#as long as the creature gives us permission ofc

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

The Fox & the Squirrel- Chapter 17

Summary: Chasing yet another demon in a long line of hunts, the Winchesters get help from an unlikely source. But their new recruit isn’t exactly who she says she is. Savannah is used to looking over her shoulder. Life in hiding doesn’t leave much room for enjoyment, but traveling with the Winchesters just may give her a new lease on life.

Fic pairing: Dean Winchester/OFC Savannah Hart

Trigger warnings: elements of horror and witchcraft, references to past torture/trauma, Crowley is a dick, lies and deception, mutual pining, flirting, sex, typical Winchester shenanigans.

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242644/chapters/37972217

“I think it's a Rakshasa,” Savannah said, breaking the silence in the car. “It fits with this case you guys worked a few years ago.” She looked up to the front seat for confirmation to find Dean looking at her in the rearview mirror with pride. She smiled, warmth filling her as she turned her attention back to the hunting journal in her lap. 

     “You know that was one of Sam’s favorite cases,” Dean said over his shoulder. Sam looked up from his laptop to glare at Dean. “What?” Sam muttered something that made Dean chuckle, and Savannah turned back to her own research with a smile. 

     They stopped at a rest area a few hours later, Savannah following behind as Dean led her into the surrounding woods. Sam had elected to hang back at the car in order to do more research on the case. 

     “What are we doing here?” she asked as Dean came to a stop near a fallen tree.

     “Rakshasas are vulnerable to pure brass,” Dean replied, shrugging off the bag on his shoulder. “They’re shapeshifters, with the ability to become invisible.”

     “And they also have super strength and speed, right?” Savannah was familiar with many supernatural creatures, but Rakshasas weren’t part of her wheelhouse. Demons, succubi and vampires were more her speed. Well, and poltergeists and wraiths and werewolves too, now.

     “Right,” Dean graced her with a smile, pulling cans of soda out of the bag and lining them along the fallen tree. “They also can’t enter a home without permission.” 

     “Right, I remember about the last one turning itself into a clown to trick kids to let them inside,” Savannah suppressed a shiver. “That’s not creepy at all.”

     “Sammy’s terrified of clowns,” Dean snickered. “I was kidding earlier, he hated that case.”

     “Understandable. So...what are we doing?”

     “ You are gonna learn how to throw a knife,” Dean replied, reaching into the bag and handing her a knife. “Pure brass. Go ahead, take it.” 

     This was fine. Brass she could touch without a problem. 

     Even knowing this, Savannah had to force herself to grab the knife, a small sliver of fear making her worry it was silver. 

     The knife was heavy, but well balanced. She turned it over in her hands a few times, getting used to the weight. Dean flipped his knife, catching it easily even though his eyes were on her.

     Savannah was surprised by the twist of want that bloomed in her gut. That shouldn’t be attractive. Truth be told Dean had a lot of skills that someone of her species should not find attractive, but here she was.

     “Ready?” he asked. When she nodded he flipped the knife again, this time taking the blade between his fingertips. “Let me show you how it’s done, and then we’ll break it down, okay?” 

     “Sounds good.” Dean nodded, facing the fallen log and raising the knife. He turned to face the log, raised the knife and let it fly, easily taking out one of the cans. Savannah blinked owlishly at the practiced ease with which he took out a second and third can. 

     “See? Nothin’ to it,” Dean grinned before retrieving the knives. “Ready to try it out?”

     “Sure, but come on; you can’t really expect me to hit those!” 

     “It’s not that hard once you get the technique down. You’ll do great,” Dean replied. “Come stand here, by me.” 

     “You’re not allowed to laugh when I miss.” 

     “Hadn’t planned on it. Everyone misses, especially at first. Seriously, you’re gonna be fine. Stand here, feet shoulder width apart,” Dean steered her by the shoulders, nudging her feet with the toe of his boot. “Hold the knife between your fingers, eye level, there you go- now aim and throw.”

     The knife sailed past the first can pitifully, and Savannah grumbled with disappointment.

     “Try again.” Dean pressed another knife into her hand, guiding her through the motions again. Her second knife sank into the log with a low thunk. The third grazed its intended can, making it wobble atop the tree bark.

     “It’s okay,” Dean said, thankfully not mocking her for the cattywampus trajectory of her knives. “I’m not expecting perfection. Knife-throwing, or any skill that requires accuracy, takes time to develop. For now I just want to know that you know what you’re doing in case it becomes a necessity. We’ll keep working on it.”

     “Okay,” Savannah nodded before going to grab her knives. 

     Half an hour later she was beyond frustrated, having yet to land a solid hit on any of the cans. She’d grazed a couple, nicking the sides or skimming the tops. 

     “You’re doing fine,” Dean soothed her from the sidelines. “Honestly. You’re holding tension in your shoulders and it’s throwing you off. Take a deep breath, find your center or whatever, and try again.” 

     “Okay, Mr. Miyagi.” Savannah scoffed as she stretched her neck. 

     “Shaddap,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Throw the damn knife.” Savannah rolled her shoulders and faced the log, focusing her attention on the first can. She raised the knife, exhaled, and threw. The knife struck the can dead center, releasing an angry spray of carbonated foam. 

     “There ya go!” Dean crowed from the sidelines.

     “You’re a good teacher, you know. You might want to consider integrating a reward system for good behavior though.” Dean snickered.

     “Oh yeah? What kind of rewards should I offer?” he grinned at her knowingly when she met his eyes, and she felt her face flush. “Oh, I see,” he teased. “Alright, how ‘bout this? You take out the rest of those cans, and you’ve got a deal.” 

     “What?! I can’t do that!” Savannah squawked in protest. Dean shrugged nonchalantly, enjoying riling her up. 

     “Guess you don’t want your reward then.” A cheeky smirk lit up his face.

     “Oh, for- fine,” Savannah huffed, making Dean laugh. She faced the log and took aim, pointedly ignoring the laughter coming from Dean. “Not gonna correct me?” 

     “Nope. You got this.” Savannah rolled her eyes and focused on her target. She took a deep breath, lined up her shot, and stepped forward, releasing the knife as she exhaled. 

     The knife impaled the intended can with another satisfying thunk and spray of soda. Savannah shrieked, amazed she’d hit her target. She turned to Dean to see him staring at the fallen can in amazement. 

     “What are you starin’ at me for? Do it again!” he cried. He handed her another knife, gesturing for her to throw it excitedly. 

     Savannah repeated her steps, taking the time to slow her breathing before releasing the third knife. 

     Thunk-hiss-clink .

     “Holy shit,” Dean laughed. “Again,” he produced a fourth knife, pressing it into her hands eagerly. “Halfway to that reward.” 

     Call it stubbornness or divine intervention, but Savannah managed to take out the remaining cans on the log. Dean was stunned, and Savannah was thrilled. 

     “I’ll take that reward now.” She said cheekily. Dean laughed, pushing off the tree he’d been leaning against to pick up the scattered knives. He gathered them quickly, meeting Savannah where she stood. 

     “You’re demanding.” he griped as he brushed stray hair from her face. 

     “I don’t hear you complaining.” Savannah murmured just before he pressed his lips to hers. He let her control the kiss, just like before, grinning when she pulled him closer and cupped his face in her hands.

     “Did you just hold that over my head so I’d do better?” Savannah asked when they parted.

     “Don’t be ridiculous; I was gonna kiss you whether you hit the cans or not,” Dean chuckled. “But the motivation doesn’t work when you know that, dork.” he booped her nose and smiled, laughing when she slapped at his chest with a scoff. She pulled him by his jacket and captured his lips again, the knives clinking as Dean dropped them to the ground and wrapped his arms around her neck. He licked at her bottom lip, groaning appreciatively when she tightened her grip on his shirt. Her hands found their way under his flannel, fingertips exploring the exposed skin at his waist as she pressed herself against him. 

     They both groaned when his phone rang, ruining the moment. Dean rolled his eyes when he saw it was Sam. 

