#taking a deep breath and attempting a child centric approach

[winepresswrath]

I will laugh so hard if it turns out that John is making a sincere effort at being a decent parent and it's such an awful outcome for Gideon that I feel like it's plausible. He's giving off such man who thinks of himself as a good guy confronted with oops baby vibes.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Four

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining, much angst, violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

Baast, back in her own clothes and covered in a cloak, hood pulled forward to hide her face, followed Din and Grogu through the bustling streets. It had been a long time since she'd been in the company of so many. 

It was overstimulating. There were too many voices, too many scents, too many emotions bombarding her at once. She increased her pace, walking practically on Din's heels as she reached out and laid her fingertips against the beskar. 

Blessed silence. Yes, she still heard the noise with her ears, but it no longer vibrated within her skull. Too long had she isolated herself to be this out of practice blocking out the world around her.

"Baast?"

She flinched and removed her hand. "Apologies. It is… loud. I have not been around this many people for some years."

He studied her for a moment before stepping closer. "The beskar blocks your abilities, doesn't it?"

She tilted her head. "To some extent, yes."

He handed her Grogu, then took her right hand and tucked her fingers at his elbow, allowing them to graze the silver of his vambrace. 

The position of honour caused her mouth to gape. "Mando?"

"When I show up with you, it is highly probable Karga will make assumptions. Do not be alarmed if I don't dispute them."

"Ah," Baast nodded and accepted her place in their deception. 

He led her through the market, Grogu babbling happily. Now that she wasn't fighting to shield her mind, she could focus on the people around them and the merchandise.

Spices, silks, pots, pans, and machine parts all crowded together, spilling from one booth to the next. The people called, cried, and bellowed in so many languages it was deafening for an all-new reason. 

Baast had never allowed herself to enjoy such things before. Always she had remained vigilant, one step ahead of those hunting her, but she knew nothing would come that Din would not first see. 

He was a great hunter. Grogu and his snippets of memory assured her of it.

Eventually, they left the market to walk dusty streets, heading into a more respectable, business-centric area of the city, finally arriving at a neatly whitewashed building with a plaque that read Magistrate above the door.

Baast hesitated.

"He's a friend."

She glanced up at Din and felt the small wave urging her to trust him bump against her. She did trust this Mandalorian. He would not put her in danger and motioned for him to continue.

The inside was as welcoming as the outside, with soft cream walls and individuals wearing brightly coloured clothing.

The female at the desk looked up, took them in, and pressed a button at her station. "The Mandalorian is here, Magistrate Kraga."

"Well, send him back!" bellowed from down the hallway.

The female rolled her eyes and waved them on. 

Baast felt more than heard Din's amusement. "Who is he to you?" she whispered.

"He was Leader of the Bounty Hunters Guild. Now he's still that, but also Magistrate of Nevarro."

They were met in the doorway by a man of later years, the grey of his beard giving him a distinguished air that went well with his yellow and gold robes.

Someone more naive than Baast might have said he looked jolly, but she knew better. He was happy to see Din, certainly, but there was a sharpness to his smile and cunning to his eyes that bespoke a shrewd businessman lurked beneath the finery. 

"Come in, Mando! You've had some success; I take it?" he asked.

Din tilted his head and motioned for the man to proceed them back into the room.

The Magistrate turned his cunning eyes her way, and Baast was suddenly very grateful for the heavy cloak.

"And you've brought a guest?"

"Greef Karga, Baast'mal," Din said, his voice without inflection.

"Charmed, I'm sure," the man said, attempting to peer past her hood. 

Baast clutched Grogu to her and glanced up at Din. He made no move either way, just gave her the inscrutable visage of his visor.

"Pirusti met," she murmured.

Karga's brow whipped up like it was alive, surprise written on his face. "Speaks Mando'a, hmm? Did you take a riduur and not tell me, my friend?"

As he warned her, Din didn't dispute it, and Karga jumped to his own conclusions with a toothy smile. 

"Well, congratulations! A clan of three! Come, we will drink to your good fortune."

"You mean you will drink," Din chuckled and made his way across the room to a small couch where he motioned Baast to sit with Grogu as he approached the man's desk and pulled three pucks from his pocket. "You can celebrate for us later. We have somewhere else to be."

Karga stared at the pucks, eyebrow slowly winging upward. "Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four. Surely no one escapes the Great Mandalorian?"

"The last was dead on arrival. Body retrieval wasn't an option."

Baast fought not to shudder and looked down when Grogu tapped her chest. A wave of soothing calm went through her, and she forced herself to relax.

Karga peered at Din for a long time before his gaze shifted to Baast. "You know, the last time you refused to turn in a bounty - or rather when you liberated a bounty after turning them in - they wound up bound to you. If I were the suspicious sort, I would wonder at the sudden appearance of a riduur and lack of a fourth body."

Din didn't move, he said nothing, yet it was as if he grew bigger and sucked the air from the room. The swelling wave of menace left Baast breathless.

Then Karga grinned. "Good thing I'm not the suspicious sort."

The heavy feeling subsided, and Baast sucked in a full breath.

"Should they ask, you tell them she's dead."

Karga nodded. "I'll log the information myself." Then, he opened a drawer and reached inside before sliding an ingot of beskar across the table. "For your trouble."

Din visually stiffened, betraying his surprise. "Where did you get that?"

"Off the Imps after this last round of clean up."

"You have others?"

Karga shook his head before throwing a handful of credits down beside it. "That should make us even."

"It does. Get your cargo off my ship." Everything went in a pouch on Din's belt.

Karga pressed a button on his desk. "Tana'ya, send the boys."

The bodies encased in carbonite would soon be off the ship. While Baast didn't mind them, the bodies within were in stasis - dreamless and without emotion - their startled or angry faces were slightly disturbing. 

"Now, a question for your lady before you leave," Karga smiled, and Baast went still. The man was far too interested in her. "Is it true Mandalorian wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Again Din stiffened, betraying himself in a way Baast was not used to. "She says, "Foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger.'" Almost too low to hear, he murmured, "My woman is all warrior."

Pride filled her and straightened her spine before despair crashed down. She could not be his woman. She could not condemn him to half a life if their bonds failed.

Grogu's hands caressed her face, comfort offered in the gesture.

She bent and kissed his wrinkled green head. "Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad," she whispered, claiming what might be her only opportunity to have a child by adopting this one. "I know your name as my child," she translated near his large ear when his gentle curiosity filled her, the two of them hidden beneath her hood.

He cooed and patted her face, encouraging her not to give up hope, but Baast had lost hope years ago with her first mutation. Hope was a hard thing to cling to when one's teeth fell out.

The distressed cry from Grogu - who had the misfortune of picking up on that particularly disturbing memory - had Din before them in an instant. He dropped to a knee to sit Baast back when she hadn't even realized she was slumping forward over her knees. 

He peered into the shadows of the deep hood. "Baast?"

"It is nothing," she whispered, fighting tears and a trembling lip.

"Mando?" Karga murmured, sounding genuinely concerned.

Din spoke over his shoulder. "Shut down your recording devices and give us a moment… please."

Karga appeared stunned by the please before pressing a button on his desk. He headed for the door but paused to open a small cabinet. "There is water here should she need it." 

The quiet click of the door closing announced his exit before Din was thrusting back her hood. "Baast, what is it?"

"Nothing," she whispered, closing her eyes, her heart tearing itself in two.

Soft and warm, his bare hands cradled her face and swept the tears spilling from her eyes away. "This isn't nothing. I want to help. Let me."

"You cannot help this," she insisted. "I am too broken."

"You're not broken. Baast, tell me what's wrong?"

Unable to hold out against his kindness, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him with Grogu safe between them. "I realized I would never have warriors. I will never know the joy of growing a new life. The closest I will ever come to being a mother is with Grogu."

Though he held her gently, it was a little stiff. It made her think he hadn't hugged many people or any, but eventually, his arms tightened, and hands began to stroke tenderly along her spine. "You don't know that."

"If I cannot bond with my mate, I cannot breed," she whispered the horrible truth into his cowl.

His hands stilled. She could almost feel him processing that information. Then, ever so gently, he murmured, "Aliit ori'shya tal'din."

Family is more than blood.

She clung tighter and wept into the beskar of her star-crossed mate.

***

Din kept his hand on Baast's hooked at his elbow as they walked through the market on their way back to the ship. She was subdued, far too quiet after her revelation. When he took her down the aisle where they sold clothing, she picked what she needed and nothing more.

He added to the pile, haggled down the price and hauled the sack of new things over his shoulder before offering his arm. His whole body ached for her. He didn't know what to say, what to do, how to comfort her after this. 

It had reduced the once-proud set of her jaw to a resigned tuck as she walked silently beside him. She was despondent and not at all the proud, fierce Zentari he knew her to be. 

Maker ! He didn't know how to snap her out of this self-induced funk. 

When she yanked him, beskar and all, into a narrow alleyway between two booths, Din wondered if he would have to. "Baast?"

"Someone comes for you," she growled, removing her hand from his armour, likely to open herself to this person's mind. "They are intent on finding you."

He was already reaching for his blaster. "Do they mean us harm?"

"I cannot tell. I can just feel the urgency. They are after you. Come." Baast turned and sprinted down the alley.

Din went after her, amazed by her agility as she went up the corner of two buildings and over a roof as smoothly as she'd run down the street. He followed with only slightly less grace and paced her as they ran silently above the market.

She swung around a corner and came to a stop on the balcony of a two-story home before throwing back her hood. "They persist." She handed him Grogu before snaking the beskar spear from his back.

"Baast, let me-" 

She growled so fiercely Din took a step in retreat. "They come for you, not me. I will stop them. Go. Get Grogu to the ship."

"I'm not leaving you here!" he insisted.

Baast snarled and snapped her teeth together before shrugging her cloak to the ground and going up the wall. She was gone so fast, he barely had time to register her disappearance before a sharp cry and harsh grunt rang out a few buildings back. 

