#will this clan war ever end? my gut says no but let's see | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rocorambles · 4 years ago

Text

Reciprocate

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Mafia AU, Kidnapping, Rape/Non-Con, Forced Impregnation, Objectification, Degradation, Humiliation

Summary: You should have known better than to think you could ever truly escape from him, especially when you carry something he treasures so dearly inside of you.

You reminisce on the early days when you had met the beautiful dark-haired man, when you had been swept off your feet by striking blue eyes and a serene composure.

Akaashi had never been just normal to you and you remember how he had made your head spin with the air of mystery he carried around him, how your heart whipped back and forth between the always surprising mixture of sharp blunt words and eloquent poetry he entrapped you with. He was a man full of surprises, truly multi-faceted and you remember watching in awe at how quickly he could go from easily and agilely maneuvering his toned athletic body in the gym to lazily reading classic literature with a hand posessively but gently wrapped around your waist as you curled up besides him on the couch.

There are many words you could have used to describe Akaashi. But dangerous? Dangerous was not one of them.

Funny how quickly things can change.

Even as careful as Akaashi is, even he can’t foresee unexpected circumstances, especially when you are more entangled in the webs of his life than he ever meant for you to be. And he is forced to reveal who he truly is to you or kill you when you get caught up in things and with people who shouldn’t have ever even known you existed.

You wouldn’t be the first woman he’s killed and his mind flickers to numerous dead bodies, corpses of prostitutes and other unfortunate women strewn about when things became too complicated, when they threatened his position and the safety of his clan. But he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger, can’t even bring himself to think about aiming at you.

You’re not like the other fleeting distractions and for the first time ever, Akaashi Keiji breaks Fukurodani policies by revealing everything to you in the hopes that you’ll accept him as everything he is, that you’ll join him for the long run.

Blue eyes storm over when you don’t look at him with the love and acceptance he expected of you, only fear and disappointment apparent in your eyes, and his hands instinctively clench into fists when you flinch away from him, scrambling to create space between the two of you when he reaches out to reassure you that underneath the terrifying family name and insignia, he’s still just him.

Fine. You’re scared? He’ll give you something to actually be scared of.

His fingers dig deeper than necessary as they roughly drag and shove you, movements harsh and rough enough to make a very clear point, but never enough to permanently mark you. He likes his possessions as pristine as possible after all. And he smiles at how quick you are to go limp in his arms, obediently letting yourself be led when Akaashi’s silky voice patronizingly tells you what a shame it would be for your beautiful body to be decorated with bullet holes.

You know who Boktuo Koutarou is, even if you’ve never physically met him. Everyone in your city knows who he is, his name whispered and murmured in the streets, tales of his erratic temperament and ruthless wildness spread far and wide. The Fukurodani clan has always been a powerhouse in the underground world, has always controlled your city with an iron fist, and Bokuto, even by Fukurodani standards, has more than risen to the challenge of continuing his family’s undeniable reign, garnering respect and fear even among the monsters that share his insignia. So even though you’ve never met him, you know exactly who you’re shoved to your knees in front of, who Akaashi reverently speaks to and asks for permission from to keep you at the base as his pet, and you don’t dare open your mouth or raise your head, absolute terror paralyzing you.

Gold eyes peer at you in interest. Whores aren’t uncommon in the base, lewd moans and slick sounds sometimes making the base seem more like a brothel than the home of illicit dangerous business and Bokuto has always encouraged and rewarded his men with the best cunts money can buy especially after particularly successful or tiresome raids. But for as long as he’s known Akaashi, he can count the number of times the younger man has partaken in those base pleasures on just his fingers and even then, they’ve always been one night stands, brief flings. So he’s surprised, to say the least, when the dark haired man asks to keep you around as his little toy and he has a gut feeling that you’ll become a permanent extension of the family, but how can he deny the man who’s resolutely stayed by his side all these years, who’s pledged his life and loyalty to him? Akaashi asks for so little and if all he wants is for Bokuto to provide protection and surveillance for one more body to be happy, then so be it.

You’re no stranger to sharing a bed with Akaashi, but this is different. You had always thought that he had been holding back with you, swearing that you saw a hint of something darker gleaming behind blue orbs only for it to dissolve away as you were swept away by sensual languid pleasure and gentle, attentive words. And you hate that you were right, voice going hoarse as you scream at the top of your lungs as you’re ruthlessly taken over and over again, a coldness in the eyes you had once loved that pierces deep within you, animalistic possessiveness in the way he marks you, long slender fingers leaving bruises in their wake as he holds your writhing body in place as he thrusts in and out of your abused lower lips.

Day in, day out. All you know is a fitful sumber that exhaustion forces you into and Akaashi. His scent, his touch, his voice. You’re drowning in his essence. Dying. No. That would be preferable. At least there would be an end. And you silently grieve, unable to even cry real tears anymore when you wonder when this will ever end, if this will ever end.

As much as Akaashi would love to permanently lay beside you, duty and appearances do call from time to time and he reclines across from Bokuto, watching the black and white haired man boisterously chat with Kuroo Tetsurou, the current head of Nekoma as scantily clad women surround the two men, dragging fingernails down their chests and shamelessly shoving their breasts into their faces in the hopes of gaining their favor. They sure do seem to be enjoying themselves and Akaashi grimaces when one of the prostitutes begins to loudly moan as she grinds against his leader’s swelling erection which doesn’t go unnoticed by sharp eyes.

“Akaashi, don’t be so uptight. Why don’t I send some of them to your room tonight to help you loosen up?”

Bokuto knowingly smiles in amusement when he’s promptly rejected.

“Ah, that’s right. You still have your cute pet. But you know Akaashi, pets are temporary. Don’t you think it’s time to make it a little more permanent? Maybe put a ring on it? Hell, I love kids. I wouldn’t mind having a few runts running around the base, especially if they’re yours.”

Their conversation is interrupted by a rude scoff and Bokuto snarls at Kuroo’s taunting words.

“Because God knows Bokuto isn’t having kids anytime soon. No woman could stand bearing his kids and listening to his loudmouth for the rest of her life.”

Akaashi tunes out their bickering as the gears in his mind churn.

He had kept you on your birth control pills, not wanting to disturb his time with you as he broke you in and figured out exactly what his plan for you is. He knows he loves you, knows there’s no life for him without you. But he wasn’t a dreamer. He’s fully aware just how dangerous his life is, how impossible it is for the both of you to be able to grow old together, how much more likely it’ll be that both of you end up dead side by side in a turf war gone wrong. Yet now all he can think of is what you’d be like as a mother, how you’d look pregnant with his children and when your pills run low, he tears your prescription to shreds in front of your eyes.

You have more fight left in you than he thought you would and he’s enraged by how much you despise the thought of carrying his children, every desperate plea for him to not cum inside of you while you’re unprotected, a direct insult to him and his love for you. All he sees is red as he breeds you over and over again, stuffing you full of his cock and his seed, never stopping until you’re filled to the brim with the sticky proof of his adoration, stomach heavy and sloshing with his declared affection.

Turbulent emotions ransack you and you wish you could blame it solely on the hormones raging throughout your impregnated body, but you know it’s deeper than that. It had been so easy to become numb to being used, being known as nothing more than Akaashi’s pretty pet, being the victim of a cold, ruthless stranger you realize now that you never really knew. But it’s agonizing to once again see the hints of the man you had fallen in love with and your heart aches at how gentle and considerate Akaashi is to you once more as your belly begins to swell, a comforting hand rubbing your back and holding your hair away from your face as morning sickness has you heaving over the toilet bowl. And you feel something break and shatter into a million pieces inside of you when one night, as your due date quickly approaches, he kneels in front of you, slipping the engagement ring of your dreams onto your trembling hand.

“I know this isn’t how you dreamed of any of this happening, but I promise you, once the child is born, I’m going to give you the wedding you always wanted and do my best to be the husband and father you deserve and want. I love you.”

You sob, tightly returning Akaashi’s embrace, burying your face in his chest, wishing with all your heart that things could have been different, that you could go back to those early days, that everything in between was a dream, a nightmare.

But this is reality and as you cradle your baby bump, you know that you need to do something, anything, now that it’s not just your life on the line anymore.

For the first time in a long time, it seems like fortune is finally on your side as Akaashi relinquishes his leash on you, trusting that your growing bump will permanently tie you to him, that you won’t even think of trying to escape in your current state. And you play your role perfectly, smiling and leaning into his careful touches, accepting the gifts and attention he lavishes you with, looking to all the world like an excited expecting mother perfectly matched with her doting fiance.

Akaashi resumes taking up longer projects and jobs, no longer seeing a need to keep as careful of a watch over you or a need to remind you of your place besides him every night. And seeing one of their higher-ups relax makes everyone else careless, no one paying you much attention, no more armed men outside your door and windows when Akaashi is away.

Really, it’s embarrassingly easy for you to escape, so easy that you wonder if this is a trap, almost expecting Akaashi to appear from around every corner and drag you back to the prison he had created for you, and you shudder when you can almost feel his hands against your skin, his voice murmuring cruel cutting words into your ear.

But no one stops you and you slowly, but steadily make the long journey to Inarizaki territory, discreetly settling in and making a new home for yourself, starting a new life. Inarizaki and Fukurodani have never dealt much with each other, their territories so far apart that it’s pointless to clash or ally with each other when there are so many other enemies and friends closer to both their homes to deal with. You pray that it’s enough to hide you, to allow you to leave your wretched past behind.

It seems like your prayers are answered as month after month passes, as your belly grows and grows, as you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. You can barely remember a life outside of motherhood, your heart overwhelmingly full of love and happiness as you watch your daughter grow. And as you watch her take her first few wobbly steps as her first birthday passes, you let yourself finally believe that you can really move on and look forward, locking the blue-eyed demon of your past behind you once and for all.

Except that demon doesn’t want to be locked up, that demon is far too strong and cunning for your flimsy padlock, and you clutch your daughter to your chest when your door slams open one night and your apartment is swarmed by men with the Fukurodani insignia, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes when one last final figure makes their way past your threshold and you stare into familiar blue eyes.

As if your daughter can sense your anxiety, your fear, your hopelessness, she begins to loudly wail and bawl, wrapping her little arms around your neck and drenching your neck and shirt with her tears and snot, reminding you just how much is at stake right now.

You do your best to fake some semblance of calmness, drawing on your maternal instincts to still the quivering of your voice as you gently whisper soothing words in her ear, telling her everything will be fine, telling her that these are just mommy’s old friends, all the while watching your ex-lover gracefully make his way towards the two of you, subtly shielding her little body with yours as he approaches.

Realistically you know there’s not much you can do if he does mean harm to her, but you’d gladly die defending her to the best of your abilities if it came down to it, already ready to beg for her to be spared and for just you to be punished for your transgressions and your betrayal. You finch when you feel his weight settle besides you on the bed as he sits on the edge of the mattress, heart pounding as you feel his familiar presence, and you quickly turn to face him, only to be completely stunned by the softness in his eyes as he gazes at your daughter.

Relief floods through you and you hesitantly shift, allowing him easier access to see her, something bittersweet trickling inside of you as long slender fingers gently reach out to caress tear-stained cheeks, as your daughter’s sobs die down and curious eyes peer at the stranger who’s touching her. And deep inside you know Akaashi won’t harm her, will fiercely love her, as he tugs her out of your arms and pulls her into his lap, a sad smile pulling on your lips as you watch father and daughter reunite.

Deep inside you also know that you won’t be as lucky and your fears are confirmed when Akaashi stands, still cradling your giggling daughter in his arms, blue eyes pinning you down with a look you recognize all too well. There’ll be hell to pay for your actions.

You feel nauseous, body already aching and throbbing in anticipation of your punishment. But you plaster on a smile for your daughter as she happily plays with one of her favorite toys in the backseat of the car between Akaashi and you, peppering her tiny face with kisses as Akaashi and you tuck her into the gorgeous nursery he’s prepared for her, and wishing her good night as Akaashi leads you back out, continuously waving until the nursery door is firmly closed. And only then does your act drop and you sob as a hand harshly grips your wrist, tears only flooding down more as you recognize the hallway you’re being dragged down, body shaking when you’re shoved into a room and a bed you had tried so hard to forget.

Clothes are being torn from your body and you thrash around as lips descend upon you, a mouth hungrily molding with yours, yelping when teeth harshly bite on your lower lip before pulling apart. You feel so exposed, so helpless, so vulnerable as icy blue eyes glare down at you, Akaashi’s body pinning you in place as he takes in your figure, scrutinizing every line and curve of your body, mapping every familiarity and difference from the last time he’s seen you. But you lay still, wincing when his grip on your wrist becomes bone crushing when you try to instinctively cover yourself from him.

“I trusted you. I love you. And this is how you repay me? Running away from me? Keeping my daughter away from me?”

You open your mouth to stutter out some feeble excuse, but gasp when a hand wraps around your neck, warningly tightening before relaxing. The weight of his palm still against your throat keeps you silent.

“There’s no excuse for what you did. But I promised you that I’d be a good husband, so I’ll forgive you if you show me how sorry you are.”

You nervously watch as he completely lets go of you, eyes trailing after him as he settles his back against the headboard of the bed, beckoning you over to him with a single finger. And you can’t help but feel like foolish prey walking into a trap as you obey, body quivering in fear as he pulls you in and positions you so that your legs straddle his thighs, back arching and a cry slipping past your lips as he teasingly captures one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks.

“Still so sensitive.”

You hate how well he’s trained your body, how easily your body betrays you even after being separated from him for over a year, how well he knows every inch of you inside and out and shame and humiliation lance through you when a long digit easily slides into your already dripping heat.

“I think you’re more than ready, darling.”

Even past your wanton moans, the clanging metal of his belt unbuckling echoes throughout the room and you whimper as something hard presses against your entrance.

“Come on, love. It’s time for you to apologize. Do you know how much effort and time I spent searching for you?”

You yelp as the hands resting on your waist dig into your flesh before relaxing and rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

“But it’s okay because you’re here now, you and our daughter are here now, and neither of you are ever leaving me again. Right?”

You vigorously nod your head as blue eyes sharply stare at you, relaxing when they soften and a small smile plays on his lips.

“Good girl. Now prove it to me.”

You almost wish Akaashi had just forced himself upon you, finding it so much more demeaning to sink down on his cock all by yourself as he impassively sits back and watches you. But you’re sure that’s the whole point of this, for you to show your submission and acceptance through your actions. After all, nothing he ever does is meaningless.

And you truly do feel broken, like nothing more than a good wife, a good pet as you wildly shake your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock in a way that makes your breasts jiggle, pussy clenching even tighter and gushing even more when he orders you to look him in the eyes all the while.

“You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. You were made for my cock, made for me. Tell me who you belong to.”

In hindsight you’ll be embarrassed by how quick you are to babble his name over and over again in response. But here and now? All you can think about is the warmth in your chest as he praises you, the warmth in your belly as something pleasant and overwhelming builds inside of you. And Akaashi groans at how tightly you squeeze around him as your peak nears, almost cumming from just the hazed over arousal in your lust-filled eyes, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss and swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you reach your high, body convulsing and twitching in his arms as he holds you steady, lips still locked with yours as he thrusts up a few more times before finding his own release and spilling deep inside of you.

You slump onto him, exhausted body collapsing and still twitching from the onslaught of pleasure. But as the fog from your mind begins to ebb away, you involuntarily tense at the whispered “I love you” that sounds like nails scraping against a chalkboard, hesitating too long to respond in kind. And you know you’ve made a huge mistake when blue eyes are coldly regarding you once more, shivering from both the cold and fear as he pulls back from you before shoving you onto your back and settling between your legs.

“Looks like you need a little more encouragement to reciprocate my feelings. That’s okay. We have all the time in the world for me to show you just how much I love you.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere akaashi #haikyuu smut #yandere akaashi x reader #akaashi x reader #tw: noncon #tw: rape #tw: pregnancy #tw: yandere #tw: impregnation

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paradife-loft · 4 years ago

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three sentences of jiang cheng and jin guangyao's co-parenting adventures :)

(“three sentences”. yeah, well, there sure are three sentences here. and then a bunch more sentences. I guess you could consider the extra sentences like interest for the wait time? :’D I don’t know what I’m doing with myself any more. oh well, I hope the disaster grape pov is enjoyable (’:)

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Even though it would’ve been perfectly acceptable to receive Clan Leader Jin at the gates to Lotus Pier proper, Jiang Cheng had decided today to take advantage of the lack of other guests arriving at all hours to meet Lianfang-zun and their nephew down at the docks in the town, instead.

He doesn’t have to wait long; the boat carrying the Jin clan retainers comes into sight on the river within a quarter shichen, and is soon unloading a stream of pale gold out into the lakefront market stalls. Lianfang-zun is one of the last out onto the pier, but Jin Ling rushes past much quicker – the child clambering out through the benches and onto the dock, then turning back to peer in over the railing. He calls an impatient “xiao-shushu!” into the boat, trying to wave him further along without letting go of the ornate, adult-sized sword he held clasped in both hands.

A moment later, he’s apparently given up waiting for his other uncle and flung himself toward Jiang Cheng instead, skidding to a halt and almost overbalancing a few feet in front of him, where he then nods into a perfunctory bow that’s maimed from the start by the way he keeps the sword hugged to his chest. “Uncle Jiang-zongzhu.”

Jiang Cheng feels a small stone at the pit of his stomach, remembering how last time it had simply been jiujiu (when they were in private, he reminds himself, just the three of them that were his remaining family, without all the rest of these disciples and townspeople around) – but he nods anyway, eyeing the sword. Jin Ling scurries around to his side, and Jiang Cheng drops an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tightly.

It’s a familiar sword, moreso in its spiritual aura than the profile of the hilt and sheath which runs toward the sort of Jin gaudiness whose distinctions he’s never made a particularly intent study of – oh. He understands, abruptly, why Jin Ling must be clinging to it so tightly.

He glances up to where Lianfang-zun is finally emerging from the boat, holding the train of his robe up in one hand and the proffered arm of a Jin disciple in the other. Throughout the elegance of his arrival, he seems to spare a few soft glances at Jin Ling – until he straightens up on flat ground, and the expression melts off his face with a keen fleck of his eyes up toward Jiang Cheng.

“Xiandu.”

“Jiang-zongzhu.” His greeting is effortless and graceful in all the ways Jin Ling’s was not; and afterwards, his mouth quirks in an amused smile for the seven-year-old currently leaning into Jiang Cheng’s side. “I recall you mentioning a desire to show me Lotus Pier’s marketplace in your last message – but it seems a-Ling perhaps has other ideas?”

“I wanna go watch the sword practise,” Jin Ling confirms, burrowing his head and shoulder further in toward Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng looks down at him. His hair is studded with tiny ornaments and tied up into a pale embroidered gold Jin ribbon. He holds Suihua (where had he gotten it from?), and cajoles two uncles in place of a mother and father.

(Had Jiang Cheng ever clung to Yanli like this, when they were children? Of course he had. The recognition tears something unsettling in his throat.)

“You can have one of the senior disciples take you to watch the drills, and then Jin-zongzhu and I will come see how well you’ve learned once we’re done here,” he says – a passable enough recovery of his usual authority, he hopes. He turns and beckons one of his own seniors in Jiang blues with a nod of his chin.

Jin Ling looks back at Jin Guangyao when the Jiang disciple leans down to take his hand. “It’s okay to go ahead?”

Jin Guangyao smiles again, the broad one that crinkles his eyes and dimples his cheeks and always makes Jiang Cheng feel irritatingly patronized, or seen through, or… something. All he knows is it gives him an unsettling clench in his gut half the time he sees it, even if it’s not directed at him.

“While you’re at Lotus Pier, you’re free to do whatever you please within Jiang-zongzhu’s guidance,” he says to Jin Ling, before ending with a glance up, meeting Jiang Cheng’s own gaze with the same smile on his mouth but a different look entirely in his eyes.

That’s a premonition of a conversation to come, Jiang Cheng figures. He’s only been Jin-zongzhu for less than a year by now, but Jiang Cheng’s been met with enough looks amidst discussions with the previous clan leader, followed by Jin Guangyao catching his sleeve after he’s left for running another variation on the topic without his father present, to understand the same one now.

Whatever. He’ll deal with it whenever Lianfang-zun decides to make it his problem and no sooner. If he doesn’t like Jiang Cheng using his own authority with his own nephew in his own sect, he can bring it up on his own time.

Once Jin Ling and most of the disciples have gone ahead to the main complex, though, Jiang Cheng ends up reminding himself of exactly why Jin Guangyao has a tendency to be pleasant company. He asks after the relationships Jiang Cheng has been overseeing with the minor sects in the region, and offers up a couple suggestions for other contacts outside Yunmeng that he might be able to offer them to ease some of their trade problems. He listens to the impromptu tour Jiang Cheng gives of the Lotus Pier market, as he introduces the various familiar faces he’s looked at with a certain pride of responsibility ever since they’d been waving at him as the sect’s young master; as well as the newer faces he’s come to know in the rebuilding process, as they brought in replacements for the pieces of Lotus Pier’s foundation that had been lost during the war.

He asks just the right questions to let Jiang Cheng segue into a topic he can feel genuine pride at, and manages to look genuinely interested in the answers. When they stop to speak with the stall owners, he smiles at all the aunties and uncles and grandfathers oh so charmingly, and compliments their wares as if he’d been shopping in Lotus Pier his whole life.

(“Oh, and here I’d been hoping you might serve some of that delicious wuchang fish you had prepared during the last cultivation conference while I was here again,” he’d exclaimed when they came across one of the fishermen hauling in the day’s catch from a nearby lake. “I remember it being sliced so beautifully as well – but one could hardly expect anything else in Yunmeng, could they?”)

And Jin Guangyao is indeed such a flawless conversationalist, that after another half-shichen in his company, Jiang Cheng has begun to find it almost grating. He’s got a pinched feeling in the base of his stomach that’s only grown as they’ve wound their way back up to the Jiang sect’s compound, vaguely listening to Jin Guangyao update him on recent news from other corners of the cultivation world.

They’re almost to the gates when the sound of sword drills reaches Jiang Cheng’s ears, and he remembers in a sudden rush back of emotion the thing he’d been meaning to get answers on before they rejoined the rest of their sects.

“Lianfang-zun,” he interrupts, unable to help the tension he can feel creasing his brow from taking up its usual home in his face. No use trying to be delicate about it – he’d see through it anyway, and then Jiang Cheng would just feel like a fool again for having tried. He squares his shoulders and refuses to be moved to apology by the questioning surprise in Jin Guangyao’s glance.

“Jin Ling was carrying Jin Zixuan’s sword when you arrived here,” he says. He tries at least to make it sound less like an accusation than it feels. “You gave it to him?”

In return, Jin Guangyao smiles at him briefly. “I did. Not for practicing with, of course – not until he’s older and his core has formed properly.” He’s using a soothing tone of voice, Jiang Cheng can recognise – as if he himself is the yet-coreless child who needs to be reassured that way. He bites the inside of his lip.

“It’s merely… I’ve been intending on installing honors for my elder brother within Golden Scale Tower recently as well, since presumably this position would’ve been his if not for… well. But it seems the renewed discussion of Zixuan-ge has gotten a-Ling missing his father, and I thought giving him something he had so treasured during his lifetime might provide a small comfort for what I can’t replace. And he has been working quite diligently on his sword forms, so it seemed fitting.”

Jin Guangyao is looking up at him, while Jiang Cheng is trying to sort out what his feelings are doing and keep the reflexive scowl off his face, and – it’s almost astounding how a person can manage to look both apologetic and thoroughly unwilling to give any ground away at the same time. He glances down to where Jin Guangyao has clasped his fingers together, almost hidden beneath the sturdy silk of his sleeves, and then breaks away entirely.

“Oh, well. If that’s what it is, then good. He should have something of his father’s to remember him by.”

The people at Golden Scale Tower still tell plenty of stories of Jin Zixuan, Jiang Cheng knows – he’s heard some personally on visit, and also about them, via Jin Ling’s resultant questions and boasts, as reported to him by none other than Jin Guangyao himself. But he wonders how many people still left there knew Jin Zixuan in the way a child ought to know his father, instead of as a distant figure worthy of gossip now and again because he’s the sect leader’s only (acknowledged) child.

He wonders whether anyone at all has seen fit to tell Jin Ling anything meaningful about his mother whatsoever.

Around the hilt of Sandu, his knuckles clench white and painful, as he tries to make himself stop letting that line of thought grow, before it can take over and loom over his head entirely. A stupid waste of effort, usually, but if there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s letting his emotions so obviously getting the better of him in front of Jin-zongzhu, Lianfang-zun, ever-accommodating perfect host Jin Guangyao.

