#slowly lowering the hackles

[everchased]

hahahahaaaa get safe and cared for, idiot

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #oc: finch #my turn to draw my tav being cute with his vampire bf heeheehee lalala my turn my turn #because i'm weak for a hug and tired bitches snuggling #and for astarion still being nervous about his boundaries being pushed #waiting for the shoe to drop but it never does #slowly lowering the hackles #because it keeps getting reenforced that. it might be okay #anyway i continue to be abnormal about this game bye #my art #bloodoath

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Love Drunk

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: You are a succubus, who is apparently really bad at their job. At least if your poor, nitpicking victim has anything to say about it.

A/N: Sorry for being horny on main, but here we are lol I've been writing a lot of little bits lately for a Twst OC of mine, and decided that hey, y'know what, might as well revamp some of the ones that are easily revamp-able into my usual reader-insert style and pump out some shenanigans rather than just letting them languish away in google docs. So here we be.

🌶️🌶️🌶️ WARNING for Spicy Content!

READ WHAT YOU LIKE, BUT BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU READ

“You’re late.”

The steam billowed as if with a sigh, and a familiar figure melted from the warm spray.

You blew a wet strand of hair out of your face with a noise that was nearly a raspberry. “I was busy.”

“I didn’t realize you had a life outside me,” Vil droned, only mostly serious. The little succubus seemed to pop out of the shadows at the slightest beckon, and even when you were gone, you always came back with nothing but talk of all the ways you’d worked to improve your craft since the last they spoke. And of your strange, card-faced friends, on occasion. But that was a topic you tended to hoard closely to your chest like a dragon to gold.

“Not everything revolves around you,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Vil leaned his head back to rinse the remainder of the conditioner from his hair. “Then maybe you shouldn’t act like my good opinion is the only thing keeping you employed, fed, and housed.”

You went warm in the ears, even under the heat of the steam, and crossed your arms petulantly over your chest. At least you’d been keen enough to not pop into his shower fully clothed this time. That had been a mess. You shifted back and forth on the balls of your feet with a grumpy, little huff and Vil didn’t bother to fight the way that his eyes followed the slowly rolling droplets of water that trailed lower with each fidget.   

“Whatever. I’m here now, aren’t I?” you grouched. “But anyways, what’s the plan for today? Out late again?”

“More all-day shoots,” he said, reaching up to replace one bottle of custom hair product for another. “And an interview to follow that’s meant to be a pre-recording for the morning programs tomorrow. So that could be close to midnight, depending on when we finish up.”

Your nose scrunched in sympathy. “Ew. I don’t get why you do all this stuff. It sounds like a nightmare. Human media is so strange.”

Maybe it was. But—

“It’s worth it,” he huffed, running one of his newer serums through the silky strands of his pale hair. He glanced down at you from beneath his dripping bangs. “Have you been using the conditioner I gave you?”

“Do you think there are functional showers in Hell?” you snipped, and then averted your gaze in chagrin. “I have been trying. I just—it’s not always an option all the time,” you said, a bit embarrassed.

“Come here,” he sighed, twirling his finger in a sign to show him her back, and you shifted closer obediently.

It was always so funny, he thought, as he reached out to scrub white bubbles into your mused hair. That you would spit and hiss, and throw such a tantrum over everything. But when it came to actually obeying his orders? You were always putting one foot in front of the other to meet him more than halfway. If he said ‘jump,’ you’d whine and complain but inevitably ask ‘how high.’ Like a loyal little stray that growled and raised its hackles but would come preening for food and attention at the first whistle.

“Sounds like a stressful day,” you hummed, arching into his fingers like a cat being stroked down its spine. “Are you still stuck working with that one guy you hate? Nigel, or whatever?”

“Neige,” he huffed, giving your hair a soft tug in rebuke. “And yes. The project hasn’t wrapped yet.”

“So a very stressful day,” you mused, tilted your head back to thump against his chest and stare up at him through the steady stream of water overhead. He watched the thin, feline-like, pupils of your eyes flash and widen into something round and dark. “This’ll be perfect then.”

“What?” he scoffed, as if he hadn’t just seen those pulsing, black pupils himself and felt something in his stomach tug. “That I’m stressed?”

“No,” you huffed, cheeks puffing out in irritation like he’d known they would. “Because I’ve been practicing.”

He arched a pointed brow and your cheeks went rounder yet. You stepped out of his hold and turned so the two of you were chest to chest. Vil let his hands fall to rest at the dip in your back and you pressed along him in one, lean line from toe to hip. Those strange, iridescent irises of yours flicked over his face, his lips, and those rabbit cheeks went hot with embarrassment. (“Humans kiss each other,” he’d said during one of their earliest meetings, when he’d leaned in with a smirk to brush his mouth against your temple and you’d nearly started seizing. “It’s what they do.” And you’d gone rattlingly indignant and started sputtering about impropriety of all things. All while you were sitting there butt naked and demanding he let you jerk him off so you could meet your weekly quota).

Your eyes dipped low beneath your lashes. And then you darted up quick to press a peck to his chin before immediately dropping to your knees. You leaned forward to nuzzle into the soft, blonde hairs tufted there and then dragged your tongue up the length of him in one, long lick. Vil fought a shiver.

“Practicing, huh?” he droned, affecting boredom as best he was able.

“Yes,” you replied, determined, and gave another lick. Shorter, this time. And more focused along the delicate, pink crown of him. “You made fun of me last time! Called it a ‘High Schooler’s First Blowjob!’ How could I not practice?”

“Oh? With who?” he scoffed, a bit more bitter jealousy seeping into the sneer than he would have liked.

Your face went scrunchy with embarrassment again and then you were sinking back down to run your tongue against the thick vein along the underside. Vil reached out to twine his fingers in your hair and you ducked forward to take him into your mouth.

“You’re lucky you caught me before I got out of the shower,” he said on a sigh, hips twitching when you gave a firmer suck. “This would hardly be worth dirtying myself all over again for—”

You pressed her tongue sharply into the little slit at the head and then dragged the muscle forward in a wide sweep—circling the whole of the most sensitive creases and then applying that same, lovely, suction all over again. Vil groaned, low and rumbling, and he could practically taste the bubbling excitement of your pride bursting along his lips.

You hummed—smug—intentionally loud and muzzy, so that it shot through the buzzing nerves in his skin like a symphony. Vil grit his teeth and dug his fingers into your hair to yank. Instead of popping off with an indignant whine and a trailing string of saliva, you narrowed your eyes at him and then dove forward—relaxing your throat and swallowing him down until your nose was pressed into his pubic bone. Vil cursed, head falling back against the tile wall with a punched-out moan and fingers twining shakily in the short hairs by the base of your skull.

“You have been practicing,” he mumbled, fighting the urge to go a bit cross-eyed when you swallowed around him.

You hummed in affirmation. It vibrated all the way from head to base and he shivered in time with it.

After too many long, long seconds of him nearly slipping down the wall with the curl of his toes, you popped off with a cough.

“I can hold my breath for ages now,” you declared proudly, a smear of milky white smudged along the corner of your lips. You leaned forward to prop your chin up against the jut of his hip bone and smirk up at him with a look that was a touch too genuinely excited to be truly impish. “Told you I could do it.”