"Kriff!" he hissed, snatching up her cloak before running after her.

He leapt the space between buildings in time to watch Baast take Cara Dune's feet out from under her and put the ex-shock trooper on her ass. Then his spear was headed for Cara's chest.

"Baast, stop!"

She did, so sharply and with so much control she went from in motion to motionless in an instant. "You know this one?"

"She's a friend."

Baast stepped back, dropped the butt of the spear to the ground and scowled at him. "You have too many."

He threw her the cloak, she tossed him the spear, both catching their items in the same instant. It sent a funny flutter to his heart. 

As Baast shrugged back into her cloak, Din crossed to Cara and held down his hand. 

She glared up at him, sporting a black eye and bloody lip. "Maker, Mando. Where'd you find this one?"

Baast hissed like an angry cat before tucking her braids into her hood and lifting it over her head.

He was finding this all too amusing and too damn close to his dream to be real. "Cara Dune, Baast'mal."

Grogu cooed and reached with grabby hands for Cara, who accepted Din's and let him haul her to her feet. "Hey! Womp rat! I've missed you."

She reached for the kid, but the low growl from Baast had the three of them glancing her way. Her hands were clenched in fists, and though he could no longer see her eyes, he knew she glared at the lack of space between Grogu and Dune.

"Nayc," Baast growled.

"Why?" Din asked.

"Kaysh cuyir ner adiik."

He was only surprised for a moment. After her earlier emotions, it shouldn't have phased him she'd taken Grogu as her child.

"She is a friend," he murmured. "You can trust her with Grogu."

"Grogu?" Cara muttered. "Mando, what the kriff is this?"

"Ni taylir him o'r ner kar'ta," Baast growled, clenching her fists.

Din held out his hand, Grogu strangely silent like any Mandalore child would be when an unknown female attempted to touch the heart bound child of another. Grogu wasn't just a foundling to Baast, not anymore. She had accepted him as her child. 

This could all go sideways if he wasn't careful.

"Olaror," Din murmured, beckoning Baast to his side. "Udesla." He encouraged her to be calm when she arrived and placed her hand in his. "Haalur," he whispered for her ears alone. "No one will take him from us, but Dune has helped me get him back and keep him safe. You can trust her."

"I trust you," Baast sighed, her hand again finding its way to his elbow. "This place makes my hackles jump."

Suddenly, Cara wavered, her body rocking before she dropped to one knee. "Mando?" She fell to her side and rolled to her back. Her breath came hard and fast as dark lines raced to show her veins beneath her flesh. 

"That looks like poison," Din stated, handing Grogu to Baast before dropping down beside Cara.

"It is."

He glanced up in time to watch Baast throw back her hood and kneel beside him. "What are you talking about?

She held up an index finger and flexed it gently. From beneath the black nail emerged a sharp spine that glistened at the hollow tip. "They called it my Snake Tooth. It is full of Sand Cat venom. It appears I caught her with it. I thought her foe at the time."

"Maker," Din whispered. 

Dune was a dead woman.

"Give me your cuisse," Baast commanded as she set Grogu down, then batted his hands away. "No, ad'ika. It is more than you can heal. I will fix her."

"How?" Din asked as Dune began to claw at the ground. The pain must be excruciating, but she kept her teeth clenched.

"Your cuisse!" Baast snapped. "We have not much time." 

He began to unbuckle the thigh guard. "What are you going to do, Baast?"

The words barely cleared his lips before she reached into her mouth and yanked out a tooth. 

"Kriff!" he bellowed as blood dripped down her chin. "What was that?"

She swiped at her face, smearing blood before snatching his cuisse and turning it into a makeshift dish. "Your canteen."

He handed it over. "Baast?"

"I inherited the Manka's teeth. It is another reason they fight so hard to retrieve me." She ground the canteen down on the tooth, then added enough water to dissolve the powder before bringing his cuisse to Cara's blackening lips. "Drink and live."

Cara's wild eyes rolled to him, and Din nodded. She could trust Baast, even if the one had just tried to kill the other. 

Baast poured the liquid into Cara's mouth and made sure she swallowed before handing the thigh guard back to Din.

"How long does it take-"

"What the kriff is going on here!" Cara spat as she launched herself into a seated position, black lines receding like they were being erased.

"Hn. I see," Din chuckled. Faster than he had expected. He pulled a rag from his pocket, one always close at hand with Grogu around and dumped water on it before reaching to clean the blood from Baast's face. "How long until the tooth regrows?"

"Three weeks." Baast's lashes fluttered. She leaned into his hand like a cat enjoying the petting.

It made him sick, wondering how she knew that with such assurance. How many times had her torturers pulled her teeth? 

"You will want to avoid alcohol for the next full day. The powder will not allow harm to befall you. That includes pouring poison into your liver," Baast warned.

"What did you just do to me?" Cara demanded. 

"Saved your life. In the process, the Manka teeth make you invulnerable to harm for the next day." Baast lunged and laid Cara out, her sharp claws clenched around Cara's neck. "Do not waste this gift, and do not speak of it to anyone," she snarled.

"Or what?" Cara forced out. "I'm invulnerable to harm."

"I can still tear out your throat. Even my abilities cannot repair that." Baast gave her a bloody smile that was terrifying to see before releasing Dune and retrieving Grogu.

"I see you've made a new friend," Dune muttered. "She'd be hot if she wasn't terrifying."

Din smirked and helped Cara to her feet. "She is something."

She looked at him and arched a brow. "I think you like her."

He said nothing.

"Maker! You do!" Cara laughed and shook her head. "You know Karga thinks you married her. That she's something called a riduur? I said there's no way, not our Mando, but now I'm not sure." 

She peered up at him as if she could see through the visor. Din stared back until she huffed and shook her head. 

"Well, she fights dirty, so I guess that's a good thing. I never even felt her scratch me with that snake thingy."

"Snake Tooth," he murmured, watching Baast smile at Grogu as the little one played with the end of her braid.

"And she's sure not hard on the eyes," Dune murmured.

Jealousy soured Din's stomach. Baast was not his to covet, yet he wanted to. He wanted everyone to see how mesh'la she was, but he also wanted to hide her beauty away, let it be just for him to admire.

"What did you want, Dune?" he asked coldly.

She appeared to shake herself from Baast's thrall and turned toward him. "I just wanted to see the kid and check-in before you left again. Nothing exciting ever happens around here unless you're involved," she grinned.

"Was this excitement enough?" Din asked, amused.

"Nah," Cara scoffed. "That's a typical afternoon," she chuckled.

He snickered, watching Baast's face light up when Grogu chattered in coos and babbles. She murmured to him, spoke Mando'a so low she probably thought he couldn't hear her, but he could. He could hear her calling him sweet baby as she stroked his ear before she lifted him beneath her chin and rumbled that sound that made the thing in his chest purr back. 

If that didn't quit, he would have to get it checked by the covert's resident healer. 

It couldn't be healthy.

***

Pirusti met - well met

Nayc - no

Kaysh cuyir ner adiik - he is my child

Ni taylir him o'r ner kar'ta - I hold him in my heart

Olaror - come

Udesla - calm

Haalur - breathe

ad'ika - little one

***

Next Chapter

[ourflagmeansdeth]

haircut / bolin x reader, soulmate au

summary: Your trip to Republic City doesn't turn out as expected, and you and your roommates find yourselves in the middle of Kuvira's attack. Three short vignettes of backstory, all wrapped up with an impromptu haircut and a sweet introduction.

a/n: oh my lord :) this was so challenging and fun to write! the only ideas i seem to ever have are also the ones i don't know how to approach, so writing this was a doozy. i’ve never written any AUs but soulmate aus have always been a personal fave. i hope that yall enjoy this one as much as i do, its less bolin-centric and takes a bit of patience, but i think it's very sweet! thank you for all your support on my previous works as well, it means a whole lot to me <3 additionally, i now have 100+ followers on this blog! thank you so much, yall :) love u all, stay safe!

read on ao3

On your 18th birthday, you got your mark. You woke up eager, jumping out of bed and stripping your sleeping clothes off to see where it had appeared. At first, you panicked— it was nowhere to be seen, rubbing your hands along the backs of your legs and arms, hoping the friction would urge it to surface. After what had felt like hours of checking in every corner of your body in the mirror, you gave up and wrapped yourself in a blanket, walking out of your bedroom in search of your mother.

With tears in your eyes, you hugged your mom as she wished you a happy birthday, taking a deep breath and engulfing yourself in her calming scent. Upon seeing you crying, her face washed over with concern as she asked you if you’d found your mark yet. You talked through your doubts, suggesting that you might not even have a soulmate, and that no mark was ever supposed to appear, and that it just wasn’t meant to be.

“Y/n, don’t be foolish,” she reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze, “let’s check together.”

You pulled the blanket up and turned your ankles, checking on the soles of your feet, your toes. You huffed, pulling it up around your thighs and spinning unenthusiastically for her to check the backs of them. You dropped the blanket down, reaching up to slip it down off your arms.

You exposed your shoulders, your mother lifting your arms to check your armpits, in between your fingers, along your collarbone. She spun you around with her hands, checking the skin on your back. She pushed the hair on your neck forward and placed a finger on the nape of your neck, chuckling.

“Looks like we’re going to have to plan a trip to the earth kingdom sometime soon.”

.

You hadn’t left the Northern Water Tribe for your entire life until you turned 20. Living with a few childhood friends in a shared apartment, you all dreamed of one day traveling to Republic City and living it up for a couple days, Republic style. The spirits had just arrived in the City, and you all wanted to see them before the government did something to rid them, having heard great stories of large vines and friendly spirits speckled along the bustling streets.

You heard good reviews about Varrick Industries’ blimp flights from the Northern Water Tribe to Republic City, but the technology was just a bit too new (and therefore expensive), and a local fisherman offered to give you all a ride on his boat in exchange for a bit of work during the trip. You had known the fisherman to be a little unhinged, but you didn’t complain.