Jiang Cheng takes a couple of hopefully-understated breaths to try and steady himself, and then scowls despite it all when it only does about as much good as ever – but he lets the last out audibly through his nose, and then turns back to look at his guest beside him. Waiting patiently, as always.

“Well? Let’s go, then. If he’s been practicing his sword forms as much as you say, he should’ve picked up something passable here by now since we’ve been gone.”

Jin Guangyao only inclined his head politely, and follows Jiang Cheng inside to where the rest of their disciples – along with their shared nephew – are waiting.

As he enters the main courtyard, he hopes for the first time in a while, childishly and without much real conviction, that if his sister is watching over any of them, himself or Jin Ling most of all – that she will grant him the strength missing from his heart these past several years, to make part any of this easier for him. Even just a little bit would help.

#that time James wrote fic #no good things for the poor sad cultivators #Jiang Cheng #Jin Guangyao #....look much like jgy I myself am only going to sort of apologise for the sneaky chengyao agenda here #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#TWO FUCKING THOUSAND WORDS ISTG I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENS #I *literally* wrote this all today #do you remember when the last time I wrote 2k in a day was? nope? neither do I!#I should. go the fuck to bed now.#maybe clean this up and give it a title and shit for ao3 tomorrow #.....oooor finish the last prompt I still have here before jgy month is over #that's a thing I could/should do too #wombathos

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maddogofshimano · 4 years ago

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Dojima Yayoi Character Story

The acting 5th Chairman herself, Yayoi!

Despite wielding a sword, she’s actually a defense unit in game. RGGO unfortunately sticks women in any role except offense almost universally, Miss Tatsu is one of the very few exceptions to that. Even characters like Nair and Kaoru are usually support units! It’s pretty lame.

Summary: Set following Terada’s death and Kiryu’s first talk with Daigo, we find Yayoi learning about the machinations of the Omi. Kashiwagi has a plan to pull the Tojo Clan back together, but he’s going to need the right person to take charge, and Yayoi has an opinion on who that should be.

2006, 5 years after Dojima Daigo was arrested for violating the firearms and sword laws after travelling to Osaka to face Goda Ryuji

Daigo, who was expelled from the family, was abandoned by his previous cronies and has fallen to excessive drinking.

Daigo continues to order drinks. Yayoi finds him in the club and approaches.

Daigo wants to know why she’s here. She wants to know when he’s going to knock it off and how long he intends to live like this. The man who commited that murder wasn’t Kiryu... but Daigo already knows that, doesn’t he. Kiryu must have asked Daigo to help the Tojo Clan, so he ran off to get himself wasted, right?

Daigo, being accurately called out, doesn’t want to talk to Yayoi, and says she should leave. It’s none of her concern. She says that of course it’s her concern, she’s his mother.

Daigo snaps back that now she wants to act like a mom?

Daigo leaves without another word.

She follows him into the street, but he’s already gone. She reflects on what he said, he’s never said something to her like that before. For a long time now, she and that other person’s work with the family must have made Daigo terribly lonely. (Tl note: really vague on who that other person is! I would assume Dojima Sohei, but it would be very interesting for her to think of him as “that other person” instead of her husband or ex-husband)

Right now that child simply won’t listen to her. Kiryu though... she wonders what he can do.

She’s interrupted by some jackass trying to hit on her.

She tells him to scram, she’s not in the mood to deal with this. He attacks, because he is a goon. She tells him not to complain if he dies.

The goon starts screaming for help, that she’s a murderer. Yayoi knows better than to stick around, and leaves, still wondering what to do about Daigo. She hears something and sees none other than........

Kashiwagi!

He’s bleeding from his chest! She’ll do first aid, but he needs to get to a hospital ASAP. Kashiwagi claims that he’s fine, really! Sorry about this, ma’am... ugh...!

She asks what happened, Kashiwagi explains that he was attacked by an Omi Alliance assassin. Yayoi is shocked to hear it’s the Omi!

Yayoi wants to know what Kashiwagi is talking about. He explains that the Omi have been attacking, first targeting the 5th Chairman, Terada. They got him into an ambulance, but he still died. Yayoi is shocked. Kashiwagi says that the main branch is working overtime to handle this.

He was actually looking for Yayoi regarding that. Unfortunately, the hitman attacked him in the middle of his search, leading to this sorry spectacle. The Omi might be trying to crush everyone.

Yayoi has a grasp on the situation now, but asks why Kashiwagi is coming to her with this. He tells her he has a plan he’d like to discuss. Unfortunately they’re interrupted by goons bursting in, shouting that they found Kashiwagi.

Yayoi asks if these are the hitmen that got him. He confirms it, they stabbed him out of nowhere. The goons say they’re going to do a lot more than that this time!

Yayoi is winning, and Kazama Family boys arrive to chase them off. One of the boys asks if Kashiwagi is alright, he says he’ll be fine, and tells the man not to ignite this powder keg into an all out war.

Yayoi and Kashiwagi head to a familiar bar to discuss this plan that Kashiwagi has, since it’s too dangerous to remain out in the street.

Kashiwagi: ...I’ll cut straight to the point. I want Daigo to be the acting 5th Chairman.

Yayoi: Daigo as acting chairman...!? Kashiwagi: ...Yes. Yayoi: You... You’d paint a target on Daigo’s back like that...!? Kashiwagi: ...I recognize the seriousness. But with the 5th chairman dead and myself as acting captain having been wounded... Leaving the main branch without a head is signing the whole clan’s death warrant. Yayoi: ...I understand what you’re saying, but to put that burden on Daigo... Kashiwagi: Right now the Tojo Clan is shaken. The Omi won’t wait around for us to resolve this. Kashiwagi: We need to get ourselves unified as soon as possible. To do that, we need someone suitable to lead us. Kashiwagi: It pains me to say this, but I see no other option.

Kashiwagi says that he thinks Daigo is the kind of person who could pull the Tojo Clan back together. He knows that it’s not something Yayoi wants to hear, but he hopes that she understands. She does, but she has one suggestion, if he’ll listen.

Kashiwagi asks if this is really okay?

Yes, she’s not going back on what she said. Kashiwagi understands. Yayoi asks if they can make one minor detour first.

Back at the club Daigo is barking at staff to get him more booze.

The staff are very politely trying to cut him off. Thankfully Yayoi and Kashiwagi arrive, though Daigo is not thrilled to see them and wants to know why they’re here. Yayoi says she has something to tell Daigo, Daigo says he doesn’t want to hear anything, Kashiwagi tells him he better watch his mouth.

Daigo tells him to shut up and that he doesn’t want to be involved with anything. Mouthing off to Kashiwagi was apparently the final straw--Yayoi knocks Daigo to the floor.

Yayoi: You can stay out of this, Kashiwagi. Manager, sorry, this will get a little violent.

Yayoi: Stand up Daigo. I’m not telling you something as your parent. Yayoi: I’m just angry at the dumbass who’s drinking by himself instead of having the guts to stand up during a time like this. Daigo: ...Don’t give me that crap! Yayoi: Then let me see you grit those teeth!! <They fight, Daigo loses>

Yayoi: Moron. You’re so drunk that you can’t even walk straight. Yayoi: ............Daigo, Terada is dead. Daigo: .......... Yayoi: The omi are attacking. ...It might even turn into a war. Daigo: ....So what. Did you come here to tell me to go back to the clan? Yayoi: ....I’m going to become the acting chairman. That’s what I came here to tell you. Daigo: Acting chairman....!? Are you serious!? Yayoi: Yes, starting now I’ll be replacing Terada. I’ll get the Tojo Clan in order. Daigo: What the hell are you thinking!? Have you lost your mind... Yayoi: ...Of course I know the dangers of the position. But It’s what must be done. Otherwise... Daigo: You...　The lengths you’ll go to for the clan. Yayoi: ......Daigo. Ever since I became that man’s wife, I’ve been prepared for this. Yayoi: Right now... it’s the time. Daigo: Ghh!! Yayoi: ...That’s all I came here to say. Yayoi: Let’s go, Kashiwagi. Kashiwagi: ...Yes ma’am. They leave and Yayoi is quiet. Kashiwagi asks if she’s alright. That was a lot to talk to Daigo about. She says she’s fine, and thinks back to the conversation they had in the bar.

She put forward that she wants to be the acting chairman. Kashiwagi is stunned.

Yayoi: Do I lack the ability for it? Kashiwagi: No, everyone knows that the Dojima Family only made it’s rapid climb thanks to you. You’ve got a large base of support, and the perfect qualities for a leader. I have no objections. Kashiwagi: ...Will it really be okay though? Yayoi: I also think Daigo has the capability to carry the Tojo Clan on his back. Yayoi: But right now, that kid is a little... I’m worried that he doesn’t have enough time to get his feet back under him. Yayoi: Helping him do that should really be something I do as his mother. However, I’m no good at that. Yayoi: So... I wants to offer up my life to buy him the time he needs. (Tl note: the literal phrase here is “burn up [her life]” which is metal as hell) Yayoi: That’s what I can do to become the kind of parent who gives things to her child. Kashiwagi: ............. Ma’am.....

<cut back to present> Kashiwagi: ...Tactless people. Daigo, and you both, ma’am. Yayoi: Heh... That man was too. Yayoi: Well, let’s get going, shall we? The main branch is big, right? I’ll need to decide on our new policies soon. Yayoi: ...I’m counting on you. Kashiwagi. Kashiwagi: Yes ma’am. I, your humble servant Kashiwagi, shall do my utmost to protect you. ...Acting fifth chairman!

<END>

bonus time: At several points Kashiwagi sort of belatedly added in the proper titles for Yayoi, including that last line. It wasn’t easy to fit in for the most part, so I didn’t try to force it.

I really love that this means that Daigo took another loss during Y2, this time his mom went and kicked his ass. Also interesting that Yayoi really did mean Dojima Sohei all those times she referred to “that man”, there’s probably a lot that can be read into that.

Also, eat your heart out Yayoi/Kashiwagi fans.

#rggo #Ryu ga Gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #yakuza #yayoi dojima #daigo dojima #kashiwagi #yayoi #daigo

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darkisrising · 2 years ago

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I, 3, 4, 6, 11, and 15 for “seemed like a good idea at the time” please? its one of my favorites!!

Sorry for the delay anon!!! Real life got away from me, I hope you’re still lingering around my tumblr. Thanks for playing with me!

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

It’s funny, this fic was going to really just be a one-and-done, ending with chapter 1 but ideas for chapter 2 came to me so I decided to let it stay a wip. The biggest difference between this fic and all my others is that, for most of it, I tried writing it when I was depressed. Normally I don’t do that, I’m not the kind of person that can write while they are experiencing some heightened form of emotion, I usually need to feel things in the moment and then process it to use in an outlet like writing later. But those scenes when Boba is in a really dark place, I was in a similarly dark place, too. I don’t know if it’s something I’d do again because I truly don’t believe that someone needs to be a tortured artist to make art, but looking back on some of the things I wrote this feels like some of the closest-to-me writing I’ve ever done. Which is kind of funny seeing as its a star wars mpreg fic lol.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

The future is meeting him, he can taste it, and it is wrong, wrong, wrong. It’s coming too swift. Too sudden. It’s a drumbeat in his pulse— too early, too early, too early— and it only grows faster when he sees the ships— great, black, hulking vultures— keeping watch over his small, sandstone house. Debris of the life that he’s quietly built these final months of his pregnancy are spilling like blood from blown out windows and open doorways, evidence of sonic grenades and unnecessary, petty violence. His home, his harbor, his safety has been breached, and now it’s a wounded beast, splayed apart and dying.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“Anyway, it’s not ‘child’. It’s ‘children '. Plural.”

“Children?”

“Twins.”

“You know,” Din says slowly. Carefully. “Luke is a twin.”

“Oh yeah?” Boba asks, bitterness his new weapon of choice ever since Fennec had insisted on confiscating his rocket launchers when he’d nearly sent them after a food delivery droid in a hormonal rage when it had gotten his order wrong. “I guess it runs in the family.”

And that takes a moment to mean anything to Din, but Boba knows the moment it does because the brave Mandalorian warrior, leader of an empire and uniter of clans, has to sit on the floor. He sinks his head down until his helmet is in his gloved and gauntleted hands, and then he doesn’t move for a very, very long time.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

I talked about how I wrote it depressed, but also I knew I wanted to write it as a love triangle. I’ve enjoyed writing BDL in a healthy, well-communicating polyship, but sometimes I think some of the dramatic tension can be bled from it without that pining of “only one can be with that person i love and i don’t think it’s gonna be me”…which, I don’t agree with that at all, but it can be a good punch in the angst gut to read that kind of pining. So I wanted to set it up in a way that a polyship didn’t seem possible to Boba, when normally I think of him as someone that has a very healthy sense of worth and wouldn’t feel threatened by other people in the relationship mix. So that’s where the visions and the pregnancy hormones and the depression come in, to cut him down a bit.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I like that I get to explore the less-than-puppies-and-rainbows side of pregnancy. So many fic I read in the genre are that kind of gauzy, sunshine, life-is-such-a-miracle thing where everyone falls in love with their baby at first sight—or before!-- and that’s just not how it is for a lot of people. A lot of people go through a lot of shit through the process, even if they really want a child, and it’s super normal. Add in pregnancy/postpartum hormones and sleeplessness and it can completely strip a person of who they were, or at least that was my experience. I’m guessing in choosing Boba to be the one to go through it, I’m sort of letting myself play with the idea that you aren’t weak if you have a hard time of it, even the mightiest can fall when their body is going through so many changes, and it doesn’t make you a shit parent or a failure if pregnancy/infant stage isn’t the best moments of your life.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

That there are a lot of people out there that are willing to read things that you might think are a bad idea to write. So you might as well just write them and throw them out there, because there’s a good chance someone is gonna be excited to read it. *** Ask game

#ask box #ask game #tumblr games #dark is thinking

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twoflipstwotwists · 3 years ago

Link

It’s a late afternoon in April, and Sunisa “Suni” Lee is where most people find themselves a year into the pandemic: Home, in a sweatshirt, talking into a webcam. The 18-year-old gymnast is poised to make history at the summer Olympics, but over Zoom, she’s just like any teenager, reflecting on everything she’s balancing behind the scenes.

While training for a wildly unpredictable Games, Lee has been caring for her recently paralyzed father, mourning the deaths of her aunt and uncle from COVID, and recovering from a broken foot that jeopardized her lifelong dream to win gold. Now Lee, whose parents emigrated from Laos, is also fighting to qualify as the first-ever Hmong American Olympic gymnast—all while her community contends with a national surge in anti-Asian violence. “People hate on us for no reason,” Lee says from her parents’ house in St. Paul, Minnesota. “It would be cool to show that we are more than what they say. I don’t know how to explain that...”

Lee’s father inches his wheelchair closer into the Zoom screen, and answers for her. “It would be the greatest accomplishment of any Hmong person in the U.S. ever,” he says. “It will go down in history.”

Before the Tokyo Olympics were postponed in March 2020, Lee’s family was preparing for the trip of a lifetime. Though she hadn’t actually made the team yet, her parents John Lee and Yeev Thoj had no doubts. They bought plane tickets to watch their daughter compete, and planned to celebrate afterward with a trip to Laos to show Lee and her siblings where they grew up. Both John and Yeev are Hmong, an ethnic group made of people primarily from Southeast Asia and areas in China who fought alongside the U.S. in the Vietnam War. After losing most of their land in the war, many Hmong fled to Thailand as refugees. By the late ‘70s and ‘80s, around 90 percent of the refugee population had resettled in the U.S., where there are now 18 Hmong clans, the largest residing in Minneapolis-St. Paul.

Lee describes her community there as “really close.” More than 300 people come to her family’s annual camping trip, and she can’t go to a local Asian store without someone asking after her dad. She has become something of a local celebrity herself. At Hmong events, Lee gets stopped for photos by people who tell her how proud they are. “It’s nice knowing I have them to fall back on,” she says. “The support is amazing.”

But last May, just two months before the Olympic opening ceremony was originally scheduled to take place, Lee’s family and the rest of the Twin Cities Hmong community found themselves thrust into the national conversation over race and policing. Kellie Chauvin, the now ex-wife of Derek Chauvin, the officer who murdered George Floyd, is Hmong American. So is Tou Thao, another officer on the scene who is set to stand trial in August on charges of aiding and abetting second-degree murder and aiding and abetting second-degree manslaughter in connection to Floyd’s murder. As part of the ensuing protests, several nearby Hmong American businesses were vandalized. John says it got “scary” when several homes on their block were broken into.

“I was trying to make the Hmong community more known,” Lee says. “When that happened, I felt like it was a setback.”

Lee’s journey to the Olympics started with a lumpy mattress and a piece of plywood. Her parents were eager to preoccupy their energetic, gymnastics-obsessed seven-year-old, and a balance beam seemed like the perfect distraction. John built a four-foot-long structure from a spare mattress that, to his credit, still stands in their yard today. He also taught Lee, who’s one of six kids, how to do flips on the bed.

By then, Lee had captured the attention of Jess Graba, a coach at Midwest Gymnastics. “It was super raw and she was just a little kid, but she had some talent,” Graba says, remembering when they met. “Her flips were kind of crazy—she had been practicing in her yard—and she clearly had some ability to go upside down without fear.”

In 2016 when she was 14, Lee was named to the U.S. junior national team, and it became clear Graba could be coaching one of the next great American gymnasts. They traveled around the world together for competitions, and by 2018, Lee had won a gold medal on uneven bars at the National Championships. Five-time Olympic medalist Nastia Liukin, Lee’s longtime hero, took notice of the high-flying athlete. “Her abilities as a gymnast, especially her bar routine, are incredible,” Liukin tells ELLE. “But it’s the unparalleled mental strength that she has shown during the most difficult time of her life that make her the person she is.”

Just two days before the 2019 National Championships, John fell from a ladder while trimming a tree. He was paralyzed from the chest down. At the time, Graba thought Lee shouldn’t compete out of concern for her safety: A distracted athlete is a danger to themselves because they are much more likely to lose focus and get injured. It would have been a devastating end to a decade of training, as nationals are like an unofficial pre-qualifier for the Olympic Games. But John remained confident in his daughter’s ability to compete under pressure. Before Lee stepped onto the mat, they FaceTimed and he advised her to clear her mind—and remember to have fun. “She can stay focused when she puts her mind to it,” he says.

As John watched the competition from his hospital bed, beaming with pride, Lee won the silver in all-around competition, nailing one of the hardest bar routines in the world. One month later, at the U.S. World Championships selection camp, she came within four-tenths of a point of beating Simone Biles in the all-around—the closest anyone has come to Biles in years—and landed one step closer to fulfilling her Olympic dream.

In March 2020, Lee was scrolling through Twitter after practice when she saw the news: The Olympics were postponed, for the first time in modern history, due to COVID. Lee wiped tears away with chalky hands as years of carefully laid plans were thrown into limbo. “To have that taken away from us without having any control is very hard,” she says. “I went through a depressed phase, and it was hard to get out of.”

For weeks Lee could do little more than sleep and cry. Her gym was closed for three months— practically an eternity in the unforgiving timeline of an elite gymnast. When it did reopen in June, Lee broke her foot, meaning three more months of downtime. “If you were 100 percent ready for the 2020 Olympics, then you’re spending the year going, ‘Let’s just not get injured. Let’s just not make any mistakes,’” Graba says.

Lee found an unexpected source of comfort in Biles, who went from being her biggest competition to one of her closest friends after they competed in 2019. “She was there for me,” Lee says. During lockdown, they Snapchatted and texted—two of the only people in the world who truly understood the gut-punch of waiting another year for the Games to begin.

Then, as the country continued to face rising COVID rates in summer 2020, Lee’s own family was devastated by the virus. Her aunt and uncle—close family members who babysat her as a kid—both died of COVID less than two weeks apart. Lee’s uncle, a Hmong shaman, had helped heal her hurt foot with hot ginger and other herbal medicines. Like so many others did during the pandemic, Lee said goodbye over Zoom.

As the nation slowly starts to heal, so has Lee. She can now spot small silver linings from the past year, like spending more time with her siblings and driving her dad to doctor’s appointments, which she calls “good for me mentally, because typically I’m never with them.” It has taken months and months to get back to the peak shape she was in pre-pandemic, but now it’s full steam ahead. The U.S. Championships are the first week of June, and the Olympic trials are later that month. Lee says the extra year has strengthened her performance on the uneven bars and made her more consistent overall. “I just didn’t want to see myself fall back,” she says. “I don’t want to disappoint my coaches or my parents.”

Still, a spot on the team isn’t guaranteed. For the first time in history, U.S. women’s gymnastics has only four open spots (down from five at the 2016 Games), one of which will almost definitely go to Biles. At this point, it might be harder for a U.S. gymnast to make the Olympic team than it is to actually win a medal once they’re there.

Unsurprisingly, none of this seems to phase Lee. She is no stranger to finding the best version of herself under intense circumstances—the version that wins medals, defies gravity, and advocates for her community. Before falling asleep at night, she visualizes herself sticking a perfect landing and coming home as the first Hmong American Olympic gymnastics champion. History made.

#sunisa lee #i want nothing but good things for her

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miceenscene · 4 years ago

Text

Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon

wc: 4.5k / 17k (so far)

summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

warnings: canon-typical violence; discussions of past violence; just SO much (mutual) pining; and kISSING????

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | ao3

Chapter Six: The Revelation

Din Djarin was not a melee fighter.

He had the necessary training to take his creed, which did make him better than most of the galaxy’s combatants. But when he moved from up hand-to-hand to firearms, he never once looked back.

Not that a well placed punch wasn’t a useful tool.

Just that a gun was so much more so.

Which is why even with a few months of training refresh under his belt, Nia could take him to task during their sparring.

But the real sting came from the fact that right now she wasn’t even paying that much attention.

He’d left his right side open, mostly by choice, and she hadn’t immediately exploited it.

They never went easy on each other. She must really be distracted.

She’d been quiet ever since they left the school a few days ago. The following quarry pick up had gone so smoothly, Din had decided that an afternoon planetside wouldn’t be terrible.

He’d been the one to suggest sparring, anything to pull her out of her own head. Though it obviously hadn’t worked all that well.

Proof came when she left her left side completely unguarded a minute later. One quick duck and sweep of his leg, she was flat on her back, blinking up at him.

“You’re distracted,” he said, offering his hand.

She sighed and took it, lifted to standing. “Yes. Sorry.”

He waved it off and rolled his shoulders before falling back into stance. The only armor he wore was his helmet during their sparring, but even that was proving a poor choice in the steadily warming afternoon.

Not that he had much of one to begin with.

Nia wiped her forehead on her shirt sleeve and readied to meet his first strike.

“Will you go?” he asked, reaching for her shoulder. He didn’t need to offer more context; they both knew what occupied her thoughts so heavily.

She danced back and then stepped in closer with a low swing for his ribs that he blocked. “I don’t really have a choice. I have to know.”

They traded blows back and forth, neither of them really pressing to end this round yet. Sometimes the dance was more fun than winning.

Her gaze jumped from his hands to his visor and she stepped back, hands up in pause. “You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to.”

But he just stepped in closer, still in a fighting stance and smiling though she couldn’t see. “Wherever you go, I go, right?”

For a heart-stopping moment, her eyes filled with an expression he didn’t recognize but was so warm and open he felt he knew it all the same.

“Wherever you go, I go,” she repeated.

Then she lunged and grappled him, toppling them both to the ground.

At that point, the fight stopped being about skill at all. They were both laughing as hands slipped in and out of the other’s grasp, each trying for a pin and neither winning.

His size won out, pinning one of her shoulders with his forearm while he trapped her wrist against the ground beneath her.

She struggled to free herself, still smiling and laughing breathlessly. Her hair was half escaped from its braid and tangled from dirt and sweat.

By the Mythosaur, he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as her.

The tightness filled his chest, his gut, expanding up to his mind to make room, pushing out breath, out thought, out everything.

She inhaled softly.

And Din realized he’d dropped his head, pressing his helmet to her brow in a Keldabe kiss.

He flinched back, breaking all contact and dropping to a sit next to her.

Oh kriff. What had he done???

Never before had he been so glad for the helmet as his expressions vacillated through wild shades of horror and shame. Though she knew him well enough to probably see it in the curve of his spine, the tense set of his shoulders.

Nia sat up slowly next to him, brushing the dust off her arms and resting elbows on her knees.

But she didn’t say anything.