“How foolish of me to have ever doubted your dedication,” he scoffed, still a bit too breathless for the sarcasm he was trying to spit. It nearly came out on a gasp and your grin grew wider. He sneered, a bit too harsh under his fluster, “What with your stalwart focus on never even touching the kits I’ve bought you. Let alone making any of the other bevy of improvements that I’ve been trying to put into place for weeks now.”

“Oh?” you droned, sharp. “Well, sorry to disappoint, Lord Vil. I guess I’ll just have to try harder.”

And then without preamble, you were swallowing him down all over again all the way to the root—nose brushing the soft, pale, hair there as you dutifully squeezed your throat and ran your tongue along the underside until he was practically seeing stars. You drove forward further, hands coming up to dig your nails into his thighs as you pushed yourself until you were trembling and pinpricks of sharp tears dotted your lashes. One of those hands shifted between his legs, and you reached out with careful fingers to twine around the delicate stones there and squeeze.

Vil curled forward and came with something that was nearly a shout, trembling and loose as he emptied himself down your throat. You swallowed around each pulse, sending zip after zip of oversensitive buzzing through his veins.

You pulled away with another round of coughing, looking positively debauched. You scrubbed some of the dripping water out of your eyes and then moved to swipe away the stray drops of sticky whiteness that had managed to escape your otherwise valiant efforts to drink him dry.

“Better?” you grinned, hair mused and cheeks wet and sore.

A quip rested on his tongue. Something about how you could not be, when there’d been nowhere to go but up? But the genuinely delighted look on your face, and the soft, hesitant, undercurrent of nervous tension underneath had him loosening his fingers from your hair to rub at one of the milky stains littering your chin.

“It was good,” he said. “Better than that, even. Well done.”

“Worth taking another shower for?” you beamed.

“Worth an entire morning’s routine,” he smiled, far too soft, and leaned down to press a long, wet, kiss to your lips when you went spluttery and shy.

.

.

“I can come by your trailer, if you want,” the succubus offered, as Vil busied himself with blotting a towel over your dripping hair.

“Oh?” he mused. “I thought you only needed to feed once a day.”

“Well, sure. But I mean for your stress relief,” you said on an indignant little puff, crossing your arms tight across your chest. You peeked up from beneath your lashes, cautious. “I mean, only if you’d want that sort of thing.”

He reached out to cup your cheeks and pinch. You whined under his prodding but didn’t swat him away.

Vil sighed, dramatic and put upon. “I suppose if you insist. How could I deny my most precious little protégé anything they ask, hmm?”

“Easily, if the past few weeks are anything to go by,” you sneered around his tugging. “And who’s ‘your protégé’?! I’m the succubus here!”

“Yes,” he drawled. “A succubus who’s needed me to teach them everything they know. What a fearsome creature, indeed.”

“I could fuck you to death,” you threatened, eyes flashing bright and eerie.

Vil pinched harder, until the skin under his fingers went nearly white, and you winced—those same, slitted eyes going a bit glassy and nervous. He leaned forward until his breath ghosted along your lips and he watched your throat bob in a gulp.

“I’d like to see you try.”

.

.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Succubus!Reader #Monster Mayhem Succubus Part 1 #SPICY CONTENT

[thatswhyilovetheghost]

Easy, girl.

Whumptober Day 1 : 'Swooning'. (No, I'm not posting day 1 on the 13th)

Captain John Price x f!Medic Reader

Summary: The Captain isn't impressed by his medic's tendency to overwork herself.

A.N. : Only mild whumpage in this one, fainting w/ hurt/comfort <3

The interrogative call of your name nearly makes you jump out of your skin, head crashing into the surface of the desk you were rifling through folders under. You hiss a curse between your teeth.

Turning around, you're met with the displeased face of the Captain of your assigned squad, firm hands resting on his hips as he glares down at you, brows furrowed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he starts, "but didn't your shift end about four hours ago now?"

Eyes widening, you raise your wrist to check the time, only to be met with a glaring 01:00.

"I- sorry, Captain, I was just sorting out some paperwork which-"

"Which can be done tomorrow," he interrupts, sending you a reproachful look that raises your hackles.

"It's fine," you snap, rising to your feet, arms now full of folders. "I've got it all under control, Captain."

The rapid movement makes your head swim. You stumble slightly and blink away the blur.

"Mm, looks like it," he snarks, concern underlying his tone.

His sarcasm only serves to make you prickle further. You huff, steadying yourself on your feet before making your way to a filing cabinet.

Or, attempting to at least. The increased motion sends your vision to a white flash that quickly fades to black nothingness. The last thing you feel before you pass out is a set of strong hands grasping at you, pulling you close.

When you wake it's with a gasp, as though you'd been drowning but pulled to safety. There's someone holding you, tight and close. You squirm at the restriction.

"Shh, easy - easy, girl. I've got you. You're alright."

The voice that hushes you is deep and rich, a slight familiar gruffness to it. Forcing your eyes open you find yourself looking straight into the piercing blues of Captain Price.

Captain Price, your Captain, whose lap you're currently settled on.

Price, who is sitting on the floor, legs crossed and back flat to the wall, must have scooped you up before you hit the ground and curled you into him while you were out.

Fuck, how long had he been holding you like this?

He lifts one hand from stabilising you at your hips to your jaw. Holding your chin up to get a good look, Price scans your face, scrutinising every blink and wince you make.

"Sir-" you rasp drily, feeling your face warm both in embarassment at fainting in front of your superior and at the situation it had left you in.

"There she is," he cooes, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on your skin. "You feel alright?"

You nod, hyperaware of his proximity.

"Y-yes sir, thank you," you manage.

"Good girl," he nearly sighs in return, eyes flicking over your face once more as though for his own reassurance. "Think you're ready to listen to me about gettin' some sleep now?"

Price chuckles under his breath as you turn away in embarassment, rubbing a broad palm up and down your thigh in teasing comfort.

Without another word, Price lifts you up like you weigh no more than a feather and shifts you into a bridal position in his arms as he rises to his feet.

You squeak lightly in surprise, and if Price notices you hiding your face in his tac-vest he doesn't mention it.

Slowly so as not to make you dizzy, your Captain carries you over to an empty cubicle in the medbay.

"Shh, there we are," he soothes, bending at the waist to lower you into the bed. There's a comfortable silence as Price pulls the blanket over your form, ensuring all of your limbs are tucked into its warmth. "How's our lovely medic s'posed to take care of us if there's no one looking after her, eh?"

You feel your heart pounding at your ribs at his words, wide eyes looking up at your Captain.

"Thank you, sir," you speak softly, suddenly finding yourself imagining what his lips might feel like against yours.

"Always, love," he whispers, dropping to press a kiss to your cheek before walking away. Price pulls the curtains to your bay closed, turning to take one last look at you before retreating to his own quarters.

When you wake up that next morning you aren't sure if you dreamed the softness from your Captain, but the look he gives you later when he comes in to check on you reassures your mind.

Your Captain had his eyes on you now, and the man was not known for giving up. If he had to take you to bed himself every night from then on, then so be it. He was sure you'd let him tire you out.