The four of you planned on staying at an inn not too far from the pro-bending arena, which was a huge deal, since all of you listened to pro-bending matches on the radio together religiously. Every Friday night was an event, where you helped your roommate, Tonauk, cook a large meal for everyone as a celebration of the week’s end. As all of you sat down for dinner, you would discuss your theories for the night’s matches, turning the radio on after you all had finished.

You all had to go out and buy new clothes since your wardrobes were too warm for the weather in the city, modifying a couple items of clothing you never wear, chopping off the sleeves on a lightweight tunic. You figured you could do a bit of shopping while on your vacation, but hey, things were probably cheaper here, anyway. You packed up your bags and wished to have a safe journey, and a nice, relaxing week in Republic City. It felt so strange leaving the one place you’ve been your entire life, but it felt like it was time, and you were ready.

.

To put it shortly, the trip to Republic City was an absolute disaster. The boat ride over was actually pretty bearable, though— the fisherman had the four of you working the sails most of the time, which was second nature to you, the child of a fisherman. Upon your arrival, you discovered that an angry spirit occupied the room you had reserved at the inn, forcing the four of you to opt for a cramped two-bed on the first floor. It wasn’t the best of circumstances, but you all were determined to see it through and still have a good time.

Where things really went south was when Kuvira arrived. It had been about three days into your vacation, and your roommate Niko insisted on taking a ferry trip to Air Temple Island. It was a gorgeous day and the sun felt so good on your skin, the breeze caressing your face as it flowed past you.

The four of you were absolutely clueless to what was happening in the city— the looks of concern on the Air Acolytes’ faces as you leisurely strolled through on your tour of the island, the crowds of people boarding boats in droves when you arrived back at the ferry. As you walked towards the dock, an Acolyte approached your group and told you to leave immediately, and that the city was being evacuated.

The ferry ride back to the port was probably the most stressed you’d ever been in your entire life. You and Tonauk were waterbenders, but Niko and Kala weren’t, and if they got caught up in some twisted Kuvira shit, you would never forgive yourself if you weren’t able to save them. How should we have known Kuvira was here? How were we supposed to know that “Oh, Kuvira’s coming, so let’s all silently up and leave”? It didn’t make sense, and now you were really in danger, and you felt the horrible weight of putting your friends in this situation. It was your idea to go to Republic City, but you hadn’t thought about the possibility of this happening.

That was when you had heard Niko curse something under his breath next to you, and you looked out across the water. Kuvira was here, alright— and she brought a giant mecha suit that was aiming its arm in front of itself. You covered your ears as the blast that erupted from it echoed across the water. Holy shit.

.

You were absolutely sure that you were going to die. Since the buses and trams across the city had closed down, the four of you were on foot, making your way to the train station. You all crouched and sheltered yourselves as you heard another blast close by. When the coast was clear, you all turned a corner, happening upon a stressed, scrambled group of airbenders. You hurried to offer a hand to them as they picked themselves off the ground.  It took a while to realize what was all happening in front of you. You saw that you were about 200 feet from the giant mecha suit, which you had assumed caused the airbenders to crash. Holy shit, is that the avatar?

“Excuse me? You’re not supposed to be here.” A stern voice chided from behind you.

“Yeah, what’re some civilians doing around here anyway?” You turned to look at who was speaking: two men, both eyeing your group up as you helped an airbender to their feet.

“We were making our way to the train station. We didn’t know there was an evacuation.” Tonauk defended, stepping forward.

“You didn’t know?” The green eyed one looked at Tonauk in disbelief. “We’ve been evacuating for days— There was a city-wide radio broadcast… that played aloud to the entire city.”

You recalled that you were on a day trip out to a park outside the city yesterday and probably completely missed the broadcast. “Ugh!” you exclaimed, “That’s why our ferry tickets were so cheap.”

“People will really do anything for money nowadays, huh?” Niko muttered.

“You guys went on a ferry?” the taller of the two questioned, disappointment spread across his face.

“Oh, my god,” the green-eyed one chuckled. “They went to Air Temple Island and didn’t know there was a city-wide evacuation? Like, we’re straight up under attack right now.” He gestured to the mecha suit, which had just blasted a building a block away. Kala scoffed.

“Guys?” Oh my god, it really was the Avatar! “We’d love to get to know you, but we uh, have something that we really have to deal with right now,” she forced a smile, gesturing for the two boys to join her. They turned and ran to the rest of their group, circling up to strategize.

Before you could mutter something about how some people in this city are just so impolite, the building next to you started crumbling. Tonauk attempted to shelter the four of you by drawing water up from the sewer cap nearest you, but there wasn’t enough to provide good cover. That was when you were knocked out momentarily by a few bricks that had fallen, coming to seconds later and realizing that you were stuck underneath a pile of rubble. Your hair, grown long for many years despite your mother’s wishes, was now trapped underneath some kind of machinery that had fallen from the building. Your face was stuck against the rubble beneath you. Your arms were free enough to pull the rest of your body from the bricks that held it down, but your head would not budge, your cheek pressed against some kind of electrical unit.

“Hold still!” the green-eyed boy’s voice echoed in your ears as he attempted at moving the weight on top of your hair. “Dammit, I can’t move it! Why do they make these things out of platinum?” he groaned.

“Just cut it off!” you managed to squeak out.

“If you say so,” he began, reaching in his pocket to pull out a foldable knife. You craned your neck to pull your hair taut. With one short swoosh, your head was free, but the man above you didn’t move. “I, uh…” he trailed off.

“What is it?” you picked yourself up, scanning the scene around you, relieved to see that your friends had survived.

A blush spread across his face as he reached an arm up to rest behind his head. Or, was he...? You reached up to press the earth emblem on the back of your neck, now exposed from your new haircut. “Oh my god, turn around.” you ordered him, as he turned, folding his popped collar down. You gasped to yourself as you saw that the water emblem was printed across the nape of his neck. “I, uh…” you echoed him.

“Really need to… get going?” he finished for you, “But I’m really confused, so like, if we both make it out of this alive, my friend Varrick is having a wedding, and you should come.” he turned around and his eyes sparkled, reaching out his hand to give yours a shake. “I’m Bolin. And you are?”

“Y/n,” you exhaled, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” he glanced over at his group. “Okay, gotta go. Not sure where the wedding is, but come to Air Temple Island if all else fails. See you then!” Bolin gave you a reassuring smile before running off.

You looked behind you, at your friends, who were now staring at you dumbfounded. “Nice haircut.” Kala gave you a thumbs up as you walked back towards them. Bolin and the others ran off down the street, towards the mecha suit.

“So… he’s like, your…?” Niko suggested.

“I… don’t know,” you stuttered, straightening out your tunic. “but I do know that we have a wedding to go to, so let’s get the hell out of here.”

[conretewings]

No Place For Kids

****Ok, so I thought I posted this forever ago (like, over a year) but I just found it sitting in my drafts and when I went to check my archive...it wasn’t there? I don’t know if I overlooked it or what happened, but here? Enjoy this short Guzma-centric fic)****

A deathly quiet had fallen over the room, the only sounds now coming from the constant, distant drum of rain on the roof and the noise of grunts in other parts of the mansion. Guzma leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared hard at the nervous-looking young boy in front of him.

“What did you just say, kid?”

The boy swallowed and dared to meet his piercing gray eyes for just a moment before looking back down, “I-I want to j-join Team Skull.”

Guzma abruptly stood from his chair and in two strides was standing over him, the boy gasping and stumbling back a step. 

With a mirthless laugh he barked, “Tch! You’re scared to even be near me! You should be, but if yer gonna run with us ya gotta be at least tough enough to look me in the face…” he glared down at the boy, who’s eyes were glued to the floor and frowned, “Look at me.”

Slowly, trembling the whole time, he raised his head and held Guzma’s gaze, who regarded him critically before reaching out a hand. Instantly the boy yelped and threw up his arms to shield his face and neck. 

Startled, Guzma yanked his arm back before snapping, “Yo! Calm the fuck down! I ain’t gonna hit a kid! What the hell-”

He froze as the realization started to creep in; the young man’s stance, half-curled up and trying to protect himself as much as possible, shaking and waiting for the blow’s to come…he knew this scene far too well. He took a couple steps away and lowered his voice a bit.

“Hey kid. What’s your name? And for fuck’s sake how old are you? Y’aint even up to my chest.”

Slowly, the boy stood up again and met his eyes with a bit more confidence, “I’m Arin, and I’m twelve.”

Guzma felt his eye twitch as the rage began to bubble up. Stalking past Arin, he threw open his door and bellowed, “PLUMERIA!!”

A few moments later he heard her voice from downstairs, “What?”

“GET YOUR ASS UP HERE NOW!”

It only took a minute for her to reach his room, which she entered casually as he slammed the door behind her before looming over her and jabbing a finger in Arin’s direction.

“What the fuck is a twelve year-old doing here?! Who let him in and how did he get past you?!” he spat furiously.

Plumeria crossed her arms, unfazed by his attempts at intimidating her and pointedly ignoring it, “He didn’t. I told him to go talk to you.”

“What the fuck Plumes?! He’s twelve! Freakin’ TWELVE! This is a gang not a daycare! We ain’t got no room for brats barely outta diapers what the hell were you thinkin’?!”

“Look G,” she sighed, holding up her hands “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wouldn’t listen to me, or Tony, or Kaleb, or Annette, or anyone. I finally figured he might listen to you. Or, at least you could scare him off.”

Guzma whipped his head toward Arin, “That true, kid?”

He nodded, “Everyone kept telling me no, b-but I really wanted to, so…Plumeria, right? She told me that if I wanted in that bad I had to talk to you.”

Guzma slapped a hand over his face and grumbled a string of muffled obscenities while stalking back to his chair and grabbing a half-empty bottle from it’s base. Flopping back down, he drained part of it in one long swallow before glaring at Arin again.

“No. That’s my final say. Now git. If ya can’t remember where the door is, Plumes’ll be happy to kick you out it.”

