#wasted most of my time tonight looking for tools i knew we had

[quietblizzard]

Well, I got a little bit done.

[sweetteaanddragons]

Innocence

Nolofinwe’s first thought was that Feanaro had sired another son and neglected to mention it.

A second thought dismissed this as ridiculous, given a moment’s comparison between the age of the child (halfway to adolescence) and the length of time Feanaro had previously been able to resist announcing that he had another child (half a breath).

His second thought was that Curufinwe had sired a child, but given that then he would have had to miss both a birth and a marriage announcement, he was inclined to doubt it.

“I did say Atar was unavailable for a reason,” Pityo said helpfully from behind him.

“No,” Nolofinwe said after another moment of stunned silence spent exchanging stares with a bright eyed and half sized Feanaro, “you said, and I quote, “Atar is unavailable for - reasons.” Forgive me for assuming you were just trying to get rid of me.”

Feanaro had hopped up to perch on the scarred wood of his much abused workbench, presumably so he could continue the staring contest from a more equitable position. “Why do we want to get rid of you?” he asked. “Who are you, anyway?”

Nolofinwe blinked.

He wasn’t quite sure which sentence had hit him harder. It was probably better not to think about it.

“He doesn’t know who I am either,” Pityo in a voice that was clearly trying to substitute manic cheer for sanity. “I think an experiment went wrong.”

“How do you know it went wrong?” Feanaro demanded. “Maybe I was trying to do this.”

Well, at least some things hadn’t changed. “But we are accepting the premise that this was an experiment.”

Pityo looked helplessly around Feanaro’s workroom, with its profusion of strange tools, unidentifiable substances, and suspicious jewelry, as if to ask, What else could it be?

“That’s what the - my notes say,” Feanaro said, and the stumble revealed the first hint of uncertainty in this whole mess. “I think.”

Nolofinwe snatched up the closest sheaf of papers.

It immediately became apparent why Feanaro had not been able to make that statement with any more certainty.

“He’s developed another system of writing,” he said blankly. It was not quite a question. “Wasn’t coming up with one enough?”

Feanaro brightened. “I made a new system of writing? What’s it like? Will you show me?”

“It’s not a whole new system,” Pityo said at the same time. “It’s just his code. I suppose . . . “ And he gestured helplessly again, this time at his miniaturized father.

“I recognize some of it,” Feanaro said defensively. “And I figured out some of the rest. I’m sure I’ll get it eventually.”

“He’s stuck like this until he can decode his own notes?”

Pityo shook his head. “Curufinwe should be able to decode it. Probably. He taught it to all of us, it’s just . . . been a while.”

“He said I have seven sons,” Feanaro said. He sounded enormously impressed by this information. “Are you one of them?”

It took a lifetime of controlling his expression in court not to choke.

“No,” Pityo said, sounding horrified.

Nolofinwe was not particularly eager to hear how one of Feanaro’s sons would explain him.

“I’m your brother,” he said. “Nolofinwe.”

He was not at all prepared for the way Feanaro glowed.

Or for the way Feanaro flung himself off the worktable and wrapped himself around Nolofinwe like the octopus Arafinwe had once shown him.

Before Nolofinwe could react, Feanaro had already clambered up, tiny limbs jabbing into Nolofinwe and awkwardly pulling at the jewels pinned to his court finery, until Feanaro had secured himself firmly on Nolofinwe’s back, pointy chin digging into his head.

“There,” Feanaro said triumphantly. “Now I’m taller than you again.”

“Again?” Nolofinwe asked, automatically adjusting his grip on Feanaro’s legs to keep him from falling. He was abruptly thankful that Pityo had managed to dig up some child sized clothes before he got here.

“You’re my little brother,” Feanaro said matter-of-factly. “I’m taller than you.”

Nolofinwe was, in fact, about a hands-width taller than Feanaro, a fact that he was privately and perhaps bit embarrassingly proud of.

He resisted the urge to share this fact with his currently younger half-brother.

This bit of maturity was helped by the fact that he was still processing the look on Feanaro’s face when he had found out who Nolofinwe was to him.

He took a deep breath. “Back to our most urgent concern,” he said. “If Curufinwe is the only one who can translate these notes, where is he?”

Pityo bit his lip. “Out with the others, probably. We were all helping Makalaure set up for his performance at the festival tonight. I just came back to grab something and found . . . “

“Me,” Feanaro said, small arms temporarily squeezing tighter in their grip.

“Right,” Nolofinwe said. He resisted the urge to rub between his eyes. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why you were trying to make yourself younger in the first place? I assume you intended to keep your memories while you did so, but that still doesn’t explain the rest of it.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” For once, Feanaro’s voice wasn’t smug, just matter of fact. “I was probably trying to figure out how to make other things younger and just tested it out on myself.”

“But why? We already have the means to preserve items - “

“But not animals,” Feanaro said, one arm releasing him so he could wave it excitedly. “Or we don’t, at least, and I bet you don’t either. If I could make this work, then people could have horses or cats that they’d never have to lose.” His voice was passionate with excitement for a project that wasn’t even really his, and for all the distance and anger between them, Nolofinwe didn’t have to wonder even for a moment why.

“But did you have to try it on yourself first?” he asked instead even though, rationally speaking, it was a waste of time to direct the question to Feanaro just now.

“I don’t think he did,” Pityo said. “There’s a loaf of bread on the table that I’m pretty sure was stale this morning, and when I opened the door to come in here, a kitten ran out. This was just . . . the next logical step.”

Nolofinwe gave him a flat look. Pityo jerked his chin up stubbornly.

Feanaro tugged on the collar of his robes to regain his attention. “Aren’t you even a little impressed, Nolo? I turned back time!”

“Of course it’s impressive,” he said, automatically reassuring. It had the benefit of also being true. “It’s just also insane.”

Feanaro was apparently not bothered by the second part of this because he settled back down almost immediately, pointy chin once again burrowing into Nolofinwe’s shoulder.

Pityo looked about to protest, but apparently he didn’t want Feanaro’s pointy chin any closer to his own shoulders because he kept his objections to himself. “Look,” he said instead. “I’ll go get Curufinwe and bring him back here to start working on things. I would have gone earlier, but I couldn’t leave him alone.”

And the last thing they needed was for word of this to spread around Tirion, which went unsaid.

Technically, of course, he was one of the people such word would have been kept from; there were a half dozen plans that could be pushed forward in the court with infinitely more ease with the knowledge that Feanaro would not be interfering for the foreseeable future, and Pityo knew it.

But it was hard to think of that while Feanaro was clinging to him like Nolofinwe’s own children had been too old to do for ages. And if Pityo hadn’t trusted him not to turn the situation to his own advantage, he at least trusted him enough to look after Feanaro now that he knew.

That was something.

So he just nodded, and Pityo took off like a deer with the whole hunt of Orome behind it.

When the door swung shut behind him, Nolofinwe turned his head so that he could better see Feanaro and said, “You’re taking this very well.”

He’d waited in case Feanaro took that as he cue to start not taking things well; he didn’t think the situation would be in any way improved by Feanaro bursting into tears in front of his son.

But Feanaro just shrugged. “It’s an adventure!” he said with a blinding grin that faded a bit into thoughtfulness. “And I’ve seen my notes in here and . . . and some of Amil’s tapestries upstairs. It looks like a house I’d have.”

And of course there was no reason to be concerned, Nolofinwe supposed; Feanaro was safe, there was no reason to suppose he’d ever be anything other than totally safe. This was Aman, not long ago Cuivenien, but still.

He supposed the world had changed since Feanaro was a child after all because he still couldn’t quite suppress a thrill of vicious vicarious unease. Feanaro in his right mind would not want to be this vulnerable, especially not in front of the half-brother that he now seemed for inexplicable reasons to adore.

But Feanaro was now squirming down from his place on Nolofinwe’s back. He let him down quickly, and Feanaro circled around and reclaimed his perch on the workbench, face suddenly very serious.

“Those weren’t the only things I saw upstairs,” he said. “I saw the bedrooms too.”

“Oh?” Nolofinwe said, at a loss as to why this, of all things, would upset a child-sized Feanaro.

Feanaro’s shoulders were tense. “I saw my bedroom,” he clarified, and when this still provoked no answer, his chin jutted out. “Don’t play stupid with me,” he insisted. “I saw. It was my bedroom, just mine. Something happened to their mother, didn’t it?”

His voice shook over the word “something.”

It probably said something too that he said "their mother" and not "my wife," but given his current age, mothers were probably an infinitely more comfortable topic, even considering the history of his own.

Nolofinwe sat down beside him. “Nothing happened to Nerdanel,” he said gently. Feanaro perked up just a little at the extra information he had just inadvertently provided, so Nolofinwe gave him some more. “That’s her name. She has hair just as red as Pityo’s, and she’s a sculptor. Her workshop should still be here. Have you seen it?”

Feanaro shook his head.

“She’s the best in Aman,” Nolofinwe said, and it was no empty flattery. “She’s gone to visit her family, that’s all. Nothing bad.”

“She went to visit her family, and she took everything with her?” Feanaro said skeptically.

Nolofinwe had come here hoping to discuss a few details of the festival with his brother before he went to push his case for the new university's funding in court. He had prepared for that. He had not prepared how to discuss the difficulties in his brother’s marriage with a child who wasn’t familiar with any possible difficulties in marriage beyond death.

“You had a fight,” he admitted.

Feanaro considered this. “Did I win?”

“That depends on how you define winning,” Nolofinwe said dryly. “But regardless, she is very much still alive.”

This seemed to satisfy Feanaro. At the very least, he moved on. “So how much older than you am I?” he asked, and there was a strange look on his face now.

Nolofinwe didn’t really see how the answer could do any harm, but something about the look on Feanaro’s face made him wary. “You had already started your apprenticeship when I was born,” he said, leaving at least a little ambivalence in case he needed it later.

Feanaro’s shoulders slumped a fraction, but he recovered quickly, leaning forward eagerly. “But I started that young, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he admitted. “You’d finished it before you were of age.”

Feanaro nodded, calculations running behind his eyes. “And I bet she didn’t have you right away,” he said, fingers tapping quickly, like a count. “They would have waited.”

“That’s . . . true,” he said warily.

“So it won’t be much longer then,” Feanaro said cheerfully. “From my perspective, I mean, I know it’s already handled here.”

Cheerfully?

Feanaro had apparently noticed his confusion because he rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot,” he said with a deep scorn that was far more familiar than any other expression he’d worn that day. “I know where babies come from. Atar couldn’t have given me a brother on his own.”

“Two brothers,” he said blankly. “Arafinwe - “

Feanaro grinned. “Even better.” But the grin faltered quickly. “Did she - blame me? When she came back, and you turned out alright, did she think it was my fault?”

When she came back.

He had wondered, earlier, just how old Feanaro was.

Too young, apparently, to know of his father’s decision to remarry.

That explained . . . a lot.

Feanaro’s face had crumpled in the face of his silence.

“Of course not,” he said. “Of course not, she would never blame you.” He wrapped an arm around Feanaro and pulled him closer.

Feanaro’s shoulders shook. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, stubbornly not crying. “I’m not a baby.”

“She didn’t blame you,” he invented wildly. “She blamed Atar. But she forgave him, as Arafinwe obviously proves.”

It came out almost naturally. It would have been entirely naturally if it hadn’t belatedly occurred to him just how much trouble he would be in if Feanaro asked the obvious follow-up question and demanded to see her.

Thankfully, at that moment, the muffled sound of the door to the house banging open rang out, followed quickly by the door to the workshop slamming open in its turn.

Curufinwe ran through first, and Fenaaro’s jaw dropped at the older reflection of himself.

For his part, Curufinwe’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tears still trembling in his father’s eyes. Thunder clouds immediately began to form on his face.

Maitimo was a slightly calmer presence behind him, but his face was still flushed from moving too fast in formal robes in the summer heat. “Uncle,” he said, inclining his head. “We appreciate your assistance.”

Curufinwe opened his mouth. Maitimo very firmly snatched the relevant papers from the workbench and steered him to the other end of the workroom. Curufinwe went, though he kept sending rather understandable glances back toward his Atar.

Maitimo was gentler when he approached Feanaro, kneeling so that they were at eye level. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Maitimo. Did Pityo tell you who I am?”

“You’re the one with all the letters in your room,” Feanaro said, a little warily.

Maitimo’s mouth twitched up in amusement. “That’s right.”

Curufinwe was in sweat stained work clothes, but Maitimo’s were finer; he must have visited court before going to help Makalaure. Regardless, there were jewels glinting around his neck, and Feanaro, perhaps inevitably, was drawn toward them.

“Did I make those?” he asked eagerly, successfully distracted from his earlier distress, eyes tracing the chain of gold framed rubies that looked like sparks from a fire that wrapped from Maitimo’s shoulder to his waist.

Maitimo’s smile widened. “You did,” he said. “They were a gift for my first appointment of any real substance at court.”

Feanaro’s attention turned to Nolofinwe’s own court finery and the sapphires twisted into the silver circlet in his hair. “Did I make that?” he demanded.

Nolofinwe resisted the urge to wince. “You did not.”

That was no crime, of course; it was just that this piece in particular was very pointedly not made by Feanaro. It had, in fact, been made by a Vanyarin smith who had been trumpeted as their very best, and while the Vanyar were not generally known for their smiths, some had boasted that he could challenge even Feanaro’s skill.

Commissioning the piece had been a statement, a declaration that he was not ashamed of his Vanyarin heritage, that Feanaro’s supremacy was not unchallenged, that -

Well. A lot of things. Wearing it was also always a very deliberate jab, and it was one he had been wholeheartedly in favor of this morning.

But he couldn’t tell that to the painfully earnest Feanaro of right now.

“You’ve made me others, though,” he said, which was actually true.

There was the delicate silver bracelet that had likely been a long forgotten statement of some kind that Feanaro had gifted him upon his birth. He still had it tucked into a corner of his jewel box despite the fact it was now far too small to be of any possible use. There was the necklace Feanaro had presented to him when he was still very small, and Nolofinwe had been dragged out to Tol Eressea for the first time. He had been terrified of the shadows there and of the sky so dark that stars could peek through, and Feanaro had presented him with a chain of jewels that glowed when his tiny hands squeezed them. There had been a more formal piece too, a diadem, when he reached adolescence and was formally presented to the court. Feanaro had given it to him shortly after he confessed in a tense whisper to his nerves.

There had been a handful of more minor trinkets too, but those had trailed off after that last diadem. Feanaro had been . . . distant, frequently, in his youth, but that had often been a matter of physical distance as much as anything else, and the vast gulf in their ages. When that distance had been crossed, he had been - kind, in that fierce way of his, especially when Nolofinwe had felt weak and most in need of him.

It was when Nolofinwe had proven himself strong that the tension between them had truly arisen as a force in its own right instead of merely an echo of their parents’ lives. Childish fears of the dark had melted, and a gift for persuasion and rhetoric had sent him on a meteoric rise in courtly influence in their place.

It had not meant the end of gifts, exactly; Feanaro had as much desire to appease their father as Nolofinwe did, and so the gifts had continued at all appropriate occasions. It was just that they were never from Feanaro’s own hand anymore, and with only a few small exceptions, he strongly suspected them to have been selections of first Nerdanel and then Maitimo.

But there had been one exception, even to that. It had, ironically enough, been presented to Nolofinwe shortly after he had first worn the set he was currently draped in.

Unlike every other piece Feanaro had ever given him, the chains had been gold. Most of the jewels had been blue, glowing with a faint light, like the light of the Mingling reflected on the ocean, but the centerpiece, the largest jewel, had been like blood spreading on the water.

A violent image, but still beautiful.

It had been a statement, just like Nolofinwe’s own commission, only he had never been entirely certain of the extent of the statement involved. That it had been a defense of Feanaro’s superior craftsmanship was certain, and also a point it was difficult not to concede. The piece looked like a song given form, and it was difficult to tear his eyes away from it when it was in sight.

The rest of it, though - and there surely must be a rest of it - was less certain, and so for the most part, Nolofinwe left it quietly in its box.

Just this once, though, it surely couldn’t do much harm.

“If you’re still like this tomorrow, I’ll wear it then,” he promised.

Feanaro’s dark mood vanished for a moment before being replaced by new urgency. “We can’t wait that long! I have to be older again by tonight.”

Tension immediately reentered the room.

“Oh?” Maitimo asked with forced calm. “Did you see something concerning in your notes?”

Feanaro shook hs head. “No, but Pityo said Makalaure’s concert was tonight, and he said I couldn’t leave the house until I was back to normal, so I have to be back to normal by tonight, I have to.”

Maitimo smiled as the tensions slowly drained out again. “I’m sure he’ll understand, just this once.”

But Feanaro shook his head fiercely. “Atar always comes when he says he will,” he said firmly. “I have to do the same thing.”

“You can help me decode these if you want,” Curufinwe offered. “It would go faster.”

Feanaro hesitated a moment, but an encouraging smile from Nolofinwe sent off him quickly.

Nolofinwe looked after him for a long moment before turning back to Maitimo. “I hate to do this to you,” he said in a low voice, “but I do have other matters to attend to before the festival begins. If there’s nothing else I can do . . . ?”

“Of course,” Maitimo said. “Let me show you out.”

“Good,” he said, rising. “There’s a few things you should probably know . . . “

He explained his lies with a hint of guilt as Maitimo showed him to the door, but if Feanaro's eldest resented them, he said nothing of it.

He should at least say goodbye. He knew he should. He would be late to see Atar if he did, but Atar would never hold it against him, especially if he explained the cause.

He just - couldn't.

. . .

He hadn’t wanted to leave, exactly, but with both Feanaro and his sons pouring over the notes, Nolofinwe had little doubt the issue would be resolved quickly.

He simply preferred not to be standing right there when it was.

He had no idea whether or not Feanaro would remember what had happened. He wasn’t sure which alternative would be worse.

Either way, he would return to find things largely unchanged by his absence. He had resisted the urge to tell the king what had happened. They would have to if things persisted, of course, but he truly did not think they would, and in the meantime - it felt like a betrayal, as absurd as that was, to reveal Feanaro's joy at what could have been to anyone else.

Perhaps that was why as he dressed for the concert, he couldn’t quite help his hand lingering over a certain box.

It wasn’t quite what he had promised, but it was probably the best he could do.

And it was, after all, almost certainly the finest he owned. It was a shame to let a few complications keep it hiding in the dark.

. . .

(The concert is out in the open, great flocks of elves streaming through the festival streets to gather around the stage. Nolofinwe walks with his wife on his arm, waiting for the first golden note.)

(It is struck just as the Mingling starts. The light shimmers as it dances off the jewels on Nolofinwe’s chest.)

(For just a moment, through the crowd, he spots Feanaro, once more only a hand’s width shorter than Nolofinwe’s own height.)

(Feanaro does not approach him.)

(But his gaze catches on the dazzling jewels, and just for a moment, his half-brother smiles.)

[bonelessghoul]

Until My Last Breath

requested by: @just-deka

summary: A heartrender in the rankings of the Crows and with an unspoken relationship with Kaz Brekker finds herself in trouble during a heist when there is a run in with the Dime Lions. When Kaz fights his way in to get her out of the mess it became, the two end up trapped and fighting for their lives. But in their last moments, the truth comes out. 

note: LMAO THIS WAS THE BEST WAY I COULD SUM UP THE REQUEST, but I was genuinely panicking at the end of this hoping this turned out the way you wanted it to!! Hope you enjoy :)

~

If you knew your life was going to end, what would you do? That would be a fun question to answer, but not if you only had minutes to live. Maybe hours. Hours was too optimistic though, and they realized that if they weren’t found soon, then the light in their eyes would be put out forever.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as they stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

~

The chandeliers spaced throughout the high ceiling of the Crow Club gave a vintage touch with its dim light, making the deep red curtains around the room seem darker and masking the daylight from the outdoors. But tucked away in the second story was Kaz Brekker’s office. It was his solace away from the clamor of the club that was only muffled from where he sat hunched over his desk.

The midday crowd was already filling the club to the brim from the booths to the game tables and every space in between.  

But one figure slipped through it with ease, weaving in and out in a fresh white blouse, cinched in the middle and sleeves like balloons like an angel. It was like clockwork when you would find your way up the stairs to the office, bypassing the allure of the liquor and games Jesper engorged himself with. You were busy back in your room at the Slat, tinkering with new scraps of the latest mechanics you dug for, but like you said; your arrival was like clockwork.

Kaz, glancing at his pocket watch, stared as the thin needle of a hand rolled around the center point and as if on cue, he found YN breezing through the door with a breath of relief from squeezing through the crowd. His office smelled like remnants of firewood, the freshly brewed coffee he had filling the air. While the daylight was hidden in the club downstairs, a window was opened allowing a cool breeze and the cloudy skies to find their way into this massive space which also held a small bedroom.

As a Heartrender, you would never admit to the way Kaz’s heart would pick up whenever you were near.

“Morning.” you greeted, a handful of mail sent for him to the Slat in your hands as you crossed the space between the door and his desk.

Offering him the small stack and he took it, the shadows under his eyes seeming darker today. You were always up before the sun when your mind could not stop thinking of a new idea, and more often than not, you’d hear Kaz sneaking out in the early morning without a word.

“It’s afternoon.” he said, slyly glancing up at her as his gloved hand took the papers.

With your hands free, you sat yourself upon the very corner of his desk and looking down at the two cups of coffee still topped off with steam, one cup significantly lighter than the other. Smiling contently to yourself, you wrapped your hands around the mug and picked it up to your lips.

“Hope you got it right.”

Kaz glanced up once more as he sorted through the letters.

His eyes flickered over you for a moment, pausing from what he initially wanted to say and you could hear his heart beat in your ears as it skipped.

“Don’t worry, I made it sickening sweet.” Kaz mused, heaving a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

“Good, I’ll slip slowly and waste more time here then.” you chuckled lightly.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy sitting on his desk, sharing a cup of coffee and hearing him rant as he read the bills, the offers from others, imported goods, the bank statements, and everything else that came with the stress of running a club, not to mention an entire gang. There as a guilty pleasure as a Heartrender that involved enjoying just how flustered became down to a cellular level , but her relationship with Kaz was different; being a Heartrender taught her how much she could push and how to know when to stop pushing given his complicated boundaries.

Admittedly, as indifferent as she made herself seem when it came to Kaz, had he been the Heartrender you would have been in trouble if he could hear your heart. Every time you saw his face at the end of a job, whenever he’d look at you as you sat like you did now, and even every little bit of your unique intimacy sent your heart racing.

It seemed there were many ways to love someone that didn’t involve touching, you thought to yourself, watching Kaz’s brows furrow in the slightest with every word he read with a bittersweet smile. But it hurt when she couldn’t hold his hand or feel his comforting arms at the end of the day.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked, clearing your throat. “Things have been awfully quiet lately.”

Kaz smirked, snickering lightly to himself as he looked up at her.

“We don’t say the words quiet around here because next thing you know, it won’t be so quiet and our hands will be full with trouble.”

You raised your brows. “Well, is something coming our way?”

The look on his face confirmed it all. A simple job was offered to the Crows and a select few Dregs of his choosing (but Kaz would tell you to round up those best for it anyway), to steal a vintage piece of jewelry just brought to  Ketterdam’s historic society display room. It was a job within a job, for the person requesting this jewelry and its unique elemental composition worth hundreds of thousands, it was the key to a bigger job after this which they hoped to secure.

“They have a pretty tight security system.” You sighed, holding up the blueprints he pulled out in front of you.

“Perhaps, you can figure it out in a more spacious area than the corner of my desk.” Kaz frowned, looking away as his chin rested in his palm. Then, only his eyes moved towards her. “I’m leaving the tight security system to you because you’re the only one who is creative enough to get by them. Inej scouted every entrance and found the source of the security system’s mechanics.”

It seemed easy, nothing you hadn’t come up with before, and an idea was already forming in your head to your excitement.

“Tinker around, get the ancient necklace, and a boat load of kruge.” You said simply, your voice only wavering in the slightest as your eyes narrowed at just how intricate the alarm system was.

Kaz stood up from his seat, taking the maps from her to wrap up and slide away in its casing.

“You should be on your way. Best to get a quick start so we can be in and out tonight.” Kaz said, handing her the cylinder casing for the blueprints.

“Oh, I’d sit here all day of you let me.” you grinned, earning an eye roll from him.

“Go.” Kaz pressed, his face more asserting now, trying to hide his own smirk.

But even as you strolled out the door, you could hear his heart rate jumping. Kaz’s eyes didn’t leave your figure on the way out, still staring out into space after the door shut. He leaned over his desk with his palms pressed into the wooden edge and his head dropped with a sigh.

Kaz Brekker was in trouble and his little Heartrender already knew.

~

There was a slightly calmer hour to be found at the Crow Club between the midday crowd leaving and night crowd slowly taking its place. In that time, you found yourself sitting at a booth and sinking into the curved red velvet seating.

You were sketching out a tool that will silence the alarm mechanisms that you had been reading up on for the past two hours. Time was running slow and your back began to ache from the position you barely moved from as you dug the lead into the parchment.

“Hey, YN! How’s it—”

“Jesper!”

Your hands frantically waved him off as his palm came down on your sprawled out pile of sketches and he jumped back, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, piling up the previous sketched of the tool you were designing, the exhaustion clear in your skiddish movements. “I have just been trying to wrap my head around this job tonight.”

Jesper smoothly slid into the booth, sitting next to you with eyes scanning over the maps. From behind, Inej approached them and slid into the booth from the other side and now, both Crows were perched upon her shoulders and looking at her work.

“The historical society in the Geldestraat is no playground.” Inej sighed.

“Oh, it’s a playground for sure, just one with little landmines at every step and Stadwatch at every corner. Then, it’s a race to the last swing on the swing set and that is our prize at the end of tonight.” Jesper ranted, his hands flailing as he spoke.

By the time he was done speaking, you and Inej stared at him, speechless.

“You must have been the child that was always bullied at playgrounds, weren’t you?” you muttered, turning your head back to the blueprints. “It’s one of the most complex, yet easiest security systems we’ve had to break into. If the necklace is on display in the spot you say it is, Inej, then this window here is our best bet.”

“Best bet for what?” Inej asked, looking at her quizzically.

Grinning, you held up the drawing of a box no bigger than your hand, the inner workings of your mind scribbled across the page.

“The window has about 5 seconds from the moment it’s opened all the way before it starts setting off an alarm which has a domino affect on the other alarms. It’s a system of bells and the window we’re going through is the start of the system. If I can forge this box to the right dimensions of the window and the string that is triggered from the window opening, then we will have a few minutes before it breaks, and the bells signal any Stadwatch in the area.”

Jesper scoffed. “Then don’t build a little tool that is going to break.”

Your hands ran over your face and instantly, you swatted at his shoulder.

“My work is impeccable, but that string is thin and ready to snap, it’s why they used it so that when the window opened, it would cut it and set off the bells.”

“Oh!” he said slowly, coming to the realization as his lips formed an o.

Even as you spoke of your plan as easily as floating down a stream, it was too good to be true. There were a dozen other factors you haven’t considered yet that made this all the more tricky. In theory, it sounded simple but getting through the window and setting up the tool in time was critical, not to mention getting to the lower level of the museum and back in time before the bells go off.

Leaning on your elbows, your shoulders sunk just a little as your mind continued to pour over the plan.

“I have to be efficient. I say we get a few minutes, give or take another fifteen minutes tops, to make it to the necklace and back without a single peep.”

Jesper glanced at Inej who was standing beside you now and looking it all over.

“Can you do that Inej?”

Immediately, the girl shook her head.

“I may be the most graceful here, but I’m surprisingly not the fastest.”

You didn’t pay any mind to the attention being shoved on you. While you wouldn’t admit it, you’ve already been thinking of it all afternoon and it left your stomach in knots.

“I’ve been walking through this all afternoon.” you sighed, a hint of defeat in your face. “Partially, I feel like taking our chances by taking these jewels in broad daylight.” you half joked.

Suddenly, your hearing focused in on a heart that almost had a third pound through his chest from the cane who always wore. That and his heartbeat both resounded through Kaz’s body with such strength, but, even when you expected him to be near, you didn’t expect him behind the booth sending the three of you with the Saints.

“We do not have the luxury of stealing things in broad daylight, YN.” Kaz said, startling everyone out of their own skin, looming over their shoulders until they he was in front of the table. “We got the jump on this before anyone else, there is no other time to do this but tonight so you all have to be ready.”

You looked up at him, slightly taken back at how high strung he was over this job, his own stressed soul infecting theirs. His eyes scanned over the three of them and then, fell on yours, but you were already looking at the hard lines in his face accentuated by his frown.

Nodding, you tore your eyes away from him and got back to work.

This job was going to break a sweat out in all of them before it even started.

~

“This one won’t explode, yes?” Kaz asked you.

Frowning at him, you waved the contraption you built in an hour Iin the air.

“Look, I know the last one did but this was a simple put together of a few different pieces. See, if you just-'

Kaz put his hand up with an exasperated look, signaling you to stop the demonstration you tried to put on by showing him the inside of your invention.

The two or you stood by one of the street level windows to the small brick building, it’s window panes and shutters painted black, and on this little side street there was no light that found its way here except the faint blue moon above their heads. Kaz had just unlocked the windows, and he stood there just inches away before he would open the window and you’d crawl in, having to be quick.

As you looked at him, you almost couldn’t distinguish who’s heart was racing faster.

Every time you tried to think of your path to the second story where the famous necklace was on display, your thoughts kept getting scrambled.

“Be fast, but not sloppy and get back here in one piece with that jewel in your hand.” Kaz said, his voice not missing a confident beat.

You nodded, smiling reassuringly and your hands nervously straightened the flaps of his wool jacket and you took a shaky breath.

“Got it. Open it up.”

With his cane, Kaz stepped towards the window and gave you one last look as you prepared to jump from the crate and through the opening. Even the first story was a bit of a height difference from the street, but you were quick and had the jumping skill set needed.

Kaz nodded at her and without a moment to waste, Kaz opened the window and you sprinted in, your foot pressing into the crate, pushing off of it and your hands clutching the windowsill to guide you in with ease. There was only a few seconds left and you leaped up to the top of the window, watching as the string that held together their alarm system was growing taught and with your heart pounding, your arm shot out to grab it before it snapped and finally, you could let out a breath or relief.

“Did it work?” Kaz asked, peaking his head through the window

Your tongue was peaking through your lips as you focused intently on wrapping the string in your contraption without moving it too much, settling it against the window secured in place like it were a second addition to big metal box against the wall that was the start it.

“YN!” he hissed.

You shushed him, beads of sweat forming at your temples, slowly leaning back as you released your invention that would keep the string in place, everything seemingly more quiet than normal.

That was good though, the silence being a sign that it was working.

Leaping down, you faced Kaz on the other side of the window and smiled at him, giving a wave of the hand in the form of a salute.

“See ya in a minute.”

Kaz grinned at you, but you turned and ran before you could hear him say a word.

The historical society was an old mansion, when they were a little smaller back in the day, converted into a museum. The hardwood floors and floral carpets were the original, the walls having been painted over a baby blue and hung with artwork that dated before Ketterdam was even recognized on the map. Everyone believed they were copies though.

You came out to the front entrance, a massive open space with a chandelier made of diamonds that sparkled and cast sharp little reflections around the room from the moon that shone in through the window above the tall double doors.

Holding your breath, you slowly looked around, not a single sound or movement to be made.

It was clear and you were set to take off up the stairs, careful not to place your hand along the railing. At the top of the stairs, it split into two hallways but you need not worry about which one to go down because the jewels were sitting in a small case, overlooking the home. They were meant to be in a room down the hall, having yet to be put on display, but it seems your job just got easier.

With a devious, proud grin across your lips, you looked at the ember colored jewels sat into the heavy golden necklace, and even you had to take a moment to admire it’s beauty as if there was a fire burning in each and every individual stone. But, you glanced at the pocket watch you had stolen from Kaz years ago and knew you only had a minute of assurance that the alarm wouldn’t go off before you had to run back

With gloved hands, you lifted the glass boxand plucked the jewel out from it.

In one swift move you placed the glass back and turned around, ready to bolt down the stairs, but two gunshots shattered your senses and while you couldn’t understand why at first, you were sent hurdling down the stairs with no control of your body.

Kaz was growing impatient standing in the alleyway, anxiously checking his watch, counting down the minutes. It shouldn’t have taken this long, and he knew that you knew that as well. Maybe they hid the necklace after the museum closed or maybe they haven’t even had the chance to put it out yet, but Kaz was not looking forward to having to jump to their plan B.

“Dammit, YN" he hissed, glancing through the window into the dark hallway.

But the sound of guns being fired sent him in a frenzy and without waiting a second, Kaz climbed through the window fearing the worst.

By the time you landed, rolling to a stop, the wind had been knocked out of you, pain started surging through your backside from your left hip to right shoulder blade, and left you dizzy and gasping for air. Still clutched in your hands was the necklace, and you tried to focus on how many heartbeats were in the room, but you couldn’t concentrate with the pain you were in.

“Lock her up, she’s a Heartrender.” said a man with a thick Kerch accent that sent her stomach in knots.

“No.” you painfully gasped, trying to bring your hands together.

But one boot came stomping down on the wrist that held the necklace and your screamed out in pain as your shattered bones grinded against. Suddenly, your numb fingers could no longer find the golden chain as it was taken from your hands in Pekka Rollins came into view.

“I’ll be taking that, darling. Thanks for doing the work for us!”

As Pekka stood over you, his shadowed face looking down at you with a horrid grin that made your blood boil. Your hand was shaking as you tried to bring them together, but he waved his finger in front of your face.

“Don’t even try it or a bullet will be put in your head the moment you even move a muscle.” he threatened.

At the sound of a cane smacking into a man’s skull, your head sharply turned as you lay on the ground, watching Kaz storm into the room and begin fighting the Dime Lions that charged at him.

“Kaz, no!” you cried out, your heart nearly lurching from your chest.

It was only moments before two of them seized Kaz, bringing him down on his knees. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched them relentlessly dig their fists into every part of his body, his head refusing to fall in defeat.