Finally, he spoke up. He had to. “I’m sorry. I… shouldn’t have…”

“I feel it too,” she said, plainly.

He dared to look in her direction, but she was staring down at her feet. “You do?”

Her gaze moved to him, warm and open and oh. He did have a name for it after all.

That bright fullness warred in his chest with the mortification still determined to hold its position.

“Yes.” But her half-smile was wistful, and she looked away. “But I… I have so little of myself to give right now. It seems unfair to ask for more than I have to return.”

On some level, he understood her reasoning. Even still–

“I don’t care,” he offered.

She sighed a laugh and looked back to him. “I care… for now, at least. I care.”

“I’ll wait then.”

What was rapidly becoming his favorite expression of hers filled her eyes once more. She reached over and squeezed his hand.

He turned it over and intertwined their fingers, squeezing back.

They sat there in the quiet and warm sunshine for a long while.

Karga was surprised when Din didn’t immediately take four new bounties after dropping the last set off. “We’ll be back for more later,” was the only explanation he got however.

Nia was waiting back at the ship, coordinates already plotted and knee bouncing rapidly.

It was a quiet trip to Cantonica.

The noise of Canto Bight seemed welcoming as the two of them set off into the city.

They walked to the far end, far away from the glittering casinos and tracks, into the industrial section of the city, nearly deserted by the time they arrived.

Nia nodded up at a warehouse as they passed by. “That’s it,” she said quietly.

They kept walking till full dark had fallen over the city, a thick cloud cover blocking out the moon, before they returned to the warehouse.

Nia kept watch as Din hotwired the door open, a slow process but successful. They stepped into the dark and waited, both listening for any signs of life.

The warehouse was still.

Din flicked on his headlamp and they ventured further inside.

“What are we looking for exactly?” he asked after wandering through the obviously abandoned office.

“Ro wouldn’t be here herself, but she may have left something behind. Another message, or a commlink, that’s my guess.”

The door in the back of the office opened to the warehouse, the door scrape echoing through the dark empty room.

Din’s light swung over the floor, sweeping up to the corners to check for cameras.

“Fire damage,” he commented, noting the scorching along the wall.

“Yeah, we were sloppy in the beginning.”

“Were there any important areas of the warehouse? Where was infil and exfil?”

“Over here.” Nia jogged to the far corner of the warehouse, where a rickety catwalk clung to the scorched wall.

She stepped onto the ladder and the whole system let out a low groan. She looked back at him. “You should stay down here.”

His thoughts exactly. “Be careful.”

The catwalk lowed as she reached the top of the ladder and pulled herself over the railing.

Every squeak and metallic groan out of the metal stabbed at Din’s gut. He followed her every step, mentally calculating the likelihood of catching her should the whole grid give up clinging to the wall.

He didn’t like those odds.

What he wouldn’t give for a jetpack right now.

“I found something.” She pulled a small, unobtrusive box off the wall. “Catch.” She dropped it into his ready hands. It was marked with the Vod’oya sigil.

But her momentarily leaning over the railing proved the last bolt for the catwalk. It gave out a deafening screech and then leered away from the wall, knocking Nia off her feet. It careened half for the floor then was stopped, a few last bolts daring to hold strong.

“Nia!” Din rushed to stand under her as she dangled some twenty feet above the stone floor.

“It’s fine!” Her voice betrayed the panic she was tamping down. “I think I can–” She started to pull herself up, and the catwalk jerked down another few feet with a loud screech, loosening her grip to just one hand.

“I’ll catch you!” Din yelled.

“It’s too far!”

“I’ll catch you!! I promise!”

Her wild eyes looked down at him as the catwalk groaned again. She nodded.

She let go.

Time slowed as he reached up and grabbed her, rolling over her to give some place for momentum to go.

His helmet clanged against the floor, the world dimming for half a second and then throbbing as he held tight to consciousness.

But there was no time to grapple for bearings, Nia was pulling him up to his feet.

When his ears finally clicked back on, they were filled with the screeching from the collapsing catwalk.

Beams fell behind them as they sprinted for the door.

They made it back to the office. Out the front door. Across the street and down a few more alleys before they stopped.

He dropped to sitting against the wall, gasping for air and trying to keep the world from wobbling like a drunken tauntaun.

“You okay?” Nia asked, kneeling in front of him.

He ran a glove across the back of his neck and held it up for inspection. “No blood. I’m fine.”

“Din.” It came out both angry and concerned, but he shook his head, making the world whirl some more and his stomach turn in answer.

“Just give me a minute. Here.” He dug the box out of his pocket and tossed it to her.

By her look she knew he was distracting her, but she granted his request, sitting next to him and examining the box.

It wasn’t solid wood, but rather separate pieces fastened tightly together.

“I remember these,” she said half under her breath. She flipped it over and pulled on a seemingly random section, but it came away easily. The box deconstructed in her hands and held a small scroll of paper.

The markings on the page jumped around when he looked at them, making him frown and close his eyes in concentration.

“Coordinates. In mando’a. If it’s here on Cantonica, that’s not far from where we landed.”

“Let’s go then.”

“You alright to walk?”

He squinted an eye open and slowly stood. His skull drummed a very steady beat, and his stomach was uneasy at best, but the world remained steady. “Let’s go,” he repeated.

She stood and wordlessly offered her staff. He refused and then stumbled on the first step.

So he took it and they set off.

It was slow going as they made their way to the far side of the city, the cloud cover turning into a slow drizzle that dampened their shoulders and Nia’s hair, pinging softly off the tops of Din’s armor.

The coordinates led them to a humble neighborhood not too far from the spaceport. There were no people on the road between the hour and the rain, and most of the windows were dark.

Din’s gaze swept across the street, pausing at a single story house. There was a small carving in the mantle of the doorframe, a swooping Mandalorian ‘V’.

Something in the back of his mind still itched at the sight of it.

He reached for Nia’s shoulder and nodded to the door.

She took a steadying breath and knocked twice.

No one answered.

She waited a few more minutes and then knocked again.

No reply.

Din looked up the street and coming around the corner was the first figure they’d seen since they arrived. A human woman with a facefull of freckles, carrying a bag.

Ro.

“Nia,” Din said quietly. She turned around.

Ro looked up, immediately threw her bag down and ran the opposite way.

“Wait!” Nia cried, taking off after her. Din pushed himself to a run, head pounding with every step.

“Why is she running?!” Din called up to Nia.

“She’s a fugitive who saw a Mandalorian bounty hunter waiting at her front door. Wouldn’t you run?”

If you saw a Mandalorian waiting for you, it was already too late. But the point stood.

“Split up,” Nia ordered, grabbing the building to swing around the corner after Ro. Din ran a few blocks down before turning down his own alley, the world threatening to start whirling again with every step.

He waited at the corner, Nia’s staff still in hand, listening as two sets of pounding footsteps got steadily louder.

He swung the staff out, and Ro collided with it full-force.

Though she rolled back over her shoulder and fired her blaster at Din from kneeling.

The impact on his cuirass knocked him back a few feet, the staff clattering to the ground and the world finally making good on that whirling threat.

“Ro–Wait!”

Nia ran up in time for Ro to turn her blaster on her.

Din threw himself forward and tackled Ro, sending the shot wide and the gun skidding across the ground.

Ro twisted in his hold and a vibroblade slashed across his ribs, shallow but long.

His breath withered in his chest and the pounding in his head became deafening.

But Nia grabbed Ro’s shoulder, pulling her away from him.

Ro just turned on her, blade already swinging.

Her strikes were pointed and brutal, the vibroblade hissing through the air.

Nia knocked the blade out of her hand but gave up ground as she remained on the defensive.

She quickly was backed up against the wall with no escape.

“Ro. It’s me! It’s Nia!”

Ro ducked in and it looked like her strike over shot Nia’s shoulder, but then the arm whipped back around Nia’s neck, pulling tight and cutting off breath and blood flow.

Nia slapped at Ro’s arm but she held strong.

Din’s world fell back into order to the sight of Nia’s redding face. He fired his blaster once into the air and then pointed it at Ro’s head as he pulled himself up to standing. “Let her go.”

Ro looked at him, calculating odds as Nia pulled helplessly on the hold and her face turned unsettling colors, then she released her and held her hands up, a sneer playing across her mouth.

Nia dropped to her knees, gasping for air and coughing.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded and staggered up to her feet. “Put the gun away,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Nia,” he responded, the oversaturated red shade of Nia’s face far too fresh in his memory.

“Put it away.”

He lowered the weapon, but didn’t holster it.

“You brought a buckethead for a bodyguard?” Ro asked, disdain dripping from every word.

“This is Mando, he’s my friend.”

Ro scoffed. “You don’t even know his real name?”

“I know it.”

A knowing look crossed Ro’s eyes. “So he’s one of those.”

One of what?

Nia stepped closer but Ro edged back, a warning in every movement she made that Nia didn’t seem to notice at all. “Ro, I need your help. I don’t remember anything.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“I swear. I got a control chip put in my head, it took everything. I don’t even know who put it there. I’m… I’m getting bits and pieces sometimes, but– What happened? To the school? To Vod’oya? Have you heard anything from Phasia? Or Anella?”

That calculating look filled Ro’s eyes again.

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Nothing.”

The look disappeared behind an eerily calm wall.

“I don’t know where Anella is. Last time I saw her was… about the last time I saw you. And I don’t know who attacked the school either. We were gone… looking for you.”

Nia frowned. “Why?”

Ro studied her carefully. “You really don’t remember?”

“No.”

She chuckled once, cold and unamused. “That’s con-kriffing-venient for you.”

“Why were you looking for me?” Nia asked, pleaded.

Ro studied her sister for a long moment, a new sneer pulling her lip up, then she hissed,

“Because you killed Phasia.”

Nia froze.

That… that couldn’t be right.

“...What?” Nia said, her voice very small.

Ro stepped forward, fury shaking down her limbs. “You killed Phasia. You betrayed the Vod’oya.”

“No. No, th-that can’t– You–you’re wrong.”

“I saw everything. I saw you two talking that night and then you pulled your gun. And I watched you shoot our captain, our sister in cold blood. And then you ran.”

“No–” She started folding in on herself.

Din stepped forward, half shielding Nia from Ro. “If you saw, why didn’t you try to stop her?” he demanded.

“Because I didn’t have a death wish. I can’t compete with Nia when she’s actually trying. Only Phasia ever could. And now she’s dead.”

Nia sucked in a shaking breath.

Din stepped fully between them now. “If the Vod’oya were together when the school was attacked, why did you leave the message?”

“We split up. For safety. We didn’t know how many of us she intended to murder.”

Without another word, Nia turned and fled, running back down the alley. Din stopped long enough to pick up her abandoned staff before following her.

Ro’s voice echoed down the stone walls after them. “Watch your back, Mando! Or you might be next!”

The drizzle turned into a downpour as Din chased after Nia all the way back to where they’d docked The Razor Crest.

Nia finally slowed at the foot of the open ramp, before turning abruptly and emptying her stomach into a puddle. She staggered as she stood, Din reaching forward to brace her.

“She’s lying,” he insisted, searching Nia’s face. Her eyes were distant and deeply haunted. “She has to be.”

Nia shook her head, her voice shredded and hollow. “She’s not. I remember. I remember… being so angry… watching her body drop in front of me.” Her gut coiled as if to vomit again but she held strong. “I murdered my sister, Din.” She shuddered and pulled away from his support. “I… should have realized. Memory’s a curse–I don’t want to remember anything more.”

But he closed the distance between them, gripping her shoulders. “You wouldn’t have done this without reason.”

“You don’t know that! I don’t even know that. Neither of us know who I am–”

“No!” He cupped her cheek. “I know you, Niæna Vard’on. Ni kar’taylir veman.”

I know you truly.

“You would not take a life, especially your sister’s life, without just cause.”

She shook her head and gripped his hand on her cheek. “What reason would justify this?”

“We’ll find out. And we won’t stop till we know the whole truth.”

She stared at him, her lips quivering with tears hidden by the rain. “I don’t deserve this… I don’t deserve your loyalty, Din.”

“I don’t care.”

She stared at him for a long moment then reached up and tilted his helmet forward enough to press her brow to his.

He pulled her closer, needing to shield her from the rain, from everything else in the galaxy. She was so powerful, so capable, and he wanted so desperately to be safe harbor for her, as she had become for him.

But her hand brushing his side broke the moment, making him flinch away with a low groan and his head pushed back in with a reminding throb.

“Din–”

“I’m…” He wanted to find the way back into the intimate with her, but the moment had passed, disrupted by his injuries.

She sighed and took his hand. “Come on.”

They were both dripping puddles on the hull floor when the door closed behind them.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to a crate and moving to where the healing supplies were kept.

He was more than grateful to finally sit down, though disappointment puddled right next to the rain.

“We’re out of bacta-shots, so it’s going to have to be cauterized,” she said, returning with the tool in hand. He reached for it but she held it back. “Let me help.”

At first he tried to help her remove the pieces of his armor in her way. But after his clumsy fingers failed twice in a row to unbuckle his pauldron, she batted his hand away and removed the armor pieces, then the protective padding over his jumpsuit.

Every layer removed felt like a skin peeled away, leaving him raw and uncomfortably vulnerable. He hadn’t been this unprotected around another person in decades.

She seemed to sense his hesitation and paused to squeeze his hand, smiling softly at him, before pulling off the vambraces and his gloves.

Hoping that perhaps blunt efficacy would be its own armor, he yanked the zipper on the jumpsuit down enough to ease his arms out of the wet and stiff fabric.

He was still helmeted and mostly clothed, but he could practically feel her gaze smooth across his bare shoulders and chest. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything as she knelt beside him.

“Do you want a warning?” she asked, resting his arm on her shoulder and ducking towards the wound.

“It doesn’t make it hurt less.”

She chuckled and a nasty buzzing noise started below his elbow. “Get ready.”

It was a slow process and by the end, he was gripping the back of her shirt and shaking slightly. But finally–

“Deep breath. We’re done with this.”

He sucked in a steadying breath as she stood up.

“Thank you.”

She nodded and set aside the cauterizer for a handheld medical scanner. “One last thing. Turn around, we need to remove your helmet.”

Every already overexposed nerve flared, and he instinctively recoiled. “It’s fine–”

But she seemed to have expected his reaction. “If you’re going to exonerate me, you can’t do that with a concussion.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, her palm cool and electrifying on his bare skin. “Trust me, Din. Please.”

He did… he really did.

But it was still terrifying.

She sat behind him, the hand leaving his shoulder, but he could still feel where her skin had touched his like another tattoo.

It was a full minute till he summoned enough determination to ease his helmet off, resting it between his knees and staring down at his boots.

She exhaled softly. Then fingers gently touched the ends of his hair. “It’s curly,” she said, a smile in her voice that seemed so much warmer without the helmet.

“I need to cut it,” he muttered.

“Shame.”

The tightness in his chest was making it difficult to take full breaths.

Then her fingers slipped into his hair, tips running over his scalp, and he immediately stiffened.

She stopped but didn’t move away. “Does this hurt?”

He shook his hand, words impossible at the moment.

“I’m going to keep going,” she whispered.

His eyes shut as she continued, the sensations seeming to ripple outward, down his neck, his spine.

Years of diligently instilling preference for loneliness, for detachment, for separation were catching flame with every gentle brush of her fingers through his hair. He hadn’t realized till that moment how thoroughly all these months he’d been stacking tinder, splashing kerosene, all in longing for her spark.

Even her glancing across the sore spot on the back of his head wasn’t enough to stifle the flame.

“Here, yes?” she asked in that same whisper. He nodded.

His lips were clenched tight between his teeth and his fists balled on his knees; he was so focused on controlling his own reactions he missed her scanning him all together.

“Minor concussion, we’ll take it easy for a few days and you’ll be alright.”

Then her hands started to retreat.

And a low whining gasp of her name escaped through the flames.

She paused for a heart-stopping moment as he crackled with both need and shame.

Then she moved closer, her palms smoothing down his back then around his sides, wrapping him – shielding him – from behind. Her cheek rested on his shoulder blade. She was warm, damp fabric and smooth skin and soft hair.

“I’m here,” she murmured.

His hands covered hers as she held him, his throat shredded sore and every breath shaking under the unfamiliar weight of connection.

Yet even still… he wanted more, wanted it enough to risk everything for it.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Her hold relaxed, and he gave her another breath before he dared to look over his shoulder.

There she was. Niæna Vard’on, his Match. The woman he loved, beheld in his own eyes for the first time.

He eagerly took in every detail of her face that the view screen obscured. The faintest hint of more freckles across the bridge of her nose, the tops of her cheeks. The few strands of early silver hair in her dark curls. The pale line of an old scar along her jawline.

Her eyes were solidly shut, and impossibly, greedily, he wanted to know those most of all. Was there gold in the center of her grey eyes? Or blue? Would they still smile at him if they saw his first face?

Need is a weakness, the cruel voice hissed just loud enough to make him lean back, to almost turn away and reach for the safety of his helmet.

But then Nia lifted her hand and reached out slowly towards him.

He watched her approach, apprehension and burning want warring with every passing second.

Then, the first person in nearly two whole decades, she touched his cheek.

His breath shuddered, and he leaned into her touch, eyes shutting under the tender onslaught as her other hand cupped his jaw.

She mapped the frame of his face, the curve of his nose, the stubble on his chin. Every brush of her touch so perfect it seared.

He kissed her thumb as it brushed over his lips, and she inhaled. “Din,” she whispered, moving closer, her head angling slightly.

He stopped her by pressing his brow to hers, savoring the pressure he hadn’t felt in the times before. “I’ve never kis– I want to… I may be bad at this,” he admitted in a rough voice, searching her closed eyes for reassurance.

She smiled softly. “I don’t care.”

He tentatively brushed his lips over hers, turning her smile solar bright for a second and making his chest glow in response, then she pressed close and kissed him.

Star bursts and comet fire.

It was inelegant and unpracticed and so wholly perfect that he wanted to be kissed by only her till the day he died.

Even after then too.

Everything else in the universe disappeared as he pulled her closer. Everything except for Nia.

Her hair between his fingers, her hands slipping down his back, her lips against his.

And then, through the comet fire and the star bursts and the steadily improving kisses, something flickered even deeper.

And a new yet familiar bond whispered,

Together.

Chapter 7: The Investigation

taglist: @loversandantiheroes ; @kelenloth ; @keeper0fthestars ; @sarahjkl82-blog ; @thirstworldproblemss ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @i-belong-in-fandoms ; @gallowsjoker ; @nova646

#The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #Din Djarin x ofc #mando x ofc #din djarin x oc #mando x oc #din dijarin fanfiction #soulmate au #star crossed #my writing

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pandapupremade · 3 years ago

Text

Meeting the Fool

WORDS: 616

SHIP: Ruthe (self insert) X Nobunaga Oda (Samurai Warriors)

CONTENT WARNINGS: Father / parent death mention, harassment mention

NOTES: This was written based on the 7th prompt from this hurt/comfort list. it was sent by @/ribbitships ! Although this is less hurt/comfort in the end and more turned out to just be a fic involving my s/i’s meeting with nobunaga

OTHER NOTES: This is my first time writing Nobunaga and also is like. 8(??) years before he actually rises to power properly so i tried to write him more of a reckless, newly adult character rather than a reckless daimyo of war. he still speaks in third person about himself tho bc i think thats cute oops

reblogs ok, not required but appreciated if you want to!

It was no secret to anyone of the Oda clan that one of the oldest sons of the recently late Nobuhide liked to sneak out. Nobunaga, at the age of 18, was not exactly the most formal of heirs. He never had been, and such behavior was not to begin anytime soon; not even with the death of his father leading to a succession crisis in his clan. In fact, he seemed to think this was more of a bother.

As a result, when "The Fool of Owari" was not found in his room one afternoon, there was hardly a panic. Likely, everyone figured he'd gone off to explore the town again. This would indeed be accurate. Specifically, he was going through the market at that time, and was not keen on returning until he was actually needed, rather than simply his sitting around unentertained.

Well, that was his reasoning, but he was not exactly entertained his exploration. He knew this town well - all of the Owari province was likely more familiar to him than it was to most, in fact, and he was getting just as bored as if he had stayed in the castle. How unfortunate...

Still, as he browsed the stores, he would come across something that proved a little more intriguing than the common vegetables...

"Why don't you spend some time with me?" A man was saying this to a long-haired individual nearby. Although the market was crowded with many conversations going on, it was notable this was one interaction worth watching - although Nobunaga couldn't initially tell why, he soon deduced it must be because the one with long hair looked...To put it simply, they were clearly not from around here. A foreigner, perhaps...

"I am fine," replied that foreigner, shaking their head, "Please, um, don't bother me."

Further notes Nobunaga made as he got closer were that this person was dressed in an attire he'd hardly ever seen, although he could tell from the dirt and rips it was not the attire of a wealthy class...Still, their long hair and their brown eyes drew him in....Their beauty, he believed was the term, was drawing him in.

"Bother?" The harasser laughed, "You are so cold, my lady. However, I insist..."

"Insist?" Nobunaga interrupted the scene, his voice deep and almost theatrical in nature, "You are even more of a fool than Nobunaga, if you cannot see the discomfort of his engaged."

"Wh - " The man jolted back, apparently in recognition. "Y-you're - Wait, engaged?"

The person Nobunaga was helping seemed just as confused, and he looked to them with a smile. "Here, hold my hand. Nobunaga shall lead you." He extended his hand, and...Slowly, the individual took it. A bit more hesitantly than perhaps would normally convince, but the man who had been bothering her would no longer have the guts to continue. Not if they were actually engaged to a known delinquent like Nobunaga...

"R-right, my apologies, my lord..." The man apologized, almost looking ready to drop to his knees.

"I forgive you," Nobunaga replied with a hum, looking at the foreigner now as the man fled for his own wellbeing, shoving through the crowd. However, such a display of fear did not seem to console the person Nobunaga had just protected. They now looked timidly to him as well.

"Um...T-thank you, um...Sir..."

"Hmm..." His eyes trailed their appearance, "Let us move from here. You will be safer in the castle." Although it was questionable whether Nobunaga cared for this foreigner's safety at this point, or simply the exciting prospect of something new...

Still, he'd adore seeing the shocked looks on the looks of servants and family alike at bringing this person home.

#👑🏰 Ruthe (Self Insert)#👑🗾 Foolish Destiny (Ship)#🗾🏯 Fool of Owari (Nobunaga Oda)#kermitwriting #ok 2 reblog #ask to tag #parent death mention #father mention

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eivorsjawline · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Day

tw: mention of bloodshed, mental health struggles and alcohol.

*Not the last chapter dont worry, next will be last.

Chapter 9:

Eivor’s POV

I tend to reminisce on the past, my parents, Sigurd, the clan and the times when my family was whole. With the cold whip of the wind and the iridescent reflections in the sky, Norway will forever be my home. Even distant England holds a place within my heart as well as the family I built there. The answer to my hunger lies within myself and whether or not to go back to what I know or stay by the woman beside me. A choice between my honor and the person who I’ve grown to love the most. Though time keeps changing constantly, the recent past loops repeatedly in my head. These days I find myself staring at the walls, the ceiling and the emptiness around me. The dark realization that I have no purpose here, or do I? Life was peaceful but I missed the blade of my ax, I missed the bloodshed. I spent my whole life achieving greatness in what I knew, It was what I was bred for. There was an unspoken oath I took the day I was removed from my mother's womb.

A feeling of guilt always succeeded me, every passing day. What exactly I left behind and what the consequences would be. I have to remind myself that I would have died if It wasn’t for Y/n saving me. I understand now that the technologies that I have here were needed for my survival. Just herbs, alcohol and bandages wouldn’t have been enough to stop the life-threatening wounds I had. I was beaten, bruised and cut so badly I was nearly in a comatose state of mind. Even now, I still get flashbacks to that day and the fight. As a drengr, I’ve grown more and more cold to the idea of war and violence but there will always be something about that specific day. I can't seem to shake the feeling that it hasn’t ended and only more is to come.

Whilst I’ve been adjusting to modern life, I’ve turned to the bottle more times than I should. There have been days where I’ve fallen asleep on the couch, no recollection of even trying to get up yet I always wake up in bed with a blanket over my body. I can’t bear the thought of Y/n supporting me so I found honest work as a carpenter. With a few tweaks, I adjusted fine along with the help of co-workers and friends I made along the way. I feel I’ve become a shell of a being, the impact of everyday life burdens me. It’s not fun anymore, it's real and every day. The walk back home was loud and the people I found strange weren’t so odd anymore. I knew the truth within me, that I had become one of them too. I was almost always alone with my thoughts now that Y/n had started work again. Her hours tended to be late and tedious. She was the only thing keeping my sanity, everyday I drew a breath was for her. With the looks we shared, I wondered if she knew my real thoughts. My melancholic sulking was interrupted when a woman bumped shoulders with me and stopped me in my tracks. When I turned I recognized a familiar face waiting for me.

