#I was thinking of how he likes the Duchess Approves so much when I decided on his probable favorite | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mercurydancer · 2 years ago

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An Unexpected Chance Pt 21

Snapshots of the Creation of a New Sith, the creation of Balance, and a reminder of a time that was.

Maul stood there for a moment, taking in the body at his feet.

Pre Vizsla had put up a hell of a fight.

He ran his fingers over the line that crossed his nose and ran between his eyes and gave a soft hum. He’d definitely remember this one. Maul turned then and focused his attention on the others and blinked.

Jango had tackled someone, and it looked like a few of the Vode had brought others to their knees. Maul walked towards them, the Dark Saber still thrumming in his hand. Maul felt the power, felt the energy, and knew that he would be examining it later, but for now he kept it ignited with his Teacher’s saber, Purple and Black, and walked towards the one that Jango was pinning.

And found Bo-Katan.

Maul blinked.

He blinked again.

“I knew that you were not precisely your sister’s biggest fan…but I had not thought you would join a cult that was interested in destroying her,” Maul said idly. Jango blinked at him, and then looked at the one he was pinning down properly, shifting his grip so he could see her face when she looked up, defiance burning in her gaze.

“Well…” Jango said softly. “What do you know…”

Maul wiped the blood from his forehead idly, looking around. There were more from Pre Vizsla’s group that had decided to join than he had anticipated. They stared at his armor, and they looked to Jango, looked to the Vode in their own armor, their own symbols, looked to the members of Death Watch they may or may not remember… They knew he was one of them. But they did not know who. Maul looked them over, and then turned to the Vode and the Mandalorians that had sent the ones that had rebelled into the dirt.

How interesting. They all seemed to be marked for Bo-Katan. Maul hummed quietly and slowly crouched next to her, looking to Jango.

“Thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure,” Jango grinned, teeth bared in something like threat. Maul approved.

“Do you think you can hold her for just a little longer?”

Jango dug his elbow down as though to prove how much he had her, Bo grunting, sending a look to him that was poisonous.

“Thank you,” Maul said and stood. He walked over to Pre Vizsla’s headless corpse and flipped open his comm, holding it up so the body was visible behind him and called Satine, his Teacher’s saber at his belt.

Her face appeared in the comm, exasperation and anger visible, only to drain into something like shock as she took in the dead body behind him, her expression falling into something like horror and fear. “Is that…” she paused, “what has happened to Pre Vizsla?”

“I killed him,” Maul said easily, and watched as that look changed to horror. “He was the leader of Death Watch,” Maul said, and that look shifted, broke, something like shock, something like disbelief, and Maul held up the Dark Saber so she could see it, “so I killed him and took Death Watch from him.” He held up the comm higher so she could see, recognized the way Death Watch had frozen the fear, the worry…

“Death Watch…” she repeated, gasping, fear in her voice and looked to Maul, “but…”

“I have no intentions of killing you,” Maul said, “nor do I have intentions of taking over Mandalore. You may rest easy in your bed, Satine. To give you a bit more certainty in my words I have a gift for you.” He walked over towards Jango and Bo, watching as she attempted to pull away, to fight, as Jango pinned her harder. Maul crouched down and showed Satine Bo, and the gasp that sounded from the Duchess was momentarily shattered.

“Bo,” she breathed.

“He’s lying!” Bo-Katan yelled, “he kidnapped me, it’s a trick, Satine, he…”

Maul looked to Jango and gestured for him to stand her up. Jango did so, revealing the armor, and Maul showed Satine the helmet that had been knocked to the ground that fit Bo, and then slowly walked to show Satine the others, show her their symbol. Bo’s symbol.

Bo said nothing. She knew that it was over.

“It…it is true then,” Satine breathed, and her voice was choked, “she was…she was moving against me…” There was a long pause, and Maul watched as she stared into his eyes, and there was something so… “She meant to kill me?”

Maul was silent for a moment. “I do not know,” he said finally. “But I am going to be returning them to you. What you do to them is of no concern to me. They did not follow the rules of sacred combat. They are no longer Death Watch, and they are no longer Mandalorian. Their Manda is tainted, and so they are of no use to me.” Bo yelled, inarticulate, angry, Jango forced her to her knees. “You can expect them shortly, I believe,” he looked to the Vode. “But we will not be on Concordia for much longer.”

“Where are you going?” Satine asked, “where…”

“None of your business,” Maul answered easily, raising a brow. “You hold no power here, Duchess. Now, Satine, that is all. Please don’t attempt to call me I shall simply hang up. Consider this a peace offering. Goodbye.”

He hung up and made a brief gesture. “Wrap it up.”

“Mand’alor!”

The call was followed by a salute, Maul saluted back.

It was the most uncomfortable thing he had ever done.

The prisoners Maul saw to himself, gesturing to the ones that had detained each of Bo’s people and working with them to bind them. Not maliciously, Maul saw no point in that, but certainly tight and with bindings that he himself would struggle with. And then he found his brothers.

Maul walked to Feral and Savage, who looked him up and down and then smiled, saluting.

“Stop,” Maul commanded.

They laughed.

“What are we doing, brother?” Savage asked.

“We are seeing what Pre Vizsla and his lot have given to us, and then we are going to fill in the gaps,” Maul hummed.

“How are we doing this?” Feral asked.

Maul smiled.

Savage watched as the members of Death Watch helped bring the last of their resources into their massive atrium, and Maul walked amongst them, looking it over. The prisoners had been brought to a ship, entrusted to a Vod called Iisa, as well as a code that would allow him to contact Maul directly. He took three of his own, a Halaisian Mandalorian called Manut, another Vod called Ridge, and a Brother named Fang, all of them easily containing the bound and disgraced Mandalorian prisoners.

It was the quickest and most efficient dispatch that Savage had ever seen, the remainder of Death Watch so willing and able to follow the one that had won the saber. Savage couldn’t complain. Tests of strength were common, but he thought that it was the sight of the loyalty Maul inspired in the rest of them that made them so willing to follow.

Maul took in their resources and his mouth thinned, before he looked to Jango. “How long do you believe this would sustain us?”

Jango hummed quietly, before shaking his head. “Not long enough.”

“Well,” Maul said, humming. “I know our first order of business.” He paused for a moment and then looked to Jango. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.”

Maul laughed and dipped his head to Jango, and then to Soln, and then to Feral and Savage himself. They followed.

Maul paced to the front of the gathered Mandalorians, Brothers and Vode, and stared out at them, Savage to his right, Feral his left, Jango and Soln behind them.

“Mandalorians, Brothers, Vode…” he said, standing before them, “I am Maul…and I am going to bring you to victory.”

The cheers had started to begin.

Savage was proud.

Feral had not expected this, staring down at a world that seemed to be made of lava, Maul before him with his arms behind his back, an air of indifference pouring off of him.

They were about to destroy and simultaneously liberate a Criminal Empire and his brother was acting as though they were about to go to the store. Feral looked to him, taking in the way he stood there, the profile, and wondered quietly about the little boy that had been. The little boy that he had loved and mourned in equal measures. Maul looked to him then, and he watched as the expression of boredom shifted to a small smile, and Feral found himself beaming.

There were moments, after all, where that boy showed he was still there, and ultimately Feral could not deny that he loved his brother, and he did trust him.

Maul dipped his head towards the lava, and softly, quietly, “That is the planet where I grew up.”

Feral froze, recognizing that he was not the only one, Savage also freezing. And then, a hand sank on his shoulder, and he turned to look to Jango, turning a bit more to see more of the same face, younger than the one that Maul knew they referred to as the ‘rough draft.’ Vode, ones he knew. Rex, Wolffe, Kote, Fox… They had been taking names more commonly now, mix of cultures, mix of styles, and Maul was proud.

But he was also letting his mind drift.

“There, sir?” Rex asked, and Maul found his nose wrinkling. Rex had been the first to find Boba, the first to actually talk to him, and the one that had grown used to talking to him. “Sorry, I meant you lived there, Mand’alor.”

Maul looked at him. Rex’s expression was unapologetic and amused. Maul rolled his eyes. But it was a kindness. His mind had stopped spiraling.

“I did,” Maul said simply. “My Master stole me from Dathomir and took me here.” He paused, his head tilting, “I don’t know that it was an improvement.”

“I think it might have been a downgrade,” Savage said softly, taking a step closer to him and Maul found himself smiling. Jango’s hand hadn’t left his shoulder. “At least on Dathomir it is not covered in lava.”

“Unless you go to the volcanos,” Feral added, “though that is far.”

Maul gave a soft sound in recognition, “Here…the lava always flows…and the air is poison.” He paused, looking to them, “buckets are preferable.”

“Understood,” came the response.

Wolffe walked up next to him, quiet, “What was it like?”

“Lonely,” Maul said softly.

“How do you mean?” Fox asked.

“I was alone with a droid…for most of my childhood,” Maul said. “I was three years old before I knew what I looked like…and that was only because of the window.” Maul was quiet for a moment before looking to the Vode and his gaze was sharp. “My Master was the one that commissioned you. I believe…that a great deal of your training was built from mine.” He was quiet for a moment, very aware of the silence, of the way the Vode were looking at him.

“Does…” the question was soft, hesitant, even as Kote finally asked, “does that make you ori’vod?”

Maul blinked.

“What?” Maul asked.

His brothers, however, were brightening, and Maul turned to look at them, something almost horrified…

“If you claim him as vod, then that makes you vod’ika,” Savage said, and his grin was all teeth.

“I’d take that,” Kote said with a grin.

“VOD’IKA!” Savage took Kote up in his arms and squeezed him, the man laughing aloud, fighting to be able to press his forehead against Savage’s horns. Maul watched with something unfolding within him that might have been pride and might have been something else.

The Brothers had been the first to truly integrate with the Vode. They understood the challenges in a way that the others could not, warriors trained for battle, unused to kindness from anyone except each other, kept underneath another group that controlled them…could kill them at a whim… Maul stood there with the slowly dawning realization that if he did accept this, if they did stand with this, it would unite their peoples in a way that was…unprecedented.

Maul could and would accept it.

He looked to Jango, who was staring back at them with something pained in his eyes, something thoughtful.

“There is no reason to believe that all is lost,” Maul rumbled quietly, his voice soft. “Not all with forgive you…but they have accepted my own acceptance of you.”

Jango took that in for a moment before quietly, “they know you’d keep me in line.” The smirk he gave was sharp and Maul rolled his eyes.

“I would kill you,” Maul returned and Jango laughed.

“So,” Wolffe said from where he was currently wrapped in Feral’s hold, his brother beaming, even as Wolffe was clearly trying to struggle out, “what’s the plan here?”

“Go in, take their resources, kill who we must, free their people that have been enslaved…” Maul said blandly, walking towards them. Feral let go of Wolffe, Savage letting go of the others. “Black Sun is arrogant, and they are susceptible to their long-standing tradition of accepting visitors. So…we shall visit.”

“Are we going to stay here?”

Maul hummed, looking at the planet that filled their viewscreen. “Once was enough,” he said. “No. We are going to take a small group at first to see them in order to keep their guard low, and then we are going to swarm. You all will accompany me, naturally?”

“Manda’lori’vod!”

Maul stared at them.

“Stop that.”

Jango lost his shit.

Rude.

In the end it was a simple matter to take over the Black Sun.

Maul had destabilized them before…he had been younger then. Younger and under his Master. Now he stood as the head of a criminal organization that they were gutting. Maul periodically shifted his gaze to Feral, who was still laughing at his brother. Teaching his brothers how to create their own Kyber had been one of his better ideas, followed by teaching them how to make a saber.

It had been a good day. Upon realizing how much Maul…how much the Holocron that Maul had left taught them it had only seemed right, and so they had learned, and Maul had dueled them. They were still unable to beat him, but they were good, and they were strong…

And Savage was very good at following cues.

Maul turned his attention to the singular being left alive, peering at the Falleen that had been appointed temporary Head after Savage had…ah…disposed of the others.

Maul did not know how long he would be left alive. He was not planning on creating an empire of criminals after all… But Black Sun imported their supplies. They had enough to keep their empire running which would be good enough, Maul rather supposed, for his own purposes.

Soln had thought so, as had the Armourer and Jango when he had fully laid the plan out for them, and it had kept his newly acquired Mandalorians busy…and rather happy. They were out there now, partnered with Vode and Brother alike, keeping them grounded with what they needed to do. Those with a Debt, those that were Enslaved to Black Sun would be freed. Those otherwise…well.

They would be dealt with.

But that brought Maul to another point, a hilt that still dangled upon his belt and he had quite forgotten in the need to keep hold of his very newly formed Death Watch, in the need to make sure that the people would be fed.

Maul walked out of the palace, gesturing towards Feral and Savage, the both of them nodding and following. For all Feral’s teasing he also was quite good at following cues, and the smile that was on his face was warm.

Maul stood with the lavas to his back and commed his Teacher.

“About time,” Mace Windu said and the smile on his face was warm…and then he realized where he was standing. Mace blinked, and then focused on Maul. “Where are you?”

“Mustafar,” Maul said, “we have taken over Black Sun.”

Mace stared at him.

Maul stared back.

“I’m coming to get that.”

“We shall be here for another few days,” Maul said idly, “we are freeing the population and taking their supplies.”

“Where?”

Maul was quiet for a moment, “in my travels…I found a planet that was once occupied by the Sith. It is no longer, and it is… Dark, but…” Maul paused. “There is a Nightbrother Settlement upon it, one that I was able to help start. They have been raising the kittens they have taken with them, and I have been able to reconnect with them… It no longer feels as it does. They are excited to accept others into their settlement, and to receive their Brothers.”

Mace took that in, and Maul watched as he smiled. “So,” he said, “do you plan to recreate the Temple?”

Maul frowned. “No,” he said finally, “the Sith Temple that was there was one of the first things that was destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” Mace asked softly.

“I told you a long time ago,” Maul said softly, “the Sith is mine to destroy just as it is to preserve. The Sith that I grew up with, the Sith that I was taught…” Maul was quiet for a moment, “I believe that I have found something different. Something that can be sustained, something that can be nurtured… I am going to attempt…something quite revolutionary.”

“If anyone can do it,” Mace said and then paused, “remember, Maul, you can always call. You are always welcome.”

“If…I was to take an Apprentice in the Sith…” Maul said softly, “do you think you would welcome them as well?”

There was a pause.

“You have an idea…”

“When you come I will tell you,” Maul said, “but I believe…that we may be able to come up with something between us.”

Mace dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I will see you soon, Padawan-mine. May Depa come?”

“Yes,” Maul said. “It will be good to see her.”

“She has missed you.”

Maul was quiet for a moment. “Teacher,” he said softly.

“Yes?”

“You were a better father than Sidious ever was.”

And with that he hung up and prepared himself to wait.

Mace stood before the Fortress that at one point had been the Fortress of the Black Sun and stared.

There were Mandalorians and Vode and Brothers everywhere and while initially a few of the newer Death Watch that Mace did not recognize had frozen, hands going to blasters at the sight of them, the Vode and the Brothers were quick to wave them down, calling their welcomes and their happiness at the sight of them. Death Watch went to their own business after that. This was good, as Mace still did not have his saber, and he did not want to leave everything to Depa.

Depa was staring around with her hands on her hips, amusement obvious in every line of her face.

“He always goes too far in trying to one-up me.”

Mace laughed aloud, a hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “let’s find him so you can tell him that.”

It turned out, though, that they didn’t have to go very far. Walking towards them from the Fortress, arms behind his back, and flanked on either side by Savage and Feral…was Maul.

He looked good, and in fact looked happy. He approached them directly, Savage, and Feral beaming, and finally stood before them.

Mace watched as Depa took the three of them in and then walked towards Maul, her gaze warm. “You need to get better at communicating, little brother,” she said, reaching out with soft hands and taking his face in her grasp, gently tilting it… Mace saw the mark there, the line from his nose leading up between his brows. “And you need to get better at dodging,” she said, running a finger up it, Maul snorting imperiously, rolling his eyes.

“In my defense he was directly underneath me and almost sent the blade through my chin. I believe I actually managed quite well.”

“Then I am glad,” Depa said, and then grinned, “what did you tell Mace, he was crying for five minutes after you hung up.”

Mace gave a brief wounded sound even as Maul laughed aloud, and the smile on his face when he looked to Mace was warm and so happy. “Betrayed by my own lineage,” Mace said, shaking his head. “Maul leaves me to join the Sith, and you betray my confidence.”

Depa hummed at him, raising her brows at him, and Maul laughed harder, Savage, and Feral both joining at that.

Mace huffed his own quiet laugh and walked forward, Maul taking the saber that Mace had been missing and holding it out. Mace took it from him and holstered it, giving Maul a brief bow.

“Congratulations Mand’alor.”

“Not you, too,” Maul said immediately, and the laughter this time came from more parties than just the three in front of them. Mace found himself smiling as he realized that the Vode the Brothers and Mandalorians that were around him were clearly listening. “Get back to work,” Maul snapped.

“AYE, MAND’ALOR!”

Maul closed his eyes, his head tilting back and Mace could not help the laugh that spilled from him.

“You always did try too hard to one-up me,” Depa said softly, smiling wide, “serves you right.”

Savage and Feral laughed aloud, and there was a relaxing and a warmth that Mace could read within them that had not been there. They were clearly growing used to Depa, and Mace was glad.

Mace was glad…

“Walk with me,” Maul said, “we shall not be here long, but I wish to show you what I have found.”

Mace followed, listening to Maul as he explained, watching the way he paused to interact with some of the Mandalorians, the pause to help with Brothers, or with Vode, watching the way that they followed him with their gazes, the calls that periodically came… Mace was proud. He slowly breathed it out, but it buzzed in the air around him, and he knew that Depa felt it, too.

“So,” Depa said quietly after they had walked their way around the Fortress, after having met some of the ones that had been freed, watching the way they thanked their rescuers… “I heard that you might be giving me a niece or nephew soon,” she said, leaning against the railing, smiling at Maul, who shifted. “Do you have someone in mind?”

Maul hesitated.

“Not exactly,” he finally said, also leaning against the railing, Savage and Feral buzzing beside them, excitement burning. “But I have been having…visions.”

“Visions,” Mace repeated softly, finding his mouth quirking in a smile, momentarily taking the moment to inspect the shatterpoints that had surrounded his boy since he had been a teen in desperate need of help, “better than the last ones I would hope?”

“Oh yes,” Maul agreed softly, “much.”

Feral stood at the edge of a precipice, a grin on his face even as he strained, feeling the pull and push of his Brothers all around, watching the Vode and Death Watch as they worked to help set the last piece upon a Temple that they had worked together to form. A Temple that was to be the beginning foundation of the Sith, a Sith that his brother had formed, a Sith that his brother was even now teaching.

Feral’s attention turned to his brother who was amongst them, working together to lower the cap of the pyramid structure, a tradition that Maul had admitted to liking aesthetically, but so much else was different, even in comparison to the Jedi Temple.

Maul had worked to allow it to be accessible to all, Force Sensitive and not, self-sustained and full of the sweeping and sharp angles of most Sith Temples, but none of the traps.

At least…none of the more lethal ones.

As the cap was finally lowered to the Temple, there was a spark a flash, and then a feeling of Flame, a feeling of Power in the same way as Maul.

There was a Shrine deep within, Maul had built it with his own two hands, taking time and much will to do so, and it seemed that now that the Temple was complete the Shrine was waking up.

Feral felt nearly giddy with it, a rushing in his spine, turning to look to his brother who looked to be in shock.

Feral laughed aloud, grabbing hold of his shoulders and squeezing, shaking him briefly, gaining his brother’s full attention.

“That is it!” he called out, “we have done it!”

And the celebration began…

And lasted for several days.

Jocasta’s brows shot up at the sight of twelve armored men walking into her Archive, all of them with…

Very…familiar…

Horns.

And then one of those men branched off, horns taller, prouder, almost like they were… And then the helm split in half and Maul reached up to take the helmet off, and he smiled at her when he saw her, dipping into a formal bow.

“Hello, Jocasta,” he said, “I am here to steal the Sith Artifacts back.”

“Like hell you are,” Jocasta responded, and when Maul blinked at her, Jocasta smiled, “you are taking them with permission.”

Maul smiled back, a softening that had been rare, but had come easier, particularly after the past year. Jocasta had seen the small Nightbrother. He had often come into her Archive and Jocasta had been given the rare and beautiful opportunity to read a children’s book to a young one that had never been given the privilege.

Jocasta still had the holos from that day, Maul sitting upon her lap, expression pulled into the most confused and bewildered frown that she had ever seen. He had warmed to the books, and had come periodically just to sit and read and to listen.

And now she was staring at the grown man that had been, the grown man that had found himself possessing a handful of centimeters more than he had, enough to look down on her. It was an unusual thing, but Jocasta was proud.

And she was more than happy to relinquish the Sith Artifacts back to the one they belonged to.

Jocasta opened her arms and Maul allowed himself to be folded close, holding her tightly, before Jocasta pulled back, wiping at her eyes.

“I am proud of you,” she said, “I cannot wait to see what you and yours will create.”

Maul beamed at her, and she led them deeper into the Archives.

The men that were eventually revealed to her were Brothers, as well as his own brothers, which Jocasta thought was probably just as well. The artifacts were Dark, and Maul went to each one, carefully feeling them out before he gestured for a person to carry them. It was specific, Jocasta realized, and when he finally had handed them all out Maul took his own, bowed to Jocasta, and then led the men out.

Jocasta had never been happier to see artifacts taken from her archive. She had never been happier to relinquish them.

She would have a good long discussion with him later on whether or not it was to keep and study or destroy. Maul was building something new. Where the old Sith Order sat was something she supposed would eventually be learned.

Maul paused, turning his attention to two Guards that had been hovering on the edges of his vision, finding a slow smile spreading on his face.

“Gentlemen, I will meet you at the ship,” he said softly, turning to them.

“Brother,” the acknowledgement was warm and full, and followed by a brief dip of their horned helms, and then they were leaving. Savage and Feral waited as was their custom, but they left after Maul locked horns with them both.

Maul stood there for a moment staring at the Guards that he recognized, whose feel burned through him. Maul approached quietly, following them as they shifted into a side hallway where prying eyes could not see them, and finally removed their masks.

Alema and Liana stared back at them, their faces creased with smiles, and Maul found himself stepping towards them without thought. They each reached out, carefully cupping either side of his head, the Sith Icons that Maul was currently holding dividing them.

“I’m sorry,” Maul breathed, “they’re volatile.”

They laughed at him, wrinkles forming, and Maul found his mouth pulling into a grin.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Alema hummed, her lips creasing into a wide smile.

“Can’t be anyone we know,” Liana said, waving a hand.

“Not at all,” Maul agreed softly, and they laughed, Alema leaning forward enough to press her forehead to his own, Liana doing the same on his other side.

“We’re proud of you,” Alema breathed. “You’ve grown so much. So much…”

“We’ll be hoping to see this Apprentice of yours when you find them,” Liana said, pulling back with a smile.

“How did you…?” Maul paused then, blinking, and realization flickered. “Ah, yes.”

“No one pays attention to Guards,” they chorused, and Maul could not help the laughter that spilled from him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You may have an opportunity to meet them at some point. I have…an idea.”

“I wait for the moment it will bear fruit, Lord Maul,” Liana said softly.

Maul found himself standing straighter than he ever had.

“We believe in you,” Alema said. “Remember your body is your own.”

Maul put his forehead to theirs one last time, something tight in his chest…and then he finally walked away.

And knew that he had grown.

Plo was buzzing.

He could barely imagine how Mace must feel, knowing that it was Mace’s own lineage, but…but.

Plo had been there from the beginning, and he would now meet another.

Maul had come back to the Jedi Temple…

And he had an Apprentice.

They knew that Maul had been training the Nightbrother kittens and similarly knew that they had still not been quite Sith. But this, this was different.

Maul had followed the Force to her, something new in the way of the Sith, but something that Plo thought was a good choice. In a way, Maul had almost rescued her. It was the saving of a life and the teaching of turning pain into power, and the use of that power to save others.

Two flames burned within the Jedi Temple.

Plo wondered idly how many more there would be.

He finally walked into the room that they had set up for them, finding a small crowd of people. Tiq, Anakin, Ahsoka, and the rest of the main Council, as well as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. And then of course, there was Maul and his Apprentice.