“What a surprise, Mr.Brekker.” Rollins taunted, strolling over to him. “I worried you might have been here before we were when your little Wraith hijacked our meeting with the buyer, but I figured, why not sit back and let you do the work for us?”

Kaz glared up at Pekka, his eyes flickering to you as you lay there, a gun pointed to your head at the hands of another Dime Lion and you watched his face drain of all its color.

“Not her.” Kaz said unconsciously, the words passing through his lips like he were thinking out loud. 

That was their first mistake.

“I didn’t know the Dregs at a Heartrender in their rankings.” Pekka said, observing Kaz’s faulty eyes, glancing back at you with a smug grin. “That sounds a bit like cheating.” But then, he shrugged and his head rolled back to Kaz. “Bah, what do I care? She won’t make it much longer, but you? If you manage to crawl out of this mess, I might have a little more respect for ya.”

You didn’t know what mess Pekka Rollins was referring to, but your backside was already aching, blood seeping through your clothes now as you lay on the cold floor.

Kaz was writhing in their grips, bloody murder written across his face as he seemed to make his way out of one of their grasps and just as you thought he would have won, a gun shot rang through the air and made you jump.

Despite all the pain, you watched as Kaz crumpled to the ground and your body instantly shot up, wincing as Pekka kicked him in the face. But another shot resounded through the air, and you collapsed back on the ground with your hand still reaching for him, your leg now feeling useless as the bullet lodged itself in your calf. You watched as Kaz roll in his back, face contorted with pain.

The tears began to fall and you lay there, looking at him, waiting for his eyes to open and look back at you.

“Let’s leave, boys. Blow the place on the way out.”

That order sent a chill through your body and you helplessly watched them walk away.

“Kaz…” you weakly croaked out, watching him begin to prop himself up, one hand holding his stomach. “Kaz, we need to go.”

As you tried to shuffle towards him, every muscle in your body screaming with pain, you were only inches away from your fingertips reaching the lapels of his coat. Kaz looked at you, his eyes wide, but the moment he reached out for you, a blast shook the entire building and the last thing you saw was the walls crumbling down around you.

~

“YN!”

The voice was muffled, just barely heard over the ringing over your ears. Slowly, your eyes blinked open, and you couldn’t feel a thing as you watched the dark blue twilight sky above your head. It was almost peaceful, the sky lightening ever so lightly that you could make out the thick clouds that were almost black against the backdrop of the sky.

But then, the sharp scent of smoke that clouded your lungs and the irony taste of blood in your mouth took you away from your blissful moment and thrusted you into one of sheer panic as it crawled up your spine.

“YN!”

The ringing stopped and you could hear the cackling of flames and rubble grinding against each other now, turning your head to see Kaz.

Soot streaked his face; the panic you felt now visible in his widened eyes and the way his lips hung open like he was staring at a ghost. Your hands were merely inches from each other now and all around, the ceiling lay in shambles, the chandelier at your heads spreading its little diamonds across the space between you two. For a moment you wonder if that was what spared you two from the wood and stone that lay around you, but when you looked, you see that wood was piercing your thigh and the door lay over your ankle.

“Kaz.” you said shakily, looking back at him.

It was amazing how you couldn’t feel a thing, but that was probably good.

You two stared at each other, panting and clearly at a loss of what to do, except all you two could do was look at each other.

If you knew your life was going to end, what would you do? That would be a fun question to answer, but not if you only had minutes to live. Maybe hours. Hours was too optimistic though, and they realized that if they weren’t found soon, then the light in their eyes would be put out forever.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as you stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

“Don’t look at my like that, YN.” Kaz grunted, trying to pull himself up. “Don’t look at me like you’re going to die.”

The bruises scattered across his face and the blood that soaked through his shirt were clear as day, but he seemed unphased as he tried to move closer.

You faintly smirked at him, feeling a trickle of blood from the corner of your lip.

“I think only you could look like an angel even when a building exploded around us.”

Kaz saw you smile through the pain, and every effort to be strong he tried to put up was whisked away by the look on your face as his shoulders fell. He could have collapsed back to the floor, letting the sleep take him away, had it not been for the way you smiled at him. Of course, he was in pain too, but it was insurmountable to the pain caused by the sight before him. His heart raced, wondering just how he would manage to drag the two of you out of this as his own limbs grew weary and tired from trying to sit up.

“I think you should get a demo man, Jesper always wanted one.”

Kaz, exhaled, letting out a brief chuckle.

“Why should I when half of your inventions explode anyway? We’ll have plenty more to come.”

There was a tinge of fear to his voice, hidden by the hope that you would make it til morning, and you could hear it; he didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t let Pekka Rollins take someone else from him, even if it meant waiting until his last breath to take his life.

You rolled your eyes at him, the pain slowly starting to return as you gazed at the ceiling.

You kept your heart beating, your blood flowing, but you tried to pull yourself closer to Kaz only to sink back into the floor with defeat and suddenly, your chest started to rise and fall quicker. This couldn’t be it. You were stronger than this. You had to survive—if not for the Crows, but for him. Perhaps, you were being too hopeful after all.

“Kaz.” you croaked out, looking back at him with the tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

“YN, we will be okay.” he said, his voice stern as if he could read your mind.

Suddenly, when he was within reach, you clasped his gloved hand and forced as much life into him as you could, watching him become caught off guard as his heart began to race.

“No.” he pleads.

Kaz tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let him.

“You need to conserve your energy. We need to get out of here before the Stadwatch find us in the middle of this.”

“I’m saving you so you can save the both of us!” you argued, using his hand to pull yourself a little closer, both of you straining to bring yourselves together. But you paused for a moment, trying to catch your breath. “One of us needs to make it out of here tonight and I’m the only one who can make sure of it.”

Kaz finally pulls his hand away, and you watch him fight against everything that brought him down to sit up, leaning his back on the heavy chandelier and the remnants of the ceiling that supported it. He shut his eyes for a moment, and you watch the connection between you break as he becomes overly drained, still thinking desperately of a way out of this. As he sat there, you too fought against the pain coursing through every nerve of your body, the bullets lodged within you taunting your beaten soul as you tried to sit yourself up too. The cracked bones in your wrist made you gasp when you tried to put pressure on it, but you fought through it for one last push as you sat yourself up against the chandelier just a foot away with him.

“I cannot leave here alone. I can’t go back if you’re not with me.” Kaz said slowly, his head turning to you.

Now that you two were closer to each other, you could see just how hurt he was.

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to grasp his hand again, but blood spattered through your lips as you coughed it up.

Black spots danced across your vision, and you slowly start to fall over.

Kaz’s breath hitched, and his arms moved before he could even think to do so, dragging you towards him.

The moment you felt his arms around you, you came back to your senses, looking up at him from where your head lay on his chest.

“Kaz, you don’t—”

“I-I have to.” He says, shuddering slightly.

Kaz’s mind could not seem to push away the suffocating feeling your touch brought, and he found himself looking away, trying to fight off the horrifying memories of the ocean swallowing him whole. 

But he squeezed you tight, all flesh and bone still warm with life, trying to push out the gruesome images of his last memories with Jordie. You were alive in his arms, and he wouldn’t live to see the day you weren’t despite their odds right now.

For so long, you dreamed of the day Kaz could hold your hand, even let his knuckles brush by yours. But you never thought this is how it would go.

“It’s because I’m dying, isn’t it?”

Yes.

Kaz looks down at you, already accepting the defeat of the night, and he is almost too horrified to speak as your eyes seemed calmer now than from the second you finally regained consciousness.

“It’s because—”

He pauses, looking away from you and you hang on to every word.

The only thing he wanted to do was hold you, hating himself for never doing it sooner.

“It’s okay, Kaz.” you smile sadly. “There was going to be a day when I’d watch you all grow old and leave me, but if I don’t make it through this, at least I won’t have to watch that happen.”

There was a million things you could say, a million things you built up for years since the day you saw him. In all that time you never imagined it all coming down to this and you were just so tired, but you wanted to hear him say the words.

“But I want to hear you say it.” You said, your voice growing quiet.

No matter how much you tried to justify letting go, you didn’t want to. Your heart beat for him as you looked up at him and all you wanted to do was hear him say those words.

As your eyelids became heavy, you tried to focus on the way your heart beat alongside his, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could fight for the two of you, but his heart was already racing. You loved the sound of it, remembering every time you would hear it jump the moment you stepped into a room.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough time for me to hold you and tell you the words you want to hear.”

Kaz was fighting for his life and his urge to finally tell the truth about everything. The way he hated when you’d sit on his desk, play with his jacket when there was a slight hair out of place, and he hated how even now you were fighting to keep both of you alive. But there was the way he loved watching you outwit everyone of the Dregs when they played at the tables, the way he loved when you’d doze off in his office after a long day of working with your tools and so much more he hated himself for only paying attention to now.

“Are you going to make me do everything?” you ask, weakly smiling, hiding your face as your hot tears stained his chest.

You could feel him smile, and you could also feel your energy draining by the second.

“I love you, Kaz. Until my last breath.” you said, fearing this would be your last.

The words were on both of their minds, yet, Kaz couldn’t wrap his head around it and when you said it, his lips parted ever so slightly, staring ahead at the rubble as if that was the biggest shock to come of the night. Those words were foreign to him, they belonged to a shell of who he was and he couldn’t allow himself to accept it. His heart ached though, almost wanting to hear it again from your lips.

But then, when his heart suddenly slowed and he felt your hand leave his chest, Kaz looked down at you in a panic.

“YN…” he whispered urgently.

“I’m here.” you murmured; your eyes closed.

It felt so nice to shut them for a moment.

Kaz looked down at you, everything in him spinning, and he was ready to march you out of here now to get help but even then, as he tried to move, the pain in his body kept him grounded. Sighing in defeat, he smacked his head against the back of the chandelier and rubble he leaned upon, wanting to scream or yell and curse the world for making him so weak. His mind lingered back to the waters, Jordie’s molted and rotten skin at his fingertips, while he kicked back to the harbor swimming against all odds.

“I love you too, YN.” he said, the words cutting through the silence around them.

Deep down, he didn’t want to say the words out loud, knowing they might be the last he says to you. He yearned for more time to love you, to stroke the hair off your face as he did now as the corner of your lips turned upwards. 

It made him forget to breathe as he frantically searched around, wondering if there was a way out.

But the exhaustion was tearing him apart and he looked down at you one last time, the smile off your face as your head rolled slightly. 

It wasn’t long before his eyes closed too.

~

“I found them!” 

The Dregs were scouring the rubble after they heard the explosion from the rendezvous point, Jesper and Inej running back after seeing that the two of you never made it. 

When the pair heard one of the Dregs call out, the pair exchanged a worried look before pushing through the remnants of the mansion. They feared they would find your mangeled bodies waiting for them, but they skidded to a halt when they saw something else entirely.

Jesper’s face fell, as Inej’s hand clamped over her mouth, watching as Rotty checked their pulses, the man’s hands shaking as they checked. 

“They’re still breathing!” Rotty shouted with relief. “Let’s move them out of here, they’re hurt pretty bad.”

But Inej and Jesper could not move just yet, staring with teary eyes from the overwhelming release of the weight on their shoulders. You sat curled up alongside Kaz, his arms wrapped around you, holding so tightly they could have swore he turned to stone. 

There was no time to waste though, and they ran to you and Kaz to drag the two of you out to safety. 

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

hey girlypops! here is part 5!!! thanks for the feedback on the last part - i've gone back through and edited slight bits to make it more straightforward who her brother is and who it isn't. Nothing has been changed to the story line so no need to go back and re-read (unless you want to lol love yas). Part 5 is a whole lot of fun! As the warning suggests, you can expect a few too many drinks, some heavy flirty & a very smug italian.

Love always, Steph xx

Part 5. | parte quinta

warnings; a few too many drinks, heavy flirting and a smug italian.

word count; 1704

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wed 04/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Day rolls into night, which rolls into the next day and before she knew it Amelia had been under the Mykonos sun for 5 days. Her brother and his teammates, who she should now probably refer to as her friends as well, did nothing but welcome her into their group with open arms and tried to include her in every activity they were doing. Most times she declined their invitation, opting to just relax on her own. She was very comfortable with her own company, she never felt like she needed another person to be able to exist. It was something she was proud of.

No doubt there were times she often missed companionship. She had her fair share of flings that gave her what kind of satisfaction she needed at the time, but she never felt like she needed someone else’s air to be able to breathe. This Mykonos trip, however, reminded her of how much she was beginning to miss her players. They had a group chat, La Cosa Nostra, which was probably a pretty poor group chat name but she was inducted into the already established group when she became close with some of the players & besides it was just Our Thing.

She missed the gentle bullying that she received on the daily from the serie a superstars, and also missed dishing it out to them so that they could keep their feet on the ground and their heads out of the clouds. Laying on her bed in a towel, after a nice shower, she contemplated taking up her brother’s offer from earlier in the evening. Does she go out and meet him and their mates at the club? Why not?

Getting up off her bed, she put on some makeup for the first time in a few days, making her feel somewhat human again, blow dried her freshly washed hair and put on her favourite Camilla bikini, covered up by a white slightly-sheer and flowy mini dress. Putting on her white sneakers and grabbing her cross body bag, comfort was the theme of tonight, and also because she wasn't in the mood to break her ankle on the grecian cobblestones.

Walking to the club that her brother had messaged her the name of, she noticed a ridiculously long line to get in which was honestly long enough for her to consider just going home, but she had committed to the plans & her brother was already expecting her - plus she had already put on her mascara and she was not wasting it. Approaching the line she went to join the back when her arm caught that of someone else walking past her.

_____________________________________________________________

“Sembra che tu non riesca a starmi lontano, vero?” (you can't seem to stay away from me, can you?) Looking up, I had linked arms with my midfield maestro, Jorginho. Who was smiling down at me with the cheeky grin that told me he saw me coming and couldn't help himself.

“Ciao! Come sei stato? Che sorpresa incontrati qui!” (Hi! How have you been? What a surprise running into you here!) I begin to say to him as I kiss both his cheeks in greeting.

“I’ve been good, enjoying time off as a double champion” He joked with me. He was right, he was a double champion and no one could take that away from him.

“Bella Amelia, this is Thiago. I play with him at Chelsea, which I'm sure you already knew. Thiago, this is the brains behind the organisation, Amelia” Jorginho introduced me to his Chelsea counterpart, which he was correct about - i did already know exactly who he was.

“Are you guys coming into Tropicana? I’m meeting up with my brother and his mates - some of them play with you guys at Chelsea. You should join us!” It took very little convincing for the two footballers, who looked like they were a couple hours into their long night, to join me in the club.

Unsurprisingly, we got let into Tropicana quite quickly. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the two mega famous and ridiculously good looking footballers I had looped around each of my arms. Walking through the club, the smell of cigarette smoke and vodka wafting around me, I managed to find the british players.

“Now now boys, no bad blood here! I know you all managed to get over my Italian affiliation so don’t hold it against my boy Jorgi here!” I address the group jokingly, as I wrap my right arm around his neck and he wraps his left around my waist.

Of course the Chelsea boys welcome him with open arms, they’ve known both Thiago and Jorgi longer than they’ve known me. The other boys offer their hellos before continuing to dance and drink with their mates. I say hi to everyone, give a big hug to my brother and Kyle (my chosen brother) before I'm wrapped into another hug I wasn't expecting.

“I’ve got to admit, you give a good hug” I say as I whisper into his ear.

“You’re a pretty easy person to hug, Mils”

“Always a smooth talker you are, Jack”

We parted and I grabbed myself a drink before spending the night dancing on top of the table with the girlfriends of the boys that I had only just been introduced to. Bonding over the fact that I was desperate for some female companionship, and also that I was the only single girl in the group, leading to the conclusion that they needed to be my wingwoman...all of them.

The night thereafter was spent finding suitable prospects for my whirlwind night of fun and romance, which I insisted wasn't necessary but also couldn't help but admit that it excited me just a little. It had been a while since I was close with a guy in that sense, and to be honest, the tequila shots that the girls had me doing was loosening me up in more ways than one.

Feeling the need for a break and some fresh air, I grabbed my purse and walked outside to sit along the retaining wall. We had reached that part of the evening where there was no chance I wasn't going to be allowed back into the club - the bouncers and security guards becoming more relaxed and carefree as it neared the time that the sun would reappear. Without thinking twice, I asked for a cigarette from some guys standing outside and a quick light, before returning to my little spot on the wall.

“They’re right bad for you, ya know” A voice to my right startled me.

“Jesus! You need to stop scaring me like that!” I shrieked.

“Nah not Jesus, just Chilly. However the beard has me thinking I do look a little bit God-like these days..no?” He says as he runs his fingers through the barely-there beard. Sure I could agree with stubble, maybe even a little bit more than stubble, but a beard? Not yet. However, I wasn't about to dim his sparkle.

“I like the beard, Chilly.” I confirmed.

“I like you, Mils” Wow ok. Straight to the point then.

“Well thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” I tried to play it off, it was obvious we had both consumed far too much alcohol this evening and the cigarette was currently working wonders in its purpose of sobering me up.

“Ya know, the girls were out there tonight looking for your Greek Adonis to come and sweep you off your feet. They were looking a bit too hard though, if you know what i mean” he sweet talks me, and its working.

“Wow Ben, you’re really out here laying it on thick tonight - factor 50 i would say. I’m sure you’re just looking through rose coloured glasses right now” I joked back with him. I can’t say I didn't notice all of his longing looks, extra attention to me, constant protection when we would be out in public, but I knew at the end of the week that I would be going back to Turin, so there wasn’t any point.

Finishing up our little chat (read: heavy flirting session), we headed back inside together to join the group. Before long, Jorgi comes up to me with a drink and a smug smile on his face.

“Che cosa?” (what?) I questioned him in Italian, trying to limit as many people understanding our conversation as possible.

“Cosa succede a mykonos, rimane a mykonos, no?” (what happens in mykonos, stays in mykonos, no?) He says as he leans into my ear. To anyone else it would just look like two friends trying to have a conversation in a loud club, but I understood his message loud and clear.

“non sto facendo niente di male, né l'ho mai fatto. non voleva etichette, quindi è quello che ha ottenuto” (i'm not doing anything wrong, nor have i ever. he wanted no labels so that’s what he got.) I say back firmly. Jorgi let go of my shoulders and moved to stand in front of me.

“It’s ok tesoro (darling), I’m sure Federico would agree with you” He said back to me in English, it was obvious that he wanted someone around to understand the premise of our conversation. He smiled cheekily at me, before taking a swig of his drink and dancing backwards into the crowd as I shook my head at him.

Jorgi and I developed the kind of friendship that would last through time. We were equals. We listened to each other's problems, offered the advice that we needed to hear & not necessarily wanted to hear. We promoted each other's happiness and tried to get each other to not take life too seriously. This was his way of bringing me back down to earth, reminding me of what I have waiting for me back in Turin, but also making sure I knew what was right in front of me. He left the decision up to me to make, but he played his part to make sure I knew all of my options. He really was a good friend, which would make my next career decision a little bit more challenging than anticipated.

Part 6. | parte sesta

[supernova-cas]

so @itsinjustbeing made this post and @mochadean added the tags and I wrote a little thing about Dean studying for his GED. 

The humidity surrounded him like a thick coat, seeping into the kitchen through the window screens, barely held at bay by the old fan whirring about two inches from Dean’s face. He wiped at his face with one hand, the other pushing down at the page he was reading, trying to stop the flapping page from flying away and taking the prep book with it. He was just on the verge of finishing the chapter, pen between his teeth as he ran his finger down the page when he heard the car pull up. Within moments he was up, the book flipped over and shoved far away from him, his own hands around a half-assembled rifle. By the time the screen door slammed shut he looked, for all intents and purposes, like he was just taking care of his weapon.

It was a moment before he heard the tell-tale sound of Bobby’s thick boots scuffing the floor and he sagged slightly, the tension draining out of him even before Bobby came into the kitchen and spoke

“You can put that down, boy, it’s just me.” He came in, groceries on one arm, a takeout bag on the other. “Brought dinner. Get your shit off the table and we can eat.”

“Thanks.” Dean put the rifle down sheepishly, and picked his book back up. He piled it up with the notebook he’d been writing in, the three different pens and the odd blue highlighter Bobby had found in a drawer somewhere that made up his studying tools. He dropped them down on the couch before coming back to join Bobby.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a bit before Bobby spoke up.

“I told you this morning. Your dad’s halfway across the country, he’s not coming back for another few weeks. Trust me, there’re plenty of jobs up there, and he’ll want to take them.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean answered around a mouthful of food. “I know that, he called last night.”

He’d picked up the phone, listened to John tell him about the job he was on, coughed a few times into the phone to try and make it convincing. Bobby had been skeptical of his plan at first, pretending to be sick to get the few weeks off without John realizing what he was doing. But Dean knew his father well enough to realize the moment Dean wasn’t going to be helpful John would be happy to drop him on anyone who’d take him, and understood him well enough to know that despite Bobby’s comments to the contrary Dean’s father wouldn’t get too worried when that sickness extended longer than a week or so. He chalked it up to his father wanting him to be tough. Trusting that Dean could handle whatever came after him, be it vamp or virus. It was a sign of his father’s trust in him and of course that only made what he was doing worse.

“So, there’s no reason to go throwing books about.” Bobby said.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean repeated.

Bobby looked like he was going to say something else but thought the better of it. Neither of them was very good at talking, but both of them understood the full unsaid conversation that hung in the air between them. Dean looked away, around at the cluttered room, down at the scratched table, anywhere but Bobby’s face. They lapsed into their regular silence until it settled again, back to comfortable.

Dean crumpled the trash up when they’d finished, throwing it out while Bobby took out a six pack and took one out. Dean reached for one, getting his hand slapped away.

“You done with what you wanted to do today?” Bobby asked in a tone that made it clear he knew what the answer was going to be.

“No.” Dean said it anyway, slumping back in his chair.

“Well then.” Bobby stuck the rest of them in the fridge.

Dean rolled his eyes but retrieved his books from the couch anyways, setting himself back up at the table and trying his best to refocus. It was hard, his mind kept trying to run in a million different directions, all directly away from the path the book was trying to take him. He’d been doing alright before but his mind had taken the break as a cue to shut down all functions responsible for understanding the numbers on the page and how he was supposed to be solving them.

This was why school was Sammy’s thing.

Still, Dean wanted to do this. He didn’t know why, knew he could never defend his case for it, but Dean wanted his GED. Even if right now his brain was fighting him about it. It wasn’t that he was stupid, he picked up on most the lessons in school easily enough when he was able to attend and even studying on his own, when he was able to keep his head down, when he got really drawn into the material, he was able to do fine. But now, suddenly he was faced with the practice questions and half of what he thought he’d known had flown right out of his mind. Fuck. Maybe he was stupid.

He sighed, flipping back through the chapter, trying to pin the knowledge back down, lock it up so it couldn’t fly away again. He was vaguely aware of Bobby working the phones in the background, his voice melding into the rest of the background noise, mixing with the old fan, the creaky chair he kept moving about in, the mosquito who was always just out of reach. Suddenly that whine was all he could focus on, unable to force his attention on anything else. He reread the same paragraph twice without taking anything in, the persistent droning impossible to ignore. He pushed his chair back, determined to find it and put an end to it. He tried to swat it but it was quick, darting out of the way every time. He waited another moment, until it seemed settled on the table before he swung his book down, crushing it with a loud, heavy thud!

For a moment there was blessed silence.

“Dean? What’s going on in there?” Bobby called from the other room.

“Nothing!” he answered back. “Mosquito.”

“So ya killed it with a hammer?” Bobby asked, coming back in. He took a moment to take in the scene. Dean, standing above the table, frustrated frown still on his face, the book slammed down onto the table face down, the back flipped over to reveal the past owner’s graffiti. He stared for about a second before he picked up the book, shut it and put it aside. He walked over to the fridge and took out another couple of beers, offering one to Dean.

“I didn’t finish.” Dean said.

“You’re finished for tonight.” Bobby said, gesturing for him to take it.

“You don’t think I can keep going?” Dean asked.

“I don’t think you should. You’ve been at it all day; you’ll be at it tomorrow. You’re not getting anything more done tonight.”

Dean took it wordlessly, stepping out of the kitchen out onto the back porch. Bobby followed after, sitting on the bench pressed against the wall.

“This is stupid.” Dean said finally. “This whole thing, me trying to study for this, lying to my father, it’s stupid. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Bobby waited until he was finished, taking a long drink.

“You done?” he asked. “With that little pity party of yours?”

“It’s not a pity party!” Dean turned back to face him. “I can’t even study properly, couldn’t even finish the section today.”

“So, you’ll finish it tomorrow.” Bobby answered. “You’ve been studying non stop since you got here, got your head bent over that book and takin a break right now aint gonna undo that. It’s just gonna let you focus tomorrow.”

“And if it doesn’t? If I fail, and this whole thing was just a waste?”

“Then we’ll do this all again I guess.” Bobby shrugged. “Listen boy, you’ve had a lot of stupid ideas. This is one of your rare sensible ones, don’t go screwin it up now by just giving up.”

Dean just shrugged, cracking open his beer and sitting down next to him. Between the two of them hung his agreement, his apology and his gratitude. Between them hung Bobby’s support, his acceptance.

Tomorrow he’d keep studying. Next week he’d take the test. And then it’d be over or they’d do this all again.

[vore-scientist]

Return of the Dragon King pt 1: Prison Break

[A non-sexual high fantasy GT/vore story with both hard/fatal+ other fantasy violence and safe/soft]

This story is a prose adaptation of an RP between @vixen525 and I. It takes place in one of her worlds and features mostly her characters.

Summary/Pitch: Separated from Sophia by the evil (and illegitimate) Prince Nero, Yonah must rescue his princess from Nero's devious clutches. With a collection of quirky fantasy characters as allies, Yonah aims to bring an end to Nero's reign and return the rightful heir to the throne.

But before that, he must escape from one of Nero’s prisons.

Story General Warnings: Return of the Dragon King overall will contain hard/fatal vore (in an intense fantasy violence style) along with soft/safe (the good stuff). Themes of abuse and torture as well. (There may be one instance of soft fatal that if I ever get that far I’ll warn for that specifically but it’s so far off from this it may never get written down)

Chapter Specific Warnings: This chapter contains all the story general warnings. This is NOT the chapter with soft/fatal. It’s hard only. It very much treads the line between hard vore and just standard fantasy violence. This part contains a very brief mention of attempted (and failed) sexual assault.

Onto the story:

----

For the 20th night in a row Yonah was replaying the moment in his mind, and like the 19 times before, this time was slightly worse than before.

It started with merriment, feasting, dancing, joking. Then transitioned to screaming, to blood, to Sophia being dragged away and him unable to stop it. And finally ended with waking up here, on a hard stone floor, in a room with no windows, with cold metal around his ankles and a chain attached to a back corner. With a terrible pounding in his head and an indescribable weight upon his core.

While he wondered why it had happened. Why this diplomatic mission to another world had been under false pretenses, however it wasn’t really worth dwelling on. He wasn't going to get answers here. All that he knew was he had failed. He had failed to protect Sophia. His charge. His friend. His princess. She was taken and he had let it happen!

After his 5th day in the prison cell he had given up trying to escape. Whatever that pressure was, pushing on his core, it stopped his magic. He had woken up without his robe, staff, and hat. For a normal wizard that would be a problem, but Yonah HaEsh was half FireWitch in addition to half giant. He had his own natural magic! Surely he could melt the cuffs and bars.

Nope. He could see the air shimmer with heat around his hands. He was generating magic, but it seemed to be… negated as soon as he tried to release it. All it succeeded in doing was make him tired. And hungry.

He was so hungry. The prison guards were giving him just enough food and water to stay alive for reasons that were beyond him. So he spent most of his time laying on the floor. Conserving his energy. For what purpose? For what event? None at all. He just hoped. And cried. Or at least tried to. His tears had long since dried up.

The screech of the prison bars sliding open grated upon his ears and he drew a harsh breath but did not give the guards the satisfaction of interacting with him. He had tried to rush at them a few times, just to have a little fun. But the chains weren’t long enough to let him reach the bars. All his antics got him was humiliation.

“Oy! Halfbreed Thing, you’re in luck,” came the voice of a nameless guard, “the warden decided to give you a treat tonight!”

Yonah didn’t respond. It was clearly sarcasm.

“He also said if you don’t eat up, you get nothing for a week!” And the door was closed again.

He still did not look. He had decided he wasn’t going to even touch what they had assumedly given him. It was probably poisoned, or drugged. Or both. He drew another breath.

That smell.

He finally looked. His heart racing. They wouldn’t… would they?

Standing with her back against the bars was a young woman with straight black hair, wearing a similar tattered outfit as himself. She must have been cold, and scared, but she was not shaking. Instead she stared right into his eyes. The fear in them was evident.

Now that his ears were no longer ringing he could hear her breathing. She was trying to calm down.

Apparently she succeeded. As she talked first.

"So... I guess they put you in here because you use magic too?" her voice was weak, and her accent thick upon his ears but he understood her well enough.

Yonah did not respond right away. Carefully he sat up, leaning against the back wall where his chains were connected, rattling them as they piled up.

“Well they certainly didn’t throw you in here so you could be my pet.” he snorted steam with his words, happy he could still do that much, and pleased him to see her concern at this display. So perhaps he could have some fun, even as her scent started to permeate his cell, leading his thoughts in another direction.

“No…” she answered, not moving any closer. “I doubt they’ve been feeding you well. I suspect they threw me in here in hope that you’d eat me.”

Yeah no shit. Had she heard the guard? Or was she too scared to listen. He had listened, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Being tossed a person to eat. How barbaric. Do they think I am some sort of feral animal?” His voice was hoarse with dehydration, and conflict. For he was considering eating her. Yonah HaEsh, despite being half giant, was not above eating smallfolk, if necessary. And she certainly smelled…delectable.

She shook her head “Many giants wouldn't hesitate if hungry enough… They may be normally polite to smaller folk but when half starved? All bets are off”

Yonah nodded, “I suppose so… Though I am only half giant.” He couldn't do more than suppose, as he did not know anything about giants of this world, though he remembered seeing one at Prince Nero’s castle. A little less than twice as tall as his own mother, and his mother was over 40ft tall! What he did know was that giants in his world would be tempted just like him, and while they were also normally polite… ish… their own survival was more important than the life of someone they did not know.

So why was he holding back? Well for one thing, she was out of reach. For another… He did not like the idea of being fed a person, it was insulting. The idea was nearly offensive enough to scare his hunger away. Nearly.

“Why you?” he hissed. Trying to chase away the remaining offensive thoughts. The mental images of grabbing her, sinking his fangs into her soft tasty flesh, and using his jaws and hands to rip her apart. The thoughts of how delicious it would be to finally satiate his hunger properly for the first time in weeks.

It took her a long minute to answer “I… keep escaping. I got out the door this time, nearly made it to the outer wall.”

“Ohhhh, curious” he breathed out, glad his ‘treat’ turned out to be interesting enough to distract his thoughts with. “You do not look like an escape artist. Or are you of hidden talents?”

She shook her head “The magic they use to… nullify the magic of others… doesn’t work on me. And my own magic doesnt like that im captive and kept… helping me escape”

Ohhhhh fascinating. He did not say out loud this time. “Sounds like you are a handful. Though perhaps you are rather, a mouthful. Or two in my case.” he smiled with all his fangs.

She swallowed nervously “Y-yes”

“Why don’t they just kill you? Are you important?”

She shook her head again “They are waiting for the execution order. That’s… why I’m here.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She took a breath. “If another prisoner kills me… they don’t lose their capital funding for executing a prisoner without the proper paperwork…”

“That’s where I come in” and he snarled “I don’t like being used as a tool. And I don't really want to eat you”

She nodded “That’s… good”

“But I am hungry.”

“Oh…”

“Why are you in this prison?”

She looked away. “I… killed someone. With magic.”

More fascinating by the second. “Why, would you do that.”

It was an obvious struggle for her to answer “It wasn’t… it wasn’t intentional. He pinned me up against a wall and started tearing off my clothes. My magic just... reacted. The next thing I knew he was dead”

Yonah snorted again “Should have been intentional!”

“I haven't had any formal training! My magic just happens!”

“Shame” he sighed. “Do you know why I am here?” he asked, changing the subject.

“You’re… a mage. A rogue one. Like I am.”

That was new to him, “A rogue mage?”

“Practicing magic is highly regulated, don’t you know?”

“No.” Yonah saw that made her very confused “I am not of this world”

She seemed to accept this easily. This world seemed to be more comfortable with the idea of other worlds than his own, which had only started to make contact with new realities. He had also decided she didnt need to know his story yet. For he had not made up his mind on keeping her alive, or eating her. If he ate her, then it would have been a waste of breath to tell his own tale of woe.

He tugged on his chains to pile them up and keep them from getting tangled. And for the next few minutes he occupied himself with this task.

“They stop-”

Yonah looked at her so fast his neck cricked. She started again.

“They stopped using shackles on me because the chains kept breaking. Perhaps I could” she took a single step forward, and seeing that Yonah did not react, took another. “I’m sure you would appreciate more freedom of movement.” She took another step.

“Well not all of us are so damn talented now are we?!” he growled. She took two steps back.

“Im trying to help you! Maybe I can figure out how to get it to work on you too!”

“A self proclaimed untrained mage!” he spat “and why would you help a monster like me?”

For as much as he wanted to be civil, he was also a monster. And as much as he tried to fight the temptation to be monstrous, he did not know if he could succeed.

“It wasn’t being a monster that got you in trouble! It was magic.”

She sounded very sure of that.

Yonah snorted “That is your own assumption”, and turned around to lay his head on the chains, facing the corner.

After a few minutes he heard her soft footsteps, and he craned his neck to look. She had gotten a lot closer than he expected and was reaching for his chains. She was clearly in the mood to help him. Unfortunately he was in a mood to play with his would be treat instead, and he did not have any confidence that she could help, so why not have fun.

“Are you sure that’s wise little morsel?” he sighed with a fanged smile.

Amazingly she did not back up but touched chains by his ankles.

“No. But sooner or later they will get the execution order signed. So my odds of survival are shit. But they are better if I free you.”

Yonah made his eyes glow with what fire he had left “Are they better? You said you were untrained.”