     “To be continued,” he promised before answering the phone. “Heya Sammy!” 

~~~~

     “Finally.” Dean grumbled after the door clicked shut, draining his beer as the roar of the Impala’s engine filled the room. He’d been chomping at the bit to finish what they started at the rest stop. 

     “What?” Savannah looked up from her book, surprised (and pleased) to see Dean so close.

     “I wasn’t finished with you yet,” Dean said, dipping his head down to capture her lips. “Can I persuade you away from your reading?” Savannah pretended to think, pouting her lips as Dean looked on. 

     “Ask me nicely,” she offered. Dean grinned and gave her a feather light kiss, sweet and full of promise. Savannah set her book aside and cupped the back of his neck, fingers gliding through his soft hair. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.” Dean hummed in satisfaction. 

     “Trust me?” he asked against her lips. 

     “Yes.” Savannah had a mere second to ponder the fact that yes, she did trust Dean, before he was lifting her in a fireman’s carry and moving to the bed. She looped an arm around his neck, nuzzling against his jaw with her head. She felt so small in Dean’s arms, so cherished, for he carried her with the same care that a dragon clutches its treasures. He set her down gently, laying her back against the pillows before sinking a knee onto the mattress.

     “Is this okay?” His proximity made her equal parts excited and anxious. This was the closest to her she’d allowed a person since escaping Crowley. Savannah swallowed nervously, and nodded, quickly deciding she enjoyed his warmth when he lay beside her. He turned those green eyes on her, so intense they made shivers run down her spine. “So gorgeous.” he murmured, slowly leaning in to kiss her. Savannah’s eyes fluttered closed as his lips met hers, his breath fanning over her skin as fingers brushed through her hair ginger-soft to loop the strands over her ear. 

     Savannah slung her arm around Dean’s body, fingers coiling in the flannel at his back. Dean dropped the kiss with a snorted giggle as she tried to wiggle her other arm under him, raising up to let her snake her other arm around his body and quickly reclaiming her lips when she pulled him flush against her. Savannah leaned into him, sighing happily when his arm wrapped around her back, her leg moving to hang over his hip as if on instinct when he pulled her even closer. Savannah could feel a hint of his hardness between her thighs, and she shivered in his grasp. Dean’s hand traveled down her body, fingers digging into her skin as it traveled to the leg she’d thrown over his waist. He gave a grunt of appreciation as he glided his hand up her thigh and around to her ass, eliciting a squeak of surprise when he squeezed the soft flesh. 

     Savannah’s body acted on autopilot, rolling onto her back and pulling Dean with her, her hands roving up his back to cling to his biceps as he slotted his hips between hers. His rough hands cradled her face as his kisses grew faster, using her gasp to his advantage to slip his tongue into her mouth. She dug her nails into his arms, moaning when he gave a short pump of his hips. White heat and lightning shot through her body, and she wanted more of everything he was giving her. 

     “Dean, please.” She begged as his hard cock rubbed teasingly against her clit through their clothes. 

     “Yeah? You like that?” he grunted breathlessly, canting his hips against hers and making her quake with need. Her belly felt tight and her breath hitched, tingles of pleasure racing along her nerve endings. Her mind was consumed by the pleasure Dean was giving her and how good it felt. “I gotcha, princess.” 

     “Yes, fuck, please-ah!” Dean thrust against her again, and Savannah’s brain short-circuited. She dug her nails into Dean’s skin, thighs hugging his sinful hips as he grunted with each thrust. Savannah let her head fall back onto the pillow, each breath a pleasured sigh as Dean nuzzled at her throat and drove her mad. They rutted against each other until Savannah came, letting out a sharp cry of pleasure that was quickly swallowed by Dean’s mouth. 

     “You tryin’ to get us kicked out?” he teased as she panted and whimpered against his mouth.

     “Shut up.”

     “I’m just saying, you’re being awfully loud.”

     “If I’m loud, isn’t it your fault?” Savannah asked.

     “Fair point,” Dean winked at her, grinning when she giggled. “I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, take care of this.”

     “Oh, I could-”

     “It’s okay, really. Don’t wanna overwhelm you.” Dean slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom. Savannah stayed frozen under the covers until she heard the water start. 

     What the hell had just happened? Her whole body felt heavy and spent, yet somehow...invigorated? Had she accidentally fed on Dean?

     Savannah quickly nixed the idea. She hadn’t felt the urge to feed, only to let Dean drive her to new heights of desire. Her head was swimming and her eyes were growing heavy. She felt warm and content, easily able to take a nap. 

     With the sound of running water in her ears and the amusing half-formed thought of Dean being some sort of incubus on her mind, Savannah dozed off just as Dean had left her.

#meowmeow writes #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #the fox & the squirrel

[convexicalcrow]

Love how Pharaoh Cub and Scar's relationship is in your stories. Defiantly want to see Scar being smug when he wins against the Pharaoh, only for it to vanish when he still gets dominated by that man. lol. (Side note, can I ask for some details on the Pharaoh's personality vs Cub's? And in how they differ in treating people?)

Oh yes, when I have the last chapter of the first part of the Lost Prince AU posted tomorrow tomorrow, I'll have to get back to the Pharaoh TCG fic, now that Scar's finally won. I have a few ideas brewing. >:D

As for the Pharaoh vs Cub, I have some thoughts. Here I'm talking just about them as characters and how I tend to write them. And this does touch on shippy things and D/s dynamics but more to illustrate the differences, just as a head's up for ppl not comfy with that kind of thing. <3

in the context of the Pharaoh as his own separate being, he's very... domineering, in a way. He's a god, of course he's better than everyone else. He knows his own power and how to use it. This is not to say he's just a tyrant, because he's not. He just demands respect and will punish anyone who fails to give it. In his land, in his pyramids, the Pharaoh's rule is absolute and you will obey him. But he will be sweet to those he cares about and loves. Even in submission to, say, Beef, it's a choice, a command, he's setting the rules of their engagement and their dynamic so he gets what he wants out of it.

also ofc he possesses Cub, he IS Cub, he knows what that boy likes ffs. XD

Cub isn't like that. He's more of a brat. Maybe he'll obey, but maybe he won't. He does his own thing, but it's not coming from a sense of divine authority, of being over everyone else. He's just entertaining himself. Cub's the 'seek forgiveness rather than ask permission' kind of brat (most of the time anyway). He's also not a mouthy, loud brat either. He's the quiet type, the ones you don't really notice until you realise the mess they've caused lol. Not really interested in leadership; more interested in building secret tunnels and stealing artefacts lol. He's a sneaky boy. :D But he also cares a lot too. He knows their boundaries and where to draw the line, because he's silly but he's not stupid.

Unlike the Pharaoh who is in control when he submits, for Cub, he really isn't. At least, obedience is earned (or taken) by higher powers, whether that's King Ren or Scar or the Vex or the Pharaoh, it doesn't matter. For the Pharaoh, there is no higher power than him; for Cub, that isn't the case. Lack of control is what he likes.

You can contrast this nicely with Cub and Scar and their relationship with the Vex. For Scar, there's a more business-like feel to their arrangement. He doesn't kill Vexes bc he's not allowed, and they give him all the riches he could ever want and place him in positions of power like the Mayorship. For Cub, it's totally different. It's subservience to a higher power, a possessive power, something deserving of worship and respect. It brings power too, and magic, and prosperity, as long as he gives his body to the Vex to do with as they please.

This is why Scar is the Power, and Cub is the Vessel. Scar represents the power and magic of the Vex, and Cub is what that power fills and is channelled through. Adding False as the Will gives that magic purpose and direction. She makes their work more effective, though they've done plenty on their own.

The Pharaoh would never bow to the Vex the way Cub does. He has his own magic that is just as powerful, if not moreso, than that of the Vex. He sees his Vex magic as useful, but he has better tools at his disposal, so he uses them instead. After all, he is a god. Gods do not bend their knee to silly creatures like Vex. But he does lean on it a little with Cub, because Cub is weak to it like Scar is.

The Pharaoh's magic is also very hot and fiery, whereas the Vex prefer ice and coldness. They are opposites in that regard. The Pharaoh's magic simply burns all the effectiveness of Vex magic away, which is why he doesn't really use it himself. He's the son of Ra, the sun god. Ice magic is useless against him. The Vex can't possess a god either; he's not a player, in the way Cub was a player before he was Pharaoh. I mean, he IS, but he also really isn't. The Kingly Ka, the divine soul of Horus that makes someone Pharaoh, is what makes him divine. He's no longer simply human after that point.

The Kingly Ka was never passed on to young Cub tho. It's not young Cub we see as the Pharaoh in the TCG arena, but old Cub. Pharaoh Cub. The one who is divine. It's on the card, too. Cub is not the Pharaoh, he's a separate being now. He died at the end of s7 after building a pyramid, which is traditionally the tomb for a king, and s8 is Cub's metaphorical journey through the afterlife before he returns for s9. This is me getting back on my Book of Caverns bullshit, but it is the title of a real Ancient Egyptian book of the afterlife, and what did Cub spend s8 building? A canyon filled with caverns! The moon crashing into the earth can be seen as his way of understanding his death and transformation/rebirth into his young skin in s9. bc that's how I'm dealing with the whole 's8 was a simulation' lore from RenDoc.

Anyway. I think that's enough brainrot for now. I don't want this getting any more unhinged than it already is lol. :D If you have further questions, please do ask! I'd love to ramble about this some more. <3

#convexical asks #hermitshipping #fanfic #convex #cubfan135 #gtwscar #cubscar #cub/beef #vex cub #pharaoh cub #vex lore #pharaoh cub lore #D/s dynamics #character meta #i'm still brainrotting about cub's s8 don't mind me #if he's not going to make lore for his transformation then i'll have to do it myself gdi

[darsynia]

I Know No Other Way Than This | Ch 5

(Bruce Banner/OFC, Tony Stark & Bruce Banner Friendship, post-Avengers 1 Soulmate AU multichapter)

gif by @scottxlogan

MCU Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Prev | Next

Summary: Bruce tried to forget he had soulmate words entirely, but on the day of the Chitauri attack, he returned from his stint as the Hulk to find that his black words had turned silver. His soulmate must have watched him shift from the Other Guy into himself and said them while he was unconscious… Length: 2,159 Note: if I’d have found this chapter title before I started this, the entire story would be named Parallel Postulate, instead. Basically, Euclid’s Fifth Postulate is describing a line that falls across two other lines. It says that if the angle created by each ‘corner’ that the joins make are less than 90%, then the other two lines will eventually meet at a single point. Tony is the line that falls, and Cicely and Bruce are the two lines that will eventually meet! Tags: @starryeyes2000 @arrthurpendragon @ronearoundblindly @themaradaniels

Excerpt:

“How’s it going, Aris-Toss-All? Whatcha thinking?”

“Hulk was trying to warn you I think. The thing that set me off was finding out her stalker wasn’t a stalker at all. He was being paid to watch her, referred to a ‘them’ that had missed a payment.” 

There was a minute or two delay in hearing Tony’s next response.

“All right, JARVIS is on the case, thanks to what you already told him and some enhanced directives from me. But Bruce? I think you’re going to have to really watch those videos and see what you can see. AI is one thing, but--”

“No, I agree,” Bruce sighed.

“Don’t fret. Your impulsive instinct got us the jump on the guy.”

“My existence is harmful to her, Tony.”

Chapter Five: Euclid’s Fifth Postulate

Bruce’s left side was still a bit bruised when he woke up, despite the healing factor of the Hulk. He could feel it, tender and unfamiliar, as he rolled over onto his back on the springy floor of the room Tony had built for him. It had been a long time since he had felt a true serious injury; Bruce wondered exactly how long. Years, that was for sure. All of those injuries, even the one where he’d actually shot himself, had resulted in the Other Guy taking over and his body repairing the damage. For it not to have been fully repaired by the time Bruce was back in control of himself must have meant an extensive injury.

He looked up at the ceiling above him and found the answer.

There was a circular metal collection of slabs, not quite over his head, but close. They were clustered and angled, looking a lot like something he’d seen in the science fiction show Stargate, called the Iris. There it had been used to cover up the titular gate to prevent anything from moving through it without permission. Had Tony built a shaft through his tower to this room? Had he dropped Bruce all that way?

“Dr. Banner, Sir has requested that I monitor your condition and inform him when you are prepared to speak with him over the comm. Shall I give you some more time to adjust or are you ready now?”

He was used to JARVIS, but there was something strange about hearing the AI speaking so casually here, of all places.

“Go on, but I’d like you to do a welfare check on Cicely Besnard. The information I learned that set me off directly relates to her safety.”

“Certainly, Dr. Banner.”

It stood to reason that Tony had a protocol in place to make sure that simply telling him what had brought forth the Hulk wouldn’t do it again, but Bruce remembered what it was, and that information was still relevant. At least, he hoped it was.

“If it isn’t the Jaw-y Green Giant! How much do you hate watching videos of yourself as your chartreuse creature?”

“It’s not my favorite thing, Tony. Why?”

“He was really chatty during the flight. Seemed like what he was trying to say was important, but I couldn’t figure it out.”

Bruce was genuinely surprised. He sat up, resting his forearms on his knees, frowning. “Is there audio?”

“Sure. Here, ignore the wind noise:”

He understood what Tony meant as an audio file started to play. The sound of the wind whipping was distracting, but then the Hulk started talking.

“BRUCE’S ANN. ANN DANGER. NEW ROSS HIRE NEW EMIL WATCH BRUCE’S ANN.”

He recognized some of the names, but not their context.

“Bruce?”

“Give me a few minutes!” Bruce yelled at Tony. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and added, “I’m not that angry, I just need to think, okay?” He was on edge, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d lose it again and Cicely would be in even more danger. Waiting to hear back from Stark’s AI was making him antsy.

“There’s clothes through a human-sized door activated by your fingerprint, light it up, will you JARVIS?”

Bruce stood and looked around until he saw a (green, of course) blinking light above a door-shaped indent in the padding of the walls. He walked over and activated the controls, opening it up to find a few outfits hanging on the wall. One of them was a t-shirt with Oscar the Grouch on it, which had Bruce laughing despite the serious moment.

“Dr. Banner? I can report that Cicely Besnard is currently at home. The man who has been seen following her around was not visible on any of the surveillance taken from her journey.”

“That’s less encouraging than it sounds, JARVIS. Someone’s hiring people to tail her, that’s what made me lose it. We need to tell her, and either move her somewhere safe or arrange for some kind of security until we can find out why. And it sure as hell better not be because of me.”

“Shall I inform Mr. Stark about this development?”

“Please.”

Bruce dressed quickly, his mind on the names that Hulk had used. He’d sounded upset, in as much as the Other Guy could have variations in demeanor. Ross was obvious, and so was Emil, for that matter, but calling them new was throwing Bruce. And ‘Ann?’ He couldn’t think of any--

Wait.

Betty had told him about a nurse who had been particularly kind to her in the hospital after his initial rampage as the Hulk. The woman had changed shifts, altered her schedule, so she could be there for Betty. That nurse’s name had been Ann.

He stumbled out of the changing room, finding the light switch and turning it off with a weak hand. Did Hulk remember that? The creature’s thought processes were primitive, he knew, but were they associative?

‘New’ Ross. ‘New’ Emil. ‘Bruce’s Ann.’ Bruce’s nurse. A bad guy called in an accomplice to watch Bruce’s nurse?

“How’s it going, Aris-Toss-All? Whatcha thinking?”

“Hulk was trying to warn you I think. The thing that set me off was finding out her stalker wasn’t a stalker at all. He was being paid to watch her, referred to a ‘them’ that had missed a payment.” 

There was a minute or two delay in hearing Tony’s next response.

“All right, JARVIS is on the case, thanks to what you already told him and some enhanced directives from me. But Bruce? I think you’re going to have to really watch those videos and see what you can see. AI is one thing, but--”

“No, I agree,” Bruce sighed.

“Don’t fret. Your impulsive instinct got us the jump on the guy.”

“My existence is harmful to her, Tony.”

Just saying it out loud hurt. He’d been looking forward to seeing her in person, after warning the stalker off, even though he wouldn’t have approached her. The Hulk’s determination to pass along Bruce’s message in the only way he could think of was very worrisome to Bruce. It meant that Cicely was more important to him than he’d thought she was, which was already too much.

“Seems to me it’s too late to worry about that. If there’s no way to avoid complicating her life, shouldn’t you both at least benefit from it?”

“You got an old laptop you can put on your internal network so I can watch from in here? I don’t think I’m ready to head out just yet,” Bruce asked, ignoring Tony’s question entirely.

“Man, you have no idea how tempted I am to try to set up something on one of those PlaySkool tablets. I won’t, though. I know you’re taking this seriously.”

“Yes, I am.”

Bruce had been looking through files and sorting them into various folders for about five hours when Tony showed up in his Iron Man suit with a person-sized cot, and some blankets. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Bruce said, standing up and holding his hands to the small of his back like a man thirty years his senior. “Got carried away.”

“Hey, I’m the last person to chastise a good work binge. Getting any headway?”

“There are at least two of them. The guy I scared away and another man,” Bruce said grimly. “JARVIS did some background, and I’d just like to say that if I weren’t pretty sure this was about the Hulk, I’d be seriously concerned about your access to resources that cross ethics boundaries.”

He was being mild. It seemed like JARVIS had the ability to do things that if the US Government did them, they’d be hearing about UN violations for spying on its own citizens. Intellectually, he knew that private citizens were held to a lesser standard, but when it came to some of the things that he’d been involved in over the course of his life, Bruce didn’t see much difference in the kinds of people who were willing to cross those lines. That Tony Stark was one of them was concerning. It wouldn’t take much to nudge him over into the category of people whose well-meaning concepts were twisted into something horrible.

Bruce would have hoped that the things he’d read about at the Stark Expo a few years back would have taught the man something.

“Bottom line?” Tony asked.

“You’re going to need to send someone to approach her. Maybe Romanoff?” he sighed and once again pushed back the protective urgency he’d been feeling all evening.

“Why wouldn’t you be the one--”

“Okay, you’re Cicely, you recognize me as the person you said something innocuous to only for it to turn out to be a soulmark on my body. You ran away, but I’ve found you, and uh oh, here I am to warn you that someone other than me is stalking you, and it’s probably my fault. How will you react? Favorably, do you think?” Bruce shook his head.

“You watched her do research on you, Bruce. She knows you’re a scientist. The woman’s smart, she can figure out that it’s only logical that you tracked her down. It’s not like you picked her out of a list of women.” Tony flew up to the iris-looking metal door in the ceiling. “JARVIS says you still have some bruising. Should I fit this with some sort of net?”

“Focus, Tony!” Bruce said, irritated. His own comfort was far from a priority right now. “Ideally we set up someone to speak to her as she leaves for work in the morning. Whoever is tracking her was almost certainly warned that we’re onto them.”

“I can send Clint to watch the entrance now, if it would make you feel better,” Tony said, flying back down and landing near Bruce.

“It would.”

“I’ve got at least five empty apartments here, you know. The commute wouldn’t be too bad, and--”

Bruce’s frustration exploded into a tirade. “I can’t get close to this woman, Stark! Look what happened when she vaguely said something in my direction!”

“Wow, you actually do get green around the ears. I thought that was a euphemism!”

Bruce leaned over with his palms on his knees and started doing his breathing. Whether or not there was some kind of genetic imperative to caring for and/or protecting one’s soulmate, he felt responsible for the woman’s safety. She’d come into contact with him, and shortly afterwards, she’d become a target. Tony’s insistence that he remain involved with trying to get her into a safer situation was quite literally driving him insane.

“I’d kick you out of the tower to put her in instead but you’re kind of the one guy who should stick around,” Tony pointed out.

“We neutralize the threat, let her get on with her life. It’s that simple,” Bruce said.

“That’s right up there with ‘create world peace, everyone is happy,’ but okay.” Tony was hovering over Bruce in a way that would look nonchalant except for the way he lifted higher every time Bruce looked up at him. “I’ll send Clint to watch out for her overnight, and in the morning, Nat will drop by for a friendly chat. She’s good at undercover bullshit. Maybe something like a routine sweep of suspicious persons caught two men that had been subsequently seen on surveillance footage following her.”

Bruce let out a breath. “That could work,” he allowed. “Especially if Natasha questions her gently about whether she knows the guys. It could come across like a sting on them, not an operation to protect her.”

“Okay, it’s settled. Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?” Tony asked, sounding entirely too excited at the prospect.

“I already know about the book Go The Fuck To Sleep, Tony, but nice try,” Bruce laughed.

“Damn. I bought it to swap out for one of the books Cap takes to Children’s to read to the sick kids every month, but it turns out he actually does his due diligence and checks the books before he leaves. Knew it was me, too,” Tony lamented.

“Get out of here before your soulmate blames me for your absence. Good night,” Bruce ordered.

“Yes, Dad,” Tony said.

“Wow, no snarky nickname?” Bruce couldn’t resist.

“All I came up with on the fly was ‘Father Throws Best,’” Tony shrugged.

Next chapter, Bruce does his best not to get attached as he seeks to make life better for his soulmate-- but comes to the realization that his life got better after the attack on New York.

#bruce banner x oc #tony stark & bruce banner #soulmate au #bruce banner fanfiction #tony and bruce friendship #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bruce banner thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy #bruce banner is wrong #tony stark meddles in his friends' lives #ocappreciation

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Those Linked by Destiny (2)

Summary: Bucky, Sam, and Natasha are on a mission to once again defeat Hydra who this time had opened a time portal that unleashed monsters and beasts that were extinct for centuries for good reason. On the way, they try to recruit the only remaining person who had any knowledge on how to defeat these creatures. Her kind also almost extinct. A Witcher.

Fandoms: Avengers, The Witcher

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Witcher!OFC (Female)

Warnings: Angst (coz this is me), Dry Dark Humour, Violence, Gore, Lots of Blood, Burning Sarcasm, Lots of Cussing

A/N: Hello, beautiful creatures! I’m back with a new hurricane of a crossover. This continues on from my completed series There’s More Than One Way To Start An Apocalypse (AvengersxSupernatural) but this can be read by itself. I made this an OFC instead of an xReader since I needed to be specific with how the Witcher character looked. I hope you enjoy and I welcome all kinds of feedback.

No permission is granted to repost my work. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Masterlist

2: Terms of Payment

Sam woke with a start taking loud deep breaths, his lungs feeling like they were burning. His hands began patting his naked torso urgently as he remembered that he had been severely injured. He found no traces of injury though aside from the dried blood that should have accompanied open wounds.

What sorcery was this?

His companions were alerted by the sudden noise that broke the peaceful silence. Bucky quickly jumped to his feet off of the sofa he had been sleeping on and knelt at his friend's side to carefully check him. Natasha almost fell off the arm chair she had folded herself into, choosing to forego the comfortable king size bed upstairs in favor of being nearer to her team. Prima slowly straightened her back in her corner, not even bothering to open her eyes.

"Sam! How are you feeling?" Bucky said gripping his shoulder and staring at him intently.

His eyes snapped to Bucky. He had been so disoriented and out of it that he hadn't even checked his surroundings first. He mentally scolded himself for that.

"I feel fine. I think," he answered still feeling confused as to how exactly he was fine. He was feeling better than fine as if his injuries had not happened at all. His attention was stolen when a small vial landed softly on his blanketed lap.

"Drink it."

He blinked at the complete stranger comfortably stretched out six feet from him that he hadn't even noticed until she spoke. There was something about the commanding tone that made him follow her instruction without question. He choked and spluttered on the liquid when she opened her eyes and met his.

"What the damn hell?"

Natasha swatted the back of his head making him flinch. "Don't be rude. That's Prima. She saved your sorry ass."

"Wait. You're Prima?"

She smirked, a gesture that oddly made a shiver run down Sam's spine. There was such a sharp disturbing contrast between her playfully colorful outer appearance and the cold almost malicious expression she wore.

"Sorry to disappoint," she drawled.

"Disappoint isn't exactly the word I would use."

She chuckled lightly before eyeing Natasha. "I have fulfilled my end of the agreement. Your friend is alive and well and this should consider us even. You may leave in the morning."

She pulled herself to her feet causing the cat to jump off her lap. She intended to make her way up to her bedroom to sleep off the rest of the night, but was halted by three sets of serious eyes boring into her. She read Natasha's expression and sighed in defeat.

"What?"

"We need your help, Prima," Natasha said, a soft plea in her tone.

"I was under the impression that I had already helped," she grunted. "What is this really about?"

"Hydra," Bucky said simply, the disgust in his voice apparent.

Prima rolled her eyes. "No. Hydra is your problem. Hydra is an Avengers problem, not mine."

Natasha shook her head and stared at her in worry. "This time is different, Prima."

Prima held her finger up to stop the conversation urgently as her ears picked up a sound that she had not heard for over two centuries now. It was a low rumbling malicious growl followed by a howl that pierced the night.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky whispered under his breath, his sensitive hearing picking up what the Witcher had.

Two more howls interrupted the night. Distinct. Angry. Out for blood. There was more than one.

"Werewolves," Prima said picking up her axe nonchalantly and making her way to her potions. "At least three."

She picked up a bottle and a rag from the shelf. Bucky looked on curiously as she soaked the rag with the contents of the bottle and began casually wiping it on the blades of her axe. The roar grew close enough that Sam and Natasha were able to hear it. They were closing in.

All three Avengers sat ram rod straight, their bodies automatically tense and at attention at the impending threat. Bucky scowled at how unbothered and unrushed Prima appeared.

What the hell was she doing polishing her weapon now of all times?

The Winter Soldier grunted as he stood up and made his way out of the backdoor. Sam and Natasha were following close behind with their own weapons at the ready by their sides.

"Sera taught us how to deal with werewolves. We got this," Sam affirmed to the team as they stepped out into the chill of the late night.

The growls grew louder and out from the thicket of trees emerged three towering werewolves like they've never seen before. Much taller than humans even in their hunched stance, bulky and all muscle, long sharp claws, and topped off by a snarling wolf head. It was a disturbing twisted blend of human and wolf. It was nothing like the werewolves that they had seen. These were more monstrous, more vicious, more detached from their humanity. They were also fast approaching.

"What the fuck?" Natasha breathed taking a step back.

The three of them were so preoccupied trying to process the scene in front of them that they didn't register Prima coming from behind them until she stood a few steps in front with her axe comfortably hooked over her shoulder out of habit.

The three werewolves let out a threatening collective roar before charging as a unit toward the house. The Avengers were on high alert at the movement, but Prima remained unbothered in her stance.