Maul had taken a chair at the far end of the room, and seated upon his lap was a small Mikkian girl, her head leaning against his shoulder, clearly tired, but her eyes… Plo found himself smiling when Sith yellow met his, taking in the way she blinked, and the smallest of smiles stretched her face in return.

Plo walked towards them as Maul noticed him and gave him a brief signal to come closer, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. It was a protective gesture, but it was also one that she could escape from easily if she chose.

She clearly chose not to, instead closing her eyes and leaning closer into him. Maul gave her a very brief glance, but there was a slight smile on his mouth.

Plo reached them, crouching down slightly to be on an even level with them. “Hello,” he said softly. “My name is Plo Koon, what is yours?”

“Unlee,” she said, looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, and he could see the slight tension there. But that tension faded as she leaned further into Maul.

“It is good to meet you Unlee,” Plo said. He gave Maul the briefest of glances and smiled, “tell me,” he said softly, “has your Teacher told you of the time that he wound up accidentally ripping the Tapestry of Light?”

Unlee blinked, and her eyes when they focused on him were sharp and bright. “Nooo,” she said softly. “What did he do?”

Maul huffed, rolling his eyes, but sat back as Plo told the story, soon joined with several other exploits that he had been involved with throughout his Padawanship, and then beyond.

By the end of it Unlee was laughing, and the Sith yellow in her eyes was gold.

Plo looked to Maul and saw the soft pride on his face.

Perhaps there was something to this after all…

Plo could not wait to find out.

Unlee ran after Venom, the little Nightbrother laughing as he led her through a chase that went from one end of the Sith Temple to the other. Unlee laughed as she leapt after him, jumping between older Nightbrothers, and dodging Vode and Mandalorians as she did so.

Unlee had never been able to do any of this. Had never had a young one to play with, had never known…what it was like to have so many people that smiled and laughed as she ran past and did not…did not try to hurt her… To catch her…

They said…they said they did not want to hurt her…they said they loved her and Unlee was beginning to learn what that meant.

Teacher Maul had taken her from the arms of her captors, of the ones that had killed her family and enslaved her, and showed her that she had power. And then he showed her how she could use that power and use it to stop others. Others that would hurt her… He had spoken about the protection of others… Unlee had not understood why.

Running after Venom, hearing the sounds of Claw and Wail behind her, chasing not with the intent of hurt, but of gentleness and laughter…

Unlee was beginning to understand this as well.

So much was different.

But she knew that she had to get to her Teacher soon, he was waiting for her.

Venom led their run towards what the Vode, the Brothers and the Mandalorians called the Throne Room and Maul called ‘my prison,’ something Unlee had been greatly concerned about at first until she realized it was because Maul was actually not just the Teacher of the Sith, he was also the Mand’alor, the leader of his people.

And he didn’t like it that much.

Unlee thought that was silly, but she also found it amusing. She would listen and watch as Maul would talk with his advisors and delegate tasks so he could still teach her and the other young ones. Unlee had been afraid that the kittens would be upset that she had been chosen as an Apprentice and they had not been, but she had learned that their own religion and teachings were quite different. Maul was different, and as she grew older, as it became necessary to learn, Maul was telling her why.

Unlee was learning how sad the story was, but as Maul often reminded her, as she often saw… It was one that ended much better… And Unlee was glad.

They finally skidded into the high-ceilinged room that held the throne, finding Maul sitting with a single leg propped up on the seat, holding a datapad that he was idly thumbing through. He looked up as they entered, the slightest of grins on his face as he put his leg down and lowered the datapad.

“Brothers, Apprentice” he acknowledged softly in that low rolling voice she had learned was amazing to listen to, and even better when pressed against his chest as he held her. “I see you have made it,” he stood then, his Sith robes black, the lack of armor that meant he would not be acting as Mand’alor today. She knew that meant she would have his undivided attention and she could not wait.

He stood up then and walked towards them.

The Brothers grinned and ran up to him, Unlee reached up to him and he took her hand in his, giving her a brief squeeze. “I am afraid I am going to have to postpone our session. I have one meeting that I am unfortunately unable to change.”

“That’s alright,” Unlee said. She had learned by now that the only time Maul made her wait was when it was necessary.

“Thank you for being patient,” he said, and looked to the boys. “Are you well?”

“Yes!” they chorused, grinning. “Brother,” Claw called, looking up at him and Maul gave a soft hum, “do you know when Brother Savage will be back?”

“He will be back within the week,” Maul said. “He is working with Brother Viscous. They have much to do in Coruscant.”

“We miss him,” Venom pouted.

“I shall be sure to tell him,” Maul said, and ducked himself low, looking between them all, “if it helps you to know, I miss him as well, but he will be back soon.”

They hugged him, and Maul hugged them back, before he finally straightened.

“Tell me,” he said, “have you been working on your lessons with Feral?”

“Yes!” came the chorus, “he is wonderful! But Woya is a hard teacher!”

“She is, but she cares about you a lot,” Maul said. “You need someone that challenges you. It is good to not remain complicit, and to rethink your own biases at times…”

“That’s hard,” came the sigh and Maul grinned.

“It is. Now come, we have work to do."

Talon stood on the peak of the Temple, looking out over all that she could see and found that it was good.

It had been a shock when Maul had come for her, had given her a Saber and watched…as she had freed herself. Talon had held the blade to his own throat, but he had simply watched her, and the realization…the inability… There was no want in his stare, no desire, even when he informed her that it had been a beautiful performance, she had known it was because of the blood that was around her…the violence she had unleashed…and she had been happy.

Maul had offered her his hand and she had taken it and found herself in something she would have never believed she could have had, or would have found. A family, people that loved her, people that would fight and kill for her… And she would fight and kill for them.

He had even given her a name.

When Maul had told her about the custom of naming Apprentices in a traditional Sith fashion she had decided that she wanted one. Maul had told her that it was her prerogative to choose, that she had been gifted the ability to choose…and so Talon took that and gave it to him. Maul had blinked at her, and she had realized it was something he had no experience in. It had made her laugh and demand a name.

Darth Talon he had finally gifted her, after what she realized was long thought and meditation.

Talon loved it, and had put her old name, her old self firmly behind her where it would stay. She was a Sith now. She was a part of a growing order. She was surrounded by those who were kind.

Talon felt the Force Nexus upon this planet, felt the dark and the power upon it, felt the way it had twisted to something fierce and powerful and joyful…and knew that this was home.

It was a strange thing to realize after so long alone, after so long without a home.

“Enjoying the view?” Maul’s voice came to her, and she blinked down at him, realizing that he had brought Unlee with him, the Mikkian girl holding her arms up. Talon lifted her up without thought, laughing.

“What’s up sugar-pop,” she whispered at her, and Unlee giggled, her blue skin flushing purple with amusement. “I am,” she said, looking to Maul with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Maul just rolled his own eyes.

Talon laughed…and found that she was happy.

Maul stared at the Holocron before him, one that he had not seen in years, and in fact had quite forgotten…

The one that he as a child had carried with him, the one that he had spoken into, the one that had been just for Maul.

He had given the one meant for the Jedi but this one…

This one had been for him.

Maul thought for a moment, taking it in his hands and hefting it. Maul was alone for once. Blessedly alone…

It had taken time, but the Temple was finally populated with young Sith, and older Sith, Sith like Talon who were able to teach… Sith and young Jedi that had been brought to learn, just as he had sent Sith to learn from the Jedi.

Balance…

Maul did not know if this would work, but so far…so far it seemed to be. So far the Jedi had been helpful, had learned so much, and taught so much, and the ones within the Temple, the ones that were not Force-Sensitive had been so good at teaching care…

Maul was creating something he could be proud of…

And so, Maul looked at this Holocron, this message from himself as a child, and finally closed his eyes…

And Reached.

The sight of his own face was mildly shocking, combined with the youth in the features, the smile that spread those lips…

“Thank you!” the Holocron said, he said, the child he had been… “Thank you…so much…” he swallowed, “I know… I know that you said you love me…but I did not know…I did not know how much until I…” he spread his hands. “You gave me so much. You gave us…you gave us both so much. I had so much…I had so much fun. I had fun, and I did not even know what it was… I had people that cared about me…when I did not know what that meant, when I did not know it was good…”

That young Maul swallowed, and there were tears in his eyes.

“I know I am about to go, I know…I am about to grow up, that I am going to be you, that I am going to be whole once again… But I needed to tell you that I love you too. I love you, too, and thank you…so much…for everything. Thank you for loving yourself enough to give us this chance.” He wiped his eyes. “I hope…I hope you know…that you deserve to be loved now, too. That you as you are… I listened to you sometimes, and you made me sad. I need you to know that you are loved, and I need you to know… That you are a good teacher… And I hope…I hope with everything in me…that you are happy, and that you know that your hands are able to make good things… And I hope you know that you are loved.”

Maul watched as the Holocron turned off then, the message spoken into existence…and found his hearts were tight.

Maul stood up slowly and finally left the room, walking towards the refectory, and finding the people that he had found, the ones he had won, and the ones that had followed him…

He watched the way they acknowledged him, the warmth, the calls, the laughter, the beckoning…

And softly…

To a self that had been…

“I do.”

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phoenixyfriend · 2 years ago

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My view on Jango being Mand'alor is like... I don't think he wants to be head of state. Jaster certainly didn't. They led small political factions and wanted to influence culture, but nothing they do or say indicates having any interest in things like legislation, or taxes, or infrastructure.

I think that in their time, Mand'alor is not a position of governmental authority unless Mandalore is at war, which they aren't. The return to the Mand'alor being a totalitarian ruler is a Death Watch thing, while Jaster and Jango's take seems to lean much more heavily towards a position of cultural influence. The Resol'nare still has the Mand'alor included, but they don't do any true ruling. They are spiritually, culturally important to Mandalorian tradition, but they don't bother with actual government other than, perhaps, having to give or withhold approval of the functional head of state, which in this case is the Duke or Duchess (for which I have other headcanons but that's a different post). That part is more like... when the Pope has to crown a new monarch, rather than actually being the monarch.

The Supercommando Codex is also about changing up behaviors in a cultural group who can opt in or out of that life if they so choose, which is a lot less "Bill of Rights" and a lot more "95 Theses nailed to a church door." This muddles the Pope thing from above, but lbr when the True Mandos and Death Watch fight over who gets to be Mand'alor and decide the direction warrior culture takes, it's a bit like when there were three popes and they all excommunicated each other. That's Tor and Jaster.

Like. You know how a bunch of royal families in Europe are figureheads whose primary role is "draw in tourists and entertain the masses" at this point? It's like if you took that, mixed it with "I became Pope through trial by combat," and "I am the Commander in Chief of all our military forces (but most of them are self-managing, like the Journeyman Protectors)."

There's also a dash of King Arthur Has A Magic And Important Sword That Declares Him In Charge, there.

#Jaster Mereel #Jango Fett #star wars #mandalorian politics #sw legends #true mandalorians #the clone wars #phoenix talks

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celticcrossanon · 3 years ago

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BRF Reading - 4th of November 2021

This is speculation only

Cards drawn 3rd of November 2021

Question: Is Prince Charles jealous of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge?

Notice that William does not appear in this reading in anyway. That really surprised me. Whatever issues Charles is having with the Cambridges at this point in time, William is not part of it (although that could change in the future).

Warning of Bias: I do not like Prince Charles. I think he is a charming, twinkled eyed, entitled, self-centred person who is very spoilt, rather self-indulgent, and who has no idea about how the common folk live or the struggles we face. I have tried to be fair in the reading below, but please keep this bias in mind as you read.

Interpretation: He thinks Catherine has betrayed him.

Card One: The King of Cups. This is a water sign person, particularly a Scorpio, and in this reading it stands for Prince Charles as a person (i.e. not in his role as future king), as he is a sun sign Scorpio. So this reading is speaking about Prince Charles's feelings as a person, feelings that he may or may not display in his various royal roles as Prince of Wales.

Card Two: The Two of Pentacles. This is a card about balancing things, usually work life and home life. It is about deciding where to put your resources (time, attention, money, approval). Pentacles is the suit of money, so this can be about finances and not other resources. The only thing that comes to mind when I look at this card is that Charles has two sons and he is juggling - it could be how much money he gives to them, but the energy is also that he is juggling his two sons themselves in some way - what he gives to them in attention and approval, with money being secondary - there is an element here of 'what can they do for me?', as the Two of Pentacles can be about investing in things for a future return.

Card Three: The Ten of Cups. This is the card of happy ever after, of emotional satisfaction, of having a happy romantic life - an abundance of happiness and emotional content. However, the energy I am getting from this card is of emotional dissatisfaction. Charles wants his life to look like the Ten Of Cups - happy, fulfilled, the world's luckiest man - but it isn't like that, and if we could look beneath the surface we would find dissatisfaction, possibly a failing romantic relationship (as in one where you no longer feel connected to each other), and a family life that does not provide what Charles wants from it (whether those wants are reasonable is another question).

Card Four. The Three of Swords. This is a card of heartbreak, sorrow, pain. What I am getting from it is a sense of betrayal. Charles feels betrayed by someone; he feels like they have stabbed him in the heart after he welcomed them into the family. I have no details on why he feels betrayed, only that he does feel that way. This card is known as the divorce card, but I am not getting divorce energy from it - coldness, yes, but not a willingness to divorce.

Card Five: The Queen of Pentacles. This is an earth sign person, particularly a Capricorn, and in this reading it stands for Catherine, who is a sun sign Capricorn. Coming after the Three of Swords, this tells me that Charles is blaming Catherine for the pain/betrayal he feels, rightly or wrongly. I don't know whether this is because Catherine has refused to play 'Happy Families' with him in some way, or whether Charles is having problems with Camilla and he blames Catherine for it, but whatever is wrong, Charles is definitely holding Catherine responsible. My intuition says that Charles is blaming her because it is easier than looking at how he is at fault in the situation.

Underlying Energy: The Emperor. This is the ultimate paternal figure and the card for a male ruler. In this reading, it is coming across as Charles in his future role as king, i.e. he is concerned about how he will be seen when he is king, and as Charles in his role as head of the family. In the latter sense it has a very stern and rigid feeling - I say jump and you say how high - what I say goes, not what you want for your family - you are not allowed to question my decisions in anyway - that sort of energy. I think Charles may be taking himself a bit too seriously in this role, and/or he may be trying to exert control as a way of feeling safe for the future (my friend did exactly the same thing whenever his wife was pregnant and he became responsible for another life - he was basically impossible until the child was born and he calmed down due to not having any energy left after dealing with a newborn - I can see that moving from Prince of Wales to future king and moving to being the oldest male in the household might be having a similar affect on Charles).

Conclusion: This reading is about Charles's feelings as a person, but the underlying energy is him as the future king, so his future promotion is affecting his personal thoughts. As a future king, he wants to project an image of Happy Families and being very emotionally content. This is not the reality. There may be problems with Camilla, he feels that Catherine has betrayed him (rightly or wrongly), and he is juggling his two sons, giving the most attention to whatever one benefits him and his public image at that point in time.

Coda: I asked for a clarifier on the Three of Swords and Queen of Pentacles situation (betrayal/pain from Catherine), and I pulled two sets of two cards:

1. The Devil and the Knight of Wands. The Knight of Wands here is Harry. The Devil is the card for Capricorn, so definitely Catherine who is being blamed; it is also my card for Meghan, and it can definitely mean envy/jealousy of another person.

2. The Knight of Pentacles and the Seven of Pentacles - The Knight of Pentacles is Prince Harry, again, and the Seven of Pentacles is my card for a divided allegiance. It can also mean watching the results of your past efforts, in this case with Harry and how he turned out.

It looks like Charles is blaming Catherine for the whole mess with the Harkles and that he is jealous/envious of her. I feel like he is thinking that if she, a commoner, didn't marry William, he could have stopped Meghan, a commoner, from marrying Harry and then this whole Harkle mess would never have happened. This is very confused thinking stemming from a desire to blame everyone else but himself for how Harry has turned out.

This bit is more intuition/energy reading than the cards: I also think/feel that Charles is both jealous and envious of Catherine's popularity, but not for himself. He wants her popularity for Camilla because he is furious that the British public have not warmed up to Camilla as he had hoped they would. He sees Catherine's popularity as a threat to him because his spouse is not as popular.

There is also an icy coldness coming from Camilla (seriously, arctic blasts would be a kind way of describing it) - I don't know what Charles did, but Camilla is not impressed - and Charles is thinking that if he could get Camilla more popularity she would forgive him? It's very confused thinking. I heard the words "a Queen, not a Princess" so maybe this is about the Princess Consort title for Camilla when he becomes King?

Whatever Charles is thinking, I do feel that he is very far from the mark - Camilla is not upset over the Princess Consort title any more than she was when it was first proposed - this is something else that Charles has done. Very unclear and confused energy around this.

I'd like to revisit this question at some time in the future and see if I can get a clearer picture of what is going on.

Edited to change the date from October to November. Oops. :)

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crossroadsdimension · 7 years ago

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Heh heh heh.

Last chapter of nearly-pure fluff.

I mean...come on, guys, it’s Gravity Falls. It attracts angst. Did you really think I was gonna leave our friends in peace? :3

Chapter under the cut for those too lazy to click the link!

Chapter 9 -- Get to know the neighbors

The day after Grenda broke down the door and Wendy fixed it, the entire Mystery Crew was standing on the porch of the shack in the woods with Stan, Dipper, and Mabel standing between them and the entrance. The sun had set an hour ago, leaving only what little moonlight they had and the lights from inside the shack to illuminate the clearing.

“All right.” Stan eyed the group of young adults in front of him. “Now, I know you guys have tried stepping in here before without permission, but tonight’s different, ‘cause ya have it. We’re gonna lay down a few ground rules first: the two nerds I share the house with aren’t used ta having so many people over at a time, so keep it down, got it? Advanced hearin’ an’ all that.” He motioned to his own ears before folding his arms across his chest. “Second: don’ get too personal with any questions ya ask; even I don’t know the full story about how they ended up like they did, an’ I don’t intend ta figure it out.”

“Like how we can’t ask you how you became a werewolf,” Lee guessed.

“Yeah, that. I’m glad ya remembered without me poundin’ another lesson inta yer skinny hide.” Stan grinned as Lee nodded quickly.

“But we can ask questions.” Tambry raised an eyebrow.

“Eh.” Stan made a “so-so” motion. “Ford figured that since he was gettin’ you guys ta do things, it’d only be fair. Just don’t get too pokey and you’ll be fine.” He stepped aside and pushed the door open – it didn’t creak like it had been the times Dipper and Mabel had been there; Wendy had done excellent work repairing it. “Come on.”

The Mystery Crew stepped through the doorway – Wendy first, since she had come through the doorway yesterday morning. Pacifica, Grenda, and Candy followed, and then the rest of the group, with Dipper, Mabel, and Stan bringing up the rear.

Ford was standing near the bookcase, his nose in a red book with a six-fingered hand on the cover. His ears twitched as everyone filed in, and he looked up to find a group of young men and women staring at him with wide eyes. He blinked, then smiled and put the book back in place before calling over his shoulder, “Fiddleford! We have guests!”

“Give me a minute!” called back a voice with a Southern twang. “I’m tryin’ ta seal yer little drug problem so we won’t have ta deal with the stench every time I wanna study it!”

“Drug problem?” Wendy repeated.

Mabel snickered and Stan smirked as Ford gained an annoyed expression.

“We found a flower that makes Grunkle Ford relax,” Mabel explained.

“G-grunkle?” Thompson yelped. “Y-you’re saying that—“

“I am Dipper and Mabel’s great-uncle and Stanley’s brother, yes.” Ford raised an eyebrow. “Considering that you live in Gravity Falls, is that truly that absurd of an idea?”

Fiddleford came into the room, and the Mystery Crew scrambled back as soon as they caught sight of the skinny vampire’s red eyes. “I dunno; they haven’t met that Gremloblin, an’ I honestly hope they never will.”

“Mm. Good point.” Ford tapped his chin thoughtfully. “That would make a bit of a difference in how they’re going to wrap their heads around all this.” He shrugged. “I’m sure it won’t take long.”

“I knew real vampires didn’t sparkle,” Tambry muttered. She pulled a tablet out of the satchel at her side and started writing with a stylus.

Fiddleford blinked. “Pardon?”

“It’s from a book series that came out a few years back.” Tambry didn’t even bother looking up as she kept writing. “I liked Dracula much better.”

“Ah.” Fiddleford straightened himself up a little, smiling a little.

Ford snorted. “Have you gotten more vain in your old age?”

“Oh, hush. Nothin’ wrong with helpin’ a curious mind every once in a while.” Fiddleford looked over at the group. “Fiddleford McGucket, engineer. My friend here’s Ford Pines, Stan’s older brother.”

“Older brother?” Nate repeated. “But he looks—“

“I was turned almost forty years ago and I haven’t aged a day since,” Ford said flatly. “But yes, I am older than Stanley.”

“Oh.” Nate backed down a little. “S-sorry, I didn’t—“

“It’s a bit of a touchy subject,” Stan said simply. “So let’s not get too far into it.”

“You said that you researched Gravity Falls before you got turned into this,” Pacifica spoke up suddenly. “So do you know what’s with all the handprints that have been popping up all over the place? The glowing ones?”

Ford blinked at the question, surprised at the change in subject. “The – oh! Oh, yes. I’m actually the cause of those.”

“You are?” Wendy blinked in surprise. “How? Is it some kind of ghoul thing you can do or…?”

“No, no, not a ghoul-specific thing.” Ford paused, considering. “Well, I don’t think so, at any rate. I mostly use it to keep track of the different locations around Gravity Falls and how dangerous they would be to mortal or undead beings.”

“That explains the handprint down in the mine near the dinosaurs in tree sap!” Dipper looked at the others. “Grunkle Ford, you were down there?”

“At one point.” Ford nodded. “The…pterodactyl incident was more than enough for me to go down there and investigate myself. Thankfully none of them were loose or looking for some undead meat, so I considered the danger minimal for the moment.”

“Gideon was down there when we went down there.” Mabel frowned. “He was talking about making a dino park maybe.”

“Honestly, how dumb is that guy to try and break out a raptor?” Wendy shook her head.

Ford stared at them, then looked over at Stan. “How has this child managed to win the hearts of the people of Gravity Falls?”

“By havin’ a silver tongue.” Stan shrugged. “Basically.”

Fiddleford growled. “That boy. I seen him snoopin’ around in places he really shouldn’ be. I swear, the next time I see that boy I’ll be quite tempted to drain him dry. He’s lucky his appearance and scent make him so unappealin’.”

“How do you think I feel?” Stan replied. “I have to deal with him every day; my nose is practically stuffed twenty-four seven because of him.”

Fiddleford winced apologetically at that.

“I knew there was something off about that brat,” Robbie muttered. “I’ve caught him snooping around in the cemetery a couple times, checking the graves to see if any of the zombies have been getting up lately. After we blasted their brains out six years ago, though, I really doubt that any of them are gonna be getting up anytime soon.”

“Not to mention, he’s been trying to get on Mabel’s good side ever since she got here,” Lee added.

“He what?!” Ford’s teeth were suddenly bared in a snarl, causing the humans to take a slight step back from him on instinct.

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford, I’ve got it handled,” Mabel said quickly. “Gideon’s just another guy who doesn’t know how to take a hint. So long as I’m with my friends when he’s around, he’ll leave me alone. And even if they’re not…” She grinned and reached into a hidden pocket sewn into her sweater, pulling out a pair of sparkle-covered brass knuckles. “Let’s just say that boxing runs in the family.”

Stan burst out laughing. “Atta girl! You should show me some of your moves sometime!”

“Only if you show me yours!” Mabel grinned at her grunkle.

Stan snickered darkly. “You got it, kiddo. Finally, someone else around here who can handle punching things just as well as me!”

“Stanley, we both took boxing lessons when we were kids,” Ford pointed out.

“Yeah, well, your nerd stuff kinda got in the way of keeping up with me, didn’t it?” Stan poked his brother’s stomach and snickered. “You don’t have all the upper body strength I got. Yours is all in the legs.”

“So what if it is? I can still throw a punch, Stanley.” Ford sounded slightly annoyed, but the amused look on his face clearly said he was something else entirely.

“Yeah, but you don’t got as much oomph behind it as I do.” Stan grinned.

“Like I need that when most run from me as soon as they find out that I’m a ghoul.” Ford rolled his eyes at his brother.