She looked embarrassed, “I’m hoping I can practice on these chains of yours. My magic does disable the nullification. We can work together to get out.”

“Untested magic is dangerous” yonah growled “Maybe I should just eat you!” he snapped his teeth.

Still she did not leave. Instead she stood up and glared at him “So what? I die and you survive another week until the next council meeting and your execution is approved?”

Yonah narrowed his eyes “Maybe I dont care about that anymore.” but he does not move either. “You dont know why im truly here. Maybe I deserve this!”

His fiery eyes still on hers, she retaliated “I dont care if you do! I need to get free, and I cant on my own. You want to be free to dont you? If I can use my magic, I can break these chains, disable the anti-magic on this room, save us both!”

Yonah rolled his eyes, losing their staring contest. He did not stop her from continuing her investigations of the chains. But his mind wandered, until he exclaimed.

“Maybe you’re a plant! Instead of using me to kill you, you’re here to kill me!” he jerked the chains away from her.

“I’m unarmed!” she insisted and scrambled forwards to maintain contact with the metal.

“You said they cannot chain you, that their anti-magic shit doesnt work on you, so yours does work, and it’s killed someone before!” He knew that this new panic was not helping him in the slightest, and yet he did not care.

“Most of my magic isn’t working! I just somehow break chains and disable the magic nullification! I don’t know how it works or how to activate it! But the fact I can means they want me dead so they stop having to catch me! And magic isn’t allowed and I definitely don’t have the indicator that I have special permission, those are super obvious.”

Yonah blinked “Could be lies! You could be spitting lies! Permission to use magic. How ridiculous”

“Everyone knows that the few legal mages have face tattoos to make them obvious”

Yonah breathed steam again and finally she backed away from the painful heat. “I dont! I don’t know anything about this world! You could say anything and I wouldn’t know if it was truth or lies!”

“Oh… right” she looked at her feet “You aren't from this world. That must suck as much as my own problems with my memory…”

She rambled a little more about how she was definitely a prisoner, it was obvious from her malnutrition, and that despite not being able to be kept in chains she had marks on her wrists and ankles from the failed attempts.

But Yonah was not listening anymore. Once again he turned away and was trying to cry himself to sleep.

So she took the opportunity to touch the chains near his ankles again.

“Careful now!” he hissed without looking at her. “You don’t want to get burned” Hearing her yelp as she touched the chains, which he had put his mind to pumping his fire into. Maybe he couldn’t melt them, but he could make them painful to touch.

He heard her curse, and then the chains rustled again as she grit her teeth and grasped the half giant sized links, whining in pain and holding back tears. 3 seconds were all she could manage before she had to stumble back, sitting on the ground and blowing on her burnt hands.

Yonah sat up and looked at the chains. He did not let his face show any surprise as he found rust and cracks that had not been there before.

“Wow. It didnt work. Big fucking surprise, some help you were, but I guess you were telling the truth about being being put here for me to eat.” he lay back down. “Maybe I’ll do that in the morning.”

Suddenly the pain in her hands was not as important as what the half giant had said.

“It started to work! But I couldnt hold on long enough!” she wailed, “I tried! I really tried, to help you’re sorry ass!”

“And you FAILED” he snorted back.

“Only temporarily!” she insisted

“And look where it got me. Nowhere. I’m going to sleep”

“If the chains were just a little cooler! Then maybe-”

“I told you to be careful. You have only yourself to blame for your failures and your injuries” he stated, fully aware it was his fault. And that he was sabotaging himself. And yet he couldn't stop himself.

“I was trying to help you. You don’t have to be so rude. We are stuck in the same situation and I am trying to make a difference.”

“I dont have to be polite either. Now you’re the one being rude, keeping me awake”

She crossed her arms in defiance of her own fear “You’re kind of an asshole. I thought maybe we could work together to escape but apparently you’d rather stay and be executed.” She stood up, glancing at her hands, “Guess I’ll just try to figure out how to disable the nullification and escape without you if you really are that opposed to working together.” She turned and walked back to the cell bars before sitting down again.

Yonah looked away, no longer amused by her company, for he was too tired, and too hungry, too angry. Mostly at himself for heating up the chains.

Of course, he couldn't sleep, even though he wanted to do so. After about 10 minutes he glanced at the human, who was making hand motions at the bars. He could just barely feel the sparks of magic failing to become embers at her will.

That got boring really quickly, and he noticed that, unlike earlier, she was shivering. Not with fear…

“You’re wasting your time, little one”

She gasped and jumped from her sitting position, nearly toppling over. He was not asleep like she had assumed. And now he was staring at her with those glowing eyes again, full of fire and hunger.

“I am not giving up” she yawned and shook even worse, “I have no desire to be executed, not by the prince, and not by you!”

Yonah’s eyes dimmed with compassion, “You can try again in the morning. You keep this up and you’re going to freeze to death”

To his surprise she snarled at him, “What do you care!? You obviously arent worried about execution, and I dont have much else to do at the moment!”

Yonah rolled his eyes “Do you want a warm place to sleep or not? I’m only offering once. Can’t imagine you’ve had a warm bed in a while”

“I- what?” she paused, processing what he said, “Warmth… sounds wonderful… But you talked about eating me in the morning!” so she did not step near him.

“I said maybe. So you don't have to worry about it until then” He considers for a moment “I’m still making up my mind. I dont want to be used as an execution method, but I am starving. However” he yawned, his fangs looking larger than before, “I promise not to eat you tonight, and I am very warm if you want to sleep in my arms.”

“This room is absolutely freezing…” she admitted, “But I dont like the idea of you waking up before me to have a snack!”

She still looked hesitant so he added “Tiddles won’t be able to bring anything with you still visibly uneaten”

Now her fear was replaced almost entirely with confusion “Tiddles?”

“One of the little guards who did this to us. Sneaks me food most nights. If he comes tonight, I promise that I will let you try again, in the morning, to break the chains, before I resume considering whether or not to eat you. How does that sound?”

“How… likely is this Tiddles to show up?”

“He appears most nights, but not the last, and he never skips more than one night in a row.”

“How about you promise to let me try again, regardless of if Tiddles shows up!” she was not about to take such a chance.

Yonah scrunched up his face “Fine.”

“Alright, that’s much better.” she took a step towards him again “It means you have to let me go, and you wont think about eating me until after I get to genuinely try to free us”

“If you’re not tucked out of sight soon, I dont get fed, and I’ll have have a much harder time not thinking about it” he threatened “Tiddles can’t claim he thought I ate you if you’re standing alive at the front of the cage!”

A few more steps, she was almost within reach… “Fine… I guess… I just want to try a couple more times, it will be quick”

His patience waring thin he made his eyes flash “but I want to sleep, and to get fed”

“It will only take a moment!” she stopped just out of reach.

“Tiddles often manages to get me an entire barrel of crap! I’ll be willing to share” his mind now on the food, he couldnt think of much else.

“Im starting to figure it out though”

Why was she so insistent! This was not the time! “You’re tired, and cold, and hungry. You try any more magic and you’ll just pass out.”

He had gotten to his knees but he deflated a bit, lowering down into a position not unlike a crouching dragon “So I offer one more time than I said I would. A warm place to sleep. A proper meal. Or you refuse, and I get angrier, I get hungrier, and you stay cold and my only option for dinner”

She hesitated and finally sighs, “You are probably right... I just got so close to escaping today... I was gonna use a wind spell to blast open all the doors when one of them tackled me...” She took the step forward that got her within reach, and Yonah slowly reached around her, stopping her rambles. “But maybe after a rest I’ll have better success”

Having held back long enough, yonah scooped her up and returned to his corner to curl around his new teddy bear, thin and cold as it was. In contrast, his own embrace is soft, pillow-like even. And warm. So very very warm. She tensed in his grip for only a moment before calming down and closing her eyes with a deep sigh.

“By the way, I didnt introduce myself. My name is Savina”

Not resisting the urge, Yonah nuzzled her with his face, his normally neatly trimed facial hair overgrown and tangled and in need of a wash. He was drinking in her scent, even if he was resisting getting a taste, “I didn’t introduce myself either. Now shut up or I’ll put your head in my mouth to shut you up. I hear Tiddles”

As he was facing the back wall, it appeared as if he was alone in his cell, as the footsteps got closer, along with scraping noise and soon, a jingling of keys. Unlike earlier, the screech of the door opening was not so bad, knowing what it meant.

“You awake big guy? Damn this thing is so heavy… I managed to get a lot of scraps so it’s not mostly water this time! Probably tastes just as bad as all the rest, worse since I couldn’t sneak any salt in... but better than nothing right?”

The only response Tiddles got was a slight movement of Yonah’s head. His bushy mane of unkempt black hair shifting. Then two orange lights appeared. The giant's eyes locked on him with anticipation and hatred.

The guard, Tiddles, who couldn't have been older than 20, dragged a barrel within reach of Yonah, though the prisoner did not make any move.

“The others were laughing earlier about how you got a decent meal tonight… but I dont see any plate. Not surprised it was a lie. Im sorry again that this is not seasoned. But…” He left and returned before Yonah could investigate the food. Holding a large sack, the smell coming from which made yonah take a very intense breath.

“I did bring these… They were going to be used to torture other prisoners. Tested them on me. Just one bite and I thought my tongue would burn up in my own mouth, I drank so much water I thought I would throw up. But maybe it’s not as intense for giants!”

Through his dehydration Yonah started to drool, the spicy smell of the hot peppers filling his half FireWitch brain.

The display of hunger caused Tiddles to freeze up a moment “Um… I’ll take that as a yes to these. Great Goddess they make my eyes water!” he set the sack down and went to the other back corner where an empty barrel was on it’s side.

“I’ll take this one, yes?” Tiddles didn’t wait for an answer but said “you’re… not as talkative tonight. Usually you threaten-joke about eating me along with the slop. You alright?”

As soon as Tiddles had moved away from the full Barrel and sack of peppers, Yonah Sat up and scooted over with one hand. Revealing the reason he was not talking. Savina was tucked into his elbow, having fallen asleep.

Tiddles seemed briefly transfixed by the woman. If yonah had to describe the expression the closest would be reverence. Before cringing away.

“That’s what they meant by a good meal!?” He shook off his surprise “what a load of dragon crap. You’re not some feral animal”

Yonah didnt respond to this continued attempt to bond with him as he dragged the barrel back to his corner and stuck his finger in, building up his fire to warm up the cold scraps and water. Tiddles made no more small talk and left him to his pitiful “meal”.

Once the contents of the barrel started to steam, Yonah nudged Savina awake. She was not happy about that.

“I was actually sleeping well, what the fuck”

Yonah set her on his lap, the barrel in front of them both. “If you dont eat some of this now, I’ll eat all of it. You wont get a single drop, but if you eat now, you wont make a dent in it noticeable to me”

She nodded, understanding, and put her hands into the barrel. Yelping in pain as the hot slop made contact with her burnt hands.

Grumbling about how she was an idiot, yonah rummaged around in his chain pile for a flat piece of metal. It was a band from a previous barrel that he had broken. That was the only time he had gotten an earful from Tiddles about how if he continued to do that, Tiddles wouldnt be able to sneak him more food. He was able, with some effort, to heat it, pinch it, and bite it into a sort of ladle, which he used to scoop up the scrap soup and hold it to Savina who was very grateful.

Even with his encouragement she ate very little. Yonah had no idea how long she’d been here, but it was likely longer than himself, and it was very probable that her stomach had shrunken, so he eventually gave into his own hunger and stopped trying to get her to eat more and let her slump against his middle and fall back to sleep.

But before he ate any of it he took the peppers out of the sack and crushed them into the prison soup. It took all his self control not to just eat the peppers straight up. So he rewarded himself by licking the juice from his fingers.

He would have downed the contents of the barrel like a shot but resisted as it would have wasted all his patience preparing it for better taste. And even if it was literal scraps in unsalted water, hunger was the best seasoning. And the peppers, made this the best thing he’d tasted in the time since he woke up in this cell.

It made it much easier to not think about eating the woman in his lap as he too lay down to fall asleep.

---

He woke first, and during the hours of the night his stomach had become rather empty again. Though he kept his promise and resisted thinking about eating her. He did not, however, resist tasting her; he never made a promise involving tasting.

“NO!” she yelped and sputtered as he licked her face like a very large dog waking up it’s owner, clearly convinced he was going to eat her, panicking.

He stopped licking her, But he was not listening to her protests. The moment she yelled the world felt lighter. He felt… no, no time to dwell. He tossed Savina aside and focused on generating a lot of fire into his ankle cuffs. It wasnt enough to melt them, but it was enough to make them soft. Soft enough that he could pull and stretch them and get free.

And then the feeling was gone. Back to that soul crushing feeling that had been ever present, as if it was never gone.

“What did you DO?” he snarled as he rubbed his freed ankles, which were red and raw from the previously tight metal cuffs.

Savina got up, looking frazzled with one side of her hair sticking up and out at odd angles due to half-giant spit. “What I was trying to do last night! Hey!”

Yonah crawled to her and picked her up, putting his face close to hers to demand, rather loudly “Do it AGAIN”

Defiantly she took his gaze and his rank breath “I wish I could! Like I said before, and like you just saw, I can’t do this on purpose! It just happens!”

In a rage his eyes flash and he bares his teeth “Fucking useless!”. His urge to throw her against the wall lost out to his being touch starved and instead he sat back down to hold her just a little too tight.

He did not fail to notice that a small hint of the relief of pressure occurred when she gasped at his moment of rage.

“So. Did that count as your morning try? Should I start considering whether or not to eat you again?”

She stiffened in his grasp “that wasn’t intentional! But doesn’t it prove what I was saying, that I am too useful to consider eating, that with practice I can succeed?”

“I already got my legs free. I can reach the bars now. Reckon i can try smashing them… and if I eat you i may have the strength to do it” he huffed. With a small amount of food and a night’s sleep, what he had was the energy to be a massive dickhead again. “So you would be helping me.”

“Those bars are heavily reinforced with the prison magic! They’ve kept giants bigger than you in this prison!”

“I’d still like to try, so you’re lucky I want company more than a proper meal right now,” he chuckled against her. She was so skinny she wouldn't even be a proper meal, maybe half of one.

“Please let me try again later to disable the nullification. Then we can both get out and get decent food” she sounded both desperate and angry.

“I know exactly what I’m eating if I get out” his eyes flashed again and he licked his lips.

Savina shuddered but did not sound disgusted when she said “i think i have an idea of what… or who… that might be”

“So, are you going to try again or what?” Yonah was getting impatient.

“Will you be ready to break down the bars when the magic reinforcement is gone?” she asked.

Yonah backed up against the wall, bracing himself so he could charge. If she succeeded.

Savina went to the front of the cell, grasped the bars and closed her eyes, muttering. Occasionally she let go and made hand gestures.

Nothing.

Maybe she needed encouragement. Yonah growled at her. Low and threatening. Savina stiffened and he felt the pressure lift, very slightly, very briefly.

“Get on with it!” he hissed.

“I’m trying!” she shot back, walking to the center of the cell, it didnt seem to matter where she was.

Then she screamed, her whole body hitting the ground as suddenly Yonah was on top of her, having pinned her under a hand. He snarled in her face “Maybe I should just eat you then! At least my last meal will be a tasty one!”

This succeeded in having the desired effect. Whatever the nullification was, it lifted. However he could feel it coming back.

“NO! I’m trying, give me one more chance, I know I can do it!”

He was not listening to her. He had confirmed his theory. Without hesitation he took her left arm in his jaws. She started crying and screaming, Pushing at his face to pull away. “Stop Stop! You’re hurting me!” Her voice was shrill.

/That’s the idea/ he thought.

With a sickening CRUNCH and a shriek, it was Yonah’s turn to be thrown, against the wall.

Not that he cared. Not one bit.

The magical nullification was gone.

From the entire prison. With no signs of coming back.

Keeping his promise not to eat her, and extending that promise to any part of her, Yonah crawled over to Savina and opened his jaws to release the nearly severed arm, along with at least a gallon of bloody drool. Savina just sobbed. Hmmm she could bleed out. That would also be counter to his promise, in spirit, if not in word. He rubbed a thumb and finger together until they were red hot and pressed the tip of the finger to her shoulder.

The scent of burning flesh filled the air as he cauterized her wound. But there were more important things to take care of now.

Fueled by adrenaline, hunger, and literal fire in his veins, yonah gripped his prison bars, making them red hot. In a few moments he wrenched them apart and he was out. He barely noticed the flash of light behind him as he stepped out of his cage.

The alarms hadn't even started ringing by the time he ran into the first unfortunate guard.

----

It was the alarm bells that brought Savina back to earth. She sat up, and blanched as a sticky arm rolled off her chest and into her lap. She was still covered in blood but the wound had sealed. For all her lost memory she did recall something very important. She should keep her arm. Holding it kept her from trying to touch her shoulder. She had never experienced anything so painful in her life-

No… wait. She had experienced something more painful… Now her head throbbed too! Nevermind any of this! She had to find the half giant mage, he was her ticket out. Even with the magic nullification gone, she wouldn’t get far drained of her own magic and severely injured.

It wasn’t hard to find him. All she had to do was follow the trail of carnage and busted cell doors.

The first guard she found had no head, and a chunk of a shoulder missing. Blood pooled on the ground from the massive bite. Hmmmm. He had a nice sword. Putting her arm down momentarily, She took the sword and a belt to sheath it. It was a bit tricky to get the belt off the person and onto herself but she managed. Before she took her arm off the ground and continued on, not caring to avoid stepping in the blood. .

More dead guards lined the halls as she progressed. Most of them were missing their heads, some of them burned to a crisp. But many were only missing their limbs, or had a bite taken out of the side. Some of those were still living. One in particular had been bitten from the hips down, their guts spilling out onto the floor. She decided not to use her sword to put them out of their misery. Her excuse being that it would be too much effort to put her arm down every time.

Finally she caught up to the large mage. He was in one of the storage rooms where the more dangerous items confiscated from mages were kept. He was ransacking it, shoveling items into something, but finished as she entered and stood up, putting a hat on his head. If he wasn’t so large and didn’t have such a distinct physique, she might not have recognized him.

Dressed in a stunning outfit of mostly blues and golds, with a massive wide brimmed pointed hat to match, his hair now shining and tied back in a segmented pony tail, standing up to his full height and holding a majestic wooden staff, the once brutish creature from the cell was looking more like a person. Except for the fire in his eyes and blood and viscera hanging from his jaws.

With misplaced confidence she walked right up to Yonah and holding the shoulder end of the severed arm she swung to smack him in the ankle. He had on boots now and she wasnt sure he felt that until he looked down at her.

“You FUCKING ASSHOLE!” She bellowed “You TORE my arm off! Why would you do that?!”

He looked at her angry and quizzically “The anti-magic field is gone. It worked.”

She did not back away from his gaze, since he was not currently trying to eat her she figured he wasn’t going to. Clearly he had not hesitated with the guards. She waved the arm around in frustration "you didnt have to BITE IT OFF"

Yonah crouched down to snarl “Clearly I did. You weren’t in enough… danger to disable the field. I’m rather clever you know.” Without asking he scooped her up to hold her up to his face with a cheeky, blood stained grin, “After you told the story of your assault, I started to put the pieces together. Mortal peril seems to do the trick nicely”

“I still dont think you needed TO BITE MY ARM OFF,” she repeated.

Once again she used the severed arm to slap him, now in the face.

He blinked in a kind of shock and then bared his teeth “I think you’ve lost your arm privileges”

His first instinct was to get the wrist between his teeth and gulp the arm down. But… he still felt like he should keep his promise. And now that his belly was half filled with chunks of prison guard he could think clearer.

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU BASTARD!”

Savina shrieked as the giant man pinched her arm, the severed arm, plucking it from her weak grasp. His eyes flashed and it was lit up like a match.

Lost for words she watched as her arm burned into ash before her very eyes, the giant man grinning once again.

Now she was shaking with rage “I COULD HAVE RE-ATTACHED THAT”

His grin became a scowl “How in this reality was I supposed to know that?”

“Weren't you listening, you didnt even need to bite it off in the first place! My magic was starting to work!”

He talked as he placed her onto his shoulder, securing her to the harness he had found with his belongings.

“Didn’t I? We dont know that. Guess we will have to experiment later” he smiled wickedly, marching out of the room “But right now, I’m still hungry and there’s still more guards left alive.”

As he said this a guard rushed around the corner with a crossbow and fired. Yonah, having heard the footsteps just jerked his staff and the bolt exploded. He snatched up the guard, put the poor fucker’s head in his mouth and bit down, while pulling the body away. The sound was similar to when he’d bitten her arm, and blood spurted from the neck onto his face, and Savina’s entire person.

Yonah swallowed the head and tossed the body aside “I can’t eat them all at my size even if I only eat pieces. I can burn them, or crush them” he explained as yet another guard appeared which he simply squashed by slamming his staff down upon, “but I think we need some help. The human prisoners do not seem so eager to get back at their tormentors as I had thought.”

“They are running away from you. If you weren’t on a massacre they would probably be taking the advantage to riot and get revenge.”

“So we need more monsters.”

As he continued through the prison he broke every occupied cell, letting the prisoners run, and killing every guard with an intense savagery. But the most horrific thing, in Savina’s opinion, was when he picked up whole and alive guards and tossed them into his hat.

Eventually he broke into a cell and the prisoner inside did not immediately cower or run, but stood up, eyes reflecting in the darkness. A tall pale man with dark hair smiled with sharp fangs.

“That’s a vampire!” Savina informed him. The vampire bowed.

“A very blood starved vampire, and I could smell the flood coming from the other side of the prison, yet I was too weak to break myself free once I felt the magic nullification just, go away. Was that you?” he stared at Savina, not Yonah.

Savina gingerly touched the raw, burned flesh of her shoulder and looked very annoyed, “Yes. it was me.”

“I’m going to feast now, as I see you have been doing, mysteriously small giant”

“Don’t fill up on the ones I’ve killed, take out the ones still alive” Yonah instructed.

“Wise words,” said the vampire, “though I will take a little of this one, just to gain back my strength.”

Before leaving yonah sniffed at the vampire. Then reached up into his hat and pulled out a fancy, though sadly wrinkled and dirtied, suit. And tossed it at the vampire.

“Smells like you”

The vampire stood up from taking a drink of blood from the guard who Yonah had decided to merely kick against a wall.

“My clothes! You are a gentleman monster!” And with a snap of his fingers swapped out his prison outfit for his old one. “I feel more like myself already!”

Done with the small talk, Yonah moved on. It was time to get out of this place, with hopefully minimal distractions. He would still make a snack, a charred corpse, or a bloody pulp out of any guard he came across.

But it was only a few cells later that again, the prisoner did not immediately scream or flee. Yonah could sense a very eerie magical aura from her, she was pale like the vampire but he suspected she was not one. She smiled at him like the vampire but her teeth were flat.

“My dear emancipator, did you come across a spider necklace during your rampage? I would very much like to have it back.”

That was odd enough that Yonah decided not to ignore it and instead reach into his hat. He did not recall a spider necklace so he could only think the words. An object indeed fell into his hand. Which he tossed to the woman who squealed like a giddy teenager as she caught it.

Putting it on she rubbed the shining black thorax of the obsidian spider inlaid on the silver medallion.

That eerie aura from before increased 100 fold, followed by the chittering, skittering, buzzing of millions of tiny legs and wings. Unlike Yonah’s cell, this woman’s had a window. And through it marched or flew an unimaginable number of insects and arachnids.

Yonah took a step back. But the plaque of bugs was swarming into the prison from every window, every crevice, every crack in the wall, every broken pipe.

“My children will clean out this place” she giggled, though it was closer to a witch’s cackle.

Yonah backed away from her. Deciding that it was now time to leave this wretched place, confident the bugs could take care of the rest. It was by her merciful magic that the bugs avoided him entirely, and seemed to be able to scramble away from his footsteps even as he started down the corridor.

Ah, another guard, coming out of a nearby door, a good distraction from the creepy crawlies. He rushed and shoved the guard up to their torso into his mouth and got ready to bite down. As the ribs started to crack between his teeth the taste of this guard matched up to a familiar smell.

Releasing his jaws he held a gasping, screaming Tiddles.

“If you dont want that one, my babies will happily take him!” The bug witch called from behind him.

Ignoring the creepy aura yonah wheeled around snarling “He’s MINE” and he secured the flailing young man to his shoulder.

“Suit yourself” said the witch, “but he seems to not like you very much, and I am not overly fond of him myself”

Tiddles was indeed trying to free himself, earning him a swift flick to the head. “Probably hurts with those broken ribs to struggle like that, little one. I will keep you safe.”

Without another word Yonah turned back. Enough of this. He pointed his staff at the wall and blasted a hole through, stepping outside. Still in the walled compound he did not take a fresh breath of freedom just yet. He ran for the walls.

Arrows and crossbow bolts rained down at him. Fine. It was time for some big magic. Yonah stopped and took his staff, raising it into the air he found in it the perfect spell. He swirled it around and chanted. The morning sky, which was clear, crackled, and a swirling storm cloud gathered overhead.

The guards on the ramparts screamed as bolts of lightning struck them, leaving Yonah free to take down a section of wall and flee into the forested mountains.

It was after he had been half running half jogging for 15 minutes that he stopped and sat down against a cool boulder shaded by the trees. Or rather he nearly collapsed. One big gorey feast after weeks of starvation would not immediately restore him. That would take time. He had been running on the reserves of his magic, adrenaline, and a bloodlust.

The moment he closed his eyes to rest however, he felt Tiddles renew his struggling.

“Why do you keep this up” Yonah mumbled, not looking at Tiddles, but feeling him freeze.

“I dont want to die!” the young man squeaked. “I saw you eat the other guards!”

“Well then aren’t you in luck that I filled up on them? I had enough to be satisfied for a while.”

That did not calm Tiddles down any more, the struggling was back “You kept me as leftovers!” he shrieked.

“Naw” Yonah said and reached into his hat to draw out an intact, but dead, guard, “I already did that.”

He felt Tiddles faint at that declaration. This did not bring Yonah any joy, as Tiddles’ terror had done before. Being so full Yonah just returned the corpse to the pocket space that was his wizard hat.

“So, where to now?” Savina said after five minutes “We need to get going, surely someone will try to follow! There is more than one shift of guards and they will be looking for all the escaped prisoners, especially you, who was responsible!”

“I think the bug witch will make sure no one does” yonah said, though it was more likely that at least one idiot would manage to slip away. “But I am tired, We need to find a cave or something to hide out in to recoup my… I mean our strength”

“I can help with that”

As if on cue the bug witch stepped out from behind a tree. Yonah eyed her suspiciously. Savina was too hurt and too exhausted to do the same.

“Oh really? And why would you?”

She just laughed “You saved me? And you returned my amulet to me! I owe you big time. By the way, you look just awful. Would you like my children to clean you up?”

“What do you mean?”

Before she answered there was more buzzing in the air as wasps swarmed around her “these little gals are very efficient! I promise they will not sting”

“They cannot hurt my humans either!” he said, nervous about what was about to happen.

“Of course”

He still held his breath as the wasped charged at him and his companions. Savina screamed as well before she smartly held her breath too. Tiddles was the luckiest, unconscious for the whole thing.

It was over in just a minute, thank the gods, as Yonah would have to take a breath. Still, he sneezed and a few bugs flew out. Savina was breathing heavily.

“So, bug witch,”

“Cait!”

“Cait… What’s a nearby place for a big monster to get some rest?”

The woman considered “Hmm… The woods that way are decent. Bears will be scared off by you. Humans should leave you alone. There’s a cave in those woods if you want extra shelter. I want to get back to my home but I can have one of my babies guide you there”

“That would be much appreciated” Yonah focused and gathered up more strength to stand up. And then froze in place as the largest drider he had ever seen came into sight.

“Babe!” he called, ignoring yonah and scooping up the witch into a hug that transitioned into messy kisses.

“I got out of the prison!” she declared, “this nice big fellow helped me! Got my amulet!”

The Drider was a full head taller than Yonah and eyed him over with all 8 eyes before nodding. From between all of his feet a smaller, but large dog sized tarantula, scampered up to Yonah.

“Charlie here will lead you to shelter!” said Cait, “Now I haven't been home in a long time”

And with that, the witch and the drider left.

Charlie made a hissing sound while scraping her feet on a rock to get Yonah’s attention. She led Yonah to a large rocky incline and eventually to the mouth of a cave.It was large enough that if he crawled, he could get in. Which he did without hesitating.

The cave was larger in the inside and he probably could have stood up but he stayed sitting.

The spider stayed at the entrance of the cave, made a little dance, and then disappeared.

“Seems safe enough…” Yonah said. He unharnessed Savina so she could sit in his lap. “Guess what, I was lucid enough during my rampage that I picked up food that wasn’t dead guards!” and from his hat he got out some bread and cheese, and even a barrel of water.

“Um… no thanks” she said.

“You must eat, Savina”

“Im too nauseated from the pain.”

She did look a little green now that she said it.

“I have a healing potion… it should numb the pain a bit.” This he took from a sleeve. A small vial. Just a single ounce. It was like a grain of rice in his palm “It will even help with your shoulder, to at least regrow the flesh around it and stop infection”

She took it, and still looking like putting anything in her mouth would make her vomit, she downed it like a shot.

30 seconds later she felt much better. Or at least, felt less pain… She still felt like complete shit. But took the food with her good arm and started eating.

“I dont know why you brought him along…” she said, referring to Tiddles through a mouthful of bread.

“I doubt someone as kind as him works at an evil prison if he has a happy home to return to. Plus if i had let him go.. The other prisoners might not have been so kind to him. He was still a guard.” Yonah yawned, “Fuck. Im tired. Didnt we just wake up like, an hour ago?” he asked.

“Sure but you just broke a prison” Savina pointed out.

“I did… didn’t I…” Yonah tried to lay down but found that didn’t work with Tiddles on his shoulder. So he resigned himself to sleeping upright for now.

Still half starved, Savina did not manage to eat much. So yonah put the food back. He found a outcrop of rock that he could lean against and put an arm protectively in front of Savina. She put her own remaining arm over his. And they both fell asleep at the same time.

Even through the exhaustion of his over half a month in prison, and the torpor his kind got from a full belly, Yonah HaEsh heard the quiet footsteps of someone entering the cave.

Yet his brain was still slow to react. He opened his eyes and stared down.

Kneeling in his lap, holding Savina’s arm to his fanged mouth, moments away from biting down, was the vampire.

----

[FIN]

UHHHH thanks for reading. If you liked this please let me know. If this fits your blog theme please reblog it!

I hope you enjoyed this. and I hope to have more of it for you in the future. lots more adventure to come!

[ill-skillsgard]

Faust x Faith - No Looking Back

Warning: 18+ smut, public sex, violence, blood, arson, implied death, mentions of non-consensual touching (nothing explicit and no r-words used,) mentions of stalking, unconsciousness, anti-religious themes, strong language.

Note: Hey, hey. I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but haven’t had much time. This isn’t based on any requests—just something I feel needs to happen to move the universe along. After this, I’ll be basing future FxF stuff off drabble requests instead of going story-heavy for a bit. Likes, comments and reblogs are suuuper ‘ppreciated!

Summary: - Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration - 3.6K words -

Faust makes good on his word to protect Faith, taking drastic measures to assure her assailant never bothers her again.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Thin raindrops pattered the man's leather jacket as he walked through the streets with his hood drawn up and his eyes low. For two days, the drizzle persisted and melted the black snowbanks into slush. Though the dismal atmosphere kept most inside, Sven had good reason to travel across town on foot. The promise of a girl's company waited at the end of his route, and he put off his regular nightly routine of masturbating to fetish porn for—what he hoped was—the real thing.

He glanced at his cracked phone screen every few minutes to check in with her, making sure she hadn't changed her mind, that she was serious. From the earnestness of her messages and the speed at which she replied to his questions, he determined she meant what she said about wanting to meet. Finally, his luck was turning. He’d show that miserable bastard Faust who was the better man.

- What abt ur bf? Lol

- What about him? Not here, is he?

- Thought u were a good girl.

- Haha, not really. Are you close?

- Ya. Y r we meeting at this random place?

- I need you to promise you won't tell a soul. If you can prove that to me, maybe we can keep meeting up.

- Lol ok. I PROMISE I won't say a word😉

- Thank you. Hurry, please. It's cold out!

- Be there in 5. I'll let u wear my jacket altho idk might not need it😉

- Hehe omgosh. You're making me blush.

- I'll make u do way more then blush baby. Just wait.

Sven lengthened his strides and turned the corner onto a hill leading toward the industrial area of town. Down the slope, he walked past several warehouses and legions of trucks parked inside barbed-wire fencing. It was a peculiar site to meet up, but his rendezvous insisted on a place nobody would think to look.

Betting his night would take an erotic turn, Sven popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed away the cigarette taste. He was seconds away from the spot she chose to meet, and his chest constricted with excitement. His boots crunched over gravel and garbage as he walked down a narrow alley between two faceless buildings. There was an open lot at the end of the lane, where he assumed she was waiting. As he made his way through the dimly lit alley, he whistled to make his presence known. The shrill tune reverberated off an overflowing dumpster to his left, and as he stepped to clear the reeking trash receptacle, something hard and blunt swung out at eye-level and flattened him to the ground.

Dazed and blinded from the sudden strike, he tried moving his mouth, but only a bubble of blood popped from his lips. A piercing stream of sound filled his ears as the edges of his vision turned dark. A large black figure came into view above, haloed by the soggy grey sky in the deepening veil. The featureless shadow chuckled deeply before a heavy boot's tread put out his lights.

~*~

Several hours passed before Sven's eyelids shuddered. By then, his assailant had had plenty of time to tie him to a wooden chair and organize his instruments of punishment. A headache blistered through the man's skull, throbbing in his eye sockets until he gained enough consciousness to open them. When he saw the person who had knocked him out, his throat closed and the gasp ripping through came out high-pitched.

"Faust... Please... Don't—" Sven hiccoughed. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY!"