#whumptober 2023 #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Chapter 10[*]

A/N: sorry this is up so late—I forgot to proofread it :’)

Warnings: smut, blood play, tiny bit of implied somnophilia, the transitioning of human to demon is similar to very extreme pms-ing, monsterfucking, almost pwp 😋

Word Count: 3,454

-Part 9- -Part 11-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’re aching all over. Bone deep need burning in your blood.

Can taste him on your lips, rich and slightly spicy, the metallic aftertaste lingering beneath your tongue.

Muscle tightens as you groan, hackles raising with hunger, starvation weighing in your mind. Slitted pupils seek him out instantly—you could have located him with your eyes closed. Tongue flicks over your lips, claws scratching at the sheets as you roll into him, all lethal power and deadly grace. Swallow your desire, mind numbing to the fantasy of broad, calloused palms putting their heat over your skin.

A growl rumbles in your throat, raw and tender, as you paw at him, roughly pushing him over. Hisses as his wings catch beneath him, but you’ve already hooked your leg over him, straddling his lap. Talons graze the rough hide of his chest, fur dusting his lower abdomen in a suggestive trail.

His scent dims your mind, vision dulling as you’re pulled forward by hunger, nosing at his throat. Hazel eyes flick open, muscle turning rigid as newly formed fangs slide from your gums, stinging as they do so. Scratch over his throat, practically able to taste him already, listen to the pulse of his blood, how it becomes heavier now he’s aware of you.

Swallow thickly, trembling with need, halted by curiosity. Lips seal over a spot below his jaw, tongue lapping thickly over him, tasting his skin, drinking him down. Canines scrape to his shoulder—matching where your own mark lies. Snarl lowly, pulling away. Hazel pierces into you, and the craving triples. Having his attention on you…skin prickles.

Hips swirl atop his own, slick dampening the silky fur between you, already so eager to take him. Snarl again with impatience as he takes his time resurfacing from sleep, drags it out as he slowly raises those rough palms to your waist, holding you still.

“So eager,” he drawls, amusement gleaming in his steadily darkening gaze. Move to buck your hips, but the grip he has on you is like iron. A low buzzing sounds in your head, urging you to take him. Hiss with impatience, starvation burning in your lungs, craving him like stimulation. Lip pulls back from bloody canines, tongue already littered with small slices.

Frustration bubbles when he refuses to let you move, so you dip down. Teeth carve up his mouth, thick and rich liquid spilling across your tongue as his mouth opens, tongue flicking against your fangs for the stinging pleasure of pain. Hips buck over his own demandingly, rubbing over his arousal, groaning as a small part of your need is satiated. Though it’s nowhere near enough.

Snarl hungrily, crawling further up his body, straddling his middle. Claw-tipped fingers pin down his shoulders, your back aching slightly. Keeping him still as you swirl your hips over the powerful muscle, stomach ridged as you glide across the tough skin. A moan drags from your lips as thighs part wider, settling more heavily over him, sinking down—riding his middle. A strained laugh rumbles from his chest, nipples peaking at the sound, becoming breathless and flushed as he watches you.

“Look at you,” he growls, hand skimming up your side, spanning over your ribs. Thumb grazes your nipple, his other joining the play. Back arches, demanding more as you swirl your hips, clit gliding over the now sopping fur of his lower abdomen, shuffling back, working your way down to his cock. “So hungry, aren’t you?” He breathes, “finally understand the shit you’ve put me through.”

Lips part as you grind down on his cock—hard against his stomach—looking ready for you. A snarl rips from your throat, needing to sink your weight over his lap, bite into his skin, taste him as you reach your high. Blood in your mouth, cum in your heat. Salivate with desire. Stare down at the feast beneath you.

He groans roughly, understanding the look in your eyes. “Finally feeling a shred of the hell you forced me to endure,” he snarls, pupils dilating, pinching at your nipples. “Does it feel good?” He asks, hand dropping to your hips, raising you up so he can align himself. “Feel good to not get what you need? To not be able to touch something that’s yours?” His tip presses flush against the soft dip between your thighs, but goes no further.

Need pounds through your brain, demanding pleasure, right then and there. Writhe beneath he grip, shadows constraining and binding, dragging your arms behind your back, wrapping your forearms together. A pained snarl tears from your lungs, thrashing with rage, his tip just below you—ready to have you. Lip part; fangs flash, fury and blistering need murdering your mind.

Power ripples off you, talons piercing from your fingertips, tearing through his shadows. Claws hook over his shoulders, breaking free as you sink down, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Lips part in a silent moan, back arching as he completes you, cock touching those perfect spots that hadn’t even existed before. Breathing becomes heavier, cursing lowly as you roll over him, chest rising and falling as pleasure takes control.

Azriel hisses, caught off guard from the display of strength—unnatural strength. Growls roughly, lip curling back from his teeth with displeasure. He doesn’t like not being in absolute control, least of all in his own bed. Yet the moment your hips roll, calloused palms are gripping your waist, undeniable need stretching taut between you as the frenzy begins.

Beastly snarls and groans resound through the dim chamber, white sheets stained with red as you bind together, teeth and talons scraping viciously. The opening movements to a punishing symphony. Canines pierce your lip, arousal bleeding across his tongue as he slams you down atop him, hips smacking up against the backs of your thighs, control forcefully submitted to baser instincts: bite; feed; fuck.

Head tips back as you straighten, breathing heavily as you ride him, grinding against his cock, taking him as deep as your body will allow you to. Peer at him through dizzy eyes, the sweat gleaming on his chest, scars flecking his tough hide. How lovely it would be to add your own mark.

Azriel hardly has a chance to register what you’re doing before talons flash, slicing down his chest, their point dragging down his sternum, splitting skin to the base of his rib cage. Exquisite pain blossoms across his torso, blood erupting like a burst damn, spilling down; saturating the sheets. He roars with madness, fucking into you harder, twitching when you run your fingers through the swiftly healing wound. Hips stutter as your tongue flicks out over bloody digits, decadently raising them above your head, droplets splashing upon your tongue as you drink him down.

Blinding pleasure crashes across his skin, a gleaming thread finally snapping into place, glittering with tangible warmth—no longer muffled by your mortality. Hand snakes to the nape of your neck, dragging you down forcefully, teeth latching onto his chosen spot, piercing scar tissue, putting his pain deeper.

You clamp down on him, fluttering wildly as hips buck and stutter frenetically, following the innate instructions ingrained into your blood. Mouth parts in a ragged mix between a moan and a snarl, roaring out your possession. Claiming the male beneath you as your own, canines flashing with animal propriety.

It takes moments to rest, arousal burning at your skin, commanding movement, demanding pleasure.

He flips you over, giving your back a chance to rest as the great wings splay limply across the mattress. Thumbs hook over your front, fingers splaying at your back as he draws back only to slam in. Blood drips from the wound on his chest to splatter against your skin, your free hand raising to cup your breast, palming as he pounds into you, shadows encouraging that pleasurable arc of your spine.

It almost seems effortless on his part, the pleasure surging beneath your skin in response to his thrusts, lips parting wide as your head pushes back into the bed. Claws cut and scrape over the muscle of his back, talons slicing lightly at your collar bones as he holds you down. Snarl your need, his hips bucking sharply in punishment, mind dumbing as he sends you reeling. Wings flare in an open display of dominance, fucking you deeper into the mattress.