“I guess that makes it pretty hard to keep up your studies, huh?” Lee grinned a bit.

“A little, yes. At least it means that the gnomes avoid the house like the plague – after their queen died they blamed us and decided they didn’t want to get suckered.” Ford grinned, showing his fangs. “We’re not the ones who took their queen and ate her, though; the amount of sugar in her blood would have probably done us in.”

“Sugar?” Mabel repeated, interested.

“According to him, gnome queens are so sweet and kind they basically taste like candy,” Stan explained, jabbing a thumb in his brother’s direction. “Makes them more hunted after in the forest, apparently.”

“Huh.” Dipper looked at his sister. “You know, if we were younger and smaller than we are now, I bet you could pass as a gnome queen pretty well.”

“Maybe I could!” Mabel looked thoughtful. “But I don’t think I’d want to.”

“Wise choice,” Ford said dryly. “Considering that gnome kingdoms are essentially magical bee hives.”

The picture that sent through everyone’s heads caused the younger generation to shudder collectively.

“I think I’ll be keeping an eye out for any gnomes that might want my sister,” Dipper said.

“Good choice,” Stan said. “You know a few moves, kiddo?”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Dipper grinned back at his grunkle.

“Good. Can’t have you getting caught from behind if you don’t know how to defend yourself.”

“Especially if Gideon tries anything,” Fiddleford added.

“If Gideon tries to do something, he’s gonna be met with us first,” Wendy spoke up with grim determination.

“I doubt he has access to what we do,” Tambry agreed. She paused, considering. “Speaking of which, do either of you two know something about the Gobblewonker robot that we left in the waterfall cave near the lake?”

Ford blinked blankly. “The wha – Oh!” He looked over at Fiddleford with an amused expression. “Didn’t you say something a few years ago about drawing something out with something that looked like a possible mate?”

Fiddleford’s pale visage started to turn red, and he looked away with a huff. “I don’ recall what you’re talkin’ about.”

Ford only looked increasingly amused while the others only became increasingly confused.

“You mean there’s a real Gobblewonker in the lake?” Candy spoke up, eyes wide. “I thought it was only local myth!”

“YEAH!” Grenda agreed. “Now I wanna go and find it!”

“You’re not going to, I’m afraid.” Ford shrugged. “The creature is even more elusive than our floating island head, and I doubt that it’s been seen by human eyes. The only reason the machine looks like it does is because we took the local myths as we heard them and built our interpretation of that. Well, I did – Fiddleford actually built the design and took it from there.”

“Whoa….”

Fiddleford preened at the resulting sound of awe from the guests. Ford looked more amused at their reactions.

“Can you teach me?”

“Hmm?” Fiddleford looked over at Tambry. “What?”

“Teach me,” the young woman repeated. “Most people nowadays can’t just throw together a robot like that – I’ve been scrapping parts from it for years and I still haven’t figured out how it worked.”

“Teach me too!” Candy spoke up. “Technology and robots are fun!”

“And we’re going to need to have something to back us up if we run into anything out in the woods,” Tambry added.

Fiddleford looked surprised at the two girls and their request.

Ford sidled up next to him and nudged him with an elbow. “I’d do it. You have a couple bright, willing minds right here.”

“Shush and let me think.”

Ford nodded and moved away from Fiddleford as the vampire tapped his chin in thought. Tambry and Candy did not take their gazes off him; if anything, they became more insistent.

Stan raised an eyebrow at Ford, who gave a half-smile and shook his head.

Fiddleford looked between the two girls and broke out into a grin. “Well, if you two think you can keep up with me, then I’ll take you on as my apprentices.”

“YES!” Candy jumped up into the air, one fist held high.

“But!” Fiddleford held up a finger. “You cannot tell anyone about what yer learnin’ an’ who yer learnin’ it from. I’d rather not find some poor fellow on my doorstep anytime soon tryin’ ta get me to teach him too.”

“Consider our lips sealed,” Tambry said with a grin. She and Candy both mimed sealing their lips and throwing away the key, earning a chuckle from Wendy.

“Good. Now, before we get started, I want to know what you two are capable of. Bring me some invention of yers tomorrow night – improved off someone else’s design or not, doesn’t matter to me – and we’ll see how things go from there.” Fiddleford smiled and winked. “If you can keep up with me, then yer gonna be walkin’ away knowin’ the ins and outs of animatronics that most folks might only be able to dream of.”

Candy gasped. “I can finally make an anime mecha!”

Fiddleford blinked in confusion, his smile dropping a little. “Anime?”

Mabel’s eyes widened sharply as Stan gained a knowing look and looked away from Fiddleford as he tried to hide his snickers. “Ohmygosh you don’t know about anime?”

“We’ve been living in a cabin in the middle of the woods for the last thirty-odd years, Mabel,” Ford said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you really expect us to know everything that’s gone on outside of these woods?”

“Here we go,” Dipper muttered. The grin on his face made his tone seem less like he didn’t like what was coming.

Mabel, Candy, and Soos squealed in unison, causing Ford’s ears to flick at the sound.

“Grunkle Ford, you have been missing out on a lot,” Mabel declared. “Next time we get the chance, we have to have a marathon.”

“Yes!” Candy nodded her head quickly. “Soos has a great collection of anime! We can borrow from there!”

“Indeed you can, my doods!” Soos laughed. “I’ve got all the great ones!”

Ford and Fiddleford exchanged uneasy looks. Stan laughed at their expressions.

“It’s okay, Poindexter; it’s just nerdy stuff in cartoon form, that’s all.” Stan grinned widely. “I’m pretty sure you’re gonna fit right in with that.”

Ford frowned at that. “Stanley—“

“We got Mr. Mystery into it a few years back,” Soos said, grinning. “There are fighting ones, sports, everyday life, ones where you go out in space, robots, guns, swords, gun swords – and Mr. Mystery likes the—“

“Hey, now, don’t tell him that!” Stan slapped a hand over Soos’ mouth.

“…well, if my brother can find something he likes, I don’t see why we can’t give it a try,” Ford said carefully. He looked over at Fiddleford, tilting his head slightly.

“…well, maybe some entertainment every once in a while is a good thing,” Fiddleford acknowledged. There was a spark in his eyes as well – clearly he had something on his mind. “An’ if there’s robots in there, I wouldn’t mind giving them a gander!”

Ford and Stan exchanged knowing, but slightly nervous looks at that while Mabel, Candy, and Soos cheered and high-fived each other.

“Then it’s settled!” Soos said cheerily. “Next time we come over, we’re bringing my collection and getting you guys started!”

“What about tomorrow?” Ford asked.

“Yes, definitely tomorrow,” Fiddleford agreed. “I’d like to see those robots as soon as possible!”

“You got it!” Soos replied. “Mecha anime it is!”

Stan shook his head and chuckled as the others started chiming in with titles. He looked over at Dipper and Mabel and grinned; the two of them shot back similar expressions.

“Looks like this summer just got a lot more fun!” Mabel said with a grin.

“Sure looks like it,” Dipper agreed. “I hope it’s not gonna be just watching anime for the rest of the summer, though.”

Stan snorted. “Oh, I don’t think so. My brother may be a total nerd, but he’s gonna need breaks every once in a while from that stuff. You’ll get ta poke around in his head later.”

“Good.” Dipper grinned. “Because I still have a ton of questions about Gravity Falls.”

Space Break

“Y-you’re finally moving now? But you said you wanted to do this years ago! Why did you make us wait for so long to get those parts?!” The anger in the man’s voice was evident, but so was a hint of fear.

“BECAUSE NOT ALL THE PIECES WERE IN PLAY YET, DOOFUS!” A hand came quite close to hitting the other’s face; the man quickly cowered and pulled back, which was the only thing that saved him from getting his face completely blown off. “I JUST HAD ONE MINOR SETBACK FROM MY ORIGINAL PLAN. GET THAT MINION OF OURS MOVING; IT’S TIME FOR PLAN B.”

“Y-yes – of course!”

#cross' fanfiction #ghoulish falls #pines family #mystery crew #fidds #ghoul!ford #vampire!fiddleford #werewolf!stan #and hints at other characters at the end of the chapter #because OF COURSE #how am I going to generate angst without other characters doing things?#:3 #Nana was cackling at the anime bit #what do you guys think is Stan's favorite kind of anime?#I'll give you a hint:#I was thinking of how he likes the Duchess Approves so much when I decided on his probable favorite

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dwellordream · 2 years ago

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“Household work frequently extended to more direct roles than oversight of domestic servants. Of course the degree of labor women performed varied according to their circumstances, status, and individual inclination, but it was rare even for aristocratic women to remain strictly decorative. Women’s responsibility to run their estates during their husbands’ absences was widely accepted. Many also took an active role in managing their estates when their husbands were home, and of course widows and other single women had no choice but to do so.

Moreover, even overseeing others’ labor could carry with it time-consuming and serious responsibilities, as we have already seen to some extent in the discussion of servants. Not even the best servants could always be relied upon, thanks to the routine mishaps of everyday life. …No matter how much a woman might want to live a life of pure leisure, it was rarely possible. …A vivid picture of one woman’s role emerges in the correspondence of Frances Boscawen, who filled her letters to her absent husband with references to her engagement in household affairs.

She took pleasure as well as pride in her activities, and this involvement helped her to shape their relationship and respective roles. In 1747, for example, she wrote to him that she knew nothing of public news – such matters were outside her realm. “My knowledge extends no further than my own household,” she insisted. But she immediately continued, “Within this the article of stable is properly comprehended,” and went on to discuss the coachman’s suggestion that they sell a horse, with no apparent sense of conflict over entering a masculine domain.

Her descriptions of her life at Hatchlands, their estate, provide snapshots of her quotidian activities. Apologizing in 1756 for not writing at greater length, she discussed “a world of little affairs” that had taken up her time. These included overseeing the orchard, negotiating with tenants over their rights, meeting with the steward and gardener, organizing work for her maids, distributing salaries, and paying taxes. She also oversaw the building of their new house and drew up a plan to regulate the builders’ activities while she was away.

Mrs. Boscawen obviously expected her husband to approve of all these activities; she also clearly assumed that they fell within the normal range of her authority. She was pleased to announce on another occasion that she had gotten all the hay in just before the rains. In addition, she overruled the recommendation of her estate manager in deciding to have the pasture rolled, and she oversaw the sowing of what she called “my turnips.” Although she joked about her participation in activities more suitable to a “goody farmer” than a “hero’s wife,” she was willing to trust her own judgment over that of her manager.

Not only do such events demonstrate her apparently well-founded confidence in her own abilities, but they also show that having an estate manager did not mean that women necessarily withdrew into idleness. Although in theory the manager might answer directly to the husband, in practice this was not always the case. Other women of quality were equally engaged in the details of farm management and production, though not all of them enjoyed it.

In 1742 Henrietta Knight wrote to a friend that moving to Warwickshire (after separating from her husband) had transformed her life; instead of reading and thinking about fashions, she said, “The thing in life I am least accustomed to, the thing I most detested, has filled a great part of my time. Imagine me letting leases, receiving rents, paying parish dues, and anxious lest a shower of rain should spoil my hay.”

The Duchess of Marlborough, who kept careful track of her estate expenses, was irate when she found out how much her improvident grandson paid for his haying. “I am labouring like a packhorse every day to save him from the cheats,” she wrote, complaining that he never took her good advice.134 Lady Strafford assured her husband in 1724 that all the hay had been brought in, and she had been careful not to leave the house until it was done, “that the men might stick to it.”

For others, farming represented less hard work than pleasure, often shading into what appear to be more recreational activities. The Duchess of Kent wrote to her brother that a 1731 visit to Tunbridge Wells had not decreased her pleasure in the country, since she enjoyed caring for her garden and monitoring the fecundity of her guinea hens. Lady Annabella Howard similarly insisted to a friend that her life in the country secluded her from any interesting news: “I can tell you nothing but when my henns lay and when my butter is come.”

Such comments reveal that many elite women presented these activities as both worthy in themselves and as a contrast to the fashionable leisure of the beau monde. Like Mrs. Boscawen’s self-description as a “goody farmer,” the rejection of fashionable life in favor of industrious domesticity itself became a fashionable cliché during the early eighteenth century. Thus Catherine Talbot insisted that by rejecting modish idleness a young woman could be really happy – unlike “those poor idle Girls who for want of knowing how to amuse themselves at home are forced to fancy themselves happy in the continual & wearisome repetition of the same insipid Diversions Day after day.”

…Estate management was not the only work in which aristocratic women engaged. Many performed hands-on labor, although they had strong ideas about what type of work was appropriate to their rank. Such labor enabled them to emphasize their virtuous industry, while the kinds of work they did reinforced their notions about the connection between labor and status. For women in more old-fashioned families like the Harleys, this could include tasks such as potting eels and making medicines. Catherine Talbot included among her “Employment” letter-writing, reading, and painting.

Lady Hertford also performed physical work around her house; her letters contain references to infusing myrtle leaves for scented water, making a cream cheese, and fixing dessert for her guests (her maid being unable to offer “the smallest assistance to me in this article”). “Like Martha I am busied about many things,” she wrote, comparing herself to the biblical paragon of domestic work.

Frances Boscawen described organizing the contents of her closet and drawers; she and her daughters also daily fed their poultry, and she oversaw their sewing. Needlework was, of course, a common pastime of aristocratic women, combining decorative femininity with practical results. One of Lady Cassandra Willoughby’s primary duties at her brother’s estate was to maintain and repair the furnishings and fabrics of his house.

Writing to her son about Lady Strafford’s imminent appearance at a royal birthday, Lady Wentworth mentioned that her sleeves were covered “with dyomon Buttens & Loops,” and that Betty Wentworth and Lady Strafford had “made up the Loops & soad them al one them selvs.” Lady Strafford herself added, “indeed I have been very much oblidg’d to Sister Betty for she has not been out this three day’s but has worked for me all day very hard.”

In this case Betty’s hard work might in part have been attributable to her status as an unmarried dependant in the household, but even Lady Strafford worked on her gown. It is important to remember that although all this work fell into the category of genteel domestic activities, light labor with primarily decorative results, women still wrote about it as work. But there was always a tension between the notion of this light labor as work and the idea that women of quality need not labor at all.

It is difficult, therefore, to interpret the trend among some aristocratic women to engage in heavier rural labor such as dairying, which became a fashionable pastime in the eighteenth century. This fashion was undoubtedly made possible by the awareness of those who participated in it that they did not need to do so for economic survival, and it is unlikely that they performed the really heavy tasks. But it is nonetheless important to remain aware of the powerful ideological force behind feminine domestic industry.

Dairying among fashionable ladies could thus serve the dual purpose of confirming their elite status while also creating an image of virtuous domesticity. The glorification of such domesticity can be seen as well in other eighteenth-century trends, such as the fashion for the straw hats traditionally worn by milkmaids. These were fashions that reflected the ideological appeal of images of the countryside, images that emphasized country domesticity, virtue, and innocence.

Nonetheless, these were above all fashions and served to confirm their participants’ leisured status even as they associated these women with rural virtue. Behind such fashions lay a strong sense of the types of work that were appropriate for elite women; dairying was attractive because of its associations with rural innocence and purity, but only when it was not a woman’s main source of income. Individual circumstances were thus important in defining appropriate work.”

- Ingrid H. Tague, “Household Management.” in Women of Quality: Accepting and Contesting Ideals of Femininity in England, 1690-1760

#women of quality #class #gender #history #georgian #english #ingrid h. tague

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 years ago

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We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 2: The Middle Of Nowhere]

You are a Russian Grand Duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You hate each other.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution (1917-1923) and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Lots of shouting, if you never learned about the Russian Revolution then here's your mini crash course, references to historical stuff like violence and disease, Kroshka the mule emerges as the only emotionally stable character.

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @deacyblues @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore

I wake up feeling harder, as if sleeping on the ground with all its stones and cool indifference has taught my spine to straighten, to endure. This is a welcome revelation. I will need to be resilient, for my family and for myself. I also wake determined to set things right with my rescuer. I am a perfectly charming person, Mother and Papa have always said so; I’m not painfully shy like Olga, or aloof like Tati, or rather dull like Maria, and I certainly don’t run around putting frogs in people’s shoes like Anastasia. I make for excellent company. Surely Ben will realize this and we will become inseparable travel companions.

Outside in the overcast brisk morning air, Ben is already busy tacking the mule. He glances over and tosses me an apple. It bounces out of my floundering hands and rolls off into the woods. This is not an auspicious start to the day.

“You’ll still have to eat that,” Ben says. “There’s no extra food. I was only able to ask for as much as I could justify needing myself.”

“Right.” I go fetch the apple—rummaging around in leaves and sticks and shrubs—and take a bite, even though it’s bruised and definitely tastes like dirt. I beam at Ben triumphantly. I am tough! I am daring! I am enchanting! I can pull my own weight on this journey!

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. He pats the mule’s thick brown neck and smiles fondly at her. “How are we feeling this morning, Kroshka? Hmm? Who’s a lovely mule? Who’s going to take us all the way to the Trans-Siberian Railroad without even one measly word of complaint? That’s right, you are! Yes you are!” He lands a smacking kiss on the velvety grey fur of her muzzle.

I attempt polite conversation; more than that, I endeavor to learn about my dashing yet evasive rescuer. “So, tell me Ben, have you worked for Sir Buchanan long?”

“Four years,” Ben replies curtly.

“And you are…” I think of his notebook. “A…writer of some sort for him…?”

“I’m his press attaché.”

“Ah.” I recognize the French word for ‘attach,’ but not its meaning in the context of employment with an ambassador. “I can’t say I know what that entails.”

“I handle Sir Buchanan’s relations with the Russian newspapers. Drafting statements and briefing him on local opinions and the like. And since his health has declined, I find myself delivering some of his particularly confidential correspondence.”

“Oh, I see. And he could spare you for this mission? It seems like a burden that would be better carried by a man with military or exploratory experience.”

“My Russian is passable. And I can tolerate rougher conditions than most.” He points to a pile of clothes he’s laid out on a tree stump. “Those are for you. There’s a stream out that way.” He flicks a thumb towards the east. “Get ready however you need to, but be prepared to leave in fifteen minutes.”

I examine the clothing: plain and practical undergarments, a heavy wool sweater, stockings, boots, and something unexpected. I hold them up with clammy hands. “These are…” I swallow noisily. “Trousers.”

“Yes. They’re travel attire. Comfortable and easy to maneuver in if we need to move quickly.”

“I’ve never worn trousers before.”

“I thought you were amenable to a…a…what did you call it? An adventure. A grand adventure.” He says this melodramatically, like there’s some humor in it. Like he’s mocking me.

“I suppose I am,” I mutter, still scrutinizing the trousers.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ben reminds me sternly. Then he begins to disassemble the tent.

I trudge off through the woods until I find the stream. I clean myself with ice-cold water, drink it down until my teeth ache, change out of my nightgown and into these strange new clothes—Trousers! Mother would lock me in church for a month!—and gaze up into the cloudy, pastel blue sky that peeks between the fingers of the trees. It is very still here, and cold, and deathly quiet. I try to remember the last time I was truly alone, without Mother or Papa or my siblings or servants or guards within shouting distance. There is none that I can remember; perhaps there is none at all. Out here in the Siberian wilderness I feel unmoored from civilization, diminutive, vulnerable, peculiarly inconsequential. I decide I don’t like being alone. By the time I return to our campsite, Ben is ready and waiting beside the loaded cart. His right hand is resting on a clunky metal monster with ‘Olivetti’ written on it.

“I’m a press attaché,” he says with a mischievous grin. “And you’re a typist.”

“A what?”

“You work for Sir Buchanan’s office as a typist. That’s our story, anyway. You came along to assist me during my audience with the former tsar, and now we’re traveling back to Sir Buchanan’s headquarters in Saint Petersburg. So if anyone happens to ask, that’s what you are to tell them. Oh, and you’re British. Your English sounds clean enough.”

“Alright,” I reply, still gaping at the metal monster like a black box with gnashing fangs. “But what is that?”

Ben’s jaw falls open. “You don’t…?” Then he rubs his forehead, sighing deeply. “Jesus Christ. You’ve never used a typewriter. Of course you haven’t. Great. Fantastic.”

“We always write by hand. My penmanship is flawless, Mother saw to that.” She’s still battling with Anastasia, but that’s a war that may go on as long as the one between the sun and the moon.

“Okay. Okay. This works out, actually. Because I’m not going to entertain you all day. So here is your assignment.” Ben slaps the back of what he tells me is a typewriter, and then waves for me to come closer. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and produces a British passport. Every line is filled out except for the name. He slides the paper into the machine and makes some bewildering adjustments. “So, you insert the paper, set the carriage—that’s this roller-type piece here—and type.” He taps forcefully on the keys until two words appear in the blank reserved for the passport holder’s name: Lana Brinkley.

“That’s me?” I ask doubtfully.

Ben smirks, amused. “That’s you.”

“So you could have given me a better name if you wanted to!”

“But then how would you learn humility?” He removes the fraudulent passport, shakes the paper until it dries, folds it into a neat little square, and slips it back into his coat pocket. “If you’re typing a longer message, the typewriter will ding when you’ve reached the end of each line. Then you use the lever to move the paper down, reset the carriage, and resume typing.”

I nod, but without much confidence. This seems complicated.

“You said you wanted a carriage,” Ben teases.

“Yes, one with magnificent draft horses and velvet seats and preferably no less than two servants. Not…whatever that is.”

“Well, if you’re going to pass for a typist, I’m afraid you must learn to type.” He finds me a stack of blank paper in his collection of bags and trunks, and then climbs into the front of the cart as I get into the back. The trousers, I hate to admit to myself, do make it easier to move around, although I’m not sure I approve of how much they accentuate the shape of my body. The thought of Ben looking at me in them gives me a plunging sort of feeling that is half-mortification and half-thrill…not that he has exhibited any interest at all. “Before we go any farther, do you have anything with you that I don’t know about?”

He means things like the heirlooms I have squirreled away in the large steamer trunk: the jewels sewn into my dress, the photograph. I can sense that he wouldn’t want me to have them, although I’m not sure why. In any case, I have no intention of giving them up. The jewels are the only thing of value that I have to trade if we find ourselves in a desperate situation. The photograph is the only string left that connects me back to my family, my home. “No,” I reply primly.

“Good.” He whistles at the mule and she tugs us through the trees and out onto the dirt road that leads, eventually, to the train station. As we ride joltingly along, the creaky cart wheels bumping over every rock and mound and muddy trough, I practice my typing: very slowly at first, and with only my index fingers. I read aloud as I go, gradually picking up speed.

“There once was a German princess born in the Duchy of Hesse. She was very beautiful but very shy. She had a wonderful talent for playing piano, but would run and hide if anyone asked her to perform in public. One day, when she was attending the wedding of her sister, the princess met a prince from a distant kingdom. They were only children, but they instantly knew they had found true love. They snuck off together and carved their names into a window pane. Over the years, each conspired to marry the other. They refused many suitors and wrote each other hundreds of letters. His family did not approve of the princess’s religion and lack of charisma; her family did not approve of the prince’s distant and troubled nation. But at last it became apparent to all that no earthly forces could keep the couple apart. Ten years after their first meeting, the prince and princess were finally married. And they lived joyously and peacefully in each other’s service for the rest of their days.”

Ben lights one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. The smoke doesn’t bother me; on the contrary, it reminds me of Papa smoking his pipe in his study, in the garden, as he read to us by the fireplace, as he danced with Mother in ballrooms back when she could still dance. It reminds me of home. “I’m not sure if you’ll ever give Shakespeare a run for his money, but I’ll admit I’m marginally entertained.”

I smile to myself, sentimental warmth rising in my face. “It’s Papa and Mother’s story.”

“Huh. I didn’t know your people were allowed to marry for love.”

By ‘your people,’ he seems to mean royalty, and there is some derision in his deep voice. “Well, surely duty must come first. But when love can accompany it, that’s a happy coincidence.”

“And what if duty compels you to marry a man who is, say, cruel? Or dreadfully boring? Or in love with another woman? Or who closely resembles a mole-rat?”

I resume my typing with a new exercise. For each letter of the alphabet, I type a French word that begins with it. “I don’t think that sort of thing happens very often.”

“But if it did.”

I shrug, not especially enjoying this topic of discussion. “Then duty comes first, as I said. But I believe most royal couples are perfectly content. At least nine out of every ten.”