Faust, who had been facing the doorway at the end of a long red runner, turned toward Sven, holding a hammer's handle in one hand while cradling the head in the other. A malicious smirk peeked out from a curtain of black hair. He took a step forward, the clomp of his leather boots echoing through the church. Each step made a menacing sound that bit down on Sven's nerves and rattled his sensitive skull.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know you hate me, but please, don't hurt me. I swear I'll never talk to her again!"

Faust approached, flashing the obsidian hammerhead. He tossed the tool in his grip and stuck his hand into his pocket, producing several five-inch nails.

"No! God, no, please! Faust! Don't do this!"

The black-haired giant stopped to admire the curve of the hammer’s prongs. Sven looked around the empty church and saw a jerrycan taking up space in a nearby pew. He immediately started struggling against the jute rope binding his wrists and ankles to the chair as Faust drew nearer, smile uncoiling.

"I already gave you the chance to never talk to her again. Remember?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry means fuck all to me. You should know that. The only reason you left the campsite with your dick intact is because of the witnesses," Faust said, then spun around with his arms out, showcasing their solitude. "Now, it's just you and me."

"Please don't," Sven muttered through swollen lips. "Fuck, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing a sorry sack of human waste can provide this world to make me change my mind."

"SHE LIED!"

Faust jingled the nails in his jacket, reminding Sven who held the weapon.

"Whatever she told you... It's not true! I was at the party, but I didn't do anything to her!" Sven's voice cracked.

"Oh... So you didn't follow her into my bedroom?"

"No! I talked to her for a minute, and that's all. That's all, I swear, Faust. Don't kill me."

The stomp of boots neared the altar where Sven struggled in the chair. He twisted to loosen the rope and slipped one hand out. Faust grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the arm of the chair, readying a nail between his lips as he gripped the hammer. Sven let out a scream, stifled instantly by the hammerhead. Faust wedged the metal between his teeth and hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll use this to smash your teeth out like a goddamn window. Understand me?"

Sven nodded and quaked as Faust placed the tip of the nail against the soft, flat part of his forearm.

"Stay still. If I fuck up and hit the Radial or Ulnar artery... You could bleed out before I'm done. Gotta get it right between the bones." Faust slapped the pale skin to reveal blue veins. He pressed the nail’s tip in place and rose the hammer above his head, bringing it down and stopping short of the head as Sven shrieked.

Faust cackled. "Jesus Christ, dude. Did you really think I was gonna nail you to a chair?"

Sven groaned, relieved and moist with cold sweat. "Faust, I'm serious. Please, man. You gotta believe me."

His dark laughter continued, bouncing off the high ceilings, the wooden pews and polished floors. As Sven let out his own nervous chuckle, Faust brought the hammer down in one swift pull, then slapped his hand over Sven's gaping mouth to stifle the screams. Howling, Sven rattled his head back and forth as a searing bolt of pain tore through his right arm, crackling in his shoulder where it burned and burned.

Faust tore his phone out of his back pocket and brought up a video, slamming the screen into Sven's face. The video of him grabbing Faith in his room while he was states away watching the live feed from the camera he'd set up on the desk.

"I knew these little cameras would come in handy. See? I know what you did, you stupid fuck. And you know what else? I would have just beat the shit out of you had I not stopped by your place before our little meeting."

Sven whined, tears pouring from his eyes in steady streams.

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I went into your room... Saw some interesting things on your computer. At first, I thought it was just standard fucking creep shit. Snuff porn, torture... Teen girls. None of that surprised me... Until I dug around and found your little stalker file buried in your folders. You didn't even encrypt it. How fucking stupid are you?"

"I'm sorry," Sven shook.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry for touching her. I should have left her alone."

"What'd you think was gonna happen? That she wouldn't tell me? Or that I wouldn't believe her? And now I know you've been following Faith around, taking pictures of her, you fucking predator. And what about those other women, huh? You sorry about them, too?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I know I have problems! I'm trying to get help. Please, Faust. If you let me go, I promise I'll do it. I'll get better. I haven’t hurt anyone!"

Faust shook his head slowly, grunting in refusal. "No. I meant what I said when I told you I'd crucify you if you went near Faith again. I'm doing the world a favour."

Sven hung his head and bled from the grievous wound pinning him to the chair, shuddering weakly from his injuries. Faust would never relent. He'd witnessed the drummer's cold disdain, the malignant hatred living inside that made him turn to the dark with open arms. Faust wasn't an actor. He pledged himself to the darkness with unyielding conviction, never one to take such things lightly. This realization depleted Sven's will to reason with the man.

Faust gripped another thick nail and drove it through Sven's left arm, smiling as blood dripped from the wood onto the church altar. The violent yelps filled Faust with morbid delight as he pressed the bloodied hammer under his victim's chin and raised his face.

"You're gonna die tonight, Sven."

"What makes you better than me? You'll be a murderer," Sven stuttered. "You hurt people, too."

"You and I are not the same. Don't ever compare yourself to me. You're a coward, and I warned you. Tread on what's mine, and I'll destroy you. That's what I said."

"All this over a girl? Are you fucking crazy!?"

Faust stooped to one knee, looking up at Sven as though the insult had cut him. Faust's brows arched, bottom lip jutting outward as he studied Sven, who closed his eyes. Then, Faust rose to his feet, leather stretching from the motion. Faust tapped his chin, smiled, and leaned over to whisper, "yes... Totally fucking crazy."

With a powerful kick to the chest, Faust sent the chair and Sven toppling backward. He then unzipped his pants, pulled out his manhood and giggled as he emptied his bladder on the weeping man. While Sven cried and moaned, Faust closed his zipper, whistling merrily. He left Sven on his back and snatched the jerrycan from the pew, taking slow, calculated steps while twisting off the cap and dousing the altar in gasoline.

As the gas trickled, Sven's desperation mounted. He could not flail, so he screamed. Faust gently reminded him what he'd do to Sven's teeth if he carried on shouting. The pinned man blubbered and begged, but Faust ignored his pleas. Inside his head, all Faust heard was the sound of flames rushing into a circle around Sven, crackling over the carpet and up the old church's wooden beams. By the time the roof caught fire, Faust had planned on being long gone.

"Please, Faust... You'll regret this! I know you're a serious person, but this is too far. You won't be able to live with yourself!"

"Wrong. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let a vulture like you walk this planet freely." Faust poured a trail down the floor runner, far away from the altar. He tossed the can aside and looked up at the Catholic saints' stained-glass portrayals and Jesus at the center of it all, staring down with sad eyes. Faust took a book of matches from his pocket and ripped one from the bunch, running its tip across the ignitor strip until a small flame burst to life. Faust flicked the match to the ground without a second thought, and the flame ate up the gasoline trail swiftly. The church was illuminated, and the colourful glass windows came to life. Faust raised his eyes to the forlorn Jesus and leered while the fire spread.

He did not stay to admire his work or revel in the cries of a man burning alive. Faust fled before the fire consumed the church, not once looking back or wondering if his victim had somehow escaped. He trudged through puddles of slush, hair swinging in the wind, white shadows of breath leaving his mouth.

It was time to get back to finish the tour. But he had one more stop to make.

~*~

Faith left the mall after helping close the book store. She received small smiles and nods from the mall staff as they locked doors and unfolded security gates. Some of the people she had spoken to before, and some she had only seen in passing. Though she returned their pleasantries, inside Faith was fretting. She tried not to worry about her boyfriend or ask where he was under strict orders to go about her day as usual.

She stepped into the evening air as the sun sank, taking the blue from the sky along for the descent. Wisps of white cloud stretched across the pink and violet above. Faith took in a deep breath and walked to the bus stop situated between a movie theatre and a dollar store. She popped her earbuds in and turned on a song that reminded her of Faust; one he wouldn’t like. His music taste had no room for the upbeat indie rock she enjoyed. Still, she smiled when the lyrics reminded her of him.

The scent of cigarette smoke caught her attention, and she looked around, finding no culprit. She wondered where the smell came from if nobody was around but soon forgot when the city bus appeared in the distance. It had to make a long trek around the parking lot before it pulled up at the movie theatre. Faith readied her bus card to scan as another cloud of smoke enveloped her senses.

Faith whirled around, and there he was, all black and leather, white teeth clutching the filter of a cigarette. Faust smiled, his words bolting from his mouth as she clamped her arms around him and crushed her face into his chest. The leather and musk brought tears to her eyes. She ripped out her earbuds and tried not to weep.

He hushed her, lifted her off the ground and retreated into the shadowed alley between the theatre and the store. By the time the bus pulled up, Faust had pressed her against the brick wall behind the building.

"Faust. Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was so worried," Faith gasped.

"Sh, don't ask questions, baby." Faust smothered her mouth, holding her thighs around his waist.

"Mm—I love you. Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here! I love you so freaking much."

"I know you do," Faust breathed against her lips. "I love you, too, babe."

"Tell me where you've been!"

Faust shook his head and kissed her neck instead. She raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hood down so she could see him unobstructed.

"Told you... Don't ask... Mmkay?... Stop asking... Just let me... Mm—fuck!"

Faith pulled his pelvis inward with her thighs, rubbing against his crotch and the heavy bullet belt wrapped around his hips. In their cloud of lust, Faust pushed his black jeans down just enough to free his erection.

"Fuck, I love your little skirts. Makes it so easy," Faust murmured.

The thought of Faust showing up disquieted her, but his lips on her skin and his desire thwarted these anxieties for a while. She set aside her questions, happy to have him in her arms again and overcome by arousal. When he stretched her panties aside and pushed into her, they both froze in expressions of excruciating ecstasy. Faust tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Faith clutched his shoulders, already writhing from the intense fulfillment between her legs.

Just as she thought Faust might drop her, he bent his knees and hoisted her higher up on the wall. In his arms, she weighed close to nothing. She missed feeling tiny against him.

"Miss my cock?" He growled in her ear.

"Yes, baby. Oh my gosh, of course, I missed it. I missed my big man."

"Yeah? Fuck, I miss my little pussy," Faust breathed. "Mm, show me those gorgeous tits."

Faith unbuttoned her work polo and stretched the collar down around her breasts for Faust to bury his face. Though there wasn't an abundance of flesh to lose himself in, Faust shivered from the first taste of her nipples. With muted groans of pleasure, he rammed into her until Faith could no longer contain her cries, unaccustomed to his girth. Faust absorbed her whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue until she only hummed.

He felt ferocious from the last twenty-four hours. If he could make Faith scream without drawing attention, Faust would have slammed her into the wall and fucked her until she shredded her vocal cords. He had to keep a low profile. Even visiting Faith was a considerable risk, but one he relished taking as she clamped her thighs and rutted against him.

He supported her ass in both hands and shifted off the wall to fuck her standing up. While he took her this way, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered, whispering, "yes, fuck my pussy hard, big boy. Oh, I love that big cock inside me."

Faust unhooked and held her out so he could watch her breasts jiggle with every bounce. "You still taking your birth control? I'm gonna fucking bust so hard inside you, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, do it. Fill my pussy, please. I want your cum."

Her dirty talk and sweet sobs for his cock pushed him over the edge. He cradled her head as he pushed her against the wall and throbbed between her legs until empty. Faust pulled out and immediately turned her around and bent her over to watch globs of fresh cum dripping from her wet slit. He used one finger to push some of it back inside and had her suck off the rest. Afterward, he pulled up his pants and compressed her against the wall, one hand over her mouth while the other worked her clit in gentle circles. Faust didn't stop until she squealed and shuddered against him, muffled in his jacket and writhing from the manual orgasm.

When Faith calmed down, he released her and stepped away, pulling a cigarette from the squished pack in his jacket pocket. The lighter's flame created an orange halo around his face and promptly died. He smoked like nothing had happened while she fixed her skirt, buttoned her polo and zipped up her coat.

Faith smiled up at her lover, the night blotting out most of his features.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"Not for long," Faust exhaled.

Her heart quivered. "Wait, what?"

"I gotta go back."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What? No! But... You just got back," said Faith.

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket speaking for him. The evening matured, consuming the details of her hurt expression until the streetlamps along the road came to life.

"Why did you come here?"

Faust took one last long haul off his cigarette and flicked it down the alleyway. "Listen to me, Faith... You need to quit asking questions. I'm serious. The more questions you ask, the worse it'll be. And you and I did not see each other tonight. As far as you know, I'm on tour. Understand?"

"Yes," Faith said to appease him.

"I want to stay, trust me. But I can't. You know why. All the answers you want, you already have. Don't keep bugging, don't mention it ever again."

"I want to go with you," she whispered.

"No. You stay. Go to your classes, go to work, go visit your parents. Everything normal. And I don't want you moping around either. You put on that pretty smile, and you pretend for me. I'll call you in a couple of weeks before the last show and arrange a way for you to get there."

"What do you mean you’ll call in couple of weeks?" Faith whined. “What about goodnights?”

"I don't have a phone anymore."

"Why—? Oh, um... Okay. I understand."

Faust gathered the girl up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl. I love you, and I miss you."

"I love you, too."

He tipped her face up and sensed tears forming in her eyes. Faust shook his head. "No crying. We'll see each other very soon. Just a couple more weeks."

"I know," she sighed.

"I love you more than anything, Faith. Now, go catch your bus. Should be here in a few minutes."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm on tour. I'm not even here," he explained.

Faust kissed her again, smoothed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face the bus stop. He urged her along. "No looking back. Hop on the bus and go do your schoolwork."

"Okay," she said, determined to make him proud. Faith walked out of the shadows and into the lamplight hovering over the depot. Across the lot, the city bus pulled in, and though she longed to turn around to see Faust watching over her, she kept her eyes forward and waited. When the bus pulled up, and the doors drew back, she stepped onto the platform and smiled at the driver as she scanned her pass. Faith took a seat in the back and put in her earbuds. She searched through a list of bands and selected the only one whose logo was illegible. As she pressed play, she listened to the immediate assault of the drums, their constant and violent beat. Faith smiled—warm in her chest and between her legs.

[nightowlfandom]

Min Yoongi- Humiliation Looks Good On You

Hey there! SO ANON ASKS

Hi I want to make a request with the prompts 10, 109, 110 with Yoongi please. I have a story in mind. Yoongi is a pretentious nerd, the best in college but also has some kind of hate relationship with y/n he really makes sure to make her feel humiliated cuz he gets turned on by doing it. but then he tries to make a move on her. Thank you.

So y’all just wanna be bullied by Yoongi, now? Ight bet! Damn Masochists! I like it tho-I’m assuming you want a happy ending to this, so that’s what I’ll be doing.

10-  I think I’ll keep you as a pet! You’re fun to mess with.

109-  Are you crying because of me? Hm…I didn’t realize I have that effect on you.

110-  That’s daddy to you, sweetheart.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

Also hi yes, I used the name is kpop stars for your friends names,

Also humiliation, daddy stuff...IF ANYONE TREATS YOUY LIKE THIS YOU BETTER BREAK THEIR FUCKING FACE I SWEAR TO-

 ...

“Hey guys!” You greeted your friends as your rushed into the classroom. 

“Hey babe!” Momo waved you over. “We saved you a seat! Irene was just telling us about her date last night!”

“Thanks.” You acknowledged Lisa and Hyuna who were also sitting. “What’s up?”

“Hyuna decided to be a mom and ruin my date!” Irene scoffed. “She scared him off!”

“You’ll thank me.” Hyuna waved her off, not bothered in the slightest.

“Sure.” Irene shook her head. Everyone laughed while you mustered up a sideways smile. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Oh..Y-yeah!” you shrugged. “I’m alright.”

“Bullshit.” Lisa scoffed. “I saw her hiding from Min and his cronies.” 

“Min Yoongi?” Momo asked. “He’s still bothering you?”

“No! You guys it isn’t like that!”

Oh yes it was. The college golden boy who was both an academic genius and promising young performer. He thought because he was intelligent that everyone was beneath him. His plan A and plan B would more than likely workout. 

“Y/N, do you need us to-”

“No!” You cut Hyuna off. “Don’t get involved or you’ll make it worse. Can’t we talk about the party tonight?”

“Ah, the biggest turn-up of the year!” Irene danced in her seat. “I have the entire house for the weekend.” 

You, Hyuna, Lisa, Irene, and Momo were someone of the popular (but also super kind) girls. Every Semester you all hosted a party. You guys were notorious for throwing the best parties and this semester was no different. 

“This is gonna go down in history!” Lisa smirked at the thought. “But if that tool starts something-”

Lisa didn’t like Yoongi....Lisa despised him with a passion. Mostly because he bullied you so much.

“Namjoon said that he’d behave.” Hyuna sighed. “Don’t know how much that means to you babe.” she put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Speak of the devil.” Momo sighed, staring at the door. 

Everyone knew than Yoongi tormented you. There was an endless array of mixed reactions.

“Hey Y/N.”

Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer.

“Yo, leave her alone.” Hyuna warned. 

“You gonna let your friends fight your battles?”

That alone made you whip your head around. “I don’t let anyone fight my battles!” you snapped, drawing the attention.

Before anything could go down, the teacher came inside.

“Hello class! Can anyone tell me what we were focused on last class?”

“We were getting into cliches and niches in romance novels.” You answered aloud. “We were talking about the Bully to Lover Archetype.”

“Very good Y/N.” the teacher praised you. “Now can someone tell me why we- and I would like to hear from the women on this...Why do you as women hate such a stigma.”

Your hand instantly shot in the air. “Yes Y/N?”

“Because it promotes the stigma that if a boy or man bullies you, it’s because he likes you. Which is extremely toxic to those with love self esteem because it makes them feel like they have to be ridiculed to be loved.” you said. “In my opinion any man who feels the need to degrade a woman is festering garbage.”

“Hm, interesting! Yes Mr.Min did you have something you wanted to add?”

“Yes, what my dear acquaintance Y/N fails to realize is most women actually like being teased-”

“Teased, not tormented you imbecile.” you snapped your head in Yoongi’s direction.

“Unless she’s a masochist.” he winked at you knowingly. ‘We don’t know why the male characters bully the females.”

“Because they have nothing better to do!” you replied as calmly as you could.

“...Well, women love the bad boys.”

“Women. Love. Respect.” you seethed.

“OOh a spicy debate!” the teacher noticed the tension. “In a way, you two are very similar to the characters we will be discussing!”

“Huh?” you turned back towards the teacher.

“Yes! The male bullied the female out of jealousy and spite and the female who is very outspoken, doesn’t allow herself to be insulted.”

“Out of spite, maybe. Jealousy, never.” Yoongi laughed.

What a smug bastard.

...(Later in another class) 

“Good going Y/N” Yoongi walked up to your table where you were sitting with your friends. “Now the teacher thinks we have something going on.”

“None of that is my problem...mkay?” you raised an eyebrow. “Any other stupid comments and or questions you have for me?”

“Sure.” Yoongi scoffed. “Is it true that you had to work at one of those sleazy bars to pay off your student debts?”

“So what if she did?” Lisa seethed.

“Hm, maybe if she was smarter she could have gotten a scholarship. Unless the superintendent is one of her sugar daddies.” He laughed. “It’s amazing what some people will do for money So is it cash or connection?.”

That comment made everyone fall silent.

“You don’t know me Yoongi.”

“Oh but I do. That’s why you’re my pet...Do you want me to keep you as a pet, Y/N?”

“No.” your voice wavered. 

“Are you crying because of me? Hm…I didn’t realize I have that effect on you. “

Yes, you had to work in a shitty bar as a waitress on some days and a bartender on other days. It wasn’t because you liked the attention. It was because those dirt-bags tipped you just for winking in their direction and you needed to pay off your debts.

But to insinuate that you had a sugar daddy....not that you judged anyone who did...the way he meant it...most likely meant something completely different.

“THAT’S IT!” Hyuna lunged from her seat and attempted to jump at Yoongi, age be damned. “IRENE LET ME FUCKING AT HIM.”

You didn’t notice the tears streaming down your face. In the midst of every boy in the classroom attempting to calm Hyuna down, you rose to your feet and exited the classroom. As soon as you were far enough, you bolted down the halls. 

You kicked open the doors to the school and ran home. You would face the consequences later.

...(Meanwhile, back at school)

“Hey! I was just joking!” Yoongi burst out laughing.

“Not to us, it isn’t!” Momo barked, her bubbly and cheerful spirit was gone. “Y/N is struggling to make ends meet as it is and she doesn’t need you COMMENTING ON IT!”

“Not to mention, she’s one of the smartest girls in school!” Lisa sneered. “I bet she’d score circles around you if you actually looked at her test scores.”

“Its bad enough she won’t let us help her out, but now she sure as hell won’t let us help her now, no thanks to you!” Irene sighed. 

“Oh Come on! You guys act like Y/N is some Miss Perfect!” Yoongi crossed his arms. “Is she really all that great?”

“If she wasn’t, why would you waste your time trying to bully her?” Hyuna finally calmed down. “You’re lucky that you’re friends with my boyfriend or else I swear you wouldn’t set foot at any of our parties.”

“Maybe the teacher was right. You’re just so jealous that Y/N wouldn’t give you the time of day that you turned to making fun of her to stroke your disgusting guy ego.” Momo crossed your arms. “I’m gonna go after her, she probably went home.”

“I’ll come with.” Lisa rose to her feet.

“I’ll get you guys the homework.” Irene nodded the two friends off. “And make sure Hyuna doesn’t kill someone.”

Momo and Lisa ran out of the school while Yoongi was standing there dumbstruck. For the first time, he was speechless.

...

“You guys, I really don’t wanna be here.” you sighed as the loud music deafened you and everyone within a five foot radius. “I don’t really wanna party...”

“You’re one of the hosts!” Irene sighed. “Enjoy your night! Come on! I heard Seokjin was just waiting to dance with you!”

Seokjin, the beautiful teaching assistant that any girl would kill to get their hands on. University life...Speaking of which, he must of sensed you were thinking of him because he sauntered over looking handsome as ever. He stared at you, a warm and friendly smile gracing his angelic face.

“Hey Y/N.” he smiled. “You look great.”

“Oh...Thank you Jin!” you smiled. 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Irene nudged you before sauntering off, belting the song at the top of her lungs. “WHOSE READY TO PARTY!”

You were left with Jin who was smiling knowingly at you. “Hey...I heard about today.”

“I don’t have a sugar daddy and I am NOT a sleaze!” you cut him off sharply. “If that’s what you’re here for, then-”

“Hey Y/N!” he put his hands up in defense. “I was just gonna say what he said about you wasn’t cool at all. Everyone is giving him hell for it.”

“Oh...thanks I guess. Sorry.” you looked down sheepishly.

“Hey...You wanna dance?” Jin motioned over to the dancefloor. He noticed your hesitance. “Come on...it’ll be fun. If anyone gives you trouble, just focus on me.”

You nodded, allowing a smile to cross your face again. You grabbed his hand and ran over to the dancefloor.

From a distance, Yoongi was watching. He was drinking a beer. He glared potholes at Seokjin who had his arms protectively wrapped around your waist. You looked genuinely happy. It made him mad. Since when and why were you and him so chummy?

He decided to do something about it, so he put his drink down and marched over. 

“Yo! Jin! Hyuna said she needed your help with something school related.” he made up some lame excuse. Knowing Jin, he’d probably believed it anyways.

“Oh...Okay. Be right back Y\N!” he smiled at you which you returned. Your smiled was quickly replaced with a frown when Yoongi and you were left alone. He perked up an eyebrow and held out his hand.

You would have slapped it away, but Promiscuous By Nelly Furtado suddenly began playing. 

“Come on....” he winked. You begrudgingly took his only only to be yanked towards him. Unlike Seokjin, when he wrapped his arms around you it feel uneasy.

“ I think I’ll keep you as a pet! You’re fun to mess with. “ he whispered in your ear. His body felt hard and cold, yet you moved so effortlessly with him. 

“I’m nobody’s pet.” you snapped. 

“You’re mine.” he leaned forward and whispered in your ear. “Otherwise you would have killed me by now.”

“Still debating.” you laughed dryly. “You’ll always be a pain in my ass...”

 You broke away from his embrace to dance on your own. Working at a bar, the other girls taught you how to dance. The only positive to come out of working at a shithole like that, plus the tips you got just for smiling at someone. Yoongi took note of this. What happened to the timid little victim he loved to poke fun at.

You almost looked like you could hold your own.

“GO Y/N!” Momo yelled while dancing with her own date. 

As you turned back around, getting closer to Yoongi again, your eyes met. Things fell silent between you two as you took a step back. You had to get out of there before you did something you would regret. 

You wound up running into a random room in the mansion, struggling for air. Absolutely not! No way! You were not falling for Yoongi.

“Jin is so kind and sweet and Yoongi is the reason I don’t wanna go to school. Hell no.” you seethed.

“Is that how you feel?”

Yoongi stood at the door, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Yes! I hate you!” you could feel everything welling up inside you as you met his gaze again. “I hate you so much that I wish you would-”

“Wish I would what? Drop dead? Drop out of school, leave you alone?” he cut you off with a harsh tone. “Tell me how you really feel!”

“Make your move or shut the fuck up!” you gave your answer.

You knew good and well Yoongi had a reason for doing this, you just figured you would give it your best guess. This caused Yoongi to raise an eyebrow. You almost regretted opening your mouth when Yoongi stormed over and grabbed you by the waist. He crashed his mouth over yours, claiming you in a kiss.

You felt him tangle your hair in his fist, keeping you in place. You tangled your hands in his hair.

Imagine, the schools bully and the girl he’s tormented since he met her, in such a compromising position.

You were two focused on Yoongi pinning you to the bed to worry about it though. 

“You are such a-”

“ Ah ah ah~...That’s daddy to you, sweetheart.”

[amethystpath-writes]

A Cage of Moonlight and Magic:

You guys asked for a collab so here’s collab number one, with the one and only @nightfrostshadow ! We had a blast writing this and bouncing ideas off one another, so sit back and enjoy :)

******

“Listen to me carefully,” Supervillain held Villain’s chin, slid his hand so casually near his circus pet’s neck- his throat. “Those water and ice crystals are not yours at all. They are mine, you hear me? They are the audience’s. You exist only to provide entertainment, to provide glory. But you are neither of these things without your powers.” He stepped back, peering at his subject with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” Villain promised. “Someday when you least expect it, I will do it.” He’d said this before, many times- with many bouts of frustration, confidence, and determination.

Supervillain laughed. “With water?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being swept away by a current?” For once, Villain allowed a smile to curve upon his lips.  Something wicked enraptured his thoughts- more than just murder; it was torture. “When the water is so fast, so strong, that your head never breaks surface ever again. You drown.”

The hand near Villain’s throat faltered, but ultimately tightened. “Don’t forget who you are speaking to.” And that was the end of that.

***

“I think it’s fun,” Hero said, “when the little kids’ faces curve into shining smiles. And the adults, too. I wonder how many grandparents have made our show their last one. What an honour, isn’t it, Villain? That we may be the last magic someone sees?”

Villain who had been gloomily forming a little water tornado in his palm looked up at Hero. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, and the swirling water fell to the ground.

“Does it not bother you that we are nothing but tools to Supervillain?” Villain asked. “Meant to forever use our powers in such a pathetic way, to entertain people? Would you not rather be the one in power of your own life? To live free…free to do whatever we want with our powers instead of what Supervillain wants!” What a magnificent fantasy Villain let reel in his mind.

He shifted his body, knees dragging in the dirt- in his bed. “I’m reduced to having to put up waterwork shows. Waterworks can you believe it? Out of all the things I can do?”

A spritz of water in Hero’s direction. “And you.” He waited for Hero to meet his eyes. “With your stars and fireworks…you could do so much more. We could do so much more, Hero. Yet here we are, the famous opening act for Supervillain.”

Hero pondered over this as she thoughtfully looked down at her own hands, making little stars and sparkles erupt from her fingers, thus illuminating the surroundings. Such a great contrast to the darkening sky, she thought before answering Villain. “We bring light to the people watching, you know?” Literally, in Hero’s case.

“You could bring heat to them as well.” Villain was watching the little sparks in his co-worker’s hands as she’d spoken. Darkly, he thought, She could set the world ablaze if she wished. “Don’t you understand that we are animals to them? They think we are tamed.” He expected a response- anything besides Hero’s plain face. “That fact doesn’t bother you at all?” Villain’s voice pitched, incredulous.

Hero smiled slightly as she sent out a shower of sparkles raining down on them with a flick of her fingers and met Villain’s eyes as she spoke “I try not to think about it, you know? I just think of the good in every situation. It helps me be happy and peaceful. Besides, we’ve been here long enough; it’s not like we can leave so I just find the wonder in everything we do…it warms my heart to see the joy in people’s eyes as they watch us perform. You should try it, too, Villain.” She looked at him earnestly.

Villain stared at her in disbelief as he smiled bitterly,” There is nothing that can warm my heart here. Looking at the joy in peoples’ eyes as they don’t even care about us? Looking at them angers me even more. All they care about is watching the magic show in front of them. What has there been for us to celebrate in these past years?” Villain took a deep breath. “Nothing. I haven’t felt happiness in ages, Hero…and my heart?” He formed ice at the tips of his fingers as if to demonstrate- “It’s frozen.”

He sighed as he laid down on his bed- if you could even call it that. Once again he longed for the blanket he desperately needed, yet was never given on the cold winter nights.

***

“Up and at them, monsters.” Supervillain casted his light throughout the tent room, illuminating every square inch, every shadow hiding in every nook and cranny. He seemed to ignore his own monstrous ability.

Perhaps moonlight wasn’t such a devious subject to some, but to the magis, it was the cruellest of all magics- a searing light close to a large pane of lasers. The light hurt. And Supervillain was fond of using it every day, using it to wake his subjects up, to force them into the confines of a life hardly worth living. A circus like what they performed was better than the pain, but the pain was inescapable.

“We have a big show tonight. Some very esteemed guests will be making an appearance. You will all be expected to put on your best performance.”

As eyes creeped open, and quiet gasps and shouts of pain sounded around the dirt room, Supervillain’s lips curved into a bow. He did love the sounds and movements they made under his power- something incapable of being shown to an audience, per say, but something most definitely to be used behind closed curtains. He was thankful there was no expected sizzle to come from the burning skin of his subjects. The audience might hear that, and then what would his show be?

Villain rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees and collapsing in on himself to form a ball. The moonlight burned, as usual, but it was worse on this late night. He felt the light in all places, even those not accessible- hence the tight position he held himself in, a form of self-defence. Moonlight poured between his lips, filling his mouth in a pain that could only be expressed through blood-curdling screams.

Knowing Supervillain and his antics, Villain had the sense to guard the sounds he made in a self-made bubble. Should anyone outside this room hear his screams, they would become concerned; they might try to break into the performers’ room. Supervillain would do worse than let the moonlight flow inside Villain’s body, then.

“It feels like drowning, doesn’t it?” Supervillain asked, so suddenly knelt on the ground beside Villain’s bubble of muteness. “Do you regret your words from yesterday yet? Will you behave today?”

As experimental as Villain was with his powers, he never once tried to purposefully experience the feeling of drowning. Right now, though, he could imagine this burning inside his body must be what it felt like to breathe in water. He didn’t have gills despite many people’s beliefs. He knew the feeling of water shooting up one’s nose, of coughing and gagging on it with the ever-present idea of never breathing again. Water was scary, even he would admit.

It was in this moment that his bubble fell. Villain swallowed his screams, clenching every muscle in his body to prevent the sounds of continued pain. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, if only to stop Supervillain’s act of revenge. “Won’t- won’t threaten you again.” But, of course, he would. The fight, the defiance, was in his blood.

Esteemed guests, he said? Villain focused on his thoughts as the moonlight slowly escaped his body. I’ll be sure to give them a show, then.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Hero’s eyes to widen with surprise as she’d watched Supervillain slowly stride on over to Villain with a look of admiration in his eyes. Meanwhile, Villain had been writhing in what was undoubtedly pain. She could just barely hear his agonized screams through the water he trapped himself in. It was as if she had been listening to him beneath the water surface of a pool- goodness she missed those. Her jaw, which had apparently been opened, snapped shut in a desperate moment to withhold an empathetic cry.

Hero thought back on the conversation she shared with Villain earlier that morning- about how horrible this life was.

Yes. Yes, she could agree that certain aspects of it weren’t preferable, but…well, Villain did this to himself, didn’t he? He pushed and prodded- he poked the bear if you would. Albeit horrible, Villain’s treatment was somewhat deserved.

This didn’t mean that Hero didn’t find the treatment absolutely gut-wrenching. Sometimes she had nightmares about the same pain coursing throughout her own body. Fortunately, they were dreams and she only knew the pain existed within them because of her unconscious hollers.

Either way, Hero knew she could never exist in that amount of pain. She might very well pass out, and then what use would she be to the show? What use would she be to herself? Those bright, smiling faces in the audiences warmed her in a way her powers never could. They kept her going. They kept her alive.

So, she would withstand those slight waves of pain every day. She would endure because any alternative was too frightening, too dooming.

“Five minutes!” Supervillain announced, and with that, he stepped out, flaps of the tent room snapping shut behind him.

Not wasting a moment, Hero crawled over to Villain, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

His response was a glare. He shrugged her off. “Get ready,” he said simply. “We have a great show tonight and little time to prepare.”

What Hero didn’t see was the vengeance pooling in Villain’s stomach, much like the moonlight Supervillain had placed there just a minute ago.

***

Villain smirked as he stood in position with Hero, ready to open the show, waiting for the curtains to rise. In three, two…

The curtain rose and as the audience stared, no doubt waiting, excited to see what the show had in store for them, the cue was given and Hero prepared to do her part, hands twirling with both anticipation and preparation.

Watching Villain, she faltered, one hand clumsily colliding with the other…all because she noticed something unordinary. Villain was not performing with her, and he had a look in his eyes, a- a gleam which Hero had never seen before. This can’t be good. Not only did Villain have such a mischievous glimmer, but he had not moved from his initial position.

With eyes now closed, Villain summoned all the water he could. Opening them once again, he sent his arms forward- a fast motion which released wave upon wave, crashing into the audience.

He laughed darkly as he sprinkled a whirlpool here, a current there, and a water tornado- which served as an escape, a path of destruction that cleared the way of all the chairs, as well as the audience members themselves.

Just as Hero had faltered before, Villain did in that very moment- a familiar pain blossoming in his body. He gritted his teeth.