Arin drew a deep, shaky breath before standing up straight and doing his best glare back at Guzma with a surprising amount of ferocity, “I’m not leaving.”

“Yes you are ya little shit-stain now get outta my face. Go home. This ain’t no place for kids.” 

Arin dropped his gaze again, “…I can’t go home.”

“The hell does that mean?” 

“It means I can’t go home.”

Guzma slammed his fist on his chair, “Listen, smartass! I will personally throw ya out the nearest window if ya keep it up. Now whattaya mean?”

“It means I can’t go home! I won’t!” the boy was yelling now and holding his head, “I’m not going back to hearing how much of a failure and a retard I am, to being either ignored or screamed at, to-to getting beat whenever I breathe the wrong way!” 

That tense quiet settled over the room again, and Plumeria caught Guzma’s gaze, giving him a knowing look as she noticed his pained, livid expression.

Drawing a deep breath, Arin glanced at them both before explaining, “My dad’s always been…hard on me. But when I failed my Island Challenge, things got really awful. I can’t leave my room most of the time and when I do it gets…bad. I…” he swiped a hand across his eyes before squaring his shoulders and raising a fist, “I want to re-take it! I’m stronger now, and I know I could do it. But my folks keep telling me not to bother, that I’ll just screw up again! But I won’t! And-and that’s why I need to join you! To get even more strong so I can win and show everyone who doubted me that I’m not worthless!”

For just a moment, Arin vanished, and Guzma saw himself in the boy’s place; young, angry, disheartened, beaten down but still determined to come out ahead. His eyes flicked to Plumeria, who’s own were with clouded with uncertainty and pity. 

She stepped over to Guzma, bending so she could talk quietly into his ear, “G, I know what you’re thinking. This kid is goin’ through some serious shit, but there ain’t no way he’s got any place here. I don’t know what to do. We can’t just send him back to that...”

“We ain’t gonna. I have an idea.” he murmured, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

He stood again, approached Arin and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye. There was nothing he could do for his past self, but maybe he could help this boy in the present. 

“Look. Yer not joinin’ us. I meant what I said, this ain’t no place for kids,” he noted how Arin glowered at his feet and clenched his fists, “Ya wanna know why else? ‘Cause you still have a chance. All of us? This is it. This is rock bottom and there ain’t no place to go from that. You? You still got a shot at makin’ somethin’ of yourself. I saw how passionate ya were just then, talkin’ about your dream of completin’ your Island Challenge. Don’t let that kind of spunk and determination flicker out.”

Slowly, Arin looked up at him, his face twisted with despair and anger but touched with surprise at Guzma’s words, “I don’t have anyplace to go, and I am not going home.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I can’t do anything else to help ya, but I know someone who can.”

 -Nanu craned his neck from his spot on his couch to look at his suddenly ringing phone. A couple Meowth looked up in vague interest before going back to grooming or napping. Finally, when he realized it was just going to keep ringing if he didn’t deal with it, he groaned and hauled himself to his feet, absently setting his coffee mug on a nearby desk and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey. I uh…I got a favor I need to ask.”

Nanu sighed, “Nice to talk to you too, Guzma. If you’re in jail again I’m not helping.”

“Oh-eat my ass, old man!”

 “No thanks, and if you’re looking for a favor, talking to me like that isn’t helping.” 

“….The favor ain’t for me.” 

-It was nearly a month later when Guzma half-walked, half-stumbled down the road, managing to hold bottles in each hand as he sang loudly and made his way to Nanu’s place. 

Reaching the door he leaned against the frame and used his knee to ‘knock’. “Heeeey ya crazy old cat man! It’s ya boy! Lemme in I got beer!”

The door opened and Nanu looked him up and down with his usual tired, morose expression. Guzma’s hair was a complete disaster, covered in glitter and what appeared to be Silly String. A huge, lop-sided grin was plastered on his face as he slumped against the door.

“’Sup?” he slurred.

Nanu sighed, “I’m pretty sure I could hear you guys all the way from here. Well, come in.”

He stepped aside and allowed Guzma to stagger in and flop onto the couch, displacing several hissing Meowth in his wake. Still chuckling, he held up one of the bottles he had.

“Didn’t feel right leavin’ you outta the party so I thought I’d come down and share. C’mon! Have a beer with me! It’s the good stuff!”

Nanu considred the offered bottle for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for a police officer to accept stolen goods.”

Guzma looked almost offended, “Yo! I just got paid, and bought these fair and square! I swear!” then his face lit up again, “Heh heh, that rhymed! Even drunk I still got it!”

Nanu’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly; he knew full well where that ‘pay’ had come from, and made a mental note to check up with his contacts within Aether later. For now, he had to admit a beer sounded refreshing, and the fact that it was coming from that woman’s dime made it sound even sweeter. 

At last, he shrugged and took it, sitting down next to the gang leader. “Thanks.” 

“Eeeyyyyy! There ya go!” crowed Guzma, “Heh, we haven’t had a beer together in ages! A toast! To uh…” he scratched his chin, absently picking some Silly String from his scruff, “To…shit. I had somethin’…” 

“How about to your friend, Arin?” Nanu suggested.

“Who? Ain’t none of my crew named Arin.” 

“I mean the boy you called in a 'favor’ about a while back.” 

Guzma paused with his bottle halfway to his mouth, the realization creeping into his expression. Slowly lowering it, he stared at Nanu briefly before leaning back and turning his gaze to the nearest window, his smirk slowly fading. After a moment he asked, "How’d the little dude make out?"

“Technically I’m not really supposed to discuss these kinds of cases, but considering you’re quite drunk I trust you’re not going to go blabbing it anyway-if you remember anything,” he ignored Guzma’s muttered curses and began to explain, “Child Services was sent to the house and well...you were right. Arin was definitely being abused.”

“I fucking KNEW IT!” snarled Guzma, hurling his empty bottle so hard it cracked into several pieces upon impact with the wall, “The way he acted, the shit he said-fuck,” he whirled toward Nanu, his eyes ablaze, “Please tell me-”

Nanu calmly held up a hand, “It was dealt with. Arin is now living with relatives on another island, and his father is not allowed to see him. I checked in about a week ago, and he’s doing very well. He plans on re-taking his Island Challenge soon.”

Guzma let out a long, deep sigh. His shoulders relaxed and he stood, slowly pacing around the small building, hands shoved in his pockets. He couldn’t help but think; what if someone had noticed his situation? He glanced down at the heavy gold chain around his neck, and suddenly it felt a lot heavier. If things had turned out differently, would he still be wearing this? Standing here? He shook his head, stuffing the darkness back down as he always did. Nanu waited patiently until he turned back to him and spoke.

“Yo. Thanks, old man.”

Nanu shrugged casually, secretly enjoying hearing the sincere gratitude, “He’s a good kid. He’ll be alright...” he paused, unsure if he should open this can of worms but deciding it was probably okay in the man’s current state, “I just wish that someone had done the same for you.”

Instantly, the mood in the room changed. Guzma froze, whipping his head toward him, eyes wide, his face an unnerving cross between alarmed and furious, “What’s that mean huh? The fuck does that mean?”

Nanu squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, realizing he’d messed up but knowing there was no backing out, “It means I wish someone had spoken up on your behalf when you were younger and had to go through what Arin has...who knows? Maybe you would-”

“WHO THE FUCK TOLD YOU THAT?!” Guzma exploded so loudly all the the Meowth laying around yowled and scrambled over each other to run out the door, “THAT SHIT AIN’T NO ONE’S FUCKIN’ BUSINESS! I swear when I find the-”

“You did.”

Breathing heavily, fists clenched as if ready to fight an enemy who wasn’t there, or the phantoms of his nightmares, Guzma asked, “What?”

Nanu repeated himself, “You did. I don’t think you realize just how much you talk when you’re drunk. One night, kind of like this one, you came down here and told me all about your life growing up. You talked for what had to have been a couple hours before you passed out on the couch. When I got up you were still sleeping, so I left you some coffee before I took off.”

Guzma was now sitting again, hunched over and hands clenched in his hair, “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck...I don’t remember tellin’ ya any a’ that...”

“Of course not. You were so hammered I doubt you would.”

He looked up, glaring furiously at the older man, “Ya didn’t repeat none of it right? “Cause I don’t need no one pryin’ into my shit or feelin’ sorry for me.”

“I didn’t. Frankly, what good would it do? You’ve already made yourself the most hated person in Alola. A tragic backstory wouldn’t make people despise you any less.”

Guzma smirked at that, “Heh, guess I have. What about you, old man? Do you despise me too?”

“No,” answered Nanu without hesitation, “You’re a pain in my ass sometimes but I don’t hate you.”

Chin resting in his hands, Guzma regarded him curiously. Though he was still quite hammered, he could tell Nanu was sincere with his words, a notion that both comforted but also greatly confused him; why would anyone not hate him? He could also feel the buzz beginning to wear off and realized he should be getting back before he ended up passing out on the couch again, or worse, blabbing any more about his youth. On the other hand, Nanu didn’t seem to care all that much that he had. Maybe he had found someone he could...

He squeezed his eyes shut. No.

Standing, he put on the biggest, most confident grin he could and gestured to the other two bottles he had brought, “Well, I better get home. Can’t leave the kids too long, ya know? They’ll rip the place apart, worse than it already is. Thanks for havin’ a beer with me.You can keep those. They’re on the house,” his smile faltered for just a second, “And uh, thanks for letting me know Arin’s okay. I’ll keep it to myself if ya keep the shit I said quiet, cool?”

Nanu nodded, “Of course.”

Guzma absently scratched at his neck, “That’s that I guess. Later, old man.”

“Yeah. Later.”

As he passed through the door, he heard Nanu say behind him, “Take care.” Before he could say thanks, it was followed with, “And sober up for Arceus sake.”

“Oh, bite me!” Guzma huffed, nearly slamming the door.

Nanu grinned smugly, gently scratching the Meowth that had come back and jumped into his lap.