“That many!” Ben marvels sarcastically. “Have you ever considered that your own personal experience, as pleasant as it may be, could be coloring your perception of how the world works?”

I ignore him and continue my typing. Attaché for A, bisou for B, croissant for C, doux for D…

After a moment, Ben says: “You aren’t going to regale me with another fairytale? I’m devastated.”

“I’m busy practicing my French now. Please don’t intrude.”

“You speak French as well as Russian and English?” He sounds impressed; for a split second anyway, just long enough for me to catch it like a firefly in my fist.

“And Italian, and Latin. And I’ve just started on Japanese.”

“But no German? That seems like it would be an easier beast to slay.”

“I’ve always purposefully avoided learning it, even though Mother’s family is German. I never envisioned myself marrying a German. I figured Maria could take that bullet. She doesn’t care, she’d marry anyone who could give her a castle and ten babies and a bulldog or two. I would say she was a milkmaid in a past life, but Mother’s heart would stop dead if she thought I subscribed to reincarnation.”

“Not fond of Germans?” Ben asks. “Well, who can blame you. Half the world isn’t fond of them at the moment.”

“I suppose they weren’t so awful before the Great War. But they’re rather boorish, aren’t they? They always sound like they’re angry. Like someone just stole their horse and they’re screaming at them from the front porch to come back or else.” I smile dreamily as I type. “I’ve always fancied the thought of marrying a prince from a glamorous, romantic kingdom. Maybe Italy or Greece. There has even been talk of me marrying Uncle George’s eldest son David. He’s rather beguiling. Tall and slim. Clear blue eyes like a lake. And he’s going to be the king of the British Empire one day, you know. We could holiday together in beautiful, sunny colonies like the Bahamas.”

“You’re still as important as all that? Important enough to make a marriage of that political significance, I mean.” Ben glances back at me and lifts one thick, dark, inquisitive eyebrow. “Seeing as your family doesn’t have a kingdom anymore.”

This is an insensitive thing for him to say. I frown down at the typewriter. “A wife almost always assumes the kingdom of her husband, so why should she require her own? She needs only sound breeding and a suitable temperament. And besides, we might yet return one day.”

Ben twists all the way around to stare at me, the reigns falling out of his hands. Fortunately, the mule seems to know her own way around. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It has been a brutal few years. The Great War, the supply shortages, the bad harvests…the people are frustrated, and understandably so. They lashed out blindly, at those who didn’t deserve it, at us. But the dust will clear. And when it does, I think the Russian people will come to their senses and realize that they want us back. That they need us.”

“Are you insane?” Ben snaps. “Are you utterly brainless? What’s floating around in that skull besides fiction and languages you’ll never use once you’re married off to some prince who only sees you as a broodmare?”

“How dare you! You can’t speak to me like this—!”

“For years, for a bloody decade, Sir Buchanan warned your father about what was coming. He tried to get him to moderate his views, to give the people more voice in government, to stop murdering them when they protested. And when none of that worked and the end was apparent, Sir Buchanan tried to convince your father to abdicate long before he did. Don’t you understand?! None of this needed to happen! Your family could have fled to Britain years ago, before the animosity against your father spread like wildfire across the globe, and Russia could have established their own parliament like Britain’s and negotiated a peace treaty to stay out of the war and none of us would be here now if not for your father’s selfish, pointless obstinacy—!”

“My father is a good man,” I choke out as hot, furious tears burn in my eyes.

“And he was a terrible ruler!” Ben shoots back like artillery. “He ordered protesters to be butchered, he sent untrained boys to die in some other country’s war, he clung to the throne for no one’s benefit but his own—”

“And what about my benefit?” I demand, still weeping, feeling monstrously like a child. “What about my mother’s and my sisters’ and Alexei’s? He must have feared for our futures if we were dethroned and left without any resources, any security, anyplace to call home—”

“He did you no favors,” Ben says harshly. “Half the country—the country that you obviously have not even a rudimentary understanding of—are moderates scrambling to secure the Provisional Government and disentangle themselves from the war while still somehow preserving their dignity and that of the millions of dead soldiers Russia has already laid on the altar. The other half are trying to instigate a wholesale communist revolution. There is no one, no one, who wants the tsar back. And you better pray to God that the communists don’t manage to seize power before King George gets your family out, or your father just might be guillotined on the steps of Saint Basil’s Cathedral.”

I bolt to my feet unsteadily, grip the side of the lurching cart, and leap out onto the dirt road.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ben shouts after me.

I take off sprinting down the road, the wind whipping my face, sobbing as I run beneath the shadows of trees until my lungs are columns of flames and my legs feel wobbly and boneless. I can hear the pounding of the mule’s hooves approaching, the hurtling of wooden wheels, the slapping of leather reins. I am forced to slow to a vigorous march as my body betrays me, wheezing and aching and as ineffectual as a woman is so often assumed to be. The salacious trousers have come in handy once again. Who would have guessed.

Ben pulls up alongside me, reining in the mule to match my pace. “Hey! Get back in the cart!”

“I’ll walk the rest of the way to the railroad station.”

“It’s 200 more kilometers!”

“See you there.”

Now Ben jumps out of the cart. The mule, perplexed but not rattled, comes to a halt and waits in the middle of the road with her long ears angled in opposite directions. Ben rushes in front of me and leans down until we’re at eye-level, breathing heavily. I can smell smoke on him, and something else too: maybe cologne, maybe soap, maybe aftershave, maybe just the scent of a man in his prime. His lips are pink and full and soft-looking, I notice, as if for the first time. His cheeks are irritated and red from the wind; the ruthlessness of the climate here doesn’t agree with him. It is the only way in which I am stronger than he is. His green eyes are wide and blazing. “Get. In. The. Cart.”

“No,” I whisper, tears all over my face.

“You can’t just run off like that,” he pleads, less angry now. “Where are you going to go? There’s nothing out here except trees and…I don’t know…probably bears and wolves and maybe even Siberian tigers. You can’t get ripped apart by wild animals. Don’t you want to make it to London? To argue for your family’s liberation? They could find no fiercer advocate than you, of that I am convinced.”

“How would you possibly protect me from a bear?”

Ben unbuttons his coat and pulls up his white wool sweater to show me a pistol tucked into the holster clipped to his belt. “Just in case,” he says, smirking crookedly, lowering his sweater again. “Now I am keeping no secrets from you, and you are harboring none from me. We’re even.”

I nod, sniffling, thinking of my jewels and photograph hidden in the steamer trunk. My words are so strained I can barely hear them myself, my hands are trembling; hell, I’m trembling all over. The possibility is unimaginable. “Do you really think they’re going to kill Papa?”

Ben sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t,” he replies gently. “I think the Provisional Government will be able to keep the communists in check for now. I think they will leap at the opportunity to ship the former tsar off to Britain without the potential controversy of a trial and execution. And I also think we should get back in the cart and keep moving now.”

“I’m sorry your boss gave you this assignment and now you have to risk your life for a family that you evidently hate,” I lash out like a cornered animal, hissing and brandishing its glinting claws. “For a grand duchess that you hate. This must be an awful inconvenience for you.”

“It’s rather more complicated than that,” Ben says. “There’s some opportunity in it as well.”

Of course: his leather-bound notebook full of observations, his scrawled recollections to one day build into a famed article about our journey. An article full of what he truly thinks about me. I feel suddenly, violently nauseous. I feel horrified.

What happened to the grand adventure that I imagined? Where did it go?

And all at once, I can’t even remember how I pictured this journey unfolding; I can’t conjure up some rose-colored vision of me and Ben falling into an effortless friendship, flirting lightly and innocently, discovering new corners of the earth together, parting ways in London as lifelong confidants. Now I can only see Papa as he murmurs folktales older than Christianity with candlelight dancing on his smiling face, as he chases me and my sisters around the gardens with outstretched arms and sparkling eyes, as he carries Alexei from one room to the next when my brother’s joints are inflamed and excruciating and useless, as he never unburdens his mind to his wife or children but spends long afternoons chopping wood as the sun sinks into the west and the lines in his pale face grow deeper.

He couldn’t be responsible for bloodshed, for mercilessness. He’s not that kind of man. He’s never been that kind of man.

“We really should keep moving,” Ben prompts.

“Fine,” I fling back as I shove by him. I mop my tears away with the sleeve of my wool sweater, climb into the back of the wooden cart, and sit as far as I can from Ben with my bent knees hugged to my chest. I stare silently off into the forest as the mule drags us towards the Trans-Siberian Railroad, towards Moscow and Saint Petersburg and the Baltic Sea and London, towards the conclusion of this tenuous partnership and the redemption of my family. I am looking forward to soon never having to see Benjamin Hardy again, and yet I’m also not; and this is a difficult paradox to put into words of any language.

We don’t stop until it’s almost dusk. Ben hops down from the cart, leads the mule off the road by her bridle (and gives her an encouraging scratch on the forelock when she hesitates), and begins to set up camp in a small clearing encircled by heaps of frost grass. Dinner is loaves of bread again—even more tough and dry than yesterday—and metallic-tasting water from canteens. Dessert is a hand-rolled cigarette for Ben and a handful of honeyberries I found in the bushes for me. And when Ben grapples with the tent, I come over to help him with it just to prove I can.

Ben builds a fire, and we sit wordlessly on opposite sides of it with the reflections of flames in our eyes. Ben jots down today’s thoughts in his notebook, every so often glancing off into nowhere and tapping his chin thoughtfully with the end of his pen, biting his full lower lip absentmindedly as he sifts through the ocean of word in his head to fish out the right one. Meanwhile, I read my copy of Tarzan of the Apes. I stumble across a few English terms I don’t know—quixotic, cartography, constellations, ruminate—but I don’t ask Ben about them.

After a long time, when the moon and stars have emerged bright and ancient in the night sky, Ben closes his notebook and watches me. At first I ignore him. And then, eventually, I can’t anymore.

“What?” I ask irritably, keeping my place in Tarzan of the Apes with my pinky finger, which is nearly numb from the cold.

Ben’s words are calm, restrained, painstakingly chosen. Firelight is fierce and bloody on his face. “I had two infant brothers die of pneumonia, a perfectly preventable illness had they had access to good doctors and proper nutrition and a warm dry home, which they did not. I had a sister die in childbirth because there was no midwife available to attend to her. I have had friends come home from the war with limbs or half their faces missing, a fate which I myself am spared only because of my employment with Sir Buchanan. You have no idea what the world has been through while you were off playing board games and reading novels in greenhouses and lounging on lakeshores with your idyllic little family. You have no idea what life is like for the rest of us. And perhaps that’s not your fault, and it is unjust of me to resent you for it, and I must learn to temper this wrath I’ve been carrying around in my chest since childhood. But it’s still true.”

He stands, clutching his notebook with hands that are red from the savage Siberian wind, and vanishes into the tent.

#ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast fic

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harryspet · 4 years ago

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secret service | bucky barnes

[Warnings] secret service!bucky x reader, reader is vp’s daughter, bodyguard!bucky, agegap, noncon/dubcon sex, brat tamer bucky, dominant x submissive, rough sex (wear protection kids!!)

A/N: this is for @nsfwsebbie ‘s dream fic challenge. Happy b-day sab! this is @mypoisonedvine ‘s dream fic and the prompt was “I would love anything dark bucky, especially if he starts out all nice and stuff but then he's all manipulative and it gets worse and worse until we're in heavy dub con/non con territory”. hope you enjoy bb!

In which a political trip to London allows you to be reunited with your favorite secret service member, Bucky Barnes.

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mandiiblanche @cherienymphe

word count: 3.9k

main masterlist

“You’ll need to be on your best behavior this weekend. We can’t have an incident like last year.”

You didn’t meet your mother’s eyes as you looked out the window of the private plane. Surprising to most, this time you spent watching her read her millions of paperwork was the most time you spent with her. Your mother cared for you but she was not warm. You didn’t believe a warm person could make it so high in the government. Being the daughter of the Vice President, you saw the kinds of dirty, manipulative politics that went on behind the scene.

You wanted little part of it but, here you were, about to land in London for an important public event.

“Y/N? Are you listening?” She continued to talk despite your lack of an answer, “That means you tell your agents when you’re going somewhere. I don’t care if you’re only walking down the hall to the ice machine, you tell them. You’ve known this since you were a little girl, I don’t know why you always give me a hard time.”

“I’m already here alone, Mom. Must you torture me further by suffocating me?”

“I know you must think it’s fun to rendezvous with some foreign prince but I must ask you to keep your legs closed for this trip and listen to your security.”

Your mouth parted. She thought of you as some whore but the truth was that you were far from the persona she forced upon you, “You don’t know me at all. And Alden isn’t a prince, his father is a prince. He’s just a duke,” You faked a smile and she scowled at you.

You weren’t expecting her next words, “I have a surprise for you when we land.”

You paused for a moment, trying to read her face. She was perfect at disguising her true emotions and, as her daughter, the thought that you didn’t really know your mother was saddening, “A surprise? I thought you were lecturing me.”

“You won’t listen unless I bribe you, Y/N,” Just as the words left her mouth, the pilot spoke on the intercom. The plane was beginning its descent and in a moment you’d be landing. One of your mother's assistants had to approve all your outfits for this trip. After some discourse, you decided on a light pink dress for your arrival look. It hugged your curves the way you liked but it reached down to your knees modestly as your mother preferred.

When you were finally stepping down the stairs to the plane, watching your mother wave to the press, and the diplomats ready to greet her, you realized what your surprise was. Two sleek, black cars waited at the end of the red carpet and the sight of the man standing in front of the second one made your heart race.

It took everything in you not to run to him. His dark hair was styled neatly, his arms folded over his nicely pressed black suit and a soft look of happiness was displayed on his strong face. He was just like you remembered him, the earpiece in his ear and the gold pin on his lapel reminded you of his position.

“This is my surprise?” Your mother turned to you with a grin.

“I know how much you like Agent Barnes, maybe you’ll actually listen to him. You’re going straight to your hotel room, I will see you later tonight.”

“Of course, my beloved mother. Like all teenagers, I love sitting in my hotel room and doing nothing while I’m on a trip.”

You watched your mother walk away from you, going to the first car while you approached the second car. Your speed picked up as you neared him. He opened the door for you, winking, “Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach. I repeat, Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach.”

Everyone the secret service protected had a codename. You’d been a proud girl scout for most of elementary school and then middle school when your mother went from Senator to Vice President. The name stuck and you thought it was annoying now that you’d grown out of that phase but you liked the name on his lips.

As you carefully slipped inside the car, you were beaming and, as Bucky slipped in beside you, you had to wait to pounce. You attacked him with a hug as soon as the doors closed and none of the crowd could see you through the tinted windows. You felt his hand against your back, hugging you tightly and it was then that you realized how touch starved you had been.

Everyone you came in contact had to go through your guards and that was often an intimidating process for most guys. Even though you had started college, you decided to avoid boys altogether because of this.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Your eyes were wide even as you pulled away from him, “How?”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, “Well I can’t tell you all the details since they’re top secret but, let’s say, my mission didn’t take as long as predicted.”

Your eyes narrowed at him in curiosity, “So you killed the bad guys and they let you come back to play babysitter?”

Bucky shook his head, giving you an amused look, “So crass. I see nothing has changed,” He leaned over and, for the briefest second, you thought his face was leaning into yours. Instead, he had reached over to grab your seatbelt as he safely secured it around your waist. Your cheeks heated up and you found yourself looking into the rearview mirror where you could see the two agents sitting in the front seat, “I apologize for being gone so long.”

“You didn’t miss much,” You said to console him, “Just senior year which was nothing special.”

Seeing him now made you think about meeting him those six years ago. He was so young then, just having served in the Army, but somehow aging had made him look even better. You had a feeling he was just as king and loyal as before. You were just a middle schooler at the time, hormonal, and constantly fighting with your parents about your lack of freedom. Maybe you hadn’t changed much either.

You watched him fasten his own seatbelt as the car began to take off, “Nothing special, hmm?” He cocked his eyebrow, “What about prom? Graduation?”

“Oh, it was effectively ruined by my arch-nemesis. He stole my spot as Salutatorian, my prom date wouldn’t stop talking to him about nanotech for the entire evening, and guess who got into Stanford for early admission just like yours truly?”

“Little Peter Parker?” Bucky chuckled.

“He’s not so little anymore,” You crossed your arms, pouting, “He’s only jealous that my mother was chosen as Vice President and his uncle was chosen for the lousy Secretary of Labor position.”

“Seems he must like you a lot to follow you to Stanford. To move all the way across the country,” You gave him an incredulous look, “C’mon, princess, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” You rushed out your words, trying to ignore that feeling you got when he called you princess. If anyone else had said that, you’d probably feel disgusted but … you couldn’t help but think that term of endearment had changed its meaning. The truth was that you never thought Peter liked you and now you were worrying that your lack of social awareness had caused you to ignore the warning signs, “The last person I want to talk about is Peter Parker, Bucky.”

“Fine,” He folded his hands in front of him, sighing.

“Besides,” You side-eyed him mischievously, “I have someone far more important who feigns for my attention.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky leaned in.

“A duke,” You finished.

Bucky’s face seemed to fall, “I can’t imagine you as a duchess,” You couldn’t imagine yourself as one either but you liked the excitement that Alden brought you, “And your mother informed me of what happened last year. I’ll probably lose my job if something like that occurs again.”

“You’d tattle on me? I thought we were friends, Bucky.”

“That was when you were a harmless little girl. Now, you’re …” His eyes seemed to roam over your face then they fell to your neck but they moved back to your eyes before they could travel any lower, “You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?”

You reached out to tap his cheek playfully and smirked, “I missed you.”

You weren’t sure exactly what holier-than-thou charity that these rich people had gathered in ball gowns to donate to. It was probably a minuscule fraction of their wealth and they most likely were only here to keep up appearances. Still, you enjoyed a chance to dress up.

You moved through the historical museum in a red ball gown, admiring all the expensive artifacts, as Bucky escorted you. You expected your mother to be with you during the event she’d forced you to attend but it seemed that she was once again too busy. You would’ve felt lonely if Bucky hadn’t been there. The other agents kept their distance, wearing tuxedos to blend into the rest of the crowd as they watched you from a distance.

Every now and then your conversation with Bucky would be interrupted by a message coming through his squiggly earpiece.

He looked quite handsome tonight and by the outline of his biceps against the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, you could tell he had bulked up over the last year.

“Madam Vice President had a run-in with the Prime Minister's wife. Turns out they’ve been dying to talk. She’ll meet you once the auction begins.”

“Oh, an auction, is that what this is? What endangered species are we saving tonight?”

“Funny,” Bucky added sarcastically, “... I don’t see your prince around. Perhaps he found another famous daughter to entertain for the night.”

You gave him a venomous look, “That cannot be possible when I look like this,” You emphasized your glamorous look that had taken nearly five hours to get on, “Now, would you please escort me to my table? I’m sure he’ll come and find me once you’re not standing beside me like a big tree.”

The truth was that you had no idea if Alden even remembered you from last year. He did make out with you but who knows how many famous daughters he had tried to entertain before. You hated how right Bucky seemed.

Bucky didn’t add anything to your harsh words as he escorted you into a large ballroom. It was so elegantly decorated that the room smelled like money. Blue stripes of light wavered through the room making it feel like you were in the middle of the ocean. You couldn’t help that the feeling of drowning that she experienced was a bad touch on the organizer's part.

Of course, your mother’s table was right near the front of the room. As Bucky pulled back the white chair, you took a seat, not meeting his eyes, “You’re dismissed, Mr. Barnes,” You spoke over your shoulder.

To your surprise, he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You cause any problems tonight, princess, and you deal with me.”

Your mouth pinched into a thin line as you were left speechless. When you looked back, he was already walking away, taking his position by the far wall. You looked away quickly, mentally cursing. So much for having the upper-hand. You slouched in your seat, looking around the hall which was now flooding with people.

A few people you vaguely remembered having a conversation with approached you to talk. Hollywood celebrities, European politicians, and even famous designers hoping to get you to wear some of their designs. Lately, the paparazzi loved to follow you as you walked to class and gossip sites loved to talk about what you wore.

Everyone was so busy trying to get your attention that you hadn’t noticed someone slip in the seat beside you, “You look like you need something to drink,” You were a bit startled but you immediately recognized his voice. It seemed a year had made him more handsome as well. With one hand he grabbed yours and kissed it and with the other he handed you a glass of champagne.

“Your grace,” You greeted him, accepting the glass. You had almost forgotten that you could legally drink here. Despite that, you knew it would be improper to your mother. That’s why you took a sip, “Thank you so much-” You winced at the bitter taste but continued to sip.

The young duke was tall and red-headed, his face peppered with adorable freckles. His royal get-up was even more attractive.

You looked back at Bucky who was staring intently, “Is a night of fun in the cards for us?” You turned back to the Prince.

“I’m not supposed to rendezvous with royalty anymore. My Mom was not happy with me.”

He leaned back casually in his chair, his leisurely nature was surprising to you, “Is she usually happy with you?”

“Touche,” You took another painful sip, “Still, I’m not supposed to leave this table and I’m supposed to go straight back to my hotel room. No funny business.”

“No shenanigans whatsoever?” He frowned and you wondered why the British accent was so heavenly, “You must, at the very least, keep me entertained through whatever ceremony this is-”

“An auction, your grace.”

“What endangered species are we trying to save this time? It won’t be enough money anyways since they decorated this place with literal diamonds,” You smiled as you saw him reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask, “Something stronger, perhaps?”

Bucky tapped his foot, starting to tune out the voice in his ear.

The room was now full of socialites, Madam Vice President had been escorted to her seat, and now the auction was beginning. The Vice President hadn’t so much as hugged her daughter so Bucky doubted she had noticed you were drinking yet. The young Duke would refill your glass with a clear liquid every time it ran low.

You were now giggling and laughing with him as a serious speech was given. You had to be at least six shots in. You played with his hand in your lap, leaning over to whisper in his ear, as you had the time of your life.

Bucky didn’t panic, only made a quick decision, “Girl Scout is in need of some rescuing. Clear the exit.”

Bucky scanned the room and his men began to follow his orders, as he approached your table. Before you could take another sip of your drink, his hand was on your shoulder. Your mother flashed him a concerned look but Bucky gave her a look to tell her not to worry. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed yet that you were about to go off the rails.

“Want some?” You smiled lazily as you lifted your glass. Bucky took it from you, setting back on the table.

“I think you need to use the bathroom, Miss Y/L/N,” You gave him a confused look. You wondered why he was being so stern with you.

“Nooo, I think you have the wrong woman, officer,” Bucky grabbed onto your hand, urging you up from your seat, “Let me deal with this rude man, your grace, I’ll be back soon.”

It seemed the Duke was in a similar, drunk state and simply replied with, “Return soon, my darling. I shall wait for your return-” You couldn’t respond because Bucky was trying to pull you away. Luckily, Bucky hadn’t managed to cause a scene but he knew you’d end up getting blackout drunk and embarrassing your mother if you continued.

Agents flocked around the two of you as you were guided out of the room. You almost tripped on the long skirt of your dress though Bucky easily caught you. You held onto him, giggling, “You couldn’t make it one night, could you?” You walked through a long hallway, staff carrying large plates of food passed and stared.

He brought you to the bathroom which was ginormous in itself, chandeliers hanging across the length of it, and completely empty, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, officer.”

He leaned against the wall, “Walk around. Splash water on your face. Sober up.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the sink counter, as you stared at your makeup. As if you would ruin your makeup to “sober up”.

You pouted, staring at him through the mirror, “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Bucky. Only my mother.”

“Your mother is my boss. When you upset her, she’s upset with me,” Bucky was terse, and you wondered where that soft side was starting to disappear to, “You shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”

You huffed, hating that this conversation was starting to ruin your buzz, “I’m not a child. Don’t tell me you never had a sip of alcohol before you were twenty-one.”

“You think you’re more mature than you actually are,” You couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face, “You’re not drinking for fun. You’re drinking to spite your mother.”

He moved closer, his hands behind his back as he sunk his words into you like a knife. You turned to him, taking a challenging step toward him. He towered over you but you clung to that anger and turned it to what you thought was confidence.

You grinned up at him, reaching out to play with the buttons of his jacket, “I thought you knew me better, Bucky,” You looked up at him with longing eyes, “I’m not a little girl anymore and you know that. You look at me differently. Your eyes linger on places you shouldn’t even be watching.”