Supervillain had begun fighting him more quickly than expected. Clearly, the waves that had engulfed him, therefore knocking him over, and the shards of ice Villain had aimed towards his chest, hadn’t been enough.

But he couldn’t stop clearing the path- the only path that could ensure him life- ensure him freedom. His motivation to succeed tonight enraptured his every move…because if he failed…well…he didn’t want to think of the consequences.

The adrenaline which Villain possessed now helped him more easily bear the once excruciating pain. Now, it was only a dull throb, a throb that allowed Villain to continue concentrating on clearing the path of obstacles, for anyone in his way would regret it.

Villain’s body ached, having never spent so much energy on his powers. Especially not at the same time as Supervillain using his own powers so strongly against him.

Struggling to hold on as he started to feel the pain sharper than ever, Villain focused on the path- his salvation- ahead. Supervillain was no match for the determination manifesting in Villain’s veins.

***

Hero was lost in the literal sea of madness. A part of her was grateful to only feel the sprinkle of swirling water around her, yet another quaked at the sight before her- of the people she so graciously served being tossed like ragdolls.

What was worse: the sight of Villain captured in his cage of moonlight, or seeing the audience so helplessly being…being drowned? For once, she decided on the latter. Hero never imagined a day would pass that Supervillain’s power wasn’t the most terrifying thing in existence. Seeing what Villain did now, though? It was horrible- excruciating.

On another hand…Hero understood. Villain endured so much pain, so often, who else wouldn’t lose their mind- wouldn’t wreak havoc if it meant being free of the torture? Clearly, this life wasn’t meant for him. And he was stubborn enough that fighting for such freedom was all he’d ever know.

Seeing as Supervillain was just as strong-willed, he’d never stop torturing- never stop trying to break Villain. Making an escape was Villain’s greatest hope.

Who was Hero to try and stop him?

******

*insert cliffhanger* Mwahaha 😈

Part two here

[hockeywhy]

rock on; t. jost

WARNINGS: none WORD COUNT: 2.2k A/N: I wrote this back when Josty blessed all the goths with his black lipstick and choker and space buns last Halloween, so I thought well, why not re-post it and here it is. 

“Babe?”

“Mhm…”

You watch in amusement as Tyson hovers around your makeup table, occasionally picking at an item now and then to inspect it before setting it back in its place. Although he tries to make himself appear as nonchalant as he can, you know there is something on his mind that made him circle around the area for the past half hour or so. You didn’t think much of it initially until he started uncapping some lipsticks, twirling them up for inspection, eyebrows furrowing in concentration before setting them down again. If you didn’t know him for as long as you did, you’d pass off his behaviour as an act of boredom, but you can swear you know him even better than you know yourself at times. There is purpose to his movement, and you’re set on finding out what’s been nagging at him. 

“See anything you like?” you ask cautiously, though there’s a hint of amusement in your voice. 

“What? No, I was just…” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, placing a pencil back in its place and for a brief moment, he catches your eyes in the mirror. It isn’t until you arch a brow in silent question that Tyson turns to face you properly. “So, you know how we have that little get together for Halloween tonight?” he questions, and you prompt him to carry on with a quick nod of your head. “Well, since you and Olivia are going to wear matching costumes, Dante and I thought of doing the same thing.”

“Let me guess. You two are finally agreeing with our Flintstones costumes, and will dress as Fred and Barney?”

Tyson chuckles and he shakes his head, almost regretfully. “Not quite. But, uh, do you happen to have a really dark shade of lipstick? Like a dark purple or…black, even?” 

You sit up slowly then crawl over to sit closer to the foot of the bed. “I think I do. I’m pretty sure I do. Why do you ask?” 

“Well, remember when we watched that Scooby Doo movie and you said you really liked those Hex Girls?” 

You’re just a split second away from confirming you remember that because it only happened the previous night. You and Tyson knew you’d be hanging out with a few friends on Halloween night, so you booked off the Eve of it solely for yourselves. The movies were rolling one after the other throughout most of the day and the two of you went from watching genuinely scary films to children’s stuff like Hocus Pocus or Paranorman, though you found that both of you were especially keen on Scooby Doo and the Witch’s Ghost. Whether it had to do with it being such a childhood classic or the familiarity of the characters, you and Tyson made sure you had enough snacks to last you the full run of the movie without either of you having to get up for refills. By the end of it, you were both trying to one-up each other for the best impersonation of the Hex Girls though you barely managed to make it halfway through before giving in to fits of laughter. 

The coin dropped then.

“No way…” you exclaimed quietly while Tyson confirmed your guess with a quick nod and a big grin, clearly proud of the decision he and Dante came to at some point and could now finally put it to practice. 

“Uh-huh. Well, we’re not dressing up as the Hex Girls but they’re definitely the inspiration, so… Think you can help?” 

The sheer excitement of the thought made you squeal and jump up off the bed properly, clapping your hands together, mind already racing through the endless possibilities. Sure, you should probably make a start on putting together your own look for the approaching evening, but this was so much more exciting. Betty Rubble could wait. Tyson in a goth-rock look, however? You had to help him make a start on it – right now. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this sooner! I could’ve—oh gosh, we could’ve put together so many things!” you exclaimed while circling around him to browse quickly through a few items across the vanity, setting aside some tools in a pile you mentally labelled as the for-consideration pile. 

“I trust you with this,” he assured, turning to sit properly in the seat while watching you go through what to him, seemed like endless options. “So, we’re thinking the full works, you know? All black outfits, maybe even makeup to go with it… What do you think?” 

“I think this will be the best Halloween,” you confirm to him and press a quick kiss to his mouth for extra measure. Once you straighten up though, something keeps you hovering just behind Tyson to consider him with a slight tilt of your head and a narrowing of your eyes. Almost subconsciously, you bring a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through the curls and the gesture makes him tilt his head back in silent encouragement to keep doing that. “How about space buns?” you ask quietly, almost to yourself and briefly test out the idea by gathering some of his hair to part it. It’s long enough now, and so easy to work with that it’d be too much of a shame to pass on the opportunity. “Please say yes.” 

Tyson laughs quietly, reaching back for one of your hands and giving it a light tug so that you can let him guide it to his mouth. He presses a kiss to the heel of your palm and then the inside of your wrist. 

“Go for it.” 

The fun begins then and though the idea is very much Tyson and Dante’s, the entire process becomes your own. 

You dig out an old black denim jacket you almost forgot about and when you both come to the conclusion that it’s probably a little too tight for Tyson around the arms and therefore not quite as rock-and-roll, you take a pair of scissors to it despite his endless string of assurance that surely there’s something else he could use. 

“Babe, it has little gems around it. You can’t say no to the early 2000s type gems on clothing,” you tell him in a deadpan voice and that seems to do it just right. 

The dressing up part is the easiest and perhaps the most straightforward, but when you finally sit him down at the vanity again so that you can make a start, Tyson makes you line up everything you’ll use so he can take a picture and send it to Dante. Just to make sure that they’ll be as closely matched as possible. 

Tyson follows your guidance to a T: he looks up when you line his bottom lash line and looks down when you make a start on his eyelids; he parts his lips a little just before you make a start on lining them (not before exclaiming how good this entire look is coming along and pressing another kiss on his mouth which he returns just before you take a pencil to it) and bites down on a small folded tissue when you tell him. 

All the while, you prevent him from trying to glimpse himself in the mirror but after he gets past the first two complaints (“babe, come on I just want to look really quick” and “is it because I don’t fit this at all and you’re trying to soften the blow?”), Tyson simply settles quietly, legs spread just enough to let you stand closer while parting his hair. Occasionally, he’d loosely wrap his arms around your waist or casually caress your sides with his palms but other than that, the entire situation is reminiscent of days from childhood when you and your girlfriends would take turns helping each other with dress-up and sitting as still as possible out of sheer fear the slightest inclination of your body would ruin everything. 

It isn’t until you finish doing one of the space buns that you lean back a little to look at him properly, and you can’t help the small giggle that escapes your mouth. 

“I think this is it, baby,” you tell him. “This is the costume for you.” 

A slight furrow forms on his face and his smile is almost cautious. “I can’t tell if you mean it’s horrifically good or horrifically horrific. Not that I don’t trust your skills!” he corrects quickly, before you even have the chance to consider that in the first place. “I don’t think I’d trust anyone with a pencil anywhere near my eye except you, but I’m pretty sure between the two of us, you’d rock the eyeliner, dark lipstick and space buns better than anyone can.” 

You arch an eyebrow but waste no more time getting started on the second bun. “What, you’re telling me you never let Kacey lure you into playing dress up as kids?” There’s a moment of hesitation, so you know you got him. Besides, you’ve seen the photos. Those were some of the first Kacey showed you as soon as Tyson introduced you to his family. “Thought so. Now let me just get this one done and you’ll see you might just give Dusk a run for her money.” 

Try as you might though, and you couldn’t tame one of his curls from falling over his forehead and though you had an apparent endless supply of pins, you decided to give them a pass. There is something so incredibly endearing about that one loose strand that refused to be tamed and besides, you figured Instagram would thank you for it if any photos were to go up on the internet. For extra safety, you twirl it around your finger then set it loose before bringing your palms up to hover in front of his eyes. 

“Alright, now turn around slowly and I dare you to tell me this isn’t an entire look.” 

He does as told and once he’s facing the mirror, you make an entire show out of removing your hands, complete with a ta-dah! 

At once, his mouth falls open and slowly, he turns his head one way then the other before tilting it down just enough to catch a full glimpse of the buns sitting atop his head.

“Oh my god…” he mutters, and you can tell his voice is caught somewhere between regret and amusement, so you wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing your head down to rest on his shoulder after pecking his cheek quickly. 

“If Dante came up with this idea, I’m buying him the most lavish box of chocolates. If you came up with this idea, it’ll take a lot to beat it, I promise that,” you assure him and Tyson bursts into embarrassed laughter. 

“I look like I’m about to record the remix to an Alice Cooper song.” 

“I wanna kiss you but I want it too much. I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison,” you quote in a soft sing-song voice and just as you’re about to pull away from him just to add that extra dramatic flair, Tyson catches your wrist and reels you back in towards him gently, meeting you halfway as he stands up. 

“Keep going,” he murmurs against your mouth.

You chuckle softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t spoil your lipstick so soon, baby. You didn’t even get to show it off to everyone else, so let’s save it for later, okay?”

It isn’t until you emerge from your bedroom almost an hour later after completing your own dress up that you notice Tyson had one extra surprise up his sleeve. He turns towards the sound of your footsteps and gleaming around his neck is a spiked leather choker that makes your jaw fall open. He stretches his arms out and does a slow spin, and when he faces you again, he tips his head back just a little as if to give you a better view.

“Yes? No?” he questions, and you detect a trace of hesitance in his voice. 

“Yes,” you confirm, almost breathlessly as you close the gap between the two of you and despite your earlier warning, kiss him even if some of the black lipstick might transfer onto your own hot pink one. It’s no bother, anyway. You have your tube and Tyson’s packed in your clutch. 

Just as you’re about to make a move towards the door, however, Tyson stops you and encourages you to do a full spin. 

“Wow,” he exclaims, following that up with a low whistle. “It’s really not too late at all for me to get into that Barney costume.” 

“Absolutely not,” you state firmly and to make your point even clearer, you quickly push him out of the door. “Betty Rubble and Wilma Flintstone are going to just have a girls’ Halloween get-together and we’ll see our husbands when we get back home. Meanwhile, you and Dante can put on a show worthy of a 2000s middle school goth-rock party. Hey, do you know the lyrics to My Chemical Romance’s I’m Not Okay?”

“I’m not singing My Chemical Romance,” Tyson says quickly, almost stumbling his words in doing so as if saying it any slower would mean he’d have to do it right there and then.

“Oh, you are so singing My Chemical Romance,” you say softly, voice taking on that sing-song tone again and burst into laughter as Tyson groans, gently bumping his head against the steering wheel.

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 1

And, here we go. Chapter 1 of this monstrosity (no pun intended) is now up and running below, on AO3, and on FF.net.

I'm going to be completely and 100% honest with everyone before you start reading, so please heed this warning! This first chapter is rough in the sense where it contains a bit of brutality and the death of a child. So far, this is the only gruesome chapter, and while the gore is NOT detailed, I still want my more sensitive readers to be wary.

This is the most action-packed fic I've ever written, and also the most expansive world I've ever built (in my humble opinion). With that being said, while the setting is a bit more on the historical side, there are plenty of modern references. For instance, not in this chapter but in future ones, a bathroom is just a bathroom. I don't mention plumbing or the lack thereof. My attention and energy was on more important things and I just didn't care about those details, lol. Additionally, a lot of slang, jokes, and references are fairly modern. Don't @ me (but also do). All-in-all, what I'm trying to say is I built my own damn world where there is no historical accuracy, so don't go looking for it, lol.

Unless otherwise stated, I plan to post each new chapter every Friday. So, yeah... I think that's all I've got to say.... have fun! Enjoy! Thank you for reading! Ily! Bon Voyage! Don't hate me!

----------

The responsibility is ours.

Kagome gasped as her feet slid in the mud, the small decline of the path she and her younger brother hurried down gradually becoming more slippery as the rain began to pour harder. Through the noise of the droplets and the sloshing of their boots, she heard a slight commotion; horses’ huffs, heavy feet, and boisterous men barking orders. Initially, she’d figured it was the village men ushering their families indoors, their livestock into barns, their carts and tools under shelter, and their firewood into a dry place as the storm reared its ugly head. The sunset sky was shadowed in gloom, thunder making it’s entrance in the far distance as it was bound to be banging on their doors and windows in no time. But, at the tug of her arm by her sibling, her attention was shifted to the actual cause of it all: Naraku’s henchmen.

“Again?” She shuddered resentfully.

“Third time this month.” Sota confirmed, clenching his jaw as he slightly tugged his sister behind his smaller frame. He was perfectly aware that he was only twelve, well in the know that he stood no taller than her shoulders, but he’d be damned if he did nothing because of it.

This time, there wasn’t a hoard of them. No, there were merely four, all of which were already off of their horses on the main path through their little village, making demands and threatening anyone who got in the way of their objective.

Throughout the last four and a half years since Naraku rose as a fearsome demon that easily brought down peaceful powers and attempted to control the world Kagome knew, she’d become more than familiar with this procedure. It wasn’t until just recently that they’d started coming more often than a monthly visit, though. And, it was no secret what, or who, they were after.

Her.

Anyone of her kind, really.

She was different. She was hunted. Those like her were supposedly powerful, but matters being what they were had caused anyone who shared a similar fate to subdue their abilities to the point of total lack of recognition of their true potential. At least, that’s how it was in most cases. Because, if they were found out, they were killed on sight. The reason for it was entirely unknown. Naraku didn’t just target them, though; he made everyone’s lives hell, especially if they stood out in a supernatural manner. So, while she figured there had to be a yet-to-be-identified reason, she felt it was safe to assume it was also just because he could. Maybe he didn’t like the threat of other, similar forces that could collide against him. Maybe he was egotistical enough to think he was the only deserving being. Whatever the case, he was cruel.

Kagome’s kind had several names through the decades - so many, she hardly knew the correct term for herself. At one point, ages ago, they were called banshees. The title didn’t make sense whatsoever, given their powers and what a banshee actually was, and the story was so old that she didn’t know where the justification even stemmed from, but it caused them to be feared, and for that, she honestly wouldn’t have totally minded if the name stuck around. They were called priestesses, but then it sounded too peaceful, too practiced, and it painted them as “good.” They were called witches, mages, sorceresses, but they committed no typical magic of that sort. Kagome didn’t know a single spell, nor did she have nearly enough time in the day to pack an array of herbs, spices, and what have you into jars that were sealed with candle wax - though she had caught wind that there were some older women of her kind with the ability to curse. Now, they were called conjurers. Their abilities were that of the spirit, aiding with protection, purifying dark forces - passively or forcefully, bringing forth light, and more she was sure.

In Kagome’s unpopular opinion, given what they could do and what they supposedly stood for, priestess was more suitable a term, but she also understood that there was nothing holy about the world they lived in.

There was no birthmark of the conjurer. There was no dead giveaway of their kind. The powers were gifted at random, as far as she knew, not passed down through lineage. The only thing Naraku and his followers seemingly had to go off of was that conjurers were born female.

Sometimes, they’d conduct their mission by way of senseless inspections. They’d rip apart the insides of homes looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Truthfully, with how absurd they carried themselves, it was obvious they didn’t know the telltale signs they were looking for and were wasting their time. Which was what made it clear that for them to be so clueless, even Naraku didn’t know all there was that made up a conjurer. They were ignorant and they were blind, but they were also relentless and ruthless.

The days where they singled women out were the worst. Kagome, so far, was spared that cruelty, but that didn’t make it any better. It was usually the more mature, the elderly, that received the short end of the stick.

More often than anything, they’d line up every woman and girl in town and go down the rows one-by-one, stimulating their nerves in one way or another to see if they could get a “conjurer’s reaction.” Kagome could only guess that meant a sudden surge of purification power. It was the main trait conjurers were known for; but they were going about it wrong. Screaming in their faces, threatening everyone, or jostling them around a bit wasn’t going to get the demons purified, no matter how much she wanted to toss something their way. Of course, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that.

Every so often, they’d come in a pack and create havoc with violence. They said it was their way to pressure people into giving up any information they might have, but in all honesty, the smiles some of the brute demons wore said they were bored and simply wanted a little entertainment. Apparently, screaming and pleading were equivalent to a musical number in their bloodlust eyes.

Their own little group of demon slayers that resided in the village helped prevent this from happening when they could, which was why the henchmen came in numbers. The demon slayers fought for a sense of control, not to kill. They would only allow so much, but belligerent violence was not an option. It was obvious that, as of late, their village was a targeted spot, one that got a little more attention than neighboring towns, and for what reason, no one knew. They didn’t have the fighting power to win that sort of fight, though, and the leader of the group of slayers was sensible enough to understand this and explain it to the masses that questioned them. They were made up of a handful of men with rigorous combat skills they didn’t learn from home, refused to take recruits below a certain age, and could only train so many at a time. As much as they’d all love to retaliate and end things for good, intuition was telling them not to in that manner. Even Kagome felt that. Deep in her gut, she knew that even if they could, killing them would only put the people of the village in a worse position. This wasn’t something that would stop by taking out the underlings. Not at all. Far from it. Anyone who was paying attention could see that they’d need to exterminate the head honcho in order for any positive difference to be made.

Unfortunately for them this time around, their little pack of demon slayers had left on a request to take care of a troublesome demon a little ways off just that morning. And, listening to the henchmen now, seeing them in their dark leather, their cloaks, feeling their dangerous energies wafting through the streets of their little town, Kagome could tell that they were going to do whatever they wanted tonight, despite the fact that it was just the four of them. It wouldn’t be horrible, and would most likely be a lineup, but they were definitely going to take their sweet time and see who they could break.

“There’s still time. They haven’t noticed you. We can hide you.” Her younger brother said, his tone more on the convicted side as opposed to suggestive. He should have known she wouldn’t have gone for it, though. So long as every other woman and girl had to stand in front of their villainous promises and vile breath, so long as her mother had to keep a straight face, Kagome would always stand there with them. She’d made a promise to her brother, her older cousin, and especially her mom that she’d never willingly out herself for no reason, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hide when everyone else had to stand through their harassment. She swore that if the demons were ever convinced an innocent was a conjurer, that was the reason to give herself over.

Never would Kagome allow another to mistakenly go down in her stead.

No one but her family knew of her powers, and until necessary, it would stay that way. According to her cousin, the more people that knew, the increased danger she was in.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She shook her head, minding her steps through the small slope of mud as she gently pulled her arm out of Sota’s grip.

“Miroku would say the same thing if he were with us.” He argued.

“Yeah, well he’s not. In fact, he’s probably getting himself into trouble by picking a fight with one of those goons.”

“Kagome, I have a bad feeling about this. Come on, just listen for once.”

“Okay,” She stopped, turning around to challenge his look. “Say something bad is going to happen. Knowing these assholes, you really think my absence will stop that?”

“No, but -“

“Right. They’re going to do something no matter what, correct?”

“Kagome -“

“And then what?”

“And then they’re wrong, but they didn’t get you.”

“How is that fair to the person they might hurt?”

“That person isn’t my sister.”

“What if it’s mom?”

Sota’s eyes slighted to the side, a heated huff leaving his lips just before he begrudgingly sealed them. His jaw clenched minutely as his head gave a little shake, brown eyes once more meeting his sibling’s. “Miroku and I will protect her.”

Kagome gave a fed up smile, sighing, rolling her eyes, and turning back on her heel to continue toward the main path. Families came out of their homes dressed in cloaks as they prepared to, once more, be harassed until Naraku’s men exhausted themselves, husbands and male relatives holding resentful expressions as they guarded their female family members until they couldn’t any longer.

“Kagome!”

“Sota, quit it. The louder you are, the more suspicious we become.” She quietly warned. Kagome heard her brother’s aggravated grumble before he jogged forward to catch up, his demeanor holding much like every other male in the village.

No one’s feet rushed toward the excitement. The tension of the town was up so dramatically that Kagome could physically feel the crushing weight of it all, the anxiety as they made their way closer to their disgusting visitors was causing her stomach to bubble and waver, and her throat constricted nervously as she and Sota finally met up with the crowd, her brown eyes scouring over shoulders to scout out her family. Sota’s hand encircled her wrist firmly, tugging her to the right as he found them and guided her over. Miroku stood tall in front of their mother, brows noticeably creased and indigo eyes straight ahead until he’d caught their movement in his peripheral vision. Immediately, his posture squared further, as if enlarging his shoulders so that he’d be able to successfully hide both Kagome and his aunt behind his frame. Her mother held out her hand for Kagome to take as soon as they were close enough, a peaceful smile unsurprisingly gracing her lips while she pulled her in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Somehow, no matter the circumstances, she always did her best to calm Kagome’s nerves with the simplest of sweet gestures. Sota took his spot before them, influenced by Miroku’s stature as he replicated it.

Allowing herself a brief moment, Kagome bowed her head further, bracing it on her older cousin’s shoulder. She shut her eyes, inhaling slowly, deeply, attempting to release her trepidation with a long and heated exhale before composing herself and straightening out.

“- But this is too much! Why the hell are you back again!? There’s no conjurer in our village! Don’t you fucking get that by now!?” A man shouted, livid, and it was evident she and her brother had missed the beginning of the argument playing out in the center of the uneven circle created by people.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” One of Naraku’s men yelled back.

“Not until you tell us why you’re back for the third time!”

“Would you rather we made ourselves at home!?” Silence from the opposing man answered his question clearly. “That’s what I fucking thought.” He spewed, and Kagome could hear the spittle fly out as he cursed. His attention returned to the general public, his tone shifting from vicious to gruff as he made his command. “Only girls ranging from ages five to twenty, line up! Now!”

Increased unsettlement coursed through the crowd, mothers and fathers clinging to their young daughters, little girls’ fearful whimpers polluting the air as they hid their faces in their parents’ legs, and even Kagome’s own mother’s hand tightened her grip as a breathy gasp left her lips - understanding that this meant her eighteen year old daughter was being sent into the fire without her. They were narrowing down, slimming the numbers, and the small smiles on the villains’ faces made Kagome assume that something last time may have tipped them off to lessen the demographic.

“What do I do?” Kagome whispered to her cousin, failing in her attempt to hide the sudden panic striking her.

“Nothing. You do nothing.” He urged quietly, shifting his head to look into his younger relative’s eyes. “Listen, Kagome, treat this like routine -“

“This isn’t routine.”

“Treat it like it is. Keep your head down.”

“If they -“

“No.”

“But, they’ll -“

“Kagome, no. You made us a promise.” Miroku reminded firmly, knowing exactly where her mind was traveling. In the case of an incident, which there seemed to be a higher chance of this time around, she may need to intercede.

She took a deep breath, straightening her face as much as possible so Naraku’s men wouldn’t grow suspicious as they impatiently yelled again for the girls to gather before them. “If this means they suspect something -“

“It may just be a tactic they’re using. For all we know, they have nothing and could leave here with the same. So, treat it like routine. Okay?”

“Promise.” Sota insisted during Kagome’s silence. The mens’ barking got louder, more demanding, as did the crying of little girls being pulled away from their parents. With the building weight in her chest, like a liquid filling her lungs quickly, the density making it almost impossible to take full breaths of air or move without falling forward, all she could muster was a meager nod before forcing herself to walk out. Miroku and Sota both leaned to opposite sides to part their shoulders for her to move through, her mother’s soft hand still lightly holding her own until she was far enough for their fingers to slide away from each other’s.

At most, there were about twenty girls in that age range to offer, and Kagome’s brown eyes drifted over the uneven row of heads as she approached, finding her friend in the mix trying to calm the little girl beside her. Sango glanced her way, as if feeling Kagome’s eyes on her, giving an apprehensive grin and waving her over.

“Ready?” Kagome asked, though it was completely rhetorical. It was just habit for these things. It was unavoidable, unexpected, and overall, impossible to be ready for. But, when they bounced the question off of each other, it was like one final reminder to stone.

Sango knew. Sango and her family were the one exception to the familial rule. She was Kagome’s closest friend and Miroku’s significant other. She was more than trustworthy. And, more importantly, had known since Kagome accidentally found out, herself, as a kid. Because, that’s how it was being a conjurer. You weren’t born knowing. You didn’t have an outward appearance that proclaimed your status much like demons did. It was always an accidental happenstance; in her case where she put a little too much oomph into her bow and arrow lessons and purified the evil - and life - right out of a passing crow demon after missing her target.

She remembered the feeling of total surprise, then tremendous fear because she thought she’d be in a lot of trouble. Kagome had literally thrown her bow to the ground like the thing, itself, was the culprit of the power. Miroku was gawking, Sango was covering her mouth with both hands, and their dad’s shared an identical, tight-lipped expression. Her papa was motionless for an overwhelmingly-tense sixty seconds before shifting his wide, curious eyes to her.

“Did you know you could do that?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, daddy.” Kagome innocently answered, but she could feel the red, hot heat in her face from her lie. She was awful at those when it came to the people she was close to. Still was to this day. Give her a stranger and she could keep it straight, but in the face of friends and family, she cracked almost too easily. It was a guilt thing.

But then he’d laughed, ruffling his little girl’s hair before reassuring her that it was okay. He said they’d just have to go about her training a little differently from that point on to make sure accidents like that didn’t keep happening, and it was only because of him, his adventurism, his accessibility to knowledge from his travels, that she even discovered what she was in the first place.

Back then, though it wasn’t quite as dangerous to exist as a conjurer, her papa had still suggested they keep her abilities under wraps. She distinctly remembered binding that with a pinky promise after Sango’s dad had a private discussion with her own. Maybe it was because Sango’s dad was even more educated with the world, and knew the potential hardships that could come her way, being the leader of the demon slayers that he was - and still is. Honestly, the reasoning was hard to determine now because she didn’t put much thought into it when she could and should have. Being the young, spunky, loyal girl that she was, if her dad wanted her to keep a secret and held out his pinky to her, that was all the reason Kagome needed, and nothing pleased her more than making her papa proud. And, when he and her uncle were fatally wounded in a demon attack on their village, even though Naraku’s name had never once yet been muttered near her ears, he still made her do one final pinky promise to him saying, “Protect yourself for me, my little bird. Keep it in its cage. I love you so much, Kagome.”

She wasn’t even a teenager when that had happened. There was a part of her that wondered here and there if he was secretly clairvoyant, or if he merely studied the patterns throughout history of people of her kind and wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and make her life as easy as possible, given the reputation they had, their ever-changing titles, and the ignorance others had of their nature. If only he knew where she was now. Would he still ask his little bird to stay in the cage while the door was wide open?

“Ready. You?” Sango returned, standing straight and allowing the little girl to cling to her leg.

“Ready.” Kagome breathed.

Those not lined up hesitantly backed away, creating space and growing agonizingly silent as they seemingly held their breaths for those that were chosen. Kagome hated when they did that. It was like she could physically feel the onlookers’ anxiety, and it was the last thing she needed on top of that of those actually subjected and her own.

The four men walked back and forth, up and down the two rows of girls, criminal eyes taunting them with silent threats and menacing grins. It was creepy, but no longer was it fear-inducing. Kagome had a bad habit of not shying away anymore. Sure, she was nervous beyond belief, but the last thing she was afraid of were their snarls, scarred and dirty flesh, and crooked teeth. That, of all things, was the least intimidating factor for those who were calloused to the routine.

But, when an abrupt instruction was given by the leader, her already-loose expectations of “routine” fell apart completely.

“Hold out your left hands, palms up!”

Confusion soared through every individual, and Kagome met Sango’s brief side glance, minutely comforted by the fact that she wasn’t the only one without a clue as to what was going on. Questions weren’t allowed though, and even the little ones were well aware of that, so as the small group of men demanded everyone shut up and do it, all outward bafflement dissipated.

Slowly, Kagome raised her left palm, her arm outstretched, swallowing as she willed the slight trembling to cease. Brown eyes searched quickly as she waited for whatever to begin, weeding through the crowd and finding Miroku already pinning her with a stare. It was wary, but hard, his jaw visibly tense.

The sound of an unsheathing blade was unmistakable, and immediately Kagome’s attention bounced to her left where the leader danced the grip of a knife in his fingers, his lips curved downward into a permanent frown. The first girl in line couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, noticeably shaking as her anxious stare bounced from the man to the blade.

A man in the crowd began shouting, stirring, pushing forward through the heap of villagers to reach the forefront, “Hey! No! What are you going to do!? That’s my daughter; what are you going to do!? Don’t you dare touch -“ Abruptly silenced by a defensive elbow to the diaphragm, gifted by an all-too-fast demon.

The young teenager shuddered, not sure what to worry about first as the leader gave her no moment to react, grabbed her hand, extended it further, and gave a small slice with the tip of his knife to the center of her palm. She winced, a whimper easily escaping her mouth from the sharp pain, tears leaking from her eyes quicker than the blood that seeped from her laceration. And then he grabbed her hand in his, sealing their palms together as he stared her in the eyes for a moment. She was utterly terrified, wanting to pull away while knowing she shouldn’t, but as nothing else happened, the man released her, murmuring to stay in line as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his blade, his hand, then moved onto the next.

Kagome’s attention snapped back to Miroku as it dawned on her, his eyes holding the same idea as he gave a steady but stern shake of his head in retort. They were looking for the untrained conjurers. The conjurers who weren’t skilled in holding back. Everyone was already scared, and the wound inflicted a heightened sense of fight-or-flight. Then their hands gripping the victims’ - their demon hands against the victims’… they were working to spark a purification reaction, and they were going about it right this time. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill them, nothing that small or unsuspecting would be, but it would hurt - much like the notorious fairytale of a vampire taking a quick step into the sunlight before swiftly turning around and heading back inside. And, that was all they needed.

Unbeknownst to everyone but Sango and Miroku, Kagome wasn’t completely helpless. Not only was she well-versed in subduing her powers, but alternatively speaking, she could knock a guy completely on his ass. She’d practiced. She’d practiced for hours at a time for several years now to see what she could do, what sort of strength she possessed, all on the far outskirts of the village, hiding near caves with only her friend and cousin who'd agreed, despite promises and secrets, that they all should try to be prepared for anything. By no means was she an expert, but she could handle her own for the most part and a situation like this was something she’d been well-conditioned for, for quite some time now.

Especially since she’d first received that message in a dream.

The responsibility is ours.

Whatever it meant, no matter how bleak it felt, it was a no-brainer that Kagome couldn’t go on without some sort of knowledge of her own potential.

She took a shallow breath, diverting her gaze to the goon before her as he happily took out his own blade, the other two following suit as they set out to narrow the time this was going to take. He stepped forward, grasping the wrist of the frightened and resistant girl beside Sango, who Sango had to hush into calming, telling her it would be done quickly. When nothing gratifying came from the occurrence, the man moved on to Sango, pinning her with a glare that she challenged right back. She hardly flinched at the slice of her skin, brown eyes never leaving the demonic ones of her assailant. When she shrugged a brow as he clasped their hands together, Kagome could practically see the heat rising in the man’s body language, quickly fuming from how audacious Sango was acting - which Kagome couldn’t help but respect, not knowing if the chuckle she forcefully swallowed was one of matched humor or nervousness.

The man threw Sango’s hand to the side, merely wiping her blood from his palm and blade on his pants before vehemently grabbing Kagome’s and extending her arm completely, bringing an inadvertent gasp to escape her throat. As the tip of his knife pierced her palm, dragging slowly to create a burning gash - one larger than Sango’s, so she suspected her nonchalant pass of amusement wasn’t as admissible as she’d thought - Kagome couldn’t stop the hiss that slid off her tongue, her brows creasing and jaw dropping as crimson dripped from her hand to the mud. With a clap, he pressed his palm to hers, fingers squeezing her small hand with unmitigated pressure. She felt a flurry in her abdomen, her diaphragm, her chest, warmth that drove her power, and that was her cue to hold her breath, to pretend everything was fine, to tell herself she was safe and trick her mind when she really wasn’t. She pretended she was holding Sota’s hand - the first person that came to mind, and the least intimidating one that she knew. Sota as an adult whose hand was finally bigger than hers. She couldn’t help but feel this was a huge insult to her younger brother, so she subconsciously apologized as she continued her visualization. It was like a lump built in her throat, the kind that grew too difficult to swallow, but she also felt completely in control, returning the man’s stare before he dropped her hand and moved onto the girl beside her.

“Shh,” Sango gently hushed the small child. “Everything’s fine now, but you have to stay quiet. Give me your hand.”

Kagome slowly let out her captive breath, the air she sucked in to replace it cold and not the least bit comforting despite the danger she’d evaded. She kept her palm face up but closer to her heart, cradling it for a moment as she tried to ignore the searing pain, diverting her attention to Sango and the kid. Her best friend was already looking up at her, using the long sleeve of her shirt to clean the blood from the girl’s hand and apply pressure so it’d stop bleeding, never minding the bleeding of her own palm. Thankfully, it only looked to be a little knick, and Kagome wondered if the creep of a demon that had handled them secretly had a soft spot for children.