[sleep-writing-blog]

New Year’s Eve

FRANSWEEK 2019 - Day 5: Special Event

A/N: I’m trying not to cry because I am rushing everything;;;

Words: 1300.

Warnings: Other ships (Tori/Asgore, Alphyne, Papyton) but this is Frans-centric, I swear.

— ✦ ✧✦✧ ✦ —

People and monsters alike scurried about and tried to ready the event floor before the guests arrived. One of them was Frisk, the human ambassador of the monsters, who was one of the guests-of-honour, in an attempt to better the relationship between humans and monsters.

It had been 3 months since monsterkind settled down alongside humans, and the journey had been rocky. The council accepted Frisk as the only one qualified to represent the monsters. A month of countless negotiations, projects and papers were duties that Frisk needed to tend to. As the sole ambassador, they’ve also been overseeing the integration of monsters into society, which meant random interviews from both parties. Frisk was – and still is – a very determined person. Combining that with the humongous workload meant they were constantly working themselves to the bone.

Not that Frisk could feel it, but the worried stares and advices from their friends to take a break reminded them. It was bad enough that Frisk had slept in a bus on the way home from work, and ended up in a completely different area than what they were accustomed to. By the start of the second month, it was arranged that everyone would help Frisk in every possible way. Papyrus would bring them food and drive them to work, Toriel and Asgore would help with diplomatic relations and other monster-related topics, while Alphys and Undyne kept them safe from less-than-cooperative individuals. When all has been said and done, Frisk would find Sans waiting for them outside of the building and they would take a shortcut home.

— ✦ ✧✦✧ ✦ —

Today was no different, with the exception that it was New Year’s Eve, and Frisk had to work overtime, while their friends made sure the event ran smoothly in their stead. The event was overnight and it made Frisk want to go home with their friends and spend a relaxing evening together. However, Frisks’ burning curiosity held them in place. They had no clue how everyone looked like in fancy clothing, and they had no clue how everyone acted then they were absolutely smashed. Either way, it would prove the event to be interesting and Frisk hadn’t had fun for a long while. With renewed energy, they continued to fix themselves up for a certain monster.

Frisk stood outside of the hall, waiting for the cue to be called into the area, then they stepped in. All eyes were on them, but their eyes were searching for someone else to no avail. Slightly disappointed, yet not surprised that Sans was absent, Frisk internally reprimanded themselves that they should’ve known better. Sans wasn’t one for parties, let alone being in a formal setting. It didn’t match with his easy-going personality. They politely made small talk and greeted guests who approached them as they made their way to their friends.

“Oh, my child! You look stunning! Is that not that right, Asgore?” Toriel nudged Asgore who nodded.

“Punk! Not bad! I thought you’d be coming here in your boring work clothes.” Undyne clapped their back as a form of a congratulation for being cool.

“U-Undyne, they’re one of the special guests. They have to dress up, like in one of those anime ball scenes.”

“Thank you, everyone. Where’s the rest?” Frisk really wanted to know where Sans was.

“Papyrus is trying to get the ‘fruit punch’. We thought we had to punch the fruits but it turned out that it was the name for the juice!”

“M-Mettaton is one of the performers so he might be backstage.”

“I am not sure where Sans is. He was not with Papyrus when he walked in. Maybe he thought the event didn’t suit him.”

Well, there goes their plan for Sans. Frisk knew Toriel was trying to cheer them up because she knew of their feelings for the comedic skeleton. “I thought so. It doesn’t tie well with his personality. Thanks for letting me know.”

“NYEH! CAN’T I GO ONE DAY WITHOUT YOUR INSUFFERABLE PUNS?” Papyrus chimed in as he brought them refreshments.

“’fraid not. Thanks for the drinks.” Frisk took one gulp to realise it was champagne. They really needed that or they won’t survive the night.

“Ugh, punk. I’m not gonna lie that this is boring. Is there something else other than waiting for the clock to turn to midnight?”

“There’s a tradition of kissing the first person you see or your datemate at midnight.”

“K-kissing?” Alphys blushed and peeked at Undyne, who winked at her in return. Frisk smiled. Toriel and Asgore went rigid. Frisk quickly continued.

“I don’t know the reason why but I think it’s a way of saying that you want to start the year with them. But some people choose to not do it, even if they’re single or not.” At this, they visibly relaxed.

“OH WOWIE! SHARING A KISS ON THE FIRST DAY OF THE YEAR!”

“That was… interesting to learn. Thank you for telling us, my child.” Toriel watched their reaction as Frisks’ smile dropped a little.

“No problem.” Frisk started to feel uncomfortable. “I think I’ll get something to eat.”

Frisk left, unsure how to handle the sudden gaping loneliness in their chest. They quickly headed for the balcony, their role abandoned. They took a deep breath to look up at the sky. There weren’t many stars compared to the first time Frisk showed Sans. Besides, their beloved star wasn’t there with them. They took out their phone, and their fingers flew across the screen and hovered over Sans’ number. Looking up, it indicated that it was 11:45PM, and it steeled their decision to call him.

“did you miss me?”

Frisk spun around and they realised they were so screwed. Who knew Sans looked good in suits? Frisk felt themselves burn. They were unsure if it was the champagne they had earlier or Sans in a suit had an effect on them. They tried to find their voice.

“I missed you.” Sans grinned even wider. Under the dim lighting, the blue tint dusting his cheeks went unnoticed. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming at all.”

“well, here i am. uh, I hope you didn’t wait long.”

“I was alone for the most of the event so I don’t know... How about we make up for lost time?” Frisk teased, a sly smile on their face.

“we have all night, what do you want?” Frisk thought for a while before they grabbed his arm.

“what are you doing?”

“Shut up and dance with me!” Frisk grinned, swaying to the music.

“if the lady says so, your wish is my command.”

Peals of laughter falls from Frisks’ lips as they danced in the garden, both of them soon realised that they couldn’t dance and instead made up their own dance along the way. They were so immersed in their own world that they didn’t realise they went far into the garden. Frisk didn’t care. They had Sans with them. A loud shout from the hall, pulled them both out of their trance. Breathless, Frisk shushed Sans and listened intently.

Five.

Frisks’ face lightened up. “Oh! They’re counting down!”

Four.

Sans became confused. “what’s important about that?”

Three.

“You’ll see. Just look at me first.”

Two.

Sans obliged.

One.

Frisk smashed their lips against Sans.

A loud bang overhead made Frisk pull away. The fireworks bathed both of them in light, painting them in different colours, and to Frisk, it couldn’t be any more perfect in that moment when they were both in each other’s arms. Frisk might as well have confessed right then and there, but they think they’ve conveyed it well enough because Sans was staring at them the same way they did on the night they saw the stars together on top of Mount Ebott.

“Happy New Year, Sans.”

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

Left to the Wolves

a/n: So i fininally finished this story which i’ve been working on all summer... it’s my first foray into the genre of a/b/o au so i hope you guys enjoy.  This chap is Hvits centric but there’s suggestion of Ubbe x reader and if this gets enough positive feed back, i will continue with a chap abt him!

warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, a bit of heavy handed persuasion but overall consented sexy times, like this is mostly smut cus im a perv like that... oral (fem receiving) and vaginal penetration, also a healthy competition between brothers. 

FF.net // Ao3 // Masterlist

Hvitserk X Reader // Vikings

word count: 2,445

As relaxing as the bath felt, it did nothing to relieve the sticky layer of perspiration that coated your skin. The sweat was provoked by a heat that came from within rather than the sun, a heat you had been trying to deny you were due for. Pulling the simple linen night dress over your head, you grabbed the hem to tap at your brow, hoping to dry it some but effectively doing nothing. No matter how much you tried to cool yourself, the moment your hands were idle your mind immediately snapped back to your hosts, Ragnar’s sons and your internal body temperature would spike.

You knew they had noticed, it was blatant they had caught a whiff of your budding heat when you spent that afternoon watching them train. Earlier in the week you had merely sat at the sidelines, spectating as they practiced, but today each of the brothers insisted on vying to hold your attention personally.

Hvitserk offered to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow, something you’d never cared to learn before. He quickly took advantage of the situation, crowding in behind you to rest his hands on your hips under the guise of adjusting your stance. Rearing your elbow back, you pulled the string taut as his breath fanned the nape of your neck—sending a shiver down your spine—when a movement from across the field caught your eye.

Casually, you turned your head thinking it was just the others wrestling when you noticed Ubbe tugging to remove his tunic. He discarded the garment somewhere to the side as he strode back towards the makeshift ring where Sigurd waited. He met your gaze and flashed a wink, smirking before slapping his chest and settling into a starting pose. You watched the way he bent over, hands at the ready to deflect his brother’s attacks when your grip went completely lax, launching the arrow absently into the dirt.

Hvitserk’s laugh tickled at your ear, bringing you back to your present position, his hands still firm on your hips, holding you in place pressed against his chest. “You need to remember to keep your eyes on the prize, Princess,” he teased in a low voice only you could hear.

For the rest of the day you could think of nothing besides the warmth of Hvitserk behind you, his strong hands keeping you still. At the same time you found your mind wandering to his older brother, Ubbe, and to the way the sun radiated off his skin, highlighting the lean muscles he’d cultivated since your last visit when you were still a child.

That night you followed your mother and Queen Aslaug to dinner, finding all of the princes already seated at the table. Your approach caught their attention and both Hvitserk and Ubbe stood, abruptly sliding their chairs away to greet you as their younger brothers remained sitting. Aslaug and your mother took their respective seats at the head of the table and across from your intended destination. It had been a few days now that you’d occupied the spot situated between Ubbe and Hvitserk at every meal, but there was a light in both their eyes tonight that you couldn’t ignore as they ushered you into your chair.

The dinner was pleasant enough despite Ivar’s unsolicited and spiteful comments. In fact, you barely noticed the bitterness of the youngest and third Alpha in the family, having no idea that his sour mood was inspired by the same scent that brought his older brothers to battle for your attention.