Bucky grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, “Stop,” You knew you had touched a nerve.

“See, I know these things now,” You teased, “You like it when you can swoop me up and save me.”

“It’s my job, Y/N,” He spoke sternly. He was still holding you despite his words.

“What is it that you really want from me?” You pressed yourself closer to him, “A kiss maybe? Or something more forbidden?”

His eyes were dark with lust and you watched them linger on your lips at the mention of a kiss. What exactly did you want from him and what hole had you just dug for yourself? The alcohol was giving you courage but you weren’t actually sure how to finish what you started.

Bucky decided for you. He turned your body quickly, pressing your back into him, as a hand tightened around your throat. He faced you toward the mirror and the two of you were illuminated with bright lights. Your eyes widened as you watched him lean into your ear, “You’re such a brat ….”

Maybe part of him wanted you to mess up. Maybe he wanted a reason to get you alone with him and away from the royal douche that you were talking to. Maybe he let you get to this point ...

“Bucky, what are you-” His hand tightened around your throat and you felt your knees go weak.

He shushed you, “You asked what I really wanted. I want to punish you, princess,” Shivers went through your body as his warm breath tickled your ear, “I want to fuck you speechless so you can’t talk back with that smart little mouth of yours anymore.”

You started to struggle against you but you felt his fingers tighten around the sides of your throat. His hands were so big that they wrapped perfectly around your neck, “Hands on the counter,” He loosened his grip but only so he could push you forward. Like instinct, your hands held the sink counter. You turned your head to look back at him but he grabbed your hair, forcing your face forward, “Look forward, I want you to be able to see your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” You forced out shakily as you felt the back of your dress being slowly unzipped. Through the mirror, you watched as he carefully took in the view of your body, “Please don’t hurt me-”

“Have I ever hurt you before?” He interrupted you, his hands traveling over your bareback, “I’ll always protect you, princess. I just think, if I’m going to keep doing my job, we need some new rules.”

The straps of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your breast. Again, as you tried to look away, he forced your face towards the mirror again, “Don’t be shy now,” He pulled down your panties, slapping your now exposed bottom, sending a stinging pain through your skin.

There was aching between your legs and part of you feared what he’d discover when he took a closer look. As you watched him undo his belt, a dark look in his eyes, you knew that he was going to push you all the way. He slapped your ass again, watching your body convulse as you tried to run from the pain. Surprisingly, his intimate touch only made that aching grow.

Upon closer examination, Bucky did discover the wetness between your legs. You bit down on your lip as his fingers roamed over your sweet spot, rubbing your sensitive bulb. You bent over further, allowing him more access which caused Bucky to smirk.

Something switched in him once again because suddenly he was pouncing again, positioning himself behind you as he pushed you further against the counter. He wanted you to see his face as he entered you, roughly grabbing your hair as he teased you entrance with his hard, throbbing cock.

“Please…”

“Please what? You want me to fuck you?” You closed your eyes, unwilling to answer, only to receive another smack to your bottom, “Don’t worry about what you want, princess, I’m making the decisions here.”

He stretched you as he slowly entered you and you tightly wrapped around his member, “Fuck, Y/N,” He cursed, moving deeper inside of you. At that moment, he was all that could feel, and all that consumed your thoughts. He moved torturously slow in and out of you and you gasped every time he sunk his entire length within you.

“Bucky!” You cried out, your mouth wide as you gripped the counter for dear life, “Ah, t-t-too big … p-please. Ah!”

He moved faster now, reaching around to grab ahold of your breast as he thrust inside of you. You called his name again and that only made him speed up his pace. He was torturing with his ferocity and now you wished he’d go back to taking it easy on you. You watched in the mirror as he split you apart, taking whatever innocence you had left within you, “Good girl, princess,” He praised you, “Taking my cock. So. Good.”

He was moving too fast now. With each thrust, he was hitting the right spot and sending pleasure in cascading waves through your body. You couldn’t take it, already tightening around his cock as you orgasm. You tried to run from it, trying to pull your body forward but he grabbed your arms, forcing you back onto his cock. Tears stung your eyes as he went even deeper.

When he finally came, he grunted hard, his moaning deep and heavy. You were defeated, conquered, though you didn’t understand why being violated could feel so good.

You leaned against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily, before pulling up his pants and tightening his belt again. He adjusted his earpiece before looking at you over again. Shaking, you were pulling up the straps of your dress.

“Sober now?” He asked, a wicked smile on his face. “Let’s try yes sir and no sir from now on. Understand?”

“Yes… Sir.”

i love the whole secret service concept so i hope you enjoyed it too!

#dark fic #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky smut #marvel #marvel smut #writing challenge #bucky barnes angst #secret service!bucky #president au #politician au

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ms-indifferwnt · 4 years ago

Text

“I’m Cold”

“I’m cold"

“And?”

“Can’t you give me your jacket or something?”

“Can’t you accept my proposal and marry me already?”

In which Prince Donghyuck’s parents are forcing him to get married and he decided to propose to the first girl he sees to shut his parents up

Genre: Prince!Lee Donghyuck x Maid!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage (kinda), Slowburn

Warnings: Curse words, Suggestive, [In this Chapter] Sexual and Physical harassment

Notes: Chapter 8 of Im Cold. This one was written fairly quickly cause of my background music and I never realized I’ve already wrote this much anyway enjoy

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

Prev / Chapter 8 / Next

Its been a day since the fight and neither of you made a move to speak to one another. You didn't approach him in fear of getting yelled at, Well that's part of the truth, the other part was basically you not wanting to look into the prince's eyes and see how hurt and sad he was.

That day he didn't wake you up, he sat at the dining table, actually this was the first time he sat down and ate in the palace in almost two weeks, you and him would always eat out and come home before lunch return for a couple of duties and stay in your room the rest of the day while The Prince goes to his lessons and remaining schedule

He takes the tea that Yuta offered him as Doyoung reads out his schedule for the day, "You have a schedule later at Ten A.M. a meeting with the neighboring countries' Dukes for an exchange that could possibly benefit the kingdom" He looks at his notes "Or at least that is what they said, so attending this meeting is mandatory Your Highness, then next you also have a Lunch date with the Earl of WayV later, Do you remember his name from your last meeting?" Making the Prince nod Doyoung hums in approval "Its Lord Kun and Lord Ten, Your Majesty" He reminds just incase the Young Prince was bluffing and he continues rambling on about his schedule

The Prince takes a sip and looks at the other cup of coffee and snickers "You'd might not want to send that to father" making Yuta look at him in slight confusion "Mother is lessening Father's caffeine intake"

"Of course you're right" Yuta spoke and Doyoung stopped, and Yuta bows in respect "This is for Lady Y/n," Donghyuck visibly straitened at the mention of her name and he looks at the older male "She ate breakfast as her Maid went to fetch it this morning but I thought I'd make her a drink as well"

Donghyuck looks at the coffee, the two of you haven't spoken a word, To you that was probably one of the worst punishments someone could ever grant, you have no idea what you did to you silence is fear and the fact the Prince is avoiding enough proof that you did something unforgivable, Donghyuck on the other hand saw this as an opportunity, an opportunity to get away from you, an opportunity to stop the rapid beating of his heart when he sees you, the perfect opportunity to use as the reason why you two would break up, It was perfect, he then looks at his tea before placing it down and grabbing the coffee "I'll drink this" He hums and takes a sip "Get her something new," He looks back at Doyoung "like Hot Chocolate and some cookies" he suggested, knowing very well that is exactly what Yuta will bring you

Yuta knocks on your door, humming when you answered. When he entered you were there in a sunflower patterned sundress sitting on the window sill as the wind poured into your room going though your hair and skirt, the sun painting you in a light cozy atmosphere and both of you meet eyes "Good Morning" You smiled softly

He bows and nods "I have brought you some cookies and Hot Chocolate" he says and places it on your side and happily serves you the cup

You smile "Weird" you murmur and he looks at you with a questioning glance "Cookies and Hot chocolate are my favorite" you answered and looked at the cookie before taking a bite "No way" you said and took another bite "This- This is from my favorite shop, how did you?" You look at him amazement, placing the half eaten cookie down no longer having the appetite to eat that

He chuckles "The Prince suggested that shop" He answers, and offers you a tissue as you moved to suck on your fingers when the chocolate chip coated your finger "He as quite adamant about that shop and now I see why" His eyes travel to your bedside where an uneaten tray of today's breakfast sat and he looks at you "Was today's breakfast not to your liking today My Lady?" He asks nd takes the tray "I could ask the kitchen to make something more of your liking

You flinched and looked at it before shaking your head "No, The food was delicious" You defended

"And yet, you have not touched it"

"I'm not hungry, I barely eat breakfast on normal days anyway"

"Breakfast is an important meal, you've been eating with the Prince"

"Cause he whines when I don't" She smiles "And you know the best way to get the Prince to stop is by giving him what he wants"

"It's because the Prince wants you to be happy and healthy"

You wiped your hand on the tissue he had offered, thinking about what he said, words of the unsuspecting, nobody besides you and The Prince really did know that this little arrangement was fake "Did," You spoke before you could stop yourself and he hums waiting for you to continue "Did he call for me?"

"No, My Lady" He answers and you nod, bowing. He leaves your room once you start looking out the window once again, he stops at the door way just about when he leaves "If my Lady is bored the library is always open, and reading a book in the patio is definitely a must try" he smiles and leaves making you watch him

You gave his leaving figure a sad smile "When was the last time I sat down and read a good book?"

Donghyuck had his papers and notes in his arms and went in the direction of the Tea room in order to make a good impression on this meeting, he reads through them murmuring to himself as he reads through it, keeping every thought of you in the back of his mind and made sure you stayed there, he could not afford messing this up.

You on the other hand had three thick books, excited to read them on the patio just like what Yuta has suggested, you were excited, you haven't had a day off where you could read books like this anymore. You don't wanna think about Donghyuck, not right now at least, let him stay out of your head an let you drown into your own world with the books.

You balanced them and carefully (so you won't accidentally bump into anyone) going to the direction of the patio. that was until you felt something by your feet, you tripped making the books fall some papers in between spill out and you yelped, not cause it hurt (it did) but the books were of more value than your life, these are old and kept in the library of the royal palace, you could get an earful from both the Prince and his Parents at this rate and that is something you want to avoid. The sun dress you were wearing was slightly caked in dirt, you hair that Hana has taken the time to fix falling out of the pins she has place. "The books!"

You looked up and was met with an awful looking woman, her hair was pompously styled showing off nothing but arrogance, he make up caked, skin one, two shades lighter than her arms, he lips a horrible shade of red and you can tell from the girl who looks at you in disgust, is her daughter, they look alike, too alike its uncanny "So you're the girl My Donghyuck is going to marry"

Donghyuck flipped over the page he was on, two young maids and a butler of the palace walking ahead of him, unaware of the Prince behind them, He keeps reading, focusing on the topic of his meeting with the Duke, Duke Park Bong, he stops come to think of it the name is familiar in a way he can't put his finger on. He probably heard the name in one of his lessons, no matter he can wing it. He continues on his journey and focusing on the notes at hand

"Did you see the Duchess and her Daughter?" asked one maid to the other and Donghyuck zones them out making a mental note to greet the guests after the meeting

"You mean out by the Garden?" The other replies "ofcourse I have"

"Y/n was with them right?" The butler chuckles "On her knees as the Duchess' daughter spoke to her so ruthlessly" Donghyuck looked up at the sound of your name and looks at the three in confusion "All she could do is look down at the ground"

"Serve her right" Says one maid angrily "Seriously can't stand her, can't believe she seduced the Prince and is now the pearl of the Palace"

Donghyuck stopped walking at their words, in shock and anger bubbling up inside of him. Fake or not, no one is allowed to hurt you an think so little of you, no one, he opens his mouth to speak

"Do you think she gives good blow jobs if the Prince likes her that much?" asked the butler jokingly "If she did it for the Prince I don't think she'll mind going on her knees for me, or even better on all fours" he laughs

He walks, faster and faster catching up to the three and landing a swift and clean punch to the Butlers face making the maids scream and move to yell at the sudden intrusion only to stop at the sight of the Prince giving them a glare "Say all that again"

They bowed down in fear, and the butler back away at the sight of the Prince, his glove red from the blood that the Prince managed to hit "She may be a maid" Donghyuck says his voice dangerously quiet "But she is my Fiancé, The woman I love, The girl that will one day be Queen once I take the Throne and you dare speak of her that way?" They started shaking doing anything to look at everything but the Prince "Where is she?" they kept their mouths shut, he tilts his head to the side before walking towards one maid who back up "I said, where is she? Now!" He yells and the other maid broke out into a sob in fear cowering under the terrifying atmosphere the Prince has set up, his notes were scattered all over the floor and he could careless his only priority was you

"G-garden, your majesty" The butler answer as he stood up and bowed at the sight of the Prince

Donghyuck turns in the other direction, away from the Tea room and towards the Garden "You're all absolutely Disgusting," He says and turns his head just to look at the three of them "Get out of my sight" he answers and runs

You yelped once the girl grabs you by the hair and pulled you up to face her your hand on her wrist and holding it tightly "You're nothing but a palace rat!" she huffs and lets go of you making you fall "Why did My Donghyuck ever choose you?!" She yelps once you found what you were looking for holding it tightly made her yelp and drop you "Mommy! She hurt me!" She calls once you looked up at them, confusion and anger in your eyes, you have no idea who they are but you hate them, you can fight for yourself you were sure of that but why are they mad at you

The mother, moved to grab your hair, anger in her eyes "You have no right to touch my daughter rat! You spend time as the Prince's Fiance and you forget your place! You are a maid of the Palace, a nobody, someone with very little value-" You let out a loud yelp at the tight she had

"You forget your place" You retaliated and glared at the woman "I am at My home and you are a guest, Duchess" You answered and tried to pry her hand off "Neither of you have the right to raise your voice at me and hurt me!" you said venom and anger dripping every word

The Prince appears "Let her go" He says his anger from the encounter a while ago and now he was even more angry at the sight infront of him. He runs to hold and pull you away from them once The Duchess lets go inshock, he places you down and hold you close as you gasped and clinged, hiding your face in his chest in an attempt to calm yourself, you were angry and in pain and Donghyuck became your rock as he glared at them

"Baby!" The girl said happily once seeing her "I missed you"

"Haneul, you're absolutely horrible" He says and covers you from sight when Haneul glares at him and you "Neither of you deserve to be in our presence nor be in my palace"

"But Baby!-" Haneul starts and gets cut off by The Duchess who started explaining herself

He rolls his eyes "Save it, I heard enough. Harming a fellow person is already enough for punishment but harming the light of my life?" He smiles and it made Haneul and her mother freeze at the sight "Do you even know why you're in my palace?" He taunts and moves to nuzzle you as you sobbed into his chest, everything was just becoming too much, the fight with Donghyuck and now this one, You were just so scared and sad and now here you were sobbing into the Prince's chest. Donghyuck hates them more after hearing you try to calm your self, silent sobs and sharp intake sof breath are what can be heard from you "You're in my Palace because the Duke wants to talk matters with me," He continues and looks to the side to see them in his peripheral vision, and it looks like the duchess has the gist of what's going to happen as Haneul continues on glaring at You

He lifts you up, making you gasp and he shushes you, shifting you so you'll be comfortable in his arms, "You're safe" I'm sorry, He thinks, then looks at Haneul and The duchess "I think the the will be greatly disappointed to loose the worth of his family name, title, and watch his wife and Duaghter rot in prison now, don't you think?" He asks and carries you in the palace leaving the scattered books and speechless Duchess

"wa-wait" You said and wrapped your arms around his neck "The- the books" You said inbetween sobs and pulled away from his chest making Donghyuck finally see your face

Tear stained cheeks and red swollen eyes, he hated the Duchess and Haneul for treating you and here you were worried about Books, he turns his head to see the books scattered, "Doyoung can pick those up" He answers and walks to your room

You shake your head, "No Donghyuck" You said panicked "Those books are older than you" He looks at you, trying to understand why that would be worth more "They're irreplacable"

He looks at you everything you just said made his entire being disagree "No" He answers, A book can be bought again, a book can be borrowed, a book can be re-printed, a book can be replaced "You're irreplacable" He answered and finally sprinted to your bedroom, clinging on to him more

He gently places you down on your bed his hand flying to your head, "Are you ok?" He visibly softens, he knows your scared of him when he's angry so now he calms down and rubs your scalp "Stupid question really" he admits, and you leaned into his touch and he had to control the heat that spread on your cheeks "I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier, If I had known-"

"you saved me" You answered and cut him off, you didn't look ok,"Thank you"

He looks at you worried "You should change" He murmurs "Go take a shower and change" He stands, reluctantly pulling away from you and taking a step back "I'll call Hana" He says and you shake your head once he reaches your door

"Stay" You whisper, "Please? Stay here"

"You're Highness" Doyoung entered your room making Donghyuck let go of the hand he was holding, Doyoung clears his throat "My Prince, may I speak with you outside?"

Donghyuck nods and smiles assuring you, "I'll be right back" He promises and moves off your bed and into the hallway where Doyoung was waiting

You sat there, being in your thoughts gave you enough time to think about what The prince said The light of his life, The Prince was taking the agreement to seriously. None of his words are true, he's only doing this caused he promised to take care of you in the time you are his Fiance and that time is almost over

"Donghyuck are you alright?" Doyoung asks the moment The Prince closes your door and hugs him "Is Lady Y/n alright? I heard what happened The Duke was about to issue a warning 'till he word got around what his wife and Daughter did" He pulls away

Donghyuck leaned against the wall "We're ok," He assures but he still looked angry and Doyoung knows he has every right to "Strip the family of their title and issue a warrant to in prison the former Duchess and Haneul for physical abuse, Physical assault" He starts "Against my Fiancé" Doyoung stares at him in surprise "Please like they'll go to jail, they'll can pay a fee" Doyoung stays in place and Yuta walks past them only for Donghyuck to call him

"Yuta Hyung" He calls and the older stops, turning to look at the Prince, who seemed to have a lot on his mind "There should be a a butler with a bloody and hopefully a broken nose somewhere, get him and his friends, out of my palace and charge him with Sexual Assault"

Doyoung became wide eyed and looked at the young Prince "What- Why? What happened"

Donghyuck didn't answer and looks at them with an unamused look "Go" He said and the two left to listen to his orders. "Jaehyun" he calls after dialing the number on his phone "I need you to cook pasta" He starts

Jaehyun scoff on the other side of the phone "You don't like pasta"

"Yeah, But it's not for me"

"Did the Queen crave pasta again?"

"No, It's for Y/n, She likes Pasta"

I’m Cold Taglist:

@staysstrays @tyongf-sunflower99 @jackyeongljin @rebel-lious-alien @daydreamiies @channiespup @jaeshark @itlittlefangirl @ncttboo @manutuankim

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imagineyourworld-old · 4 years ago

Text

The Duchess and the Captain (Part One)

Captain Rex x Fem!Duchess!Reader

Summary: Regency AU! Marrying Duke Palpatine was not your idea of a perfect marriage, but meeting a certain Captain in his personal guard might make up for it.

Warnings: This is in no way historically accurate and the names I came up with are truly terrible, mentions of sex

Check out my other works: Masterlist

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Of course you had always known you’d one day have to marry a man your parents chose for you. And yet you couldn’t stop hoping and wishing that you wold marry a handsome, kind man, maybe even someone close to your own age instead of the older men your friends were married off to. But these dreams stopped the moment your parents told you who they had chosen as your husband. “Duke Palpatine is a very respectable man with a huge fortune”, your mother had told you. “He will provide for you and any children you will have”, your father had added. “And he’s old, if you’re lucky he’ll die sooner rather than later”, your brother had tried to console you. Of course your parents hadn’t appreciated that comment. But now here you were, in a carriage larger than any you had ever traveled in, on your way to your new home. Just hours after the wedding ceremony your new husband, though part of you still refused to call him that, had told you he’d need to leave for one of his many estates first thing in the morning. And after the wedding night, which you refused to think about, he left with most of his men, leaving you to travel to your new home without your husband. “I can tell you miss him already”, your mother smiled. She was accompanying you to your new home and would stay a few weeks to help you get settled until the Duke’s return. You turned away from the landscape you had been looking at through the window. Deep down you knew you had no reason to be mad at your mother, all she had done was make sure you were married to a wealthy man. It wasn’t her fault you were not allowed to choose your own husband, nor that Palpatine had proposed and your father had accepted the offer. In fact, you didn’t even know whether your mother had any say in the decision. “It’s hard to miss someone you only knew for a single day, even if that someone is your husband”, you told her. Just as she opened her mouth to reply the carriage came to a sudden halt and a moment later someone knocked on the door. You opened it just a little bit to reveal General Skywalker, the leader of the troop of your husband’s personal guard that was accompanying you. “General”, a small smile found its way to your lips at the sight of the friendly face and you opened the door a bit wider. “Why are we stopping?” The young General bowed his head ever so slightly while still keeping eye contact. “We were just informed that part of the way was flooded due to heavy rains last night, your Grace. I thought it best to stop at this inn for tonight and continue our journey tomorrow.” You tried your best to smile politely, even though this unexpected stop was the last thing you wanted right now. “Of course, General.”

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Just a few minutes later General Skywalker lead you into the main room of the small inn, your mother following with the Captain, whose name you had not yet learned. “If you’ll allow, my lady, I will arrange the rooms while you wait with Captain Rex”, the General said. He turned around to look at the other man and you did the same. Of course you had noticed him from a distance, but from up close you could see that his eyes were not dark, but a light caramel brown and even hints of brown roots where his hair was growing out. “I will be just fine with the Captain. Thank you, General.” Only a moment after General Skywalker left another man approached you. He looked so much like the Captain, you assumed they must be related somehow. He bowed to you and your mother before turning to the Captain to tell him something in a quiet tone. “ “Alright, Fives”, the blond agreed after a while. Just as the other man turned to leave, however, your mother asked him to escort her back to the carriage to get some personal belongings she didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on. “You don’t mind waiting here for me, do you, darling?”, she asked you. You shook your head and just a second later you were alone with the Captain. You tried your hardest not to look at him and inspect your surroundings instead, but you could feel his eyes on you. His stare, though burning, felt protective and comfortable rather than threatening, but after a while it made you face him nonetheless. “Is there something you want to say to me, Captain?”, you asked in your best Duchess voice, a tone you still needed to practice a lot more based on the glint in his eyes. “Nothing at all, your Grace.” You nodded. A small smile graced his handsome face and there was a certain warmth in his eyes you did not expect from someone in your husband’s guard. “I must admit, you are not like I expected you to be”, he finally said after a moment of silence. You knew it wasn’t his place to say such things, and based on the shadow that took over his features he knew as well, but you couldn’t help but be intrigued. “I do hope that’s a compliment”, you said with a smile. The first real smile, you suddenly realized, in weeks. The Captain nodded. “It most certainly is. You are younger than I expected, kinder, and more beautiful as wel-” “Captain”, General Skywalker interrupted his kind words. Any warmth disappeared from the Captain’s face as realization set in. He stood up even straighter than before as he turned to face the General. “I am sorry, sir. I should not have said those things.” Even though you barely knew the man you could tell General Skywalker was fighting a smile and there was a hint of amusement behind his sinister expression. “You should apologize to the Duchess, not to me, and hope she was not offended by what you just said.” The Captain turned back to you with a blush on his face. He wore a schooled look of remorse and respect, but there was just a hint of fear in his eyes. “I was not offended, Captain Rex. Quite the opposite, you paid me very kind compliments and I should hate for you to be punished for that.” Your last words were directed more at the General than the Captain. “T- Thank you, my lady”, the blond stuttered with a look of utter relief on his face. You would have liked to say something else, maybe even compliment him in return, but your mother’s arrival destroyed any thought of that. “I would like to be shown to my room now”, she said. Her words, her posture and her tone made you realize how inappropriate your conversation with the Captain had been. A Duchess should demand respect and not talk to her guard as if he were her friend, even if that guard was good looking and nice and made her feel like a person for the first time in a while.