Canines stab at your lip, blood blossoming, trickling down your jaw. Hazel eyes latch on, dilating wide before leaning down, the rough flat of his tongue licking up to the puncture mark. Swallow thickly as you stare at one another, his hips slowing to a gentle lull, grinding between your thighs.

Growl in warning, breath mingling as your eyes narrow, hands fisting in his hair, forcefully crushing his mouth to your own. Lips part: soft, wet sounds being intimately exchanged, teeth catching and clinking with rushed laziness, carelessly encouraging the bloody mess between you. Bite his lower lip painfully, rolling your hips up sharply, commanding him to move.

He snarls lowly, hand moving to your throat to make clear who’s in control. Anger flickers in your chest, shadow smacking his claws away, legs wrapping tight around his hips. Tug him closer, cock driving deeper as you keep his mouth to your own, talons piercing the hide of his back, scratching dangerously close to the base of his wings, rippling with sensitivity.

A rough moan drags from your lungs, hooked claws digging beneath his skin, blood rupturing from his back as it pours from the wounds, trickling down his ribs to drip onto your chest. Your own darkness flickers, palming your breasts, thumbing across the peaks of your nipples—painting yourself in his colour.

Lips part as your high hits again, teeth flashing as you snarl, wings twitching on the bed as pleasure spins your world. Your release sets the bond ablaze, ecstasy gleaming across it as it blasts into the male above you, sending him into his own high. Hot cum fills you up, hips bucking against him, demanding more, needing him to empty every last drop of release into you, until the slightest movement will send his seed spilling out.

Pant heavily, trying to cool off but you can’t. There’s no time.

Already you’re aching all over again. Hungry. Starving.

Make to rise from the bed, but his palm presses against your sternum, shoving you roughly back into the mattress. Breathe heavily, relaxing beneath him, spreading your thighs wider in invitation.

Hazel flicks down, a muscle in his jaw ticking from how you’re squeezing him—like a taunt. Mocking him for his lack of action. Tongue slides over his lips, glaring down at you. “You should rest,” he manages, voice much thicker than usual. “Eat and sleep to ease the transition.”

You buck your hips in response, hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling it from your chest as you glide up to his shoulder. Arms lock at his neck, dragging him lower. “Then feed me,” you breathe, squeezing him tight.

His nostrils flare delicately, eyes glazed from your scent, taking in your arousal. Re-wets his lips, panting softly as he tries to keep a level head. But as always, you’re making it difficult. Plump lips inviting him to put his teeth into, nipples perky and in need of pinching, sex warm and wet—perfect for his cock.

Hands curl into fists, a growl building in his chest but he swallows it down, forcing himself away. You snarl, making to surge after him, raising up from his bed. Shadows lock over your shoulders, straining around your waist and forearms, pinning you down. “I said, you need to rest,” he growls, arms folding over his chest, glaring down at you.

Arousal burns beneath his skin, instincts latching onto the rise and fall of your chest, the milky gleam on your inner thighs, the intensity that you’re eyeing him with. The perfect fucking scene, and he has to walk away. Get some food. The transition’s always tougher on females, and you were weak enough beforehand. He doesn’t need any of that bleeding over into your eternal life because he couldn’t fucking keep it to himself.

He expects more resistance from you, considering how dominant you’d been minutes before—back still slightly stinging from your blades—yet you’ve settled into the sheets, watching him silently. Something brewing in your mind.

Nod your head to the door, pupils narrowing into slits. “I’ll be here, then,” you hiss, lips twisting into a self-deprecating smile. “Here to use when you feel like fucking something.”

Hairs raise at the nape of his neck, urging him to snap back, but that would be entertaining your mood, and he has no time to deal with this new insolence the transition has awoken. He’s sure a few more rounds will mellow you out. Have you in a more digestible form.

So he turns, leaving you shackled to his bed, shadows adorning him with clothes.

That unnerving gleam in your eyes haunting him long after he’s left the room.

————

It takes him minutes to steady himself for the scent that will hit him as soon as he steps inside, already threatening to bring him to his knees upon the threshold to his own chambers. Still, you need food, and he’s brought it. You just need to eat, then he can fuck you until you’re begging for rest.

Cock twitches in his leathers at the imagery. How he would remind you that he’d instructed you to rest, and you hadn’t listened. He wonders whether you’ll be tired enough by then to simply collapse, or whether you’ll protest. Fight back like he’s been aching to see you do.

Yet when he enters, every muscle in his body locks to prevent him from splattering the food on the walls.

You’ve coaxed your way out of his bindings, shifted onto your stomach, hips held aloft by two stacked pillows. Legs are parted, another cushion tucked comfily beneath your torso, clutched beneath crossed arms, head lulling peacefully atop it. Spine curves with entitled demand, shadows snaking up your thighs, building over your heat.

A hum purrs in your throat, darkness moving independent from his will, tracing up the knuckles of your back, a pleased sound breathing from your lips as shadows soothe the ridges of new wings—stroking their base, grazing to their peaks. He watches, frozen, as you shudder on his bed, hips grinding against darkness, rolling your hips. Watches as your lips part in a moan, pleasure having your muscles seizing, soft sounds of enjoyment rolling from your tongue.

Whine gently, rolling onto your back. Thigh parting as eyes lock, lips curving into a smug smile. Arousal bubbles beneath his skin, instinct roaring for him to dismiss the food, instead stalking forward to handle your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck you dumb.

Teeth prod your lower lip sultrily, peering at him as shadows draw away from your wet heat, strands of slick dripping onto the sheets, stringing between your thighs. Begging for him to attach his mouth to, bury his tongue in your cunt like you let him all that time ago. It feel like centuries. Worlds apart.

“You brought food,” you drawl, eyes greedily trailing down his chest, drinking in the obvious shape of his arousal. Frustration fritzes his brain as you have the audacity to lick your lips—openly taunting him. The urge to shift into a more beastly form hits him like a kick to the stomach, baser impulses turning feral in your presence. Unbearably urging him to slam into you, to fuck you until you’re full, abdomen inflated with his release.

Grits his teeth as he stalks forward, shadows carrying the platter to the edge of the circular mattress. Shadows hastily depart from your body, meekly returning to wreath him. You grin a little as they leave, as if sharing a secret that he’s excluded from. What the hell kind of transition consequence is this? He expected fatigue, and raised libido. Not this…heaven.

“You were supposed to be resting,” he grits out, arms folding over his chest, cutting an imposing figure as he looms at the far end of the mattress. Leg bends at the knee, hand cupping your breast. “I was resting,” you counter, smirking, “I hardly lifted a finger.”

Blood boils in his veins, half out of frustration—you should have been sleeping, replenishing your strength—and half out of arousal. “You’ve seemingly woken up with an attitude, wife,” he growls, lips twitching. Prowls forward onto the bed, arms caging you in as you settle primly upon the pillows—his pillows, marked with his scent. “We’ll get that fucked right out of you, won’t we?”

Legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking as you urge him toward you, feeling the heavy weight of his cock atop your heat, resting upon slick-coated skin. “You’re welcome to try,” you muse, clawed fingers grazing the muscle of his back, tracing over freshly healed skin. Teeth clasp your lip, as if you’re considering breaking it apart again, slicing into muscle just to revel in your power. He silently prays you will, aching to feel the sting of your pleasure. “But you reap what you sow, Azriel.”