"Prima, watch out!" Sam yelled over the heavy thumping of wolf feet. He gripped his shield and got ready to toss it straight through their necks.

Prima answered by turning her head to show them her profile which had a chilling smirk on it. She lifted her arm out with her fingers in a peculiar formation as the monsters rushed forward. A single word escaped her lips.

"Ignis."

Jesus fuck!

Bucky stared wide eyed and open mouthed as a wide angry stream of blazing fire blasted from her outstretched hand and burned through the werewolves. They were in the middle of screaming in pain when she launched herself at them swinging her axe over her head and efficiently slicing through one clear through its neck.

She gripped her axe this time with both hands and pulled it apart to transform it to two separate axes held comfortably in each hand. She swung both in a deadly dance of glinting metal that quickly sliced through the remaining werewolves. Prima turned around to face them with her alabaster face and sunny dress splattered with blood, her pupils narrowed, her lips curved in a smug smile, and her dripping axes hung by her sides. The soft glow of the moon only served to highlight the maniacal glint in her eyes.

Bucky thought she looked hauntingly beautiful.

She sauntered back to them as she clicked the axes back together and hooked it as usual over her shoulder. She wiped the blood from her free hand on her dress which served to only smear the carnage already on there.

"Grab the shovels from the greenhouse. This area is private property but we must burn and bury the bodies in case the townspeople happen upon them."

Sam and Bucky nodded before ducking back to retrieve the shovels. Natasha went back inside as well and returned shortly to hand a towel to Prima who was now cleaning up as best she can with the garden hose. They both made their way to the men who had now begun to dig near the dead werewolves. The cat had exited the house and followed closely behind its master sensing that it was now safe.

There was a long moment with no words exchanged as they all focused on the task at hand. It went by much faster with all four of them working together. The men were rolling the werewolves into the pit when Natasha decided to break the tension.

"Didn't take you for a cat person."

Prima snorted but smiled as she stroked the cat's head that had decided to perch on her shoulders. "The eyes not give it away?"

Sam dumped some gasoline in the hole and threw a lit lighter in with it. The fire caught immediately but Bucky thought to himself that the flames weren't as magnificent as those from Prima. Natasha shifted from one foot to another trying to decide how to start the conversation she needed to have. Her target this time had already rejected her initial request for help. She would have to reconsider her approach. Prima decided to make the choice for her.

"Would you like to discuss inside or would you like us to roast marshmallows over the fire first?"

Natasha frowned at the joke made in poor taste, but the Witcher seemed to be further amused by her reaction. She tilted her head toward the cabin signalling them all to go inside leaving behind them the raging bonfire.

The Avengers and the Witcher sat around the dining table with each of them clutching a fresh cup of coffee in their hands. It was their second cup already as they debriefed her on what had been happening. Sera had undone the Snap. The Hunters together with the Avengers had defeated a divine threat. Now Hydra had somehow been able to open a time portal and unleashed all the monsters from her time.

"Fuck," Prima growled and pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt the migraine creeping in. "I spent 400 fucking years by myself driving every single one of those things into extinction. Enough to take it down to a level that Hunters would be sufficient to handle them."

"Excuse me? 400 years?" Sam asked, his disbelieving expression matching that of Bucky's beside him.

"How bad is this?" Natasha asked ignoring the other two, her own frown prevalent on her lips. Prima sighed.

"There is a reason why at one point Witcher was a flourishing profession. Witchers were made to go against these beasts and there was a demand that needed to be serviced. I'm the only remaining Witcher. How bad do you think it is?"

"That's exactly why we need your help. You're the only one who knows how to deal with any of these things," Natasha began to plead her case but Prima had a look of immediate revulsion. At that moment, she realized what could potentially convince her.

"We're offering you a contract."

Natasha's words stilled Prima and caused her to raise a curious eyebrow up at her. Witchers traditionally took on contracts most often for eliminating a monster that was terrorizing a village. It was their primary means of making a living and ensured that they would be compensated after the task. Prima can't remember the last time she has been offered a contract. The familiarity was oddly comforting to her.

"Terms of payment?"

"However much you want. Stark will pay it."

The Witcher scoffed, the movement disturbing the cat on her lap. "I've been around for over 700 years, child. I have more money than I have use for."

"Hold on. What??" Sam said his eyes practically bugging out of their sockets.

"Weapons?"

"No. I am partial to my axe."

"A quinjet? Could come in handy since you move around so much," Natasha countered.

"No."

There was a devilish smirk on both the women's faces, enjoying to some extent this back and forth negotiation. Natasha racked her brain for what else she can use to convince Prima to take the contract. She was close to offering up Tony and throw in all of his suits just to get her onboard. Maybe include an Avenger or two in to spice it up.

"Private island? You'll never need to move again."

"No."

"A fuckton of vibranium?"

"Throw in his arm and we got a deal," Prima said cocking her head in the direction of a now very uncomfortable Winter Soldier.

"Why?" Natasha asked completely ignoring the outraged expressions on her teammates face in favor of her curiosity.

The Witcher shrugged. "My porch could use a new wind chime."

Natasha turned to Bucky with a look in her eye that seemed very much like she was willing him to consider it. He fumed and pointed a finger at her in warning.

"Don't you fucking dare, Nat."

Natasha rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air in defeat. "Fine. What do you want, Prima? Name your price."

"I have neither need nor want for anything. I must decline, Natasha. I'm sorry."

The modern style wall clock began to chime softly as it struck twelve midnight as if punctuating the finality of the Witcher's decision. The cat suddenly began to struggle out of her grasp with a discontent hiss. It leaped from her lap but what landed on the hardwood floors were not fuzzy paws but a set of bare feet that were unmistakably human.

Chairs clattered to the floor as the Avengers sprung from their seats and drew their weapons at the sight of this new man who looked to have morphed from being the house cat. Grey eyes and a wide beaming smile accompanied the floppy short brown hair of the newcomer.

He stretched his limbs and groaned at the cracking of his bones bringing him some relief, the V-neck shirt and tight jeans straining at the movements. The bell tied around his neck was the only real indication to the Avengers that this was indeed the cat and that they weren't hallucinating.

"Gods! I thought it would never strike midnight. Do you know how infuriating it is to not be able to comment? A meow can only convey so much."

"Who the fuck are you?" Sam asked raising his shield higher.

Prima had barely moved in her seat at the disturbance, only casually sipping her remaining coffee and waving dismissively at the transformed man.

"Avengers, meet Jaskier. Jaskier, the Avengers."

Jaskier made a low formal bow with all the flair that was standard for his personality. Once straightened, he clapped his hands together and looked excitedly around the room.

"Now that we're introduced, I am pleased to inform you all that we will happily accept this contract."

He slapped a hand across the Witcher's mouth just as she was about to protest. He flashed a cheeky grin at the still confused superheroes while his hand held firmly in place silencing a now sulky Prima.

"What's the plan?"

#Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #avengers x witcher #witcher oc #Witcher #avengers x the witcher #The Avengers #mcu #witcher ofc #bucky barnes x witcher!ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #the falcon #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #black widow #female witcher #jaskier #angst #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra #those who are destined

[peachyteabuck]

good behavior

summary: bucky has very strict rules for his little, doll. not only does this involve a rigid structure of punishments, but also an occasional, decadent reward. 

takes place in the same universe as old school (make me drool) but it is not required reading to understand this fic. 

pairing: bucky barnes x little!ofc

words: 2058

trigger warnings: heavy ddlg, heavy d/s dynamics

notes: this was done for @nsfwsebbie‘s birthday! she’s kind enough to write birthday fics for all us mutuals (including me!) and deserves something in return. i hope your next trip around the sun is even more excellent than the last! 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Doll has a pretty pink paci in her mouth, a matching pink dress adorning her body with her hair folded into perfect milkmaid braids with bows the same pink as the rest of her outfit holding them in place. Normally she’s not as dressed up – Daddy prefers her in a simple onesie with her hair in two little buns high up on your head – but today is Bunny’s birthday party, and Auntie Nat had told all of her friends (including Daddy) that she would be taking pictures of all of them to immortalize the event, and she expected all of the littles to be dressed appropriately.

So Doll, clad in clothes she’s not used to, sits in the playroom with the other littles as they laugh and play away all the cake and ice cream and juice their caregivers had allowed them to consume throughout the long day.

Auntie Nat’s house is huge – what her and Bunny called a “playroom” acting as a giant space where the caregivers could watch their littles play with all of Bunny’s toys – an already impressive pile of stuffies and puzzles and whatever else she’d wanted only added to by the presents the other caregivers had bought her to celebrate her special day.

Doll’s Daddy’s house is about the same size, but there the playroom is a much smaller space where Doll is allowed to be alone, a single rocking chair there for when her Daddy needs to keep watch or wants to read her a story.

Auntie Nat also had a large pool they all had swam in (though Doll preferred to stay at her Daddy’s side, napping in the sun), and patio big enough for several large tables where they all ate and watched Bunny open her presents.

Now, though, everyone was inside, the littles playing on the ground while their Daddies and Mommies sat chatting on the large sofa in the playroom, one that was so large it fit against two walls instead of just one.

As the air cooled outside while the sun began to sink out of sight, Doll’s tummy begins to turn inside her as the loudness of the other littles ceases to wane.

She crawls over to where her Daddy is on the center of the couch, pulling on one of his pantlegs lightly to get his attention.

It works, the much larger man stopping mid-sentence to look down at her – his metal arm holding a half-drunk liquid only the adults are allowed to drink while the other rests at the back of the couch.

“You wanna go home, Doll?” he asks, voice soft and low.

Her Daddy pulls the paci from her mouth with his flesh hand, allowing her to speak. Doll nods, picking at the soft lace trim of her party dress. “Y-yes, Daddy.”

Her Daddy gives her a small smile, leaning down so he can pet her head (carefully, though, as to not mess up her hair) and give her forehead a small kiss. “Yeah, I know you wanna go home. Give me a few more minutes with Daddy’s friends and we can go, alright?”

She pulls her lips into a small, tight frown but doesn’t protest – something Daddy notices immediately.

“Do you want to stay here at my feet until we go, Doll?” he asks. He knows what he’s asking her is true – she’s always been awkward in social situations, never as outgoing as Princess or Peter. Even Bunny, though quiet, was able to be around the other littles for longer than Doll is (to be fair, it is Bunny’s birthday party, and her small body has consumed a simply incredibly amount of sugar throughout her special day – but still, Doll is nearly always the first to request to be brought home).

Doll chews on her bottom lip before replying. “Yes, Daddy.”

“She’s a sweet little thing, Bucky” she hears Uncle Stevie saying above her. “Trained her quite well.”

The others on the couch laugh, thinking of all the times the man’s Princess had pulled such bratty behavior she had to be spanked or reprimanded in one way or another in front of the other littles.

Despite the loaded compliment, Doll’s Daddy smiles down at her as she sits between his legs – protecting herself from the rest of the room. “Yeah, she’s my special little angel.”

He wraps the conversation up with ease, thanking Auntie Nat and giving Bunny one more “happy birthday” before carrying Doll to the car and strapping her into the car seat.

Unlike the rest of the caregivers, her Daddy plays no music as he drives home, knowing Doll prefers the silence after a long day of thunderous roar of all the littles together.

The pair arrive home without incident, with Daddy carrying Doll inside and allowing her time alone in her playroom to cool down from the experiences of the day. Her paci and shoes were removed with ease, her Daddy taking them away as he walked out of the room to wherever it is he felt he needed to be.

Her Daddy returns a few minutes later, leaning down with both arms behind his back.

“You were such a good girl,” Daddy tells her, now sitting cross legged across from her on the floor.

It’s rare for her to see her Daddy in such a context – though she doesn’t remember much of it, when she first arrived she was quite firey and refused to be broken. It took all of her Daddy’s might (and much advice from the other caregivers, along with time with the other littles so he could remember why he so badly wanted one of his own) not to give up.

And, of course, it was worth it. All of the nights in the basement and strict enforcement of his many rules molded Doll into the beautiful, fragile apple of his eye that she is today.

Doll says nothing, watching her Daddy with wide eyes as he – for the first time in recent memory – lowers himself to her level.

He clears his throat before speaking, his arms still behind his back. “I know it’s been a rough day for you, and I’m very proud of you, not just because you were so good for so long, but that you told me when you wanted to go home so politely…”

He coughs once more, trying to clear the awkwardness in his own voice. It’s certainly hard for him to be, in a sense, vulnerable; much easier to bring down his hand when Doll needs reminding of the rules than offering her something for remembering. Still, he does his best, and Doll’s wide wondering eyes urge him to continue.

“So I bought this for you,” he says, bringing his arms from behind his back to reveal a soft, plush arctic baby seal with an embroidered eyes, nose, and mouth (Doll doesn’t like the hardened facial features – always telling her Daddy they make the friends harder to cuddle). Its “fur” is a light, hazy blue – nearly white unless one has the sharp eye Doll does. Upon seeing the heinously cute creature, Doll gives a sharp inhale of excitement, whole body tensing as her eyeline locks on the present in her Daddy’s hands.

“I picked this up for you,” he says as he gives it to her, giving Doll a nod, permission to grab at the gift. “When we went to the aquarium with Natasha and Bunny. I saw you eyeing it when we passed the gift shop. Thought you’d like it.”

Even though she wasn’t asked a question, and therefore is not allowed to respond, Doll’s wide smile and how she’s got the stuffie in a tight hug tell her Daddy all he needs to know.

He watches her for a moment, enjoying her sheer delight while she babbles nonsensically while holding the animal’s soft face close to hers. Occasionally she leaves a small kiss somewhere, nimble fingers exploring the two-toned fur.

Eventually he becomes bored just watching her, though, so her Daddy moves closer to her, hand on her bare knee as she continues to play.

“I’ve got another reward for you, Doll,” he whispers in her ear, heat swirling in his stomach as he notices her body reacting to his. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“Y-yes, Daddy,” Doll squeaks out, gnawing on her bottom lip as she watches him loom closer to her.

“I’ll give it to you, Doll,” he says – voice low in his chest. “As long as you keep holding on to your new stuffie. You got that?”

She nods, voice barely above a murmur as her Daddy pushes her onto the carpeted ground. “Yes Daddy!”

He smiles as he pushes her frilly dress to her stomach, adjusting her legs so that her socked feet are planted on his thigh as he undoes the button on his slacks. “Good girl,” he tells her as one hand moves down to her center (Bunny’s birthday party is a special enough event to necessitate big girl panties). He rubs her, reveling in her small, breathy moans as his cock becomes harder against his dress shirt. “Now I need you to be quiet for me, so I’m gonna give you that nice paci you like.”

Doll’s always accepting of her Daddy’s stipulations for their play time together, welcoming the expensive paci he gifted her for her last birthday into her mouth when he pulls it from his back pocket.

He coos more praise towards her as he pushes a finger into her, feeling how wet, how desperate she is for him.

“You ready for me, Doll?” he asks, swallowing the spit that gathers on his tongue as he watches Doll with a sniper’s eye. She nods, eyes screwed shut, hands clutching the stuffie’s fur. He smiles ear to ear as she does so. “Good.”

The anticipation burns at his skin as he aligns himself with her dripping core, easily bottoming out before giving her a few seconds to adjust to his impressive cock.

That’s all Doll gets, though, before her Daddy takes what he wants from – fucking into her pussy as she grips the stuffie with all her might, her loud moans muffled by the paci’s large, pink guard with Daddy’s Little Doll spelled out with circle, black-and-white lettered beads.

“That feel good, Doll?” he coos, arms bracketing her under his much large form. “You like it when Daddy makes you feel good?”

Doll’s eyes roll to the back of her head, jaw struggling to stay closed as she loses herself to the pleasure.

Her Daddy just laughs. “Oh, of course you do. Your Daddy’s little Doll, and Daddy always takes care of her toys.”

One of his hands moves down to the ever most sensitive part of her, his callous flesh thumb making tight circles as her pussy tightens around his cock.

It’s a delicious feeling, one that makes her Daddy moan deep in his chest. “Fuck, do it,” he tells her, rubbing her even faster. “C’mon, make Daddy proud.”

Just as Doll always does, she follows her Daddy’s instructions; obeys his word to the letter, and reaches her peak while her Daddy chases his.

His groans can barely be heard over her high-pitched whines now, caught in her throat but filling the room nonetheless, tears threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes and whole body tense as her Daddy continues to fuck in and out of her.

It doesn’t take long before he knows – before he pulls out to come on her soft stomach, narrowly avoiding the expensive faux fur as he paints her skin with streaks of thick white.

“Fuck-“ he hisses, jaw going slack with his whole body being held in the hair only by his hands planted flat on the ground on either side of Doll’s head. “Fuck you’re my best little girl.”

She looks up at him with eyes hopeful but tired, ready to fall asleep right then and there as she pants through her nose.

“Yes,” her Daddy assures her, picking her up to bring her into the bathroom so he can clean her up. “Yes, you always are and always will be my perfect little Doll.”

With that she falls sleep in his arms, allowing him to manipulate her into the bath as he washes away everything the day had brought upon her.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #lukis writes stuff #old school (make me drool) #little!reader

[beyondterrortale]

THE RUNDOWN-

(TerrorTale) See No Evil

The story is overall the same, with Frisk venturing into the underground to find their way back home. Along with making the choice to help monsters. But after they leave the Ruins, something follows them and intends on feasting on their human flesh (and soul ofc). Sadly for Frisk, they have no time to react and get attacked by this strange ink-like creature. (I just call them ink beasts going forward since it’s easier and there’s more than one here)

Something that Sans made a promise to the woman beyond the wall he's already failed miserably in. Which was to protect the human child. This is likely the one instance where he does blame himself as what harmed the human was beyond his magic control. He wasn't quick enough to stop the ink beast from taking the human's sight. But he did save the human from further danger by killing it. And going forward, the skeleton has taken good care of Frisk. Along with his brother Papyrus, who protects the little human child with his life.

Seems like they're not the only ones doing so as a strange, but comforting spirit by the name of "Chara" follows Frisk around. Acting as their eyes and speaking with Frisk often. It's kind of like having a true friend around. One that really cares about them genuinely and refuses to leave them alone.

This is the story so far. Considering that it's a slow pace, but the whole deal about this AU is that some characters appear too early like Undyne going to Snowdin to check on the people once her and Papyrus saw an ink beast in the Waterfalls that nearly killed them both. Taking notice that similar creatures are starting to appear at random in the underground, everyone has to be on the lookout.

Additional info on SeeNoEvil:

Sans and Papyrus eyes have been glowing long before the human came out of the Ruins. It's something that even they don't understand nor have the ability to control. This is often why you'll see them with an eye patch in public. They can see fine with these eyes, yet they have their reasons for covering them up such as their eyes being very sensitive and feeling overall embarrassed. Though that last part only applies for Papyrus. On the plus side, Undyne has told him that they both do look cool with glowing eyes. Which does lift their spirits up a bit. Still they both tend to keep them on. Especially Sans who has his on 90% of the time. Along with other bandages that are on his skull and arms (though many don’t see those since he covers them well enough)

Beyond this point of the AU, Frisk is partially blind. If they were to open up their eyes it would hurt so much that they have to cover their eyes with a band. But to the surprise of them, when Chara asks for permission to use their eyes one day, the spirit gives Frisk the ability to see perfectly once again. It's only temporary, but they do make good use of their time and mentally record what they see. Even when they lose their sight again, the human has good sense of hearing to aid them. It's an improved skill that they have on their belt and is very much grateful for the sharp hearing.

Frisk doesn't fight monsters, however they do have to stay on guard with those ink beasts slithering around. If they're coming after them, they have to figure out a way to get as far away from these creatures. Killing them is genuinely a thing Frisk/Chara should do, but refuse to go near them in fear that they might eat their body and soul.

These ink beasts are NOT from this world. Where they came from is unknown to everyone. But it would be best for monsters to kill them as quickly as possible. Fire magic would be preferable, but at a safe distance so to not get your soul taken away. There are likely more methods out there, however this is by far the most effective one as demonstrated by a fire monster in Snowdin.

#See No Evil AU #TerrorTale #sans #papyrus #frisk #chara

[rogueonestan]

wopc : chapter 3- the connection

pairing: the mandalorian x f!reader/ ofc

word count: 4.1k

warnings: minimal canon violence (that trandoshan scene from 1x02)

summary: after bringing to the peace to the land of Arvala-7, you and the Mandalorian begin to make your way back to the Crest when three uninvited guests join your travels.

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You never thought you could ever be this exhausted after a hunt, and you haven’t even made it back to the Crest yet. 

After you and Mando were able to successfully disband the mini-city of mercenaries, you began making your way back to the Crest with the asset by your sides when you were suddenly ambushed by three Trandoshans, the same ones you felt staring at you back at the cantina on Nevarro.

As you and Mando turned to walk down yet another lengthy pathway, something felt off. You kept looking over your shoulder, again and again, to see if you could spot anything out of the ordinary, but the only thing that caught your eye was a few small reptile creatures that would come out of their hiding spots once your figure got further away from them. Everything seemed fine but you should’ve known better than the trouble on this trip wouldn’t have ended once you left the mini-city. 

The words ‘I got a bad feeling about this’ were on the tip of your tongue, but before you were able to open your mouth to say them, one of the Trandoshans suddenly appears right in front of you and knocks you down to the ground with a harsh shove. When your body collides to the floor, your head hits on the edge of a nearby at a weird angle. Luckily the area between the base of your neck and your head is the area that hits the rock, so the injury isn’t as fatal as it could’ve been, a wave of pain flutters throughout your body. The pain is so intense, however, that you are unable to aid your partner in combat. Luckily, after a few minutes of resting, you were able to get back on your feet and continue the journey back to the ship, all thanks to your partner. 

As the two of you continue your walk, you’re grateful for the silence that falls between you. 

You’re not even sure if you would even be able to make conversation at this point because of the aching pain that’s in your head. You don’t dare to mention anything to your partner because all you want to do right now is to sleep in your quarters. 

The throbbing pain in your head eventually begins to subdue over time. Before, all you could focus on is the pain and just muscle through it, but now, you’re finally able to focus on your surroundings and admire them. For example, you’re able to see the occasional fauna scurry off to the side as you and Mando pass by them. The sight of the creatures, even if it’s for a few seconds, puts a smile on your face because Arvala-7 doesn’t have much to offer. Besides the cliffs that linger on the upper levels and the rocks and fauna that reside where you currently are, there isn’t much to see. 

You don’t notice how late it’s getting until your partner mentions something. 

“We should make camp soon.” He suggests as he looks over in your direction. 

 “Yeah,” you say as you take notice of the now night sky.

The bright oranges that complimented the sunshine is now replaced with a dark, gloomy purple sky. Speckles of stars also glitter up the sky, acting as a natural light source to help guide you. 

“We should also check on the little one to make sure he’s okay.” You propose as your partner nods his head in agreement as you continue with your travels. 

It’s not long after that you find a suitable spot to make camp for the night. The area that you decided to rest at is an open area where the only options to rest are on a slab of rock or on top of the dirt. It’s not ideal but you have no other choice. 

You join your partner’s side and lean up against a large slab of rock- it’s uncomfortable but it’s better than sleeping on the cold floor. Taking off the strap of the bag that you take everywhere with you, you begin to settle in for the night. You’re about to close your eyes and try to get some sleep, but you hear a series of grunts to your right. Once you find the source of the noise, you find your partner is using some sort of heat pen to try to mend his wound, the same item that you’ve seen him use to make small repairs on the Crest. Just glancing at the wound he’s trying to mend, you can’t imagine how much pain he’s currently in as he tries to heal it with the tool in his hand. 

Before you’re able to do anything about it, another sound to your right catches your attention. You find the green little baby has made his way out of his pram and is slowly walking towards the Mandalorian. As he gets closer to Mando, one of his arms reaches out as his eyes squint shut in concentration. A faint humming sound reaches your ears and the sound only intensifies as the little one gets closer to the injured man.

A soft groan leaves the baby’s lips as he uses all of his strength to reach out in front of him, but Mando, oblivious to the baby’s true intentions, scoops the baby up in his arms and places him back in the pram where he belongs. 

After seeing what you just witnessed, you feel even more curious about the baby than ever. 

Upon meeting the little one, you’re not sure what was about him, but something seemed different about him like something was pulling you towards him when you first entered that room. You haven’t felt an immediate connection to anyone like this since the rise of the Empire. There’s just something different about him that entices you. You can’t exactly pinpoint it, but the slight humming that you can feel in the air around you isn’t something you experienced since you were younger, since you first began your journey. 

Thoughts about the baby, where he’s from, how he got to be in an abandoned building in the first place, roam your mind. How long has the Empire been looking for him? But the thoughts stop when you hear the grunts to your right continue and become louder than they were before. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You ask as you immediately sit up and look at your partner with a horrified look on your face.

Mando doesn’t say anything at first, mainly gesturing at his wound on the bicep, “healing.”

“Why don’t you use some bactaspray?”

“It’s not that bad-“ 

You scoff at him as you rummage through your bag, “give me your arm.” You say with a slightly assertive tone as you kneel in front of him. Mando doesn’t budge, his visor only continuing to look at you, “please?” You plead this time. 