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You stood in front of the grandest and most beautiful house you had ever seen in your life. How this could be called a house instead of a palace was, quite frankly, beyond you. There were more windows than you could count, a polished facade and flowers growing all around it. You could hear a soft “oh” coming from your mother, who stood a few feet behind you. It would take you a while to get used to the fact that your mother, being a lady, would now always stand behind you, the Duchess of Empireshire. In front of the house stood the servants, from the butler and the housekeeper to the gardeners and kitchen maids. As if on command they bowed or curtsied the moment your eyes landed on them. When they came up again a good looking man with a well kept beard approached you, followed by a beautiful woman with the kindest eyes you had ever seen. “Allow me to introduce myself, your Grace. I am the butler, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And this is Satine Kryze, the housekeeper. Welcome to Senatehall.” You gave both of them a smile you hoped looked graceful, even though you felt incredibly out of place. In this moment you were supposed to have your husband by your side, to take your hand and guide you to your new home. Though you supposed being alone was favorable to having Palpatine with you. “Thank you, Kenobi, Kryze.” At least you knew how to address your new employees. “Thank you for this kind welcome. I am very much looking forward to exploring this breathtaking house, but for now all I want is to retire, preferably with a cup of tea.” You could almost sense your mother’s nod of approval. This was how a Duchess was supposed to behave, not getting lost in a Captain’s eyes in a roadside in. A Captain you had not even seen all day. “Certainly, my lady”, Kryze, though you couldn’t help calling her Satine in your mind, said. She waved and a young woman approached. She could not be much older than you were, though you considered her to be a whole lot prettier. “This is Padmé. She will be your lady’s maid, unless of course you brought your own with you.” You shook your head to tell her that you had not. In fact, you had never even had your own lady’s maid and had shared one with your mother your whole life. “It is nice to meet you,Padmé.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you too, my lady. Would you like me to show you to your rooms?” With a single nod from you Padmé ushered you inside. Though you could see how beautiful and expensive everything was on the inside, you were too tired to actually pay attention to anything. “I hope everything is to your liking. I took the liberty to redecorate a bit, but of course you’re free to change anything you like”, Padmé said as she opened one of the doors in the very long hallway. She stepped aside to let you enter and you found yourself in a stunning sitting room. Two small sofas were in the middle of the room with a table between them. The walls were lined with shelves, some filled with books, other with small trinkets or flowers. Next to the huge windows overlooking the park stood a small writing desk with nothing but a picture of your husband on it, which you decided to ignore for now. “Padmé, it is beautiful”, you told the other woman. She lowered her head in thanks, but you could see a smile gracing her lips. “I am glad. Would you like to see the bedroom and the bathroom before your tea arrives?” The bedroom was just as beautiful, though a bit smaller. Two wardrobes stood on both sides of the door, a vanity table next to the window and a small nightstand with a bouquet of flowers next to the bed. The bed, however, took up most of the room. It was gigantic, bigger than any bed you had seen before, and beautiful with its soft pink blankets, matching pillows and canopy hanging around it. But it made you nervous as well. You hated thinking about what would eventually have to happen in that bed, and who it would happen with. One night had been more than enough and your husband had not hurt you, it had been nothing like the sweet and romantic experience your friend Nova had described to you in whispers after her own wedding night. Other than the bedroom and the sitting room, the bathroom was nothing special. Still pretty, but mostly practical. “You’re tea is here, my lady”, Padmé called from the sitting room, but you barely registered her words. The other woman entered the bedroom just a second later. “Are you alright, your Grace?” It was only when you felt her hand on your shoulder that you were awaken from your trance. “I’m fine, thank you. Could you help me loosen my corset, though? I can barely breath in this thing.” Padmé got straight to work. She helped you undress and loosed the string of your corset a bit. Immediately you felt freer and could actually take deep breaths. “Is that better, my lady?” You nodded in relief. “Much, thanks. Though I wish you’d stop calling me that, I am (Y/N).” Though Padmé stood behind you, you could see her from the vanity mirror. She shook her head, but a smile was on her lips. “I don’t think I can to that. It’s not proper.” You turned around. Being alone with someone your age, having your corset loosened and finally realizing your position made you desperate. “I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re going to spend a lot of time together and I would be more comfortable if you called me by my name. Plus, I need a friend since I don’t know anyone here and I’m hoping you might be that friend and friends call each other by their first names.” This time Padmé saw no other choice but to agree.

------

Being alone for the first time since the wedding and the warm tea in your stomach made you more relaxed than you had been for a while and before you knew it you were asleep. When you woke you didn’t remember even falling asleep, nor why you had woken up. Only the warm and secure feeling the dream gave you remained, until your growling stomach made even that disappear. You sat up from the rather uncomfortable position on the sofa and looked around the room. The moon outside was illuminating most of it and a small fire did the rest, nonetheless you were shivering. Quickly you made your way to the bedroom, where you found a warm, soft robe folded at the foot of the bed. You slipped it on while your stomach growled again. Back in the sitting room the clock on the bookshelf told you that it was already half past nine. Which was way past dinner time and made you wonder why no one had woken you up to eat. But you decided not to dwell on the though, instead you opened the door and slipped into the hallway. It was dark, only a few candles were lit along the walls, but they gave you enough light to find your way downstairs to the entry hall. From there on, though, you had no idea where to go. Finally, after trying to remember whether Padmé had even told you what direction the kitchen was in, you headed down another hallway. This one was darker than the one upstairs, and colder as well. You shivered in your thin dress and robe, but didn’t want to give up your search for the kitchen. “Who’s there? Reveal yourself!”, a stern voice sounded from your right. Though you knew it wasn’t the smartest move, you yelped and turned around with wide eyes. “I- Miss (Y/N), no, wait! Duchess (Y/N)”, you remembered your new title. Suddenly a door opened and illuminated the hallway. Due to the sudden brightness you didn’t recognize who stepped out, you only saw a tall, muscular man. You opened your mouth to scream for help, hoping someone would wake up and hear you, when the man spoke. “Your Grace, you really should not be here this late at night.” “Captain Rex?”, you asked, recognizing his voice. The Captain stepped closer so that you could finally see his face. His eyes seemed to be glowing in the dark hallway, though his eyebrows were crunched in confusion. “What are you doing here?”, he asked in an almost hushed voice and suddenly you realized how inappropriate the situation was. Though you were still dressed, your corset was looser than you were used to, you hair had come loose and parts of it hung down your back, not to mention that you were alone with him. “I was looking for the kitchen. I missed dinner because I fell asleep and now I’m awake and I’m hungry and I was hoping there might be some leftovers in the kitchen, or maybe at least some fruit. Maybe a couple of strawberries. I love strawberries, don’t you?” You knew you were rambling, but you had no idea why. This was now your house and you shouldn’t need excuses to be wandering the halls, no matter what time. You stood up straighter, prepared to tell the Captain as much should he say anything else. But he didn’t question you any further, instead he let out a low chuckle. “You’re as far from the kitchen as it gets. It’s downstairs, and that’s quite a maze itself. But if you let me I could guide you back to your room and you could send someone to get you a snack.” You had no idea what made you blush, his words or the sound of his laughter, but you felt your cheeks heat up and suddenly had the desire to pull the robe tighter around your body. “I actually don’t want to bother anyone, the servants should be asleep by now and-” “You really think they’re asleep already?”, he interrupted you. As soon as the words left his mouth his eyes darkened. “I’m sorry. I should not have interrupted you. Forgive me, your Grace.” As much as you disliked Padmé calling you “your Grace” and “my lady” hearing the Captain apologize was worse. “Please, feel free to interrupt me whenever I speak untruths. It’s a service, not an offense.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Neither did you for a moment. “I still don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I will just go down to the kitchen and get a piece of bread or something. Perhaps you could point me in the right direction”, you finally said. The blond looked at you with raised eyebrows. He seemed to be thinking about what to say. “With all due respect, my lady, I don’t think you will find your way to the kitchen by yourself.” He stopped for a moment. “I could show you, if you want.” “Lead the way, Captain”, you said with a relieved smile. He didn’t lead the way, instead he walked right beside you, closer than he probably should. You kept glancing at him from the side. There was no denying that he was good looking, and nice as well, but he was just so stiff, as if he was afraid that putting a single toe out of line would get him punished. “Is General Skywalker very strict?”, you asked after a while. Partly to break the silence, but partly because that would explain his constant apologizing. For a millisecond the Captain stopped before he continued on his way. “He’s not. He is a good man, a bit reckless at times, but we are lucky to serve under him.” That statement only confirmed your suspicions. The General had not seemed strict, but rather kind, but what other explanation was there for the Captain’s behavior? Though maybe it was just in his character to be safe rather than sorry. “Where are you from, Captain?” From the corner of your eye you could see him raise an eyebrow. “Kamino. It is a small village in the North.” At first it seemed as if he wanted to add something, but he stayed silent and just kept walking. By now you were close to the entry hall again. “Do you have family?” As you walked through the entry way, which had better lighting, you could see more of his face. He was smiling, just a little bit, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that almost made you reach out to touch his arm. You had already lifted your hand when you realized that that would make the already inappropriate situation even worse. “I have three brothers. Fives, Echo and Kix.” The first name sounded familiar and made you remember the other guard you had seen yesterday. “Fives is a guard as well, isn’t he?” The Captain nodded. He finally stopped in front of a door you almost didn’t see, it was half hidden behind a statue and painted the same color as the wall. He opened it and let you pass through first. You found yourself on top of a dark staircase, only a torch on the wall gave a bit of light. It was colder than in the main house, which made you wrap your robe tighter, and everything was stone, no carpets covering any of the surfaces. The Captain grabbed the torch and asked you to go on down the stairs. “He is. Echo as well. Kix is studying to become a doctor, though, like our father.” His voice got more and more quiet with every word, letting you know his father was dead without ever saying the words. “You must be proud of him. A cousin of mine studied medicine and told me how difficult it was.” Since the blond was now behind you you couldn’t see his face, but you could swear you heard a smile in his voice. “I am proud of all my brothers.” Before you knew it you had reached the bottom of the stairs and a moment later the Captain was beside you again. “Almost there”, he told you, to which your stomach responded with an embarrassingly loud growl. The closer you got to the kitchen the stronger the smell of fresh bread and warm tea got. Finally you stopped in front to the opened door to the largest kitchen you had ever seen. The room could probably fit a dozen cooks and three time as many kitchen maids, but right now there was only one present. A girl with her back to you stood in front of the last gleams of the oven fire and cut some fruits or vegetables. “Ahsoka”, the Captain said. The girl turned around. You could now see that she was pretty as well and started wondering whether everyone who lived and worked in this house was good looking. “Rex and, oh my! You’re the new Duchess!”, she exclaimed and fell into a deep curtsy. The look the Captain shot her had you imagining him with his brothers or disciplining guards. “You were not out front when I arrived”, you told the girl. Ahsoka shook her head before letting it hang low. “You know how they say children should be seen and not heard? Turns out a kitchen maid should not even be seen. I mean, I understand that I’m not much to look at in this dirty dress and ugly apron, but it’s not my fault I only get old hand-me-downs from the other maids. I still think I should get to see my new employee, since Duchesses usually don’t visit the kitchen”, she said with a sly smile. Next to you you felt the Captain stiffen, making you realize just how close you were standing to him. Though you blamed it on the cold, you had probably instinctively gotten closer to share body heat. “Ahsoka, you shouldn’t s-” “It’s fine, she’s right”, you interrupted the Captain before he could scold the girl without reason. You stepped closer to her, farther from the man next to you. “I was actually hoping to get a snack. I missed dinner, you see.” Her eyes lit up. “You want me to make you something to eat? No one ever wants me to make them something to eat.” You weren’t sure if her words meant you should rethink your decision, but she was so eager you couldn’t help but nod. “Why don’t you go over to the servants hall and I’ll bring you some food in a minute. And tea as well?” You nodded once again, but before you could finish the motion Ahsoka was already preparing a plate. You felt the Captain’s hand on your arm, making you turn and face him. He was closer than ever before, so close you could feel his breath on your face. Slowly you closed your eyes, just for a short moment, before opening them again and looking right into his. “Let’s sit down, Ahsoka will have your food ready soon.” Without another word he lead you by the elbow, out of the kitchen and into a room just across the hall. This room was darker and colder than the kitchen, no fire was burning and the space seemed sad and deserted. “Usually it’s full of life, but everyone else is asleep. Thanks to you not showing up to dinner there was a lot less work”, the Captain explained. His tone was far more casual than a few minutes earlier, he seemed more relaxed. Ahsoka entered the room before you could say anything, carrying a tablet with a steaming pot of tea, cups and a plate. “I’m afraid the food is not the dinner you’re used to, my lady. This late there is often not much left”, she said as she sat the plate filled with bread, cheese and fruit in front of you. Your eyes grew wider as you saw a couple of big, juicy strawberries and as if to tell you to eat them already your stomach growled once again. With a sly smile, hoping the others had not heard how desperate you were for food, you bit into the biggest strawberry. A loud moan escaped you and your face instantly blushed to match the fruit. If a growling stomach was something no one should hear, this sound was indefinitely worse. To your horror the Captain looked at you with wide eyes and even bit his lip, until he noticed you looking at him at least. Ahsoka, on the other hand, laughed. “Seems like you love strawberries as much as Rex here. I remember one time last summer he came rushing into the kitchen because he could apparently smell the strawberry marmalade we were making all the way from the stables. You should have seen the look on his face, it was-”, suddenly she interrupted mid sentence. She looked from Rex to you and back again, while you tried your best not to look at the Captain as well. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, my lady.” She cast her eyes down as she started pouring a cup of tea, focused on the dark liquid in front of her. It took you a moment to realize what she had just apologized for. Having been raised in a much smaller and poorer house as a lord’s daughter, not a duchess, you were used to talking with the servants, being friendly, even if you weren’t exactly friends. “Please stop with the constant apologies, both of you. I’m glad to know more about the Captain and loving strawberries is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I am much worse than the Captain. When I was little I once escaped from my governess to go to a nearby strawberry field. I picked and ate strawberries for what felt like hours, until I fell asleep. By the time my father found me my white dress was stained pink and I later got sick because I ate so much. After that I wasn’t allowed any strawberries for a month.” A smile grew on your face from the fond memory. It had been a good time, before the talk of balls and husbands had started. The little story had lightened the mood, because Ahsoka went on to tell about that one time she had climbed a tree to get the biggest apple and then fallen, resulting in her breaking her leg. Even the Captain jumped in and told you about his first time falling off a horse. You liked to know these little things about your servants, it made them more like people and less like employees. And you really enjoyed how Ahsoka’s voice changed throughout the story, it got louder and quieter, faster and slower, making you really feel what she must have felt in that moment. But the Captain was a whole other story. It wasn’t as much his voice that changed as his face. There was a light in his eyes and the corners of his lips, which you tried not to look at, lifted whenever he talked about his brothers. His chuckles made your insides turn warm and when his eyes landed on you you felt as if you were on fire. Though you didn’t know why he had that effect on you, you knew it was thrilling and comforting and dangerous, but mostly you knew you should ignore all of that, because it went beyond anything you should feel for the Captain of your husband’s guard. Ahsoka was in the middle of telling a story about General Skywalker when low bells interrupted her. “Shit, is it midnight already?”, she exclaimed. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the Captain open his mouth, probably to scold the girl for her language, but before he could say anything you stood up. “I should go. And you should get to bed, Ahsoka”, you said. The girl nodded. She drowned the last of her tea, which must have been cold by now, and reached for the empty plate. “I’ll clean this up and then I’ll go”, she told you. For a moment she halted in her movement and looked at you. “It was very nice meeting you, your Grace.” There it was, the reminder that you had not just made friends, but were talking to your servants. No matter how good you thought you got along, you would never know whether they enjoyed your company or were just pretending in order to keep their jobs. And in that moment you wanted nothing more than to tell Ahsoka, tell the Captain, to call you (Y/N) and to let them know how much you had enjoyed the evening with them, but you knew you never could. “Let me walk you back to your room, my lady”, the Captain said. You just nodded, suddenly more tired then you were moments before. “Good night, Ahsoka”, you said with a smile you hoped was kind rather than sad. The two of you walked in silence. Though the way back was shorter, since you didn’t make any detours or got lost, it seemed to last an eternity. Finally you reached the top of the stairs and turned down a familiar hallway. “I had a good time tonight”, you said as you were nearing your door. It wasn’t until you actually stopped in front of said door that the Captain answered. “Me too.” He paused to look at you. You felt his eyes wander from your disheveled hair to your eyes, your nose, your reddening cheeks and finally your lips. A strange tingling in your stomach caught your attention, but you decided to analyse that later. For now you were quiet happy standing in a dark hallway close to a handsome and kind man whose breath you could feel on your face. It smelled of the strawberries you had offered him earlier. “You know it can never happen again, don’t you?” You closed your eyes at his words. Though there was a new familiarity in the tone, and he hasn’t even used your title, they felt colder than anything he had said that night. Like a goodbye. “I know it’s... I know it’s not exactly proper... But it’s not really improper either, is it? It’s not like we were alone, we had Ahsoka with us.” As soon as the words left your mouth you realized that in that moment you were alone. Alone in a dark hallway and closer than you should be to any man who is not your husband. You could feel the Captain taking a slow, deep breath. His hand brushed yours, whether accidentally or on purpose you couldn’t tell, and his eyes fluttered close for a moment. The tingling intensified and you braced yourself for what was to come, though you weren’t sure what exactly that was. But then he took a step back. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” There was a new emotion in his eyes, one you couldn’t read but were convinced you never wanted to see again. “I’m sorry, I... I suppose... I guess I still need to adjust to all of this.” You lifted your hands and pointed down the corridor. “And you...” You decided it was probably better to end your sentence there, you didn’t even know what you wanted to say, so instead you reached out your hand to open the door. You stepped inside your sitting room, still facing the man in front of you. “Goodnight, Captain”, you said with a smile. He mirrored your smile, though it looked somehow sad on his face. When he didn’t say anything for a few seconds you started closing the door and it wasn’t until it was almost shut all the way that you heard him softly saying “Goodnight, (Y/N).” With a sigh you leaned against the now closed door. “Goodnight, Rex”, you whispered into the cold, dark, empty room.

-------

Next Part

The idea for a Rex Regency Au just popped into my head and I had so much fun writing this. More parts will definitely follow, I already have a rough idea of how I want everything to work out. Though I’m currently writing another Rex fanfiction and a second part for my Poe Dameron fanfiction as well, so I’m not sure how fast I’ll be...

#captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #rex x reader #rex x you #rex x y/n #rex imagine #star wars self insert #star wars imagine #clone wars imagine #clone wars self insert #star wars the clone wars #clone wars au #captain rex au #rex au #regency au

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leviiattacks · 4 years ago

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Two Faced | Chapter Eight

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4.8k author note :: i’ve been very ill so yeah, not the best writing but i really can’t go that long without wanting to write so i ended up writing an update, i hope you enjoy it, it’s longer than usual :D sorry for any mistakes it hasn’t been proof read at all :-( → next part coming soon!!

“Hey, newbie you haven't spoke about your home town much have ya?"

You lift your head, verifying Reiner's suspicions with a nod. You recall he's the same distasteful blonde brute who made those snide remarks about Hange. He must be at least a towering six foot if his shadow is able to cover the majority of the Sun's rays from hitting you.

You would maybe bother to give him and his inquiry more attention than you currently are if he hadn't been so unnecessarily impolite during the morning speeches.

Calves yelping in stinging pain from the first tastes of the full time training regime you simply cannot find the effort to strain your mind with small talk.

Temples throbbing it feels as if a sword has been forced through the side of your head, but that's not it at all. Reiner has thrown a small rock at you and you hear him chuckle under his breath.

Twisting your position so you face him you glare in displeasure.

Although you don't particularly enjoy the idea of joining Levi's unit and having to become a concealed agent of sorts you can't really take your pickings at how it is you wish to survive. You're going to have to deal with it and you've come to the stage of acceptance now.

However, you are not willing to respect the attitude some of these cadets are giving you, it's clear there's already a strong hierarchy in place.

Reiner just so happens to be one of the big guns from what you've been able to observe. He possess strong upper body strength and his hand to hand combat isn't a laughing matter either. That means he's higher up in the ladder of cadets, that's for sure. To top it all off you know you're not as powerful as other members in the team in terms of skill and he's probably silently making a mockery of you for it.

Pursing your lips you decide to play this game cautiously, asking him what it is he needs from you isn't the best option. You're aware he's after something, it's written all over his face. You practically know every deceptive look in the book off by heart. You suppose it's the only perk you got out of living in a noble household for most of your life.

"Why do you care?" You bluntly question him.

"Ohh, you're feisty. Might not want to butt heads with Annie."

"Not sure who that is but I don't plan on it."

Turning away from him it look like you're distracting yourself by collecting pieces of firewood. Trailing around you act as uncaring as possible to annoy him. You need to gauge this man's reaction somehow.

Your plan seems to be working in your favour because you're able to see his footing shift from his natural stance, it looks as if he's about to risk charging at you due to your vulnerable position but you rotate again offering him a knowing smile.

You don't tell him you're conscious of his suspicious nature but if he's quick witted enough he'll be able to figure out you aren't a threat and apparently don't have a clue what it is he's up to. The only reason he'd even consider attacking you would be if he saw you as an issue. For now your act should at least keep him at bay.

"Fine. I'll tell you about my hometown, I'm just..." You pause to make yourself look believable and proceed to look up at him through your lashes, you dart your gaze away and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck exuding coyness.

"I'm incredibly homesick. I miss mother. I always made supper for her, now I can only pray she's not eating burnt chicken." Your act has to be working because his eyes soften and he takes half of the firewood in your arms offering to help you carry it.

"My mum's a great cook, can't relate squirt."

"Who you calling squirt?" You playfully snap back.

"I call everybody that, even Captain Levi... Well, when he isn't around to hear it."

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Levi's name.

“So you and the Captain? What’s that all about?” His question makes no sense at all, one minute he wants to prod and poke in your personal home life yet the next minute he's asking questions about Levi. The doubts you have surrounding him only thicken.

You take a moment to consider his question,

“Whatever do you mean?” Clueless, you're delivery is excellent. Acting naive is easy enough, everyone within the corps has already decided that's what your automatic disposition is.

Reiner gives you a skeptical look then smiles faintly, “Glaring daggers at Jean after he got handsy with you?”

You cover your mouth with your free hand and laugh so hard the firewood nearly flies out of your grasp.

“Me and Jean are friends, and Levi? He just wanted to find a reason to get mad at us probably.” You hope the explanation suffices because you truly have no idea why Levi had done what he did.

Reiner hums in approval at your answer but he then grins.

“You on first name basis with the Captain?”

Fuck, you called him Levi.

Play it cool.

“Huh? When have I ever said his first name?” Clueless. Your delivery is still perfect.

“Just now.” He fires back, Reiner doesn't seem to be letting up but he doesn't know how smooth of a liar you are.

Living with your father for all those years conditioned you in ways you hadn't even noticed until quite recently.

“Did I? Pardon, I didn’t mean for it to slip out. Sometimes I silently curse him out in my head and forget to add his title.”

Your acting is impeccable, Reiner has no reason to doubt you. As you expect he doesn't instead he shifts the conversation to his hometown, just like you he doesn't explicitly mention a name. Reiner is sharp but he hasn't noticed the way you've left a name out just like him. He's terrible at catching out his own kind.

You decide at that moment that Reiner Braun is a liar. The accusation is more of a hunch meaning more investigation is required.

You won't inform any of the higher ups about it just yet.

The walk back to base is filled with excruciatingly troublesome small talk and you make a mental note to take Mikasa along with you next time it's your turn retrieve the firewood.

You can't afford any more close encounters with Braun or any of his possible accomplices.

Sniggers batter your ears as soon as you step foot onto the grounds, you have a sixth sense when it comes to spiteful bad-mouthing and after the abysmal day you've had you anticipate there will be unpleasant commentary.

"Seen the way Y/N ruined the assault course today?"

"We're the finalized cadets across all the regions of Paradis. That means we have to rely on that embarrassment to fight titans."

"Good Lord, someone have mercy on our souls."

Fellow cadets press on in their criticism thinking you aren't within earshot. That, or they purposefully aim for you to pay attention to the disapproval they have of your presence.

But, you do understand where they're coming from. You make another mental note - practice a bit more later today.

The gossiping isn't anything you're unfamiliar with, your father's palace never offered kindness to you or your existence. In fact it's rather comforting being talked badly about behind your back.

That statement sounds absurd but you can't explain it. Maybe it's due to Levi typically hurling his unnecessary remarks right at you without warning. Then again he does provide everyone with that treatment, even Commander Erwin.