The words don’t fully register in his mind as you put your talons into his flesh, hands fisting the sheets as gleaming pain blossoms across his back, wings shuddering as it lances through muscle. Groans as he drags his hips back, tip nudging at your entrance. Thighs tighten around him, pushing him forward as he slides in to the hilt—hips flush with your own.

Watches as he always does while enjoyment blooms across your features, contorting with the ecstasy he’s serving you. Finally allowing yourself to accept it instead of shying away from what you deserve. A purr rumbles in his chest at the blissed out expression, pulling upright to gently drag his thumb across your clit.

A shaky moan rewards his efforts, legs pulling him deeper. “Move,” you breathe, hands wrapping around his wrists, sliding up to his shoulders, revealing in the powerful muscle contained beneath his rich, warm skin. A growl tears from his throat at the order, surprised at how ready he is to obey. “So demanding,” he taunts, dragging back only to push back in.

Back curves upward, shadows flicking over your breasts, pinching at your nipples as one of his arms wraps beneath your back. One moment, you’re laying flat on his bed, and the next he has you splayed over his lap, flipped so you’re straddling his hips, pushing his cock deeper as you sink down.

His pupils expand, white of his eyes swallowed within pitch darkness, fangs protruding from his upper lip. Moan loudly as you clench around him, cock broadening beneath the tip, pressing against delicious spots that have you craving him. Hips buck and roll, urging him to move.

The rough callouses of his palm rasp against your throat, splaying over the toughened skin as he directs your gaze to his. “Move,” he taunts, grinning as you writhe, snarling viciously as he refuses to give what you both need. “Azriel,” you snarl, syllables ripping from your tongue.

He grips your jaw, holding you still as lips graze your own. “You wanted to laze there, on our bed, not lifting a finger?” He growls, arousal blurring his mind. “Then you’re going to sit there, and you’re going to fucking take it.” Hands grip your hips, claws biting as he raises you to his tip and slams you down, bucking sharply in to target the spot that will have you screaming.

Your body goes limp, defenceless even with all these new reparations instilled. He pounds up into you, abusing the spots that have tears blurring your vision. Reducing you to a helpless mess all over again, only able to cling onto him as he takes what he wants. Tears spill from your lashes as it’s snatched away. Fight back the only way you can by stabbing your claws into his back, ripping at muscle, scraping away at carefully cultivated power.

The high ripples across your skin, mouth parting as you bite into his shoulder, fangs piercing the tough hide as you reopen the wound you’d stamped earlier, torn between inflicting pain for what he’s done to you, and pleasure for what he is doing to you.

He may think you’re finally his—one of his kind now you’re slashing and biting like he’d inadvertently taught you to—but these claws are yours, and this magic thrums with restless need.

He doesn’t even understand the hell he’s released upon himself.

The world of chaos that’s been unleashed.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel acotar #demon!azriel #azriel smut #teeth and talons

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 17 (Threesome)

Kink: Threesome

Pairing: Incubus x Male!Reader x Succubus

Other Kinks: Praise Kink, Deepthroating, Cum Swallowing, Ass Eating

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1087 words

Kinktober Masterlist

Living with your partners came with many pros. Amaris was a spectacular good cook, and loved to make big meals for everyone to share. Martiz was very tidy, if a little overbearing about chores, but always keeps the apartment near spotless. Even if the bed could feel a little cramped with all 3 of you in it, it also meant you could snuggle in close, sleeping like kittens in a basket. All in all, getting this apartment together felt like a dream come true.

Especially right now.

“You look so cute right now.” Amaris purrs, thumb pressing down on your outstretched tongue. Even with your vision blurry, her playful smirk is clear as day. There's a brief flash of her camera as she coos some more. “This is definitely going in my favorites.”

“S-send it to me.” Martiz pants from the back, hands locked on your hips as he slowly stretches open your asshole. “I wanna see what he looks like.”

“I’ll put it in the shared album.” Amaris taps a couple times, then turns the phone around to show you. “Aren’t you adorable, babe?” She brushes her thumb across your bottom lip. You nod, choking out another moan as Martiz focuses on your prostate, balls slapping against your skin with each thrust.

Amaris smirks wide, sitting up and playing with the hem of her black panties. “How about we put that mouth to use, huh?” Amaris lays hackles, legs thrown up as she shuffles down her underwear. Martiz coos from behind.

“Yeah, eat that pussy, slut.” Martiz gives you a hard spank, no doubt leaving a palm shaped bruise on your ass.

You nod eagerly, Amaris shuffling forward to line her pussy lips with your mouth. Her calves get thrown over your shoulders and you quickly bury your face in her cunt. Thighs clenching around your ears, Amaris moans, languid and high-pitched.

“Tug on his hair, he likes that.” Martiz stutters, circling his hips so his cockhead plays with your prostate. Amaris quickly cards her fingers along your scalp, yanking you impossibly closer to her sex. With your tongue licking around her entrance, you move up to begin sucking in her clit, hands already clenched around the sheets below.

“Hmmm, good boy.” Amaris purrs, her slick juices running down your jaw. “Always know how to-” Amaris mews as you finally shove your tongue inside her hole, “-m-make me feel good.”

Your groans vibrate her pussy, making Amaris toss her head back. Precum drips down from your unattended cock, burning with a desire to be touched. Your sex demon partners must be influencing you, because even with a cock blowing your back out and tongue deep in pussy, you still need more.

“Gimme a kiss, babe.” Martiz pants, cock throbbing inside you. “Kiss me while I come in our boyfriend.”

Amaris just nods, keeping her thighs clenched around your head as she sits upward. The tight grip on your scalp keeps you in place at her sex, her breasts pressing against your forehead when she leans upward. Martiz chest presses against your back and you hear the sound of their sloppy kisses. Your two lovers pants above you, Amaris’ pussy walls gripping your tongue as Martiz hips stutter.

Their moans are suppressed by their kiss as they both cum, slick and semen exploding inside you and around your mouth as they both ride out the rest of their highs, canting their lower halves into you.

There's two pops as both of them detach, strings of cum connecting you from both ends. Amaris whispers sweet nothings in your ear as she sits back on her haunches, Martiz kissing a line down your spine. A manicured hand tilts your jaw upwards, looking at Amaris glowing eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby, we didn’t forget about you.”

Martiz makes their intentions clear first, circling his tongue around your stretched out ass, palming at your cheeks. You whimper in Amaris' grip, making her smile. She slides down to her stomach, then flips on her back and taps on your chest, indicating you to sit up on your elbows. As you do she shuffles underneath head first, eyeing your weeping cock.

Amaris wastes no time, deep throating your cock just as Martiz begins tongue fucking your hole. Your whole body shakes, lips bleeding as you bite into them. Amaris chuckles around your cock, tongue lathering the shaft as she sucks you down to your base. Knowing about her lack of a gag reflex, you begin humping down and into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat easily.

Martiz keeps a firm grip on your hips, but lets you throw them with your thrusts, just nuzzling his face deeper so he can play with your prostate.