Letting out a deep sigh, he relents, as he gives you permission to help him by moving his body towards you. Lightly placing a hand on his elbow, you lean towards Mando and before you apply the medication to his wound, you look up in his visor and give him a warning, asking, “ready?” With his approval, you begin spraying the affected area. Upon immediate contact, Mando lets out a muffled groan of pain. A mumbled ‘sorry’ escapes from your lips as you look away from his wound to see his reaction. His visor doesn’t help you whatsoever, but you can tell the medication is already taking effect by his body language. The rapid rise and fall of his chest from before is now replaced with his chest taking in deep breaths. As you glance down at the affected area, what catches your eye isn’t the traces of blood that remain, but the tan skin that now peeks through the tear of his tunic. 

Lightly squeezing his elbow, you let go of your grip on him but not before your hand now lingers above his exposed skin. 

Your fingers ghost a few inches above his exposed skin, but before you make skin-to-skin contact, you quickly remove your hand and have it lay on top of your thigh. A deep sigh leaves your lips when you get up from your kneeled position, trying your best to get as comfortable as you possibly can when you lay against the slab of rock, “just ask next time.” You comment with your eyes closed.

The moment you close your eyes, though, you suddenly hear a loud noise coming from your right. Craning your neck as far as you possibly can, another sigh leaves your lips as you find Mando reamending his cuirass with the same tool that he was trying to heal his wound earlier. Instead of bothering your partner for a second time, you try your best to at least get some rest. 

But before you’re able to, you vaguely hear your partner saying something. Reopening your eyes, the first thing you see are big, brown owl-like eyes. You move to scoop him up in your arms so you can try to get some rest, but as soon as his hand touches your arm, a series of memories from your past begin flooding your mind. 

The first memory that runs through your mind is one from when you were younger.

With your hands clasped, you run down the halls alongside your best friend. After finishing your training for the day, you and your best friend decided to let loose and roam free of the premises. Giggles are exchanged between the two of you when you accidentally collide with one of the older individuals of the facility. The older gentleman that you knocked into scolds you, telling you that you need to slow down, but your friend only pulls on your arm so can you continue to race down the halls. You mutter out a ‘sorry’ as your friend continues to tug on your arm. 

As you continue to weave up and down multiple hallways, you turn your head to glance at your best friend, only to find that a huge smile is on their face as laughter escapes from their lips.

“Where are we even going?” You ask.

“It’s a surprise.” Shaking your head, you laugh alongside them. 

You’ve never felt this free before. 

The second memory that flashes through your mind is one that you’ve tried so hard to forget.

Running in the mud alongside one of the many swamps that could be found on Saleucami, adrenaline fills your body as you try to run as fast as you possibly can. A cloud of tears blocks your vision as you try to recollect everything that happened within the past hour.

Everything went normal as always then something changed. You’re not sure when, or why, but one moment you were waiting for your mentor to return from a quick patrol when your allies by your side suddenly turned on you. 

While you were waiting, a dark cloud took control of the minds of your allies- thoughts of hatred entering their minds as they aimed their weapons at you. Luckily for you, you were able to escape their attack with minimal injuries, but fear still lingers in your system as you run as far and as fast as you can. 

With your weapon in your hand, you try your best to focus on the task at hand. You need to find some way off of this planet. 

“Where is she?” You can hear a voice ask from a distance. 

“She couldn’t have gone that far. Take a speeder and scan the area.” Another voice says. 

You can hear the sound of a speeder’s engine warming up as they quickly drive away. 

Upon hearing this, you quickly make your way in the opposite direction- a small attempt of avoiding another fight and being spotted.

Hiding behind a rather large tree, you’re finally able to catch your breath. You’re not sure of how long you’ve been running but you know this fight is far from over. 

Now, you need to find some way off of this planet before it’s too late. Maybe there’s some sort of settlement that you can rest at for a short while.

The next memory that flashed through your mind was even darker than the previous. 

After all of the years of surviving from the Empire, you’ve been able to know when something’s off. You felt it when your allies suddenly turned on you on that fatal day and you could feel it now. Taking your weapon from your side, you prepare yourself for the upcoming fight that you can sense. 

“I see nothing has changed.” 

The blood flowing through your veins suddenly turns cold upon hearing this voice. The voice that once brought you warmth and joy when you were younger now only brings fear in you where you stand now. The friend that you thought you had when you were younger has been gone for a long time and is now replaced with someone you don’t recognize. The lightness of your friend’s voice is now replaced with one that’s only filled with hate- a coldness you wish you never saw. 

“I wish I could say the same.” You say with a shaky breath as you turn around. You try to keep your emotions together, something you were taught to do along your friend’s side many years ago.

“You were always so quick to fight- never waiting. I wonder what your precious Rebel friends would think of you if they knew the truth. How much you’ve fallen.” They spat at you. 

You say nothing in response as tears now run down your face. Even though your mind tells you that everything you’ve done up to this point has been for the greater good- some of your actions go directly against what you were taught as a child, but you did it to survive. 

“What would they think of you? What would they call you?”

“A survivor.” The words come out as a whisper, more of you reminding yourself-justifying the actions of your past. 

The final memory that goes through your head is one that’s not as dark as the others- one that you remember distinctly before everything changed for the worst. 

Sitting crisscrossed on your bed with your eyes closed, you try to focus on the fresh air that enters your lungs. After being assigned a simple patrolling mission of a deserted planet, you wanted to clear your head before you met up with your mentor to leave. Your palms rest against your knees comfortably as you continue with the breathing exercises you’ve been taught. Taking in a deep breath, you’re brought out of your trance by the sound of gentle knocks on your door.

“Come in.” You say as you reopen your eyes. Seeing that it’s your mentor, you immediately uncross your legs, beginning to get up when the woman in front of you holds a hand out, silently telling you to stop.

“My young one,” she begins, “I have a gift for you before we embark on our journey.” With the calm tone you’ve familiarized yourself since you met her merely a year ago, “It is a tradition for a young one, such as yourself, to be given a gift by their mentor at around your age, so I wanted to give you yours before we left.” The gentle tone of her voice removes any anxiety you were feeling before you left for the mission. You can’t help but feel at ease with her by your side. 

With both of her arms stretched out, a simple black box rests in her hands. As you take the box from her hands, she continues, “my own mentor gave this to me and I believe it’s the right thing for me to do the same.” 

When you open the box, a simple crystal rests inside. Taking the crystal in your hand, you lift it in the air as the sunlight reflects off of it. Shadows of the reflection bounce off of your bedroom walls as you admire the gift. 

“A crystal?” You inquire with your head tilting, “but I-“

“This one’s special.” She insists, “this one is unlike any other one you will have seen before- you will need to connect with it. Only then, will you understand.” With that, she leaves the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. 

Lifting the crystal into the air again, seeing how the sunlight reflects off of it, you quickly place it in your pocket, not knowing the importance it would bring you in the future. 

A sharp exhale leaves your lips as memories from your past no longer plague your mind. Your breathing only continues to get heavier as you try to take in everything that you just experienced. 

Thought after thought enters your brain as you try to comprehend what just happened, how it happened. You can now feel the necklace that’s been resting against your chest is now being pulled by an unseen force. To your right, you find the mysterious baby is somehow pulling at the crystal that’s resting on your chest.

Once again, you can hear a slight humming in the air as the baby is in close proximity to you. It’s like a slight breeze against grass- faint but still there. 

Grabbing the piece of jewelry in your hand, the little hand that was once held out in front of you is now resting against the baby’s side. 

You get up from the hard floor and scoop the baby up in your arms as you walk towards his pram- hopefully he’ll actually stay there this time. 

When you glance down at the owl-like eyes that are staring at you, you can’t help but wonder if he had the weird experience that you had. You’ve never had such an odd experience as this for as long as you can remember. One moment you’re trying to fall asleep for the night, the next you’re reliving the best and worst memories that you can think of. 

“Don’t give me that look.” You warn the little one as you gently put him back in his pram. 

“What did you mean before?” Mando asks you once you retake your seat next to him. 

“When?” You ask as you look in his direction.

“Earlier- you said that you knew someone of its kind.”

“Oh, that,” You trail off as you lay back down next to your partner, “they were someone I trusted when I was younger. They helped train me, taught me that lightness and darkness aren’t two separate things, but rather, one cannot live without the other.” 

“Oh.”

“Not only was he one of the wisest teachers I’ve ever had, but he also was a dear friend.” Mando doesn’t say anything in response, only nodding as he reflects on your words.

Silence fills the air as the three of you rest up for the following day. The only sounds that could be heard are created by the local wildlife. You can hear soft snores coming from the other two but you, on the other hand, cannot keep your eyes closed for longer than five minutes. Whenever your eyes begin to droop, millions of thoughts scramble in your mind. 

The memories you re-experienced earlier keep replaying in your head over and over again. When the baby’s hand touched your skin, you felt a sensation that you haven’t felt in years. It’s a similar feeling you had when you were younger- when you first met your best friend all of those years ago. Like it was fate that both of your paths crossed. Did the kid feel the same thing? Does he feel the same pull towards you as you feel? With this in mind, you can’t help but feel guilty by the thought of giving the child to Imperial hands. Not only because he’s a vulnerable child, but also because you can’t help but think that somehow you were supposed to meet this mysterious child. Like your journey with him is far from over. 

The more you think about this possibility, the more you reflect on the limited time you’ve spent with the green little baby. Even before you met him, you felt like something was off. On Nevarro, you felt like something was wrong when you first received the bounty but you brushed it off as it 

was because it included former Imperials- not because it was something so much more. When you entered that room, you could feel the pull towards the baby without even realizing it. You just knew there’s something about this child that you could feel a connection to. You can’t exactly put your finger on it, but you’ve experienced a similar attraction towards someone before and it lead you towards the path that eventually lead you to Mando.

Maybe your path was supposed to be linked with this child, not Mando. No. You disregard the thought from your head. There’s no way that your paths are supposed to emerge. The only journey that you’re supposed to have with this child is limited- only for a few days at most, you tell yourself. 

You remind yourself that you can’t get attached to the baby. If you do, it’ll only make it that much harder to actually go through with the bounty. And even if you did want to, how would you mention this to your partner? How would you even begin to explain everything that you’ve been feeling ever since you entered that Imperial-occupied building on Nevarro? Would you have to tell him everything and just hope that he would believe you? 

Unlike your partner, the stars looming above you are awake and as bright as ever. As you glance over them, a feeling of peace overwhelms you. No more thoughts running through your brain at a pace faster than you can keep up with. No matter where you are in the galaxy, you’ve always felt at peace whenever you look at the midnight sky. It’s always been comforting to you to know that even though you’re just a tiny speck of the galaxy, you’ll always feel at home by looking at space. Whether it’s whenever you’re traveling to another planet with Mando or you’re making camp for the night, like tonight, glancing at the empty sky puts you at ease. Maybe it’s because nothing in the sky is in a rush like you are. With your lifestyle, you’re always on the move, but the stars always stay put. It may seem dumb when you put it that way, but you’ve always found solace whenever you glance at the night sky. 

The longer you see the stars twinkle, the calmer you feel. Even if it’s just for a moment, you don’t worry about anything- not what you’ve experienced over the past day or what the next day will bring.

Even when life is going at an alarmingly fast rate, you were always taught to take everything in and live in the moment- to reflect on everything. 

The pants that escaped from your chest earlier are now replaced with deep breaths as you continue to lazily look at the sky above you. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Even with the stars calming your nerves, you can’t help but think of how things will be so different once you and Mando return back to Nevarro. During this short amount of time, you’ve never gone this attached to someone before only after a few days. By this time tomorrow, you’ll probably be flying off to another planet with Mando as you continue with the busy bounty hunting lifestyle that you’ve gotten used to by now. The little one will no longer be in your lives. Only another successful bounty that the Guild will remember you for. 

But as you skim over your partner’s unconscious form, you wonder if he’s feeling as uneasy as you are. Usually, the bounties you bring in are people who usually deserve it- people who skipped bail, were sympathizers of the Empire, but never helpless children. If you both crossed this line, would there ever be a limit? Would you just do what you were told just like you did during the war? 

You don’t know what your future will bring, but your journey with the Mandalorian and the little one is just beginning.

tags (let me know if you want to be added): @unstoppableforcce​ @remmysbounty​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @randomness501​ @itspauvr​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

#hi things in the next ch will escalate i promise #also the next one will be twice this lengh so bare with me #my writing #wopc #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x ofc

[cuddlyscribe]

anon asked: Soooo I found a baby kitty in my backyard the other day so can we pls have reader finding a baby kitty or puppy in an alley or something and then bringing it back to the Nemesis? Ofc they beg their con to keep it or maybe they even try to hide it from their con lol.

[recognize these headcanons? this is a repost from my old blog ‘ohscraptfphcs!’ You will see this disclaimer above all of the content i have moved from my previous blogs.]

Megatron, Soundwave and Shockwave honestly would probably not be bothered by it at all, as long as the pet in question isn’t causing any serious problems around the Nemesis. Megatron is going to let his s/o do whatever they damn well please, so as long as it isn’t like a Predacon or something, he’s fine with it. Soundwave is pretty similar in the sense that he’s also unbothered by a pet. He’s the most loyal servant to Megatron, which earns him some sweet perks for both himself and his s/o. They might have to keep the pet leashed or sheltered in Soundwave’s berth, but either way it’s better than not being able to have it at all. They’re both happy their s/o didn’t try to hide it from them this time because they actually think Earth pets are cute. Shockwave’s s/o might hide it from him at first because he’s this big mad scientist type, and they might be worried he’ll experiment on it or something. But in reality, he wouldn’t dream of it. He knows how important the pet is to his s/o and how humans can form strong bonds with the domesticated animals on this planet, so he wouldn’t take that away from them. Shockwave might not see the logic in it but to him he would let his s/o do anything they’d like.

Starscream and Knockout would honestly be afraid. They’re not used to having something that small running around, so when the kitten or puppy barks or meows and runs all around, they kinda scream and try to hide behind their s/o. As long as they can calm them down, they’ll slowly but surely learn to accept its presence and actually like it a lil bit. They want to keep it a secret from Megatron as much as possible because they tend to get on his bad side often, so it’s less likely he’ll be so kind. As long as the pet is in their berth, everything is fine. Whenever these two have free time, they’ll play with the pet with their s/o, teaching it tricks or feeding it snacks. Knockout loves it the most when his s/o falls asleep with their pet in their arms after a long night of movie marathons. He thinks they both look so innocent and sweet. Starscream just loves to watch his s/o try and catch the pet as it runs around and hides everywhere. It’s the cutest game of cat and mouse, and he honestly can’t get enough.

Breakdown and Airachnid wouldn’t give a crap about getting permission from Megatron and just let their s/o do whatever they like. They assume that if the big man is going to get angry at their s/o and their pet, they’ll be there to stand up to him. (It’s up to you to decide if that works out or not) These two will warn all Vehicons around to extra watch their step because there’s another small creature walking around on the ship and God knows what’ll happen to them if they get stepped on. Breakdown is really chill with his s/o and their little furry friend, letting them both hang out on his shoulder and in his servos while he’s working. He watches to make sure both of them don’t fall off of high-up desks. Airachnid is a little less hands on, letting them both run wild and do what they want. If trouble comes to them and they need help, she’s always there, but she’s not going to do much sitting and watching.

#transformers prime #tfp megatron #tfp starscream #tfp soundwave #tfp knockout #tfp shockwave #tfp breakdown #tfp airachnid

[cafeinthemoon]

To Where the Water Take Me - Chapter I

Title:  To Where the Water Take Me

Genre: Fanfiction | Fantasy!AU

Pairing: Tobirama Senju x Yua (Ofc)

Rating: Teen | up

Word count: 2298

Chapter (s): 1/?

Warnings: mentions to injuries

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶▶

Read this story on my AO3

Summary: Yua lives on a small town by the coast where stories about the people of the sea and their altercations with humans were common. One morning, during her usual walking by the beach, she spots something lying ahead, right where the sand and the water meet. She approaches it believing it is an animal, just to be proven wrong: that was the body of a male from the people of the sea.

N. A.: This is the Fantasy!AU I mentioned here before! I don’t know when I will finish it or how much chapters it will have, but I want it to be short and simple. I’m also posting it here to “clean” my draft list, so please don’t expect constant updates on this story XD

Chapter 1 - Morning Walk

“A thousand miles out to the sea bed

Found a place to rest my head”

(Florence and the Machine, Never Let Me Go)

Spring was on its second week in that land and the days of Winter winds and violent storms coming from the sea were over. It was easy to become used to the warm sunlight and the calm waves on the coast that came after them every year, and that was the reason why Yua started to rethink her decision of leaving the house to take her usual walk that particular morning: she reached the sand and haven’t walked more than a few meters when a cold breeze reached her, making her ask herself if she should have brought a coat. Maybe yes, but now that she was already there with her feet buried in sand and her hair soaked in salt air, she was not going back home; she came to take her morning walk, and she was not leaving without doing it.

However, the sea had experience with tenacious people, and that time it was determined to test her persistence. Little by little, the warm sun disappeared behind a thick layer of gray clouds slowly pushed by the wind, which was sending more and more shivers down her body at each step. Soon, the amount of sand carried by it started to interfere in her sight, and it was hard to see what was ahead. Yua felt the irritation growing inside her: what happened to the weather that day?

She was now convinced that going back home was the wisest thing to do in such conditions. Accepting her defeat with a sigh, she tied her hair to not have it on her eyes while walking with the wind on her back and crossed her arms around herself, preparing to leave.

It was when she saw it.

Not so far from her spot, there was a dark, large stain upon the white sand, right where the land met the waves. Yua narrowed her eyes, trying to understand what she was seeing. Was it a piece of a wrecked ship? Or a living creature? Maybe the waters became so agitated with that terrible wind that they threw it there, giving it no chance to go back.

She took a few steps towards it and confirmed that it was a creature. Was it a dolphin? A seal? Well, if it was an animal, it must be too heavy for her to take it back to the water all by herself. She could seek for help in the city. But were they going to help her? She couldn’t be sure.

Whatever the case, the creature wasn’t moving, which increased the possibility of it being hurt. Standing there would only lead it to death, if it hasn’t happened already, so the girl walked toward it with determination, if not to do something for it, at least to try and understand what happened.

As she approached it, she start to think that the animal was too big to be a dolphin, and to slim to be a seal. What was it, then? She would have to look closer to find out. Now the curiosity has overcome her plans of leaving the beach, and she found herself almost running to reach the being.

And then her path ended up in an abrupt way: she was just a few steps apart from the creature and held her breath when she looked closer at it.

It wasn’t an animal as she first supposed. It was a person. Not a human, though – a person from the people of the sea.

For the appearance of their upper bodies carried a reasonable resemblance with the human figure, it was safe to say that the creature was a male. He was lying on his belly, his arms stretched up his head; in his hand he held tight some black stripes that showed to be a species of seaweed that she never saw before – he must have found it in the depths of the ocean.

His skin was pale even when compared to the white sand upon which he was lying, but all over his arms and ribs he had reddish marks spreading on a stern pattern; at first, Yua thought they were scratches, but a careful examination revealed that they were natural marks. Not that it would be a big problem for him if they were real injuries, for his muscles and general aspect implied an amount of resistance that would surpass the human limits: it wasn’t hard to imagine that he had enough strength to kill Yua in seconds even if he didn’t use everything he got against her. This detail served as warning for her in her next actions.

If the creature’s skin seemed pale to her, his hair was indeed white; it was short, disposed in shaggy, thick strands. On his head he was wearing some sort of silver ornament that covered his forehead and part of his cheeks, but the sharp points on its upper side created a resemblance with the forehead protector of the human shinobi from distant lands. Was he a warrior among his people?

She wasn’t sure if it was an illusion, but both his skin and hair seemed to reflect a subtle, bluish shade when touched by the light. Perhaps it was the influence of the aquatic aspects of his anatomy: over the outer side of his arms, starting on his elbows and reaching his fists, as well as on his lower back, grew a layer of scales that shone with a soft shade of blue that got darker as they extended in flexible fins. Of an even darker tone of blue was his tail, spreading for at least three meters among the waves: it started right at what would be his waist if he was human, but in this case the transition between the pale skin and the scales was less subtle, as to let no doubts about his non human nature.

For she was born in that city, Yua heard about the people of the sea since she was a child, from the stories her mother told her to the talking all around the city, when fishermen and travelers would complain about accidents and shipwrecks caused by those wild sea-men. However, she never expected to find one of them by herself. She was scared, that was true, but her fascination overcame her fears, and she bent down beside the seaman and stretched her hand to touch him.

She touched his right shoulder at first with her fingertips, ready to move away if he woke and attack her. It was warm – he was alive, then. And that part of the stories that claimed that their skin was as cold as the deep ocean was a lie. He showed no reaction to her touch, so she put her palm over his skin.

This time he started to move.

He clenched his fists and leaned on them using all his strength. In a second, he was able to look ahead, and that was what he did once he opened his eyes. Yua got stunned when he did: his pupils were not but two tiny black dots surrounded by globes as red as human blood, and the narrow shape of his eyes seeming to be painted with black ink, as well the red marks he had upon his cheeks and chin which were of the same pattern as the others on his body, deepened her impression of being in front of a predator.

They soon spotted the girl staring at him and widened, if with anger or fear, she didn’t have the time to find out. It was easy to suppose that he hid fangs behind his mouth while he kept it shut, so when he hissed and showed them, Yua was not surprised, but the sudden movement he made to throw himself toward her made her jump and fall on her back, containing a scream.

However, instead of a growl or any other sound of attack, she heard a moan that seem to be caused by pain. When she sat and looked again, she noticed that the sand underneath his spot was soaked in a fluid of a deep blue tone that was close to black; she then saw him trying to cover a dark stain upon his chest, from which dripped the same fluid. She didn’t need to know much about seamen to understand that it was blood.

Forgetting about what just happened, she leaned toward him.

- Let me help you!

The man stopped at these words and stared at her. The suffering was visible on his face, on which side there was blood falling, probably from a hidden injury. However, his silence was so long that she started to wonder if he could understand the human speech.

She tried again, more cautious.

- Do you understand what I say? – she pointed the injury – You’re hurt. You need help. Let me take care of this for you.

He kept staring at her for a few seconds before relaxing his position as sign of permission for her to approach. She came to bend closer to him and without touching the injury, started to examine it. It was an ugly thing he got there: a deep cut on his right side, apparently made with some sharp, metallic instrument like a big knife or a spear, that spread from his scapula to the center of his chest, almost reaching his left ribs. What was she going to do?

The first thing was to clean that blood as much as she could. She had nothing to do that but an apron she used to put upon her dresses to walk in case she found a shell she wanted to keep; she took it off and soaked it in the water to clean the bruise, and then folded it, using it to contain the bleeding.

- Please, hold it tight – she made the gesture of holding the fabric against the injury and touched his hand to tell him to imitate her.

He did it with his empty hand and, when she started to look around, trying to decide what to do next, he offered her the seaweed he was holding. She raised her eyes to him and he nodded; she immediately understood and took it from his hand.

The seaweed, when pressed and rubbed between the palms, formed a thick, creamy substance that glued to the skin with little effort and didn’t melt with the mere contact with water; it wasn’t so easy to spread, so the girl would need to be careful if she wanted that quantity to be enough for a large cut like that. When the salve was ready, she removed the apron from the cut and started to press the seaweed upon it.

It was indeed a strong medicine: as soon as it touched the bruise, he hissed, probably because it burned the sensitive skin. Yua stopped at it, but got back to her task when he seem to feel better.

She slowed her pace and softened the pressure she was applying, but it didn’t seem to help with the burning sensation because he kept hissing during the whole process.

- I’m sorry – she whispered, trying to calm him down as she worked – It will be over soon, I promise... It’s almost finished… Just a little bit…

As the treatment advanced, the seaman seemed to get used to the unpleasing sensation caused by the medicine: the hisses were less frequent now, and the tension on his muscles diminished. Maybe it was the medicine in action, or the certainty that Yua was not going to harm him – because whatever have happened to him moments before that encounter, he had his reasons to be on guard and afraid.