“You okay?” Sango silently mouthed to Kagome. She nodded in reply, picking up the bottom hem of her own shirt and pressing it to her wound.

A sudden, deep, and broken yell punched through the air as one of the demons stumbled away, his hand yanked back, fingers furled in offense, and face twisted in rage. A little girl shrieked as he lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her cloak and pulling her out of the line, her feet stumbling to keep up as she cried apology after apology.

No. Conjurers weren’t common; now more than ever. How could there be two in one village? Especially one as small as theirs? How could there be more than one not even miles apart? How did Kagome not know? Didn’t conjurers have the ability to sense one another? She’d only assumed that was the case because of the seemingly-prophetic dreams she’d been having; because of the woman that had been coming to her in those very dreams. It was a weak hypothesis to go off of, but it was the only answer that made sense to Kagome. But, now there was a child being dragged into the center of where the town congregated, begging and pleading for her life while her mother screamed from the sidelines where she was being held at bay, and Kagome was none the wiser to her existence.

She wanted to yell that they were wrong, but how could they have been? It was a physical test. The accidental reaction of her powers was a dead giveaway. They couldn’t even lie their way out of this, or pretend the allegation was false. She was a conjurer. And they were about to kill her.

Kagome’s heart twisted and bunched painfully, that hard lump once more building in her throat, a murmured, “no,” barely leaving her parted lips, and her brown eyes caught a pleased grin on the approaching leader’s face that, just moments ago, seemed stuck in a scowl. He twirled his dagger in his fingers before kneeling down in front of the weeping girl.

“Found you.” He snickered, plunging the blade into her abdomen.

“No!” Kagome gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth in shock. The village was alight with terror, screams, cries, the rumble of defeat, the wailing of a grieving mother striking over all other sounds. Still, she was withheld from her little girl, reaching for her over the shoulder of the unforgiving demon who kept her away.

The knife was yanked free of the girl’s gut and she fell to her knees, her hands braced before her stomach as crimson crawled out, staining the front of her rain-soaked dress. Small hands weakly pressed into her abdomen, the wide look of horror, of pain, of fear etched into every inch of her expression as she gasped tremblingly. All too easily, the leader stood and walked away, not an ounce of remorse displayed.

“She was… she was just a kid.” A sympathetic village man stated morosely. “She wasn’t even ten yet.”

“She wasn’t dangerous!” Another testified.

“Would you like to be next?” A demon threatened, thinking his raised voice would retain order.

Kagome could hardly breathe, tears burning and brimming at her lower lid. All she could think to do was try to stop the bleeding, try to save the child, her feet moving on their own accord as she rushed out of line. Beyond the anger building in the crowd, the yelling growing louder, and the intense disturbance increasing rapidly and overwhelmingly, Kagome heard her name called multiple times. But, she couldn’t bring herself to listen, to stop, as she skidded to her knees in the mud, her arms catching the little girl as she fell forward. Her mother was finally freed, racing over and falling to the ground at her child’s side, helping through her weeping to lay her on her back.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.” She soothed as best as she could, hovering over her daughter's face so the rain wouldn’t hit it, shaking fingers pushing sopping hair from her cheeks.

Kagome grabbed the length from the girl’s cloak that stuck out on her side, bunching it and pressing firmly into the wound. The choked gasp that came from the kid was agonizing, and Kagome apologized profusely, blinking away her own tears as she whipped her head around to take in the rousing group of people, fury evident in their tones, in their bodies, as they returned threats with the offending demons.

“Where’s the doctor!?” Kagome asked as loudly as she could, her soaked, dark hair whipping her in the face as she spun her head around to try and find their town's self-proclaimed physician. “Help! We need help!”

“He isn’t here; he left for herbs yesterday.” Sango informed as she dropped down beside Kagome.

“And he still isn’t back!?”

“The storm must have delayed him.” Sango shook her head in response, her brows creased together as she glanced over her shoulder to quickly mind the budding commotion before turning her worried expression back toward the crying child. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“I don’t - I don’t know.” Kagome stammered, her breathing growing heavier as she panicked, noticing the blood was barely halting, the stain in the girl’s dress expanding and absorbing through the cloth she pressed against the wound.

“Apply pressure!” Miroku instructed when he slid to his knees in the mud on their opposite side, careful of the girl’s mother.

“I am!” Kagome cried.

“Stay with me, baby! Stay with me! I’m right here, look at me!” The woman coo’d, sniffling and gasping with her tremors while the comforting smile never left her lips.

“Hey! Leave her! Let her die, or we’ll kill you too!” One of the vile men demanded, though his shouts went ignored, easily drowned out by the encroaching, enraged men who finally appeared fueled enough to physically challenge them. Kagome could only hope they’d hold the demons back so they’d have the chance to save her.

“Here, let me see!” Miroku pushed Kagome’s shaking hands away, pulling aside the cloth of the cloak to take a peek at the wound in her stomach. Kagome had to look away then, the sight of the thick blood seeping through too much to handle. Instead, she focused her attention on the little girl, crawling up to hold her cold, bleeding hand.

Scared, pained, blue eyes focused on Kagome as she took shuddering breaths, her chest convulsing slightly as her small voice broke with her cries. Little fingers softly gripped her hand in return, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips upward, light beginning to dim from her irises.

“Miroku!” Kagome urged. She glanced back at him and noticed the hopeless expression on his face. One that claimed there was nothing anyone could do. Her heart dropped, a nauseating weight filling her stomach. Quickly, she turned back to the little girl, leaning an inch closer. “Kikyo and the other conjurers, they’re gonna win, okay? We’re gonna win. I promise.”

“Who’s…”

“You! What did you just say!?” Heavy steps sloshed in the mud toward them, his voice low, growling, dangerous.

Kagome had spoken up to be sure the girl had heard her over the yelling, but she hadn’t realized that it could have been heard by anyone else. She didn’t think about the ramifications. She didn’t think. She’d just wanted to fill the child with some form of final hope. What was wrong with that? Was it the fact that she’d said Naraku would fall?

She’d hardly had enough time to turn and react before she was grabbed by the hair and lifted to her feet, yelping as she was dragged back and away.

“You mentioned Kikyo!” He exclaimed, giving a forceful yank as Kagome loudly gasped from her constant stumbling, the pain on her scalp, the fear racing through her. In the thick of it, she’d forgotten Kikyo wasn’t a person who was widely known. She’d forgotten Kikyo was a secret beacon of hope to the surviving conjurers, who appeared in dreams and spoke in riddles.

“No!” Was all she could manage to reply, screamed brokenly, heard clearly throughout the number of villagers around as the action died down and all attention was on them.

“How do you know her!?”

She yelped again, forcefully pulled backward and released to only trip and fall over some tools.

“Tell me, wench!” He demanded, picking Kagome up by her throat and slamming her back against the wall of a home.

“I don’t!” She adamantly swore, still able to speak. His grip was there, but not choking.

“Liar!” He said, slapping her hard across the face. “How do you know Kikyo!?”

“I heard of her in passing!” Kagome cried, wincing from the sting before she was forced to look at him again.

“I find that hard to believe.” He growled, inching closer to her face. His hold on her throat tightened, cutting off air, thick fingers pinching painfully into the sides of her neck. “Where is she?”

“I - I don’t know.” She sputtered, wheezed, her tears hot as they glided down her face. The rain was nothing but a drizzle now, though the distant sound of thunder roared angrily. She was both cold and hot, her lungs begging for air as his hand pushed further against her windpipe.

“Stop it! Let her go!” Miroku barked, and his presence was just enough to distract Naraku’s henchman and cause him to release some tension from her throat. Kagome greedily sucked in as much air as she could, though he still constricted his fingers against her. It was like breathing through a straw.

Her cousin stood there, dark hair sticking to his temples, bloodied hands braced before him as if to reason. “She doesn’t know anything; she just told you!”

“Oh, another tough guy?” A demon behind him chuckled. “A little scrawny for that, don’t you think?”

“You have me wrong, I don’t want to fight. Release my cousin, and we’ll back away peacefully. She meant no harm.”

“The harm was done when she stepped out of place to save the girl!”

“She was a child!”

“She’s a conjurer! She has no place in this world!”

“She did! She did have a place in this world, and we all know it!”

“You best shut the fuck up, boy.” The leader said from the sidelines. “Word may carry that you’re on their side. Now, you wouldn’t want that. Would you?”

“Tell him to let go of her.” Miroku sternly ordered.

“Back off.”

“Let her go!”

“Suit yourself. Have some fun.” Their leader flicked a finger at the two other demons, allowing them to do as they pleased.

Miroku hissed a low, “Fuck,” before dodging a hit from one of the two demons enclosing in on him. He was able to throw one of his own, nailing an ugly bastard in the face before he was grabbed from behind, bulky arms wrapping under and over his shoulders to hold him in place. The other demon was eager while he arrogantly approached in front of him, smiling as he punched Miroku in the stomach.

“Stop! Miroku!” Kagome squirmed against her own offender’s grasp, her instincts beginning to kick in as she felt a wild sensation build in her veins. Something righteous whispered the power she held in her ear, told her to use her abilities to save her cousin, further fueling the heat that made her forget about the nip in the air.

“Kagome, don’t!” Miroku coughed, pinning her with his indigo gaze before his eyes pinched shut from a swift hit to his diaphragm, blood dribbling over his bottom lip and down his chin.

Control sucked Kagome back to the present, the earnest crackle of Miroku’s voice ringing in her ears and overpowering the one that told her to fight. The grip against her throat tightened again, closing off her air passage as red eyes turned back to her, the lines of his frown deep.

“Don’t, what?”

Kagome wasn’t sure if he actually expected an answer or not, but he’d made it physically impossible. She clawed her nails along the thick skin of his large hand, trying to pry him away so she could breathe. It was dire that she didn’t use her powers; she understood this. But, as the adrenaline raced violently through her body, it was growing increasingly harder to keep it subdued. She’d be killed in a heartbeat; she’d already witnessed their unforgiving lack of hesitation. Her mother and younger brother would have to watch. Her cousin, too. She’d promised everyone she would protect herself, and she'd promised herself that she would protect them. Above all that, a different, deeper, more rational voice spoke to her, drowning out the one that told her to take action just a moment ago, telling her that her fight was meant for somewhere else. Something bigger. She could practically feel the breath hitting her ear, urging her of the importance. It told her to swallow it, hold it at bay, keep it buried no matter how badly it burned for release at the underside of her flesh. Keep it in its cage.

Finally, the demon released his tight hold on her neck, opting to firmly grip the front of her shirt. His upper lip twitched in disdain while Kagome sputtered, and coughed, and gasped for air to fill her lungs.

“Don’t, what?” Naraku’s henchman repeated, this time a little lighter, and it was impossible to miss that he was visibly analyzing for any sort of body language that could tip him off.

“Fight.” Kagome attempted to say, though her voice came out incredibly raspy and broken.

“Like I’d be worried about what a girl as small as you could possibly do to me. Unless,” He cocked a brow. “I’d have a reason to worry. Unless, you’re a conjurer.”

She shook her head, scared to look away from him, hyperaware of any movement she made in that moment. She was absolutely terrified of letting him know she was lying, but what if her stiffness was what told him the truth? What if the vehemence behind her objection was exactly what he needed to convict her? Where was the happy medium? Was there one? Kagome’s bottom lip quivered, resisting the impulse to glance Miroku’s way when he continuously coughed, the sound slightly gurgled, scared the shift in her eyes would be mistaken for something else.

“How else would you know who Kikyo is?”

“I - I h-heard of her in p-passing.” Kagome said, still unable to use her voice, and she wondered if the strangulation was enough to damage her vocal cords or if her anxiety was the cause of it. “I-In a nearby town. By - by the r-river.”

The demon yanked her forward and slammed her back against the wall, the back of her head smacking the wood painfully. “Are you a fucking conjurer, wench!?”

“No!” Kagome wheezed, releasing her own hold on his fist to emphatically present the blunt cut on her palm to him before she repeatedly smacked it against his forearm, smearing hers and the little girl’s blood, showing him the exact reaction - or lack thereof - they were looking for in coming today in the first place.

“Let - let her go.” Miroku was on his knees, breathing impaired, holding his side with one hand while the other braced his weight in the mud. “She’s not a conjurer. She’s not. She can hardly even hunt. I have to take her everywhere. There’s no way anyone that knows her would believe she’s one of them.”

“Being a conjurer doesn’t have anything to do with hunting, boy!” One of them spit.

“Well, how the hell would anyone know!?” Sango shouted from the side, still seated on her knees beside the child. Her cheeks were flushed furiously, and her hands were held out inches from her chest, palms up, covered in blood that she was afraid would never wash off. Their attempts were in vain and the mother wept, clinging to her little girl, her face buried in her daughter’s still chest. “Conjurers are practically going extinct; you’re all winning! We don’t know what they can do! They probably don’t know what they can do! Conjurers either have to hide to save their lives, or they don’t even know they are one yet!”

For a brief second, Kagome allowed herself to glance beyond Sango’s head, finding her family. Her mother’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, trembling as she never removed her eyes from her daughter. Her brow was creased deeply, concern etched so thick you’d think an artist may have been too heavy with their pen. Kagome couldn’t tell if her mom was breathing slowly, or if she was holding her breath. She couldn’t tell if her mom was saying a silent prayer, or if words could barely form in her mind as she had no choice but to watch the scene unfold. Her mother had to witness a daughter torn away from another; a daughter who held the same, supernatural fate as her own. Kagome could only imagine the stress that currently laced her mom’s system.

Before her stood both her brother and Sango’s, Sota bearing a wide expression, neck tense and lips parted uncertainly, and Kohaku wearing a more cautious grimace, watching apprehensively. Knowing her onlookers were nervous, worried, should have been the very thing to cause Kagome to proceed carefully, but instead it served as the switch that flicked on in her head. She was tired of living like this, done with the dreadful thought that this was their normal. This wasn’t going to continue.

She’d been waiting for a sign, waiting for her cue. Bags were packed and weapons were stored in a hiding place where they’d been training outside of the village. Miroku, Sango, and she had discussed a while ago that they were going to eventually leave together and find the called-upon conjurers, and join Kikyo to fight against Naraku. It was their - the conjurers’ - responsibility. As much as she wanted to know why, pleaded with the apparition of this seemingly all-powerful conjurer time and time again for an answer, at this point it was no longer deemed necessary. Not anymore. Kagome figured she’d hear this magical invitation telling her when and where - which was farfetched but a fair assumption given she barely had anything to go off of. She even thought she might have to wait a while longer until she was stronger, more trained in her capabilities, before Kikyo gave her some form of clear signal instead of these ominous, detail-lacking prophecies in her subconscience that she was currently getting every other night. But now a tick in her core, an itch in her chest, a steady deepening in her resolve told her the time was now. Screw waiting, screw messages, screw rolling over, screw self-pity, and screw Naraku. If he wanted a fight, if this was his initiation all along, his declaration of war, then he was finally going to get one.

“If that’s the case, bitch, then what were you telling the girl?” The demon holding her collar jerked her slightly to demand her attention, receiving it with vexation.

“I,” Kagome took as stable a breath as she could, her throat aching and voice pathetically weak, clearly evident now that it was due to the ruthless strangling she’d received. “I told her Kikyo would kill Naraku.”

“And, why the fuck would you say that?” He asked, almost surprised at her bold statement.

“I wanted her to go with hope, not fear.”

He guffawed, his chest pumping. “You don’t actually believe that!”

Without hesitation, as straight as she could manage while she halted his laughter, Kagome replied, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His smile faded quickly, humor replaced with anger as his fists bunched tighter and he heatedly pulled Kagome away from the wall and threw her to the floor. Kagome landed on her front, quickly pressing herself to her hands and knees just before he pushed her belly down, her wrists sliding and giving out so the side of her face planted in the mud.

“Kagome -“ Her cousin called, stumblingly crawling her way before another demon kicked him in the side he’d been clutching, a tiny crunch being heard just as Miroku choked in pain.

“Miroku, stop! I’m fine!” She attempted to say clearly, a foot braced on her back.

“Enough.” The leader stated. “Everyone back in line. We haven’t finished yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” A man asked disbelievingly. “You don’t think you’ve done enough damage already!? Get the fuck out!”

“Yeah, get out of here!” Other villagers began to call out, joining in. “You aren’t welcome here! You’re only taking advantage because our demon slayers are gone!”

“You think that matters?” The leader chuckled. “Go ahead. Revolt. Fight back. Make us leave. See how quickly your entire village will be wasted the next time around. You see four of us and think you stand a chance. You see a large group of us and think you’re safe because you’ve got a little pack of demon slayers protecting you. Funny, that’s never stopped our inspections before, so I don’t see why you think that’d stop us now. Either way, not a single one of you would be left alive if we brought a fraction of the wild demons under Naraku’s control, and he wouldn’t bat an eye if we borrowed them to kill you all. In fact, that’s already in the plan if we don’t check in. You kill us all, congratulations, but you’ll be worse off. Compared to him, we’re the most compassionate monsters you’ll ever meet, and I suggest you learn to appreciate that. Now, get your girls back in line.”

“It’s okay, papa.” An older girl spoke. Kagome couldn’t see from where she lay, but she recognized the seventeen year-old’s voice. Ayumi. She was soft-spoken normally, but also fairly brave and kind. The only child of a widowed father, and a girl, like the rest of them, forced to grow up too soon.

Ayumi walked forward, having backed away from the rowdiness with the majority of the girls who hadn’t run back to the safety of their parents. Notching her chin upward, she raised her left palm, “Let them finish. They won’t seem so big forever.”

“Bold girl.” The demon complimented.

“Yeah. The more I find myself hoping the conjurers win, the bolder I feel.”

“Careful, now. You’ll wind up getting yourself killed.”

“Looks like being female might just get me killed, anyway. So, I might as well go down confident that Naraku is the true evil here, and evil never wins.”

“What a disgusting cliche.” He groaned. “Grow a brain and come up with something original before you spew that sort of shit. It’s embarrassing. Look, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but as the chick over there stated, we already are. We’re winning. Now, I won’t argue that we’re the bad guys here, but at this point in time, that doesn’t really matter.”

Ayumi swallowed thickly, eyes faltering downward for the smallest moment before she rose them to meet the red eyes of Naraku’s henchman. As sickeningly as that notion sat in her esophagus, Ayumi felt it would be worse if she’d sunken her shoulders at the validity of their power. By no means was she strong, and by no means was she actually all that courageous. Ayumi, true to heart, was a daydreamer, was a fantasy-enthusiast, was a soft, sweet, and hopeful wisher, was tired, was passive. So, while she could admit her stare wasn’t striking, her irises would never be vivid with the passionate heroism she dreamed about, her lips would never curve with a compelling and threatening snarl, she could also admit that just the act of matching his gaze was all she needed to do to defy defeat. With chapped lips parting, not a waver traveling over her tongue, she spoke. “Yes, it does.”

“Yes, it does.” Another girl agreed, approaching to stand beside Ayumi.

“The world hasn’t always been this way. Naraku only grew large less than five years ago.” A woman said, a mother, holding her fearful daughter in her arms. Several more girls got back in line, their shoulders a little more broadened than before. “I find it appalling how arrogant you all have gotten in such a short time. I assure you, conjurer, demon, human, or anything in between, I’d give them my trust sooner than I’d yield to the idea of life staying like this. Good and evil, the difference will always matter. So, yes. Yes, it does.”

“Inspirational.” One of Naraku’s demons remarked sarcastically, cringing.

“Hey, whatever blows your skirt up, lady.” The leader shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want. No sweat off my back. Funny enough, I’d put down all the money in my pockets right now to bet not a single one of them would return that trust, nor would they risk their lives to save you. I mean, not to play devil’s advocate or anything, but look at the twisted circumstances. What the fuck have you done to help them? Human’s are selfish; only looking out for themselves. You hate us showing up because you don’t want us to hurt you. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with us hunting down conjurers, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with that little girl on the ground over there. If it did, you would have never watched it happen. If it did and it was just the ‘shock factor’ holding you back, you still would have done a little more than yell at us about how unfair it was. Oh, cry me a fucking river.” He grinned, stepping over to the first girl in the newly-formed line. There were less than half left that hadn’t been tested, and he got straight to work, unforgivingly slashing at the pre-teen’s palm and slapping his own to hers as he continued his heartless speech. “Even better, there’s two of your own on the floor, both of them getting quite the beating, and not a single fucking one of you did a damn thing to help. I understand the lad; that’s his - er - sister? Cousin? And, I mean, at least the chick tried to help the conjurer survive. I’ll give them kudos, but I think I speak for all of us non-humans when I say fuck the rest of you egotistical pricks. Oh no, my child might have a scar on her hand. Oh no, more trauma.” The leader mocked, his tone high and whiney. “Yeah, well, at least they’re not dead in the mud like little Suzie over there.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience at the harsh and morbid insensitivity. Still, no one challenged him. Someone should have, and no one said a thing.

Kagome tasted bile on the back of her tongue from the disgusting sentiments plaguing the thick, electric air. How cruel. She wanted to open her mouth and beg him to stop and just finish his job already, force her broken voice out to demolish his train of thought and hope he doesn’t mention the death for the remainder of his stay. The only thing stopping her was Miroku’s steady stare on her. It held more power than an order from his mouth to stay quiet ever could. With a foot on her back as a warning for more damage, the impending threat that he would easily be hurt again, and the fact that she’d said enough as it was, no matter how bold she felt in the face of this evil, she knew she was meant to face the source. She could only do that alive. So, begrudgingly, she obliged to his logical demand.

If they wanted them to finish, they needed to stop fighting. They needed to shut up. A double-edged sword. Like bowing their heads to the abuse. Enabling it. Allowing it so it ends quicker.

Kagome could feel her palms burning in the mud, a sense of humiliating defeat flooding her chest, making her feel sick to her stomach. She kept her eyes on Miroku, he kept his eyes on her. She tried to raise the volume of her thoughts, no matter how negative they were, to tune out the gasps and muffled cries of the young girls as they received the cut to their palms for testing.

How could she hold any form of power, yet still feel so powerless? How could she have the privilege of a voice, but feel so irrevocably silenced? She wanted to believe she could save everyone there if she just untied the knots concealing her abilities, but it physically pained her to understand that it was the wrong thing to do. It would be counterintuitive. It would wind up getting them all killed later. She could fight, but she also couldn’t.

“And, there you have it.” The leader finished by wiping his knife clean and slipping it back into the little holster on his hip, the hint of pride and sarcasm on his tongue. “Thank you so much for your cooperation and understanding. We’ll be seeing you.”

The demon holding Kagome down applied a small kick of pressure as he lifted off of her, chuckling as his dirty boots stuck in the mud with each step away.

There was an eerie silence, one that grew more deafening as the henchmen took their horses and disappeared from the village. It was heavy, thick, like sludge. Weighted with failure and death. Even the cries from the mother were muted. For a moment, Kagome thought that instead of drowning out the pained noises with her own thoughts, her brain had responded late to her distress by completely disabling her sense of hearing instead. But, she could hear the stickiness of the mud as she peeled herself from the ground to sit on her knees. She could hear feet slowly walking - most likely children rejoining their families. She could hear the thunder threatening them of the next onslaught of rain to come. The silence that captivated them was one that couldn’t be lifted with a simple, “Thank god that’s over.” No one could make it dissipate by asking if everyone was okay. Because, it didn’t matter.

And, that was something everyone, even the young, could recognize.

The small talk that would eventually come when everyone was back in their homes, the whispers, the crying, and maybe even tiny chuckles from people trying to find the little joys to get them through this, they would all be irrelevant. Because, outside there would be a blanket of despair thicker than the friction-inducing clouds hanging over them at this very moment, and it promised them there that it would stick around as long as it needed to.

“Hey,” A soft voice spoke in Kagome’s ear, a gentle, cold hand brushing her arm, and it was only when she gasped and jerked upright that she realized she’d been hanging her head, sights stuck on her hands on her thighs. “Sh, sh. It’s just me.” Her mother reassured, kneeling beside her and using her sleeve to try and wipe her face clean of some clumpy mud. “Are you alright, honey?”

Out of sheer reaction, she gave a meager nod.

“Look at me, Kagome. Look at me. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Kagome said as convincingly as possible. When Miroku groaned, catching her mother’s attention and even her own, she was happy to have the focus off of her. Kohaku and Sango were beside him, trying to sit him up, freezing as he struggled.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you home.” A couple, larger village men came over, better suited to help. One of them firmly clasped his hand in Miroku’s, quickly pulling him up to his feet so the pain wouldn’t be dragged out. Her cousin hissed at the shock, clenching his throat to try and swallow his grumble, and the two men supported him by pulling his arms over their shoulders.

“Can you stand?” Kagome’s mother asked.

“Yeah.” She whispered, not wanting to irritate her throat further and finding no real need to speak up right now. “I’m fine, mama. Don’t worry about me. Miroku needs your attention more.”

“Even if that were true, he’s kind of surrounded. I don’t think I’m needed there, love.” She replied, grabbing her by her elbow to support her as they stood together. “Sota, take her other side, please. Just in case.”

“Wait.” A broken voice called to them, trembling but by no means weak.

They all stopped just two steps in, looking over to the mother on the ground. Her daughter’s body, from head to toe, was covered by a long cloak belonging to one of the villagers beside her now, attempting to give comfort.

“Kikyo? Is that what you’d said? Kikyo?” She asked Kagome.

As clearly as she could, with a little nod of her head as she processed the question, Kagome said, “Yes.”

“Who is that?”

Kagome could feel the tension in her brow falter as the sympathetic, concerned curve in them wilted away to change more into dubiousness. “You - you don’t…” She didn’t know who Kikyo was. Even her own mother knew who Kikyo was. Her mom was the first to hear about her dreams before she started discussing them with the rest of her family. Had her daughter not had the same messages coming to her? Or, was she so confused, so distraught from them all, that she chose secrecy over being seen as insane?

“She’s a conjurer.” Kagome answered.

“Is she - is she a strong conjurer?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry, did your daughter never mention anything about Kikyo?” Sango carefully asked.

“N-no. Why would she?”

“We were just under the impression that she may have been sending survivors telepathic signals of sorts.” She said.

“That’s preposterous.” A man scoffed.

“Maybe. We heard it in passing. From an old man, no less.” Miroku said, discomfort laced in his tone.

“What - what could she possibly have had to say to a little girl?” The mother asked, her bottom lip quivering while her hand rested on her daughter’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew.” The words were painful to speak. Not from her throat, but from the fact that she had to lie to a woman who’d had her everything stolen from her. A woman who, more than anyone, deserved the truth.

When she’d said what she’d said about Kikyo before, the little girl had muttered something in return before the demon tore Kagome away. It seemed like she was about to ask who Kikyo was. Kagome was sure now that the kid didn’t know. She hadn’t had the dreams, the premonitions, the one-sided conversations, nothing. She hadn’t had any communication with Kikyo, whatsoever. Maybe Kikyo was kind to exclude the young, and only spoke to the older, potentially more conditioned conjurers.

Or, maybe there was a possibility that Kagome was the only one.

And, it terrified her.

“Will she win? Kikyo? Will she defeat Naraku?” The crying mother asked.

Kagome was finding it hard to reply, to communicate. Her throat was tightening up as she watched the woman’s body begin to crumble once more toward her little girl’s; like she needed to be connected with her to prevent her from going cold. She could feel her eyes stinging, tears brimming, her fingers quaking and legs growing weak. Her cheeks felt hot and her chest wouldn’t allow a full breath of air - only unsteady, unmatched, quick puffs that burned. A hot hand slid into her right, her brother’s fingers tightening their grip, but she couldn’t control her body enough to grab it back.

“I refuse to believe otherwise.” Sango answered confidently.

The mother now sobbed, nodding in acknowledgment as she weeped over the covered body of her daughter. “Thank you.”

Kagome wanted to apologize profusely. For failing to protect her. For failing to try to protect her. For her loss. For the chance she was never given to learn to defend herself. For the silence she had to keep. The guilt was so heavy on her shoulders, she was ready to give in in front of them all, but the hand in hers pulled her back, made her move.

More villagers were moving toward the mother and child to help comfort while they removed the body, and that was the prime opportunity to get Kagome out of there. Sota could tell from the moment it started that she was going to break down, maybe even panic. He knew his sister, he knew the signs, he understood the stress she was under, and he wanted nothing more than to get her away and help her as best as he could. So, he disregarded everyone else and began pulling Kagome ahead. Miroku would have to move at a slower pace, Sango and Kohaku would stick by him and the men that helped, and he figured their mom would respect that they needed a moment of peace where they weren’t under more eyes than necessary.

Sota ignored the broken utterances of his name that came from his sister, he ignored the threatening weather, and he ignored anything that could potentially get in his way. He directed Kagome around their house, to the back, and toward the tree line of the woods. Three trees in past the shrubbery bush, on the opposite side of the trunk, Sota found the rope ladder to the treehouse their dad had built them hanging. Holding it steady, he released Kagome’s hand.

“Come on. Climb.”

-> | next chapter |

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

chapter I

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); blatant lack of knowledge of ship mechanics; only one use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 5.1k

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. Actually, one had never showed up. And this one was huge. A buff man, covered in heavy armor that had been painted blue. Even his helmet evoked fear. The townspeople were watching myth become reality. 

The large man walked into Aliria’s Shop. The shop had a name once, when Aliria’s parents had opened it, but that was some 80 years ago now. The shop had survived the Clone Wars and the Empire, not to mention the constant flow of smugglers and thieves customary to the Outer Rim. Aliria’s Shop wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

It was a fairly small shop, especially considering all the things packed into it. Aliria carried food, clothes, a small array of weaponry, and medical supplies. There wasn’t much in the little town, a droid mechanic, a ship mechanic, a small infirmary, and a bar. Aliria’s Shop was the hub, she had the essentials. 

The Mandalorian was like a bull in a china shop inside the store. Aliria had crammed crates, tables, and shelves into every crevice of the store. Not to mention the various pieces of merchandise hanging from the ceiling. 

“Watch it, Mandalorian!” Aliria yelled at the man as he almost hit the shelf of fruits with the huge gun on his back. She may look like a frail older woman at the age of 75, but her voice didn’t show it. Aliria’s tan skin was weathered and her body was tired, but her voice held life. She was the backbone of the community. 

The armored man let out a gruff sorry before moving on. He was looking down at his gauntlet, reading some kind of list. “Kriffing hell, how do I find anything in here?” 

“We don’t get many outsiders, Mandalorian,” she said. “But my sales associate can help you. She was an outsider once, too.”

The pitch black of his visor shifted to you. Your hair was a bit messy, as you’d just helped your co-worker unload a speeder of goods. But you smiled at him. A change of pace is always nice. You walked from behind the counter to be in front of the Mandalorian and you asked, “What are you looking for, sir?” Your customer service voice was rough, you never needed to use it with most of the customers. They knew you personally, everyone knew everyone here. 

“You got ration bars?” His voice was gruff and deep, but you couldn’t tell if that was just because of the helmet. 

“Not many,” you told him. “Maybe ten? Aliria has such good prices, no one ever needs to buy a ration bar in place of real food.” It was a sales pitch you’d been taught when training here, but it was the truth. Why pay a credit for a ration bar when you can pay a credit for instant noodles? 

He huffed a little. “I’ll take all ten.” This man was weird, you decided. “Non-perishables? Do you have any?”

“We’ve got some beans, some vegetables that won’t go bad for at least a few years, rice, and a few other things. They’re all kind of scattered around.”

“Of course they are,” he was annoyed. “Where’s the vegetables?”

You pointed through a door at the back of the shop. “Greenhouse out back. Tell me what you need, I’ll go grab it.” Reluctantly, he showed you his gauntlet. It was a grocery list. You locked the information into your mind, grabbed a basket and headed to the greenhouse. 

When you got back, he was in the same place. He must’ve seen your confusion because he said, “I’d rather not waste time looking for things myself. I figure you’d be better at it.” And you were. You helped him get everything he needed, but the list just got weirder. Baby formula, toddler sized coveralls, ammunition, a journal, and more miscellaneous items that made no sense to you. You didn’t believe a Mandalorian was going to hand write something and in a journal, no less.

You wanted to know more, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be keen on questions. Before you’d come to Dantooine, you’d been all over the galaxy and heard stories of Mandalorians and their secrecy. 

“What brings you to Dantooine, Mando?” You ask as you ring up the last of his items, putting them in the up-cycled grain bag grocery bags. You were tired of the tense silence, Aliria had gone into the back to do Maker knows what, and the Mandalorian’s stare was unnerving. 

“Work,” he said. His visor remained unmoving, his eyes were on you. You had a feeling that ‘work’ was something either illegal or close to it. “You?”

You were surprised. And, again, he must’ve noticed. “The old lady said you are an outsider, too.”

“Was an outsider, Mando,” you correct, bringing up his total. “I came here for work, too.” He could tell you were lying, or at least not sharing the whole truth. “It’s two-hundred credits, Mando.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out all the credits. “That should be two-hundred.” It was. Exact change and everything. Once you’d counted the money and placed it in the register, he grabbed all his bags with ease and turned to walk out. 

“Have a nice day!” you tell him, remembering your lines Aliria insisted on. He said nothing in return.

-  

Paz Vizsla arrived back at his ship far out from the town. He put the bags of supplies for the covert in the cargo hold and cleared the message from Armorer that detailed what they needed. After the covert had to relocate, they were in desperate need of supplies. Especially for all the children who lost a buir or, Maker forbid, both buire. The children who had basically become foundlings. Paz’s heart broke for them, he tried to be the best ba’vodu, but there some things that even stories from Uncle Paz couldn’t fix. 

He’d spent the little bit of left over change from the bounty on something for each kid, even Bezza, who was old enough to be treated as an adult at seventeen. She’d lost her buire, and the least Paz could do was get her a nice, leather-bound journal that she’d been pining for. Something hard to come by in a galaxy that had moved on from physical writing. 

Paz closed the cargo hold and began moving himself towards the cockpit. He was tired, and though no one else agreed, he was getting old. Nearing 44, he was ready to just be Mr. Vizsla the teacher, Uncle Paz, and hopefully buir someday. But he was one of the Tribe’s best fighters. They needed him to keep hunting, so he did. This is the Way. 