The pleasure from all sides is the perfect kind of overwhelming, that tempting orgasm coming to a peak rather quickly. Precum gushes down your cock and paints the back of Amaris throat, which she gobbles up with fervor. It doesn’t help that the heady smell of her pussy, still sticky with her cum and your saliva, lies tantalizingly below your face. Normally this would be the perfect time to bury yourself in it again, but your mind feels so stretched you're not sure you could muster the technique.

Instead you bury your face into the fat of Amaris thigh, her soft skin perfect against yours, the taste of sweat easily on your tongue.

“I’m gonna cum!”

Both of your partners just nod, continuing their ministrations, pushing you to the edge. The knot pulls tighter and tighter, your whole lower half feeling numb, when Martiz begins fondling your balls.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel's back, orgasming exploding across your abdomen, cum filling Amaris throat. She keeps her lips wrapped tight around you as it does, not willing to waste a drop.

Both of your partners finally pull out after you're fully spent, cum promptly swallowed and your body falling into a pile on the bed.

You damn them for their unfair stamina, completely undone by one orgasm while they seem as composed as ever. They circle your body, Martiz at the front and Amaris at the back, rubbing massages into your sore muscles. Amaris kisses the back of your neck and Martiz kisses your forehead.

“You did amazing love.”

“You always do, dearest.” Amaris kisses your shoulder. “It’s like you were made for us.”

“T-thanks.” You’re able to muster a single word, sleep tempting you with every breath. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, dear.”

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #monster romance #male reader insert #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #succubi #incubus

[divine-misfortune]

Kinktober, day 4. Temperature play.

Pairing: Mist/Dewdrop

Words: 1,363

Contains: Light body worship, being weird about spit, being weird about gills, gill fingering

Summary: Dew finally allows Mist to see him post elemental transition.

Read on Ao3

“Oh droplet…” 

Dew searched the water ghoulette’s face desperately. What for? He didn’t know, most likely disgust. Maybe disappointment with a dash of pity. Her silver eyes wandered the once familiar plane of his torso slowly, expression soft and borderline unreadable. He bit his lower lip and fixed his attention to her vanity on the far side of the room, trying not to shrink into himself. He’d never shied away from Mist before, he didn’t want to start. 

But her silence was this close to gutting him. 

Without warning, the icy tips of her fingers brushed the jagged scars on his ribs and he nearly threw himself off the bed from the surprise alone. He, regrettably, yipped and promptly hissed at her. 

“That got you back to me, don’t go wandering off in your head guppy, I can’t follow you there.” 

“Sorry…This is still weird for me.” His hackles lowered slowly and he rubbed the side of his neck, feeling the difference of skin and scar tissue under his palm. “Also you’re really fucking cold.” 

“No, you’re just really fucking warm.” Mist laughed and held out a hand, “it’s certainly different.” 

He breathed a laugh and allowed her to pull him further onto the bed, only grimacing a little from the cold squeeze of her fingers between his. Even if it was different, even if he was different, they still moved together easily. Seamless currents. She straddled his hips and he let her push the shirt from his shoulders, humming thoughtfully as her nails drag lightly along his arms. Noting the places his fins used to sit and how the skin is darkened by some sort of infernal ash with a little nod to herself. 

She was studying him, relearning the body she’d spent years exploring. It was still her Dewdrop, even if elementally he was a stranger. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, you go and prove me wrong…You know I hate being wrong, droplet.” 

Dew let himself be pushed back into the pillows with only a hint of protest. He couldn’t truly deny her if he tried, and she knew that, just from the way those orange eyes stared up at her. 

“Hi,” he whispered when she’d finally stopped moving, reverting back to staring at him once again.

“Hi baby.” Mist pet her thumb over his cheek, “you blush a lot easier now. I think I like it.” 

“You don’t have to just keep looking at me y’know.” 

“I don’t?” She tipped her head curiously and splayed a hand on his belly, flashing her teeth gleefully when his muscles jumped under her touch. She drifted north, watching his skin prickle and his body tense. “Maybe I want to.” 

“Mist” Dew groaned and tried to readjust himself, subtly shifting his hips upwards to meet hers. “C’mon I just went through something fucking traumatic, can’t you hold off on teasing me till next time?” 

“Are…Are you trying to guilt me into fucking you faster?” Mist snorted, brow quirking upwards. 

“I’d never!” He gasped and turned his nose up at her for a moment before looking at her from the corner of his eye, “...Is it working though?”  

“Just this once, I’ll let you have this, yes it’s working.” 

The water ghoulette tugged her own shirt off and tossed it across the room with an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Dew didn’t seem bothered by it. He looked like an excited puppy for all it was worth, maybe the fire ghoul had softened her up a bit. Not that she’d ever tell him that, he’d never shut up about it. Instead of stroking his ego any, she laid herself flat to his chest and kissed him. 

A peck at first, one he chased like she’d never come back if he let her go. His hand came to the back of her neck to draw her back, quick to nip at her lower lip and lick the little surprised sound from her mouth. Even his taste had changed. Spiced with cinnamon but kept sweet by sugar. It made her dizzy like a lungful of secondhand smoke, but she kept dipping in for another taste. She needed to commit it to memory.

He fumbled with the button on her pants for longer than she really should have let him, his hand on the back of her neck grew warmer with his frustration. Almost unbearably hot. She smacked his hand away before he burned through her favorite jeans. Pausing long enough to shed the last of their clothes was too long for him apparently, he whined her name sadly when he settled back onto the bed and she wasn’t immediately on top of him. Some things never change at least. 

Mist moved up the mattress from the foot of the bed, stalking on her hands and knees with the same dangerously fluid movements of a jaguar. He swallowed thickly as she poised herself over him, it was only in moments like this did he seem to remember he was swimming with a shark. As if to prove the point she grinned, all teeth, as she settled back into her previous position. 

Without clothes in the way, she could feel just how truly hot Dew ran. He put off heat like a furnace, nowhere more it seemed than where their bodies met. Mist rolled her hips curiously, his cock trapped between his belly and her bare cunt, Dew choked. He gasped and tried to clap a hand over his mouth.

“You’re more sensitive than you used to be.” She repeated the motion, eyes fluttering as the little ridge at the tip caught against her clit. “Do you even think you’ll manage more than a few little rolls of my hips before cumming if I let you inside?” The question, mean in nature, was asked in the same soft loving voice she’d always saved for him. “I cum first, or your orgasm gets ruined, you know the rules. 

“I-I can, please just sit on it Mist, I missed you.” 

Sighing with barely restrained fondness, she rocked forward onto her knees and granted him the tight embrace of her body. She was wet enough he slid in easily, not that Dew took much preparation to fit, she still hissed through her teeth as he opened her up. Between the stretch and the warmth radiating inside her, her head was spinning. He reached for her and she was helpless to oblige his whims. A kiss at the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and the fire ghoul hid against the crook of her neck. His lips brushed the space just above her gills but his sigh was what truly made her moan. 

“Fuck, guppy, be a good boy…”

Dew trilled happily. Flicked his tongue over the little frill that poked out before licking a broad stripe across the two highest. She shuddered, his mouth was molten but his spit kept her fins warm in between every overconfident motion of his tongue. He dipped into the middle slit and swiped up before retreating, only to repeat it on the next unviolated gill. 