And after some minutes, everything was finally over. The seaman was visibly relieved; the burn must have stopped at that point. Yua washed her hands on the water, but kept what remained from the seaweed on her lap.

She observed him with more attention, not ignoring the blood on his face.

- Is this the only injury you got? – she questioned him and indicated the water plant – There’s still some seaweed we could use in this case.

At these words, he had a strange reaction. His looked away, as if trying to hide the blood and find a way to escape the conversation. But what could be so embarrassing that he didn’t want to tell her? Was it the fact that he just got help from a human being? Or didn’t he understand her language and didn’t know how to explain it? She tried to question him to find out, but he seemed to become nervous, and she was afraid to push him too far: having a potentially dangerous creature close to you and irritating him was not the best idea one could have.

The girl stretched her hand toward him, but closed it and moved it back to her lap. If he was a human, she could touch his shoulder or his hand to assure him about her good intentions, but in the present case she couldn’t be sure of how he was going to react to her gesture. The best way to proceed was, after all, continuing to speak.

- Listen… I don’t know if can understand what I’m saying, but I just want to help you, right? So, if you have a problem, you can show me, and I will do my best. You don’t need to be afraid.

And for the second time, she held back a scream: for the first time, the seaman spoke.

#naruto fanfiction #naruto founders #naruto au #tobirama senju #tobirama fanfic #tobirama x oc #fantasy au #merman

[unicornbitchface]

Raat ki Rani

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Background: A story set in the colonial past of India.

Beta’d by my lovely friend @madbaddic7ed​​ !

No warnings as such, but I shall let you know before the chapter if needed!

........................................................................................................................

Chapter 1

It was the third time someone had disturbed his sleep. “Go away, you shitbag!”, he growled.

The servant stood there, not knowing what to do. The Saab was already late by two hours for the meeting and had not even come down for breakfast. He did not dare to go back to the Maharaja with the same news again.

A set of heavy footsteps brought some relief to his pounding heart. Kulwant stood there, tall at seven feet and broad like the pillars of the palace. The servant tried to explain, but he was waved off. That was enough for the lanky fellow to understand that the job shall be done. After all, Kunwar Kulwant Singh was the very capable General and a close confidant of the king, Maharaja Ganga Singh. There was no job that was too low for his stature, and neither insurmountable.

The prick of ice-cold water hit the Lord before anything else. He was out of the bed in a flash, with his pistol cocked at the General. Face red with fury, he said, “How dare you? What the fuck do you think you are doing? Do you have a fucking death wish?” And with that, a bullet hit the door behind Kulwant.

Unknowing of his position and experience, Cavill expected the General to cower and beg for forgiveness. Instead, there wasn’t even a minute change in this giant man’s breathing.

“Are you done, Cavill Saab? Since you so politely asked, let me introduce myself. I am Kunwar Kulwant Singh, General to the Maharaja of Bikaner, Shri Ganga Singh. And I am here to take you to meet with him, which, as his guest, you should have taken the initiative of. 10 minutes, downstairs.”

With that, the broad tree left. What an odd fellow! The British own their asses, but the pomp hasn’t died. Well, he’s here now. Things ought to change. Whores don’t belong beside you in bed, they always belong under or on their knees.

The Maharaja waited in the Diwan-e-Aam. He needed this meeting to go well. He didn’t care about those pale buffoons, but the money he got was too tempting to abandon. Anyway, what did his ancestors achieve with all the morality in the world? Power leads, the weak follows and Ganga Singh was born with power.

While he waited, he had called upon his daughters, or liabilities that would cost him expensive dowries sooner or later. As they arrived, he asked them to be seated. He looked at his older ones, Renu Bai and Revati Bai, both gorgeous and docile- his favourites and began.

“I hope you all have been informed by your mother that we will now have a British employee in the court and he shall be living with us. You know what is expected of you, don’t you?”

Both of them nodded, while the third one sat there confused. Revati, the oldest said, “Yes Father, we know that we must not leave the zenana mahal without a chaperone and we are not to interact with that strange man.”

Ganga Singh nodded, proud of her answer. The third one, Damini Bai had not spoken a word, much to her father’s disappointment. But he did not lash out, as he had different plans for this wretched, rebellious daughter of his. He was about to give his orders when she spoke up.

“Shouldn't HE need a chaperone? After all, he is staying in MY house. Why curb my freedom, father?” THIS. This again. Sometimes Ganga had doubts that she was even his! Out of his four children, Damini was born with a tongue that wouldn’t stop wagging even in her sleep. Always asking, always questioning.

“Well, my lovely child, don’t worry. You do not have to curb anything! You are to fly. Fly right into the arms of the British dog, making sure he has everything he desires. You are to be his companion. Do not disappoint me Damini. Do you under-”

“I WILL JUMP IN A FRESH PYRE BEFORE I EVEN SHOW MY FACE TO THAT THUG! HOW COULD YOU, FATHER?! I AM YOUR BLOODY DAUGHTER!”

“LANGUAGE, DAMINI. Do not forget who you are standing in front of!”

“Of course I do, the great Maharaja of Bikaner, who seems to have forgotten his Rajputana pride for some petty gold. Good luck with your dog!”

She won’t go far. This was the last straw, and she will have to bend to his will even if he had to lock her in the Lord’s room himself!

*****************

Cavill walked through the corridors behind the General, who took three steps at a time! He could hear faint giggles and bell-like sounds when the giggles moved. He tried to spot these creatures but failed. Insanity all around!

With an empty stomach and disrupted sleep, he was not in the best moods when he was almost knocked off of his feet. Again.

That smell again.

Sweet.

Fresh.

Thick.

It engulfed him and rendered him speechless. All thoughts ceased, the time stopped. His feet couldn’t move, as if needing permission from the fragrance.

He could barely hear the Mountain talking to him, everything drowned around him. Like a moth to a flame, his heart took over and he ran after the scent.

Reaching a hall, he madly searched for the owner, or maybe there was no owner, only a source. Whatever it was, he wanted to know. No, scratch that, he needed to know or he would not survive.

It took a while for the madness to seep out of the air, which is when he realised where he stood and with whom. Shit! He was supposed to dominate, stand tall in authority and here he was, chanting “Who was here? That smell.” like a lunatic.

“Lord Cavill, I am not sure who you are talking about! And what smell?” said a voice deepened with age but firm nevertheless. The king was genuinely perturbed, and yet joyful that the British Raj had sent a bogus man to his court for audits.

“Um, it’s nothing I am sure. I apologise, I am perhaps tired from the long journey. So, shall we begin Mr Singh?”

The meeting went on for hours, with the Maharaja discussing various incomes and expenditures in quite the detail. However, his entire being was gripped by only one vice.

That smell.

Prologue

Chapter 2

#henry cavill #colonialstyle #british raj #cavillry #TheChurchOfCavill #henry thoughts #henry cavill fanfiction #india #raat ki rani

[clusterfullofblueberries]

come on! scream into the void and talk about your AUs! the void might talk back

I don’t think it will… but do I have a choice now that I’m stuck here?

*deep inhale*

Okay, so, I already wrote the two AUs down on my notes.

I’ve introduced the Newfound Family AU, but will repeat it once more here. Before I do, let me present the other AU

.See No Evil.

The main story is overall the same, with Frisk venturing into the underground to find their way back home. Along with making the choice to help monsters. But after they leave the Ruins, something follows them and intends on feasting on their human flesh (and soul ofc). Sadly for Frisk, they have no time to react and get attacked by this strange ink-like creature. (I just call them ink beasts going forward since there’s more than one here)

Something that Sans made a promise to the woman beyond the wall he's already failed miserably in. Which was to protect the human child. He does blame himself for it as what harmed them was beyond his magic control. He wasn't quick enough to stop the ink beast from taking the human's sight. But he did save the human from further danger by killing it. And going forward has taken good care of Frisk. Along with his brother Papyrus, who protects the little human child with his life.

Seems like they're not the only ones doing so as a strange, but comforting spirit by the name of "Chara" follows Frisk around. Acting as their eyes and speaking with Frisk often. It's kind of like having a true friend around. One that really cares about them genuinely and refuses to leave them alone. (Note: Chara is NOT evil. Never has and never will be. They are just a child like Frisk. Spirit child now, but you get the concept)

This is the story so far. Considering that it's a slow pace, but the whole deal about this AU is that some characters appear too early like Undyne going to Snowdin to check on the people once her and Papyrus saw an ink beast in the Waterfalls that nearly killed them both. Taking notice that similar creatures are starting to appear at random in the underground everyone has to be on the lookout.

Additional info on SeeNoEvil:

Sans and Papyrus eyes have been glowing long before the human came out of the Ruins. It's something that even they don't understand nor have the ability to control. This is often why you'll see them with an eye patch in public. They can see fine, yet they have their reasons for covering them up such as their eyes being sensitive and feeling overall embarrassed. Though that last part only applies for Papyrus. On the plus side, Undyne has told him that they both do look cool with glowing eyes. Which does lift their spirits up a bit. Still they both have them on. Especially Sans who has his on 90% of the time.

Beyond this point of the AU, Frisk is blind. If they were to open up their eyes it would hurt so much that they have to cover their eyes with a band. But to the surprise of them, when Chara asks for permission to use their eyes one day, the spirit gives Frisk the ability to see once again. It's only temporary, but they do make good use of their time and mentally record what they see. Even when they lose their sight, the human has good hearing to aid them. It's an improved skill that they have on their belt and is very much grateful for the sharp hearing.

Frisk doesn't fight monsters, but they do have to stay on guard with those ink beasts slithering around. If they're coming after them, they have to figure out a way to get as far away from these creatures. Killing them is genuinely a thing Frisk/Chara should do, but refuse to go near them in fear that they might eat their body and soul.

These ink beasts are NOT from this world. Where they came from is unknown to everyone. But it would be best for monsters to kill them as quickly as possible. Fire magic would be preferable, but at a safe distance so to not get your soul taken away. There are likely more methods, however this is by far the most affective one as demonstrated by a fire monster in Snowdin.

With that now set up, let me repeat what was about the first AU I had.

.Newfound Family.

This is an Alternate universe where Frisk has both Papyrus and Sans as their big brothers. Although the two brothers were once considered beloved friends to Frisk. After being on the surface with them for some time, Frisk began to see the skeleton brothers as their own siblings. They weren’t exactly sure if they saw Frisk that way, yet to the human’s surprise they were very much thrilled about being the big brothers to Frisk once they mentioned about being a family. Especially Papyrus.

Life going forward for the three was peaceful. And despite it being painful to see their little human sibling growing up so fast, it was nice at the same time. Their heart was set in the right place and only seemed to be getting stronger with time.

Additionally, they do have Toriel around to keep Frisk company when they’re out and everything in this life is looking bright.

There is one thing wrong however. Among the three siblings, both Sans and Papyrus have been hearing strange voices in their dreams. The voice is in some kind of language they aren’t aware of, but somehow with each dream repeating themselves they’re starting to translate. How? Neither have the slightest idea. Well, maybe they did know all along and only recently had the realization. On one particular occasion Papyrus has tried to speak out to the voice but when they did everything fell silent. Dead silent. Not easing the skeleton’s already rattled soul.

On the opposite end, Sans has been seeing this odd face. They don’t know it exactly, but it does feel familiar. Almost as if they’re someone they once knew but somehow forgot. As the two skeletons have this going on much of it is the same for Frisk with the exclusion of translating. What they do have is the full picture. They see the expression of what seems like another skeleton. A very tall one that almost looks like they even tower Papyrus. Scary as it was in the beginning, as their body seemed to melt, Frisk began to take notice that the skeleton kept appearing with the look of distress on them. Mouthing the word help as they held onto themselves.

The bizarre factor that I failed to mention before is that this skeleton changes shape too frequently. In one instance for Frisk, they’ll look like Papyrus with the exception of their grin resembling Sans, but other times they’ll become this morphed version of a skeleton that can’t stop melting away. It’s disturbing and it gets too much for all three to handle that they have to have friends come over and check on them. Toriel being the main one staying at their home. Bless her heart because she’s the mother they need.

I want to explain more, but my brain is going all over the place!! 😳 I just really like these two concepts I’ve made. I haven’t drawn or talked about Undertale since I was 15. I’m 20 now and am very much invested in rambling on about any of these AUs.

#;;rambling junk #answered asks #anonymous #undertale #undertale alternate universe #undertale au #sans #papyrus #frisk #chara #gaster #toriel #undyne #the family AU does have a good ending tho I will say that so no one gets worried

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 2

Title: Hurt, Healing, Help Pairing: Paz x OFC, OFC x OMC Word Count: ~2350 Rating: MA Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Chapters::Ch 1 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

📚 My Master List 📚 

Notes: This chapter contains potentially triggering material. Warnings for: mentions of past child abuse, past violence, and a lot of cursing. No graphic details, just a passing mention of certain situations that have occurred. The flashback occurs ~ten years before the story is currently happening.

Also, your nickname is Shu'shika. It means tiny disaster. I've been trying to format the HTML for this update on AO3 for two hours now, I don't think I can handle any more of the text popups right now. Also posted on AO3, where you can hover over the stuff in Mandoa or unfamiliar terms to see translations and notes. 

(See the end of the chapter for more notes and translations. Also let me know if you want to be tagged or something. @mandalorerose I am so sorry, pls don’t goor me from the server.)

[flashback]

The bright sunlight fills the clearing, bringing a touch of warmth to the smoky, frosty morning air. High up in the trees, the birds flit from branch to branch, watching the proceedings with unabashed curiosity. Occasionally, tiny creatures fight amongst themselves, scolding each other with a flurry of chirps.

Grinning, Paz sidesteps Neten’s blow easily, clamping down on his bracer tightly. Using the other man’s momentum, Paz latches onto Neten’s extended arm and pulls hard, causing him to lose his balance. Once he stumbles forward, Paz gives him a good shove, sending him careening forward into the soft grassy earth. A low ‘ooh’ goes up from the crowd as Neten trips and slams into the ground with a heavy thud. Paz nods, holding back, giving Neten enough time to recollect himself.

“Nice form, good strength,” Paz says, to encourage the younger man. “Let’s go through it one more time. Then we’ll break for water.”

“Sounds good, alor'ad,” Neten says.

“Swing at me,” Paz orders. “And I’ll show you the best way to…”

He trails off when he receives notification that his door alarm has been disabled. His brow furrows as he considers it for a few moments. Neten falters.

“Uh, you still with us, alor'ad?” Neten asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Paz said. “Swing at me.”

Paz recently upgraded the locking mechanism to keep the kids out of his candy stash. He does not mind sharing, but when six kilos of candy disappear in one week, he has to put his foot down. That, or the other parents would strangle him. Paz shakes away the feeling of unease and catches Neten’s fist in his. Grasping firmly, he halts Neten’s attack, freezing him in place.

“You’re trying to build up momentum from too far away. See how this leaves you open while you're swinging? Get in a bit closer,” Paz says, showing Neten how his previous attack left him vulnerable with a solid blow to the gut. “Stick a bit closer and – “

The door chime goes off again. Then it disables itself a second time. Zeli said she would be busy helping in the kitchen today. Paz frowns.

“Uh, right. When I push you forward, roll into the fall,” Paz says. “It’ll give you some space to work. Now, try it again.”

Neten swings a third time. Paz pushes him harder this time. Instead of falling, Neten curls his body forward and rolls into the fall. He comes up on his feet, but quickly loses his balance. He falls over.

“Shit,” Neten sighs.

“Just takes practice,” Paz says. “Get up, you’ll get it right.”

After walking him through the proper counter a few times, Neten finally manages to roll directly onto his feet and absorb the momentum with his knees. Then Paz turns to the crowd.

“Partner up,” he says. “Neten, you partner up with Fen.”

As he assigns partners, he chooses to place the most advanced fighters with the novices to ensure they teach the others. Paz finds he still cannot shake that weird feeling in his gut. Something nags at him until he decides to go investigate.

“Revala,” he says. “Keep an eye on these idiots for a minute?”

“Sure thing alor'ad,” she says, coming forward. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah…I just need to check on something,” he says. “No more than a few minutes. If they give you any backtalk, you have my full permission to make them run until they drop.”

“Yes, sir,” Revala exclaims gleefully as she turns back to their drilling vod, “Alright, losers, I’m in charge, and I’m going to make you suffer.”

“Gaa’tayl, alor'ad!” someone yelps.

Rousing laughter fills the clearing at the plea for help.

“K’atini!” Paz snaps over his shoulder. Wimps.

He turns toward the entrance to the hideout. Their current home is situated deep in a granite canyon. It was at one point some sort of pirate bolt hole, but over the decades, other Mandalorians had come and gone, making the space larger and adding some basic furniture. It is cramped, but it is well-hidden and easy to defend. Not only that, the family quarters have separate showers, a perk he does not hesitate to abuse. He makes his way down the main hallway, avoiding the fistfight between Din and Terys.

“If you two are going to slap each other like whiny little aruetiise, do it outside,” Paz snaps.

“He ate my uj’ayali,” Din snaps in response. “I was saving that, you dickhead – “

“I didn’t eat your fucking uj’ayali,” Terys grunts as he elbows Din in the side.

Paz shakes his head and continues toward the living quarters. Winding through the hallways, he finds himself surrounded by a throng of scuffling children. He breaks it up with a firm growl and sends the guilty parties to time-out. At long last, he comes to his door. As his hand hovers over the pad, he feels that sense of dread worsen, like a block of lead has suddenly materialized in his belly.

Paz almost hesitates, but he pushes forward. Something isn’t right here. He types in the code and watches as the door silently unlatches and swings open. He steps into the living area, his feet heavy and uncooperative. That feeling in his gut warns him to stay silent.

When he sees Zeli’s boots on the floor, he frowns.

He sees the second pair, hidden just out of sight, at the same time he hears Zeli’s cry. Paz inhales sharply and turns toward the bedroom, thinking that someone is actively forcing themselves on his beloved.

“Yes, Liam!” she cries out, stopping him in his tracks.

Paz can only stare, his stomach roiling violently at the sight of the two figures entwined under the light sheets. For several seconds, he stands there, frozen. Taking in the sights and sounds of their lascivious coupling. The wet slap of sweaty flesh meeting and Zeli’s throaty, animalistic keening. The way her short pink nails dig into Liam’s shoulders. The way he fervently fucks into Zeli, repeating what Paz had done with her just hours before.

“Oh, gods, Liam! Harder, h-harder!” she sobs, her sinewy body arching under his.

“Ni copaani hailir gar,” he pants. “Gedet’ye, cyare."

From here, he can see her digging her heels into his backside. The raised red welts she has left along his spine and shoulders. The livid bite marks along her shoulders.

As the harsh, unpleasant shock starts to set in, he feels his lips and face go numb, a deafening roar filling his ears. His chest tightens as he tries to tear himself away from the lurid scene, only for his gaze to land on the couch.

They had placed their helmets on the seat - her cherry-red helmet next to his deep grey helmet, the forehead ridges pressed together in a sweet kiss. As if to mock him. Paz turns his stinging eyes to the low table. The pieces of their armor are arranged neatly on the table. It is clear to him that the lovers had taken turns stripping each other, piece by piece.

This is not an act of drunken, frenzied passion.

This is a deliberate act of practiced intimacy.

In the years Paz and Zeli have been a couple, building their future together, she has not once asked him to use blindfolds. She has never once asked to break down that one last barrier keeping them from tasting each other’s lips for the first time. Yet here she is, fucking one of their closest friends in his bed. All while stringing him along with the promise that they will be one, that they will remove their helmets for each other for the first time on their wedding night.

How many times has Zeli allowed him to debauch her in their bed? In the same bed where Paz professed his love for her for the first time? The same haven where they spent countless hours in each other’s sweat-slick arms, fantasizing about the warriors they would eventually gift the tribe? How many times has he run his fingers along her breasts and inadvertently dragged his fingers through the dried remnants of another man’s sweat and saliva?

Revolting nausea fills him, that numb feeling creeping through his entire body, leaving him feeling so empty and cold. As his hands begin to shake, he clenches them into fists at his sides, his breath coming in shuddering pants as he struggles to not fucking sob. Bile rises in his esophagus, leaving his throat feeling bloody and raw.

Why?

Why?

The question keeps chasing itself through his thoughts as the agonizing knot in his chest threatens to tear him apart. He hears a giggle from the bed as Zeli flips Liam onto his back, the sheets shifting to reveal the delectable curve of her lower half, plump and succulent as she starts to bounce on his cock.

“Come in me, cyare,” she purrs to him.

“A-are you sure? You’re not - not - contraceptive – “

“Paz won’t know,” Zeli laughs. “He’s desperate for kids.”

Those words are the catalyst for his rage, like a lit match dropped into a barrel of volatile jet fuel.

Incandescent rage unfurls explosively in his chest, evaporating the cold sorrow that had once filled him in an instant. He feels his blood pressure and heart rate spike, leaving his vision thin and black and pulsating at the edges. Paz takes one menacing step toward the doorway, his entire body trembling as he struggles to contain the inner maelstrom of hatred.

It would be so, so easy for him to make them suffer, to make them feel the bone-deep agony they have inflicted on him. All he has to do is step into the bedroom. Look at their faces. Break the blood-oath of secrecy they had sworn to uphold a second time. By seeing their faces, he is a witness to their identities, and they will not be given the option to marry.

With just a few more steps, he can destroy them; he can take away everything and everyone they have ever loved. He can make Zeli’s worst nightmare a reality – she will lose her father, her sisters, and her friends. She will have only her lover by her side. Liam will be declared dar’buir by proxy. They will both be exiled in their dishonor and shame.

Suddenly, he sees Zephyr’s gap-toothed, mischief-filled grin and he comes to a grinding halt.

Zephyr was broken when Liam had found him huddled in the burnt-out husk of his ancestral home. Raiders had tortured his family and forced him to watch as they were killed, one by one. After they had taken their amusement, they had beaten Zephyr, leaving the young boy to die alone in the wastes. It was only by pure fortune that Liam had seen the smoke and gone to investigate, thinking it was his prey.

Instead, he had found a mute six-year-old boy wrapped in a ragged, blood-stained blanket, his tiny, emaciated frame covered in a multitude of bruises and lacerations. It took three years of love from the Tribe for the boy to speak again. After those first words, Zephyr had risen from the ashes of his shell, soaring like the celestial starbird.

Zephyr had finally found his voice and his manda, bringing life and light back into his eyes.

His gut wrenches and a new type of agony lances through his heart. It pierces him, wounding him so deeply he physically cannot breathe. He bites down hard on the sides of his tongue to stifle the sob threatening to escape his throat. His teeth break skin and the taste of copper fills his mouth. Paz cannot do it. He cannot be the reason Zephyr has to relive the loss of his family.

He will not be the reason the light leaves Zephyr’s eyes again. No amount of agony inflicted upon him - a grown man - could ever justify harming an innocent child for the sake of revenge.

Paz forces himself to exhale. Blinking, the tears finally fall, burning their way down his cheeks before finally soaking into his beard. Stiffly, he makes his way back to the couch and picks up their helmets, taking Zeli’s in his left and Liam’s in his right.

Acrid bitterness fills the shattered remains of his heart as he looks down at Zeli’s helmet. The paint on the forehead ridge has worn away from the many passionate kisses they have shared. Cynically, he wonders how much of that paint was worn away by Liam. How many embraces have they shared behind his back? How many times have they bared their fucking souls to one another in his bed?

Paz turns back to the door and exits, leaving the couple to their tryst. As the door clicks shut behind him, he suddenly feels intense exhaustion, his armor suddenly becoming stifling and heavy. Each breath feels like tar in his lungs as he leans heavily against the wall opposite the door.

“Hey, Paz,” Din says, coming toward him. “Bad news. Your idiots outside managed to set something on fire – “

Seemingly sensing something wrong, Din comes to a halt an arm span away. He leans forward slightly, coming to his side, in a show of brotherly concern.

“Ori’vod,” Din says softly. “Are you okay?” Paz draws in a great, gasping breath, his gaze still fixed on the door.

“Not in the least bit, vod,” he admits hoarsely, his voice breaking.

Din looks down at the helmets in his hands and comes to the only logical conclusion. He hisses through his teeth.

“I will drag them to the Foundry like the worthless fucking hut’uun they are,” Din hisses, his fingers flexing as he takes a step toward the door.

“No,” Paz says immediately, shaking his head.

“Why the fuck not?” Din demands sharply, his voice rising to an angry roar. “They betrayed the Oath, Paz!”

“Din, keep your voice down,” Paz says, ushering him away from the door and toward the Foundry. “I know what they did.”

“He called you his brother,” Din snaps angrily. “She called you her intended. They are liars, they broke their Oaths - !”

“Zephyr,” Paz says, his voice cracking again. “I don’t want to risk…”

The rage leaves his brother in an instant. He deflates like a wilted desert orchid. Din sighs gustily, looking between him and the door.

“What can I do to help, vod?” Din asks quietly.

“Just keep people away from me for a while,” Paz utters. “Armorer…she will know what to do.”

Gods, he prays she knows what to do.

“Absolutely,” Din says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll always be here, ori’vod.”

Paz swallows thickly and nods, not trusting himself to speak. When he has regained control over his legs, he starts the long walk to the Forge. Each step feels like he is scaling some sheer cliff, the air thin and frosty in his lungs. Din runs interference, keeping the people trying to get his attention at bay. Pausing, he closes his eyes and considers what he is about to do.

Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc.

He knows what the right thing to do is. Paz just does not know if he can do it.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself questioning his faith.

-

-

-

[current]

Armorer is in the middle of brewing a pot of her favorite tea when she hears footsteps in the Foundry. She looks up and sees Paz poking his head around the main doorway. That simple gesture brings back many memories of their earlier years together. Armorer has left the door to her private quarters open, the curtain drawn back, inviting those in need of guidance into her home.

She reaches for a second cup just as he reaches to knock on the door frame. Even though they’ve been family for nearly three decades, he still insists on knocking.

“Paz, join me,” she says.

He steps inside, ducking his head in a polite, respectful greeting.