Reader’s POV

I was shocked when I came home, to say the least. The air was quiet, telling of the predicament I had placed myself in. I never thought I’d see Eivor and Valka sitting down together in my house. The silence was so loud, I couldn’t place my finger on exactly what but there was a feeling within me that knew why she was here. At first glance, she seemed unrecognizable but with a closer look, I recognized her right away. She looked almost the same with a more present-day twist to fit in. Faint freckles danced on her warm skin along with the intensity of her usual solemn expression. Her hair was pulled back and her eyebrows were as thick and beautiful as I remembered. She wore a light tan dress, she would never stray too far from her traditional taste. Valka wouldn’t have come this far for anything, a gut-wrenching feeling consumed me. I placed my belongings on a table near me and the three of us gathered around one another, the silence eating me alive.

“I want to make this as straightforward and honest as possible. We needed you then like we need Eivor now. Without you, Eivor would indefinitely no longer be with us. Ever since Eivor’s absence, the Danes and Saxons have grown only more divided.”

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Eivor had a worrisome look on her face, one that I had never seen before. Her eyes roamed around the room as If looking for some sort of distraction, maybe even a way out. I kept her sheltered here all this time and even though I’ve enjoyed every moment I still carry around a lot of guilt with me. The fact that I removed her from all that she knew tore me apart from the inside every day no matter how necessary. Perhaps, Eivor was meant to die there that day and her people’s fate was meant to be sealed. The realization that I could be in the process of ultimately changing the past suddenly struck me. Valka had more to say, a proposal I presumed to be made.

“If my visions are correct, Eivor is the key. My most recent discovery is that time changes throughout different realities and dimensions. It has been only a short amount of time for the both of you but It’s been years for us. Time passes slowly when maneuvering into the future but faster into the past.”

Everyone I met from the clan, I caused Eivor to completely leave them in the dark for years. I didn’t want to admit it but I knew exactly what Valka was getting at. These were Eivor’s last days with me if not the last day. As much as it pains me, she belongs in the past and I belong here. I screwed with time too much already, there are now two people out of place in the world. It’s almost as if Valka is an extraterrestrial being with the powers she holds and her ability to jump in between dimensions as if it were nothing. She had a natural aura about her almost like she could fit in anywhere she went and no one would have any suspicions. I've walked by Eivor’s side this entire time and I can't say the same for her. The road has been difficult and long, I can only imagine the toll it’s taking on her health.

The meeting with Valka was brief until she pulled only Eivor aside to talk to. I figured it wasn’t my business anyway since I was only one part of the story. As nosey as I was, I still tried to hold my breath to listen to their conversation but only whispers and mumbles could be heard. From the side of my peripheral vision, I saw Eivor and she looked stressed beyond all means. She was safe here and content whether she was happy or not and now she has one of the greatest burdens on her shoulders to deal with. A lump formed in my throat, I worried if there was still love between us at least on her end but it could just be my insecurities eating at me. For all, I know this is Eivor’s chance to be done with me and only I to be forgotten. Oh, but I could never forget her or the moments we share. Valka’s footsteps could be heard coming towards me as she came to say her farewells. When I stood up from my seat to make formal eye contact with her, I noticed her posture was straight and confident. I decided to keep my distance because I knew that I grew some sort of attachment to Valka as well. Not much could be said on my end, the decision is up to Eivor only.

Valka left and with her absence, the room grew eerily quiet. I couldn’t face Eivor, just seeing her face made me upset and wrapped in a whelm of emotions. Whenever the world became too much I always escaped outside. Like a coward, I ran towards the sliding door near the back of my apartment trying to hide my oncoming tears that were building up. The rays of the sun hit my skin and the sunset shone down on my face leaving a warm feeling on my cheeks. Tears started to roll down my face and I wiped it off with my shirt sleeve leaving a mess of a damp spot on the fabric. I felt selfish for crying, selfish because I never wanted someone all to myself so badly before. Being alone with my thoughts just caused me to feel them even more intensely, I allowed myself to be consumed by them. Suddenly, I heard what I knew was Eivor’s footsteps shuffling towards me. Quickly, I dried my tears and composed myself within a short time before Eivor stood close behind me.

“You don't have to hide it, I already can tell.”

I've had this moment a thousand times, the one where I try to look like I haven’t just bawled my eyes out. It never fails to completely embarrass me every time. When I turned around I noticed the sun beamed on her skin perfectly and every feature on her face could be seen clearly. She had her hair down, a relaxed look presuming she just got home not too long ago. Her eyebrows were pursed together as if she was studying me and trying to figure out what was on my mind. Eivor was like my guardian angel, always following me through my misfortunes and being my number one support. Truth be told, even if she went I was scared for her and if she could make it through this one. Her wounds were completely healed at this point, but I knew the damage it leaves on the mind is forever permanent.

She pulled me closer to her and wiped the wet spot on my cheek with her thumb. In her eyes, I could tell she was worried whether she admitted it or not. At the moment I catch her off guard her true feelings always show on her face and as soon as her eyes met mine she switched them off. I wanted to be honest with her and tell her my true feelings, how I felt about this situationship we involved ourselves in. My feelings had grown so strong since I met her and I realized I never once told her those three words. The more I tried to force words out of my mouth the more I felt the urge to cry again. Sure enough, tears started to fall down my eyes and my body kept telling me to let go of everything. Eivor brought me tightly into her chest and wrapped her arms around me, reluctant to release me. I heard her say something, mumbling under her breath. When I asked for reassurance as to what she said, she didn't hesitate or move.

“I love you.”

Eivor’s POV

The burden that's been placed upon my shoulders is a heavy one but I’m willing to face it. If I die going back I know that I’ll go in peace and with honor. Though it may have taken some time, I feel that Y/n understands that as well. Not to the degree that a drengr would but to the best of her abilities. She tried her best for me and I devote myself to trying my best for her. I was unsure of a lot of things in my life, but I knew no matter where this life led me that I wanted her there by my side. The sunlight was dying but the night was still young. Knowing it would be our last night here, we decided to savor it together. We did what we do best by getting wine drunk and cranked the volume on the speakers up so loud without a care of who was trying to sleep. The frown that was on her face earlier turned into smiles and laughs as she watched me attempt to dance. I always felt like I could have fun with her and be myself, not so serious all the time. She was a lightweight compared to me, already stumbling a little. Seeing her let loose was cute and showed me a side of her I haven’t seen before. I leaned in closer to her, truth be told she was looking extra sweet tonight. Her beauty was effortless and she didn’t even have to try to turn me on.

“Let me see you dance, I love to see you dance… Take you down another level and get you dancing with the devil.”

I placed my hands on her hips and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I did my best to lead her and sway with the music and It seems I was doing a good job once her cheerful eyes turned into a sultry spark. I pushed my torso closer to her, leaving that space between us no longer. A thousand intrusive thoughts crossed my mind, the most alluring one being that I could die right here and be happy. It’s the feeling moments before making love that is my favorite. My hands started to trace the outline of her body and my mind started to piece together what she looked like underneath the fabric from fond remembrance. Everything that brought me to her was worth it along with every obstacle in between. She leaned in to whisper in my ear and her voice had a noticeable nervous tremble.

“Take me with you…”

Reader’s POV

I said goodbye to everything I knew for the last time, this time the choice is mine willingly. Just a few months ago I would have never thought I’d be here and on my way to the place where it all happened. Where I met the love of my life and my impending future, the events that were to take place. The temperatures dropped so low at night, the bite of the cold felt bitter on my skin. Foolish me, I never take a cover-up anywhere I go. Luckily Eivor was close by and wrapped her jacket around me due to me being visibly upset by the weather. The cold never bothered her, I could feel the heat radiating from under her body when she hovered her arms over my shoulders to place her jacket. The stones were so close yet we hadn’t dared move within their reach. If I was to be honest with myself, I was nervous to go back. Perhaps, they would be upset with me for leaving so suddenly and taking Eivor along with me. It felt like just yesterday I was in England waiting for Eivor’s return by the ship dock.

Something within me felt like I was making the right decision and that this is the fate that was meant for me all along. Regardless of how twisted and strange it may be, I was ready. The entire time being here, Eivor constantly griped and moaned about how she missed home. For once, she was quiet. I always loved how expressive she tended to be with her face, studying everything like a hawk. She needn’t say much, I could tell what she was thinking about. Anxiety, sadness, and excitement all meshed together forming an array of emotions.

Eivor was a step ahead of me, venturing into the stone's embrace as I followed just behind her. Time seemed to pass more slowly, if not coming to a complete end. Throughout this whole experience, I realized that time wasn’t real. The people, the cultures and the history of the past all lived harmoniously with the present. It didn’t feel like I was traveling through time itself but rather visiting a different distant place on the same Earth. Families, lovers and enemies just the same as what we have today. Eivor’s hand met mine and there we held them together. The outline of the scars on the skin of her forehand and all that she endured in her life, a beautifully written story on her body could be felt. Eivor whispered something in her mother's tongue, something I couldn’t understand.

We both kneeled with our backs towards a tall large stone, huddled together with a cold and eerie feeling in the air. Eivor wrapped her arms around mine and we let whatever happened to be just that. I felt safe no matter where this life took me, I knew Eivor would be near. I was ready to live the remainder of my life with her in the past. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I thought of what our life was going to be like together and what our future held. Daydreams and fantasies that I wonder if she too thought of. Passing through a time portal was invisible, you could never really tell if you traveled or not. Something between reality and falsity merged, undetected by the universe itself. I closed my eyes and laid my head to rest in the crook of Eivors shoulder, letting my mind go blank.

#female eivor #fem eivor #eivor wolfkissed #eivor x reader #f!eivor #eivor #eivor wolfsmal #ac valhalla #assasins creed valhalla #fan fic writing #lady eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #assassin's creed valhalla #time travel

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hysterialevi · 3 years ago

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Hjarta | Chapter 14

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

KJOTVE’S FORTRESS

THE DUNGEON

Eivor stared at the limp body dangling above him, utterly dismayed by the new reality he had just stepped into.

Not a single word escaped from the barrier of his lips, and yet, the only thing he wanted to do was scream. It felt as if everything around him had come to a sudden pause, and at the moment, there was nothing except a deafening silence crushing the walls of his skull.

How could Thora be dead? It was just a day ago that Eivor saw her roaming around, full of the vibrant life she always carried. He recalled their last conversation as if it were yesterday, and even now, her voice still lingered in his thoughts like the smoke of an extinguished flame.

He promised himself he would’ve saved her. He believed he would. He fully expected he’d be returning to Bjornheimr with Thora in tow after a long and arduous battle, but now... his entire world was crumbling around him.

Thora was gone. The very same woman who once rescued him from Kjotve’s barbarity had now succumbed to it herself, and it was all thanks to the hissings of a snake.

Eivor just prayed he would live long enough to see Dag again. He may not’ve been able to save Thora anymore, but he had every intention of ensuring that her killers would follow her footsteps across the bridge to Helheim.

It was the least he could do for her at this point, and the only thing he could do.

“Looks like you’re too late, Wolf-Kissed,” a familiar voice gloated from behind Thora. “Such a shame. All that time spent forming this alliance, and you couldn’t even save one person. Your entire bloodline has always been a joke.”

The young man averted his gaze from Thora’s corpse and spotted Gorm emerging from the shadows, battle-axe in hand as two other warriors prowled alongside him. Kjotve however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Gorm...!” Eivor growled, instantly rising from the floor. He brandished his axe and bared his teeth, ready to leap at them at a moment’s notice. “What have you done to my sister?”

The other man chuckled. “It’s rather obvious, isn’t it? Father cut her down like the bitch she was. Thora tried to put up a fight, but in the end, it meant nothing.” His lips curled into a smug grin. “I’m afraid her seat in the Corpse Hall will forever remain cold.”

Eivor mindlessly took a few steps forward, wanting nothing more than to sever Gorm’s head from his shoulders.

“...You argr dog!” He snarled. “I’ll tear your lungs out through your spine!”

Sigurd hurriedly snatched his lover’s arm, holding him back before he could get himself hurt.

“Eivor!” He warned.

Gorm snickered at the display, clearly not intimidated by the broken warrior’s threats. “You couldn’t kill me even if I was blindfolded, Wolf-Kissed. And we both know it.”

Sigurd ignored the viking’s taunts and got straight to the point, eager to put this charade to an end.

“Enough, Gorm!” He barked. “Where is Kjotve?”

“My father?” He let out a scoff. “He’s gone.”

The prince’s tone mellowed with bewilderment. “What?”

“Are you deaf, Styrbjornson?” Gorm snapped back. “I said he’s gone. He fled. He isn’t here.”

Sigurd grew impatient. “Well then, where the hell is he?”

“Even if I knew, you really think I’d tell you that? You are as stupid as you look.” Gorm brought his attention back to Eivor and smirked, not entirely finished with him just yet.

“It’s a pity, Eivor. My father actually wanted to keep Thora alive. She was rather valuable, after all. Could’ve made for a useful hostage. Not to mention that there are many slavers out there willing to give up a handful of silver for someone like that.”

The man rested his battle-axe on his shoulder. “But you know what? I tire of these games. I’m sick of going back and forth with your clan, and frankly, I don’t give a shit about what my father has to say.” He gestured to Thora’s body. “Consider this your only warning, Raven-Tamer. Tell your clans to back down, or else, Thora won’t be the only one with a broken neck when this war is over.”

Eivor glowered at him, his gaze wide open with an unbridled rage. “It’s too late for that, Gorm. You murdered my family. Your people burnt down my home. Our village lies in ashes because of you.” He tightened his grip on his axe. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing more than another corpse standing in my way.”

Raising his arm in the air, Eivor didn’t even give Gorm a chance to react before he hurled his weapon across the room, aiming straight for the other man’s head.

Before the axe could make contact though, Gorm quickly ducked under the trajectory and charged forward, signaling his men to follow suit. In the meantime, Eivor whipped out the spare axe hanging from his back and lunged at them, completely devoid of the grief that had crippled him mere moments ago.

As for Sigurd, he focused on taking down the other two warriors and instantly bashed the butt of his sword against one of their helms, attempting to knock off the piece of armor. He swung the lengthy blade into the man’s abdomen, and forcefully slammed him against the wall. The brutish viking struggled in Sigurd’s grip and tried to shove him away, but was quickly silenced when the prince jabbed his sword into the crack sitting above his collar.

For a brief moment, the warrior choked on the blood that came spurting from the wound and jerked like a fish out of water, but swiftly fell into death’s embrace once Sigurd sealed the kill. The prince allowed the lifeless man to collapse to the floor, and within a heartbeat, he was already hunting down the second man.

Meanwhile, Gorm and Eivor found themselves in a heated fight to the death and practically threw each other around the room, doing whatever they could to gain the upper hand. Their axes clashed together in a storm of vicious attacks, and if it weren’t for the cramped space of the dungeon’s cold walls, Eivor would’ve already tackled his opponent directly to the floor.

To Gorm’s surprise though, Thora’s death hadn’t hindered the Wolf-Kissed nearly as much as he expected. The strength behind each of his swings was fueled by a fervent sense of vigor, and if anything, he would’ve said that her loss only empowered him further.

There was a deadly layer of venom coating the edges of his sharp stare, and in the shadows, Eivor fought more akin to a beast than a man. His glare pierced through the darkness like a torch in the dead of night, and within seconds, he had already pummeled his way through Gorm’s wavering defense.

“You should’ve never laid your hands on Thora...” Eivor said through clenched teeth. “I’ll gut you for what you’ve done.”

With one powerful blow, the young man slammed his axe downwards and bashed Gorm’s weapon out of his grip, leaving him defenseless. Afterwards, he kicked the viking down to the ground and towered over his writhing body, preparing to land one final strike.

He took a handful of Gorm’s tangled hair and violently yanked his head up from the floor, positioning his blade right underneath the chin. Just before he could cut the flesh however, Sigurd’s voice came booming across the room, bringing Eivor to a sudden halt.

“Wait!” The prince exclaimed, reaching an arm out. “Don’t kill him...!”

Eivor shot a glance at him, his eyes still wide with fury. “Why not?”

Sigurd stepped over the corpses of the warriors he just slew, still somewhat worn out from the fight.

“We can make use of him. He’s the only one who can lead us to Kjotve. If he dies, we’ll be left in the dark.”

The young man was silent with reluctance, causing Sigurd to walk closer to him.

“Eivor...” he said, attempting to calm him down, “I know your heart bleeds for your sister, but we need Gorm alive. Without him, we’ll never find Kjotve on time. Think about this.”

“If it weren’t for this bacraut--” Eivor fired back, shaking the man in his grasp, “Thora would still be here! She would still be alive! We could’ve... we could’ve saved her. We could’ve brought her back home.”

Sigurd’s tone sank with empathy. “...I know, Eivor. I know. And he will pay for it. I promise you. But right now, vengeance will get us nowhere. The only way we’re ever going to bring this war to an end is if we strike at the core itself. We need to find Kjotve, and we need to do it quickly. We can’t give him time to recuperate.”

The young man was quiet in return, but Sigurd could tell he was listening. His actions were restrained by a leash of hesitation, and the fires of his rage had dimmed into nothing but dying embers.

“...Fine.” Eivor finally murmured. “Have it your way.” He threw a fist into Gorm’s face, knocking the man out cold.

Sigurd let out a breath of relief and made his way to Eivor’s side, unsure of what to say from here.

“You did the right thing, love.” He reassured, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll send someone to fetch Gorm. We’ll tie the bastard up and bring him back to Bjornheimr. In the meantime...” Sigurd peered at Thora’s body, “...let’s get your sister down from there. She deserves a proper funeral.”

Eivor said nothing in response and simply slunk away from the unconscious warrior, drifting over to his fallen axe. He retrieved the weapon from the floor and wandered to the mechanism holding Thora in the air, carving through its taut rope with his blade.

Just after a few firm slices, the rope snapped in two and slithered free from the system keeping it in place, causing Thora’s body to plummet onto the rough stone.

She fell with a solid thud, and landed in a position that made it look as if she were only sleeping. Meanwhile, Eivor plodded sluggishly towards his deceased sister, entirely drained of any willpower he once carried.

“Thora,” he whispered, kneeling down beside her, “...I’m so sorry.”

Sigurd stayed by Gorm’s body, watching the tragic scene unfold. He never had the chance to speak with Thora other than a few scattered conversations, but even then, the heartache in Eivor’s voice was enough to plant sorrow within him.

He remembered well what the loss of a loved one felt like. Despite having seen over twenty winters pass since then, Sigurd hadn’t forgotten how desolate the world was after his mother departed from this realm.

Everything felt pointless for a time. It took him months to find any motivation to see his life to its end, and even longer to accept the grim reality of the absence in his family. It wasn’t until he was a young man that Sigurd was finally able to move on from his grief, and to this day, he still experienced occasional bouts of loneliness.

He couldn’t imagine how Eivor must have felt. Not only was he mourning the loss of his sister, he was also battling with the guilt of not finding her on time. He never had the opportunity to say goodbye or wish her well, and if the horrors of war had taught Sigurd anything, it was that guilt often proved to be more torturous than any enemy out there. He just wished he knew how to help.

“Eivor?” Sigurd said softly, approaching the other man. He knelt on the floor beside Eivor, trying to provide him some amount of solace. “I’m... I’m sorry. This is...” he let out a deep sigh, “...this is unforgivable.”

His lover cradled Thora’s head in his lap, running a comforting hand through her hair.

“She saved me from Kjotve,” Eivor recalled, “when I was just a boy. While everyone else fell to his blade, she was the one to pull me out from the fire. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t even be here. I owed her... everything. And yet, I repaid her with nothing.”

The Wolf-Kissed’s shoulders slouched in despair. “Thora doesn’t deserve to be in Helheim. I do.”

Sigurd leaned closer to Eivor, hoping to part the stormy clouds looming over his somber gaze.

“Don’t lay down your shield just yet, Eivor. We haven’t been defeated. We still have a chance to make this right. This war isn’t over.”

The younger man scoffed. “And when will it be over, hm? When Kjotve kills the rest of my family? When he kills you? When does it end?”

“I... I don’t know, Eivor.” Sigurd answered sincerely. “This tapestry that the Nornir have woven remains a mystery to me. But know this...” he looked his lover in the eye, “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that Kjotve doesn’t walk away from his crimes. I’ll find the traitor who’s hiding amongst our clans, and I’ll get the answers we need from Gorm. Even if I have to beat them out of him. Thora will be avenged.”

Eivor let out a shaky breath, attempting to conceal his forlorn nature. The last thing he wanted was to break down in front of Sigurd -- especially in the middle of a battlefield -- but he could feel his shell withering away with each passing second.

“Thank you, Sigurd.” He replied plainly. “You’ve always been there for me.”

The prince laid a delicate hand on the back of Eivor’s head, pulling him into a gentle hug as he pecked a kiss above his brow. “And I always will be.”

Disrupting the stillness, a clump of footsteps suddenly began to echo wildly off the stone walls, prompting Sigurd to separate their momentary embrace. He shifted his focus to the staircase on the opposite side of the room and took hold of his sword, bracing himself for anything.

Much to his relief however, he saw Ulfar hurrying into the scene with a small party of men in tow, attentively searching for the jarl’s missing daughter. His forehead glistened with the beads of freshly broken sweat, and splatters of blood could be seen staining both his axe and armor.

“Sigurd! Eivor!” He called out upon noticing the two men. “Have you found--”

The raider fell into an abrupt silence, taking a moment to process exactly what he was looking at.

“...Is that...?”

The prince gave him a dour expression. “...Thora. Yes.” He dragged a hand down his face. “We were too late. Gorm killed her.”

Ulfar blinked out of shock, completely taken aback by the horrid news.

“Oh, no...” he murmured under his breath. “When did this happen?”

“She was killed long before we arrived,” Sigurd explained. “Kjotve knew we were coming.”

The older man furrowed his brow in anger, seemingly unsurprised to hear the report. “...Shit. Where is Kjotve now?”

Sigurd shrugged. “No idea. He fled even before we set foot on his shores. The only person who could lead us to him is Gorm.”

“And where is he?”

The prince gestured to his body. “Over there. Don’t worry, he’s not dead. Just unconscious. I wanted to bring him back to Bjornheimr. See what he knows. He claimed to have no knowledge about his father’s whereabouts, but I don’t believe it for a second.”

“A wise choice. My men will take him to the longship. If this bastard has any information on Kjotve, we’ll get it. As for Thora...” Ulfar’s voice wavered slightly, “just look after her. Okay? I dread to see how Arngeir and Randvi will react to this, but we need to give her a proper burial. It’s the least we can do.”

Sigurd nodded. “We’ll take care of her.”

“Good. Then we should leave this damned fortress as soon as possible. I’ve seen enough of this frozen hell to last a lifetime.” Ulfar turned to address his raiders. “Men, gather any of our people you can find and return to the ship. Halvard, Osmund, I want you two to handle Gorm. Make sure he returns to Bjornheimr alive.”

“Of course, Ulfar.”

“Then let’s get moving. I imagine our jarl will be awaiting the news. Best we tell him sooner than later.” He took a glance over his shoulder, peering at Eivor. “...You lot go on ahead. I’m not quite finished here yet.”

Swiftly making their way out of the dungeon’s stuffy interior, Ulfar’s men returned to the ships and brought Gorm along with them, dragging him across the floor as if he were no more than a sack of meat.

As for Ulfar, the weathered warrior sheathed his axe and calmly approached Eivor, crouching down on the floor in front of him. He asked Sigurd to give them some privacy with a simple tilt of the head, and assured the man that he would take care of their mutual friend.

At first, the prince seemed tentative to abandon his lover’s side. Eivor was clearly still in a state of distress after all, and he didn’t much like the idea of leaving him in the hands of someone else. But after a moment or two, Sigurd decided to grant the young man some space and quietly removed himself from the dungeon, eager to get a breath of fresh air.

Meanwhile, Ulfar stayed behind and kept the distraught viking company, suddenly thinking back to when he found Eivor at the beach on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. Much like that day, the boy appeared to be lost in a labyrinth fashioned out of his own thoughts, and his eyes seemed to bleed with a profound darkness that even Ulfar didn’t know how to fend off.