Ubbe and Hvitserk were both eager to offer you more bread or mead, each  making sure your plate was full before you could even reply. You were utterly overwhelmed by their hospitality, unsure of how to properly respond while also fawning at the onslaught of affection. You could barely eat under the watchful gaze of the two brothers. They were much more obvious about the competition then they had been earlier that afternoon. Throughout the meal they strove to outdo the other—whether it be through tales or kind acts.

Once you had finished eating, you were quick to excuse yourself, providing the need for a bath as the reason. As you rested in the warm water, you attempted to relieve some of the tension with your own hand, a tactic you often used before. Though before you’d never been in heat around so many Alphas, and it seemed the more time you spent with them, the more painful it was to resist. You wanted to fling yourself into their willing arms without hesitation and let them do as they pleased, marking you as theirs forever.

Unable to find release alone, you let out a frustrated snarl and gave the surface of the water a slap as if it was the bath’s fault you felt worse than before. You ultimately climbed out of the water before your fingers became too wrinkled, drying yourself and dressing for bed.

With a sigh you dropped the hem of your nightshirt back over your body when something behind you creaked. You spun on your heel, finding the door ajar and Hvitserk standing on the other side, his hand holding the latch as a smirk grew on his face.

“How long have you been there?” You exclaimed, hands flying to protectively cover your chest, forgetting you were already dressed.

“Long enough,” he shrugged as he crossed the threshold to your room, making sure to shut the door tightly behind him, clicking the lock closed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you stated in what you hoped was a strong voice, but even you couldn’t deny the waiver at the end. “If-if my mother knew, she’d—,”

Hvitserk’s smile cut you off. “You see, I’ve been thinking about that,” Hvitserk began, slowly moving closer as you tried to match his steps in reverse, backing away until your thighs butted up against the edge of the table where you ate breakfast. “If your mother cares so much, why did she bring you to Kattegat—where she knew there were young alphas—when you would be in heat? Why are you in a room by yourself, with such a large bed, if you weren’t meant to share it?” His jovial expressing and tone seemed kind enough, but you could sense the edge to it. You could see his scheme but something in you found it logical—maybe it was the part of you that wanted him so—but suddenly it seemed to make since why your mother kept dismissing you, telling you to spend time with the Ragnarssons while she and Aslaug did needle work.

His hand found your waist again, squeezing your curves harder than he had while teaching you to shoot. Leaning to the side, Hvitserk dropped his head, nuzzling into the crook of you neck, inhaling your scent with a groan. Your fingers squeezed his shoulders, making a futile effort to resist as you melted into his touch.

“I’m not supposed too—,” your voice trailed into a moan as his lips made contact with your skin.

“Stop fighting,” Hvitserk hissed, finally crashing his mouth against yours. You tongues wrestled as his left hand dropped to cup your thigh, lifting your knee to curl around his waist as he lifted you to sit on the table. You leaned back, resting on your elbows to take in the way he loomed over you, his large palm slowly traveling up your side from your leg until he came to engulf you breast.

With a tilt of his head, he studied the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the way the linen of your nightshirt clung to the sticky sweat on your skin. Reveling in the softness of your flesh under his his grasp, he unconsciously jutted his hips into yours, letting his hard length prod at your inner thigh.

Hvitserk mumbled something before lifting his head to repeat himself, “I want you.” His green eyes held yours as he stilled on top of you. “I need you. Please say you want me.”

You responded without words, snaking your fingers across the nape of his neck, pulling him forward. He easily took the hint, shifting to press against you before he suddenly went stiff. Drawing away, he looked over his shoulder just as there was a knock on the door.

“Go away Ubbe,” Hvitserk barked with a sly grin. You laid frozen beneath him, slowly processing what was happening as he chuckled, “You’re too late.”

There was a still moment of silence as the pair of you waited for an angry retort but as the minutes grew it was obvious Ubbe had left—for now. Hvitserk could barely resist himself, anxiously inching his hands under your bottom. He tensed his fingers, squeezing as he began to pull back. Stepping away, Hvitserk grabbed your hand, leading you away from your perch on the table.

He backed you to the mattress, crowding against you as his palm came to hold your cheek. “It would be a shame if this big bed went to waste,” he teased as he lead you to lay flat atop the furs. You were like putty in his hands, allowing him to maneuver you limbs to the right place as he pleased, settling so your arms were pinned above your head.

Pawing at the hem of your skirt with his free hand, he drew the fabric higher, revealing the apex of your thighs. The deep groan he released at the sight of your sopping mound resonated in your bones. Silently, you longed for contact, jutting your hips towards his, begging for some kind of stimuli.

Slowly he dipped his fingers between your lips, easily finding your bud of nerves. With a brazen swipe, he rolled the nub under his touch, eliciting a moan from you lips with each rock. Grinning to himself Hvitserk watched the way you fell apart under him, knowing that every sound that crossed your lips came without hesitation. You bucked into his grasp, urging his hand to slide lower. He swirled his digits, skimming just around where you wanted him most before he began to shift. Inching his knees back, Hvitserk dove forward, burying his face between your thighs. His tongue and lips took over where his fingers had been as he laved at your hole, giving you everything but what you needed for release.

“Stop, stop,” you panted, tugging at his braids to pull his face away, overwhelmed by the presence of his tongue. Your cunt ached for him and his mouth only increased the want til it was unbearable. “Please,” your voice came out breathy and eager as you begged. “Please, I need your cock inside me.”  

The look in his eye only stoked the fire within your gut, leading you to whine for his touch. Kneeling back he wrestled with his tunic as your fingers tugged at the lancing of his pants, too impatient to wait for him to finish. Kicking off his boots he slid his trousers down his lean legs, discarding them aimlessly before turning back to you. His prick stood proud and ready, bobbing slightly as he moved—the tip an angry purple.

You mouth watered at the sight before you, a fresh pang of desire flooding your senses. Lacing your fingers into the roots of his hair, you pulled him forward as you laid back, letting your knees fall open. Hvitserk pumped himself while lining the head with your entrance. In a single hard thrust, he sank into you easily.

Clenching around him you reveled in everything you wanted but had been denying yourself. He drew back before slamming against you, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing in the air with your moans as he kept up a brutal pace. Hvitserk wrapped his arms around your ribs, holding you tight as you clutched at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving red lines as they dug in to his skin.

Maneuvering his legs, he pushed himself to roll onto his back, dragging you to straddle his waist. Sitting up you rested your hands flat on his chest, bracing yourself as you reared back, pushing your ass backwards to swallow the entirety of his prick, swollen knot included. You could feel Hvitserk’s grip tighten as your hips came to touch his, pausing for a moment to adjust to the way his knot stretched your walls so deliciously.

A stuttered moan leaked from Hvitserk’s mouth as you began to roll your hips, grinding so that your clit hit his pelvic bone with every pass. You were so distracted by the feeling of his cock inside you, you hadn’t even realized the filth that he had been cooing to you.

“You like that don’t you?” he chided as you raised your eyes to meet his. “You feel fucking perfect, I can barely hold back.”

“Then don’t—,” you whined in response, blushing at the dark grin that slid across his face.

“You want me to ruin you, huh?” He began, digging his fingers into your ass, spreading your cheeks as his lifted you. “You want me to come inside you, to fill you with pups?” Grounding his heals into the bed he began to thrust upwards at a steady but teasing pace. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want it and I’ll give you everything.”

“Yes, I want it. I want your cum so bad, please fill me,” you begged without thought or hesitation in a high pitched, wanton voice that nearly threw him over the edge. Hvitserk grabbed at your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your neck to his teeth as he pounded into you in an unyielding rhythm. Your soft flesh bounced as he nipped along your throat. He could feel the moment your body let go, the walls of your cunt spasming around him as your limbs shook, overwhelmed by the liquid ecstasy that flowed so freely through you.

Hvitserk followed soon after, his own body tensing as he fulfilled his promise to release his seed deep within you. Finally giving up on using your arms for support, you collapse to his chest—still trying you gather you conscious thoughts.

Shifting, you move to roll off from on top Hvitserk, but he was quick to keep you in place the moment he felt the slightest tug on his over inflated knot. “Not so fast,” he chuckles, drawing his arms tighter around your ribs. “You think I’m letting you go this soon after getting you? I'm not done here tonight.” Your response was a content purr, accepting your fate for the evening as you nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.

Hope you enjoyed! please tell me what you thought!

@beautifulramblingbrains @ariwolf14 @titty-teetee @whenimaunicorn @sweetvengeancee @ivarinleatherpants @tiyetiye @romanchronicles @oddsnendsfanfic @murmelinchen @buckybarnesisalittleshit @laketaj24 @ivarslittlebadgirl @readsalot73 @imgoldielikehawn @ivarsshieldmadien @ceridwenofwales​ @grungyblonde​ @honestsycrets @lisinfleur [[if you want to be tagged for vikings stuff in the future, leave a reply]]

[elizadoolittlethings]

My First Fanfiction Attempt

Here goes. It is Molly’s side of the story. AU Sherlock tv series. Not sure of the rating - probably teen up. Definitely Mycroft-centric. Definitely happy ending. Early 18th or 19th century. mix of Pride and Prejudice - not at all (only the misunderstandings), Robin Hood [ :) well sort of] . Inspired by many of AO3 authors, mostly ylc, starrysummernights, ... will add more later. [there was a fairy tale AU where john and sherlock rescue princess molly from a tower. i never pay attention to names!! will search and add - GOT IT!! - The White Tower and the Winding Stair by CherryBlossomTide for what_alchemy] AND . MANY MORE.

It is more of a ... prologue (?). Posting before I chicken out. Also hope to continue and not abandon since I have already posted the beginning.

Had a tough time bringing out the thoughts to words.

I literally practised this - of course mentally! To clear my head. Hope it is worth reading.

