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anythingdrabbleTitle: Temptation
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Author:the_paradigm
Characters/Pairing: Vaan; Basch/Penelo
Rating: PG
Challenge: Amnesty Round, Challenge 352: Crystal
Word Count: 200
Warnings: Age Gap (Romantic Context)
Spoilers: End-Game/Post-Canon.
Summary: Vaan secures the prize, while Basch grapples with his duty, his propriety, and with her. Part IX of a (rampaging) Drabble Sequence. You can read Parts I-VIII here @ Ao3.
Disclaimer: I do not own FFXII or the characters.
Basch staggered from the unforeseen gut-check—then the uppercut—more from surprise than from pain. He taught her this; he taught her this. He had enough wherewithal to bypass the leg-sweep, reach out and swipe her wrist with a forceful grip. Penelo cried out, and his instinct as her former protector was to release her, but she was too good and knew this. He reeled her in like a flailing fish—a prize—and bared his teeth down at her in a glare befitting a disappointed father.
But he was not her father. And—gods—her grey eyes were fire.
—
Vaan slipped out of the ballroom and into the servant’s corridor, laying the kerchief over his forearm as he wove deftly through the other wait staff. He was eager to get this color out of his hair and the stench of Archadia off of his skin. The stone he swiped burned in his pocket, as did the questions in the back of his mind.
House Trajen of Rozarria was up to something vile. He could feel it in the way the auracite pulsed against his chest, as if with a life of its own.
He had to find Penelo. Now.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Author:
the_paradigmCharacters/Pairing: Vaan; Basch/Penelo
Rating: PG
Challenge: Amnesty Round, Challenge 352: Crystal
Word Count: 200
Warnings: Age Gap (Romantic Context)
Spoilers: End-Game/Post-Canon.
Summary: Vaan secures the prize, while Basch grapples with his duty, his propriety, and with her. Part IX of a (rampaging) Drabble Sequence. You can read Parts I-VIII here @ Ao3.
Disclaimer: I do not own FFXII or the characters.
Basch staggered from the unforeseen gut-check—then the uppercut—more from surprise than from pain. He taught her this; he taught her this. He had enough wherewithal to bypass the leg-sweep, reach out and swipe her wrist with a forceful grip. Penelo cried out, and his instinct as her former protector was to release her, but she was too good and knew this. He reeled her in like a flailing fish—a prize—and bared his teeth down at her in a glare befitting a disappointed father.
But he was not her father. And—gods—her grey eyes were fire.
—
Vaan slipped out of the ballroom and into the servant’s corridor, laying the kerchief over his forearm as he wove deftly through the other wait staff. He was eager to get this color out of his hair and the stench of Archadia off of his skin. The stone he swiped burned in his pocket, as did the questions in the back of his mind.
House Trajen of Rozarria was up to something vile. He could feel it in the way the auracite pulsed against his chest, as if with a life of its own.
He had to find Penelo. Now.