It pained the old raider to see the man like this again. He had hoped that by the time Eivor reached his age, Kjotve’s cruelties would’ve been a thing of the past. He hoped that Eivor would’ve been able to start his adulthood in a world of prosperity, and yet, here they were, knee-deep in a storm that was only growing larger. It felt as if Fimbulwinter itself had settled into Norway’s seas, and the icy winds seemed to be biting their flesh harder than ever before.

Thora’s death had left an irreparable tear in the threads of Midgard, and frankly, Ulfar didn’t know how they were going to recover from this.

“Eivor,” he finally said, “...it’s time to go.”

The Wolf-Kissed kept his gaze on Thora’s face, unable to even make eye contact with the other man. He could hear everything the raider was saying to him, and yet, his mind remained stranded in an ocean of fog.

“...What am I going to do, Ulfar?” He asked, his tone flat with emptiness. “Where do we go from here?”

Ulfar sighed morosely and stared at the floor, weeping internally at the sight of Thora’s corpse.

“The only way we can go.” He answered. “Forward.” He paused for a second, trying to maintain his composure. “I... I am going to miss Thora dearly. I watched her grow up, just like I watched you. Seeing her die before me -- it’s always been one of my worst fears.”

Ulfar knotted his hands together, carrying on with his train of thought. “But I knew Thora, and I know she wouldn’t have wanted this to weaken us. She wanted Kjotve dead as much as the rest of our clan, if not more. The best thing we can do for her now is ensure that she doesn’t die in vain.”

The raider gripped the sides of Eivor’s arms, holding him firmly in place.

“...Never let go of your axe, drengr. Not even in death. We are not broken yet. Kjotve will fall.”

Ulfar rose to his feet and beckoned the young man to do the same, ready to put this dreadful place behind them. The battle outside had finally died down after what felt like an eternity, and it sounded as if most of Kjotve’s men had been slain by the Bear and Raven Clans.

Though, of course, the enemies they faced here were only a portion of the man’s entire army. Ulfar imagined that the rest of them were protecting their cowardly leader on some remote island, and shielding him from the dangers of the world until his foes stumbled upon their doorstep.

But right now, he had no desire to spare another thought on the morbid subject. He was already drained due to the anchor of grief now weighing him down, and his heart pounded at the idea of informing Arngeir about his daughter’s brutal demise.

They were going to have a hefty funeral to prepare for once they got back home, and Ulfar could only hope that the traitor would soon join their fallen warriors on the pyres.

“Come, little cub,” he said to Eivor. “Your father’s waiting for us.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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ariainstars · 4 years ago

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Congratulations, We Fell for Another Love Bombing or Thank You, Disney, You Did It Again

Sigh. Luke Skywalker is back. And Din Djarin and his child had to say goodbye. I never thought I would curse and say “Oh no!” when Luke appeared in that fateful corridor.

I wonder why the Disney studios are doing this - trying to "make up” for the oh-so criticized sequels, I suppose?

The Jedi have made their time. It was shown and proven over and over again that their attitude is wrong and needs to change, and Luke was the last of the old school Jedi. Again, a Force-sensitive child is all but kidnapped by a Jedi: he obviously did not like to go. Mando is no longer the hero of the story, he was stripped of his agency and all of his personal choices were questioned and valued for null and void. But the Dark Saber is in his hands now, so he’s the heir to the throne of Mandalore I guess. Like he ever wanted that.