He moved to start up the ship. It gave a groan, but lit up all the same. Paz began his takeoff procedures, but the ship wouldn’t budge. Kriff, he thought. This can’t happen. Paz Vizsla was a capable fighter, fluent in Mando’a, and a brilliant teacher, but he was no mechanic. That had always been his biggest shortcoming. I have no credits, he realized. Stuck on Dantooine with no credits. 

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. But this one had now shown up twice. The awe of the townsfolk was still the same. He trudged back into Aliria’s Shop. This old woman would know someone willing to fix a ship for some food, he thought. She seems to know everything.

Except, when he walked in he was greeted by a new face. Not the saleswoman who’d helped him a few hours ago, nor was it the old woman. “How can I help you?” The boy asked. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. 

“You know anyone who’d be willing to fix a ship for a meal? Or maybe a small blaster?”

The kid shook his head. “No one around here is that desperate. I’ll go get Aliria, though. She might know someone I don’t.” The kid retreated into the back room without fully taking his eyes off Paz. 

When he returned, he had Aliria hobbling along next to him, bony hands around his arm. “Zenith says you need a mechanic? There’s a shop down the road but what he charges won’t be worth what you get,” the woman says. 

“I need someone who will work for something other than credits,” he says. “I don’t have any.”

You looked up from the datapad in the backroom. You had experience as a mechanic, you were rusty after all these years, but better than the other option, who probably learned by seeing a few pictures on the holonet. Maybe this was your ticket back out of the Outer Rim. You’d amassed enough credits to at least get an apartment for a bit until you can get work. Core Worlds always had open jobs, and you have connections. You hated to leave the little town, but it had always been the goal. You just thought it’d be many more years. 

You stepped out of the back room. “I’ll do it, Mando. I’ve got experience, I can probably fix it.” Zenith seemed surprised, but Aliria just smiled.

“I can’t pay,” he reiterated. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said. We’ll negotiate the price on the way to your ship. You got tools?” He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight, Aliria. I’ll finish up inventory then.” The old woman told you not to worry about it and shooed both of you off, ready to get back to whatever she was up to in the storage room. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, you said, “Passage to Hosnian Prime. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hosnian Prime? Do you know how long it’s going to take me to get from Dantooine to Hosnian Prime?” He was annoyed. The ship must be having a minor issue, but you were wanting a major payment. “And so far out of my way, my home is in the Outer Rim. And I’ll have no credits to refuel.”

Now you were the annoyed one. “I’m fixing your ship, Mando. You said anything but credits. My offer is passage to Hosnian Prime for the fixing of your ship.”

“How do I know you can even fix my ship? Why aren’t you the town mechanic?”

This wasn’t something you wanted to get into. You hadn’t talked about it in so long. Not since you got to Dantooine and Aliria took you in, vowing to help you back to wherever you wanted to be. “I was done being a mechanic, Mando, that’s why.”

“So you decided to work in a dingy little shop? With the galaxy’s oldest woman?”

You felt anger grow stem from the seed of annoyance. Aliria was like your grandmother. Like the whole town’s grandmother. And here comes an outsider, insulting Aliria’s shop. Aliria’s family built that town from the ground up. And this outsider insults her. “Do not speak of Aliria or her shop like that again, Mando. Or I won’t fix your ship and you’ll be stuck on Dantooine forever.”

Paz felt bad. He’d cut too deep, he’d only meant it to be a friendly dig about your job, a job most people weren’t ever satisfied with. He’d thought you’d laugh. He’d thought wrong. You walked in silence the rest of the way. 

“This is your ship?” you asked. No wonder it wouldn’t get off the ground. “Maker, Mando, what have you put this thing through?” It was dented, covered in carbon scoring, and there were chunks of it missing. You could only guess how bad the inner workings were. 

“A few altercations,” he replied. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at this sorry excuse for a Mandalorian’s ship with love and pride. 

You laughed a little and shook your head. “I haven’t even looked at the wiring, but I think taking me to Hosnian Prime is the absolute least you could do for the work I’m going to have to do on this thing.”

“I just need it to fly,” he told you. “Nothing fancy.”

“Mando, this thing is going to pull itself apart when you try to leave the atmosphere. I’m surprised it even made it through,” you told him. 

The ship always groaned a little when Paz asked it to do things, but it always had obeyed. Without fail. Until now, of course. “It did sound a bit...pained when I arrived.” He left out the whole being fired at by ex-Imps and the harsh landing he’d made that’d landed him here. 

“Alright, I’ll go take a look, if that’s ok? And I’ll try to tell you when I think I’ll have it done.” He nodded, and pushed a button on his gauntlet, giving you access to the ship. 

-

“Bad news and good news,” you told him as you reemerged from the ship. “Bad news is this is a piece of junk and you should replace it. Good news is I can fix it and it’ll only take a few days.”

A few days. He needed to get these things back to the covert, they needed them. “Ok,” he said. “But before I take you to Hosnian Prime, we’ll need to make a pit stop on Yavin IV. I gotta get these supplies back.” You nodded, just as long as you’d be getting to Hosnian Prime at some point. 

“I’ll get started, if that’s ok?” He nodded and you retreated back inside. The external damage wasn’t as crucial as the internal, your job was going to be rough.

It was a long, hard rest of your day. The blasted ship held the humidity of the planet tightly and your coveralls were thick. You’d brought down the top half to tie around your waist, leaving you in your tank top and bra. You caught glimpses of the Mandalorian as you moved past the port holes, and he just sat there on a rock, not moving. All day. You couldn’t imagine the heat under that armor. 

When you came out of the ship again, it was night. “I’ve made good progress. It won’t be done tomorrow, but maybe the day after. If I’m lucky, of course.” And worked almost non-stop, you silently added.

“Good,” he says. “Go home and rest, dal’ika.”

You furrowed your brow. “My name isn’t dal’ika.” 

“I know,” he said, and then he moved past you onto his ship. 

“Good night to you, too!” You called. 

- 

You walked to Aliria’s small home once you got back into town. She deserved to know your plans, you thought. She’d probably even help. 

“Ah! Dear! You’re back!” she said. “I was worried the Mandalorian would take you, but then I figured you’d comm if he’d try anything.”

You smiled. “He didn’t do much of anything. Just sat there.”

“What did you tell him your price is, dear?” 

You took a deep breath and sat on the sofa next to her. “Passage to Hosnian Prime.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “It’s time,” you said. “I have enough credits, especially since I won’t have to pay for transportation.”

“What will you do there, dear?” Aliria was worried. You were a grown woman, yes, but she felt protective. 

“Find General Organa,” you said. “See if she keeps promises.” You knew she would. She always had.

Aliria gave a bittersweet smile. “I knew you’d leave someday, but I never thought of how it would feel.” Her heart was breaking, and so was yours. This woman took you in when you showed up a mess on Dantooine, she held you during nightmares, and she helped you buy the little hut you now call your own. She gave you a job and a place in the community. “You’ll do much good on Hosnian Prime, dear. I know you will.”

You didn’t know what she meant, but somehow you believed her. “Thank you, Aliria. Thank you.” You couldn’t seem to say anything else, but it wasn’t adequate to what you were feeling. You needed a stronger phrase, but you didn’t know one.

“Take care of that Mandalorian, now,” she said, trying to be a bit more lighthearted. “I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband.”

You rolled your eyes. All the old women in town were like this. “He barely even talks to me and calls me dal’ika instead of my name, which he hasn’t asked for, by the way.”

“He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure. Especially if he’s got to take you from here to Hosnian Prime,” Aliria said. “You didn’t talk much when you arrived, either, remember?”

Aliria always had a way of finding the good in people, even if it was hardly there. That was rare, especially this far out in the galaxy, and you cherished it. You’d learned early on not to do that, but Aliria helped you open up more. Maybe she was right, this journey would result in a new friend.

“Ok, Ali, I will take care of the Mando,” you said. “Now I think I’m going to go home. Want to be up early tomorrow to fix his ship.”

She nodded and patted your knee. “Take the speeder bike tomorrow, it seems like a long walk.” You nodded, and placed your hand over hers for a moment. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” she said and then she shooed you out in the way only an old lady could.

-

The next morning it was cooler outside. The trees swayed gently in the soft wind, and you became grateful for the coveralls as you picked up speed on the bike. You looked the same as you did the day before, just a little less rested. There was a little sunlight, but not much, and there were still a few nocturnal animals on the path. 

Arriving at the ship, everything was still closed up, and the big Mando nowhere in sight. You contemplated banging on the door, but before you made a decision the door lowered into a ramp and he walked out. “You’re very early, dal’ika.” 

“Told you I would be. Need all the daylight I can get.”

“Indeed.”

His gaze bore down on you again. You really took in how large he was. He had to be over six feet tall and maybe even closer to seven in the armor. A few people in town speculated that he wasn’t actually as buff as he seemed and that it was just the armor, but you doubted that. 

“I’ll go ahead and get started, if that’s ok?” 

He nodded. “You don’t have to keep asking, dal’ika.”

“That’s still not my name,” you said in a singsong voice over your shoulder as you walked up the ramp. He walked over towards some of the denser areas of trees.

You tried to watch him as discreetly as possible through one of the port holes, but you had a suspicion that, somehow, he could tell you were watching. He walked over some of the logs of fallen trees that had piled up towards the edge of the clearing. He picked two large ones, one in each arm, and set them upright. Then, he placed the large stones on the top of and behind them to keep them standing. 

He retreated a few yards, and his hands slid down to his thighs. He brought two blasters back up. Ah, you thought. Target practice. 

As much as you knew you needed to begin your day’s work, you stood at the port hole and watched him fire blast after blast, and you knew he hit each spot he intended to. He moved back farther, fired some more, and then moved off at angles. You never thought you’d be attracted to a man whose face you’d never seen and name you didn’t know, but here you are. 

Finally, you tore your gaze from the beskar-covered man and began your work, getting the tool box from where you’d left it yesterday. 

-

It was noon when you walked down the ramp again. The Mandalorian had finished his shooting hours ago, and had now shed his shin and thigh armor, along with the heavy cannon he carried on his back. He was already looking at you when you stepped into the doorway. 

“Need something, dal’ika?” 

You shook your head. “Lunch time, Mando.” You pulled some kind of bar out of your pocket. “It’s got meiloorun filling,” you brag. 

“Sounds good,” he said, a little amused at what you considered something to brag about. 

You sat down on the rock opposite him. “You want one? I’ve got an extra.”

“No, thank you, dal’ika,” he replied. 

You sunk your teeth into the grain and meiloorun bar, chewed, and swallowed. “What language even is that?”

“Mando’a,” he said. “The language of my people.”

“The Mandalorians?” You ask dumbly.

He let out a chuckle, it was small, but the vocoder processed it. “Yes, dal’ika, but I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s that mean? That word you’re calling me?”

He contemplated for a moment, but finally told you. “Dal’ika means woman in Mando’a. Well, dala means woman. The ‘ika bit just means it's a nickname. It implies that you’re, well, small. It’s used for kids a lot but also for friends.” He regretted saying that, in case you found it insulting or weird. He quickly moved on. “And I definitely consider you more than an acquaintance, especially since we’ll be spending some time together.”

You looked at him. You’d never thought of yourself as small. “Well, that’s good to hear. And I think everyone is small next to you, Mando.”

He laughed again, and you took another bite. “I suppose so. What is your actual name?” You tell him, and he nods. “I can call you that, if you’d like?”

“Dal’ika is fine,” you say. You’d never really had a nickname before. “But you can call me my name, too, if you want.”

“Ok, dal’ika,” he said. “Where are you from?”

You looked at him. Why all the questions? You briefly thought of home, but closed your eyes. “Rather not say.”

He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry that I keep saying the wrong things. I really should know better, considering I don’t like too many questions, either.”

“It’s ok, it’s not like you know what will strike a cord,” you tell him. You hurriedly finished your lunch, eager to get back on the ship in case memories of home flooded back into your mind and tears flooded your eyes. “Well, I’m off,” you say, standing awkwardly and walking back to the ship, leaving the Mando by himself again. 

You sat on the floor of the ship, one of the flooring panels removed, working on some wiring. In the back of your mind you saw your childhood home, the mountain peaks you could see from the backyard, and the neighbor kids that you’d played with every day after school. You remembered leaving. You remembered never being able to go back. 

Your hands are still in the wire compartment in the floor. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and smiled to yourself. Aliria always said smiling makes you feel better. It worked, and your hands began moving again, replacing and connecting wires.

-

Again, it was nightfall when you came out of the ship. The Mandalorian had all his armor on again, and he stood as you emerged. “I should’ve walked you home last night, dal’ika. It was dark when you left, I’m sorry for not offering.”

You felt your heart swell a little. He was a gentle giant, you decided. “Thank you, Mando, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s not like there’s dangerous people here.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I should have.”

You gave up and replied, “That would’ve been a kind gesture. I would take you up on the offer tonight, but Aliria lent me her speeder, so I don’t need an escort today.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Just be careful, dal’ika. Hosnian Prime awaits.” He walked past you and onto the ship, just like he had the night before. 

-

The next day was almost the same, except you had to walk. Aliria needed the speeder for Zenith and supplies he was picking up from a nearby farm, but apart from that, everything was the same. You made small talk with the Mandalorian over your lunch (a star fruit bar today), and  watched him shoot his blasters from afar. You got a lot of work done today, most of the hard stuff was finished and now just needed some tweaking. You moved on to the exterior of the ship a few hours before nightfall. 

“Dal’ika,” he said as you started working on the exterior. “Only do what you absolutely need to on the outside. I’d hate to see your hard work go to waste when I get into another altercation.” 

You nodded, but replied, “I hope you don’t plan on getting into one of your altercations while I’m aboard.”

“Well, I never really plan on them, but I’ll be extra careful if it makes you feel better,” he told you. 

You smiled. “It does.”

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

You nodded, opening one of the exterior panels and examining it. “I know. I just have a few more things,” you assured him. “And then I’ll take you up on your offer to walk me home.” You turned your head towards him and smiled, but what you didn’t know was that your smile brought the slightest blush to his cheeks. 

Paz sat back down on his rock while you worked on the exterior. He thought about the smile you’d given him, how you weren’t afraid of him. There’s something more to this one, he thought. Something’s made her tough, and it wasn’t this village.

Finally, you finished. “Alright,” you told the Mando as you exited the ship after putting the tools up. “It should fly, but we can test that tomorrow. For now, I need to go home.”

He nodded and stood from the rock. “Lead the way, mechanic,” he said. 

You walked a pace or two in front of him, even though he didn’t really need to be led to the town. It wasn’t like there were many of those around here, but he let you, and you rambled about the place with pride. About Aliria with pride. 

After a few beats of silence, he spoke up. “May I ask what’s on Hosnian Prime? If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.”

“An old friend,” you said and looked back at him again. This smile was different, he noticed, but he wasn’t sure how. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, but I know she still cares.” You were telling him the truth, so why did you feel like you were lying? He didn’t need to know that General Organa was the friend or why you knew her. But you almost wanted him to know. Still, you held back. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sounds nice. I’ve heard good things about Hosnian Prime.” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything about Hosnian Prime except that it was the new capital of the New Republic. 

“I have, too,” you agreed. “What about you? What’s on Yavin IV?”

“Family,” he said. He was telling the truth, so why did he feel like he was lying? And why was he trusting you with the planet of the covert? 

You nodded. “I figured, with all the baby stuff you bought. Is your wife a Mandalorian, too? I heard Mandos can only marry Mandos.”

He was shocked a little, forgetting that you didn’t know much about his culture. “No, I don’t have a wife. Or kids of my own. My Tribe is my family, and there are kids in the Tribe. They’re just not mine.”

“Oh, interesting,” you said, kicking a rock in front of you. You were surprised to find yourself relieved that he did not have a wife. “So, like, can you only marry inside your tribe?”

“No, dal’ika,” he laughed. “We’d end up with some interesting children if we kept it in the tribe. Some people marry within the tribe, some never marry, and others marry outsiders.” He didn’t really know how accurate his answer was. Maybe, in big tribes, people did just marry in the tribe. But the covert he belonged to was too small for that. 

You kicked the rock again as you arrived at the place it had landed. “Huh,” you said. “Guess I never thought about that.” 

“We prefer people not think about us at all,” he replied. His tone was solemn when he said this, and you instinctively placed a hand on his armored arm to comfort him. The Mandalorian was brought to a blush under his helmet again. Maker, he thought. How’s she doing this to me?

You walked into the town in comfortable silence, your arm now wrapped around his, fingers lightly rubbing the armor. It was meant as a soothing technique, but you doubt he could feel it under the layers of metal and cloth. Eventually, you neared your home. “That one’s mine,” you pointed. The house’s door was painted blue, and your flowerbed was filled with blue flowers. 

“Your house matches my armor, kebiin’ika,” he said.

A new nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“Kebiin is blue. And, you know, ‘ika is ‘small’ and an endearment.” 

“Little blue?” You ask.

He nodded. “Ding, ding, ding,” he said. “You’d pick up Mando’a quickly, I think.” You smiled at him, you spoke Basic and Huttese already, why not learn a third? He smiled back, though all you could see was metal and visor. “Are we leaving tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I think that’d be good. Tomorrow after lunch, maybe? I’ve got to pack up my stuff and say good-bye to everyone.” He nodded. He’d forgotten that you’re leaving your life behind. “I don’t have much stuff, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

He chuckled again. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t worry. We’d find the space.” There was a warmth in his voice that made your whole body warm. You could tell he cared about the people close to him deeply if he cared about a stranger like this.

You unlocked your door and stepped inside. You weren’t expecting a good night, as you had no reason to, but you did stop yourself from closing the door all the way.

You looked up at him through the half-open blue door. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “For walking me home. It’s very kind.”

“You deserve kindness, Y/N,” he replies, as if it was painfully obvious. Then, you realized he said your name. Your real name, not some Mandalorian nickname. 

You smiled again, your lips were beginning to hurt but your face wouldn’t let you stop. “Will I ever get to know your name, Mando?”

“Someday.”

[mydogisveryadorbs]

blue ain't your color | jj maybank

masterlist

summary: song fic based on blue ain’t your color by keith urban.

warnings: mentions of mentally and physically abusive relationships, underage drinking, mentions of drugs, angst, fluff, v soft jj

PSA: this is not in any way meant to idealize or romanticize abusive relationships. if you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship please get help. below are some resources and learning tools. 

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1 (800) 799 – 7233

Love is Respect – National Teen Dating Abuse Hotline: 1 (866) 331 – 9474

more hot lines and info: https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

learn more: https://www.thehotline.org/psa/

lyrics in bold

3.8k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

I can see you over there

Starring at your drink

Watchin' that ice sink

All alone tonight

You look down at your drink, moving the straw in a circular motion causing the ice to swirl around creating a small tornado.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you realize you've been waiting here for almost two hours. 

Your boyfriend was supposed to meet you at Topper’s party at 9. In the first thirty minutes, you weren't surprised. Liam, your kook boyfriend of 10 months, was late for almost everything, so this didn't come as a shock to you. 

When the one hour mark hit you were honestly quite worried. What if he was in an accident? What if he got jumped? Maybe your thoughts were most likely irrational, but you couldn't help but worry about your boyfriend.

One hour later, you had gotten past the worrying stage. Now you were simply angry, no, furious at him. Had he stood you up? Did he forget about you? These thoughts were definitely more rational. It wouldn't be the first time Liam stood you up, but you would make sure it was the last. 

At the beginning of your relationship, everything had been sunshine and butterflies. About two months in, however, he asked you to stop seeing your friends.

You see you were a born and raised pogue. Your dad was a close friend of Big John so you had practically grown up with John B, JJ, and Pope, in more recent years becoming close friends with Kiara.

At first, it was little things. Liam would get upset if you left to hang out with the pogues instead of him. Then one day, he asked you to stop seeing them all together. You, of course, retaliated, telling him that you would never leave your friends. But Liam had a way with words, and not a good way. He told you for months that your friends would never love you and that you were lucky that he had even taken pity on you. Slowly, you started to believe him. You stopped seeing the pogues, pushing everyone who truly loved you out of your life.

Liam became more and more distant as the months went on. He would leave you almost every night to drink and party, not even bothering to let you know where he was headed. The two of you had been fighting nonstop for several weeks. It had gotten physical only a few times and the next morning he would apologize profusely, so you stayed.

Seeing him walk in with two girls wrapped around his waist, nearly two and a half hours late, was the last straw for you.

Grabbing your purse, you walked up to Liam, who's eyes widened with the realization the moment he saw you.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he says, slightly slurring his words as his arms still holding the two skinny blondes at his sides, “It's not what it looks like.” You can see his red-rimmed eyes and dilated pupils, telling you that he was coked out. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that this was it for you. “Really, Liam,” you snap back, “‘Cause it looks like we are done here.”

Liam’s eyes widen in shock, never having seen you lash out like this before. He shakes it off and his expression quickly contorts into one of disgust. “Okay,” he says with a shrug, “Good luck finding someone else to take pity on a whore like you, dirty pogue.” He walks away with the two girls, leaving you in shock.

It takes a moment for you to realize that you had just ended this almost one-year relationship. 

The first emotion you feel is one of freedom and relief. No more would you have to be held down by this weight of not being able to do and say what you want.

That feeling slowly dissipates as the feeling of dread starts to overcome it. You had pushed away all of your friends for this boy who had let you go like you were nothing to him. Maybe you were nothing.

You walk back to the bar area, grabbing another drink, feeling the need to drown away your sorrows.

And chances are

You're sittin' here in this bar

'Cause he ain't gonna treat you right

JJ Maybank hated kook parties with a passion.

Thankfully he hadn't had the opportunity to attend too many of them in his lifetime. But now that John B was macking on Sarah Cameron, it wasn't uncommon for the blonde boy to get dragged along to one of these events.

John B had left JJ to fend for himself as soon as they had arrived at the party, slipping off somewhere to find Sarah. JJ looked around the extravagant home that belonged to one of his enemies, Topper Thornton. His ring clad fingers fiddled with an expensive-looking vase, trying to find the perfect moment to snag it and slip away.

JJ’s eyes filtered through the crowd when they landed on something, or rather someone, that he had least expected to see.

His hand slipped from the vase, letting his gaze drink you in. You definitely looked different. Your once long hair was now cut just below your shoulders and your typical style of denim shorts and a cropped shirt was exchanged for a lavish-looking dress and sparkly stilettos.

JJ admits that he probably wouldn't have recognized you if he hadn't spent so many years unable to take his eyes off of you whenever the pogues were together.

The boy had loved his life long best friend since the day she clocked a boy in the face for making fun of JJ’s worn-out clothes. They were seven. In addition to being the day JJ had met (Y/N) and John B, it was also the day he fell in love with the (Y/E/C) eyed girl.

When you started dating your kook boyfriend at the beginning of your junior year, JJ was initially devastated. He soon brought himself to realize, however, that a lowlife like him would never be able to deserve someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as you. His thoughts were confirmed when you abruptly stopped hanging around the pogues and him. You were too good for him. The blonde boy had no idea of the pain that Liam had caused you in the past ten months.

Now looking at you, JJ could see that you were upset. He had gotten really good at analyzing your body language over the many years of being your best friend.

All thoughts of stealing the vase flew out of his mind as his feet started in your direction.

Well, it's probably not my place

But I'm gonna say it anyway

'Cause you look like

You haven't felt the fire

Had a little fun

Hadn't had a smile in a little while

You felt a figure move to sit in the bar stool chair next to you, but you choose to ignore whoever it is, not particularly feeling up to socializing with a contemptuous kook after what you just went through.

The figure didn't move after a few minutes so you turn to look at them with a glare in your eyes, ready to snap at them and ask them to leave you alone. Your gaze immediately softens as you realize the person next to you is in fact the last person you would ever expect to see at a party like this, JJ Maybank.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes as you continue to stare at the side profile of the blonde boy who hasn't yet turned to face you. 

Everything you had done so well to hide over the last ten years of knowing and loving him comes rushing back. Your love for the boy next to you consumes every fiber of your being. 

A lone tear falls down your cheek as you begin to curse yourself and Liam. How did I let him control me into giving this up? This feeling?

Blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

JJ finally turns his head to look at you and feels his entire resolve crumble. You were crying. The sight nearly breaks his heart in two.

His eyes lock with yours and he can see the pain and heartache swirling within them.

“What did he do to you,” JJ mutters, letting his eyes roam the crowd for the boy he despises most in the world. Almost a year of suppressed anger starts to bubble up to the surface.

“JJ,” you whimper.

The sadness and hopelessness in your voice makes every ounce of anger in him evaporate as he turns his head to look at you again. The look in your eyes tells him that the kook boy had hurt you worse than he ever knew.

JJ wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms and never let anything else in the world harm you. His hands itch to wipe the tears off your face and pull your head to his chest.

However, JJ also wants you to be as comfortable as possible and he's not sure if you're ready for the amount of love he has to give you just yet.

You surprise the blonde boy by reaching out to your arms out to him. The blonde wastes no time in standing up and pulling your body flush to his chest.

Everyone else in the world disappears as the two of you clutch each other with all you have. Both of you realize how much you had missed the comfort of each other's embrace. 

You're not sure how long you stand there like that, face nuzzled into JJ’s shoulder as the boy strokes your hair comfortingly.

“I'm sorry,” you mumble into his shirt, not willing to pull away from the warmth he radiates.

JJ’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as he pulls away enough to look down at you. “What do you mean,” he asks with a softness in his voice that is reserved for you only, gently lifting your chin so that you are looking into his beautiful cerulean eyes.

You sniffle. “I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for breaking down in front of you. I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess. But most of all, I'm sorry for ever believing that I could live without you. I-I mean if it weren't for you I don't know what I would do. I understand if you don't want to talk to-” your ramble is suddenly cut off by JJ pressing his lips to yours.

The boy knows that this is probably not the best time to confess his feelings towards you, but he can't watch you talk down about yourself like that anymore. Do you not know how much he adores you? 

The kiss is soft and passionate. JJ can taste your salty tears on his slightly chapped lips as they work against yours. Both of you poor every ounce of emotion you have into the kiss. 

JJ reluctantly pulls away when the two of you run out of air, placing his forehead delicately on yours as your arms wrap around his neck.

I'm tellin' you

You don't need that guy

It's so black and white

He's stealin' your thunder

Baby, blue ain't your color

Both of you pant as you look into each other's eyes. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” JJ says, as the smile you cherish so much graces his features.

“Really?” you ask and JJ can hear the vulnerability in your voice. What did that shithead do to you to make you so insecure?

“You have no idea, baby,” he says, tenderly kissing away the tear that has slipped out of your eye and onto your cheek.

Not having the words to express how you feel about the boy in front of you, you pull his head back down, kissing him so sweetly that it makes his knees buckle.

“JJ,” you whisper as you pull away, but you never get to finish your statement because you are suddenly ripped out of his embrace.

“You fucking whore,” Liam seethes at you taking a stride towards you and you instinctively take a step back. “You break up with me and two minutes later you've moved onto another guy. Slut.” His words cut you deep and you know by the tone of his voice that a punch to the gut or a slap to the face is coming. Liam raises his hand and you brace yourself for impact, but it never comes.

The sound of yelling fills your senses and you open your eyes to see JJ punching Liam in the face repeatedly. You are frozen as you watch the scene in front of you.

“JJ,” you hear John B yell, turning to look at him, ���You're gonna kill him.”

Your eyes widen in realization at his words and you take a step forward.

“JJ,” you call, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of everyone yelling around you. You clear your throat and try again, louder. “JJ.”

This time JJ stops mid punch, turning to look at you. Fear fills your body when you see that his wide, normally baby blue eyes are nearly black.

His gaze softens as he takes in your anxious look.

JJ steps away from the beat-up boy and you see a few of his friends pull Liam’s limp body away. You lock your eyes back to JJ’s and he takes a careful step towards you causing you to involuntarily flinch back slightly.

I'm not tryna

Be another just

Pick you up

Kinda guy

Tryna drink you up

Tryna take you home

He wants to cry out at the sight. Don't you know that he would rather die than ever hurt you? 

You do know this, and you're not afraid of the boy in the slightest, but the last five minutes have put you on edge.

Seeing the broken look in the blonde’s eyes, you take quick steps toward his body, wrapping him in your embrace. He melts into your arms, allowing his face to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

The crowd that had formed around the fight disperses, realizing the show is over.

“(Y/N).” The sound of your name being called pulls your attention away from the sweet boy in your arms.

You pull away from JJ slightly, still keeping an arm around his bicep.

Looking over, you see John B standing to the side with Sarah Cameron. You had heard about the two of them getting together and you suddenly realize why JJ happened to be at this party.

The sadness in John B’s eyes as he looks at you breaks your heart. The two of you have been like sister and brother your whole lives and, besides JJ, he was the hardest for you to stop talking to.

You feel JJ’s grip on you loosen, urging you to go to John. The two of you walk towards each other and John B pulls you into his arms. 

“I missed you, (Y/N/N),” he says unto your hair, “So much.”

You smile, tears softly rolling down your cheeks. “I missed you too, JB,” you say, pulling away to look at JJ who looks back with a sad smile on his face.

But I just don't understand

How another man

Can take your sun

And turn it ice cold

The four of you decided it was best to leave. John B dropped Sarah off at her house and drove the three of you back to the Chateau. Your stomach drops at the sight of the small shack.

JJ notices your facial expression, placing his hand softly on top of yours. “You okay?” he asks gently as John B parks the van.

You nod with a small smile and JJ helps you out of the van, holding your hand as he leads you to the porch. You stop walking, causing the two boys to turn around and look at you.

“I'm sorry,” you say, tears pooling in your eyes again. JJ gives you a knowing look. “(Y/N),” he says, almost sternly.

“No,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Let me talk.” JJ nods and John B looks at you expectantly. “I left you. Both of you. I- Liam, he just made me feel so useless and I didn't want to be a bother to you guys anymore.”

JJ lets out a sound, almost like a growl, and pulls you into a hug. “You are not useless, (Y/N),” he says seriously, “You are so important, to both of us, and we missed you so much.”

You nod into his chest as John B comes to wrap his arms around both of you.

The three of you group hug and you sigh contently, happy to be back with your boys.

Well, I've had enough to drink

And it's makin'

Me think that I just might

Tell you if I were a painter I wouldn't change ya

I'd just paint you bright

John B helps JJ set up the pull out while you change into a pair of John B’s sweats and JJ’s t-shirt. John B says goodnight and goes to “hit the hay” as he puts it, leaving you and JJ alone again.

“I'll sleep on the other couch and you can take the bed,” he says sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

The two of you settle into your “beds”, but you can't seem to fall asleep with so many thoughts running through your mind.

Everything that has happened since you left the pogues seems like one big sad blur. Your mind wanders to JJ. What does this mean for you two? 

“(Y/N),” the voice you love so much calls. You hum in response. “You ‘wake?” he asks. You sit up in the pullout shaking your head.

“Can't sleep,” you say, rubbing your eyes. 

JJ sits up as well. “M’sorry, baby,” the nickname makes your heart flutter.

You open your arms for the boy who looks at you warily. “Are you sure, (Y/N),” he asks. You nod quickly and he stands up, falling into the pullout and wrapping you into his arms. He tucks your head under his chin, pulling you closer.

“JJ,” you ask.

It's his turn to hum in response. “This may be weird for you, but I feel like I just have to say it,” you tell him. JJ pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. He's worried about what you are going to say but tries to hide it for your sake. “I love you, J.”

JJ smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his nose with yours in an Eskimo kiss. “I love you too,” he says sincerely, but you're afraid he doesn't understand what you mean.

“No, J,” you say, looking away from his eyes, “I love you. Like, I'm in love with you.”

The blonde boy only smiles bigger. He leans down pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, pulling away when you run out of air. JJ trails sweet kisses down your jaw and neck before placing one last kiss on your lips.

“I'm in love with you too (Y/N),” he says kissing your forehead. JJ wonders how he went so long without being able to kiss you and hold you. Even after only confessing a few hours ago, it feels so natural to have you in his arms. The thought of not having you makes his heart ache. 

“I have to ask you something, but you can say no and it won't change anything and I understand that this is hard because of everything that just happened,” JJ rambles. You kiss his jaw softly, urging him to continue. “Will you be mine. Ya know. Like my girlfriend, or whatever.”

You smile wide. “Of course I'll be yours, J.”

JJ copies your smile leaning down to press another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away, snuggling into you, and the both of you bask in the feeling of being in each other's arms. Your hand reaches up to play with JJ’s hair as your eyes start to droop.

“Love ya, pretty girl.”

“Love you too, J.”

'Cause blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

You are sitting down on a beach towel, watching the sun slowly fall into the ocean, lighting the sky with a beautiful rainbow of colors. Your feet are outstretched in front of you and your hands prop you up behind your back. The Outer Banks heat is making your skin warm, but you don't mind, letting the steadily depleting sun hit your skin.

You watch as JJ catches another wave, surfing it perfectly. You giggle as he raises his hand in a fist, clapping for him. 

It's been two weeks since you finally ended things with Liam. You were able to mend things with the rest of the pogues and Kiara and Pope welcomed you back with open arms. Things with JJ have been going amazing. The two of you agreed to take things slowly seeing as you were just getting out of a toxic relationship. It was different to finally be in a place with JJ where you weren't afraid to show him and tell him how you feel, but you loved it.

JJ runs towards you, gripping his board in one hand as the other pushes back his blonde locks.

When he gets to your towel, JJ throws down his board and plops down next to you, pulling you into a sweet hug.

You giggle. “You're all wet, J,” you say, not making any move to get out of his warm embrace. The boy peppers your face with soft kisses causing you to giggle even more.

A few minutes later you are seated in between JJ’s legs and he has his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

“I love you, J,” you say, still watching the sunset.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” JJ says kissing your neck. He begins humming the tune to a song you recognize. 

“Blue ain't your color, umm mm,” he sings, “No, no baby, come here baby, let me light up your world.”