She turns back to the chipped tea pot. Their new Tribe introduced them to the concept of tea, and now, she indulges every afternoon. Paz joins her and pulls a metal straw out from his gauntlet.

“What brings you here, Paz?” she asks, as the scent of the hot, spiced tea permeates the air. 

He stares down at the cup, tension filling his massive frame.

“I wanted to ask your advice on something,” he says in a serious tone.

She remains silent, her brow furrowing.

“I’ve taken an interest in a woman,” he says. “And I want to ask her to be my partner. I want to know more about proper courtship traditions.”

It is only through years of experience and training that she does not jerk in surprise. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She is somehow surprised and not surprised at the same time. He has gotten to that age where a hunter starts staying at home for longer periods of time to teach their skills to the next generation. Although he is also bound to be lonely, she cannot recall him mentioning a partner.

She knows her friend, and she knows he will not entertain the idea of a serious relationship without the promise of marriage. After what the aruetiise had done to him, he had thrown himself into the hunt, turning his back to the possibility of marriage. Or anything long-term, really. The wounds were so deep she did not think he would ever fully heal.

He – like the rest of their kind – has been shaped from birth by hardship and struggle. He has had to fight for the victory of every single sunrise. Despite the crushing setbacks in his personal life, Paz has held his head high, always teetering on the edge of fully reaching mandokar - the ideal virtues of a Mandalorian warrior. It is that lost lust for life that has held him back all these years.

Now, he is ready to move forward, to hunger for each moment and experience in his life. Throughout the years, Armorer has seen glimpses of the warrior he could become. He is on that path now. Her heart fills to the point of overflowing for him.

She nods once.

“You know of our Tribe’s tradition of exchanging blades before the vows are spoken,” Armorer says.

Paz nods.

“What about here?”

“Alor Dezha has remarked that the Elders prefer to publicly acknowledge that the vows have been exchanged before the wedding night physically occurs. They typically do this as part of the wedding feast. Ultimately, it is your decision. You may choose one, both, or neither. As you know, we make do with with what we have. We do not have rigid rules in place.”

“That’s less complicated than I thought it would be,” he responds. “Nevertheless, I want to do this the right way for her. I think I’d like to do both.”

She is truly pleased with the news. If he is interested in entering the riduurok there is a chance he is also interested in rearing offspring. He will make an excellent spouse, parent, and teacher.

The youngest child here is eight years old. In just a few years, he will be fitted for his armor, and he will no longer be a child. Armorer and many others have expressed the desire to hear more little feet in the hallways. Hopefully, Paz will continue doing what he does best – inspiring and encouraging others through his leadership and his unwavering dedication to the Resol’nare.

Perhaps the other Hunters will begin reconsidering their unwed statuses so they may finally begin to increase their numbers once more.

Paz fidgets with his cup for a moment, breaking her from her reverie.

Now, she must satisfy her curiosity.

“Who has caught your attention?” the Armorer asks, keeping her tone casual and light, even as her thoughts whirl with plans for the feast and bonfire celebration.

Her thoughts then leap to naming ceremonies, but she restrains herself. They will need time to settle in as a married couple before producing or finding children.

“I want Shu’shika."

Armorer blinks in response.

“Shu’shika has caught your attention,” she confirms, carefully keeping her voice neutral, to give herself time to think of an appropriate response.

“Yes. How do we go about this courtship business, then?"

How unorthodox. Yet, as she considers it, she can see why he wants you. Paz has always appreciated the company of those who put the Tribe before themselves, and you are no exception. If a hunter or child has need, you will forego sleep to ensure they are properly cared for. Nothing will keep you from caring for those around you. Your dedication and loyalty to the Tribe will never be contested. With extra training, Armorer can see you shaping up into a halfway decent warrior in time.

“What exactly do you wish to know, Paz?” she asks curiously.

“How?”

Armorer blinks, though he cannot see it. She had not been ambiguous.

“What do you mean how?”

“How do I convince her to agree to courtship?” he clarifies, giving her what she interprets as an expectant look.

A furrow forms between her brows as she stares at her companion. Based on the rampant, unbridled scuttlebutt, there is no shortage of available and willing partners for a hunter of his stature and skill. She herself had once harbored an attraction to him, though that had been roughly two decades ago when she was just a feral, hormone-riddled teenager with far more free time than common sense.

“Most people start by asking their interest out on a date,” Armorer says slowly.

“A date,” he repeats.

Armorer almost sighs. Perhaps she had overestimated Paz’s general intelligence level.

“A date is an activity wherein two individuals assess their mutual compatibility and – “

“Armorer, I know what a date is. What does that even have to do with courtship?”

"Courtship is dating, Paz, but with the intent to marry, and no carnal relations."

"Oh. That makes sense. And how do I get her to agree to this?"

“How do you normally secure your partners?” she asks bluntly.

Paz recoils ever so slightly.

“I have only had a handful of one-time arrangements…since…”

Well. That is unexpected.

“Paz, you must simply ask,” she responds. “You are one of our best hunters. There are many who are interested in having you as a partner. I am certain she will be flattered by your request.”

“…but how? I haven’t asked anyone out on a date in eighteen years,” Paz says. “I honestly don’t know what people do on dates nowadays.”

“Just ask her to accompany you on an outing,” she responds.

“So, like…shooting? Do people even still go shooting on the first date?”

“Just pick something you know she enjoys,” Armorer says, faintly annoyed.

“Alright, I can do that,” he says. “One more question, Armorer.”

“What is it?” she asks.

Despite her affection for the older man, she is unable to keep the annoyance out of her body language. Maybe the age-old Mandalorian saying still holds true today: three braincells for the entire Tribe and the Alor holds two of them for safekeeping. However, Alor Dezha is a Hunter down to the marrow in his bones...perhaps it would be best to leave the braincells in the possession of a Tradesperson, where they won't risk being eaten.

“You’re a woman, aren't you? So, tell me: what do you ladies like on dates?”

She is so offended and incredulous that she splutters indignantly at him. As she struggles to come up with a proper retort, she becomes aware of his shoulders shaking.

She tightens her jaw. He always has been able to get under her plating to chafe at her like no one else. If anyone else had grown the balls to ask her something like that, she would not have hesitated to put her hammer through their skull.

“Paz, get the hell out of my room.”

He erupts into boisterous guffaws as he thumps his fist onto the table.

“Would you want chocolates? Flowers? The severed heads of your enemies?” he gets out through his giggles.

“I will goor your ass into the Forge,” she says in amusement, reaching for her hammer in warning.

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he gets up to leave, and hightails it away before she can make good on her threat.

Armorer smiles under her bucket.

She hasn’t heard him laugh like that in a long time.

He will be just fine.

-

-

-

Paz paces nervously around the table for the fifth time, pausing to try and flatten the curling plastic tile underfoot. When that fails, he continues on his path around the table. Paz stops when the door opens. Din strides in, closes the squeaky door behind him, and takes a seat. The chair groans under his weight as he leans back.

“So, what’s got your bucket straps chafing?” he asks.

Paz immediately regrets asking for help. Especially from Din. But, being his brother through both vow and combat, Paz trusts no one else as much as he trusts Din.

“I need some advice,” Paz says carefully.

“What sort of advice?” Din asks, his helmet tilting a bit to the right.

“I want you to swear you won’t tell anyone,” he says firmly.

No one needs to know about his lack of experience.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Din says.

“Swear it,” Paz stresses flatly.

“Alright, alright,” Din says.

“On my honor, I swear I won’t tell anyone about anything we’re about to discuss.”

Paz takes a deep breath as he struggles to come up with the words needed to explain his unique situation. How the fuck is he supposed to even ask about this?

Has Din ever even been on a date before?

Gods above, he is too old for this shit.

“Does this have anything to do with those problems men your age typically get?” Din asks suddenly, breaking the silence. “You know, below the codpiece?”

He gestures down toward his crotch, as if his words were not mortifying enough.

“What?” Paz asks incredulously.

Din holds both hands up as if trying to defend himself.

“Look, Paz, every rifle malfunctions eventually,” Din says in what he might think is a comforting tone. “Especially when a man starts to get into his forties and fifties – “

“No, stop. My di - that part of me is just fine,” Paz snaps in annoyance. “I’m not that old, you little shit.”

“Oh. Okay,” Din says. “So, what is it? You’ve been acting really strangely for the past few weeks.”

Their buir did not raise either of them to be a hut’uun. He can do this, get those words out. He is a grown-ass man and he can be direct. Fuck delicacy. That kind of bantha-shit doesn’t work for Mandalorians, anyway.

“There’s a woman I’ve taken an interest in,” Paz says. “I’d like to give her a proper courtship. I was wondering if you had any input on where I could take her on a date.”

Din doesn’t react. For a moment, Paz wonders if Din even heard him. As the seconds tick by, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead seems to grow louder. Then he hears a choked wheeze from his modulator, one that sounds like someone is strangling a de’kath bird with piano wire. Din’s shoulders shake violently as he starts to howl with laughter.

“You’re – you’re coming to me for advice on dating?” he gasps out, “Me? Din Dumbass Djarin?”

Paz falters at the mention of Cara’s affectionate nickname for Din. He shrugs once in response. Then he sinks down onto the table and crosses his arms.

“Yeah. Half a braincell is better than none, right?”

Din goes silent for several seconds.

“Holy fuck, you’re serious,” Din whispers. “Paz, I can barely keep my shit together. What makes you think I, of all people, would know anything about dating?”

“I haven’t been on a proper date in eighteen years,” Paz says dryly to Din. “I don’t know how this shit works anymore.”

A pregnant silence follows.

“Din, I’m over Zeli. I’ve been over her bantha-shit for a few years now,” Paz says. “I am ready to try something long-term again.”

“Fuck,” Din breathes. “We’ve all been wondering…if you’d…you know.”

“Stop wallowing in my self-pity and move on with my life?” Paz asks sardonically. “The past few years…I have been working on improving myself. Figuring out how to best honor the Resol’nare...All the stuff we were supposed to figure out years ago.”

“Paz, I’m happy to hear that,” Din says. “I’m glad you’re going to be you again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paz says, waving off Din’s comment. Shit, this is getting too emotional for him. “Whatever.”

Din snorts.

“Anyway. As for dating…I mean, there are better people to ask. I really could not help you with the dating thing.”

“Surely you’ve had a partner,” Paz says. “I’ve heard rumors about you and Cara.”

“Cara wants the simple things in life: good beer and to regularly beat someone's ass,” Din says. “I just so happen to be good at both finding good beer and getting my ass beat. When I asked her out, she almost pissed herself laughing at me.”

“Well, she said yes, which is more success than I’ve had,” Paz says. “I don’t know shit about this. The only people who care about courtship are the Elders.”

“And you now, apparently,” Din argues back.

He does have a point.

“Well…she means a lot to me. She isn’t a temporary arrangement,” Paz says carefully. “I’d like to do this the right way for her. So she knows I’m serious. And that I'm not just after...sex.”

Din inhales deeply, tapping his fingers on the table as he stares at the wall.

“Well, buir once told us that women like providers. So, go find a really big marsh deer, kill it, dress it, and bring everything back to her,” Din says, shrugging his shoulders. “Women like meat and leather, right?”

His tone is as uncertain as the way Paz feels about presenting you with a dead animal. They stay silent for several seconds.

“I’m fairly certain buir was joking when he told us that,” Paz says slowly.

“Huh,” Din says. “You know, now that it’s been said out loud…it does sound kind of ridiculous. Shit.”

They stay quiet for several moments, considering how truly fucked they both are when it comes to relationships. They’ve both had the occasional pleasure arrangement. And pleasure arrangements only require interest and about ten minutes. After his dumpster fire of a relationship with Zeli went down in a fiery, messy explosion, Paz never really considered settling down for marriage.

Why is this so damn difficult?

Din sighs, breaking him from his reverie, and tilts his helmet in his direction. It’s a sort of acknowledgement, an understanding that they are both committed to figuring this courtship business out together. Paz supposes that Din’s going to have to learn a few things, too, if he's somehow going to convince Cara to stick around with him for more than a few months. At the very least, Paz is grateful that Din picked someone smarter than himself. At least their children will have one intelligent parent.

“So. Who is it that has you acting all emotional, all ready to get domesticated?” Din asks, waving his hand around a bit.

“Shu’shika,” Paz says. “She’s…she’s the one I’m interested in.”

Din’s head snaps up so hard and fast that Paz hears his vertebrae crack from here.

“What?” Din asks. “Shu’shika?”

“What the fuck is with that tone, Din?” Paz snaps irritably. “If you’re going to insult her – “

“What? No, no,” Din says. “I’m not insulting her, no way. She doesn’t seem like your type, Paz. She’s…uh…not the most athletically gifted. Or the best at...hand-to-hand combat.”

That is the most diplomatic tone he has ever heard from Din and it pisses him the hell off. Paz does not like the idea of someone insulting you.

“She’s perfect the way she is,” Paz says flatly.

Din holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not judging your taste in women,” Din says mildly. “I was just…uh…surprised. I thought you’d go for someone like Nayel, or maybe even Revala.”

“They aren’t Shu’shika,” Paz says, shrugging.

Nayel and Revala are both warriors and hunters, the two of them direct competitors for their age and skill group. Nayel has even made a few passes at him, but her hand against his doesn’t send that little bolt of tingling pleasure radiating up along his spine. She always wants to fight with him. While he appreciates having good sparring partners, he sometimes wants something quieter.

“Well, we are both shit at this,” Din says. “So, we treat this like any other battle to be fought and won. What intel do you have for me?”

Paz starts to list the data, growing more comfortable as he settles into the comforting routine of what he does know how to do. Win a fight. Then again, he isn’t sure if he should be looking at courtship like it’s a battle to be won.

-

-

-

Notes:

Alor'ad - Captain Vod - comrade, mate, brother - different contexts based on the people involved Gaa'tayl - help Aruetiise - outsiders, traitors. When used to refer to an outsider, it's not an insult. It's just a state of being. When used to refer to a Mandalorian, it's an insult. Uj'ayali - Mandalorian cake made from ground nuts, fruit, spices. Delicious. "Ni copaani hailir gar. Gedet'ye, cyare." - "I want to fill you. Please, my love." Cyare - beloved Dar'buir - "Divorce" from a parent, like disowning them. Rare, usually only done if the parent is a shithead. Starbird - Star Wars creature that is basically a phoenix. It's supposedly reborn in the heart of a star, etc. Manda - Soul, that which makes someone Mandalorian hut'uun - coward, an egregious insult Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc. - Family first and the individual second - randomly made this saying up. Mandokar - the virtues of the ideal Mandalorian - aggressiveness, tenacity, loyalty, and a lust for life. Riduurok - love bond between two spouses, marriage Resol'nare - The six tenets by which all Mandalorians abide. Short version: "Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language and our leader all help us survive." Alor - leader Goor - Goore --> Grenade --> You toss a grenade --> Therefore goor is the Mando equivalent of yeet. Humor from Tumblr. De'kath bird - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. The bird sounds like a raven, a tuba, and a paper shredder all got together and made an ugly, horrifying baby. Marsh deer - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. A marsh deer is about twice as tall as a giraffe and has huge antlers that can cause serious damage if they ram someone. They are generally herbivorous, but when they are in the middle of rutting season, they become opportunistic carnivores. They also dislike humans and will attack unprovoked. Also, they make for good eating and hunting. OYA! Shu'shika - Nickname I made up using shu'shuk (disaster) and -ika (diminutive), means Tiny Disaster. Because Reader is a tiny disaster.

#tv: the mandalorian #the mandalorian #A Proper Mandalorian Courtship #din djarin #paz vizsla #paz vizla #the armorer #paz vizsla x f!reader #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #family relationships #din djarin x cara dune #original characters #angst #heavy angst #no use of y/n #star wars #paz vizla x f!reader #series: a proper mandalorian courtship

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 21- The Seer

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count:4640

Warnings: None

AN: This one’s kinda boring, but it moves everything along.

20- Always A Hero Comes Home

...

A new thrall bounces quietly about the room, lighting all the candles in the chambers now that darkness has descended over Kattegat.

Her name was Geirdis, a frightened little thing, possibly a few years younger than Artemis herself. She was dutiful, doing what was expected of her, except Artemis felt she was in no position to be giving the poor girl orders. Even now she felt a slight discomfort with her presence, knowing she could do all these simple tasks herself.

Artemis was once in her place, serving a haughty prince, but somehow, that all felt so long ago. As far as she was concerned, she was just Kattegat's blacksmith, second only to Arvid's father and his young apprentice. She preferred it that way as it resembled the simple life she once had. Her only privilege was that she slept beside the king, nothing out of the ordinary here in Kattegat, but something shameful where she was from.

There was a chill in the air that night, the signs of winter rearing its head. Clusters of ravens cawed into the night sky loud enough to spark her curiosity, pulling at the fur draped over the window for a glance. The dark creatures circled about the trees and were hard to make out in the darkness. The more intently she stared, the closer they seemed to be, until suddenly one appeared opposite the glass, its large wings flapping wildly as it cawed, its beady black eyes looking straight at her.

She lets out a yelp, stepping back while placing a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm her beating heart.

"My lady?" Geirdis calls out to her. She turns her attention away from the window in favor of looking at the young blonde girl, her chest slightly heaving. Geirdis eyes her for a moment, a look of confusion clouding her face.

Did she not hear the cawing of the raven?

"Please, there is no need to address me in such a way." Artemis finally says to her with a sigh, shaking her head to dispel the sudden shock that ran through her bones. Such titles were a nuisance, why should she be regarded in such a way? She was no lady.

Her eyes landed on Geirdis's hands, in which she held two luxurious garments, one a rich red, the other a soft blue. 

"You are the kings intended, my lady, I must," Geirdis says, walking over to place the dresses upon the bed, "The seamstress has made these for you upon the king's orders."

Both dresses were exceptional in design and beautifully crafted. Made of wool, they were meant to fight the chill that would soon take over Kattegat. Embroidered in a delicate way, with precious stones stitched within, they were fit for a woman of noble birth. Artemis gravitates towards the blue dress, admiring the small sea pearls and the delicate silver stitching that she could never have mastered herself. The wool was soft, much softer and prettier than anything she'd ever owned.

"When did he request these?"

"About a fortnight ago, my lady." Ivar seemed eager to plan the festivities. It made her smile.

"My lady!" Aria's familiar voice calls from behind the leather curtain. The redhead peaks her head in, waiting for permission to enter.

"Aria, it is far too late," Artemis rolls her eyes but motions for her to come in, "How did you manage to slip away under Erik's nose? And don't call me that!" Aria laughs, quickly glancing at Geirdis's nervous form before answering.

"He is asleep, quite exhausted from certain activities," The younger thrall blushes but says nothing while Artemis shakes her head,"And Dafi let me in, of course. I like him by the way, the king has given you a handsome guard." Artemis snorts at Aria's obvious promiscuity.

"I only wanted to let you know, the Jarl intends to go back to his lands after your wedding ceremony." Aria says with a sad smile. Artemis frowns, but nods in understanding. She hadn't had the luck of making many friends, and Aria was the best of them, besides Helga.

"But," Aria continues, "At least I will see you as a bride before I go. It feels like only yesterday that I was teaching you to mend, and now you are to be marrying a king." The green eyed girl laughs, quickly taking Artemis into a tight embrace.

"I wish there was something I could do for you." Artemis says sadly. The Jarl would never dare part with his favorite thrall. Geirdis's light eyes widened at their interaction before turning her head at the sounds of her mistress's dog barking in glee, followed by the familiar thumping of a crutch.

"My king!" Geirdis bows her head, with Aria immediately following suit. Ivar carefully walks in, pushing past the leather curtain. He looked massive standing at his full height. He wore his usual leather, but it was simplistic. Upon his shoulders was a small pelt of grey fur, giving him the appearance of a giant wolf. He purses his lip, surprised at the red head's presence before his eyes fall to Artemis.

"Why don't you just buy her from Erik?" He asks nonchalantly, making his way over bed and gently moving the dresses away, "Leave us." He says to both the thralls with a lazy hand gesture. They bow before him once again, making a quick exit.

"I don't think the Jarl would appreciate that very much," Artemis answers him with a smile, "She has her...duties."

"And yet, I always find her in your company." Ivar replies, yawning as he leans back against his elbows. He had risen early that morning, out scouting with Hvitserk and Heahmund on the whereabouts of his other two brothers. Still no luck.

"I happen to enjoy her company." She says, grabbing his crutch and kneeling before him to remove his metal cages. He hisses silently, the pain inevitable, but let's her finish the job.

"Wear the blue one." He grunts suddenly.

"Hmm?" She moves from the iron to focus on how the candlelight illuminated his features perfectly.

"For the wedding," He says quietly, "Wear the blue one."

“What of the red one?”

“Blue is more your color,” Ivar shrugs, “I just wanted to give you options.” Artemis grins, cocking her head at the timid little look he was trying to hide.

"If that is what you wish," She says to him teasingly, "Thank you for the lovely dresses." She smiles when he waves his hand with a light snort, a flush spreading over his cheeks. She places his braces and crutch aside for easy access in the morning before climbing atop the bed behind him, working the braids and twists out his hair. Her nails scratch lightly against his scalp, and he groans in delight, like a kitten purring in her arms.

"You will make a lovely queen." He says, eyes closed as he lowers his head to her lap, a sweet smile on his playing on his lips.

"You think so," She sighs, gently pulling at the small knots that had formed during the day, "But will I be the right queen?" She says this more to herself than to him, but Ivar cracks a blue eye open in response, his brow pulling together in that innocently confused fashion.

"You are worried," He states, perhaps knowing more than he let on. He knew that the prospect of marriage frightened her, her usual nervous antics in plain sight. It was not because she felt any less for Ivar, he knew that. He guarded her heart as she guarded his and it was absolute, a life line that the fates wouldn't dare to cut. A love had blossomed where no one thought a seed to grow.

"How is a foreigner to rule your people?" She asks him.

"They will become your people too, baby bird. Do not be so fearful."

"Why do you make it seem so simple, hmm?" Artemis scoffs but continues massaging his scalp, effectively releasing the sighs and groans of a hard day, "You have been a prince all your life, and now a king. Your people have always respected you."

It was Ivar's turn to scoff.

"You think my legs have given me any respect?" There was something in the way he said those words, almost like a twinge of anger, maybe even sadness. When they left his mouth she knew she'd said something wrong.

"The children always laughed at me, the people spoke ill of me, my own father left me on a hill to die," Ivar chuckles darkly, placing an arm over his face, as if the physical action would guard him against his memories. "I have been underestimated my entire life, and yet, I've earned the respect of the army, and I've earned the respect of the people. Now who do they follow? A cripple, but a true son of Ragnar." He removes his arm away from his face, his eyes searching hers. What he saw was uncertainty. He brings a hand to trace a finger down her soft cheek, causing her eyes to flutter gently.

"A true follower of the gods." He says softly, swiping the very tip of his finger over her lips. Closing her eyes, she removes her hands away from his silken dark strands, letting them fall over her lap.

"I’m sorry," She says weakly, "I did not mean-"

"You'd make an excellent queen." He cuts her off, grunting as he pushes forward to lean against his elbows again. Carefully, he turns his torso to face her. His loose hair in waves shape the sides of his face, a brightness in his large eyes. In that moment he did not appear to be Ivar The Boneless who so many have created fearsome stories of.

"What makes you say so?" She questions stubbornly, sliding off the bed and taking hold of the dresses to carefully store in her brown chest at the foot of the bed.

"You are not selfish, nor prideful," Ivar lists, "And you have worked along side the people of Kattegat. You know of their struggles and they know of yours. Your hands bare the mark of hardship. Who will understand their needs better than you and I, hmm? Come here." He extends his hand out for her to take, and when she does, he gently pulls her into an embrace.

"You have been blessed by the gods," He says against her hair, a repetitive of his. She closes her eyes at his warmth surrounding her, "You may not see it now, but you will in time. This is where you were meant to be. Right here."

Artemis cracks a smile, sitting beside him. Her hand follows a path that led from his leather covered chest, to his broad shoulders. She removes the fur, her hands finally settling on the nape of his neck, absentmindedly weaving her fingers in his hair. She burrows her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

"You mean in your arms?" She asks knowingly, and could feel the smile growing on his lips before he placed a kiss atop her head, and then shifting to bend lower, molding his lips with hers.

"Mhm. In my arms."

...

"That dog of yours is no hound." Heahmund comments in Greek, watching with lazy eyes as the once abandoned creature stomps about with large paws, his black wrinkly face covered in drool. The beast quickly sniffs at the dying grass before turning to Heahmund as if he heard and understood the comment.

Artemis smiles, watching as the bishop bends low, beckoning the large pup over with his hands. The dog wastes no time in stomping over, large tongue hanging out his mouth as he ran, almost taking down the bishop with his brute strength.

"Then what is he?" She asks, raising her bow and aiming her sharp arrow at the target hammered to the tree. Taking a deep breath, she lets go of the tight bow string, hurling the arrow into its destination with ease. The arrow head pierced the center of the wooden target, and she cheered. Her aim was nearly perfect, and the new arrow heads she had forged had done its job.

"He's a mastiff, a guard dog. The Lords in England use them to protect their castles."

"Hmm.” That explained why he guards the chamber entry with Dafi. She whistles, and the pup forgets Heahmund in favor of his mistress, who scratches behind both his floppy ears lovingly. In his excitement he barks in glee, tongue lapping out at her.

"What did you name him?"

"Heracles."

"A famous Greek." Heahmund hums in approval. Heracles was almost as large as Ivar's adult elkhounds, and far from the little abandoned pup she had found back in York. Left behind in Vestfold along with Ivar's hounds, King Harald's men had brought the beasts back once Ivar had established his rule in Kattegat.

He did not sniff the ground rigorously, nor fetch things as hounds would, but his massive size was extremely intimidating, and he had a fierce loyalty and sense of protection towards the woman that took him in, as well as the king, who had now grown a softness for the english creature.

Readying her bow, Artemis takes her stance once again, straightening her back in well practiced movements. Another arrow shot perfectly, but before she can prepare the next one, Heahmund clears his throat.

"Ivar has been speaking of plans for the wedding."