This show, which grew to be so well-beloved in only a few episodes, now is not “The Mandalorian” any more. Its new title is “Luke’s Skywalker’s Comeback”. Hardcore fans may be out of their minds with joy, but for us, who admired Mando both as a badass hero and as a father figure and loved the dynamics between him and Grogu, the whole purpose of the show is destroyed. And here I naively had thought The Rise of Skywalker was bad enough to teach the studios not to repeat its mistakes.

~~~ more under the cut ~~~

Star Wars ought to be a fairy tale. It is and always was one. I can understand that the prequels had to end in a tragedy, we all knew that from the start, but why the sequels? And now, why must this generally acclaimed and beloved tv show again appease hardcore fans of old with Luke coming to save the day, cancelling in a matter of minutes what the story had built up within two entire seasons - the relationship of the two protagonists, heart and core of the narrative, as it had been with Rey and Ben Solo? And when both of them had their relationship just getting started - Rey and Ben kissing, Din calling Grogu by his name and the latter seeing him and touching his face? Why make Rey a queen without her king, and Din a father without a son?

Again, a Force-user is denied having a home: „Jedi training” matters more. By Luke of all people, the guy who never was trained in the first place (only very briefly), who except for a few lessons with Obi-Wan and Yoda was self-taught in the Force, and never understood that his strength lay with his compassion and his connection with other people, not with his alleged „superpowers”.

Think back to how Anakin, Luke and Rey were before they met the Jedi: unaware of their powers, compassionate, idealistic, brave. The Jedi mindset tainted their characters and lives, making them believing that they are (or have to be) untouchable and invincible, compelling them to live for duty instead of love, condemning them to a lifetime of loneliness. Will the Jedi never learn?

Though I practically grew up with the classic movies, I loved The Last Jedi; I can accept that Luke failed, and also that Han and Leia did. Nobody is perfect, and the Jedi mindset as well as the universally accepted idea that „Jedi” is a synonym for infallible saint-like hero was wrong in the first place, else the Empire never would have risen. Making Luke not the cavalry who came to save the day - until the battle on Crait, that is - but a man who failed and picked himself up again was much more meaningful, and I know not a few fans who felt inspired by this. Luke had saved his father choosing love over power, not the contrary. Some fans just never get it. To appease them, why not simply give him a new storyline of his own, instead of making him intrude in other Star Wars related shows? Why stop the new stories in their tracks just to bring him back?

Instead of seeing Luke as the grand kickass hero in a tv show that never had anything to do with him until now, it would have been more to the purpose to finally shed light on the thirty years between his father’s and his nephew’s death, to explain us where the Jedi and the Skywalker-Organa-Solo family failed to make such an outcome possible - the granddaughter of Palpatine taking over with their own blessing. There must have been a huge build-up between the end of the original saga and the fateful night at the temple when Luke briefly panicked looking into his nephew’s mind. Many fans still are convinced that „Kylo Ren just chose to be bad” because we hardly know how the relationship between these two was in the first place. (A very easy plot twist would e.g. have been Snoke warning Ben that his uncle sooner or later would turn on him, frightened by his power. The fulfilment of that prophecy would have made the night at the temple much more impactful.)

I understand that the studios want to tease us, to make us watch the other shows, too. But honestly, I’m getting tired of feeling duped. Tired of getting attached to new heroes to have their purpose smashed just so the Star Wars dudebro fans can sleep quietly at night because „some Jedi will take care of it”. First the characters from the sequels, now the ones from The Mandalorian. You get to love the new characters, you root for them to find happiness or at least some closure, and then, at the last moment, poof!, the hero of old comes back and the story development stops right there.

It is not right and it never was for the Jedi to take Force-sensitive children away from home, to enforce „you have to become a Jedi, like it or not” on them, to teach them not to have attachments, to make them focus on the Light Side thereby bringing the Force out of its much-needed balance. While Ahsoka saw that Grogu has formed a strong attachment to Din Djarin, Luke obviously did not, or he did not care. The irony is that he always wanted a father, and knows the pain of losing a father you’ve just found.

The Mandalorian felt like a consolation after Episode IX, a blessing for the fans for whom heart and soul are more interesting than nostalgia and „Jedi superheroes”. Now it’s just another kick in the guts. It’s painful and embarrassing to get to love characters so much, to get invested in their story so deeply, and then to realize again that they seem to mean nothing in the shade of the heroes of old. Ben Solo died young and miserable and Din Djarin and Grogu can now, I suppose, be miserable too. Can someone please explain to me why after the classics, no Star Wars film or show had an uplifting ending any more? With the possible exception of Solo, which was a nice filler but not a really important storyline. (I do not count Episodes I and II, they officially had a happy ending but it was tainted by the knowledge of what was to come.)

Fans are not blind. We saw the parallels between Darth Vader and Din Djarin as well as the differences - both being cool and tough but the latter not disdaining to be a caring father at the same time. The entire show lived from the dynamics between the gruff but kind bounty hunter and the innocent-looking powerful child, ever from the first episode. Two years of build-up for nothing, as it was with the four years of the sequels. Mando has to relinquish Grogu, Rey loses Ben. What was all that for? Both Mando and Rey are fighters, they have done nothing else their entire lives. What is to become of them now that they have nothing to fight for any more, nor anyone to live for? Except staying on a planet that is foreign to them and, for all they know, inhabitable or at least inhospitable?

With Rey and Ben Solo, the situation was different: she had proven good intentions but bad attitude (arrogance, violence, judgement) over and over, unable to deny her heritage, and even impaled her „antagonist” once while he was only defending himself. He had been the head of a criminal organization for years, and had committed patricide. Of course there are nuances to these characters and I still believe that they would have deserved another chance; I understand however that would have been unfitting to let the sequels end giving them a happy ending.

But in the case of Din Djarin, a man of honor, who has made friends and brought peace wherever he went throughout the galaxy? Grogu, the last surviving padawan of the old Jedi temple, who saved both his and Greef Karga’s life despite the danger for himself? What did they do to deserve being ripped apart like that?

So, all I can say: thank you, you did it again. And, once more, just before Christmas. I wish at least these depressing endings would be released at some other time.

I would dearly want to see a galaxy that finally learned from its faults, where family and attachments and Balance and free choice are not contrary to being a Jedi. I am in my late forties and I’m beginning to give up hope that I will live to see it. By now I am wondering whether George Lucas himself will live to see it.

I always loved Luke. He is one of my favorite heroes. But now he’s become an insensitive know-it-all who suffered from his own daddy issues to the point that he almost died crying out to his father for help, yet did not learn not to separate fathers from children and vice versa and, on the contrary, is doing it over and over again. He did not even tell Mando his name, or where he could reach him. We don’t have a clue as to if, when and how the Clan of Two will meet again.

I get it that since this show is set five years Return of the Jedi, it would have been difficult to ignore Luke’s existence altogether. And of course, we can rest assured that Luke will do his best for Grogu. But still: he has made his time. I wanted to see the new heroes going their own way, not hanging on the sleeves of the former generation. Mando is a man of honor, he had promised to bring Grogu to his own kind and he relinquished him despite his own wishes. (Not to mention that technically, since he identifies as a Mandalorian, by being a Jedi Luke is his enemy.) Why did Luke have to take the child away? His greatest strength always was that he was first and foremost himself and only in the second place a Jedi. What became of his trademark compassion?

Before The Mandalorian, we have never seen a healthy and working father-son relationship in the saga. It was incredibly refreshing and heart-warming to see these two traveling through the galaxy and living through adventures together; also, contrarily to Yoda, Grogu saw a lot of the bad things happening in the galaxy with his own eyes, which certainly was good for his character development.

But in the end, both he and his „father” did not go anywhere. Like Rey in Episode IX, they found a) power and b) a surrogate place, but neither got what was actually his heart’s wish - a home. I can’t understand why. Deliberate cruelty? We never knew whether Han and Leia and Ben felt how painful it was to break up their little family for the sake of „Jedi training”. You bet Din and Grogu did feel that pain and loss.

Both as a person with a heart and a brain and an almost lifelong Star Wars fan I am sickened by the readiness of the studios to end all that this well-made show had built up, for the appeasement of Jedi worshippers who just don’t want to see that the Jedi mindset needs urgently to change. It can’t be that difficult to renew them for the better; there is no necessity to erase the Jedi completely and there is nothing bad with making them grow wiser and stronger by finally understanding and accepting the importance of attachments and family ties. Yes, I realize that being a father also means learning how to let go; but here we are speaking of a literal child, not of a young adult who chose his own way in life.

I thought that George Lucas knew why he sold his franchise to the Disney studios, given their tradition in telling stories about family and friendship. This development is not a triumph, it is unworthy both of the studios and of the entire Star Wars saga. I’m tired of producers bowing down before fans who see every shred of the saga through „Jedi are always right”-tinted glasses respectively who value coolness over compassion even though it always was the saga’s central message.

Whatever happens in Season 3, countless fans will only be watching it asking, „Where’s Luke?” If Grogu should choose to join Mando again, everybody will be like, „But how can he want to leave Luke Skywalker of all people?” Some already see Grogu die prematurely, killed by the oh-so-bad guy Kylo Ren, for no other reason than to just to further prove how evil he is. In which case both Ben Solo and Grogu will have lived and died for nothing except for leaving a lot of heartbreak behind.

There must be another and better way to honor the legacy of both Luke Skywalker and the original trilogy than to think up new heroes and then destroy their purpose for the sake of old times’ glory. Lucas himself had said that Star Wars is basically for twelve-year-olds. It seems not: it’s for the fans who were twelve years old forty years ago, when the first movies hit theatres.

There are enough voices crying out for the sequels to be erased from canon. Who knows? This may be the next step into the past instead of the future. The sequels were hinting at a better future (Balance), Grogu was, too (family). But the grand past is so reassuring. The sequels tried to tell the audience to grow up and learn to do without their heroes, to see that even they were flawed and that the new heroes could grow beyond them. Fie on them, said the hardcore fans. Now it’s the turn of the younger generation, who got to know and love the saga with the sequels or The Mandalorian, to be like „WTF”.

Rogue One also had been a huge disappointment to me. Not that I found it badly made, but I went into a depressive mood for three days for the same reason: I did not like that I had grown so attached to all of these characters only to see all of them die. The infamous Darth Vader scenes and the design with the huge hints at the classic movies were no consolation. Nostalgia does not make me happy. Heart does. Rogue One, the sequels and The Mandalorian were all, in the end, deprived of all human feeling except loss and regret and many, many thoughts about what might have been.

The Mandalorian was an excellent story on its own. It did not need Luke Skywalker. It is and ought to be Din Djarin’s story, who lost or gave up everything because he was afraid to lose the child: and now he did. It’s not comforting that he lost him to the alleged Good Guy. Luke of course won’t turn a hair on Grogu’s head, but he can’t offer him a home, we already know that. Ahsoka saw the attachment between the two and she knows the dangers of it; Luke does not know what drove his father to his terrible fate. If the sequels remain canon, then we already know that Luke will not allow his pupils having and keeping healthy attachments. And that does not promise well for the child’s future.

Unless the studios commit the madness of officially erasing the sequels and starting the saga anew, we can only hope that the child will not stay with Luke for long since it’s a good five years before he will start his own Jedi temple. Maybe he will die of a broken heart, poor little guy. And Din Djarin might become the new ruler of Mandalore, though sad and alone. But who cares: Luke is back. Please: I did not subscribe to Disney+ wanting to see Schwarzenegger movies. The lonesome hero can ride into the sunset for all I care, out of sight and of mind. Star Wars’ greatest strength always was its heart.

My own take was that Grogu is meant to be a healer, and since Luke is not, there is no way he can teach him this particular skill in the Force. Anakin was a pilot and a mechanic, Luke and Ben also were pilots. None of them were Jedi by choice. Grogu is older than Luke and he was already trained at the old Jedi temple: he’s more likely to be a teacher to Luke than the other way around. Grogu as the first Force-user who values attachment and family over power and Jedi training, that would indeed have been a new hope. This backpedaling is shallow and useless. Even if Luke sends Grogu back to Din Djarin, this won’t teach him not to take a child away from its home, since only a few years later he will do the same thing to his nephew. (Although it would admittedly be an interesting plot point to see a small Ben Solo interacting with Grogu for a while.)

Please give us back The Mandalorian the way it was, with its characters and dynamics. The themes and messages of The Last Jedi already were almost all aborted in The Rise of Skywalker; we didn’t sign up on Disney+ to see the exact same thing happen with The Mandalorian. I for my part am fed up with this kind of love bombing followed by a quick and coldblooded let-down. Star Wars may be a cult, but it need not be the kind of cult where you get hooked and then unwittingly follow a carrot hanging before your eyes. I thought the exaggerated Jedi cult was mostly made by the fans: the studios did not need to jump on this ship. This is not the Way.

Now everything I feared is flaring up again - fans jubilating because “the Jedi are taking matters in hand” instead of accepting the failure of the Jedi mindset at last; and even insisting that since things are going so well, all Disney needs to do is to cancel the sequels from canon and everybody can be happy again.

Please, please, give this tormented galaxy a chance to heal at last. We don’t need Luke Skywalker to save the day by killing all the bad guys. We don’t need the oh-so-powerful and perfect Jedi. We need faith in the Force. We need a home. Don’t take it away from us again. Thank you.

P.S. If we see Luke again in Season 3, at least give the role to a live actor. That digital “rejuvenation” made him look wooden. Luke’s best trait, apart from his compassion, always was his smile.

P.P.S. What’s with Boba Fett claiming Jabba’s throne? I thought Jabba had a son. What in the galaxy happened to him?

P.P.P.S. I don’t mind kickass women, but honestly, I’m getting somehow tired of them. What became of the ladies of Star Wars, the diplomats, the good queens, the loving mothers, the accurate librarians, who contribute to the galaxy without killing (or hurting) anyone? I’m feeling kind of underrepresented here...

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prancing-uboot · 4 years ago

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Satsuma Dads Timeline

You know how Golden Kamuy is an awesome manga full of amazing (and super-hot) characters and a great main storyline? So what do I do with it? Naturally I obsess over those two old gremlins: Koito Heiji and Hanazawa Koujirou the fathers of Second Lieutenant Koito and Ogata.

It's probably the most niche pairing ever, and I thought it was just me fixating on that one panel where Tsurumi mentioned they were close friends from Satsuma. But the more I read about the history of Satsuma and the times they lived in, the more I’m becoming convinced that there’s so much of their story written between the lines and that their relationship and tumultuous past is what actually caused and keeps together most of the GK plot. But nobody else seems to see it!

So what do I do with that? I spent my nights in front of my crazywall of historical research, trying to recreate an entire universe of events 50-years before the gold plot starts, just to be able to present to you:

The Satsuma Dads Timeline

Why you Should Care for Heiji and Koujirou

~1850

Koujirou and Heiji* were born around 1850** in Kagoshima.

Heiji might have been older then Koujirou, but not more then 5 years. They were both sons of high ranking samurai (noble bloodline), serving the Shimazu clan.

* Most likely they went by other names in their youth and then changed them a bazillion times to make stuff confusing, but let's skip that.

** That would make them around the same age as Tougou Heihachiro and Nogi Maresuke ** - the chief players in the Russo-Japanese war for the navy and army. Both share a lot of biographical motives with Koujirou and Heiji and Noda might have modeled them a bit after them so I'll include the parallels where possible. I'm not sure Nogi even exists in the GK universe or was he replaced by Koujirou completely. Tougou was recently confirmed to exist. He was also a Kagoshima-boy, and grew up in the same circles so it's impossible that he and Heiji didn't know each other from childhood.

1856-65

Koujirou and Heiji train in the same gochu in Kajiya-cho*. Gochu was a Satsuma-specific education system, relying on small neighborhood study groups in which the older samurai spent a part of their time teaching the younger everything they knew. Starting from penmanship and Confucian doctrines and ending with swordsmanship, and the unstoppable Jigen-ryu.

Teenage Heiji develops a Koito-crush*. on Saigo Takamori (20 years his senior) and follows him around like a lost puppy. Koujirou makes fun of him, but in reality he feels a bit jealous.

* Kajya-cho was a Kagoshima district known now as "Home town of Revitalization" as most of the influential Satsuma leaders of the Meiji Revolution came from there. That also meant that they directly taught the younger generations as part of the gochu. For example Tougou also came from that area. I'm not that sure Heiji and Koujirou were actually from Kajiya-cho, but it being 3km downhill from the Nanshu Cemetary would fit in nicely to the place where Tsurumi and Otonoshin first met so it's likely.

** Gochu was a completely male oriented environment, so homoerotic relations bloomed and were even encouraged (think ancient Greece), hence the term "Satsuma habit" was later used as the synonym of homosexuality in Japan. But for them then it was just a natural thing they sometimes did, and not really an orientation. Koito Otonoshin crushing on Tsurumi might be a bit old fashioned but it's just a Satsuma thing, so of course his dad is cool with that.

1866-67

Both go to Kyoto to serve Hisamitsu Shimazu and there they experience the tension of the Bakumatsu period first hand. They soak up the patriotic moods of the Sonno-Joi fraction, they hear of the the assassinations by the Shinsengumi, they feel a revolution brewing. Being a hot-headed youth in those times made keeping out of trouble very difficult.

1868-69

The Boshin War breaks out. Satsuma, Choshu and Tosa fight to abolish the Tokugawa shogunate. Heiji and Koujirou join up and dispite their young age are given officer commissions*. Coming from a long line of Satsuma’s military commanders it is what they were raised up to do. This war however is nothing like the stories they grew up on. Instead of swords it relies more on modern weapons guns and artillery. What was supposed to be a short battle with the Shogun's forces, turns into a lengthy nationwide campaign of crashing shogunate loyalists long after the Shogun himself resigned. Koujiro and Heiji fight side by side and survive all the way to see the end of it in Hakodate.

* Only the oficers wore the super cool Satsuma black koguma wigs and I definitely do need fanart of that.

1870

Heiji and Koujiro come out of the war victorious. Most of the positions in the new government are taken by Satsuma and Choshu men, so practically any career path is open to them. Koujiro stays with the Imperial Guard while Heiji joins the Imperial Naval Academy in Tsukiji, Tokyo. They compete for the most ridiculous facial hair* and spend their off nights “drinking green liqueurs under red lanterns”

Ogata's grandfather fought** on the other side for the Mito clan (the last shogun was from the Mito-Tokugawa branch). After the defeat his family falls into poverty. They sell their daughter to an okiya because they cannot support her ***.

* The Haitourei edict from 1871 allowed samurai to cut of their chonmage and encouraged them to experiment with western haircuts.

** I’m guessing he was active in the Boshin by the fact that he had an old gun lying around.

*** This "Ogata's mom comes from a fallen samurai family" theory has been going around but I'm not super sure about the time frame here. Usually maiko get promoted to geisha when they're 20-21. That means to already be a geisha when she gave birth to Hyakunosuke she must have been at least 12 when she was sold. That's quite late for a geisha to start her education. Or I might be wrong about Hyakunosuke's birth date, but I'd really like it to be 1879, so I'm in a pickle here.

1873

Heiji finally finds the guts to propose to Yuki, his Kagoshima sweetheart. They marry and a son is born to them - Heinojou *.

Koujirou's family chooses a wife for him **. She's from a good family, likely Choshu to have some useful connections. Heiji comes to their wedding in his fancy navy uniform to congratulate them and say goodbye. He'll be going to study abroad in the France ***. Koujirou feels like it's his funeral wake.

* Heinojou's birthdate is the first solid date we have for them from the canon, so I'm basing the whole “born in the 1850s” on the fact that the expected age of a man to marry was their early 20s.

** Arranged marriage was the most commonplace in Japan then. The families picked the brides because they were most likely to spend more time with her then the husband, taking care of the house and such.

*** In 1871 Tougou went to study abroad with 14 other cadets to Greenwich Naval Collage and that would fit so nicely. The problem is that they went 1871-1878 and Heinojou was born in 1873 *shakes fist*. There were also individual exchange programs though and since in canon Heiji is mentioned to have some french friends I figured he was sent to France.

~1876

Koujirou is stationed in Tokyo, while his wife stays in Kagoshima, taking care of the family home. He begins an affair* with Tome**, a geisha from Asaskusa. With Heiji gone she's the only person he can open his heart to.

After abolisment of the clan system and privileges of the samurai, the dissatisfied Satsuma samurai quit the Imperial Guard en-masse and go back to Kagoshima to gather around Saigo Takamori and brew a rebelion. Koujiro - by then a major - is faced with a choice: to go back with his childhood friends, or to stay loyal to the government. He chooses his career.

* I'm guessing he must have been married already when the thing started, because marrying a geisha wasn't that unheard of and wouldn't really cause a scandal or hinder his career. All three of the Meiji prime ministers Hirobumi Ito, Taro Katsura and Yamagata Aritomo ended up marrying geisha. So Tome being a geisha was not a problem - Koujiro already having a wife was.

** Tome is a random name that Ogata used in his Sugimoto self insert fic. I love the headcanon that it's his mom's name. Because of course he makes everything personal.

1877

In January the Seinan War breaks out. Koujirou fights against his clansmen and his former war comrades *. By September most of them are dead. He is there at Shiroyama where Saigo makes his last stand. Heiji is never going to forgive him that.

When he comes back to Tokyo, Tome doesn't ask, she understands and prepares him angler nabe while he sulks.

* Koujirou's situation is by no means an unusual one. Many of the Satsuma samurai landed lucrative jobs under the new administration and didn't share the dissatisfaction of their disenfranchised clansmen. Even Saigo's own younger brother Judo stayed as a lieutenant-general in the Imperial Guard.

1878

In May, Okubou Toshimichi, the lord of home affairs, who took personal command of surpressing Saigo's rebelion is assasinated, branded in Satsuma as traitor.

Koujiro is not welcome in Kagoshima anymore*. His wife moves to Tokyo to avoid harassment. Keeping his affair with Tome is becoming more difficult. Especially when he learns that Tome is pregnant **

In December Heiji comes back to pick up the pieces.

* Both Okubo and Saigo Judo moved their families to Tokyo because of this situation, so I'm guessing that was a thing. They received some backlash from their compatriots but eventually things normalized (for Judo at least, because Okubo was, you know, slashed up dead in an alley). By 1898 Saigo was acknowledged by the government as a tragic hero and bygones were bygones. Yet Heiji still talks with the Satsuma dialect, while Koujiro doesn’t even have a trace of it left.I wonder if he still used it when talking to Heiji.

** Geisha were not supposed to have sex with their patrons. The fact that she chose to give birth to Koujirou's son tells that she dared to hope that he'll at least acknowledge him.

1879

In January Hyakunosuke is born*

* Ogata's birthdate is a shot in the dark. He could be anywhere between 1878 and 1883. I just really like the idea that he was born right into the middle of such a chaos.

EDIT: GoldenKamuyHunting pointed out that Ogata had to be born after 1881, since Noda placed him as Older than Usami. This ruins the timeline a bit, and I’ll have to think of the way to reorder it to fit. For now, treat the 1879 as canon-defying :(

~1881

After pressure from his parents and from Heiji, Koujirou comes clean and learns to make his official family work. Koujirou's legitimate son, Yuusaku is born*.

From now on he effectively ghosts Tome. Her mental health** begins to waver. Tome quits being a geisha and moves back to her parents in Ibaraki ***.

* Also a shot in the dark. This would make him 23 when he died and 2 years younger than Ogata.

** Before the 20th century the white makeup geisha wore was made out of lead, making them more likely to develop lead poisoning, the first symptom of which is the decline of intelectual ability. Fun fact: lead gets passed down in breastmilk in quantities super-harmful for the baby, so if we go with the theory "Tome went crazy because of lead poisoning" than that would explain so much about Ogata...

*** This is likely due to her health, not due to giving birth. She could have just sent Hyakunosuke to her parents and kept working. God knows how they made ends meet after that. Before they were be so poor that they had to sell their daughter. Now they were much older, she was sick and unable to work, and her child was another mouth to feed. Not to mention the cost geisha education was worse then US collage loans so she most likely had a large debt she barely started to repay. Was Koujiro at least decent enough to pay child-support? Oh god *realises* it was Heiji who was paying them, wasn’t it? *heart breaks*

1886

Heiji and Yuki's second son, Otonoshin is born, 13 years after the first. What's up with that, Heiji?

1887

Koujirou goes to Germany* to study military tactics.

Hyakunosuke (8) feeds his mother rat poison. Koujirou doesn't come to the funeral.

As a result Hyakunosuke is brought up by his grandparents alone. He likes his grandma. They might instill in him the same kind of dislike for the new government as in the case of Kadokura. They definitely install a dislike for his deadbeat dad.

* Japan sent most of the promising officers abroad to soak up the knowledge how to run a modern nation. The army was mostly modeled after Germany (the Japanese were impressed by their recent victory against France) so it's the safest bet that Koujirou went to study there sometime in his life. In 1887-88 Nogi and Soroku Kawakami were sent to Germany. So it still depends if Nogi exists in GK universe and Koujirou just tagged along with them, or are they completely interchangeable.

1888

A new division is formed in Hokkaido. Tasked with guarding the north and developing the land.

1889

Heinojou (16) passes the Naval Academy entry exams with highest marks, determined to follow the footsteps of his father.

1894-95

The first Sino-Japanese war breaks out.

Heiji and Heinojou take part in the Battle of Yalu River. Heinojou is stationed on the flagship Matsushima under admiral Ito Sukeyuki. Matsushima gets badly damaged. 57 men die (including three officers) and 54 more are wounded.

Heiji silently watches his son burning from his ship. Comes back a wreck of a man. Gets awarded a title of Baron under the kazoku system *.

No clue what Koujirou could have been doing then. It’s likely that he was part of the army that conquered Port Arthur (back than still called Lushunkou) the first time around in only 3 days **.

* I need to double-check that with the raws since I'm not sure Tsurumi calling him "lord" is meant to imply he had a noble title, or if it's just a honorific. Many of admirals had titles so it would be highly likely someone with a lineage and a service record like Heiji also got one.

** this experiance would make him a pefect choice for later leading the operation in 1904 so this would make a lot of sense, but it would also be a pretty heavy take, since that would mean he was present during the Port Arthur masacre. And as a senior officer too, so it’s hard to find any excuses for him if that was the case. Did witnessing the atrocities there influence his later opposition to the Japanese expansion into Manchuria? Was his instruction for Yuusaku not to kill anyone motivated by trying to protect his son from sharing his guilt?

1895

Tsurumi comes back from the war and joins the 7th (actually more like he’s demoted out of the 2nd). By then Koujirou is the head of the division *

* I’m guessing Tsurumi had to have enough time to work on him, to be able to learn all about the Koito family troubles and come up with the plan how to use them. Did he get into Koujirou’s confidence? Or was he just reading his private letters?

1900

Heiji stays in Kagoshima and spoils/neglects his second son. Tsurumi "accidentally" meets Otonoshin and they visit Saigo's and Heinojou's graves.

Later that year the whole Koito family moves to Hakodate and Heiji takes control of the Ominato torpedo division *.

* The Ikazuki was a new class of light destroyers specifically made not to repeat the tragedy of too large and too slow Matsushima. No wonder Heiji was willing to move across the country for that.There were 6 of them made in total. Cool factoid: One of those destroyers sunk after a crash with a civilian steamship off the coast of Hokkaido in 1909.

1902

Ogata (24) joins the army and specifically volunteers for the 7th division planning god-knows-what. By conscription he would have landed in the 2nd (Kantou region).

Koujirou doesn't acknowledge him. Tsurumi does.

The Great Hakodate kidnapping takes place. Koujiro sends his best intelligence officer from Tsukisappu to help his friend and keep things discreet. Afterwards Heiji learns to appreciate the son he has left.

Later that year Otonoshin passes the exam to join the Army acedemy.

Fresh out of the academy Yuusaku (21) joins the 7th division. His father, plagued with guilt and bad life choices instructs him not to kill people and not to sleep around.

Yuusaku meets Hyakunosuke. Hyakunosuke tries to get him to kill people and sleep around.

1904-05

The Russo-Japanese war.

In February the war starts with Japan launching night torpedo attacks on the Russian fleet stationed inside Port Arthur. Heiji leads the third destroyer squadron aboard the Sazanami*. They continue the attacks over the next months trying to impose a blockade. After the Battle of the Yellow Sea, the victorious Japanese Combined Fleet effectively traps the remaining Russian warships inside Port Arthur. The Russians can't get out, the Japanese can't get in. Heiji can only wait and watch as the Japanese Army struggles to capture Port Arthur by land.

Koujirou leaves the 7th division behind when he is promoted to a member of staff of General Nogi’s 3rd Army. They land in Incheon in April and reach Port Arthur in August to start the siege. It is a drawn out blood bath. After wasting tons of lives in pointless assaults, the Japanese realize quite late that the key to victory lies in capturing the 203 Hill overlooking the harbor. Koujirou is made chief of staff for this operation.

In October they get the news that the Russian Baltic Fleet has left Tallinn and is on its way to reinforce the besieged Pacific Fleet. The race starts. If Koujirou fails to capture the hill before the Baltic Fleet arrives, the Japanese Fleet will be annihilated, and Heiji along with it.

In November the 7th division arrives in Port Arthur. They don’t get special treatment from their former commander and they’re sent head first to the 203 Hill. They capture it on 5th December, only after the artillery stopped caring weather they hit their own or not**. From their new position they destroy the whole Pacific fleet.

The death toll is 80 000 soldiers. More than half of the 7th is gone. Among the fallen are second lieutenants Hanazawa Yuusaku and Nogi Yasusuke - general Nogi's only remaining son (the first one died earlier in the same war).***

Hyakunosuke thinks that the losses wouldn't have to be this high if they just had more snipers like him. But nobody listened.

* All of the Ikazuki-class destroyers were quite active during the war. I placed Heiji on the Sazanami just because there’s the most info about what she did and when.

** The winning strategy was implemented by Kodama Gentarou. He was sent to Port Arthur with the authority to replace Nogi. He had enough guts to sacrifice soldiers falling to friendly fire in one coordinated assault instead of bleeding them out by continuous suicidal frontal assaults. He didn't officially replace Nogi though, and he let him take the credit for the victory, because they were friends. It's a really cool story.

*** Interesingly enough Yasusuke, was also shot in the back of his head. His father when he saw his body asked only “Was it after he had completed his task, or was it before?”

1905

The 7th move on to Mukden. Koujirou and Nogi along with them.

In May the Baltic Fleet arrives. Without Port Arthur, they try to get to Vladivostok to resupply. Tougou's fleet intercepts them in the Tsushima strait and despite their smaller number, crushes them decisively. Heiji's destroyer Sazanami, captures the destroyer Buyini with the wounded admiral Zinovy Rozhestvensky **.

In September the Treaty of Portsmouth is signed. The Trans-Manchurian Railway gets handed off to the Japanese. Later Koujirou strongly opposes the plan to develop it ***.

** Heiji's torpedo division was also responsible to delivering the finishing blow to the flagship Knyaz Suarov. Later this was written on Knyaz Suarov's last moments "While she had a gun above water she fired, and not a man survived her of all that crew, to whose stubborn gallantry no words can do justice. If there is immortality in naval memory it is hers and theirs". Gives me the chills.

*** Did he see that it would lead to more war? Mantetsu was the reason behind the Manchurian Incident in 1931 and later for the breakout of the second Sino-Japanese war, where a really ugly face of Japanese imperialism saw the light of day. So, was Koujirou a good guy all along? This I hope will be explained in the manga.

1906

In January Nogi returns to give a victory report to the Emperor *.

Koujirou "commits seppuku" by his son's hand. "Writes" a sappy goodbye letter to Heiji (probably also by Ogata's hand).