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

[nightfrostshadow]

A Cage Of Moonlight And Magic

Ahhh guess what?! I collaborated with the wonderful @amethystpath-writes ! :D <3  It was so much fun to write this together ahaha it was a wonderful experience and especially the fact that the first collab I did was with you is amazing ! My first friend on Tumblr :’)  :D <3

This has a continuation - Part 2

***

“Listen to me carefully,” Supervillain held Villain’s chin, slid his hand so casually near his circus pet’s neck- his throat. “Those water and ice crystals are not yours at all. They are mine, you hear me? They are the audience’s. You exist only to provide entertainment, to provide glory. But you are neither of these things without your powers.” He stepped back, peering at his subject with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” Villain promised. “Someday when you least expect it, I will do it.” He’d said this before, many times- with many bouts of frustration, confidence, and determination.

Supervillain laughed. “With water?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being swept away by a current?” For once, Villain allowed a smile to curve upon his lips.  Something wicked enraptured his thoughts- more than just murder; it was torture. “When the water is so fast, so strong, that your head never breaks surface ever again. You drown.”

The hand near Villain’s throat faltered, but ultimately tightened. “Don’t forget who you are speaking to.” And that was the end of that.

***

“I think it’s fun,” Hero said, “when the little kids’ faces curve into shining smiles. And the adults, too. I wonder how many grandparents have made our show their last one. What an honour, isn’t it, Villain? That we may be the last magic someone sees?”

Villain who had been gloomily forming a little water tornado in his palm looked up at Hero. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, and the swirling water fell to the ground.

“Does it not bother you that we are nothing but tools to Supervillain?” Villain asked. “Meant to forever use our powers in such a pathetic way, to entertain people? Would you not rather be the one in power of your own life? To live free…free to do whatever we want with our powers instead of what Supervillain wants!” What a magnificent fantasy Villain let reel in his mind.

He shifted his body, knees dragging in the dirt- in his bed. “I’m reduced to having to put up waterwork shows. Waterworks can you believe it? Out of all the things I can do?”

A spritz of water in Hero’s direction. “And you.” He waited for Hero to meet his eyes. “With your stars and fireworks…you could do so much more. We could do so much more, Hero. Yet here we are, the famous opening act for Supervillain.”

Hero pondered over this as she thoughtfully looked down at her own hands, making little stars and sparkles erupt from her fingers, thus illuminating the surroundings. Such a great contrast to the darkening sky, she thought before answering Villain. “We bring light to the people watching, you know?” Literally, in Hero’s case.

“You could bring heat to them as well.” Villain was watching the little sparks in his co-worker’s hands as she’d spoken. Darkly, he thought, She could set the world ablaze if she wished. “Don’t you understand that we are animals to them? They think we are tamed.” He expected a response- anything besides Hero’s plain face. “That fact doesn’t bother you at all?” Villain’s voice pitched, incredulous.

Hero smiled slightly as she sent out a shower of sparkles raining down on them with a flick of her fingers and met Villain’s eyes as she spoke “I try not to think about it, you know? I just think of the good in every situation. It helps me be happy and peaceful. Besides, we’ve been here long enough; it’s not like we can leave so I just find the wonder in everything we do…it warms my heart to see the joy in people’s eyes as they watch us perform. You should try it, too, Villain.” She looked at him earnestly.

Villain stared at her in disbelief as he smiled bitterly,” There is nothing that can warm my heart here. Looking at the joy in peoples’ eyes as they don’t even care about us? Looking at them angers me even more. All they care about is watching the magic show in front of them. What has there been for us to celebrate in these past years?” Villain took a deep breath. “Nothing. I haven’t felt happiness in ages, Hero…and my heart?” He formed ice at the tips of his fingers as if to demonstrate- “It’s frozen.”

He sighed as he laid down on his bed- if you could even call it that. Once again he longed for the blanket he desperately needed, yet was never given on the cold winter nights.

***

“Up and at them, monsters.” Supervillain casted his light throughout the tent room, illuminating every square inch, every shadow hiding in every nook and cranny. He seemed to ignore his own monstrous ability.

Perhaps moonlight wasn’t such a devious subject to some, but to the magis, it was the cruellest of all magics- a searing light close to a large pane of lasers. The light hurt. And Supervillain was fond of using it every day, using it to wake his subjects up, to force them into the confines of a life hardly worth living. A circus like what they performed was better than the pain, but the pain was inescapable.

“We have a big show tonight. Some very esteemed guests will be making an appearance. You will all be expected to put on your best performance.”

As eyes creeped open, and quiet gasps and shouts of pain sounded around the dirt room, Supervillain’s lips curved into a bow. He did love the sounds and movements they made under his power- something incapable of being shown to an audience, per say, but something most definitely to be used behind closed curtains. He was thankful there was no expected sizzle to come from the burning skin of his subjects. The audience might hear that, and then what would his show be?

Villain rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees and collapsing in on himself to form a ball. The moonlight burned, as usual, but it was worse on this late night. He felt the light in all places, even those not accessible- hence the tight position he held himself in, a form of self-defence. Moonlight poured between his lips, filling his mouth in a pain that could only be expressed through blood-curdling screams.

Knowing Supervillain and his antics, Villain had the sense to guard the sounds he made in a self-made bubble. Should anyone outside this room hear his screams, they would become concerned; they might try to break into the performers’ room. Supervillain would do worse than let the moonlight flow inside Villain’s body, then.

“It feels like drowning, doesn’t it?” Supervillain asked, so suddenly knelt on the ground beside Villain’s bubble of muteness. “Do you regret your words from yesterday yet? Will you behave today?”

As experimental as Villain was with his powers, he never once tried to purposefully experience the feeling of drowning. Right now, though, he could imagine this burning inside his body must be what it felt like to breathe in water. He didn’t have gills despite many people’s beliefs. He knew the feeling of water shooting up one’s nose, of coughing and gagging on it with the ever-present idea of never breathing again. Water was scary, even he would admit.

It was in this moment that his bubble fell. Villain swallowed his screams, clenching every muscle in his body to prevent the sounds of continued pain. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, if only to stop Supervillain’s act of revenge. “Won’t- won’t threaten you again.” But, of course, he would. The fight, the defiance, was in his blood.

Esteemed guests, he said? Villain focused on his thoughts as the moonlight slowly escaped his body. I’ll be sure to give them a show, then.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Hero’s eyes to widen with surprise as she’d watched Supervillain slowly stride on over to Villain with a look of admiration in his eyes. Meanwhile, Villain had been writhing in what was undoubtedly pain. She could just barely hear his agonized screams through the water he trapped himself in. It was as if she had been listening to him beneath the water surface of a pool- goodness she missed those. Her jaw, which had apparently been opened, snapped shut in a desperate moment to withhold an empathetic cry.

Hero thought back on the conversation she shared with Villain earlier that morning- about how horrible this life was.

Yes. Yes, she could agree that certain aspects of it weren’t preferable, but…well, Villain did this to himself, didn’t he? He pushed and prodded- he poked the bear if you would. Albeit horrible, Villain’s treatment was somewhat deserved.

This didn’t mean that Hero didn’t find the treatment absolutely gut-wrenching. Sometimes she had nightmares about the same pain coursing throughout her own body. Fortunately, they were dreams and she only knew the pain existed within them because of her unconscious hollers.

Either way, Hero knew she could never exist in that amount of pain. She might very well pass out, and then what use would she be to the show? What use would she be to herself? Those bright, smiling faces in the audiences warmed her in a way her powers never could. They kept her going. They kept her alive.

So, she would withstand those slight waves of pain every day. She would endure because any alternative was too frightening, too dooming.

“Five minutes!” Supervillain announced, and with that, he stepped out, flaps of the tent room snapping shut behind him.

Not wasting a moment, Hero crawled over to Villain, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

His response was a glare. He shrugged her off. “Get ready,” he said simply. “We have a great show tonight and little time to prepare.”

What Hero didn’t see was the vengeance pooling in Villain’s stomach, much like the moonlight Supervillain had placed there just a minute ago.

***

Villain smirked as he stood in position with Hero, ready to open the show, waiting for the curtains to rise. In three, two…

The curtain rose and as the audience stared, no doubt waiting, excited to see what the show had in store for them, the cue was given and Hero prepared to do her part, hands twirling with both anticipation and preparation.

Watching Villain, she faltered, one hand clumsily colliding with the other…all because she noticed something unordinary. Villain was not performing with her, and he had a look in his eyes, a- a gleam which Hero had never seen before. This can’t be good. Not only did Villain have such a mischievous glimmer, but he had not moved from his initial position.

With eyes now closed, Villain summoned all the water he could. Opening them once again, he sent his arms forward- a fast motion which released wave upon wave, crashing into the audience.

He laughed darkly as he sprinkled a whirlpool here, a current there, and a water tornado- which served as an escape, a path of destruction that cleared the way of all the chairs, as well as the audience members themselves.

Just as Hero had faltered before, Villain did in that very moment- a familiar pain blossoming in his body. He gritted his teeth.

Supervillain had begun fighting him more quickly than expected. Clearly, the waves that had engulfed him, therefore knocking him over, and the shards of ice Villain had aimed towards his chest, hadn’t been enough.

But he couldn’t stop clearing the path- the only path that could ensure him life- ensure him freedom. His motivation to succeed tonight enraptured his every move…because if he failed…well…he didn’t want to think of the consequences.

The adrenaline which Villain possessed now helped him more easily bear the once excruciating pain. Now, it was only a dull throb, a throb that allowed Villain to continue concentrating on clearing the path of obstacles, for anyone in his way would regret it.

Villain’s body ached, having never spent so much energy on his powers. Especially not at the same time as Supervillain using his own powers so strongly against him.

Struggling to hold on as he started to feel the pain sharper than ever, Villain focused on the path- his salvation- ahead. Supervillain was no match for the determination manifesting in Villain’s veins.

***

Hero was lost in the literal sea of madness. A part of her was grateful to only feel the sprinkle of swirling water around her, yet another quaked at the sight before her- of the people she so graciously served being tossed like ragdolls.

What was worse: the sight of Villain captured in his cage of moonlight, or seeing the audience so helplessly being…being drowned? For once, she decided on the latter. Hero never imagined a day would pass that Supervillain’s power wasn’t the most terrifying thing in existence. Seeing what Villain did now, though? It was horrible- excruciating.

On another hand…Hero understood. Villain endured so much pain, so often, who else wouldn’t lose their mind- wouldn’t wreak havoc if it meant being free of the torture? Clearly, this life wasn’t meant for him. And he was stubborn enough that fighting for such freedom was all he’d ever know.

Seeing as Supervillain was just as strong-willed, he’d never stop torturing- never stop trying to break Villain. Making an escape was Villain’s greatest hope.

Who was Hero to try and stop him?

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – A Rescue Without a Plan

A/N – Finally back to this baby, and boy am I glad to be back.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Making your way in the world today, takes everything you've got. Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.” You sang the Cheers song quietly in your cell, concentrating heavily on the cell bars.

Ever since you had forced yourself to calm down, streams of information had come flooding across your optics, revealing structural strengths and weaknesses to everything you looked at. You hoped to find something about the electrified bars that might lead to your escape, but so far, all the weaknesses were ones you couldn’t exploit from within the cell. You had long since given up on desperately trying to contact the Lost Light, figuring that something was blocking your comms.

You sighed, giving up on your song, a childish idea coming to mind. You knew nothing would come of it, but a smile reached your lips as you stared at your hand, “Go-Go-Gadget, Lock Pick.”

Naturally, nothing happened, but at least you were entertained, so you continued the game, taking comfort in the familiar words. “Go-Go-Gadget, Gun. Go-Go-Gadget, Scanner. Go-Go-Gadget, Blow Torch-” You jumped back in shock as one of your fingertips split open at the command, a strong blue flame roaring up from the split. You didn’t know whether you should be praising Brainstorm, for this was most certainly his addition, or cursing him for the cartoonish way you had accessed the tool. You were almost afraid to wonder how many of your body’s other commands were linked to the phrase Go-Go-Gadget.

Without wasting any more time, you put the flame to the bars, beginning the laborious process of escaping your cell.

As you worked, you had one more idea which you hastily tried, “Go-Go-Gadget, Manual.”

Before your optics, a string of writing cropped up, instructions on how your Cybertronian body worked. “Play audio,” You said, having been introduced to the opening menu. Perceptor’s voice filled your audials, starting your tutorial on your new body. You vented air through your systems and got to work, studying during your attempted escape.

Once he had been released from his cell, Swerve spent all of his time at the Lost Light’s shooting range, his aim never improving despite his efforts. He knew he had little hope of becoming a soldier in the time it would take to get to you, but he didn’t care, so long as he had something to keep him occupied. How could other humans be so cruel as to throw you of all people in a battle arena? You were kind and compassionate, and you would never have even considered harming another species, claiming that all were equal.

Swerve had often found you crying over books wherein humans had treated others terribly, mostly among their own species. He remembered asking you why you chose to read such books as The Diary of Anne Frank or Boy Erased, if they only served to make you upset, and you had replied that they were important to read lest history be repeated from ignorance. It was awful to think that you, the most empathetic of souls, were going to be scrapped for the entertainment of others.

Swerve knew they didn’t have long to rescue you. If the Arena’s advertisements were to be believed, you would be entering one of their battles in less than three cycles, when the new contestants would arrive to scrap you.

Swerve couldn’t forget the picture they had uploaded of you on the advertisement. You had been harmed in ways he never wanted to see, deep gashes in your arms and visible dents everywhere, yet in the picture, you were defiantly angry. He alone could recognise the fear beneath, but he couldn’t be prouder to see that you weren’t giving your captor the satisfaction of your apprehension.

He reloaded his gun, aiming it at the target, imagining it was your captors. Despite his anger, he missed, hitting a spot on the wall at least six feet from the target. Coolant sprung to his optics. You were in danger and he was completely useless. He couldn’t pilot the ship, he couldn’t shoot, it wasn’t even him that had discovered your location; that had been Nightbeat while he was too busy feeling sorry for himself. He was useless.

Rodimus’ voice rang clear through Swerve’s comms. It was a channel he had left open until you were found; that way anyone who needed him could contact him.

“Swerve, get to the board room. We have news on (Y/N).”

Swerve brusquely wiped the coolant from his optics, throwing the gun on the table before leaving. As soon as he was in the hallway, he transformed, speeding to the board room, eager for any information he could get, yet also terrified about what it could mean for you.

He didn’t say anything as he entered, his attention, like everyone else’s drawn to the video-feed of the Arena, where a human woman in acid-green armour was speaking.

“Greetings to fans, peasants, and nobles alike. It is I, Lady Ouida, your adored host of the Arena.”

Lady Ouida. Swerve glared at her holographic form, now having a name and a face to put to his enemy.

“As all of us betting royals know, there is to be a new competitor here. The foul-mouthed mini menace has refused to state her name, but we don’t care about that. We only care about one thing and one thing only. Which of our noble competitors will be the one to take her out?”

Banners depicting different armoured competitors unfurled around Lady Ouida; the scumbags that would try to take your life.

“In this message to all of you, my lovely subjects, I would like to make a special announcement. Although we had planned to set the battle for three cycles time, we have hit a little snag.”

Warmth flared in Swerve’s spark, as he hoped that the battle would be delayed even further, giving the Lost Light more time for your rescue.

Lady Ouida snapped her fingers, motioning for someone off-screen to do her bidding. The hope that Swerve had dared to feel was quickly extinguished as several trucks with chain attachments drove forward, dragging you behind them, the chains affixed to your arms.

“Our little menace here was caught roaming the halls of our fair kingdom, trying to escape her fate. She may not look like much, but she has proved to be very resourceful indeed, which I am sure you’ll keep in mind when betting.”

It looked like you desperately wanted to retort, but a modified gag stopped you from doing so. It didn’t stop you from attempting to kick at several of your captors, your pede falling short of its mark.

“NO!” Swerve cried out as you were electrocuted, making you fall to the floor. The others in the room spared him looks of pity before their attention returned to Lady Ouida.

“Spirited, is she not?” The Lady continued, spurred on by your attempted attack. “Alas, that brings me to my next point. We cannot keep her subdued for long and as such, we will have to cut betting short. You will have till the end of the cycle, for at dawn THE BATTLE BEGINS.”

The feed ended with a screen of competitors and their odds against you.

Rodimus wasted no time in addressing the room, all traces of his usual playfulness gone. “ETA to the Arena?” He asked no one in particular.

“Two cycles at most,” One of the Co-pilots answered.

“Not good enough. If you have to burn out the engines, you’ll get us there tonight. Strategy?”

Megatron brought up a hologram for the planet, pointing out the building on the map, a modernised castle with plasma-turrets as its main defences. “If it were me, I’d have the turrets hacked. The fastest route to the Arena itself is by the West wall. The ship is far too big to hide, so our best option is an outright assault. We could blast through the walls with an Alpha team. Meanwhile, a smaller Beta Team could attack the Northern ramparts, where we believe the prison cells to be located, in case (Y/N) is still being held there.”

“Who’s our hacker for this?”

“We have an accomplished team that will be led by Skids.”

“What will we need to get through the castle’s walls?”

“Ultra Magnus assures me that he has a supply of confiscated weapons from Whirl and Brainstorm.”

Rodimus nodded in acknowledgement, “You know Megatron, it’s rare, but on occasions such as this, I’m glad that you’re a crazed war-lord with a lot of strategic experience.”

Megatron looked uncomfortable at the compliment but didn’t comment.

Swerve raised his hand in what he assumed was a military fashion, “I’d like to be in the Alpha team.”

Rodimus took in some air with an awkward hiss, “Yeahhh, about that. Don’t you think you’d be better off, uh waiting to comfort (Y/N) in the med-bay or something? You’re um- You’re not exactly a good shot.”

Swerve bristled at the veiled insult. “THAT IS MY CONJUNX ENDURAE. I’LL BE GOING DOWN THERE EVEN IF I HAVE TO STEAL A POD-SHIP!”

“Okay, yep, cool. You’re there to rescue (Y/N), got it. Just… Maybe stay behind the rest of us, okay? Wait no. You go in front, I don’t want to be shot in the back or anything-” Rodimus stopped talking when he noticed more than one bot glaring at him for his lack of tact. “I mean, uh- You just go where you think is best, buddy. You got this.”

“Let’s just continue going over the plan,” Megatron interrupted, turning his attention back to the planetary holograph.

Thankfully, nobody questioned Swerve further, and he was free to remain undisturbed as the meeting went on.

Once again, you were behind bars but this time you were outside of the prison block. You were now in the centre of the Arena, which greatly resembled the Ancient Colosseums of Earth. You cradled your servo close to your body, the pain immense where your captors had crushed it after they had caught you trying to use the blow torch a second time; if there was any hope of returning to Swerve, it wouldn’t be the same way you escaped before.

With nothing else to do, you resumed listening to the recorded manual. Theoretically, you knew how to scan a vehicle and transform, so long as you found something to scan. Maybe you could convince Ouida to show you a vehicle in order to make the games more interesting. You doubted that plan would work, but if Ouida thought you were going to die in her games anyway, she might grant the request.

“In the event that you are in danger and need to record a message into your processor for an ally to discover-”

You focused on Perceptor’s instructions. Now seemed like the perfect time to record a message for Swerve, should he ever find your body. You tried to focus as your processor informed you that your voice and surroundings were being recorded.

“Swerve, I wish I could see you right now to tell you everything that’s on my mind, but if you’re watching this… Well, we know what’s happened.” You tried to keep your tone happy, but it proved to be impossible when thinking of the last time you had seen Swerve and how badly that had gone. You couldn’t stop from crying as you continued.

“Swerve, you are my whole world. I love you so much and I’m so sorry about how I acted. I was scared and confused, and… That’s no reason for the way I was. I’m terrified of what might happen to you if I die. Please, don’t think sadly on this. You have so much time left in the universe, and it’s a brighter place with you in it. No matter what happens, I need you to remember, I’m sticking with you. Never forget that you have my heart, always. I’m sorry that this is goodbye. I love you.”

Ending the feed, you hugged your knees to your chassis with your good hand, while you sat in silence and wept.

Swerve gripped the base of his chair, in the cruiser that the Alpha team had taken, hard enough to dent it. Upon reaching a close enough proximity to the planet’s surface, he had received a few dozen delayed private comms from you, the last of which was time-stamped only one hour prior. You were being kept in a cage, telling him how sorry you were and how much you loved him. If you were sticking with him, then he was going to stick right back to you.

Turbulence hit the ship, but Swerve’s determination didn’t waver. He knew it was just the first volley of attacks from the turrets, until Skids’ team would be able to disable them. Swerve remembered feeling like this thousands of times in the war. The feeling that you could be shot down at any moment on the way to your goal, but that you couldn’t think about death, lest it leech into your processor, freezing out all other thoughts. Swerve wouldn’t die. He couldn’t. Not while you were in danger. You were his mission and this was just another, smaller, war.

Swerve remembered his very first mission. His entire squadron had died, except for him. Being a mini-bot, he’d managed to hide without being discovered; he’d spent centuries hating himself for living as a coward instead of dying a hero with the rest of his squad. As it turned out, many bots had had similar experiences which haunted them. This time, he would not hide, his team would survive, they would rescue you, and Swerve would tell you every minute of every day that he loved you.

“SKIDS,” Rodimus yelled over the comms, “A LITTLE HELP WITH THE FRAGGING TURRETS.”

“Working on it,” Skids replied frantically. “They have one hell of an IT team there, Rodimus. The turrets are encrypted at least five times over.”

“Great. I’ll pass on the compliment when I meet them. Can you stop the turrets or not?”

There was a sharp silence on Skids end which was answer enough; the team would have to go in under fire.

“Okay,” Rodimus looked to his team. Ultra Magnus, Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Swerve were there, along with a few other volunteers that made their number twenty. “Plan B. We drive fast and furious, ploughing through their defences.”

The team were less enthusiastic at the thought of being shot, but none of them buckled under pressure; everyone was ready to go to your aid.

“Beta team, in position?” Rodimus asked, as they had planned to do before the Alpha Team dropped down onto the planet’s surface.

“Negative,” Megatron replied. His team comprised of Drift, Nautica, Nightbeat, and Brainstorm. It was decided that a smaller team would be better for infiltration. “The blueprints were wrong. We landed right in their armoury and are facing heavy fire.”

“HEY, NO, NOT COOL. WE WERE FACING HEAVY FIRE FIRST.” Rodimus pouted. “THAT’S OUR THING. GET YOUR OWN THING.”

“Don’t be a sparkling,” Megatron hissed. “Rendezvous here. We need backup.”

Swerve crushed another part of his chair. Meeting up with the beta team would lead them further away from you. They should face the turrets, consequences be damned. Swerve imagined reaching over to the control panel and forcing the team to drop. If he wasn’t afraid to have their energon on his servos, he’d do it. However, frustrating as it was, he left the planning up to the Co-Captains, itching for the moment that he would finally be useful. So far, everything in the plan was falling apart.

“Get ready to fight, crew,” Rodimus warned as the cruiser approached the Beta Teams location. Everyone stood up, heading to the back of the ship, “Dropping in three, two, one.”

The doors opened, leaving all the transformed vehicles to drive out on the ramp, jumping the gap onto the planet. There, the battle began. A handful of Cybertronians against a few hundred organics, none of whom seemed to be human; perhaps Lady Ouida was the only human among the organics that inhabited the planet.

Swerve raged with every shot he took. In hallways full to the brim of enemies, even he couldn’t miss. His blaster kept ringing off with compliments. Good job. Nice shootin’ Tex. You’re my hero.

However, as many shots as he got in, the enemies didn’t drop. It seemed that they were immune to most of the weapons, only stumbling slightly before they got back up to fight.

“This isn’t working,” Cyclonus growled through gritted teeth, him and Drift being the only ones to do any real damage with their swords, though they kept getting pushed back by the horde.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rodimus said sardonically. “Time for plan C.”

“We don’t have a plan C,” Ultra Magnus reported.

“Then improvise.”

From the corner of his optic, Swerve saw a flash of green and he spun around to see Lady Ouida herself. She was climbing over the rubble, apparently trying to reach the fast-firing ballista behind the invaders of her castle. Full of rage at the human who had dared to harm his Conjunx Endurae, Swerve rushed at her, screaming. He tackled her to the ground, grunting as she stabbed a plasma dagger into his side. He would worry about the pain later, when you were safe. For now, he didn’t care, as that was the only weapon she had and she couldn’t retrieve it from his side now that he had her arms firmly in his grasp.

Swerve had always prided himself on being gentle with you, his beloved human. However, with Ouida in his grip, he was all too aware of how easy it would be to crush every bone in her body with only the slightest bit of pressure.

“WHERE IS MY CONJUNX?” He spat at her.

“Dead.” Lady Ouida lied. “As you will be soon enough, robotic scum.”

Swerve didn’t bother to press her on her deception, knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t talk, no matter what he did. Instead, he carried her towards her army, making sure the creatures could see her.

“I HAVE YOUR LEADER,” He roared at them. “LET US PASS, OR I’LL CRUSH HER.”

The organics stopped shooting, eerily expressionless as they lowered their weapons. Ouida shot her captors a disgusted look, hating that they had bested her experimental mutants. They were made to follow orders and protect the castle, but they had also been designed to ensure that she wouldn’t be harmed; with her as a captive, they were useless.

Swerve made his way forward, but Rodimus grabbed his shoulder-plate, pulling him back.

“Hey, loving the energy buddy,” Rodimus complimented Swerve. “Great improv and all, but uh, the Arena is the other way.”

“Oh,” Swerve looked at the mutant army, who were watching Ouida like a dog watching its master. “In that case, don’t follow us, or I’ll crush her.”

“YEAH,” Rodimus fist-pumped the air. “LET’S GO RESCUE (Y/N).”

You didn’t know what to say as you were faced with the many faces of the Lost Light that you thought you’d never see again, but most importantly Swerve. For a moment, you were half-convinced that you were hallucinating again, but then he had pushed Lady Ouida into Drift’s arms and he was holding you.

He kissed your helm, pulling you into his chassis, checking over every inch of you for injuries. “(Y/N),” he murmured. “My (Y/N).”

“Swerve,” You cried his name. “Swerve. I was so scared I’d never see you-”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here now. I love you. Always,” He repeated your message to you, letting you alone know that he had received it.

“Not to interrupt this reunion,” Megatron said sombrely, “But enemy reinforcements could arrive at any moment, and we need to get you two to medical treatment immediately.”

For the first time, you noticed the gash in Swerve’s side, coated with freshly congealed energon; he had taken the dagger out prior to seeing you.

“She hurt you… She-”

It was your turn to scream at Ouida, “YOU HURT MY CONJUNX ENDURAE.”

You reached out to crush her with your good arm, but Drift dragged Ouida into safety, “Sorry (Y/N), but she’s our ticket out of here. If we kill her, we have no leverage.”

You glared at Ouida, “You’re lucky he values all life, you hateful witch.”

Ouida rolled her eyes, unperturbed by the raving antics of a non-organic.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Swerve ushered you ahead of the group. “It’s time for us to go home.”

Home. You thought of your hab-suite aboard the Lost Light where you had built your life with Swerve; you couldn’t wait to get back to it. Letting Swerve cradle you in his arms, you leaned on him and took your first steps back towards home.

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[erzaguin]

The Blight Chronicles: Odalia and Alador Chapter 2: How it Started

Every day started the same. "Get up, Alador, we're going to be late for school. Take a quick shower while I get us some food" ordered Odalia as she picked up clothes that were on the floor. 

"Is it necessary? I showered yesterday so it should be ok." muttered Aldor as he got out of bed. He didn't understand why everything had to be so clean all the time. As far as he could tell it was a waste of time. 

"I've told you if you want to make good business connections you have to make a good impression. We're not just trying to sell your inventions, we are also trying to sell people on you." 

"Ok… but what does that have to do with my room?" he asked while rummaging through some drawers for clean clothes. "You're the only person that sees it." 

She knew he was just stating facts but something about the thought that she was the only other person that would get to be in his room made her heart quiver. 

"It's filthy here, it's easier to find things if it's all in its place." She replied matter of factly and as if to prove her point Alador could not find any clothes in his drawers. They were filled with random notes and tools. 

Odalia handed him some clean clothes from a basket of laundry she had done the day before while giving him a smirk. Without any form of expression on his face he took the clothes from her and headed to the bathroom. 

“Make sure to be quick we’re already behind schedule” she said as she headed out the room.

“Ok” mumbled Alador.

This is the way things had been since that day at the market. After making eye contact with him Odalia got a strange look in her eyes and started following him around. She kept trying to make conversation with him but he was so unsettled by the situation that he just stayed quiet in hopes that she would leave. Most people did but not her. After a while she just stepped in line with him and walked around the market with him in silence. 

He could feel her watching him as they walked and he wasn’t sure how to react. He was not used to being around people like this. When he took a glance at her he saw that she really was staring at him. Those piercing blue eyes made him feel very exposed but he didn’t know how to deal with it. So he decided to just get the materials he needed as fast as possible and leave. 

He headed to his usual stand where he was greeted by the shopkeeper.

“Hey, why if it isn't my favorite customer?! Oh and you brought a lady friend with you?” bellowed the large man while giving Alador a wink. "What can I do for you?"

Without responding Alador grabbed the items he needed and showed them to the shop keeper so he could give him a price. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible and go home. 

“I see you’re still not much of a talker ey? Let’s see that there will be 250 snails.” he said as he started putting the items in a bag. 

That was a lot of snails. He pulled out his wallet and started counting. He barely had enough but this would mean he would be out of money. He would have to hold off on buying groceries until his next allowance the following month. As he was lost in thought still looking at his wallet his companion stepped forward. 

“Wow if this is how you treat your favorite customer I would hate to see how you treat your least favorite.” chimed the green haired girl whose piercing sapphire eyes were now set on the shopkeeper. 

Alador almost felt sorry for the man who seemed to have shrunk under the gaze of this school girl. Having been the target of her gaze though he felt a sense of relief that she wasn’t looking at him like that. Although she had a smile on her face there was a storm behind her eyes. Even her presence had changed, it was terrifying. At that moment Alador was sure of one thing; he was happy that she was on his side. 

“Now I might be confused but going by the chart you have there the total should be no more than 50 snails.” she jeered still keeping the same expression on her face. “What sign?” thought Alador to himself. 

The shopkeep started huffing trying to produce words but it just came out as babbles. Alador was not sure if it was due to him being called out or the intensity of the girls gaze but he was having a hard time staying composed. 

*Cough* *cough* “Ah yes you are right little lady I uh you see it’s been a long day. Yeah that's it a long day and I’m not as young as I used to be. My mind is not as sharp as you youngsters.” 

At the sight of the girl’s smile widening the shopkeeps face went pale. “You know what you’re right! Al my boy take whatever you need free of charge for my favorite customer.” stuttered the shopkeep who was already sweating through his clothes. 

“That’s very generous of you” said the green haired girl.  “You heard him Alador take anything you think you might need and make sure to take extras just in case.” she said while looking directly at him and giving him a genuine smile. 

Alador felt a small jolt when she turned to look at him with that sweet smile. But he quickly recovered and did as she said. He took everything he thought he would need, some spares and a couple of things he thought he would never be able to afford.

“Is that all you needed?” she asked him still with that same smile on her face. He nodded in response. “Good, can we have some bags for these?” she said looking back at the shopkeep with those sharp eyes. The man visibly jumped and hurriedly started packing all the things Alador had picked out. “Oh well take one of those too” she said pointing at what looked like a case. 

“But that?” started the shopkeep before going completely pale once he met eyes with the girl again. “I mean yes, little miss of course. Here you go kids.”

He handed the bags to them along with the case. Alador could see it now. It was a brand new tool set. He wanted to open it and examine the tools right here and now but suddenly felt the sensation of being pulled. 

“Come on I’ll help you carry these home” said the green haired girl who was now pulling on his sleeve. 

“Ok” muttered Alador. He grabbed a couple of bags on one hand and the tool set with the other. The girl followed suit. “Thank you again mister, it was a pleasure doing business with you.” she said before giving the man a wink and following after Alador. 

Alador could have sworn that he heard the man crying as he walked away but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get home to go over his new inventory. His thoughts were again interrupted by the girl walking next to him.

“We need to find you some glasses, that nearsightedness of yours could have cost you a fortune today.  Who knows how much money that old snake has taken from you.” she said as she started mumbling plans for getting him glasses. 

“Thank you” he said in a tone devoid of emotion. Even Though he was thankful it was hard for him to express emotions. 

“Don’t mention it. Think about it like a business investment.” she stated matter of factly. 

“Business investment?” questioned Alador. 

“Yes you and I are going to go into business together. I will handle the money and talking to people while you will handle production.” 

Alador only took a moment to think about it before agreeing. After today it did not take much effort to realize how beneficial this partnership would be for him. He just simply nodded in agreement. 

“A man of few words, I can respect that. With you and me working together the boiling isles won't know what hit them.” she said with a hint of glee in her eyes. 

“What’s your name?”  he asked in his usual dry tone. He almost felt bad for not knowing it even after she went out of her way to help him. 

“My name? Oh yes how rude of me. My name is Odalia.” she said, giving him the same sweet smile that made his chest feel funny. 

 Once they arrived at his house she came in to drop off the bags she was carrying. Instantly she was assaulted by the smell of staleness and dirt. She took in her surroundings and noticed that almost everything had a layer of dirt on it. It was almost impossible to tell that someone lived here except for the one chair and the one clean spot on the table. 

“Alador do you leave alone?” she questioned looking directly at him. 

“It's just me and my father but his work keeps him away most of the time so it’s just me.” he said completely undisturbed while he made his way through the times in the first bag. 

Odalia would have never guessed that this was how he lived. He always seems so undisturbed by everything but this is no way to live. He can’t be ok with this. Ok Odalia you have to protect your new investment. 

“Alador, could you show me where you keep your cleaning supplies?” she said as she rolled up her sleeves. 

Alador simply pointed to a small closet before remembering the case of tools. As Odalia checked what materials she would be working with, Alador grabbed the tool case. 

"Not so fast, first we clean then you get to play with your new toys." She said, pulling the case away from him. At that moment Alador started to regret his decision. "Don't pout if we work together we'll be done twice as fast. Plus once we're done I'll cook us some dinner ok?" 

Alador looked longingly at the case before looking at Odalia and nodding. "Good, what do you feel like eating tonight? She asked as she handed him a rag.