His tone was so nonchalant, that Artemis missed it at first, pulling the arrow from her quiver. She hesitated, turning to him to give her full attention. She knew it was a matter of time before he'd mention that he knew.

"Has he?"

"Is this what you want?" Heahmund countered back, his steady eyes on her, making her feel quite small. He always had that effect, and was one of the reasons why she had disliked him so much from the start.

"Why? Will you try and change my mind?" She challenges. Heracles immediately sensed her foul mood forming, bouncing over to sit by her feet.

"You are a Christian," The bishop  starts, "A union between a Christian and a heathen is unheard of."

"Ivar has told me his uncle married into Frankish nobility."

"For that to be finalized he had to be baptized as a Christian. And what will you have to do? Convert to their pagan ways?"

"I recall you speaking to me of destinies." Artemis forms her stance again. The next arrow flies but slightly misses its mark. She sucks her teeth, pulling out a another arrow. "And for once, you may have been right." Her eyes were so focused on the target that she had missed the skeptical look on the older man's face. She had not seen, but he raises a brow.

"What are you talking about?"

"A raven."

"A raven." Heahmund repeats, unimpressed.

"I am told they are a symbol of the god Odin."

"What of it?"

"The day of the battle I was visited by a raven..." She trails off, lowering the bow as she tried to figure out how to continue without sounding like a mad woman. Heahmund crosses his arms, still unimpressed.

"What happened?"

"I saw him." The bishop was quiet for a moment as if in thought, until he shook his head with a chuckle.

"Do you hear yourself?"

"I saw him." She insists, "He changed the outcome of the war."

"You speak blasphemy," He says. He wasn't wrong in saying such things, but it still annoyed her greatly. In response, Artemis prepares her bow and shoots the arrow at him without warning. The arrow struck the tree behind him, and he flinched when he heard it whizz by. If it were any closer, it would have grazed his cheek. He glares at her.

"You irritate me." She says with a shrug.

"You are already losing your way. You do not wear your cross." Her hand shoots up to her collarbone, fingers grazing her skin bare of any significant trinkets relating to her faith. She rolls her eyes in the way she learned so well from Ivar.

"Do you think it wise to give such opinions when the King had elevated you to a commander and an advisor. He could have killed you."

"I did what was necessary to survive."

"And look at you now," She let's out a sarcastic laugh that further infuriated Heahmund, "Alive and well, with much privilege. Do not try to sway my mind again, Heahmund. These decisions are mine to make."

"You act like these warrior women." The bishop shakes his head, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Pray for deliverance." He says, brooding in his usual manner as he mockingly bows to her, walking away like a sulking child that didn't get their way.

Artemis huffs, sticking her tongue out at his retreating figure before pulling another arrow and aiming it towards the target.

...

Prayer had often been her source of comfort when she had nothing left to do but recite the Lord's Prayer over and over again in her mind as they taught her in church on Sunday mass.

She'd pray in the darkness when the howling winds of Kattegat would shake the foundations of the Ragnarsson's old cabin. She felt an emptiness that could not be filled, often muttering the familiar words to herself as she lay in her cot.

Usually no answers came, but it still made her feel even the smallest hints of warmth and safety, especially in her darkest times when she felt trapped and alone. So Artemis did exactly what Heahmund had suggested: She prayed.

She prayed with eyes tightly shut and hands clasped together, though she felt she didn't know exactly who she was praying to. Her mind focused on the familiar ways of worship, visualizing the paintings on the walls of the church that displayed the biblical stories one learned as a child.

But her focus wavered and her heart stung and ached. It told her what she had seen the day of the battle was real, and while the stinging and aching pulled her into the direction of something unfamiliar, the bishop tried to keep her grounded.

He had set up a makeshift crucifix made of old twigs, impaling it deep into the earth, located deep in the forest where no one but he and Artemis would know of. She visited the grounds that he consecrated less, and instead, found herself learning and exploring the ways and culture of the northern people, sinking in the knowledge of their beliefs that were as tightly rooted into the earth as an ancient tree.

Artemis knew what she'd seen. How could she deny the man with the bloody eye and his band of ravens? How could she deny the death of Lagertha's men and the death of Lagertha herself?

Sometimes she would envision the face of the dead queen, blue skin and empty eyes. At times it would keep her up into the late hours of night, when Ivar was fast asleep in a dream state. She wouldn't have done it, she wouldn't have had the courage, nor the strength to even think about ending a life, but it had come to her so easily in those moments, that it had to be divine intervention.

Weeks earlier Hvitserk had returned to her the golden cross and the silver hammer. They were placed neatly atop her wooden chest of clothes, shining like holy relics in the flickering candlelight.

Ivar would step into their shared chambers at night, finding Geirdis has long been dismissed. Artemis would sit at his desk, rubbing her thumb over the pendant of Mjölnir in an almost trance like state, while the golden cross lay abandon atop the old wood he had stabbed and carved with a knife one too many times in his youth.

"You ought to go visit the seer," He finally says to her one night, comfortably tucked in bed, "He may help you."

"Is he the man that reveals prophecies and futures?"

"Mhm."

"No." Artemis mutters into his side, her eyes fluttering close in her weariness.

"And why is that?" Ivar questions, placing a toned arm behind his head and settling into the furs, "Our marriage is in a week. I do not want you to run away because you are unsure of what you want."

She ponders his words for a moment. She'd never put into account that Ivar was worried as well. She had been so preoccupied in her own troubles of faith that she hadn't thought perhaps he was worried she'd leave him. When it was obvious she was distracted, Ivar brings his other hand to gently play with her hair, enjoying the little sighs that escaped her. After a few minutes, he brings a finger to playfully tap her temple.

"Your mind will be the death of you, baby bird."

"I'm not running away," She says suddenly, shifting her body to look at him. He had this look of uncertainty she'd never seen before.

"Go to the seer," He insists, "It may ease your mind, and mine." He mutters the last part.

"Very well." She huffs, placing the pendant in her hand beneath the mounds of pillows for another night of safe keeping.

"Good." Ivar murmurs tiredly. He gently pecks her cheek with drooping eyes, turning to blow out the flame of the candle beside him.

...

She stares at the hut before her, repulsed by its appearance. It was dirty, even from the outside. The wood was rotting away and the plants that weaved themselves between the planks of rotting wood were withering and dying.

It was not an inviting sight.

Heracles sniffed about her feet, curious of the smells surrounding them.

"I fear I will not like what he has to say." She says to herself, her beast staring up at her. Shen sighs in defeat, dropping her head with eyes closed.

The seer was well known around Kattegat, a most revered man, yet the most feared. He had a power beyond human understanding, blessed and cursed by his gods to a life servitude.

Artemis has heard of his kind before. In ancient Greece they were known as oracles, priestesses of Apollo with the divine power of prophecy and interpreting the future. Of course, in the Christian world, it was viewed as the devil's work, but pushing those thoughts aside, she takes a deep breath, wiping her clammy hands down her skirts.

"You stay here." She looks down at her large pup. He tilts his head, blinking at her. Leaving him with a pat, she enters into what she felt was like decending into hell.

She was met with a dark ambiance, the type of place any Christian would identify as a witches lair or perhaps the home of the devil himself. Seashells and dried herbs hung from the low ceiling and the smell of smoke and other things she could not identify invaded her nose. Candles were lit just enough to see the steps one took, and just enough for her to want to turn back. Before she could make that decision, a voice calls out to her.

"Why does the foreigner visit me?"

Artemis stops in her tracks. It was her first time she had heard his voice. It reminded her a bit of Heahmund, scratchy and breathy, almost painful for him to speak.

"Well?" The seer awaits her answer.

She slowly turns back, searching for the source of the voice. She finds him laying upon a bed of furs, his hands interlaced over his cloaked covered body.

She'd never forget such a face, void of emotion, sickly looking, with severe scars for eyes and soot colored lips. He was malformed, creature like, with spindly fingers and skin resembling the melting wax of the candles that surrounded him.

"I was told you have answers." Her voice sounded so small compared to his, eaten up by the small fire blazing under a cauldron bubbling with something that contributed to the unpleasant smell.

"I only see what the gods allow me to see, child." The seer moves, sitting up slowly. He extends a hand out with his palm open.

Artemis grimaces. This was the part she had not been looking forward to. Stepping over the scattered furs on the floor, she grasps his hand. She hesitated, lips hovering over the waxy skin before tentatively poking her tongue out to lick a stripe across his palm.

The seer takes his hand back, grunting in approval before speaking.

"What does the future queen wish to know?" She didn't know how to respond. It was strange to hear the title from someone else besides Ivar. She steps back slowly, plopping down upon the old fur rugs before answering.

"I wish to know of your gods," She starts hesitantly, "I was raised as a Christian-"

"I know of your twisting faith, child."

"-But I have seen your god." She continues.

"The All Father reveals himself to whom he wishes." Artemis frowns.

"But why?"

"It is not our right to question the will of the gods." Was all the seer said.

"I questioned everything since arriving to Kattegat," Artemis says, placing her hands on her knees and squeezing them in frustration, "What have I to do with them?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways, is that not what you Chrisitans believe about your God?"

"Yes, but-"

"The same principle applies here. The only problem is that you are afraid to accept what is real and what is not." She turns away from the ancient man, letting out an shuddering breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.

"But why me? I was just a slave-"

"You have the ability to see, yet you are blinded." He rasps out.

"Well then, what is it that you can tell me?" She bites out. The seer grunts out a bitter laugh at her impatience, his own wearing thin.

"A shadow looms over you, whether good or bad, I cannot see," Artemis swallows roughly, a lump lodging itself into the center of her throat. The seer let's out a tired and sickly breath before continuing.

"A child shall be born, the eye of the raven. Winter draws near and so will the enemy, lurking like a pack of wolves in the dark night. They wait for Sòl to set,"

The birth of a child? But Ivar is incapable-

Artemis remains quiet, interrupting her own thoughts. Her brows furrow and the deformed man immediately chuckles, as if reacting to her confusion.

"You will find hardship beside the crippled king, foreigner. Being his queen will not be easy."

"Then who am I to be his queen?" She responds quietly, her eyes reflecting the colors of the fire as she stares intensely into its flames.

"It has already been written," The seer replies, laying back down upon his scattered rugs, "The king has been touched by the gods despite what anyone thinks, and they have chosen you to be his partner. None of this is by chance. You have given him a heart, and for that, the All Father has given you his favor. Trust in the gods, and they will have trust in you."

"But what must I do?"

"Honor the gods, invoke the All Father, and you shall be blessed. Now, go and face your fate," The seer says to her, "Leave me to rest,"

Artemis's legs shook as she stood, glancing at the seer who heaved and coughed, his breathing hard and harsh. She gives him a nod of respect, knowing that despite his lack of vision, he would know.

"Foreigner," He rasps out to her before she could make it to the splintering door. She looks back at him, her eyes lingering on the black hood that hung over his deformed face. The corner of his dark lips lift up ever so slightly into an almost taunting smile before speaking.

"Lagertha may be dead, but her spirit lives on."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @ostra814 @leilabeaux @zumzum96​ @rastakami23

#ivarxofc #ivarfanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar #ivar fanfic #vikings #vikingsfanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #alex hogh fanfiction

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

Indulgence of Divinity: Chapter 3

Michael Langdon x OFC

Michael and Ms. Mead follow the Divinity deep below the Sanctuary proper after accepting a dinner invitation. The court's private rooms are unremarkable--with one enormous exception. The woman and Michael reach an understanding of sorts.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, bad-mouthing religion (maybe?)

Word Count: 3756

(Also posted on Ao3 under the same title.)

--------

Chapter Three: Into the Sanctum

“If you have the time, I would be honored if you could join me for dinner this evening.” She turned to smile at the older woman, her face once again stern and protective as she stepped to her king’s side. “Ms. Mead as well..."

Evening had descended throughout the halls, artificial though it may have been, when Michael and Ms. Mead found themselves in the presence of the “Divinity” once again. Head held high and hands clasped daintily in front of her, she moved with a grace and fluidity unexpected for someone that had been restricted from the rest of the Sanctuary. Once again, she was clothed in delicate white. It was much simpler than before; Michael caught himself musing on the swaths of white linen wrapping over her shoulder, around her waist, sweeping around, and the forest green cords crisscrossing over her abdomen. Quite the contrast to his elegant all-black ensemble of fitted pants, knee-high boots, and satin black dinner jacket with red velvet lapels and Ms. Mead’s usual onyx authoritarian pantsuit.

Murmurs followed in the wake of the trio. Sometimes she would cast the residents a polite smile and a nod that sent them off kilter. Who the hell was this bitch waltzing around like she owned the place? And wearing white in the presence of the Antichrist? How pretentious! Clearly, Michael hadn’t been the only one unaware of her existence within the Sanctuary. Again, the remarks were met with the gentle bowing of her lips and a knowing glance. The air around her simmered with restrained reprisal, something lurking just beneath the serene exterior. No wonder she’d been cordoned off from the others. She couldn’t help wondering if their treatment of her would be as callous had they been made aware of her purpose from the beginning. In hindsight, she would have taken the risk if it meant a chance for true socialization. Each couple or group they passed celebrating the holiday of love with lustful acts filled her throat with a suffocatingly bitter sensation.

Their strides carried them through the towering mahogany stacks of the library. Anything salvaged before the bombs fell was stored within the large interconnecting chambers and provided with the proper care and protection to ensure their survival. Whether it was for educational, historical, cultural, or entertainment, all texts deemed valuable in any fashion rested here for survivors to pluck and peruse. Glistening spines of newer volumes winked from the shelves in the candlelight and then faded from view as the three ventured further. The air grew thick with the musty organic smell of the immemorial collections. Tomes and documents of the most importance were sealed and accessible only with supervision for those that had received the lead historian’s permission.

A large relief carved into the farthest wall depicted a massive tree bearing various fruits. The sculpture was polished and otherwise devoid of embellishment with the exception of two areas. Each fruit depicted was inlaid with gems of their respective color. The focal point, however, was the great serpent woven through the branches and entwined around the thick trunk. Scales of ammolite covered the body in dark iridescence. Candle and firelight refracted within the individual shards to bring life to the inanimate; every flicker of flame gave breath to the creature and the illusion of the rigid body ever-winding around its arborescent host. A golden crown rested atop the serpent’s head and a gleaming cinnabar heart within the fangs poured red water into a fountain below the tree’s carved roots.

Michael watched as their guide reached forward to situate a circular ruby into the hollow depression of the serpent’s eye. The fountain ceased its flow momentarily, the sound of water diverting behind the wall, and propelled hidden mechanisms. One of the dark wood shelves retracted into the floor to reveal a staircase that descended further still into the depths of the Sanctuary. Flames ignited in the channels lining the stairs to provide light when the first footfalls landed on the top stair.

“I apologize for the theatrics. The court was adamant that our chambers not be something a resident could simply stumble upon,” the younger woman explained as she retrieved the red gem she had placed in the sculpture. The bookshelf returned to its original position after Ms. Mead passed through the threshold. Michael heard the patter of her steps quicken just a fraction to stand nearer, and he turned to offer her a slight nod of reassurance. He would never let harm befall her ever again.

The steps carried them deeper into the mountain and below the main construction. Portions of the walls next to the stairs had long been eroded, giving way to caverns of mineral pools and natural ornamentation of calcite draperies, flowstone, stalactites, and other formations. Michael found his eyes greedily drinking in the splendor that he hadn’t known lurked beneath feet since the very beginning. His preoccupation with ending the world had left little time for him to explore and appreciate the wonders below the surface.

“These caverns and passages have been here longer than any human construction above ground. It was part of what made it the perfect place to house the vestiges of humanity. Half of the work to create a habitable city had been done ages ago by nature. Of course, it needed some refinement and polishing to reach the exceptionally high standards of the world’s remaining elite. I preferred for our area to remain more natural.” Her fingers danced over the rough-hewn wall when it reappeared beside them.

A landing appeared around a slight curve illuminated with an inordinate amount of light. The air grew warmer with each step towards the rays streaming through the doorway until they reached the crest of another staircase. The sigh of annoyance was barely restrained when it passed Michael’s lips. The invitation had been one for dinner, not a hike into the bowels of the mountain. When they passed through the doorway, the gentle scuffling of his boots on the floor came to an abrupt halt and nearly caused Ms. Mead to walk directly into his frozen form.

Sensing that her charges were no longer at her heels, the woman turned and observed the slackened jaws and wide, darting eyes of the pair for whom she was quickly developing a fondness. There was almost a reverence to their expressions, and it filled her with gratitude and satisfaction. It showed on the widening smirk gracing her tranquil features. She was happy to let them admire her work for as long as they liked.

The tunnel opened up into a room of immeasurable size, and the elevation of the stairs provided an excellent vantage point. No palace ballroom, no exquisite cathedral, came to mind as an equal comparison. Even the Orangery of Versailles fell dismally short of the grandeur and expanse of the sanctum before their eyes. Towering column reliefs patterned the chiseled walls, and natural springs had been converted to focal water features that bled across the floor--the earth and soil--below in creeks and streams. The rest of the walls were tiled up to the vaulted ceiling in square, mercury glass mirrors. The reflections blurred the reality of a boundary existing within the room and added to the enormity of the space. Climbing vines of greenery and clustered purple flowers rooted into some cracks and crevices and dangled from the ceiling. An ornamental sculpture of a compass had been carved out of the domed ceiling and indicated the cardinal points.

Despite the low symphony of sounds and sights, their eyes were drawn to the burning orb casting light around the room as it sank towards a pond at the western edge. Ms. Mead was the first one to ask what they were both wondering. Almost.

“Is that…?”

“An affectionate imitation of it, yes. It’s hard to compress such a force to fit in this space, but it helps simulate natural growth cycles and circadian rhythms. I’ve been working more within biomes, and it’s helped with determining what areas of the sanctum can maintain which regions.” The younger woman tilted her head and extended a hand to indicate down the stairs. "I'd be happy to show you more if you'd like."

They reached ground level, below the oak and pine boughs, below the rainforest canopy, at the same moment a pale gray sphere rose from a small pool at the eastern wall. She grinned at the appearance of the lunar resonance and stopped next to the water.

“Perfect timing; I’m glad it rose early enough for you to see. The moon was much easier to create. I’ve been banned from creating fire, at least for the time being,” she turned with a slender finger pointed at Michael, “since that’s your job.” She was certainly looking forward to her restraints coming off now that they had been introduced and would soon be testing their abilities together. It was going to be spectacular if the atmospheric tension crackling between them was anything to go by.

Michael wasn’t quite sure what to make of things. For the moment, it was easy to believe that they were no longer underground. Trees stretched above their heads, branches curving around the pathways in verdant embrace, and birds and other small animals flitted along in interest. All of this...had been destroyed by the bombs and nuclear winter, yet here it was in an impossible place miles beneath a mountain. He craned his neck and nearly danced as he spun and twisted to view as much as possible, and he noticed the shifts in flora and fauna the farther their journey took them.

“Gargano used to be the last remaining area of ancient oak and beech forests left in Europe. Many of those trees here are from acorns and beech nuts I was able to salvage when we first came here years ago. It seemed a shame to lose something so beautiful because of the failure of humans.” She gingerly plucked an acorn from the ground and cradled Michael’s palm in her own to deposit the seed in his hand. Her hands gently closed his fingers around her, her fingertips trailing over his hand lightly when she pulled away.

“Repeat after me. ‘Cum mea vita, et vos vivetis.’” Michael did as she bade him and repeated the words softly. They echoed one another as they continued the chant, breath ghosting over each other’s cheeks when she stepped closer and covered his hand once more, and their gazes locked. Spindly roots wrapped around his wrist, snaked through his fingers, and a stem rose through the gap between. “With my life, you will live,” she finished, stepping away to let him observe his work.

Michael’s hand holding the seedling remained outstretched before him. Roots continued to curl along his skin as the stem grew further until two fragile leaves unfurled. Michael stared, eyes wide and glassy, at the vulnerable greenery in his grasp.

“How is this possible?” His voice was soft and bewildered. He’d burned away the souls of others with those very same hands. How could they also bring prosperity?

“While your powers may be unholy, their origin is still heavenly. Your father used to be the most favored of all angels, remember? He was never stripped of his power; it simply corrupted to fit the purposes he needed. All it needs is a little push to remember what it’s truly capable of doing.” She bent and scooped a small hole in the earth beside them. “Ms. Mead, would you mind carefully extracting that seedling and helping me plant it here?”

Ms. Mead looked to Michael for direction. There was a glimmer in her eyes that closely resembled fear. Was their plan to awaken the divine side of Michael’s powers and forsake their master? Would he forsake her? She swallowed thickly and glanced down at the woman kneeling in the dirt. Her Michael had done such wonderful things before, but never anything like this woman had enabled him. More than likely they had only just scratched the surface. Perhaps against her better judgement, Ms. Mead dismissed the doubts and began unwinding the delicate roots from around Michael’s fingers. The smile on his face was one she hadn’t seen in quite some time--one of excitement and delight, and for some reason it called to mind the warm smell of french toast. His eyes were sparkling with newly rekindled purpose.

Once the roots were free of Michael’s jeweled fingers, Ms. Mead stooped to place the seedling in its new home in the rich soil. The younger woman placed a clean hand gently, reassuringly, on Ms. Mead’s upper back until it was time to pack the earth to support the delicate sprout. Very briefly, the women’s hands both covered the dirt and they exchanged a small smile.

“Perfect. Thank you, Ms. Mead,” the younger of the two sighed contentedly. It was important to Michael that Ms. Mead felt included in his endeavors, and he extended his hands to help both women stand. He appreciated this stranger’s consideration where others would usually overlook his maternal figure. “You’re both welcome to visit the sanctum whenever you’d like, but I must ask that you refrain from bringing other guests. It’s better for them to think that their food comes from hydroponics and ingenious animal husbandry than...here.”

It felt like hours passed while they explored the eden. Woodland forests turned to lush foliage and bright flowers with humid air, arid sands grew resilient plants and faded to open water at one end while grasslands turned to frigid tundra at the other.

“How long have you been here?” Michael asked upon losing count of the different species of wildlife roaming around.

“The bombs fell almost two years ago, and you were planning for three years before that… I’ve been here for about five years, then.” Five years. Time had moved quickly while she was occupied with her studies. Now it was time for it all to come to fruition. “They moved me from the safehouse in New England to the Sanctuary here in Italy as soon as you made yourself known.”

They arrived at the far edge of the room and slipped through an archway to a dining hall. It was nowhere near as extravagant or embellished as the common rooms in the Sanctuary proper. The walls were unrefined and the same rough texture as the cavernous hidden stairway. The table was simple cherry wood surrounded by eight unimpressive matching chairs. One of the chairs was currently occupied. Michael tensed at the unexpected guest. He had been under the impression the three of them would be alone to converse leisurely.

“This is Aldair. You might recognize him from this morning. He is the High Priest in charge of my instruction in Neopaganism, which I’ve honestly found to be some of the most useful. The focus on nature has been very beneficial. He’s acting as my chaperone this evening.” The man stood to greet them, his wavy chestnut hair slipping into his olive eyes for a moment when he bowed, and he smiled brightly when turning to face his divine lady. His close cropped beard glinted in the dim light from the large fireplace and tall candelabras as he moved to pull out her chair.

She sat to Michael’s left so that Ms. Mead could remain at Michael’s right hand as he took the seat at the head of the table. Aldair made his way around to hold Ms. Mead’s chair out for her as well and gave her one last courteous bow when she was seated. The domes over their plates disappeared with a quick wave of the Divinity’s hand, and revealed lightly steaming fillets and baked vegetables in a sweet and savory glaze. There seemed to be an absence of meat on her plate, and a wider range of vegetables and grilled fruits took its place.

“I hope that you will find the meal to your liking. Everything is fresh from today. Please, enjoy yourselves, and feel free to ask anything you like. I’m sure you must have a lot of questions, and we can speak freely in front of Aldair. He’s considered a close friend.” She reached over and gently squeezed the high priest’s hand with an affectionate smile before returning to her meal. Michael’s shoulders immediately straightened at the display. Close friend? Discreetly, his icy eyes narrowed and he stared at the man with every intention of reaching into the deepest, most secluded corners of the man’s mind.

“Mmm, this is delicious,” Ms. Mead chimed after finishing a piece of the fillet and subsequently broke Michael’s concentration. “What is this?” The smirk that tugged at the other woman’s lips was nothing short of mischievous in conjunction with the gleam in her resin eyes.

“It’s venison,” she replied, and took a bite of her own food. Michael’s lips stretched tightly over his mouth in an attempt to hide his amusement at the slight cough from Ms. Mead. “I’m glad that you find it satisfying.”

“You said that you are open to any line of questioning?” Michael received a nod from the raven-haired woman on his left. “If you have been here for so long, and known who I am, why haven’t we been introduced? Santori gave his explanation. Now I want to know your truth.” She nodded again and politely wiped her mouth with her napkin. Michael’s eyes bore into hers with the same fire he’d used when conducting interviews months ago; however, he found her to be frustratingly unreadable as his glare unfocused.