Heiji gets seduced by his son's dashing young commander and does some stupid-treasonous things for him, convinced that Central Command was to blame for pushing Koujirou to suicide.

In November Mantetsu is established.

* Nogi breaks down while making the report and asks to be allowed to commit seppuku for allowing such high casualties. The Emperor forbids him. Nogi waits 7 years until the Emperor dies and commits seppuku on the day of his funeral.

Disclaimers

I would say half of this consists of what already is in GK canon (even if it’s written between the lines) or history. The other half are my free guesses for what I personally think would make a better story ;)

I tried and tried to do thorough research, but in the end I’m just a humble fangirl, and not a historian, so if there’s something I got wrong, missed or misinterpreted please correct me - learning history is a never-ending story.

Sorry for linking directly to the scanlations. Support the manga by buying the volumes if you can.

This list will most likely be growing since I will eventually figure out what Koujirou did during the Sino-Japanese war, and I’m only starting digging in to the details of the Boshin War, so I’m sure I’ll expand upon that.

If anyone ever wants to use this information for a fic, please do. Copy it all if you want to. I don’t mind the slightest. I’ll love you to pieces for writing anything for them at all!

#golden kamuy #hanazawa koujirou #koito heiji

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greaterawarness · 3 years ago

Text

"What's Owed." Brothers CH. 4

(The Domino Squad finally has a contact that could possibly help them into a Mandalorian clan. She might also help them to their graves. Fives questions everything that has happened to him so far and what it all means.)

“I haven’t seen you boys before,” The woman says with her dark helmet scanning over them. Fives felt completely paralyzed in her gaze. The Mandalorian shifts so she can bring her hand up to her chin. “What brings five strapping men before me?”

Hevy swallows before speaking.

“Ma’am,” He starts shakily. “My brothers and I… well, we were looking for someone to help us.”

“Help? What kind of help?” She purrs.

“We need help making a name for ourselves. We’re wanting to join one of the clone Mandalorian clans but… we have nothing to show so far.” Hevy goes on. The distant screams grow louder. The woman tilts her head as she thinks.

“You’re lucky,” She says while pushing herself off her desk. “I have a soft spot for clones. You could even say I have a weakness for your kind.”

She walks in slow distinctive steps around them.

“What do you have to offer me?” She asks finally. She walks back around to sit behind her desk with the blue jaig eyes watching over her.

“We don’t have much money,” Fives says after exchanging a look with his brother. “But we could offer you services.”

This makes the woman burst out laughing. Heat spreads across Fives face. She sits back in her chair deep in thought.

“I suppose you’ll have to show me what you can do then.” She says standing. She walks to the side to pull a black door open. She looks over at them. “You coming?”

They hesitantly walk after the Mandalorian. Fives can feel the uncertainty from his brothers. None of them knew what they were getting into. They walk down a dark staircase that opened to a training ground hidden in the basement. Three female Mandalorians spar in the space below. The leader whistles under her helmet making the three women stop and clear the area. She tosses her chin towards the training ground. Fives and his brothers climb down a ladder to the training ground. The three Mandalorian women who were sparing bring them blasters. Fives holds his in his hand getting used to the feel. It was lighter than the ones they practiced with on Kamino. The three Mandalorians climb up to stand next to their leader.

“Alright boys,” The leader Mandalorian says. “We’re gonna start out easy. Stand behind the yellow line and take out the targets.”

They walk to stand behind a yellow line just below the Mandalorians. They hold their blasters up waiting for the targets. Small mechanical balls hover above the ground. They move in basic predictable movements. Fives and his brothers manage to take them out easily. When the last one is down, they look to the woman.

“Good, good, now let’s make it more difficult.” She says punching in something on her wrist. This time there were only yellow lines running along the walls. They were sporadic and fast. They missed a lot more this time but seemed to still keep up. Fives fired over and over but never seemed to hit a target. He lets out an aggravated breath before closing his eyes. He could almost see it with his eyes closed. It was moving much slower in his mind. He fires. When he opens his eyes, he’s hit it. He lets out a relieved sigh. The lights disappear before the woman leaps down to the training ground.

“Alright,” she says, crossing her arms. “You aren’t complete shit with a blaster. Good. But how are you at hand-to-hand combat?”

They exchange looks with each other.

“Ma’am?” Echo says making the woman laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, honey. You won’t hurt me. I just want to see what you boys can do. You can come all at once or one at a time. Makes no difference to me.” She says taking a few steps back before taking a fighting stance. They set their blasters on a table and spread out. None of them wanted to go first. It felt wrong. Five guys up against one woman. Of course, she did look like she could handle herself. Cutup is the first to attack. The woman easily grabs his arm pulling him off course before tumbling on the ground. Fives, Echo, Hevy, and Droidbait take this chance to attack. Fives wasn’t completely sure how he and Hevy ran straight into each other or how Droidbait got thrown into Echo but when they come to from the floor the woman is standing with her arms crossed. “Is this all you have? Oh sweethearts, are you sure you want to join a Mandalorian clan? They’re dangerous after all.”

Anger burned in Fives. He gets to his feet and swings a hit. She blocks with one hand pushing him back with the other. Her foot catches his causing him to fall flat on his back. The air knocks out of his lungs. His brothers take this chance to attack. This woman is a beast. Fives stops himself from just charging. He wipes the sweat from his brow. When Echo and Cutup get up on the other side of the room Fives signals them to try some flanking movements. It was a signal they used on Kamino. He hoped they remembered what it meant. Hevy and Droidbait catch on and keep the woman occupied. With Echo and Cutup flanking her Fives pauses before charging again. She first focuses on Echo and Cutup just long enough before Fives can surprise her planting a hit to her side. She stumbles letting Hevy take her down. Fives thinks they might have done it until Hevy lets out of cry of pain. All he saw was a black blur before pain exploded from the back of his head.

When he comes to, he and his brothers are all groaning. They sit up looking around to make sure everyone was okay. A slow clap draws their attention to the front of the room. The woman claps with a low laugh.

“I have to admit,” She says while walking forward. “I’m impressed. You might just make it after all.”

“So, you’ll help us?” Hevy asks with an arm wrapped around his gut. The woman lets out a sigh.

“I suppose. Go. Let me think on this a while longer. When it’s time I will reach out to you.” She says. they exchange a look one last time before getting to their feet. They’re escorted back to the front door. A hand lands on Cutup’s shoulder making them freeze. “And one more thing. Tell Rafa that if she ever dares to share my information again… I’ll gut her and her sister in the street.”

With that they’re shoved out of the door before it slams shut behind them. They stumble onto the street wincing at their bruises.

“Well,” Cutup says after a pause. “We have a contact.”

“Yeah, but what is she going to do to help us? And more important. What is she going to ask for in return?” Echo asks. None of them knew. They weren’t sure they wanted to know. Not now at least. So, they headed home. To tired and sore to worry about it now, they decide to shower and rest. They ordered some takeout and huddle around their holovid. They watch one of Wolffe’s boxing matches before they start flipping through the channels. Fives plops down on Echo making him squirm into Droidbait. Hevy and Cutup decide to join in until they’ve created this mangled pile of elbows and knees.

“Fuck…you…” Echo wheezes at the bottom of the pile. They ease off him so he can breathe. Fives pats his back before sitting on the remote making the image change to a familiar face. They slowly stop moving as Senator Amidala takes shape in their living room.

“… this is why the clones deserve the same rights as any one of us!” She says. The image changes to a different senator.

“These clones are violent by nature! If we look at the data taken from last year alone it proves that over half the crime in this city was by clones!” The Senator yells earning some cheers and yells in the background. Anger burns in Fives chest.

“What choice do they have! As of right now employers can deny jobs or even living wages just because they are clones! How else are they supposed to survive?” Senator Amidala goes on.

“And what of these… Mandalorian clones? More like thugs if you ask me!” Another Senator adds.

“Thugs!” Duchess Satine says coming into view. “How dare you? Mandalor gave as many clones as possible a place of refuge after the war. We did what we could to help these poor men make a life for themselves. More than the Republic has ever done!”

This starts an uproar of the Senators. Hevy reaches over and changes the channel. One of Wolffe’s fights plays but the silence between the brothers is deafening.

“If that Mandalorian doesn’t help us…, what are we going to do?” Droidbait asks at last. Fives rest his head against Echo’s shoulder feeling his stomach twist in knots.

“We always have a home with 99.” Hevy sighs quietly. It was true. No matter how bad things got here they always had 99 waiting for them with open arms. They try to lighten the mood after that. Cutup and Hevy start sparing together mimicking some of Wolffe’s movements. Droidbait goes back to try and get their stove working again. Fives and Echo crawl on Fives bed and pulls out Echo’s datapad. They surf the internet looking for funny videos. While swiping through a popular video app Fives sits up alarmed. Echo perches himself up on his elbow.

“What’s up?” Echo asks. Fives stares at the video.

“It’s her.” He says softly. Echo snatches the datapad.

“Who?”

“Ahsoka! The girl I told you about that I met outside of the 501st bar.” Fives says wiggling next to his brother to try and see it better.

“Scaring Rex part one!” she says with her camera pointed at her. A series of videos plays of her stepping out scaring Rex. They couldn’t believe someone so serious could be scared so easily. Some of them was just of her walking calmly out of a corner when he wasn’t expecting it. When the video ends another one pops up.

“Scaring Rex part two!” She says but this time Hardcase is in the video. Now it shows several clones popping out to scar Rex. Hevy, Droidbait, and Cutup have noticed their intrigue and all huddle around this one datapad. When they move on from that video they find more. They find one centered around Kix. He does a lot of yoga and health videos. Jesse and Hardcase apparently fix up bikes for a living and have a channel focused on their shop. They come across one video of Jesse running from a tip-yip with Hardcase and Ahsoka watching from the top of the hill with what they assumed was Kix filming.

“Help!” Jesse screams while running.

“Oh, bro I got you!” Hardcase yells before playing chasing music on his datapad before he and Ahsoka start dancing and banging their heads as Jesse continues to run away. They scroll some more before they stumble onto Wolffe’s channel. Most of his is of him working out or promoting his gym until they scroll across one where he seems to be at a club.

“Alright,” He says with another clone leaning against him. “We’re gonna play a game called guess who’s married?”

He flips the camera over and starts showing different clones.

“Monk!” He yells before a clone sees the camera and starts dancing. He turns the camera again.

“Bly?” A different clone throws up some hand signs before it turns again.

“Ahso… nah we know you aint married.” He says when the camera turns to Ahsoka. She stops mid drink before throwing something at Wolffe.

“The fuck does that mean?” she yells. The camera shuffles slightly before moving on.

“Cody!” He yells his name louder. Fives arches his brow. Could this be the same Cody? This Cody doesn’t wear any Mandalorian armor, but he is dressed slightly nicer than the others. He has a cigarette to his lips and grins when he sees the camera.

“And finally… Rex and Anakin?” He yells before they all burst out laughing when the camera pans over to Rex passed out while leaning on another man who is passed out. The camera gets shaky before the video stops. Fives sits up rewinding back to the image of Rex and the man Anakin.

“I know this guy.” He says pointing to the image of Rex and Anakin.

“Rex?” Echo asks. Fives shakes his head.

“No, this guy helped me find my way home the first night on Coruscant. I never got his name…” He trails off before standing. “Ahsoka mentioned that name before too. Anakin. I think this guy is in charge of the 501st with Rex.”

Hevy takes the datapad to look at his face.

“So, we know what he looks like but that doesn’t change much.” Hevy shrugs. Fives crosses his arms.

“Why does Wolffe hangout with the leaders of the 501st and on top of that I ran into a Mandalorian clone named Cody. And Ahsoka was there so she’s also a part of this…” Fives rubs the back of his neck.

“Maybe they all know each other. It probably doesn’t mean anything.” Droidbait says.

“I know what it means,” Cutup says with a grin. “It means if we get into the 501st then we’ll probably get to meet Wolffe!”

He and Hevy start sparing again. Fives rolls his eyes before sitting next to Echo and Droidbait.

“Well, I’ve had enough for one day.” Droidbait sighs. He pushes himself off Fives bunk so he can get into his. Echo climbs up top so Fives can lay flat on his bed. Hevy and Cutup eventually give in and get to bed too. It doesn’t take long for everyone to fall into a deep sleep, but Fives can’t help but stare at Echo’s bunk above him. Was it really just a coincidence that he ran into Anakin and a Mandalorian clone named Cody? Just for both of them to be associated with the 501st in some way? He would think long into the night before he finally succumbs to exhaustion.

They wake to a loud CLUNK against their door. Fives is the first out of bed followed by Cutup falling out of his hammock.

“Well, if our downstairs neighbors weren’t up before… they are now.” He groans from the floor. Fives cautiously walks to the front door before opening it. He’s surprised to see a bag sitting on the floor with a note taped to the top. He pulls the bag inside and opens the note.

“What’s it say?” Echo asks with his legs hanging from his bunk.

“It says… This is your chance. Go to this address and see if you have what it takes.” Fives reads. Hevy walks over and opens the bag. He freezes before pulling a blaster out. They all exchange a look.

“Let’s think this through.” Droidbait says as they get dressed. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

“No, but this might be our only chance to get into a Mandalorian clan.” Hevy says patting Droidbait’s shoulder. They strap on the holsters, and each take a blaster. When they’re ready they hesitate at the door. None of them knew what was going to happen when they go to this address. For all they knew none of them were going to make it back. But as they stand there in the tiny apartment the reality of just how few choices they had dawned on them. As they exit their apartment building Hevy turns facing his brothers.

“No matter what happens or what waits us we do this together.” He says. They reach out to put their arms around each other.

“Together.”

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years ago

Text

A Softer Side Part 7

The computer pinged with each frantic bid in the dying minutes, and all out war between Petrov and user BaishunpuSureiya, which in a literal translation meant Whore Slayer, otherwise known as first lieutenant to the Yakuza clan Moriyama. “Only thing worse than the Russian mob, the Japanese Yakuza.” Strand sighed.

”Damn I’m glad we got the girl out of this one.” Jerry muttered quietly.

Ayla was frantically digging into these guys as they watched the bidding war play out. A different ping had their attention snap to Ayla’s screen. “Oh you clever sweet girl.” Karl breathed. “You hacked the sites mainframe.”

“Told you she was good.” Jerry elbowed him with his murmured.

As the auction timed out the bids stopped at 6.5 million, Petrov waiting until the last second to out bid his closest rival. Karl kept a hand on Jerry’s shoulder as he breathed out very slowly. “Not celebrating until we bag him.” He said finally, wrangling his emotions under control. “We’re not done, he’s not in our care yet.”

“One step at a time kid.” Karl murmured and watched as Ayla’s hand squeezed Jerry’s. The ping of money being transferred to their dummy account brought them back to reality. “Wainwright will be getting a call soon.” As if he’d dialed the number himself, the call came through, Steve answering. With the drop location agreed on Davis and his team headed out to cast the net wide, they had a few hours to burn beforehand which was ample time to secure all access roads.

As Karl studied the takedown, he could see Ayla was busy pulling those digital threads to finesse the data she was searching for. With a frantic hand tapping his she pointed at the screen and then to Davis’s feed.

“Davis.” He snapped through the coms. “They’re already at the drop site, preplanned in the event they won the auction.”

“Copy that boss. We’ll cast wider see what we come up with.”

“I’ll forward this intel to you, it just came in. North side heavily guarded, best choke point along the south east ridge. You can bottle neck them in if you have a team at the choke point.”

“Mia?” Strand asked.

“Already leaving.” She said. Karl knew she had a helicopter stashed away, there wasn’t much she didn’t have in the way of equipment.

“Archangel is on the way.” Strand snapped out grinding his teeth, shit was about to get real.

“Copy that boss.”

Karl paced and saw Jerry blanch. “We’ll get him kid.”

“I know, his luck’s run out.” He shrugged. “I gotta gut feeling this is his last auction, whether we catch him or kill him it’s his fucking last.”

“Davis?” Strand called.

“Yeah?”

“Capture not kill, do you understand? Not unless he gives you no other option. We want Petrov alive and to at least be able to talk coherently.” Karl thought for a moment. “I don’t care about the rest, society will be much better without them.”

“Copy that. With Archangel, we’ll clean house.” Karl knew Davis understood his command. Take everyone out, leave Petrov alive, it was that fucking simple.

The randevu inched closer, the seconds ticking by in silence as Strand let Davis and Wainwright do their jobs. He had absolute confidence in their ability, he just didn’t want to let Jerry down, they’d come too far now.

“Why Mia?” Hunt asked as he paced, his restless energy making him on edge.

“That woman can shoot the hair off a gnats ass at two miles. She’ll find a nest and pick them off, effectively clearing the way for Davis and company to move in.”

“She is so much more than she seems.” Jerry said

“You have no idea kid.”

“Did you guys ever... you know?” Jerry asked quietly.

“Nope and never will. It would be like fucking my little sister.” Strand said disgustedly, even the thought of it put a bad taste in his mouth.

“Fair enough.” Jerry chuckled.

“You looking to start something with her?” He asked as he watched Davis’s team come online.

“Maybe. I like her.” He shrugged.

“Tread carefully and slowly, she’s been through hell.” Was all Strand would say on the matter and Jerry wisely shut his mouth. Karl didn’t want to get into it, he had enough relationship troubles at the moment without diving into someone else’s love life woes. Is that what this was, he thought, was he in love with her, was this a relationship?”

“In position.” Davis’s voice crackled over coms. “Waiting for Archangel.”

“Copy that, she’s en route. ETA, thirty minutes or so.” Strand said taking a seat again, his own nervous energy starting to make his skin crawl. He should be out there with the team, not cooped up inside watching it go down. In that regard he was impatient, preferring to be in the thick of it not on the sidelines.

“Get my drone up in the air Davis, I’ll need to have eyes.” Mia’s voice was clipped as it came over the coms unit.

“Copy that Archangel.” Karl could hear the smirk in Davis’s voice and smiled, he had a good team.

“Pull it up Jerry.” He said quietly and Hunt activated the drone feed. “We may need to be her eyes as well, the team on the ground will have enough to do.” They settled in with a little over an hour to analyse, strategize, and tighten the net.

******

“Archangel in position.” Mia’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You close?” Strand asked.

“Hostiles 100 yards.” She said shortly barely breathing, though the hostiles in question weren’t exactly being quiet and would mask any noise she made.

“Copy.” Karl said softly.

******

“Approaching now.” Wainwright said as they pulled up just outside the containment line.

“As soon as you set foot on the ground Archangel will clear the outer perimeter, Davis will clean up and move the containment line in.”

“Copy.”

“You ready Burke?” Strand asked.

“Asshole won’t know what hit him.” She snarked.

“We need him alive.” He said.

“I got the memo. He’ll be breathing and conscious.”

“Pulling up.” Steve cut in, now it was down to business.

“Copy.” Strand said.

The feed came into view and Karl saw Petrov waiting, surrounded by his entourage trying to look important more than watching for any real threat, that would be their fatal mistake. “Jerry, paint our good friend Ivan so Mia can leave that asshole alive.” He growled and Hunt did as requested using the drone to fix a red glow to the man, only Mia would be able to see the glow through her scope.”

“Stepping out now Archangel.” Wainwright said softly.

“Copy.” Came Mia’s feminine whisper.

******

No sooner had Steve’s foot met gravel, Petrov’s men started dropping like flies. In less than a minute she had the outer security down.

“Davis move in.” She said quietly. “North side.”

“Copy.” She would keep them safe.

Strand watched Steve take his time, the customary small talk between buyer and seller, giving Mia as much time as possible to plow the road. With an ear on their conversation he glanced to see Davis’s team secure the heavily armed North side.

“Ametures.” Mia snorted. “Never leave the high ground unattended.” Her soft mumble had Karl chuckling. “May as well have presented your asses with a flashing neon sign that said shoot me.”

“It’s just the inner circle left now.” Strand said gruffly as Wainwright hauled Burke out of his car. She swayed as if she was drugged, Karl knowing full well she was stone cold sober.

“Is she armed?” Jerry asked, a worried edge to his voice. “If this goes south she’s fucked.”

Strand snorted before he laughed. “She doesn’t need a weapon Jerry, she is the weapon.” He looked at the rookie and smiled. “Watch and learn, Petrov’s about to get his ass handed to him by a girl.” Strand looked back to watch the takedown unfold, like fucking poetry.

Like a well choreographed dance Burke reached Petrov and his hands closed around her bicep. As soon as skin met skin, Mia reduced his entourage down to just him and his first lieutenant. By the time Mia had taken down the first lieutenant, Burke had Petrov on the ground, balls in his hands, pain plastered across his face, in less than three minutes he was crying like a baby and screaming like a stuck pig.

“Not so tough now are you Ivan.” Burke purred as she circled him.

“What do you want?” He blubbered.

“Funny you should ask.” She grinned and got in his face. “Know this girl?” She held up her phone with a photo of Jerry’s sister Eva. “Before you answer let me remind you, lying or anything other than the whereabouts of this girl will end with you being shipped off to Hades 6, where we have a very nice welcome party waiting for you.” Even on the shitty feed Strand saw his face pale. “Take your time and think real hard because you purchased her, cheaper than a prime piece but you bought her, you have three minutes Ivan, then I’m handing you over to those on Hades 6 to extract the data out of you.” She let him cower at her feet, Hunt was chewing his nails, the wait unbearable.

No one spoke for the entire three minutes, the silence palpable. Crouching again before him she flicked his nose and he trembled, fucking pussy, Strand thought. “Where is she Petrov?”

“Outside San Francisco, at our US compound.” His voice choked and quavered, Karl wouldn’t be surprised if this sniveling asshole had peed his pants.

“You’re going to make a call, in English or the same fate will be in your future.” She growled. “One person drives her to this location.” She held up the address for him to see. Only the girl gets out of the car, I see anyone else I’ll pack you off to Hades 6 so fast your head will spin. Understand?” He nodded furiously.

With shaking hands Ivan dialed the number. As it was ringing Ayla traced it. He rattled off instructions for the girl, where to drive her to. The ping from the computer Ayla was working from made a sly smile spread across Karl’s face.

“Got you now you fuckers.” He growled. “We have what we need. Secure and transport Petrov, collect the girl and take her to the outcrop safe house, I’ll have her brother meet her there.”

“I’m closer.” Mia said quickly. “I’ll bring her home, she’ll be more comfortable there.”

“Sounds good, let us know when you’re heading our way.”

“Copy that, Archangel out.”

Strand turned to Jerry, the rookie pale and in shock. “Mia will bring her home here.” He said placing an understanding hand on the kids shoulder. “You need to brace yourself Jerry, she’s not going to be the same sister.”

“I know. How do I help her?” He asked quietly.

“Just be her brother, that’s all you can do. She’s not going to want to be around anyone for a while.”

“Much like Ayla was.” Jerry breathed and looked at her, that slight nod the only answer he’d get. “You guys go ahead and sleep, I’ll wait up for Mia and my sister.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. She’s going to terrified out of her mind, the less of an audience the better. I just need to lay eyes on her, know that she’s here, safe.”

Strand watched as Ayla stood and padded over to Jerry. Her tentative hug was a huge step, a silent gesture to let him know she was here for him, for his sister.

“Thanks Ayla, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have found her.” The rookie was almost in tears. She smiled softly and nodded. Jerry headed out to brew what would probably be his tenth coffee for the evening, leaving Ayla staring at Wainwright.

“It’s not him sweet girl.” Karl reassured. Reaching over he clicked Wainwright’s com on to open a channel. “Steve do me a favor and lose the face.” He said quietly. “On camera, she needs to see it.”

“Sure.” He pulled the camera around so Ayla had a good view and she pulled back, almost dissolving against Karl, his arms wrapping around her protectively.

“It’s not him, watch.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and she watched as his fingers disappeared. “It’s a holographic image projected over his face to make him look like Raven. If he touches his face it disrupts the signal.” Wainwright pressed a spot by his ear and half the holographic mask disappeared to reveal Steve’s thirty something face. “Pretty cool huh?” Strand murmured as she reached out a hand to touch the screen, a barely there nod her only answer. “Thanks Steve.”

“No problem boss.” Even his voice was back to normal.

“It has a voice chip in there too which makes him sound like Raven.” Karl explained as he cut the feed. She turned in his arms, buried her face in his chest and wept, those slender fingers fisting in his shirt. “You’re ok sweet girl.” He soothed as Jerry came back in and sat at the computer ignoring them as if they weren’t in the room. With a reassuring squeeze of the rookie’s shoulder he scooped Ayla up into his arms and carried her to her room.

It had been a rough evening for her mentally and emotionally, seeing and hearing a likeness of Raven rocking her to her core. “You’re safe Ayla.” He murmured as he climbed into bed with her, there was no way she was letting go of him tonight. He soothed her to sleep, his body cradling hers. Could he really be this stability she was looking for, he wondered? That one thought pounded through his head as he drifted, was he in love with her?

Her nightmare was more a night terror, visceral, all consuming. It was the first sound other than her whimper he’d heard from her, the terrified scream tearing from her throat, hands frantically pushing him away, fighting whatever had appeared in her mind to torment her. Waking her was difficult, his soft commands to wake up were a glancing blow, it held her under deeply. In the end, as much as he hated himself for it, he grabbed her by the biceps tightly, pined her to the mattress and barked at her.

“AYLA, WAKE UP!” He barked, a tone that left no room for interpretation. She woke sharply, eyes suddenly forced wide open at his voice, the grip on her probably hurting. That keening half scream half sob was wrenched from deep within her and she froze in his hands.

Loosening his grip he let her go and put his hands up in front of him. “You’re ok sweet girl, just a nightmare, you’re safe.” She continued to stare at him, her shuddering breath heaving in and out. “Just a really bad dream.” He repeated. Her eyes searched the room frantically, that whimper gutting him. “He’s not here Ayla, he’s on Hades 6 remember?” The urge to pull her into his arms and cradle her against him was overwhelming, the need to soothe. “You’re safe with me sweet girl, I won’t hurt you.” He murmured and held out his hands for her to come to him, to seek comfort, shelter, protection. Her choice, he thought, it had to be her choice as much as this was killing him it would only exacerbate her fear if he forced it.

He clicked on the lamp, the soft glow chasing the shadows into the night where they belonged, not that there was much of the night left. “It’s just you and me sweet girl.” He said softly, her breathing calmer now the light was on, her body still trembling. “I’m here when you’re ready Ayla, no rush.” The look of absolute terror in her eyes destroyed him as he rested his hand on his knee and let her process what she’d dreamt and the scene in front of her.

Eventually her hand reached out, fingertips brushing his. He curled them gently, urging her to come closer, to seek the safety she desperately needed. She inched closer, tentative fingers shaking toward him before they snatched back as if they’d been struck.

“You can touch me sweet girl, you’re safe with me.” He said calmly. “You’re ok.” When in the world had he become so fucking patient, he thought? Since you became her world, that little voice in his head smirked. As her mind settled she curled into him, the quiet weeping of an overwhelmed soul. “You’re safe sweet girl.” He sighed, holding her tighter and slowly leaning back against the headboard. As her tears subsided her finger grazed his scruff, the gentle touch igniting that fire within him. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her face to his chest and breathed. “Get some more sleep sweet girl, I’m right here ok?” She nodded and he heard the shuddered sigh, willing her body to relax knowing he’d keep her safe while she slept. He squeezed her tightly and shifted to lay flat, her tiny form cradled against his gigantic frame.

He felt her drift under, not so lucky himself as he stared at the ceiling. She slept for another few hours, he was content to just hold her in his arms while he thought about the next op in a few days time. He was pulled from the quiet doze he’d fallen into by her lips on his.

“You feeling better sweet girl?” He rasped as his mind coming back from wherever it had wandered off to. Opening his eyes sea green looked back, clear and full of love, her slight nod settling him. I don’t deserve you, he said silently, I’m no good for you I’m so many ways. No matter how many times he thought it and then banished it from his mind, he still craved her. She’d gotten under his guard and sucker punched him, stealing whatever was left of his black heart for herself. She kissed him again, the primal animal inside him surging forward as he deepened it, taking what he desperately wanted, giving her whatever it was she needed. He lost himself to the taste of her, those soft lips he suddenly had the urge to have around his cock.

Her hands wandering down his chest and along his torso snapped him back to some semblance of reality before her mouth claimed his. “Ayla.” He breathed, he was drowning in her. Shivering slightly as her hand grazed his shaft, his body betrayed his resolve. The press of her body against his elicited a groan as she palmed him, the sensual stroke of his erection causing a low growl to rumble from within him. God he wanted her, every cell in his body wanted her. “Stop.” He murmured gently as he took her hands and brought them to rest on his chest. Pressing his forehead against hers he regained his control, the slim margin of space suddenly between them giving his brain time to think before he acted and did something monumentally stupid. “I want to.” He whispered. “But the way I want you isn’t what you need.” No, he thought, pinning her to the bed and taking her how he pleased was not what she needed, to plunge inside her, to feel her wrapped around his cock as he fucked her hard. No, she needed tender, and he wasn’t sure he could give that to her. He felt her nod slightly, her head bowing until it rested on his chest tucked under his chin. Her tears slipped over his hand and he felt like an even bigger asshole. “I need time Ayla. I’m not sure being intimate with you is best for either of us.” He felt her nod again before she pulled away, rolling over quickly, and moving to the bathroom. “Ayla.” He said gently, but the quiet snick of the door ended his sentence before it had begun. Staring at the ceiling he let his frustration simmer. He was trying to take it slow with her, ease her into sex, did she not see that? Did she not understand that if he hurt her it would destroy him?

Ripping the covers off he dressed in jeans and a sweater and grabbed his Glock out of nightstand drawer. He stomped out to the kitchen, grabbed a coffee in a to go thermos and headed out to Mia’s range. He needed distance, he needed violence, and he needed to get her scent out of his fucking system. They had days to prepare for the last of the three auctions and hopefully put and end to all of it, he needed to focus.

Round after round went into the targets, the action soothing the edges of his unease, cathartic violence for his soul. He wasn’t husband material, relationship material, he worked hard, and played harder. His next shot faltered as Sarah popped into his mind, he’d loved her, still loved her, or what was his version of love. Was that why it felt wrong with Ayla, he wondered? No, not wrong, because he did feel something for her, it was just different to what he felt with Sarah.

Loading a new clip he emptied it into the target.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Mia said as the echo of the last round faded.

“Needed to clear my head.” He snarled, slamming another clip in and fired.

“I figured when you weren’t anywhere to be found.” She said as he let the empty clip fall and placed an egg and bacon sandwich on the table for him. “Thought you could use a bite.”

“Thanks.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” He loaded and fired, the smooth action one of years of repetition.

“All right then, I’ll leave you to it.” Mia sighed and turned to walk away.

“I’m in love with her Mia and it fucking terrifies me.” He blurted out. “All I keep thinking about is how I’m not the right person for her, I want to push her so far away from me to protect her yet my body wants her, I want her. How do I give her what she needs when I don’t even know what that is or how to give it to her. I’m not the loving gentle soul she needs.”

“Maybe not to the rest of us but to her you are.” Mia said gently. “Karl, she brings out a softer side of you I’ve never seen before, and it’s only with her.”

“I love Sarah, loved Sarah and I don’t know if I can take that kind of a beating again emotionally.”

“I know you did, but this isn’t the same.” Mia said softly.

“It’s so different.” He sighed, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.

“Ayla is happy with you Strand and that’s a good thing for her, positive in her healing, but don’t lead her on.” She put her hands up as he opened his mouth to speak. “You’re not doing that, I’m just saying if you’re not serious about her you need to tell her.”

“I don’t even know what this is Mia.” He huffed.

“Then you need to figure it out, because if you keep pushing her away she’ll eventually stop coming to you, stop vying for your affection.”

“She had a nightmare last night.”

“And she’ll have many more.” Mia shot back. Damn it, Strand thought, she was going to make him deal with it all.

“She wanted sex.” He said flatly.

“Then give it to her.” Mia shrugged.