Do comment - however discouraging it may seem. Especially since I have never been outside my hometown, and, all my ideas come from movies and my high school history knowledge. {For eg. ‘hackney’ - not sure if it is the right word for my idea of the vehicle in my story - a horse drawn, canvas roofed cart,I’d say. Apologies for all the loop-holes.}

keep reading if you want to. if you don’t, still keep reading ;)

[just the beginning of a long story]

{maybe not that long}

so sorry. i don’t know how to edit without re-blogging. and i don’t want to reblog. so adding the whole thing again!

Princess Molly and The Banker

Chapter 1 - The Beginning of a Journey

Molly woke up to the nudge on her shoulder and the whisper in her ear - recognising the voice - “My Lady! Wake up. Wakeup! We’ve to leave!”

It was Mary, her maid , her guard, her childhood companion. Someone she, and her father trusted with their life.

Something was definitely wrong.

Silently Molly allowed Mary to bundle her into clothes of a man - shirt, trousers, boots, cloak. They took the secret stairs behind her wardrobe. It led to an underground passage and into the woods behind the castle.

A hackney was waiting for them. As Molly climbed into the back she heard Mary whispering to the man beside the horse. Slowly she recognised the silhouette - it was Sir John, second in command to Captain Lestrade, the King’s commanding officer.

She desperately wanted to ask them why he was not with her father, the King, protecting him! But knew she was expected to follow, not ask questions and cause a delay.

Although only 14 yrs old, Lady Molly Hooper was far more intelligent and capable than any of her friends. Not that she had any - friends! They treated her with respect for after all she is the Princess of Astoria, only daughter of King Edward Hooper. Even if most of them felt that she was not normal, with her obsession with taking care of injured animals, reading books on medicine and death! Death! She seemed fascinated by poisons and decomposition of the body. That was definitely not normal!

Molly’s thoughts of her life in the castle were turned to the movement of the hackney. Mary had joined her at the back, and they were off in a hurry. She was jolted from side to side but held on to the beam passing along the canvas roof. Her thoughts strayed to the castle, her father. She shut them down. Concentrated on the twists and turns of the path ahead.

The forest was her only friend, with Mary as her companion, while she explored - memorising plants from the hefty books that Mary carried in a small cart, as Molly searched for specimens to use in the small room her father had ordered set up for her. He loved his daughter, more when her mother passed away from a fever that had taken more lives in his kingdom than any battle. His loss though hidden was obvious to his quiet daughter. Molly was determined to find the cause for this ‘plague’ that had taken so many precious lives. And her father indulged her, much to the discomfort of his councillors - who thought that a Princess’ role was to be presentable in court, and make a good Queen when the time came.

Half-way through the journey Molly started losing the orientation of the path. They were heading deeper into the woods - farther than she had ever been. Slowly the rocking of their vehicle lulled her into a doze that she found hard to resist. She needed to remain alert, study the path, note the relevant pieces that would help her re-trace the way back to the castle. Not that she did not trust John or Mary. It had become a force of habit - memorising everything that fell in her field - of vision.

Not sure for how long she had slept, Molly heard the whispered arguments of her companions and decided to get out and see where they were. It was still dark, they were at the border of the woods, and all she could see ahead was fog. Her movement had alerted her guards and Mary came running to her “My Lady. Please remain inside. It is not yet safe for you to come into the open.”

Frustrated but practical, Molly nodded and sat inside, waiting for John and Mary to finish their discusion and continue with their journey. As she cuddled into the fur blanket that was spread out on the make-shift bed at the floor of the hackney, something hard touched her head. She leapt up, silently, and focussed her gaze on the object hidden under the fur. The outline was definitely familiar. It was her log-book : the one she carried with her wherever she went. All her work was detailed in it. As she slowly placed the bookon her lap the hackney shifted under the weight of Mary who climbed in to join her. They started moving again.

Mary watched her caress the book and smiled. It was the only personal item that she could collect given the circumstances. Yet, she knew Molly would prefer this to all the treasures her father had bestowed upon her over the years.

———~———

The slowing of the hackney woke her up. Molly watched Mary jump out and run ahead. She held the book close to her chest, seeking comfort for her racing heart.

John slowed the horse and got down, leading them closer to what looked like a barn.

He tied the horse to a pole and came to the back to help Molly get down. Seeing her questioning look John held a ffinger to his lips, watching Molly nod in understanding, and led her into the barn. Settling her in a corner with the blankets around, he signaled her to wait while he went out.

She was too tired to even think of the reasons for all this secretiveness. And too anxious to sleep. So all she could do was wait even if not patiently.

The sound of more than a pair of boots on the gravel outside made her crouch into the hay.

“Where is she? AAh. My lady, please allow me to escort you inside,” the voice was deep, touching her heart like a well sung sonata. Yet she did not dare peek at her interlocutor.

A strong hand with thin long fingers grasped her elbow firmly and fluidly pulled her up. As Molly rose up from between the hay she looked up to see a tall man with curly hair, strong chin, high cheek-bones, long neck, dressed in a tight shirt and breeches and boots. Her head reached only his chest. In the dark she couldn’t see his eyes. His breath was steady and he was watching her intently.

Trying to gather all information about the stranger, she did not register the other voices behind the man. Like a fog being displaced my the sun, her clouded mind cleared on hearing the slightly admonishing tone of Mary. She tried to look over the stranger’s shoulder but couldn’t budge.

“Well, you do want me to keep her safe, don’t you John?” he asked.

“Of course we bloody do, Sherlock! But, don’t frighten her into running away! That’s not very good now, is it?” John replied.

“Hmph. She doesn’t look like the running type.” “ Shall we, Princess?” saying so, the stranger Sherlock walked past them out of the barn.

“Don’t worry. He is a Good Man. You’ll be safe here, till John can bring more news from the castle” Mary assured her Lady.

“What happened? Is Father alright? When will I see him again?” Molly started babbling as she was led into a small single storied house by Mary, John following them. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

———~———

The front door was open. As they stepped in Molly could hear the faint sound of music- violin, behind the closed door to the left of what looked like the only room in the house - there was a fire-place, next to which stood what looked like a shelf that held kitchen utensils. This was at the far right of the rectangular room, where there was a window with a ledge that had books, writng paper, and some cushions. Right in front of the fire-place was large chair looking cozy with a rug and more books on the floor beside it. There was a large table in the middle of the room that was covered with pans and jars and more books.

Next to the door in the left corner of the room was a make-shify bed that looke more like a wooden board covered with a rug and a few blankets. There was a stand covered with books next to it. A candle was burning on the stand and there was a quill that was resting on a parchment paper.

Molly slowly realised that what was resting on top of the books was actually a skull, and, looked human! She had seen the remains of a baby in the forest, and Mary had mentioned that sometimes when a woman gave birth to a still-born, the father would bury the child in the forest, and not in the graveyard of the church. This was to let the spirit of the child be free to wander in the woods and not be bullied by the other ghosts.

Though Molly never belived her and knew that Mary was hiding something, the fact was she loved fantasies and this only fueled her imaginations.

As she slowly approached the skull the door opened with a bang and Sherlock moved in a flash to the pots and pans on the shelves.

“What would you like to have?Soup?”

John exchanged a glance with Mary. “I’ll worry about the food.”

Sherlock merely looked at him as if he was a disturbance and fell into the chair by the fire.

“Why don’t we get you settled, my Lady?” Mary asked Molly.

Molly looked at her not sure what she meant. She was led by Mary through the door to the stable right behind the house where on the floor was a trap door that she lifted to reveal stairs. A faint glow lit the stairs. Molly followed her companion down the stairs to a small room that had a bed, a shelf for clothes, a basin and a jug full of water, also a table with books and writing equipment.

The room had walls and floor that were covered in wooden beams - probably to keep the chill out. There were pipes running along the ceiling. Molly wondered what they were for.

“You’d best change into something more comfortable, my Lady.” Mary was already taking out a few clothes from a bag that sat on one of the shelves.

Molly walked over to her, held her trembling hand and slowly turned her to look directly into her eyes “Tell me. You know I would rather know the truth than avoid it. Please. In the name of our friendship, if you truly are devoted to the King, please!”

There was unshed tears in her eyes.

Molly was never one to interefere when she knew she was expected to remain silent. But this was about her father! Her Kingdom! She held on to Mary’s hand steadily.

Mary nodded and led her to the bed. She still carried the bag of clothes. “These are John’s. Will fit you, even if a little loose. Why don’t you change first. After I promise to tell you everything.”

Sighing, Molly rose to her feet and started shedding the clothes she had hastily worn earlier in the night. “What time do you think it is?” she asked in a whisper.

“Almost daylight” Mary answered as she helped her remove her petticoat.

Mary moved to a corner where a wooden board was covering what looked like the beginning of the pipe that ran along the roof. Removing the lid she placed the jug of water on the iron plate that was revealed. The water slowly started heating. Mary dipped a piece of cloth in the water and gave it to Molly who wiped herself. After ensuring that she was clean Mary took the jug, closed the iron plate with the wooden lid and washed the rag in the basin. After wiping Molly’s hair with the damp cloth, Mary helped her into the clean clothes.

“I’ll wash your petticoat and dry it. We’ll have to improvise since there is no spare.” Mary refused to maitain eye-contact. That was not a good sign.

Molly sat on the bed waiting for Mary to finally run out of excuses.

“Lord Magnussen was heard threatening the King by John. Not sure about the details. John approached Captain Gregory, who’d said that the King is in his debt and owes the Lord quite a large sum. Since he’s in good terms with King Moriarty, of Snowdonia, John feels  …” Mary paused, not sure if she should complete the thought.

“That Moriarty might attack? Like he captured Snowdonia?” Molly completed the sentence in her head, not realising that she had whispered it aloud. “But, Pembrokeshire is so far away! Unless he has the help of the neighbouring kingdoms …”

“Lord Magnussen has too many nobles in his debt. It’s not safe for you in the castle ‘till we are sure of his motives. Trust John. He’ll be off to the castle by now. W’may have to wait for a day or two. He’s promised to get back to us by then with any new developments. If it’s safe, we can return immediately.” Mary tried, her voice not convincing enough.