As you hurry away increasing the distance between you and your loud mouthed team members you spot Levi from the corner of your eye. He's in conversation with Hange but you notice how his jaw is clenched in frustration, you feel a pinch over your skin when he spares you a fleeting look. Eyes acquainting yours. Paying no attention to him you walk away as fast as you can.

The cadets only blow up in volume now, they definitely want you to hear what they have to say.

"Maybe we should ask the higher ups to throw her ou-"

"Questioning authority? Pesky mutineers aren't you?" Levi's booming voice shakes anyone within a five metre vicinity, he comes out of nowhere and seems nothing short of furious.

"You're all," He continues, voice rising, "Incredibly spineless aren't you?"

One of the cadets embellishes their face with a scowl, it doesn't go unnoticed by Levi but he astonishingly doesn't lash out, physically at least. His deathly glare is more than enough to finish the job.

Stupidly you suffer feeling your heart palpitate in your chest watching him talk to the group of three. Stupidly, you're getting your hopes up again.

He scoffs coldly, "If you're all talk why not offer to duel her?"

It doesn't take long for your heart to stop throbbing with its previous intensity. You know it was too good to be true. Levi suddenly defending you that is.

The gesture isn't done to protect or shield you. No, you're sure this man loathes you and is intending to persist on making your life as bleak and dreary as possible.

"Up to a battle Y/N?" The unnamed blonde cadet's scoffs in derision and you find yourself wanting to punch her square in the jaw.

Irritation sears through you but you meekly shake your head mumbling a weak "No thanks.", you're much too afraid to duel anyone just yet and you don't remember her from the training sessions. She must have been in a corner keeping to herself.

With all that being said and done you pathetically withdraw, and just like the past few days you sense Levi's piercing gaze erupting into your soul.

The blistering Sun hits every nook and cranny of the training ground. Waking up early already has you wanting to pass out and the heat isn't any help.

The crowd of cadets mumble in fatigue but observant Mikasa jabs you in the shoulder pointing out how far away Jean has stood from you.

You feel guilty that Jean had to suffer through the humiliation tossed at him yesterday but you are grateful to not deal with his constant questioning and talkative self this early in the morning.

All the way at the other side of the throng of soldiers he stands with Bert, who might you add is a mammoth of a man.

Through some digging (more like asking Mikasa) you've discovered he's close with Reiner and the blonde cadet from yesterday's confrontation, turns out she's the Annie that Reiner warned you off.

"ATTENTION!" Hange sing songs at the front of the training ground. They're jumping around along with Squad Leader Mike checking if everyone's in the correct uniform - Apparently the year prior a cadet showed up wearing a thick cardigan and fainted from heat stroke...

“Today’s exercise is a time to redeem yourself!” Hange’s eyes dart towards you and you smile at one another.

“A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

Everyone murmurs looking at each other in pure confusion.

“A fight up against another person. Whoever wins their individual fights will receive extra special privileges." The explanation seems simple enough and you’re confident that if you’re put up against the right people you can make it out safe.

The promise of a reward is also enticing.

The 104th Training Corps are thrilled, there’s nothing too hazardous about the task and it’s nothing difficult to ask for. Even you’re looking forward to it. The chance to rescue your reputation has you pumped up with adrenaline.

“My, my my. Don’t excite yourselves just yet little hens, there’s a pretty little catch.” Hange's voice is laced in mischief. This can't be any good.

Everyone stops breathing in unison and it’s pin drop silent.

“You must cause harm to your opponent in some way. Whether it be making them faint, breaking an arm, breaking a leg. There are no rules when it comes to playing dirty!”

With a playful shrug of their shoulder Hange hops off the podium.

Squad Leader Mike pulls out the list of competitors. He’s decided the line-up on his own and begins the announcement with Bertholdt.

“BERTHOLDT HOOVER..."

Bert turns to look back at Reiner hesitantly and for such a giant it’s adorable how worried he is when everyone else is perturbed thinking about the poor individual who has to go up against him.

"AGAINST Y/N L/N!"

The crowd falls silent and your mouth is wide, this is unjust there’s no way this is allowed.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s kinda unfair?” Krista speaks out for you even though Ymir is by her side trying to talk her out of getting involved.

“She stands no chance against him.” Reiner is supporting your cause too.

Mikasa takes a step forward. “I agree, it’s not right, may I take her place instead?”

“No, no! It’s alright, I’ll go for it.”

Honestly you don’t want the corps to see you as a coward. Bravery and courage is what brought everyone here. Your story is different. You’re here to selfishly save your own life, you aren’t anywhere near as valiant as the rest of them. The very least you can do is partake in activities correctly.

Stepping up to the podium you stand by Bertholdt he gives you a pitiful look whilst he mutters an apology.

Mike continues announcing the names. A few include Jean against Mikasa (Jean may as well forfeit), Marco against Annie and Connie against Reiner - that pairing eases you. At least you aren't in this alone. You and Connie stand no chance against those beasts.

Everyone lines up in their separate areas and again Bertholdt is profusely apologizing asking if you want to fake faint or anything of the sort. You shake your head and promise to give it all you've got.

And then the games begin at the sound of the bell, and damn that Bertholdt because he isn't keeping to his end of the bargain. He lunges forward viciously aiming to crush your entire body but you swiftly dodge, he tries the same approach but when you duck out of the way again he stops knowing he needs to rethinks his strategy.

"Just give it up I'll win either way."

Well, the Mister nice guy act was definitely a believable performance. He was so convincing you even contemplated feigning unconsciousness when he proposed the idea to you.

Bertholdt is much slower than you giving you more time to deliberate your incoming moves. If you can get him to edge close enough to a nearby tree and deceive him into colliding with the oak trunk you should win - only on the condition that he passes out.

The scheme is far-fetched but it's your only hope.

Dashing from various corners he flies after you, each time unable to catch up to you.

That is until you stumble and lurch to the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you panic when a large hand clutches at your ankle. Your solution? Booting him right in the teeth.

However with an earth-shattering amount of force Hoover's hold on your ankle doesn't weaken. Instead he tightens his hold like a vice. You feel it bruise and the violet discoloration that'll be present in a few hours makes you wince.

Entire body going limp on command, you stop yourself from breathing - another talent you picked up back at the palace to avoid extra beatings.

When you no longer thrash around Bertholdt stalks in to check in on you and as expected he’s now towering over you, blood overflowing in terror.

"SQUAD LEADER HANGE, CAPTAIN LEVI SHE'S NOT MOVING!" He's roaring for their help frantic and anxious. If he's caused any permanent damage he's as good as dead meat.

"Oh my Lord. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Bertholdt's voice is fractured in unadulterated horror and judging by the direction you hear it at he has to be facing away from you.

Unbolting your eyes you learn your assumption is correct and despite hurried footsteps being within audible range you take your chance by the reigns.

Leaping to your feet and with no forewarning you swing your leg to the back of his neck. Stunned by the surprise attack he falls to his knees and you situate yourself in front of the oak tree you've been eyeing from the time the exercise began.

"You cunning bitch." Staggering back up he makes a swift rebound. At this point all mercy has left him and his one true aim is to completely pulverize you.

Everything is falling into place. All you need to do is wait for the right moment and finally you come across it when he suddenly pounces for you. Darting to the left you leave the space open for your prey.

Poor Bertholdt falls right into the palm of your hands like a rag doll. His momentum can't be controlled and he smashes headfirst into the trunk with a loud crunch sounding out. Bark splits and scrapes off the tree upon impact.

His head has to throb and you don't want to imagine how painful it is to feel the rivulets of soreness.

He doesn't get up and only groans, you feel half bad but after the tricks and antics he pulled you come to the conclusion that it's all deserved.

"Well, Y/N, you've proven yourself to be quite quick witted." Hange's praise is strange to hear but you beam proud that you've proven your worth.

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself." Levi orders. "It could have been pure luck."

In spite of Levi's pessimism you bask in the glory of your win.

A week into joining Levi's unit you're becoming more accustomed to the new environment, in fact the gossiping and horrible rumours stop completely after your win and interactions with your fellow comrades feel easier and lighter.

You think the taunts will have only got more relentless after the duel fiasco but you suppose Annie chose to be considerate and take pity on you.

"Your progress has been remarkable so far." You jump when you hear Jean's deep voice appear right next to you.

Looking around to see if any other cadets are around you finally release a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"Ah. Thank you." You murmur quietly.

"I know it's been a week since I was scolded by the Captain but this won't count as flirting will it?"

Impeding the one sided conversation you're reflecting, you're not sure what exactly about. Probably whether or not you should maintain the discussion - if it can even be referred to as such.

Forget it. You know what they say, you only live once.

Flicking his forehead you roll your eyes, "We were never flirting he's just an over dramatic, bitter hag. I put my money on the fact he's never felt the touch of a woman before."

Jean's eyes widen in disbelief, you half expect he'll split open in tremendous laughter but he looks terrified. Then you become conscious of the fact he's not even staring at you, his eyes are engrossed by whatever is behind you.

Unfortunately for you your body tells you all you need to know. His cologne floods into your nostrils, you can't even reassure yourself and pretend it's anyone else, you know he's the only one who smells that strongly of fresh linen.

Being unable to see him doesn't stop you from imagining his dark lifeless eyes accompanying themselves with what is before them.

It doesn't even take Jean a minute to abandon you, he breaks out into an awkward smile, hurriedly pats your shoulder before dashing away, dispersing all the way to the other end of the hallway in a matter of seconds and turning the corner away from you.

Heart rate soaring you hesitantly spin on your heel. Levi's stood there, looking beyond unimpressed.

You intend to breeze past him, cool and collected. You take a step forward but God has never been one to bless you with luck, stumbling and tripping over thin air lands you flying.

Ready for impact you brace yourself but it never comes, instead solid hands are firmly placed at the small of your back steadying your position and your palms have unceremoniously landed atop his torso.

"Play along." Levi's voice is low and rumbling, and you can't look him in the eyes. Not out of fear or dread, more so exhaustion but you muster the energy to look to your left. There Erwin and Hange stand giggling to themselves like children. As quick as you spot them they vanish in the same fashion. It's as if they were never there.

You're worn out and fatigued wanting nothing more than a good night's rest. If there's one thing you haven't grown used to it's the lack of sleep.

"Let go." Moving to shift his hands away from your waist you halt your movements when he without warning lets go of you, not even giving you the opportunity to renovate your balance.

Flying to the ground and landing with a thud you rub your backside at the blow.

Mirthlessly chuckling the lack of amusement is clear in the way he composes himself.

Making a dash for it sounds tempting but you may as well let him have his way. There's no action you can take to avoid him reprimanding you. It's your fault for having the gall to make that crude and foul-mouthed comment in the first place.

You gulp comprehending the situation is even worse now since you really only said it for the sole reason of Kirstein's amusement.

"Y/N, I'd like to have a word with you."

Hesitantly you look up at Levi, he has an indecipherable expression on his face, it's been a while since you've last been left in his company alone.

The two of you are stood in his office, his desk is flooded with papers, they're haphazardly scattered all over the place and spikes of worry weirdly make them self present in your belly. This isn't right. He'd never leave his work space in this state.

"Are you okay?" You ask it because you’re sure he isn't.

His shoulders and spine stiffen. "Cut the crap and keep the formalities to yourself." He chides, most definitely defensive in his stance.

Without asking him you shuffle to his desk stacking the papers into organised piles, most of the documents are related to an up and coming expedition and it's all beginning to add up. Even humanities strongest soldier has moments where he cracks.

Then you notice your name on the formation plan but before you're able to make anything out of it Levi snatches it off his desk and away from you stuffing it into his pocket.

Without another sound he observes you cleaning the rest of the mess away but doesn't ask for you to stop. There's no reason for him to.

If you do this maybe he'll go easier on you, yeah that's what your motivation is. That's not exactly the truth, really you're just concerned about whatever has him worked up.

Placing the last document in its rightful place you want to give your mind a moment to recollect itself but Levi doesn't think the same.

He places his arms on either side of the desk, trapping you with no way out. Oddly, there's nothing threatening about him looking down at you this time, the greys and blues of his iris' captivate you.

"Do you enjoy making a mockery of your husband?" The question is whispered. It's unanticipated and the title of husband is uncharacteristic coming out of his mouth.

"It was just a joke." You mumble your answer under your breath.

"Would you have spouted that shit in front of the rest of the unit?"

Mildly shaking your head he then sighs. He’s not angry, he genuinely seems let down.

"Do you prefer him over me?” You swear you hear the faintest hint of self-doubt.

His questions are getting more out of the ordinary by the second and you’re waiting for him to crack a malevolent grin before he ridicules you like he always does.

“Of course I don’t prefer him over you.”

“Prove it.”

Tilting your head up towards him you have no idea what he wants for you to do or say, why does this suddenly even matter to him?

And then you imagine it happen, him digging his hands into your shoulders. Your weight along with his shifting up against the desk making it creak. Your mind details how he would kiss you agitatedly and you flush thinking about how you would feverishly return the favour.

It seems like your imagination predicts the future. He grips your jaw with his hand, his touch isn’t firm and for once it’s quite soft. Relishing in the new experience as he leans in you secure your eyes shut in expectation.

Stroking your cheek with his thumb the warm sensation that courses through your body is rather pleasant. His hands come out to run against your body, pinching the sides of your waist. The motion makes your heart stall for a second. Involuntarily, you find yourself leaning into him.

“This seem like a man who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman before?”

And just like that he leaves you hanging. You flutter your eyes open and there he is. He’s back, the same cynical man, smirk etched onto his features, his body still parallel to yours.

You find yourself enraged at how he's just lead and dragged you on, you should have stuck with your gut feeling and not given into temptation but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. It's very obvious who the cat is in this situation.

Brows furrowing you can’t face him ever again after the scalding embarrassment inhabits your abdomen.

"Going to cry, Cadet?" He's pushing all your buttons, eagerly choosing to provoke you.

The frustration you’ve been feeling fills you to the brim and you clamp down on your bottom lip. If you must turn to inflicting harm onto yourself just to muffle the sound of your whimpers you will.

“Did you need to do that?” You choke out your response feeling helpless, still not looking at him.

“Simply gave you a taste of your own medicine.”

Silence.

"Sometimes I wish you killed me back then."

Silver eyes become dark and he visibly flinches at your confession.

Still boxed in-between his arms you attempt to push past but he continues to obstruct the exit. He's not done yet.

"I gave you another chance at life." His blunt one-sided view is about to drive you crazy.

"Within my first day at this unit I had to avoid being attacked by another cadet in the forest if you call that a life I do-"

“Who?”

“Not important."

“If you know what's good for you, you'll spit it out."

For the sole purpose of irking him you heavily shake your head to emphasise your refusal to give in and name the culprit. It's not like you want Reiner to fall into trouble because of you. He hasn't shown any suspicious or out of the ordinary behaviour since then and you worry what Levi is capable of doing when given a reason to hurt someone.

Glancing at him dismissively you try to make your point again. "They haven't done anything since. Therefore, it's of no importance."

Conflicted emotions scurry over his face as he looks at you.

"It's of importance if my wif-" He growls and stops midway. His hands grip onto the desk even harder, knuckles turning white.

Was he about to say, wife?

Levi immediately realizes what he's nearly just said sounds exceedingly questionable. A look of uncertainty flashes over his face and then it seems he loses all regard for self-control. His willpower isn't enough to get him through this situation and he only amplifies.

Encroaching further into the very little space amongst the both of you his tone is icy. "Tell me." He's glowering and for Reiner's wellbeing you decide you should just come out with it now. He'll be in an even more difficult spot if you don't.

"Reiner, it was Reiner." You gasp out the answer, shallow breath ragged. Head turning away to the side you're not particularly sure why you're so shaky and why you feel a tremor flood past you inundating your movement. It may all be a combination of how close he's standing to you and how intoxicatingly strong his aura is.

Or, perhaps it's due to how he nearly referred to you as his wife during his primal outburst of anger.

He turns away. Automatically creating yet another blockade between the two of you.

"You're dismissed."

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #duke levi #levi smut #levi angst #levi fluff #levi fanfiction #leviiattacks

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crispyjenkins · 4 years ago

Note

A third part to the JangObi locked in a cell/ weapons courting if there isn’t one yet. Jango or Boba calling Obi Mandokar. At least I think that’s the word. A Mando’s wet dream basically.

(this one entirely got away from me and i didn't get to Boba actually using the word Mandokar, but both Obi-Wan and Satine know what he's getting at (ノ*゜▽゜*)

again, i do not hate Satine, but I also do not particularly like her! she's clearly got some stuff to work through here >.>

Thank you as always, Roxy!)

When Jango had told Boba that he'd finally get to see the inside of the Senate Rotunda (legally, this time), Boba hadn't been particularly thrilled. Why should he care about the politics of a Republic neither he nor his buir are a part of?

Well, Obi-Wan is a part of it, but he also clearly doesn't want to be.

To put it shortly, Boba hadn't had high expectations for his afternoon, especially since it was preceded by Obi-Wan taking him to Dex's and letting Kote teach him how to use two vibroblades at once. Why couldn't they have just waited by the Slave I for Jango to finish his politicking?

He supposes Obi-Wan makes it bearable, taking him on a tour and telling him facts about the building itself, as well as stories from the Sacking of Coruscant, but Boba's good will ends rather abruptly when they run into Kryze and Padmé in one of the main corridors.

Tense pleasantries are quickly exchanged, and Boba realises they haven't seen Kryze since Jango had helped Obi-Wan save her from Darth Maul; Boba still isn't sure of the details of what happened after, but his buir had been furious.

When it takes all of two minutes for Kryze to mockingly call Obi-Wan General Kenobi, Boba shares the kriffing sentiment.

Obi-Wan heaves a sigh, and Padmé looks wildly uncomfortable. "My lady, I do not know what you hope to achieve by reiterating your position on the Order’s involvement in the War; I am but one Jedi."

"A Jedi on the High Council. You are just as implicit in its continuation as the rest," Kryze retorts, and Boba may be thirteen and a little out of his depth with the Politician Speak, but he knows this isn't about the Jedi, or the War. "Do not think you can absolve yourself from fault."

Boba looks up at Obi-Wan, eager for his witty retort, but he just looks tired, and Boba has to remind himself that Obi-Wan had loved her, once.

Padmé smiles apologetically, trying to pull Kryze's focus. "The decisions of the High Council are not made by Obi-Wan alone," she says, even though they all know that isn't really the issue.

"You’re right," Kryze agrees, not sounding like she agrees at all, "individual Jedi have absolutely no control over their political participation in needless violence." Boba grinds his teeth as she gives up trying to hide her scowl.

And Obi-Wan just stands there and takes it, like Boba hasn't seen him talk entire armies out of battle, or fight off both Savage and Maul at once. He hasn't seen Obi-Wan like this since Waxer's death on Cato Neimoidia.

Obi-Wan sighs again, trying to offer Boba a little smile. "Individuals always have a choice," he says, more to Boba than Kryze. "But preventing the death of millions outweighs our personal beliefs, don't you think?"

Boba nods firmly as Padmé shifts on her feet, but doesn't disagree; she's certainly seen more battle in this war than Kryze.

Kryze who scoffs to hide what must be genuine hurt. Anger is rarely about the thing you're angry with, Boba remembers Lama Su trying to teach him, and he reminds himself that Kryze had loved Obi-Wan once, too. That was the real problem, wasn't it?

"Back then, you avoided conflict whenever you could," she says, flat and a little sad, "you would always rather go around than force your way through. It saddens me, Obi-Wan, to see what's left of your honor."

"At least Obi-Wan hasn't murdered an entire half of his people!" Boba snarls, deciding he's quite done listening to this nonsense.

"Boba, it's alright," Obi-Wan says softly, but he's also keeping his left arm behind his back, keeping Jango's vambrace out of sight, and Boba is livid.

"'Gar taldin ni jaonyc,'" he says, because he knows the "Duchess" still understands Mando'a, even if she pretends she doesn't. Bloodline means nothing. "I don't care who your clan was, or what title you claim to have: until you are ready to die for your people, they are not yours."

Kryze stares down at him, and Boba can feel Obi-Wan prodding at his mind in question, in an attempt to calm, but Boba shoves him back out.

"It's easy to call Obi-Wan a murderer when you're hiding in your glass palace, when you wouldn't know the first thing about defending it. Do not speak of honor until you even know what that is."

There is a tense beat of silence before Kryze rounds a glare on Obi-Wan. "I would hope you could speak for yourself, if the Senate trusts a third of the Galactic Army in your hands."

"Satine," Padmé murmurs, glancing at the passing senators who aren't even trying to hide their stares.

Obi-Wan’s eyes are colder than Boba has ever seen them, the hand behind him clenched into a fist, and Kryze had known him very well at one point, Boba knows she can read between the lines of Obi-Wan’s blank expression.

"And I had hoped we had reached an understanding that there was nothing else for us to discuss, my lady. There are only so many times we can beat a dead bantha."

Kryze sniffs. "You need not show me so much disdain, Obi-Wan: we are not sixteen and foolish anymore." Padmé tries to cut in, but Kryze waves for her silence. "But I agree, I do not think any new peace can be reached here, and you should be getting the child back to his progenitor, no?"

"Jealous hag," Boba chirps, rocking on the balls of his feet and wondering if she had had dreams of having kids with Obi-Wan. "You didn't deserve Obi-Wan back then, and you certainly don't deserve him now. At the very least, he can separate his feelings from his politics."

"Boba, please," Obi-Wan sighs, setting a gentle hand on the back of his neck, and Boba gets to watch with a vicious glee the exact moment Kryze sees Jango's vambrace, the only piece of armor Obi-Wan wears, and realises he is far past fraternising with her enemy.

Padmé puts a hand on Kryze’s arm and gently starts to lead her away. "We should return to the committee, Duchess. And I'm sure Master Kenobi has his own business to attend to."

"Of course," Kryze agrees icily, and actually returns Obi-Wan’s nod of farewell; she barely spares Boba a glance, though he smiles innocently up at her and mutters,

"Demagulka," just loud enough for her to hear.

Obi-Wan casts him a stern look, but luckily doesn't get the chance to scold him further, when Padmé quickly returns without Kryze and looks harried enough for all three of them.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," she says, hushed in the still rather busy hall, "You did not deserve that."

"That's quite alright, my dear," Obi-Wan is quick to say, and smiles at his friend. "I'm afraid I'm quite used to such treatment, though perhaps not so... publicly."

"I don't know if I've ever seen you in the Rotunda without the council, and I highly doubt you came all this way just to butt heads with the Duchess. What are you doing here?"

"Ah, that would be this one's fault," he says, Boba yelping as Obi-Wan sticks his hand into his curls and tousles them roughly. He only smiles down at him when Boba growls and grabs onto his arm, and though he knows Obi-Wan could easily lift him like this, the Jedi would never do so here.

"It was Boba, yes?" Padmé asks kindly, folding her hands in front of her. "What brings you to the Rotunda?'

"Buir said he was meeting someone," he scrunches up his face. "But we're leaving right after so Obi-Wan was watching me and brought me over to meet him."

Padmé’s smile only slips a little, looking back to Obi-Wan. "Fett's meeting someone?" she asks, even quieter, "Here?"

"It is perhaps not my place to speak of it, we are still in the very early stages," he says mysteriously, tugging Boba around to lean against his front, arms draped over Boba's shoulders as if trying to make up for Jango’s resistance to public displays of affection. Grumbling, Boba still lets himself be held there, and meets every stare from passing politicians with a glare. "When we get a little further along, I would very much like to speak with the Delegation of 2,000."

Bemused but not particularly surprised, Padmé shakes her head. "Of course, Obi-Wan. Are we to see you on Coruscant more often, then?"

Obi-Wan winces and holds Boba a little closer. "The 212th is coming off leave at the end of the tenday, I'm afraid. And of course Jango and Boba will be returning to Mandalorian space."

Padmé looks over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, smile becoming strained but not quite unfriendly. "Speak the name of the Dianoga," she sighs.

Boba wriggles to look behind them and immediately perks up. "Buir!"

Jango pauses on his path for the elevators, turning instead towards Boba's voice; the lines of his face soften at the sight of them, joining them after an encouraging finger-flick from Obi-Wan.

"Senator Amidala," he greets with a nod, and Boba thinks his buir actually likes Padmé, but won't admit it because Obi-Wan would never let him hear the end of it.