“It’s not that simple.”

Mia laughed. “God men are so clueless sometimes, I have to spell it out.” Her sigh making Strand bristle.

“Was it like that with you and Peter?” He sniped, the mention of his old partner bringing a mournful look into her eyes. He wished he could take back those words the second they were out.

“That was a low blow even for you Karl, but to answer your question, yes. After you brought me home it was Peter that tended me much like you’re doing with Ayla. There came a point where I needed sex, I needed to feel what it was like to be in control of what was taken from me. The only difference between me and Ayla is I knew what sex was like before Syria, she’s had nothing but rape and torture her entire life.” She studied him. “She trusts you Karl, she wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t.”

“She hasn’t asked, she hasn’t said a fucking word.” His growl was more a snarl.

“Her actions ask. She wouldn’t let you touch her if she didn’t want you to, it’s her choice.” He chewed it over and felt his gut sink, had he pushed her away too much already? “Finish up here.” Mia said seeing him start to think on her words. “Burgers tonight out on the patio, we earned them after last night.”

“You loved him didn’t you?” He said gently.

“Very much.” Her words held such grief, a deep longing as she walked back to the pickup.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.” She snorted.

******

The long walk back to the house cleared his head about Sarah, she was not who he thought she was, their relationship tenuous at best. If he was being honest with himself they were using each other for sex and that was, and always had been their relationship, even when he’d thought he’d been in love with her. The way he felt about Ayla however was as clear as mud. There was a deeper pull to her, as if her soul spoke to his, a softness and calm he’d never experienced before. Her soul soothed his own.

Coming into the kitchen he glanced into the rec room and found Ayla and Jerry at the computers working hard to set up their next op for tomorrow. He should have been here helping instead of having his own existential crisis. At least she hadn’t withdrawn or shut down.

“Hey boss.” Jerry said quietly and he saw Ayla’s hands still on the keyboard before resuming their rapid beat.

“How’s your sister?” He asked taking a seat between them.

“Doing ok considering, we talked some.” Jerry shrugged.

“That’s a start.” Karl said softly. Hunt brought him up to speed with their progress. The report from Burke on the delivery of Petrov to Hades 6. “We all set for tonight’s pickup?”

“Wainwright and Burke are set, Davis is regrouping with his team.”

“Good.”

“Do you think our old CO will bid tonight?” Hunt asked hopeful.

“God I fucking hope so.” Karl growled. “He’s the middle man, there’s someone above him pulling the strings and I want to know who.” Because that was who Raven supplied on a regular basis and would bring this entire syndicate down.

“Raven’s the supplier and distributer.”

“Yes, but who’s running the show? Who does he answer to? Raven makes millions off these auctions yet look at the house and neighborhood he lived in. If he had access to all this money where are the fancy cars, the mansions, the carefree lifestyle one had with that about of money?” Karl mused. “Were missing something.” And he’d noticed that even Ayla didn’t have the answer, maybe she doesn’t know.

******

When it came time for burgers Jerry left Strand and Ayla to go see if his sister would join them. He watched as Ayla stood and went to help Mia in the kitchen. There was a tension between them that wasn’t there last night and he was kicking himself for putting it there.

“Great, now she doesn’t want to be in the same room alone with me.” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before scrubbing a hand over his face.

They all took some down time, walked away from the case for a few hours to devour a burger and fries, laugh, and boost each other’s moral.

“Did you like the burger?” Karl asked Ayla before she could get up and leave, the two of them alone for the moment as Jerry and Mia cleared and washed dishes. Jerry taking something in for his sister. She nodded and he could feel the distance between them growing exponentially. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, I’m just terrified I’ll hurt you.” He blurted out. “I’m a mess Ayla.” He sighed and looked at her, those intense sea green eyes looking back. “I’ve never felt like this about someone, even with Sarah it wasn’t like this and I don’t know how to handle it.” His hand hesitated before he brushed his knuckles along her arm, that jolt to his system something he could no longer ignore or pass off as fleeting arousal. “I feel it every time I touch you, or you touch me.” He said, his voice husky. “That unmistakable yearning for you.” He looked at her. “I crave you, and sure we could just have sex, but it’s more than that, and I’m not sure that’s what you need, or what I need.” Was it love, he wondered? “I wish you’d talk to me sweet girl, tell me what you want, what you need from me.” He murmured.

She stood slowly and Karl thought he’d blown it, but she took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. Her knee brushed his and he opened his legs for her to stand closer as she deepened the kiss. He looked up at her as she pulled away, her fingers caressing every angle of his face. The urge to slide his hands along her body made his fingers ache, but he kept them still, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

“Do you really want this with me?” He asked quietly and her nod made his breath hitch. “You know you could do much better.” He scoffed softly and a slight smirk touched her lips before she shook her head. “You don’t think so?” She shook her head again. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispered against her lips as they claimed his again. Her fingers wandered his chest and shoulders, feeling every contour and defined muscle.

He wanted to take it further, but time, once again, wasn’t on their side. “We have an op to run sweet girl.” He sighed as he broke the kiss, her nod one of understanding. Resting his forehead against hers he regained control of his system. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” He whispered. Her hand cupped his cheek and she kissed him sweetly before stepping back.

Making their way back inside, the heat between them making him itch to touch her, maybe he’d scratch that itch after the auction was online and the pickup had been made. Sitting down they got to the business end of the evening. The pickup went as planned, the auction was live and the bidding war had begun. Jerry decided to monitor the auction while the rest of the team get some sleep.

“See you at one ish?” Hunt asked Karl as he and Ayla rose from their chairs, Mia had already gone to crash out.

“Come tap on the door, wake me if anything strange goes down.”

“Will do boss.” Jerry nodded and went back to reading through the mountain of information they were still wading through.

******

He hesitated on her threshold, it was needless, the invitation clear from the tug of her hand in his. It was like any other night they’d slept together, her choice to have him here with her. Sitting on the edge of the bed he watched as she shut the door, her tentative steps toward him had him question himself. “There’s no rush Ayla, we don’t have to do this right now.” He said softly, her hand reaching for his chest. Opening his legs she stood between them much like she had out on the patio. “Talk to me sweet girl.” He whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

Her hand lightly tapped his chest, her mouth opening and then closing a few times as she fought for the words. “I want you.” She whispered, her words barely audible, her hand trembling.

“I’m all yours.” He breathed, a little in awe of her, a little startled at her voice. As a hand wandered the other joined it as she leaned in and kissed him.

He’d forgotten how arousing it was to have a woman touch him so tenderly, each stroke of a finger igniting a trail of searing heat over him. Her eyes met his as they found the hem of his shirt and lifted it, the slight nod telling her it was ok. He shivered as her fingers brushed his bare chest. Pulling his shirt up he felt that tightness in his belly as he lifted his arms so she could take it all the way off, she excited something in him. Her touch became bolder as time went on, her kiss hungrier for him. “Can I touch you?” He asked quietly against her mouth, her gaze uncertain. “I want you to feel good too sweet girl.” His fingers toying with the wisps of hair framing her face. “To show you how good it can feel.” He breathed as she kissed him again. “No ones done that for you have they? They just took what they wanted.” Her embarrassed nod broke his heart. “Do you trust me to make you feel good, make this feel good?” She bowed her head and he hooked a finger under it asking her to look at him. When she did he kissed her tenderly, the barely there brush off his lips against hers. “Nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about sweet girl. Sex should be mutually beneficial and enjoyed.” Threading his fingers into her hair he kissed her, keeping it gentle and loving, something new for him and it felt foreign. He couldn’t just take what he wanted, not like Sarah, he had to go at her speed, let her get comfortable knowing he wasn’t going to pin her down against her will.

He deepened the kiss, tongue toying with her lip, requesting, asking for her to come and play. The soft tremble of her body when he devoured her mouth made him continue, sweeping her up in the arousal a good kiss could give. She swayed on her feet when he pulled away and chuckled softly. “I think you liked that.” He murmured nuzzling her cheek, her blush flushing her cheeks confirming it.

“Can I touch you?” He asked again gently, she nodded hesitating slightly as his finger trailed her jaw, down to brush her collarbone. “You can stop me at anytime.” Her eyes looked up and found his. “Mutually beneficial, if something hurts or makes you uncomfortable you need to tell me ok?” She nodded and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I want to make you feel good sweet girl, not hurt you.” With both hands splayed out over his chest she leaned in and kissed him. He felt the fire inside her, the passion and desire skittering below the surface waiting to be unlocked.

Keeping her mouth occupied with his own he rested his fingers at her hips, the slow gentle patterns he stroked her with hopefully desensitizing her. Hugging and holding her was one thing, this was on completely different level. She jumped slightly as fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt to graze the skin at her waist, the low sweep of her ribs. He gave her a moment to process and when she didn’t stop him he continued. His hands drifted under her shirt, the softness of her skin, the scent of her already making him hard. As he dragged his hands up her ribs she raised her arms above her head, a bold enough signal to tell him to remove her shirt.

The weeks of good food and freedom had filled her out. Gone was the bony waif with sharp angles and a pained look, a lush curvy woman stood in her wake. “God you’re beautiful.” He choked, his emotions gaining the upper hand momentarily. His kiss was barely restrained, the hunger for her almost too much to contain. Leaning his head against hers he breathed deeply, reeling it in for her sake. Kissing his way down her neck she shivered as he kissed her shoulder, a finger easing her bra strap off, his lips teasing the swell of her cleavage as he peeled the lace cup down. As his mouth claimed her nipple her hands cupped his head. At first he thought she would push him away, until the soft moan escaped as he rolled the hardened bud over his tongue. “I like hearing those sounds from your lips.” He purred as he kissed his way to the other breast to do the exact same thing. As he aroused her further he unclipped the bra and helped her remove it, her hands cupping his face to bring his mouth to hers.

Wordlessly he looked at her, those sea green eyes full of desire before he slowly kissed his way down her body. Falling to his knees he burrowed his face into her belly as his hands slipped between skin and the waistband of her leggings. He heard her breath hitch and took it slow, giving her enough time to process where his hands were and what she was feeling at his touch before he inched them down along with her panties. Taking his time he was content to taste every inch of her skin giving her the time she needed. Her scent was driving him insane, the hot heady mix of lust and arousal making his cock throb. Kissing his way down further she flinched and stepped back as his tongue licked along her wet folds.

“You didn’t like that?” He asked gently, releasing her immediately. She stood for a moment trying to process what her body felt, that tell tale tremble stopping him cold. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked and she shook her head.

“No.” She breathed, her chest heaving a little with uncertainty.

“You liked it?” Her shy nod made him smile. “Makes you feel good?” He asked as he trailed his finger up her legs from ankle to ass, kissing her hips, tongue trailing over her, he couldn’t taste her enough.

Resting his chin on her belly he looked up at her as a thought occurred to him. “Have you had oral before? Received not give?” He asked quietly, the small shake of her head confirmed his suspicions. “An orgasm?” She bowed her head and shied away, the bright red flush to her face causing her to try and hide from him. “I’ll take that as a no.” He breathed and reached up to stroke his knuckles down her cheek.

She’d simply been something to fuck, no emotions, no foreplay, no enjoyment, just a thing that Allen Raven could fuck and abuse on his every whim.

He could see she was embarrassed and he had to take things carefully now. “Would you like to try?” He looked up into that beautiful face, her hair a curtain around her bowed head, her hands had clasped in front of her mound. Kissing her hands he gave her time to think. “Or we can stop? It’s up to you Ayla.”

Her fingers eventually unclasped and touched his face, they shook slightly. “You’re a little nervous?” She nodded. “We’ll take it slow. Oral for you is better laying down when you’re ready, if you want to try it.” He left it at that and continued to kiss her, the gentle strokes of his fingers easing her jitters. Every so often his tongue would swipe through her slick folds, the pleasurable jolt of something so new it had her breathing hitch, a frantic scramble to process what she was feeling. As she warmed up to the new sensations he was freely giving her she started to relax, her hands and fingers gripping at him urging him to take more, give more. “Sit on the edge of the bed sweet girl.” He said and only let her go long enough for her to sit.

She shivered as he kissed her knees the tender request to open them. As she did he kissed along her inner thighs until she relaxed further. “Lay back.” He said softly as he rose up on his knees and kissed her, tongue darting in to flick hers playfully. “Let me make you feel good.” Lowering herself back he followed, his eyes not leaving hers. “You can stop me at anytime ok? You’re in control. You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” He kissed her until that soft moan filled the room, hoping there were more it in their future.

Traveling the length of her body he kissed and teased her until he was on his knees between her legs. One ankle at a time he sat them on his shoulders and ran his hands the length of her inner thighs to spread her wide open for him. “Relax your legs.” He purred and trailed a finger along her thighs until she did, they shook the entire way, nerves getting the better of her. Trailing his hands up her torso he cupped her breasts and gently pinched the nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers. God he wanted to taste her and then feast, her scent was hypnotic.

He sampled her, tongue softly grazing her entrance, building her arousal, her confidence. Her hips started to move with him, urging him to take more, to go faster. With one hand on her breast he skated the other down her body, finger gently teasing her entrance. As he circled a finger a soft whimper came from her, arousal not fear. “Let it come sweet girl.” He murmured as his finger slipped just inside her before stroking her clit. “This will feel so good, I promise.” It would also prime her body to take him fully without hurting her. As her whimpers grew stronger he added a second finger and teased her opening, not ready for him to plunge them in just yet. Fingers circled as his tongue stroked her clit, drawing out as much pleasure for her as possible, slow and gentle. He felt her peak, her body writhing against his mouth, her hands grasping at him desperately. As her body tensed for release he slipped his fingers into her, the long digits stroking her core as his lips suctioned around her clit, tongue flicking. She bucked against his fingers as they took her apart slowly, coaxing her orgasm out and letting it linger as it rolled through her. The soft cry of his name as she came hadn’t been what he’d expected.

He brought her back to reality with soothing strokes and tender kisses, letting her brain process what he’d just done to her, given her. Placing her legs back down he kissed his way up her torso to claim her mouth. “You liked that.” He grinned and her nod had him chuckling. “I hope to give you a few more of those tonight.” She trailed a finger along his scruff and kissed him, that sweet tenderness his undoing.

She kissed him until she was sitting and urged him to stand up, he stopped her as she went to kneel. “You don’t have to, Ayla.” He said knowing she would have been forced to suck cock regularly, and not very pleasantly. She kissed his chest and looked up at him before sinking to her knees, this was her choice. Raking his fingers through her hair she slipped his jeans off, taking his briefs with them and freeing his thick erection. Once he’d stepped free of the denim her fingers wandered, taking her time exploring his body, his reactions to her touch. He groaned as she stroked him, those slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, the feel of them igniting all his dark fantasies. He hissed as she took him into her mouth and he had to resist the urge to grab her hair and thrust deep. She felt glorious, that soft sweet mouth sucking him into oblivion. He pulled back as she went to take him deep, the hesitation stopping her.

“If you take me like that it’ll be all over, I won’t last.” He said huskily, chest heaving as he struggled for control. Holding out his hand for hers he helped her to stand. He kissed her, long and deep. “Another day maybe, but tonight I want to be inside you when I come. I want to feel you.” She went to bow her head, but he stopped her with a gentle finger under her chin. “I liked it Ayla, you did nothing wrong, I just want to last a little longer.” He sat on the bed and urged her to stand between his legs again, his erection spearing upward. His lips played with hers, the soft nibble relaxing her, showing her that this was how sex was supposed to be, fun, sensual. Hooking a hand behind her knee he guided her to straddle him, her petite figure pressing against him. He let the moment build taking the subtle hints when she gave them to move forward, that she was nearly ready to take him in.

She watched him as she sank down on her knees, her hand stroking him along her heat. His eyes never left hers as she lowered and took in his mushroom tip, the girth stretching her open. Her heat wrapping around him nearly sent him over the edge as she inched her way down, impaling herself on his cock. When he was fully seated he held her ass cheeks so she couldn’t move and groaned as she kissed him. So unbelievably tight and wet, he could feel her throbbing for him. “Fuck Ayla you’re so tight.” He mumbled into her shoulder as he nipped her neck. “Stay still a moment.” He urged as his hands held her on him as she tried to rock, he was teetering on the edge. Her kiss was tender as she sat, his cock buried deep, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Go slow sweet girl. I don’t want to hurt you.” He said softly and guided her hips as she started to rock. Enjoying the ride he watched her take her pleasure, the way he moved with her, the tiny gasps when he hit that one spot inside her she didn’t know existed. He felt her orgasm build, the tremble of her body as it started to spiral out of control, the soft whimpers that made his cock twitch. “Let me feel you come sweet girl.” He kissed her. “Just like before, let it take you.” Reaching between them he circled her clit with his thumb and watched her eyes widen at the sensation. “Relax and let it come.” Keeping the same rhythm she peaked, her body going taught before the euphoria swamped her. Writhing and bucking he guided her hips as she came, keeping the rhythm going to prolong her pleasure and build another.

“Can I lay you down?” He asked as she collapsed into him.

“Yes.” Her breath ragged. Flipping them he wrapped her legs around him and gently thrust in until he was buried to his hilt. With long slow strokes he took her, deeply and gently, he would pull this climax from deep within her. Busy fingers and the plunging strokes had them both on the edge. “Let me watch you come sweet girl.” He whispered as he slipped his hand between them, finger circling her clit, her cry one he hoped to hear again and again. As she threw her head back and came, his name on her lips, he dipped down to suck at her pulse, his hips pistoning a little faster before he groaned his pleasure and emptied himself inside her.

They lay there sated and pleasurably wrecked, and Karl had to admit he’d enjoyed the slow burn more than he’d anticipated. “I like it when you say my name.” He mumbled into her neck as he nibbled the tender flesh there. Lifting his head he looked down to see tears streaking her cheeks. “Ayla?” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. “Did I hurt you?” He asked gently, mind reeling, cursing himself for even entertaining the idea of sex with her. The vehement shake of her head was a strong indication she was ok. Pulling out of her he rolled and curled her into him, pulling the covers over them both. “A little overwhelming?” Her nod set him at ease. “Did you like it?” That nod made him smile. “Me too.” Shifting down a little he kissed her, long and tender, wrapping her up tightly in his arms. He’d never been one for post coital snuggling but this, with her, this he liked.

“Karl?” Came her soft voice, husky from disuse.

“Mmmm.” He couldn’t deny he loved how his name sounded on her lips.

“I love you.” It was simply said, her face buried in his chest as if she was expecting a blow, verbal or physical. He had no response other than to hold her tightly and kiss her head. For the first time in a long time, he was speechless. She had a right to voice her feelings, he just didn’t know how to voice his to her.

“Sleep now.” He murmured, reaching over to turn off the lamp. She snuggled in closer as if the darkness had pushed her against him. “You’re safe sweet girl. He can’t touch you ever again.” He dropped into sleep like a stone once Ayla was out cold, sex a sure fire way to give him the release he needed to clear his head.

******

They slept until six and he only woke because of Ayla’s pretty mouth around his cock. He had no chance of holding off as the cobwebs of deep sleep muddled his brain. Lightly fisting his hand into her hair he thrust up, fucking that beautiful mouth until he emptied himself, body still jerking as he released his grip on her. She kissed her way up his body and lay flat against him. “I’ve never had such a nice wake up call.” He growled softly, fingers trailing her skin. “Shall I return the favor?” He asked and kissed the top of her head. “Shall I give you an orgasm to start your day sweet girl?” She lifted her head and looked at him slightly unsure. Keeping his gaze on hers he rolled slowly so she was under him and felt her tense. Kissing her softly she relaxed, her hands flexing over his chest, he gave her a moment. “Just like last night.” He breathed, her face already flush with arousal, and traveled south, kissing every inch of her.

She was already wet for him and although he took a slow and steady approach like last night he added a third digit and filled her. The gentle come hither motion rubbing her g spot, his mouth on her clit, her hand gripped his forearm and the cry of his name from her lips as she came made him smile. That, he decided, was his new favorite sound.

They curled up, he the bigger spoon, and she plummeted into sleep again. Laying there he kissed her hair and breathed in the scent of her, fingers trailing bare skin. “I think I’m in love with you sweet girl.” He whispered. “And that should terrify you. It should make you want to run. I’m no good for you.” He raked his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple. “I’m no good for you but I’m willing to try to be the man you believe I am.” With her on his mind and in his arms, he drifted to sleep and dreamt of uncertainty.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #a softer side #gustaf skarsgard #sexy as fuck

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lots-of-little-pink-clouds · 4 years ago

Text

Black Cadillac Valentines

Summary: A oneshot explaining how the PC from Bloodlines knows the Prince of Tucson, Arizona, Lettow Kaminsky. Also, the Cadillac incident Dove tells you about at the beginning of VTM: Night Road.

Characters: Malkavian PC (VTM: Bloodlines), Heather Poe, Lettow Kaminsky, Dove, Sebastian LaCroix (mentioned).

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660233

February 14th 2005

Briar Rose rots under the sand.

An eagle makes its nest out of blue bones.

Father plucks the feathers from a lark's wings.

Beauregard Sawyer wanders the streets of Tucson, Arizona under the pale light of the moon. All around him, couples walk arm-in-arm on the sidewalk, smiling and laughing and exchanging gifts and kisses.

After arriving in Tucson and presenting themselves to its new Prince last month, Beau and his ghoul, Heather Poe, kept busy. Beau was convinced that something was here, something important. Ever aware of his moods, Heather looked at local real estate agents for a secure haven to live in while Beau began his search. She eventually found a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom basement apartment where the elderly couple who lived in the house above never asked any questions. They officially moved in three days ago.

Whether it was successfully moving in or because it was Valentine's Day, Heather wanted to celebrate and Beau could never say no to his Heather Feather. She was planning something, so he stepped out to give her time to set up.

Beau closes his eyes, readjusts his blue-sunset aviators, and relaxes for the first time in months. Los Angeles was a total bust, but at least its Jester Prince was dust and ashes. Hopefully whoever takes over will be able to clean up the mess the Ankaran Sarcophagus left behind. He takes a deep, calming breath.

The scent of smoke fills his nose.

She got in the wrong Cadillac.

His eyes snap open as he stops in front of the parking lot of a Marriott. He watches as a red-haired woman flings herself out of a burning black Cadillac, pushes herself to her feet, and takes off running past him.

"Isn't that the Prince's Seneschal?" he wonders. Beau's Sight doesn't grant him night vision, but he could swear her silhouette matched that of the hulking Nosferatu woman with the skull face that loomed behind Tucson's Gangrel Prince. Funny, he can't remember her name.

Looking back at the vehicle the woman just vacated, Beau spots a man in a wolf costume hanging halfway out of the driver seat window, screaming and clutching the bleeding remnants of his arm. Ignoring the human, Beau turns back to the woman, flames licking at her heels, as she runs out into the street.

At that moment, a car with its headlights off swerves around the corner at full speed and slams into her. Beau stares as she goes flying, hits the pavement, rolls, and is run over. The car stops and a man in a cream suit jacket climbs out and goes to check on her.

Eagle eyes scan the eastern horizon.

Not yet, he thinks.

He has to keep her safe.

"That's the Prince of Tucson," Beau realizes, bewildered. The Prince of Tucson, Lettow Kaminsky, helps the woman to her feet and pats her down to douse the remaining sparks of fire that cling to her clothes. Beau's attention turns again to the woman and, "Yep, that's definitely his Seneschal."

Then, because his night couldn't get any weirder, a jeep speeds around the corner that the Prince came from. Four heads stick out from the vehicle's open windows and point guns towards the Prince and his right-hand-woman.

Beau immediately ducks into the nearest alleyway, reaching into his hoodie's pocket for his pistol as the sound of gunfire erupts behind him. Screams fill the air. He peeks around the corner and spots the Prince and the Seneschal taking cover behind the Prince's car. The jeep swerves and comes to a stop, the Kindred inside clambering out and taking up defensive positions as pedestrians flee.

The wise decision would be to let them fend for themselves. The Prince and his Seneschal are both Elders. They would be fine. And after LaCroix and the debacle in LA, Beau's never held much stock in the Camarilla or any of its rivals. Kindred and Kine are the same in that sense - both will do whatever it takes to attain power. However...

Father's flock frays and turns to dust.

A lark stretches her wings to embrace the dawn.

Decision made, Beau leans around the corner, raises his pistol, and fires, just missing the head of one of the attackers. Immediately, the person calls to their fellows, drawing attention to the new challenger shooting at them. Their voice cuts out as Beau finally hits his target, the impact knocking them back on the pavement and stunning them.

"Shame that Kindred are so resilient," he thinks. He ducks around the corner again as the other Kindred focus on taking him out. Sticking his head back out as the assailants reload, Beau catches the Prince's eyes and gestures to him.

"Come on! This way!"

Then he steps out from the alley and continues shooting. He watches as the two share a look. The Seneschal finally nods and then they dart out from behind the car, dodging fire as they go.

Beau feels a bullet tear through his gut. He grimaces, throwing himself around the corner and back into the alleyway just as the two Camarilla members reach him. The Seneschal covers them, turning around and firing at their attackers with extreme prejudice.

"Evening Prince," Beau says, using the wall to push himself back to his feet.

"You are... Beauregard, correct?" the Gangrel asks.

"Yeah. My ghoul and I moved here last month." Beau puts a hand over the wound in his side to staunch the bleeding. "I know a place you can hide until they're gone. Or until dawn, whichever comes first. This way." He starts jogging down the alley. Lettow and his Nosferatu companion follow as the shouts of their pursuers ring out behind them.

"Who were those guys anyway?" Beau asks.

"Remnants of the Sabbat that took advantage of the turf war," Lettow replies.

Beau heard about that. From what little he learned from LaCroix and afterwards from rumors, Tucson's Camarilla was embroiled in a turf war. It started four years ago, when the old Ventrue Prince sought to purge the city of the riff raff. That is to say, every Kindred not part of Clan Ventrue.

Many people took offence to that.

Some rebelled, others fled. The Prince's childer took it as an opportunity to latch onto any form of power they could get their hands on and began fighting each other. Soon, they too were as much of a target as the other clans the Prince warred against.

Then in the midst of all that, the Sabbat arrived - led by Beau's sire, LaCroix always loved to mention - and made everything exponentially worse. It was every Kindred for themselves up until Lettow killed the old Prince and took over.

"We need to lose them," the Seneschal says. Footsteps pound on the pavement behind them, the Sabbat giving chase. The Nosferatu huffs, fists clenching white around her gun as she shoots behind her.

A dove with clipped wings and no other place to go.

"We'll find a way," the Prince replies.

"My haven's not too far," Beau says, "If we can shake 'em, I'll lead you straight there."

"You sure we can trust this guy?" the Seneschal asks. Beau feels the Gangrel Prince's sharp eagle gaze settle on his back.

His eyes see all, a gift from someone dear to him.

"For now," Lettow replies with certainty. Then to Beau, he says, "I do not take betrayal lightly. For your sake, you will uphold your end of the bargain."

"And if I don't, you'll dust me?" Beau laughs. "Sounds like someone I used to know. But you don't have to worry, Prince. I always keep my word."

With that, Beau leads them through Tucson's twisting alleyways, letting his feet and the voices tell him which way to go. He guides them through narrow streets and over roof tops, the Sabbat slowly falling behind. The trio eventually lose their pursuers completely when Beau stops, grabs the Seneschal's muscled bicep and the Prince's sleeve and lets the tingles of camouflage cover all three of them. The Sabbat run past none the wiser.

They wait for a time as the confused shouts of the other Kindred gets farther away. Approaching police sirens scare off the remnants. Only after the cops pass does Beau drop the camouflage with a heavy sigh.

"I think we lost them," he says.

"We should get somewhere safe in case they come back," the Nosferatu adds. The Prince nods and turns to Beau.

"Does your offer of sanctuary still apply?"

Beau shrugs. "Sure, why not. It's been a weird day. Night. Whatever."

He leads them back through the maze of alleys. Without the hassle of being tailed, the trio make it to Beau and Heather's haven without difficulty. Beau takes out his key and unlocks the door, leading them inside.

"Beau?" Heather's voice calls from the kitchen, "Is that you?"

"It's me," Beau replies, closing the door and locking it.

Heather rushes to him, red hair whipping behind her. Beau catches her, stumbling backwards as she flings herself at him.

"I missed you," she says, hugging him. He smiles and pats her back.

The Prince coughs, interrupting the moment. Heather quickly lets go. Her face flushes as she recognizes their guests.

"Ran into some friends. They needed a place to stay a bit," Beau shrugs, taking off his aviators and tossing them onto the hall table. "Hope you don't mind. I know you had plans."

"No, no, it's fine," she replies, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shuffles in place, wringing her hands. "Um, Beau?"

At her tone, Beau pauses. "What did you do?"

She bites her lip. He crosses his arms.

"... I caught a fish again."

Beau blinks. Then, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Feather, remember what I told you last time you did this?"

"I'm sorry," she deflates. "But we just moved in, and I wanted to get you something since you've been so stressed lately."

"And I appreciate it, I really do, but it's still super dangerous. What if you got caught?"

Her silence is telling.

"You got caught."

"... I caught two fish."

"Please Heather, please tell me you didn't use the shovel."

She swallows and braces herself. Beau throws his hands up.

"Feather, you know how I feel about the shovel!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Just... Just go," Beau rubs his eyes, desperately wanting to scream. "Where are they?"

"I locked them in the guest room..."

He waves her off, exasperated. He watches her disappear into the living room before turning to their guests. "Are you two hungry? I've got bagged in the fridge, and you're welcome to that, but I gotta take care of this mess."

The Camarilla members stare at him. Beau glances between them.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"See," the Seneschal finally says, turning to Lettow, "I told you he was a Lunatic."

"Come now Dove," the Prince sighs, "That is no way to speak to our host."

"Oh right," Beau thinks, "Her name was Dove." Then the rest of her sentence registered.

"Lunatic, huh? That's a new one."

"It's the eyes," Lettow says. "Because of your sunglasses, it was hard to tell. I believed you were Toreador."

"Huh." Beau pauses. "I honestly don't care either way. Let others see what they wish to see, the truth is always obscured." He shrugs. "But enough of that, we did a lot of running earlier. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Dove replies.

The Prince agrees. "We will make do."

Cold and slimy and unfulfilling.

Blood bags don't provide enough subsistence for Kindred. The ones who subsist entirely on them are either desperate or clinging to the remnants of their humanity. Most prefer obtaining their fill directly from the source. With this in mind, Beau extends another olive branch to them. The voices whisper that something good will come of this relationship.

"If you want, you can help me with the fish," he offers. The two look at each other.

"Fish?" Lettow asks. His lips twitch into a small bemused smile. A dubious expression crosses Dove's face.

Beau grins as he leads them to the guest room. He stops by the closet and pulls out the shovel he and Heather own, hauling it over one shoulder before continuing on. Dried blood sticks to its metal blade.

"Yeah, fish. But not literal fish. I think you'll like it."

#vampire the masquerade #vtmnr #choice of games #cog #fanfic #long #lettow kaminsky #dove (vtmnr)

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