But Molly was a practical girl. She never was carried away by fanciful thoughts. “Let us go eat” saying so, she rose from the bed, determined not to give more trouble than she already had - which was inevitable, considering the fact that the fate of her Kingdom rested on her head. Mary may be doing her duty, but she knew that Mary was more like an elder sister to her. She was cared for deeply, and knew that Mary would give her life to protect her Lady.

———~———

definitely mollcroft. for a moment thought sherlolly/mollock. but, mycroft is always my favourite, so....

hope it is worth the effort to continue!

A Map of Wales

[archetypical-series]

The Princess Story - Part 3

The cloaked man continued riding in silence for several minutes. Clutching Elizabeth, he looked back behind them to make sure they were no longer being chased. He saw no one.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Elizabeth said impatiently. She was gradually becoming more scared, but tried not to show it. “Where are you taking me?”

“You will see for yourself soon enough-”

“Look out!”

Seriously, can I do a single cutaway without this guy popping back in to steal the scene? I know this is kind of a Deejay-centric story, but still...

Flying in from a nearby alleyway, Deejay skidded to a stop right in front of the horse.

“End of the line!”

The horse stopped abruptly and reared in surprise, throwing both riders off of its back. Deejay dove to catch Elizabeth. The cloaked man hit the ground with a hard thump. Deejay made the catch and managed to break the princess' fall as they tumbled to the ground. When the dust cleared, Elizabeth found herself sprawled on top of her rescuer, with his hand accidentally pressed against her chest. Knowing him, I'm willing the believe that actually happened. I'm not willing to believe it was an accident.

“Oh my...”

She blushed, but didn't pull away. Deejay coughed and gingerly slid out from under her. Panting, he stood up and offered his hand to help her up, which she accepted.

“You okay, Highness?” He asked between attempts to catch his breath. “No injuries?”

She smiled politely. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, kind stranger. However, I would like to know who you are and why you were following us.”

“The name’s Deejay.” He stood up a bit straighter, but was still panting. “I’m just an admirer, eager to meet you up close... Forgive me, Lady Elizabeth, but I must say… your astonishing beauty really takes my breath away.”

She laughed and smiled at him.

“You flatter me, Sir Deejay. I don't suppose your shortness of breath would have anything to do with your running half-way across the city.”

“Nope. Pretty sure it's you... You know, you don't seem very scared, given the situation you were just in.”

“Oh, I'm quite alright. I get kidnapped all the time.”

“Huh... We lose more princesses that way, I guess.”

“Still, I’ve never witnessed such speed, and courage. You must be a knight of some sort.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Heh. Of some sort, sure.”

A few feet away, the cloaked man finally started to sit up, groaning in pain. Deejay walked up next to him, striking a victory pose and putting on a corny smile.

“Good work, gang. Now, let’s see who the cloaked kidnapper really is!”

He threw back the hood of the man's cloak, revealing his face. The man was older, maybe in his fifties, with a gray beard and a superficial scar across his nose. Elizabeth was genuinely shocked.

“Captain Archer?! Is that really you?”

The man sighed and nodded solemnly.

Deejay turned to her, confused. “You know this guy?”

“He is the captain of the Royal Guard. But how? Captain, you are a Revolutionary?”

He shook his head. “I would never betray the crown, milady. No, I was ordered by the King to capture you, pretending to be a Revolutionary.”

“My father ordered this?” The confusion on her face mixed with frustration. “But… why?”

“To teach you a lesson, I suppose.” With some difficulty, Archer slowly stood up. “He thinks you are too carefree, going out in public on your own, sometimes without waiting for the guards to escort you. He thought putting a bit of a scare into you might be enough to convince you to stay out of trouble.”

She gritted her teeth. “Argh! Oh, that is just like Father, isn’t it? He simply refuses to believe I can take care of myself. I’ll always be a helpless child in his eyes.”

“I can't speak to his opinion of you, Your Highness. However, my spies had just received word that the Revolutionaries were planning to attack today, and it seems they are out for blood. By the time I received the news, you had already left the castle. I thought the King’s idea to stage a kidnapping would help keep you safe, as well as teach you to be more careful.”

Deejay scratched his head awkwardly. “Well, you definitely made a very convincing kidnapper. I, uh, guess I owe you an apology, Captain.”

“No no, it's alright.” Captain Archer replied. “Whoever you are, stranger, your actions were most admirable, albeit ill-informed.”

“Just the same, I’m sorry about the mix-up. Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“There is no need. Now then, I must see the princess safely back to the castle, but I imagine the king will want to meet the young man who so bravely defended his daughter-”

Just then, there was the sudden whoosh of a projectile cutting through the air. The captain staggered forward; a crossbow bolt was sticking out of his back near the shoulder blade. He grunted and dropped to his knees.

“Captain!” Elizabeth rushed to the wounded captain's side.

“What the…?”

Deejay looked around to determine where the shot had come from. Just down the otherwise empty street, a disheveled man with an unkempt beard stepped forward, aiming a small crossbow at the captain. He wore plain brown clothing and a bronze pendant around his neck. Two similarly dressed men stepped out from the alleyway to Deejay's left, each of them wearing a similar pendant, each holding their own crossbow. Elizabeth's eyes were wide with fright.

“Revolutionaries... Real ones.”

“Stay down, dog,” one of the men barked. “It's just the princess we want.”

“Grrh…” The captain slumped against the wall of a nearby building, cursing under his breath. Elizabeth tried to help him up but he pushed her away.

“Leave me,” he said. “Protect yourself.”

Deejay looked uneasily around at the three men as they advanced, but held his ground. Elizabeth nervously hid behind him as best she could. The leader of the group strode forward confidently. His accomplices inched closer from the alleyway, attempting to surround Deejay and Elizabeth.

“Surrender,” the leader said.

Deejay smirked reflexively. “You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.”

Understandably, no one looked amused.

“Sir, please don’t do this,” Elizabeth pleaded. “Whatever it is you desire, you’ll get it. You don’t have to hurt anyone else.”

“You are a foolish little girl, Princess,” the leader continued. “As foolish as your father. It has become clear that the only thing that will make him see the error of his ways is the blood of his family spilled out upon the ground.”

He reloaded his crossbow, and pointed it toward Elizabeth.

“And on this day, it seems that blood will be yours.”

Deejay held his hands up. “Look you guys, whatever problems you have with the king, killing her isn't going to solve anything. You're just creating more problems. So how about you just let her go, alright?”

The leader pointed his weapon toward Deejay. “You dare stand in the way of the revolution? So be it. For the good of the people, I will personally kill the both of you.”

Deejay glanced around rapidly, his pulse quickening again. “Well... You’ll have to catch us first!”

Before anyone could react, Deejay turned and swept Elizabeth up in his arms, then took off running like he'd been shot out of a cannon. The two closest revolutionaries were caught off-guard as he flew past them. The leader fired after Deejay but missed.

“Get the horses! Don't let them escape!”

Deejay raced down the street and turned back onto the main road toward the merchant district, still carrying Elizabeth in his arms like a bride over the threshold. They gained a few hundred yards head start, but Deejay's breathing was getting heavier and he was starting to sweat profusely. His pace began to slow.

“Why are you slowing down?” Elizabeth asked, alarmed.

“I'm sorry...” Deejay panted. “This is... a lot harder... than it looks.”

Elizabeth looked behind them. In the distance, she could see the revolutionaries giving chase on horseback.

“You have to hurry! They're going to catch us!

“I can’t… keep... running... like this...” Deejay was desperately sucking in breaths between words. As with most people, he wasn't used to carrying a conversation mid-sprint. “We gotta… lose ‘em… somehow…”

Deejay looked around frantically, and he spotted an open manhole down the street.

“There! The aqueducts.”

“What? That’s a sewage tunnel! You’re not taking me down there. It’s disgusting! My dress will be ruined.”

“You have a better suggestion?!”

He stopped at the hole. From where he stood he could see the murky black water down below. He braced himself for what was coming next and held Elizabeth close.

“Watch your head.”

Deejay jumped down into the manhole, falling almost twenty feet. He landed on his feet, and to his great relief, on a grimy stone walkway that ran along the wall of the tunnel above the river of sewage. As the revolutionaries approached, Deejay moved into the shadows away from the hole. The horses came to a stop nearby. Deejay and Elizabeth held their breaths, both to remain silent and to spare themselves somewhat from the smell all around them. The revolutionaries lingered a moment longer, until the leader shouted some indistinct orders to the others, and the group rode off in another direction.

Deejay gave a sigh of relief, took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it and buried his nose in the shoulder padding of Elizabeth's dress, which she allowed while she held the sleeve of her dress over her own nose. Deejay looked around the darkened tunnel, allowing his eyes to adjust. Their surroundings definitely looked like a primitive sewer system. The stone walkway they stood on seemed to follow the entire length of the tunnel. Sensing they were safe for the moment, Deejay started to set Elizabeth down.

“No!” she protested. “I can’t set foot down here. This floor is filthy. Do you have the slightest idea how expensive these shoes are?”

“Seriously? My arms are killing me here.”

“Please, just carry me a while longer. We’re not terribly far from the edge of the city. I'm sure we can escape from there.”

“Alright, alright. Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

Reluctantly, he began trudging down the tunnel. Exhaustion was beginning to set in, but he continued onward dutifully carrying Elizabeth. He probably considered copping a feel again, if only there were any sensation left in his arms.

[ceruleanvulpine]

going back to these earlier tags too because YEAH:

#very fun intersection of him knowing what the correct answer most in line with his values is#with the bit where he's just wildly unqualified to do that#you've got a#sims playing alcohol abusing vengeful god in the midst of a depressive episode#taking a deep breath and attempting a child centric approach#he's not going to be good at it!#he is also not going to immediately murder her to fuck over his enemies tho so he's still winning#for now!

I will laugh so hard if it turns out that John is making a sincere effort at being a decent parent and it's such an awful outcome for Gideon that I feel like it's plausible. He's giving off such man who thinks of himself as a good guy confronted with oops baby vibes.