"Mr. Fett," she returns, shaking his hand firmly like any good Mando. "Although, if my suspicions about your presence here are correct, I will be adjusting my term of address in the near future?"

Letting Boba latch onto his side like a Corellian limpet, Jango raises a brow at Obi-Wan. "Haat'ade do not change their clan names at marriage," he says, Boba rolling his eyes at his buir's failed attempt at humor, and Obi-Wan rubs his eyes with one hand.

"Jango," he sighs, Padmé looking like Lifeday came early.

"Obi-Wan, you hadn't told me the Council had approved your request," she plays along, "When can I expect an invitation?"

"After I'm done with him, never."

"Now, cyar’ika," Jango chides, "it's best not to publicly threaten your–"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll have Anakin steal the Slave I," Obi-Wan says it into his hand, but Boba can see the edges of a smile. "Padmé, please don't encourage him, he'll be insufferable after this."

Padmé casts a quick wink down to Boba. "You best tell Anakin next, if he's the last to know, he'll be whining for weeks."

Jango brushes his fingers over Obi-Wan’s back like a sap, and his smile is even worse. Maker, Boba loves the both of them, but no one should look as smitten as his buir does any time Obi-Wan threatens him. "I don't know how we're going to fit your entire family on Concord Dawn, or all the kids."

"You mean the vode? Buir, I think Obi has more people on the Negotiator than have ever even lived on Concord Dawn."

"Why in Corellian Hells would I agree to have it on Concord Dawn?" Obi-Wan wants to know. "Maker, but this entire conversation is ridiculous."

Padmé tilts her head with a small hum, expression entirely too innocent. "Didn't you agree to marry Anakin on Tatooine for the one mission with the three-lekku Twi'lek and their five footed goa–"

"Yes, THANK YOU, my dear, that's quite enough of that."

Jango looks put-out, just short of an actual pout, and Boba wriggles against him in embarrassment. "You didn't tell me about that mission," Jango says, feigning hurt.

Obi-Wan side-eyes him, and only gets a smile for his trouble. "You know," Obi-Wan starts casually, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that has only ever meant great deals of fun for Boba, "by Stewjoni rites, we're already married."

Jango chokes on nothing, and Boba wonders if he'd even known where Obi-Wan was from. He should probably tell his buir he's already met Obi-Wan's grandparents.

Mando’a: buir — “parent”, gender neutral Demagulka — (from mandoa.org) “someone who commits atrocties, a real-life monster, a war criminal - from the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, and a figure of hate and dread in the Mando psyche” Haat’ade — slang for Haat Mando’ade, lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians cyar’ika — “darling”, “sweetheart”

*“Gar taldin ni jaonyc” from the full phrase “Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la,” lit. “Bloodline is not important, but you as a [parent] [is] the most valuable thing”, used in the context of not judging someone by their lineage (blood or not) but by their own actions as a parent. I’ve used it here as Boba both calling Satine “dar’manda” and calling out her hypocrisy in criticising Obi-Wan/the Jedi from her ivory tower when she is a Kalevalen imperialist ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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tracybirds · 4 years ago

Text

tidying is good for the soul

I just really really didn’t want to tidy my own room.... I forced Gordon to do it in my stead :)

Some angsty Pen&Ink decided to show their faces in the middle for ReasonsTM and I ran with it. I wish I could say the mess I’m avoiding is worse than Gordon’s... it is not.

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

The smell hit Scott first as he walked past, musty air filled with sweat, rotting food and something else he didn’t want to identify. The stale oxygen forced its way into his lungs as he peered into the room.

Breathing through his mouth only ensured he could taste the rich, ripe aroma. He bit back his instinctive reaction to gag, instead shoving his hand over his nose and mouth. He could see an egg on the plate sitting innocently on the chest of drawers, clearly abandoned in a rush to get to a rescue, still in its shell. Still in its shell, after what must have been days, the green-grey fuzz of mold cradling it gently where it lay.

“Gordon, you can’t live like this, you have to clean this up.”

“Huh?”

Scott gestured at the room at large.

“This! This garbage heap you call a room! How can you just lie there and… and… relax? When it’s like this?”

Gordon shrugged.

“Good defence mechanism.”

“You’ll get yourself sick like this, you know that.”

“It’ll strengthen my immune system.”

Scott coughed back the stench.

“Is that…?”

No. He didn’t want to know.

“I’ll be fine,” said Gordon, staring deliberately up at the projection on the ceiling. He was watching Buddy and Ellie again, nestled between two piles of laundry and exercise gear abandoned at his feet.

Scott knew what he had to do. He knew what he should do. He just couldn’t be sure if there were any landmines ahead of him if he strode into the room.

Necessity called.

He jabbed a finger at his comm and cut the power.

“HEY!!”

“Clean it up, Gordon. You’ll get your damn show back when it’s liveable again.”

“I was busy!”

“You were watching videos! And I know you’ve seen that episode before, at least four times.”

“At least give me my lights! Please?”

Scott shook his head, his mouth twisting in disgust.

“You can start by opening the curtains, and the windows too. Get some fresh air in here.”

Gordon grabbed at the water bottle, hidden in the clothes by his head, and threw it with the aim of an athlete at the door slamming shut. It hit with a loud thud and clattered as it hit the floor.

Water began to seep under the gap and Scott rolled his eyes at the sight. Let Gordon have his tantrum if he wanted. The space was becoming a hazard to them all, and his disorganised brother needed a push. He remembered the last ‘argument’ that had stemmed from someone else daring to do it for him. Scott still had the scar.

***

Gordon glared at the offending door in the dark. The glow of his comm on his wrist provided the only light in the gloom, being the only object not reliant on the power that Scott had taken away from him.

Guilt stabbed at him as he looked around. Now that Scott had brought it to his attention, he couldn’t deny the truth in his accusations. Most of the precarious piles in the space was trash he’d been holding on to, or items that needed a home that he couldn’t find the energy to designate. There were meals and dishes long forgotten as he traipsed in from a rescue in the small hours, stumbling forward with eyes only for his bed. By the time he’d woken up, they’d just become another faded feature of the past. And speaking of his bed, he’d been sharing that space with an assortment of clothing, tablets and oceanographic equipment for longer than he cared to remember.

Thank goodness Penny hadn’t dropped by for a visit. Not that she wanted to see him at the moment, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him slyly.

Gordon scowled, pushing the memory of their last meeting away with a practiced ease. He wasn’t dwelling.

He scrambled to his feet and picked his way across the background noise of the past two months. He yanked open the curtains and looked around, eyes blinking as he took in the sight of dishes piled eight deep glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

He could see Alan, waving up at him from the deck below, and felt the tug to join him, to dive into whatever his brother was doing, anything to not feel alone and stranded on this antipodean island.

Instead, he shoved open the balcony doors and scooped up the wrappers that spilled out of their caged position on the edge of his dresser.

It was a room of categories.

Trash and not-trash.

Things with a home, and things without a home.

Stuff that was mere clutter, and stuff he was still most definitely using, never mind that weeks had passed since they’d last found their way into his hands, thanks Scott.

He doubted Scott had ever found himself with a stray hair dropped on his bathroom floor, let alone sworn violently at a smear of toothpaste that somehow stretched from the mirror to the floor, smeared by a sleepy hand in a futile attempt to clean it off before Gordon collapsed.

Gordon was scrubbing at it now.

The food was an easy fix at least, and he’d quickly employed MAX for depositing the dishes in a soak, wash, rinse, purify with fire cycle.

The room was becoming semi presentable again, enough that Gordon could actually walk between the piles instead of taking strategic leaps from clearing to clearing. That one for laundry, that one for clean clothes, that one for clothes that might have once been clean but had been trapped under so much stuff he thought they might appreciate another rinse if only for a shot at seeing the local scenery.

He tugged at the comforter, trying to extract it from under the “still-being-finished” projects he’d placed lovingly out of the way on his bed. It might be nice to sleep under something that smelt fresher than his socks.

A final jerk, accompanied by a necessary grunt, pulled the bedspread clear, turning Gordon’s sound of frustrated power into a hard-earned yell.

He fell, yelping as his shoulder struck the edge of his drawers and sent a precarious collection of borrowed items cascading to the ground. With him underneath.

A sharp knock on the door drew his attention.

“Gordon? You alright in there?”

Gordon scowled at the door, imagining the way he might throttle Virgil if he came in now, with his barely disguised approval and his wide-eyed sympathy that Gordon couldn’t keep his space straight like the rest of them. Especially now that the once clear floor was covered in junk all over again.

He hit his head against the floor with a thunk.

“Fine. Get lost.”

He didn’t need X-ray vision to see the huff and rolling eyes Virgil gave in response.

“Have it your way. Scott’s got dinner sorted in an hour or so if you want it.”

Gordon was very certain he would not.

He didn’t move even after he had heard Virgil’s footsteps fade away. The afternoon light had turned golden warm as the sun began to set. He could ask Scott for the lights back, he knew Scott had only turned them off to grab his attention, but the dimming room suited his dark mood just fine.

He wished he could call Penny, twelve hours behind him and a world away, just to complain and joke about ways to pay Scott back tenfold for the trouble he’d caused him.

He wondered if she still bothered to wake up early when there was no one scheduled to call anymore. His 0400 alarm had hardly wavered, his body attuned to the rhythm and his heart wishing beyond reason to hear word of the daily minutia of life in high society London.

He couldn’t call her just to talk about junk.

He couldn’t call her to talk about anything.

Gordon scrubbed at his face, drawing his legs in as he made to stand once more. He reached out, fingers splayed on the floor, as he hauled himself upright. His eyes fell on the shimmering pink material at the base of the tower that now lay scattered across the room.

A scarf, but not just any scarf, as she’d haughtily told him. A gift from a Duchess, another high end and frivolous purchase, on loan from a very, very good friend of her father – Gordon could hardly remember the details, laughing at her affronted look while he downplayed its importance.

“Just a piece of fabric, Penny, no better, no worse than my pants.”

“Than your trousers, I should say.”

Gordon laughed again.

“Nah, Pen, definitely my pants.”

Maybe it had meant something to her, but she’d let him take it home, covered in her perfume and her love and her firm belief that he deserved something special of hers.

A tangible image of her heart and he’d taken it in with irreverence and mockery, and hidden it away beneath clutter and trash and the needs of everyone and anyone that wasn’t her. Lost it among a pile of junk now strewn on the floor, none of which even mattered, not even to him. He’d thrown half his life away, only to find her still draped all over him.

Draped, no thrown carelessly on his chest of drawers, with none of the delicacy and care that her vulnerability and trust deserved, none of the precious love he had sworn up and down was hers.

His vision blurred as he ran his rough hands through the soft folds and he tapped the comm before he could think twice about the consequences.

He couldn’t look at the holo as it answered, its blue light spilling out into the room, cold and lifeless. It might have been Parker for all he knew as he sobbed into the scarf.

“Gordon?”

Her voice was a balm against the wound rending him in two.

“Pen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her silence chased his mumbled apologies and regret into the darkened room.

“Thank you, Gordon.”

#gordon tracy #scott tracy #penelope creighton-ward #pen and ink #not a HUGE amount of pen though so fair warning #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #*backflips away from my responsibilities by writing fic*#is the egg from personal experience only i will ever know

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erzherzog-von-edelstein · 3 years ago

Note

18: bear hug Bavaria

The sun glinted off the gilding of the carriage as it pulled into the courtyard. Austria could feel his heart beating fast with anticipation. His brother and his guests were late, and it was making him anxious.

It had taken months of planning through letters, and it irked him that all that work had resulted in him checking his watch, waiting for his brother and a princess. A princess who had an important role to play as soon as the formalities were sorted.

It felt wrong to make Franz Joseph spend time away from the work that he valued so highly. But, he had to marry and produce an heir, and this scheme was better than anything else.

Seeing the carriage finally arrive soothed him at least a little. Bavaria emerged first, looking as sunny and carefree as ever. He was dressed lightly for travel, and would need to change before any formal introductions were made.

He opened the door and offered his hand to the women within. Duchess Ludovika, the mastermind behind this whole plan, took his hand and stepped down. Austria noted the black dress, and reminded himself that he should offer his condolences.

He watched as the long awaited princess stepped out. She was beautiful, as all of the Wittelsbachs were, and Franz would be happy if he valued such things. Likely his mother’s approval would matter the most, as it always did. Only a fool would cross Sophie and expect to keep the emperor’s favor. The Archduchess approved of the Wittelsbach princess, and that meant the matter was already settled.

To Austria’s great surprise a second younger woman also emerged from the carriage. The girl looked untidy, which Austria noted with displeasure. No Habsburg princess would be allowed to meet anyone looking as she did.

He knew his role, and stepped toward the group. He said, with the usual formality, “Welcome to Bad Ischl.”

The firm formality didn’t seem to bother Bavaria at all. He smiled back at him and said, “I’m sorry for the delay. I hope we are not too late.”

Austria knew that there was more he wanted to say, but they both knew the rules in front of others. Had they been alone, their greeting would have been more affectionate.

He could have said that the delay was unacceptable, but he didn’t feel like ruining his brother’s good mood. Instead, he said, “The emperor is waiting for you.”

He glanced at the girl with the disorderly dress and said, “Though I suggest you take some time to compose yourself first.” She seemed to shrink under his gaze.

Bavaria said, breaking through any possible tension, “That’s a very good idea.” He gestured to the grooms, who took the women’s luggage while the Duchess escorted her daughters inside.

Once they were out of earshot, Austria added, “And now they get the honor of explaining why they are late to Sophie. God help them.”

The archduchess’ exacting standards were well known, and even her own sister would not escape them. Austria was glad that he didn't have to be present to have that discussion.

Bavaria said, like he was trying to get his attention, “Brother.”

Austria turned to look at him, and was shocked when the other swept him into a hug. He let out an undignified noise as his feet left the ground momentarily as his brother lifted him.

Bavaria spoke, and Austria could hear that he was beaming, “I am so glad to see you.”

The loving manhandling was familiar, but it also threw all formality to the wind. Austria said, half-serious, “Unhand me! This is so undignified.”

He felt so small in his brother’s arms that it almost made him forget that he was an empire. He had never decided whether he enjoyed the feeling or not. But he was certain that he didn't need to try to convince his brother that he was powerful.

Bavaria chuckled and said, “I will give you your dignity back when you hug me back.”

Austria decided it was better not to argue with him, because he was in such an affable mood. After the ever-present tension in Vienna, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

He wrapped his arms around Bavaria’s shoulders as well as he could. The man was much too broad to hug easily. He smiled and said, “I’m glad to see you too, you big idiot.”

Bavaria slowly released him, and Austria could see exactly how broadly he was smiling. He said, “I have been excited all the way from Munich.”

Austria made a show of straightening his jacket to make a point. He tried to keep a straight face as he said, “I can see that.”

He knew that he would only be able to keep the stern tone for so long. Bavaria’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he could already feel the enthusiasm bubbling up in his chest.

Bavaria replied, tapping him lightly on the shoulder with a fist, “Lighten up, Roddy. We’re going to have a royal wedding, and it’s going to be wonderful.”

Austria finally broke into a smile. No amount of courtly dignity could counter Bavaria’s natural charm. It was like resisting a force of nature. He said, “I am glad it is going to be Helene. She’ll make Franz very happy.”

He knew that he also felt much more comfortable forming a stronger bond with his brother than reaching out to a state who might be an uncertain ally. Bavaria said, with his same glowing smile, “I love weddings.” Austria shook his head, “You love any party. I don’t think you’ll like this one nearly as much. There are so many formalities.”

The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon. Austria added, “Let me show you to your room.”

He turned and Bavaria slipped his arm around his shoulders. He said, “I am looking forward to this. Several days watching young love bloom with my baby brother.”

As they walked towards the palace Austria chuckled and said, “Love in a royal marriage? You are optimistic.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth he realized that it was the first time he had laughed in quite a while. Bavaria replied, “Let’s hope I’m right, for both their sakes.”

Austria decided to change the subject to something he had been wondering, “Who is the other princess? I was only expecting Helene.” Bavaria answered, “Oh, that’s Sissi. Her mother wanted her to come along. I promise she won’t be any trouble.”

#hws austria #hws bavaria

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moons-writings · 4 years ago

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Cinderella au - aftg

Ok ok, I know that I’m supposed to be working on my vixen!neil au (and I am! It’s just taking a bit because I apparently can’t write short fics to save my life), but I just watched the live action Cinderella and I have Thoughts.

Neil is Cinderella, because while Andrew is totally the one with the evil barely-related family, it wouldn’t make sense for Andrew to go to a ball. Also, when Neil’s mom dies, his situation becomes worse, like Cinderella.

Lola is the evil stepmother but Nathan never goes to jail or dies. There’s no stepsisters (there could be if you want the Moriyamas, but I don’t because that just adds a whole other layer that I don’t want to deal with, also we like things soft) but the rest of the inner circle fills that role of pushing Neil down

Nathan has some high rank and is affiliated with the army. He’s not a captain or general by any means but has a reputation of being lethal.

Mary was the one with the real power (maybe a countess or foreign duchess), so Nathan married up. When she died, Stuart wanted to take Neil under his wing, but Nathan didn’t want to lose hold of the one thing that tied him to power so he argued that Neil should stay with him because Lola could provide some “maternal love”.

Neil is forced to do household chores and clean up after his father and his circle’s kills. He’s also forced to learn how to use knives to help them in the future

Bee is the queen, she is sisters with Abby, who marries Wymack

Andrew and Aaron are Bee’s kids, Kevin and Dan are Abby and Wymack’s

Wymack is part of the army, maybe the general or something. He teaches Dan the people skills while Kevin cares more about being the best swordsman

Aaron follows his aunt and becomes a healer while Andrew becomes a skilled cavalier

They all play a sport *cough exy cough* that they made up when they were little kids (and that’s why the rules are so screwed up)

Aaron wants a ball because he fell in love with a foreign princess (Katelyn) but Andrew doesn’t like her so Aaron wants Bee’s approval to trump Andrew

When he were younger, Andrew was kidnapped by Drake and he saw some human trafficking and Drake almost got to him. Renee saved him and got him to the royal guard. Andrew became an advocate for cleaning up the kingdom and became close friends with Renee

Bee adopted Andrew and Aaron when Tilda first abandoned them. Tilda tried to take one back but Bee made her realize that guilt wasn’t going to make her a good mother so Tilda left them in Bee’s care

Nicky and the twins know each other and their relation. Nicky’s parents are influential so although Bee has tried to save him, she can’t really take him away without causing a scandal, which she doesn’t think will be good for him. Instead, she suggests that he study under an ambassador. Nicky gets to travel and meet Erik, the prince of some place more powerful than Bee’s, and thus Luther’s, kingdom. Nicky is happy and lovesick and takes over as ambassador to Erik’s kingdom

ANYWAY

Aaron wants a ball

Bee says yes

Andrew is upset because Bee says everyone has to go, so he spitefully says that EVERYONE includes commoners, so now the whole freaking kingdom is invited

Bee privately thinks this is funny and that maybe it will mean that Andrew will find a nice boy

Dan thinks its hilarious and while Kevin is upset that it’ll take time away from practicing, it’s making Andrew take out his anger during practice

Invitations go out, announcements are made

Nathan decides he wants to go in order to social climb

He doesn’t want Neil to go because having a kid will make him look less serious

Neil doesn’t care but Matt, who is one of the servants (stable boy), wants to go and wants Neil to go because he wants his friend to have fun

Lola sends Neil to Allison’s dressmaking shop to order a dress

Allison has Renee over when Neil goes. Renee takes one look at Neil and sees someone who’s been hurt and needs help. Allison sees a fighter with horrendous fashion taste. Allison tells Neil she’ll make the dress only if Neil agrees to let her make a suit for him and if he’ll save the money to get something decent to eat

Neil agrees because while the suit thing might be weird, he’s not about to give up free money

Renee goes and tells Andrew because she thinks he might want to know about the corruption in the nobility

Andrew decides he wants to see this for himself so he decides to lurk around when Lola goes in for a fitting

Neil accompanies Lola because she wants to flaunt her power over him

Andrew sees Neil and is like “ooh pretty boy”

Neil sees Andrew and is Suspicious and kinda recognizes him as one of the princes

Allison sees all this and makes Andrew measure Neil for Neil’s suit

Renee laughs at Andrew’s pain

The “yes or no”s start here, but with Neil flinching away from Andrew when Andrew goes to measure Neil’s torso

Andrew is suspicious and a bit angry at what this might mean, because he saw how the trafficked kids reacted to other people and he know how he reacted the weeks and months after getting kidnapped so he knows something is up

Allison drags out Lola’s fitting as much as she can to give Andrew and Neil time to talk, as well as to give Neil time away from Lola

Andrew tells Neil to meet him in the woods if he wants to get away from his father

Neil is still suspicious but figures it couldn’t hurt, and besides, he’s definitely faster and a better fighter than some prince, right?

Neil and Lola go home and Lola complains to Nathan about how long Allison took, Nathan lets her at Neil

They meet in the woods the next day

Andrew wants to grill Neil when he sees how hurt he is, but Neil doesn’t really want to talk, so they exchange truths

They meet a couple more times like this (the ball isn’t happening for another three weeks because it takes time for this stuff to be planned and organized)

By the second week, the rest of the royal family has noticed and elected Dan to follow Andrew because Aaron and Kevin are both annoyed at Andrew for various reasons

The day Dan follows Andrew is also the day Matt comes with Neil. Matt had followed Neil because he wants to meet this person who is making Neil happy when he isn’t with Matt

Andrew is annoyed and tells Dan to annoy someone else, so she goes and talks with Matt. Matt now wants to go the the ball too

Slowly the foxes come together, and by the week before the ball, the royal cousins have taught the others exy.

Also, as the ball has been approaching, Nathan has swung between ignoring Neil and causing immense amounts of harm

This causes the foxes to rally even more around Neil

The week leading up to the ball, Nathan was scarily calm because the royal guard has lightened up on patrols and so Nathan isn’t as worried about getting caught

Neil tells the Andrew this privately and Andrew makes a note to get Neil away from his father asap

The day of the ball, Nathan and the inner circle go. They make plans to leave at midnight.

Neil isn’t really planning on going still, but Matt shows him the suit Allison had made for him (Allison gave Matt the suit because she didn’t trust Neil not to ruin it before the ball) and Dan had sent them a carriage, so it would be a waste not to go.

They don’t their names called because only the women and distinguished guests get to be announced

Andrew abandons Aaron when he sees Neil

Bee has already given Katelyn her stamp of approval when Katelyn was the first to arrive and she saw how lovesick both Aaron and Katelyn were

When Andrew gets to Neil, Matt leaves him to find Dan

For a solid hour everyone is happily paired off, Renee watching fondly as Allison makes snide remarks on others’ outfits, Aaron and Katelyn dancing, Matt and Dan talking, Neil and Andrew in the gardens. Kevin is talking with the daughter and apprentice of a blacksmith (Thea) and Nicky is pissing his parents off with Erik.

Then, when Neil comes back inside with Andrew, he sees a) the time and b) Nathan

He’s not sure if Nathan’s seen him, but he tells Andrew that he’s got to go, so he runs like the speedy little fucker he is. In his haste, he leaves a shoe, because Renee and Matt annoyingly made him change into bad-for-running shoes because his shoes were too dirty

This makes Renee, Dan, and Allison the Fairy Godmother(s)

Andrew picks up his shoe and decides that when he finds Neil, he’s going to get him shoes that fit better

At home, Neil finds that the inner circle minus Lola is back. They start to beat him up, and when Nathan and Lola get home, they continue to do so. Nathan can’t cripple Neil permanently because everyone would notice, but he does break his leg and slash him up

He’s about to break the other leg when the Foxes break down the door. Kevin, Renee, Dan, and Andrew utterly ruin Nathan, and since they’re royals, they’re untouchable

Nathan and the inner circle go to jail

It turns out Aaron proposed to Katelyn at the ball, so Andrew proposes with the shoe Neil lost. Neil is confused, but elopes with Andrew.

Dan, Allison and Nicky laugh, Renee and Kevin shake their heads for different reasons and then Nicky freaks out because he wanted to throw elaborate weddings for his cousins, but now Andrew has ruined it

#aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #kevin day #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #coach wymack #abby winfield #bee dobson #nathan and the evil inner circle #my au #cinderella au

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