“Honestly, I’ve been given the same reasoning as you. We needed time to develop our powers individually. You had a purpose to fulfil far sooner than I did, and they didn’t want to cause any distractions for you. Since the Apocalypse has begun, your abilities have grown tenfold. As you grow stronger, so do I. Now, the only way for us to increase our abilities is together.”

As you grow stronger, so do I. A surge of recognition forced him to genuinely focus his eyes on her and found her gaze already upon him. The same satisfied smirk graced her lips as it had this morning. The words, and the sensations they conjured within him, were more than familiar.

“Are you involved with the Cooperative?” Her smirk grew wider by a fraction.

“Yes. I receive all communications sent to and from the Cooperative. I also helped draft some of the Outpost Construction Plans, picked the location for and designed many areas of the Sanctuary, and worked with Research and Development on sustainability and resources.” So she’d been involved all along. He’s probably been in direct communication with her at some point and hadn’t even realized.

“You know Jeff and Mutt?”

“Oh yes,” she chuckled lightly at the mention of the coke-addled geniuses. “They’ve been working on something for me for a little while. I haven’t been in to see their progress lately, actually.” There was a brief moment of silence where her thoughts on the project took up her attention before she caught the others still waiting for further elaboration. “Of course, they don’t know who I am exactly. My credentials and my email are under a pseudonym, for obvious reasons.”

“You really do not have a name?” Michael crossed his arms and leaned against the table to watch for any flicker of emotion or tell for a lie. He was skeptical at best, and she could tell.

“I do not. My mother--she was a nun--was told not to name me, not to get too attached, because I was ‘a sin’.” She rolled her eyes as she made quotation marks with her fingers. “It’s amazing how people who call themselves believers seek to invalidate something genuine when it doesn’t fit exactly into their archetypes.” Michael hummed and smiled in reminiscence. He knew very well how those of a faith could quickly turn on their own when not precisely conforming to a given image. “I went from the convent straight into the care of my court. There was never much time spent with one person to charge with the task of naming.” Her indifference surprised him for a moment, though he supposed this had always been her reality and was simply considered normal. He leaned his chin on the back of his hand and let his gaze slide over her form.

“And so that responsibility falls to me.”

“You and I are expected to form a bond, so I suppose they decided it would be an ideal start to the bonding process if you chose.” Once again, there was the feeling of receiving a pet instead of a colleague or partner. Michael leaned back to swallow a mouthful of food and watched her push a forkful around on her plate.

“Are there any names that you like?” How was he supposed to choose a name for someone he didn’t even know? She smiled sadly and shook her head.

“Not really. I’ve never thought of names in that way since I knew it wouldn’t be my choice.” Michael frowned and titled his head to watch her. He had anticipated utilizing some of the “Cooperating” techniques when presented with the opportunity to seek his answers, and now the hardened façade he’d prepared was once again crumbling despite himself.

“It could be your choice. If you wanted it to be.” A slim hand reached across the table and clasped his loosely. He found that he had no interest in pulling away, and he rather enjoyed the gentle coolness and pulse of contentment she emitted.

“I appreciate that. I do. To be honest, I’m excited to see what you come up with. It would be quite special to receive my name from my king” She mimicked his inquisitive head tilt and squeezed his hand softly. “I trust you.” The words were nothing but the truth. Michael felt a sense of pride. And a sudden impending pressure to do right by this person that had granted him her trust. It felt like such a strange word after years of receiving worship. Was that considered any form of trust? His fingers inadvertently returned her gentle grasp.

“I believe it would be in both of our best interests to leave that for a time once we are more well acquainted. If we are truly to be equals, your name should be as meaningful as your purpose. Not something derived from impulse.”

She positively beamed. An unlikely someone was showing her respect and consideration, let alone acknowledgement of her role, that sometimes even her own procession lacked. Michael’s chest swelled in triumph at her pleased reaction. Compassion and flattery earned far greater rewards than hostility and impatience, after all, and that was something Michael knew all too well.

#Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #Michael Langdon x OC #American Horror Story Apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #Indulgence of Divinity #my fics #This is 90% description and I'm (almost) not sorry #I am sorry for any typos that I didn't catch in my rush to post

[raiseyourcups]

Cabur

Interlude

Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC (Aili Verdella) Warnings: none, just fluff and a slightly suggestive scene Word Count: 4.7k Also on AO3

Masterlist//Main Masterlist

Summary: Aili, Din, and Little Green make it to Oshriya in the hopes of finding out where the remainder of the Covert went. Thankfully the mayor owes Aili several favors.

Note: And so concludes Cabur in more ways than one. In case you missed the announcement on Chapter 24, I will not be posting the sequel story here on Tumblr at all. Rather it will only be posted to AO3, schedule to be decided at a later date. Thank you for sticking through to the end with me. 

Oshriya was just as tiny as Aili remembered it but it was somehow brighter. No one had to hide away their children or set a curfew when the sun went down. When the Razor Crest landed, no one was wary and when they saw Aili come down the gangway they were more than welcoming. Someone had run over to the mayor’s house to have him there to meet them when they were all off the ship. 

“You’re back and with a friend,” the mayor said when he met them at the bottom of the gangway. His gaze travelled over to the child in Aili’s arms and he looked up at the woman who had taken down an entire slavers ring not too long ago with barely concealed surprise. “A friend and a child.”

“Yeah, a friend,” Aili agreed awkwardly. It wasn’t like she and Din had actually put a name to what they were exactly. They probably should do that at some point. She didn’t comment on the mayor’s surprise at seeing Little Green. “We came to ask if you know where the Mandalorians that showed up went.”

The mayor paused for a moment too long, making both Aili and Din suspicious. “No, they were very quiet about it. Came to lay low for a week or two and then two young ladies asked about selling the ship,” he explained as he led them down through the market.

“And after that?” Aili asked, finally remembering the mayor’s name. Coming to Oshriya the first time around seemed like a lifetime ago but it might as well have been. Aili was clearly not the same person who had taken down the slavers and rescued several women and children, not with Din at her side and Little Green in her arms.

“Someone one town over bought the ship and then they had enough money to buy passage to any planet they wanted. May I ask what you want with them?” Mayor Nez questioned, his tone just a little too curious as he glanced at Aili and Din from the corner of his eyes. 

Suddenly the mayor’s hesitance made sense to Aili. If they were still there on the planet, he might think they were looking for them as a bounty despite Din obviously being a Mandalorian as well. “Four of them, including the two oldest girls, they’re my...sisters,” Aili said, wondering exactly what the girls were to her now that they had been named a clan of seven. And the Armorer naming her and Din as Little Green’s...parents made things more confusing. 

“But you’re not a Mandalorian, are you?” 

“No, that was by choice but they are part of his Covert,” Aili replied, nodding her head in Din’s direction.

“And they have been named part of our Clan,” Din added, hoping that would make it clearer to the mayor that they weren’t here to hunt down the Covert for a bounty. 

Mayor Nez’s gaze drifted to the symbol on the Mandalorian’s pauldron and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, I do recall two of them having the same Mudhorn sigil on their armor.”

“Wait, what?” Aili asked, confusion clear on her face with the way her brow was furrowed. 

“The sigil on your pauldron, it is a Mudhorn is it not?” Mayor Nez asked, he had been sure about the name of the creature and symbol. 

“It is,” Din answered slowly, his own brow furrowed in confusion beneath his helmet. 

Neither Aili or Din knew how the Armorer had known to give the Mudhorn sigil to the two girls. Din assumed that the younger ones might have a pendant like she had given Aili but that also didn't answer any questions. “Clans generally have the same sigil to mark them as a unit,” Din explained despite his shock. 

"So a Clan is like a family?”

"In a way, yes.” Din didn’t really feel like going into the details, least of all with an outsider like the mayor. It would be different if it was Aili asking but it wasn’t which made Din hesitant to answer any other questions. 

"Ah in that case, please use this house for as long as you'd like.”

Aili and Din were taken aback by the size of the house the mayor was gesturing for them to enter. It was the biggest one in the town by far and more than they needed for the three of them. 

“We can’t accept this, there’s only three of us and...well, we only need--” Din cut himself off, unsure if Aili would even be okay with sharing a single room now that they were planet-side. They had been sharing the cot recently, Little Green included in a makeshift hammock to give them some room. But they had come here straight from Nevarro and Aili had stubbornly refused to let Din so much as attempt to sleep in the cockpit while he was still healing from the siege. And Little Green refused to sleep without being able to see both of them in the same room now, the first time had clearly been a miracle only possible due to his exhaustion. 

“Please, it’s the least we could do. Now it’s quite obvious that you two need sleep,” the mayor gestured towards the home once more, still with a smile on his face that was doing nothing to ease Aili and Din’s suspicions. 

The lights were on in the front room but despite no one being there, it felt lived in which put Din and Aili on edge. Why would the mayor have told them to use a house that was clearly not empty without asking whoever owned the home for permission. They hadn’t been inside for very long when there was a quiet shuffling of feet coming their way, barely audible like they were trying to sneak up on them. 

Neither of them was really prepared to see a Mandalorian turn the corner, one hand hovering over their blaster holster nor were they prepared for said Mando to stop in their tracks at the sight of them. They all stared at each other for a long, silent moment until the smaller Mandalorian broke it. 

“Ori’vod?”

“Madsin?”

In the next moment, Aili had passed Little Green over to Din before she was rushing forward to pull the other girl into a hug that was quickly returned. Din watched in stunned silence as the pair started to laugh a little, the sound coming from Aili startling him. Sure she had laughed at him a few times but it had always been at his expense. This was a different laugh, relieved and happy at the same time. They separated and the girl, Madsin as Aili had called her, turned a little to call back to where she had come from. Din noticed that Aili quickly ran a hand across her eyes, wiping away a few stray tears and he was taken aback once more. 

“It’s safe, just some old friends,” Madsin said with a slight tilt of her helmet. Aili shoved at her shoulder a little even through the helmet she could still hear the teasing tone Madsin was using, travelling with Din had made it easier for her to pick up on it. There was the sound of several footsteps now, a few moving faster than others and then Aili was surrounded by four kids of differing heights. 

There were other foundlings, hesitant to move any closer despite Madsin making it obvious that they were safe but Din noticed a few look his way. He couldn’t stop himself from counting how many there were and he was relieved to see that they hadn’t lost any foundlings from the last count he had done before he had taken the bounty for Little Green. Heavier footsteps moved closer to Din and he couldn’t stop the annoyed yet relieved sigh at the sight of blue-painted armor. 

“Paz.”

“Din.”

They sized each other up for a long moment before Paz turned to stare at Aili who was still surrounded by her girls. The two youngest were chattering away about something and the other foundlings had moved a little closer as well. Din couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face seeing how excited Aili looked as she listened to what she was being told, he could tell she was just happy to see all four of her girls alive and well.

“I guess now I know which ones she claimed were hers,” Paz said, helmet cocked to the side.

Din had almost forgotten that Aili had commented on meeting Paz once before, back on Sorgan when she threatened to kill him just to make it back to Nevarro. “The Armorer named us a Clan,” he said, glancing over to see what Paz’s reaction would be. The larger Mandalorian had always been one of the more traditional members of the Covert. Staunch in his belief that non-Mandalorians were to be considered outsiders, worse if you became dar’manda.

“The way her oldest talks about her, she may as well be one of us and the Armorer’s decisions are final,” Paz finally said after a long silence. Din was surprised at how easily Paz was accepting Aili and he wondered if it was only because of the Armorer naming them a Clan. Rather than focusing on it for too long Din turned his attention back towards Aili and the other foundlings, a small smile crossing his face when he caught sight of the smallest of Aili’s had her arms wrapped around her still. 

The youngest of the foundlings chattered away for a few more minutes before there were several yawns that infected the group as a whole quickly. Aili let out a quiet laugh, “We should get some rest everyone.”

The other foundlings left the room quickly, heading for whichever rooms they had claimed as their own to get some sleep. Aili’s youngest two did not move while Madsin and the other one stood back to wait for them. “Will you be here in the morning?” The one with long braids, Din made a note to ask Aili for their names so he knew who was who aside from Madsin, asked. Aili let out a sigh, reaching over to run her hand over the top of the girl’s head.

“I’ll be here, promise and you know what I say about making promises,” Aili trailed off waiting for the younger girl to reply. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” the girl said before nodding, satisfied with Aili’s answer for the moment. She held her hand out for the youngest girl to take before she listened to Aili’s advice and they left for their own room. The only ones left in the front room now were Paz, Din, Aili, and Aili’s two oldest. 

“So what now?” Aili asked.

“Like you said, sleep. We can discuss everything in the morning,” Paz answered. He could tell that Din was barely staying on his own two feet and he had quickly handed the small, green...child over to Aili as soon as she was by his side again. “First door to the left upstairs is open.”

The slow way that Madsin’s helmet turned to look at Aili and Din let him know exactly what was probably going through her head. Aili met Madsin’s gaze and slowly shook her head, the expression on her face stopping the younger girl from saying anything. With a few quiet good nights, everyone headed for their respective rooms. Aili almost cried at the sight of an actual bed, once again thankful for the mayor being so generous. 

The two of them quietly stripped down to something more comfortable to sleep in, Aili having an easier time than Din who had to take off most of his armor minus the helmet. They settled onto the bed, Din sitting up against the headboard and Aili leaning up against him despite having a whole bed available to them. Little Green was between them in Aili’s arms and her last thought before she fell asleep was that they really needed to go back and get his pram back from Nevarro. 

*Run away to a place where you can breathe*

When morning came, Aili and Din woke up to a mostly unsurprising sight. Sometime in the night they had both slid down the headboard and were properly laying on the bed, and there were two more kids in the bed on Aili’s side. The youngest was flush against Aili’s side, arms wrapped around her midsection while the other was asleep beside her in the same position. Across the room in a chair that neither of them had noticed the previous night was the second oldest of Aili’s girls, wrapped up in a blanket, while Madsin had made a makeshift bed on the floor beside the actual bed. 

Aili and Din shared a glance with each other, letting out similar quiet laughs at the sight. Din was suddenly grateful that he had chosen to leave his flight suit on completely, only removing his armor for comfort and to give his still aching muscles a break. 

“They wouldn’t go to sleep in their room,” Madsin spoke from the ground, letting them know she was awake as well. “They missed you.”

“Only they missed me?” Aili asked teasingly.

“I’m not going to answer that while you’re not wearing any pants,” Madsin shot back. 

“It’s a hot planet, give her a break,” the one sitting in the chair spoke up. 

“Thank you, Sula.” 

“Of course it’s so hot I don’t know how you two were able to sleep that close,” Sula quipped, an obvious smile in her voice. Madsin let out a quiet groan from the floor, suddenly glad she couldn’t see the probably nauseating sight. The kids started to shift awake before Aili could make a comment to either of the oldest girls.

“‘M hungry,” the one closest to Aili mumbled, her arms wrapping around her a little tighter before she moved away to rub at her eyes. Little Green gave a quiet coo, looking up at Aili with wide eyes that said he was hungry too. She let out another quiet laugh and she hoped that there was enough food to make breakfast. 

Madsin pulled herself up from the floor and stood by the side of the bed, shaking the two younger girls awake. “Come on, let’s go get dressed and then we can have breakfast.”

It took several long moments full of quiet whining but eventually Din and Aili were alone with Little Green in their room. But they got dressed quickly, Din putting his armor back on despite the way his shoulder protested. Aili noticed the way he hesitated and made a mental note to make him sit still long enough for her to check it later. 

Breakfast was a quick affair, the remainder of the Covert having come into an easy rhythm when it came time for meals. It wasn’t much but it was more than some of them were used to. Madsin had saved a tray for Aili and Din, a separate plate for Little Green with smaller portions to make it easier for him to feed himself. Once breakfast was over all of the foundlings helped clean up before they looked up at Paz with excited expressions on their faces. He gave them a short nod and it was a stampede of little feet rushing to get outside to play. 

The only ones left inside were Aili’s girls who were waiting for Aili to be done so they could be properly introduced to Din. They also had to discuss the fact that they were considered a Clan now within the Covert. When Aili was done, the youngest two wasted no time in asking their questions. 

“So you’ve been with our beroya?”

“Are you our buir now?” The youngest directed towards Din with wide, innocent eyes. 

If Din had been eating, he would have choked on his food at the second question. From the look on Aili’s face she either didn’t know what the word meant or she wasn’t sure how to respond. When she glanced over at Din with a questioning look in her eyes, he knew the answer to his question. He looked back at the girls, sparing a glance towards the older two as well who were clearly waiting for an answer. 

“We’re aliit now,” he said slowly, hoping it wouldn’t be the wrong thing to say. They shared a glance before twin smiles appeared on their faces and they turned back to look up at Din. 

“I’m Shaeli, that’s Jaesa, is he aliit too?” She was looking at Little Green with a smile before she looked up at Aili and Din with an expectant look in her eyes. When they both nodded at her, her smile got even wider. “Can we take him out to play with the others? We’ll be careful, promise.”

“Go ahead,” Aili said before Din could say anything. She remembered his hesitance back on Sorgan when Winta had taken the kid out to play but they were safer now. She waited until they were outside to turn towards Madsin and Sula, raising an eyebrow at them both when they stayed quiet. 

“That’s Madsin and Sula, I’m sure you’ve figured that out though,” Aili said, gesturing to each girl so Din would know who was who. When no one said anything Aili rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed sigh. “I’m gonna go check on the others, can you attempt to act like human beings while I’m gone?”

She didn’t wait for any of them to say anything before she left the house to make sure Shaeli and Jaesa weren’t letting anyone play too rough with Little Green. The last thing they needed was for him to feel threatened and start choking someone like he had Cara. 

Madsin had yet to stop staring down Din. At least he assumed she was staring him down with the way her helmet hadn’t moved from his direction since they had been properly introduced. Sula was standing beside her, shoulders shaking which told Din that she was laughing at his misery. He really needed Aili to come back inside from checking on the youngest girls and Little Green who were playing outside with the other foundlings. 

When they had said that Oshriya was a safe place, they had meant it. What was left of the Covert didn’t have to hide in the shadows and Din knew he had Aili to thank for that. The foundlings were able to play outside in the sun being as loud as they wanted to be and with the other town children. 

“Madsin, stop staring, it’s rude,” Aili said as she walked back inside. She shook her head when she saw that neither of them had so much as moved an inch from where they had been when she went outside. 

“Really though, him?” Madsin asked, finally looking away from Din in order to turn her helmet towards Aili. 

“Yes and don’t give me that look.” Aili said, moving across the room to stand beside Din before he decided to just bolt from the room. The fact that he was intimidated by a girl half his age and several inches shorter than him was comical in her opinion. 

“I’m wearing a helmet, you can’t even see my face,” Madsin shot back but her tone let everyone in the room know that she had indeed been giving Aili a look from behind her helmet. 

Aili gave Madsin a look of her own, one that Din was getting all too familiar with as well. “And yet I know exactly what face you’re making at me.”

Madsin let out a loud scoff, shaking her head a little before she uncrossed her arms. “Fine, I guess it could have been worse.”

“It could have been Paz,” Sula suddenly laughed out, the sound carrying throughout the room. She knew her sister's feelings about the big, blue Mandalorian and they were not warm and fuzzy. 

“No.” 

“Absolutely not.”

Din and Madsin spoke at the same time causing Aili and Sula to let out short laughs. It was clear that the two of them would normally get along if not for Madsin’s protective sibling feelings despite Aili being so much older than her. 

"I do have a size limit, you know,” Aili said, jokingly. Din’s head turned to look at her so quick that it was amazing his helmet didn’t go flying off. 

"Why would you say that?" Madsin gagged at the thought of her sister and Paz. Even just the thought of Paz in that way was enough to almost make her sick to her stomach. She could barely stand being around the guy and everyday she hoped for more Mandalorians to show up so she wouldn’t be stuck with just him and Sula as the only other adults. 

"Okay I was talking about height. What were you thinking of?" Aili raised an eyebrow at Madsin although the smile playing at her lips let everyone in the room know that she had purposely worded it that way. The side glance she sent Din’s way when Madsin and Sula looked away with twin sighs along with the way her smile grew made him slowly shake his head at her. She had definitely not been talking about height at all. 

*Run away to a place without painful tears*

“You’re not still upset about the ship, are you?” Din asked as they settled in for bed again. After the earlier awkwardness between him and Madsin, they had sat down and talked about everything that had happened after the Covert had been exposed. Madsin and Sula had explained their reasoning for selling the ship which had made sense to Aili but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still a little peeved. 

Aili let out a sigh, “Just a little bit now. You would understand if you had ever been on it.”

“Tell me then.”

“Well for one, I had an actual bed and not a cramped cot. I mean I know I’m pretty flexible but Din...imagine a bed,” Aili said, not thinking about the bed they were in at the moment but remembering the one she had on her ship. It was silly, she knew that, but it had been the first thing that she had added to the ship once it was space-worthy. 

“We’re in a bed right now.” The way Din said it betrayed what he was hinting at and Aili let out a huff of laughter. 

“Nice try, Madsin just stopped glaring at you.”

“We’ve come to an...understanding.”

“Yes, I know, you both don’t like Paz,” Aili said, rolling her eyes despite the room being too dark for Din to see it. “Little Green is--”

“With Shaeli and Jaesa, remember?” Din interrupted before he carefully moved to hover over Aili, trailing kisses down her jawline. 

“You’re insatiable, you know that right? How did you manage all those months before the prison break?” Aili questioned, barely holding back from letting out a moan when Din focused on the spot where her neck and shoulder met. It may be a big house but it was also one where sound carried easily. The last thing they needed was for Madsin or worse, Shaeli or Jaesa to walk in on them. Sula would be the only one who would simply roll her eyes and walk back out without comment.

“It was torture,” Din answered, laying his forehead down against Aili’s shoulder.

“Oh?” 

“Do you know how often you walk around with half your flight suit tied around your waist?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Aili laughed out, making sure to keep her voice down still. 

“Have you seen yourself in just a tank top?” Din asked incredulously. He didn’t give Aili the chance to reply, continuing his earlier ministrations before moving further down, raising her sleep shirt up as he did. Keeping quiet was going to be a challenge for both of them now. 

In the morning, after making sure they both looked presentable which was harder for Aili than Din who had the benefit of his armor, they headed downstairs to meet up with everyone. Another conclusion they had reached the day before was that they needed to find more Mandalorians to join up with the Covert if the Armorer wasn’t going to join them any time soon. Din and Aili still had to look for Little Green’s kind and they couldn’t do that if they stayed on Oshriya with the girls. 

“But why are you leaving again?” Jaesa whined, her arms latched around Aili’s midsection. She hadn’t wanted to let go ever since Aili had told them that she and Din were going to have to leave. They had just gotten her back and now she was leaving again. 

“We need to find more Mandalorians,” Aili said gently, not even trying to get away from Jaesa’s grip on her. Shaeli was there as well, arms crossed and pouting in the way only a 7 year-old could when they were upset. Din and Aili along with Madsin and Sula had decided that it wouldn’t be wise to mention the fact that they had been tasked with finding Little Green’s kind to the youngest members of their Clan. 

“But why?”

“So your older sister doesn’t kill Paz,” Aili said, looking up at Madsin and sending a wink her way. Madsin responded with a shake of her helmet but she stayed quiet since Aili wasn’t wrong.

“Why can’t we go with you?” Shaeli asked, still pouting but now she had paired it with a small, angry glare.

“I told you, there’s not enough room for all of you. Trust me,” Aili made her voice sound overly dramatic like being on the Razor Crest was going to be horribly cramped. She wasn’t completely wrong after they had enjoyed so much space on Oshriya in the past couple of days. 

It took another ten minutes but Jaesa eventually let go of Aili and then she and Shaeli were walking over to Din with determined looks on their faces. “You better keep our buir safe and happy and, and--”

Din knelt down before the two girls and took one of each of their hands. “I promise to keep her safe and bring her back to you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, that’s what she always says,” Shaeli said, glancing back to Aili before looking at Din again. 

“Well this one I plan to keep,” Din said, staring straight into both of the girl’s eyes even if they couldn’t see it. They still seemed to understand how serious he was though as they narrowed their eyes in thought. Din took note that they looked just like Aili when they did that and he wondered just how much time they had spent together before the Armorer had sent Aili his way. 

“Okay,” Shaeli said after she shared a look with Jaesa. “You two can go but you have to visit.”

“We can do that,” Aili said with a smile. Even if Din tried to fight her on that one, she would win that argument every single time. She figured all she’d have to bring up is the bed they had shared, that was bound to work. “And we can always send holos to each other, just ask your sisters for permission first.”

It took another long moment for them to finally head for the Crest but soon they were loaded up onto the ship. Aili and Din didn’t know where to start looking at all so Din set their coordinates back for Nevarro so they could hopefully get Little Green’s pram back and maybe a small bounty or two just so they’d have some credits to work with. The galaxy’s worst may not be after them anymore but that didn’t mean they could keep travelling without credits. 

Before they left the planet’s atmo, Din noticed the way Aili’s grip on Little Green tightened as she looked back down towards the ground. He made a quick promise to himself and her that they would be back to visit the girls as often as they could. 

And then they were off into the galaxy, more than one mission on both of their minds.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x original character #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x oc