Mist groaned low and let him switch to pay the same attention to the other side. He made it sloppy, she could feel his drool dripping from where it collected in her gills, and it trickled down her collar. Flooded by him now, every ragged inhale she took was essentially drinking him in. His newfound sweetness, the faintly smoky taste, it felt like Dew was everywhere.

“Shit!” The water ghoulette almost wailed as he grabbed at her wrist and dragged her palm flush to the unoccupied side of her own neck. Icy needles cut through the pleasant warmth she’d been sinking into. 

Her body clenched desperately, involuntarily, around him.

“It’s a lot, huh?” Dew asked, smug. If her spine didn't feel like jelly she’d have sat up to glare at him. “Ifrit used to spit in my gills and have me finger them, the temperature difference drove me fucking mad.”

“And it’s about to drive me fucking mad, seven hells-” Her thighs shook, white hot pleasure trapped beneath the chill of her fingers. “I…Do it again, firefly.”

#writing #spicy tag #void writing #mist ghoulette #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #nameless ghouls #mist/dewdrop #dewdrop/mist #the band ghost #ghost the band #kinktober 2023 #ghostober

[writeforfandoms]

Warrior Song 6

Find the series masterlist

This chapter is like 10% plot and 90% fluff. That's it. But that's all this entire story is so this is on brand.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

You saw John at least briefly every day for the next three days. He brought you coffee one morning, and pulled you away from medbay to make sure you ate lunch.

And then his big trick was on the third day. He caught you right at the end of your shift at medbay. 

“Come with me,” he rumbled, looking down at you, shoulders very straight.

Well, that was a bit foreboding. “Okay,” you agreed slowly, stepping up next to him and allowing him to lead the way. “Although I’m pretty sure as a civilian I can’t get court martialed.” 

“What?” He looked down at you again, the frown clear in his voice. 

“Just joking. You look so serious.” 

John huffed his version of a laugh but didn’t say anything else. Instead he took you to HQ, and motioned you to enter first. Shooting him one last wary look, you did. 

The rest of Blue Team, Fernando, and the three highest ranking officers all waited there. You paused, alarm bells going off in your brain, before a subtle nudge to your back got you moving again. 

“This is all of them, Chief?”

“Yes, sir.” He stopped next to you, more or less boxing you in between himself and Fernando. 

The CO sighed but nodded. “Very well. I understand most of your choices.” His gaze lingered on you, doubt clear. You almost got your hackles up, but Chief intervened.

“She’s a knowledgeable medic who is uniquely equipped to handle potential needs in the field. She’s taught the techs everything needed to continue the operation of base.” Chief didn’t look at you at all, attention focused on the CO. 

Who merely stood quietly for nearly a full minute (you counted) before nodding. “Very well, agreed. You’ll provide updates when you have them.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Get whatever you need, I expect you all to head out in the morning. Dismissed.”

Chief left first, and Fernando ushered you out ahead of him. You held your tongue for the moment, knowing better than to question what the hell was going on while in the CO’s office. 

So you waited until you were outside.

“What the hell is going on?” you hissed, looking between Fernando and Chief. 

“We’ve been reassigned,” Chief answered, not even slowing down as he walked towards the Pelican. “We are to find out more about this installation and what makes it different.” He paused for a moment. “We are also to eradicate any Banished we come across while investigating.” 

“Okay,” you said slowly, stopping outside the Pelican and watching as Blue Team all started to move crates inside. “So why am I here?”

“Chief.” Fernando sounded disapproving, putting his hands on his hips. “You didn’t ask her?” 

“Nope,” Joy piped up. “Not even close.”

“Someone better explain soon or I’ll start shouting,” you threatened, glowering. 

Chief stopped in front of you, blocking out the rest of the world and speaking quietly. “You are a valuable asset, and would be a help in the field,” he said, lowering his voice further. “I believe you’d enjoy the experience.”

You eyed him, trying to figure out if that’s all it was. “There are other medics,” you said slowly, testing. 

“I don’t trust them.” He held very still, watching you.

And it only took you a moment before warmth bloomed in your chest. “Oh.” You smiled up at him. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“You’ll come?” He sounded just as cautious as you had moments ago, testing.

“I will. Oh, wait, I need to grab things! You should have given me more warning, now I’ll have to do this the hard way. I’ll be back!” You dashed away, already going through what you could bring from the medical supplies and what you’d need to grab. 

And damn it all if you weren’t going to bring a few little comforts for people, too. If anyone deserved them, it was that group. 

It took longer than you wanted to admit to get everything, but you did it. One crate was your contribution to the contents of the Pelican, with a basket balanced on top with a few things you needed. 

“What did you find?” Joy asked from Chief’s helmet. A moment later he turned to look, holding out his hand so the little hologram of the AI could form over his palm.

“A few necessities, some medical things, extra clothes, bandages. Things like that.” Still, you couldn’t quite keep the hint of pride out of your voice. 

“Sounds like you did a lot!” Joy smiled at you. 

“I did pretty well.” But your smile was still satisfied. “I suppose I should try to get some sleep.”

“We’re leaving bright and early,” Joy told you. “So don’t be late!”

“I won’t,” you promised. “Night.” You nodded to her and to John and headed back to your room. 

This would be the last time for a little while that you had real privacy, after all. 

It was with a bittersweet sort of excitement that you left your room that morning, your tablet in hand, a few last-minute gifts from Carter and Lindsay in a cloth bag. 

The Pelican was oddly quiet, but then, everything had been packed up yesterday. The Spartans had wasted no time in making ready. So you took a few moments to just look. The Pelican was definitely scuffed up, but reliable. Much as it pained you to admit. 

Someone came up behind you and stopped next to you. Green armor in the corner of your eye had you relaxing. 

“Ready?” John asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” You shrugged. 

John nodded, and a moment later his hand covered yours, the undersuit warm and a little rough against your skin. “Thank you. For coming.” 

You looked up at him, briefly wishing you could actually see his face, especially with your own so vulnerable. Then you smiled, just a little. “For you? Of course I’d come.” 

He nodded once, slowly. “We’ll be leaving shortly.” He didn’t release your hand for another moment, though, sending your pulse fluttering. 

And then he was gone, to get the others or do his own last-minute prep, or whatever. You made yourself comfortable on the Pelican, as much as you could anyway. 

Fernando nodded to you as he headed up to the pilot’s seat, and Blue Team settled on the craft as well. You closed your eyes as you felt the ship lift up off the ground. A moment later there was a big hand on your shoulder, helping hold you steady. 

“It’s not long to the first base,” Joy said, and you weren’t sure if she was talking to you or to Blue Team.

“What exactly are you looking for?” You didn’t open your eyes yet, but you definitely felt better this time. 

“Well…” Joy trailed off, and you did open your eyes then to find her hologram looking up at Chief.

“She’s involved now,” Chief said, low and almost relaxed. “You can tell her.”

Joy turned back to you with a smile. “We’re looking for evidence of what the Endless are! The Harbinger kept talking about them, but we don’t know yet what she meant.” 

You blinked, very thoroughly confused. “Uh. I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more than that.”

“What do you know?” Joy tilted her head to the side.

“We’re on a ring in the middle of nowhere,” you drawled, dry as dust. “Stuck here without any functional slipspace drives. The Banished had control, but don’t seem to anymore. I assume that would be the work of you three.”

“That’s right!” Joy shrugged. “While we were fighting the Banished, we met the Harbinger. She wasn’t Banished, but something else. And she told us about the coming of the Endless.”

“So, probably a bad thing,” you guessed, leaning into John’s hand on your shoulder as the Pelican swayed. 

“Probably!” Joy agreed, far too chipper for the subject at hand. 

You snorted quietly. “Sounds fun,” you drawled. “Just don’t expect me to shoot anything.” 

“Don’t worry, he’s really good at that.” Joy jerked her thumb at Chief, and you couldn’t help but laugh quietly. 

“So I’ve heard.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get a chance to see for yourself.” Joy shrugged. “We’re almost there.”

You lifted your head, surprised. That had been faster than you thought, and smoother. Either the distraction from Joy worked, or Fernando was actually normally a good pilot when not having to avoid obstacles. 

“Coming up on the LZ, Chief,” Fernando called back. “All quiet here.”

“Copy.” With one last gentle squeeze to your shoulder, John let go and moved to the back of the Pelican. The other three Spartans rose to join him as the ramp lowered. 

They left quietly, without fanfare, weapons on their backs. You crept over to the edge of the ramp to just look, quietly awed at the beauty of this place, as well as the visible Forerunner technology. It was daunting but also intriguing. 

You’d always been too curious, even as a child. It was something you hadn’t grown out of. 

“Hey, Fernando?” You turned to look when you heard the pilot approach. “What do you know about the Endless?” 

He looked around before he flopped down to sit on the floor of the Pelican. “Better get comfy,” he warned you. 

Time passed faster than you would have guessed, the two of you going back and forth on ideas about who or what the Endless might be, where it might be, and why this Halo was different. Neither of you were experts, of course, so the discussion did devolve into increasingly outlandish theories. 

But it did keep the two of you busy through the day while Blue Team was gone. Fernando started showing you how to do maintenance on the Pelican, too. An exchange, he claimed, for teaching him about plants. 

You doubted you’d ever have cause to use this information, but you obediently paid attention and followed along with the lesson. 

The two of you were bent over some wiring under a front panel when the COM crackled to life. 

“Echo-216, we are en route to LZ.”

“Copy that, Chief. LZ still quiet.” 

“Copy.” 

You raised an eyebrow at Fernando. “All business, huh?” 

Fernando shrugged. “Sometimes he banters. Usually after he’s shot a bunch of things.”

“Must’ve been quiet, then,” you said, nodding sagely. “Boring.”

“He’ll be insufferable,” Fernando agreed, beard twitching with his grin.

“You are still on open COMs.” 

The deadpan drawl made you and Fernando both freeze, looking at each other with wide eyes. Then you cleared your throat. 

“Well, someone has to keep you entertained,” you managed. Fernando clamped his lips together to attempt not to laugh. “Left up to you, I bet it’s just a silent march back, no fun at all.”

There was a soft sigh, and what sounded like a muffled snicker. 

“Cut the chatter,” Chief ordered, though he sounded amused himself. 

This time, Fernando reached up to slap the button himself to turn off COMs. You were too busy cackling to pay attention. 

“No wonder he wanted you along,” Fernando muttered, still grinning like a loon. “You sass him.”

“Yup.” You grinned, leaning back. “Look, he’s got more than enough people that are just in awe around him and don’t treat him like a real person. I figure if sassing him makes him feel more human, I am more than happy to help.” 

“You’re also just sassy in general,” Fernando pointed out.

“That too,” you agreed easily. Standing, you stretched out your back with a low groan. “I need to stretch my legs.”

Fernando lifted a hand to show he heard, already working on putting the panel back on. So you left the Pelican, taking a little walk around. This part of the ring was pretty, with waving grasses and trees in the distance. It was still odd to look up and see the rest of the Halo in the sky. 

You heard them before you saw them, the heavy armor making them more audible as they approached. You turned briefly to wave to them before you turned away again, looking out at the view. A little stream burbled its way through the grass, soothing and simple. 

“How did things go?” you asked, feeling the ground shake a little under your feet as John approached. And you knew it would be John - the others had no reason to come talk to you. 

“Fine. Quiet.” He stopped next to you. 

“Get any leads?” You looked over at him, leaning a little closer. 

“Affirmative.” 

You huffed softly. “We leaving immediately, or in the morning?” 

That made him pause, and he looked down at you before looking over at the Pelican. The rest of the team were checking their weapons and gear. 

“We’ll leave in the morning,” John decided. “Have you eaten?” 

“I should be asking you that,” you grumbled, though you smiled up at him. “I’m sure the answer is no since you were in a potential combat zone. You lot are in charge of plates and utensils, I’ll whip something up. We have a few fresh things we need to use up first, anyway.” 

He nodded but didn’t move just yet, so you waited. His hand raised slowly, bypassing your shoulder this time to cup your cheek delicately. Your breath caught in your chest at the tender gesture and you leaned into the contact. For a moment you wondered about doing more, about leaning up closer, about putting your hand over his and leading him somewhere–

And then his helmet dipped, shoulders hunching as he leaned down to press the helmet very gently to your forehead. 

Without a word, he straightened and walked back to the Pelican, leaving you with butterflies in your stomach and a ridiculous smile on your face.

#warrior song #john-117 x reader #master chief x reader #f!reader

[busycloudy]

AAAAA CONGRATS ON 200 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂

You deserve it!! I'm so happy your getting the recognition you deserve!!!

If I may place an order lol! Could I please have, a coffee, with tiramisu and a cobra on the side? Thank you so much! I hope you have a lovely rest of your day!

Coffee(Fluff), Tiramisu(Getting sick), Cobra Lollipop(Jamil Viper)

A/N: Thanks for the congrats Faye!!! I'm quite happy myself! I never really thought I would be noticed much or get to 200 this quickly! Well, I hope you enjoy!

Cobra Taking Care Of You

You coughed and coughed, hackled and hackled. You're throat was burning. It felt like a fire was in it. You suddenly sneezed. "Alright, I've got the thermometer..." Jamil walked towards you, putting tissues on your nightstand.

Jamil had agreed to take care of you while you were sick. You had insisted there was no need, and asked what if he got sick, but he didn't care. He just needed you to be well again.

Jamil took your temperature, which showed up to be a 100.4. "My my, seems you have a fever" Jamil sighed. " I'll make you some tea and chicken noodle soup, seeing that you're... Cold" Jamil was damn right you were cold. You had about 5 different blankets on you. "And also the fact that the only thing you've eaten today is crackers. Get some rest while I'm making the stuff" Jamil then got off the couch and went off to the kitchen.

"MC...

MC..."You heard a voice, and felt a tapping on your shoulder. You opened your eyes. "Your chicken noodle soup and tea is at the table" Jamil had a slight smile. " Mk.. " You muttered, slowly getting up with a blanket wrapped around you.

You took a seat at the dinner table, grabbing the spoon in your bowl and eating the soup slowly, taking breaks to drink tea. Soon enough it was all finished. "Get out from under the covers for a bit so I can get and accurate temperature" Jamil said. "It'll only be five minutes, not too long"

Jamil soon took your temperature, which was much lower than before, but you still had a bit of a fever. "Put this ice pack on your head, and drink some of this . medicine. You can take a nap afterwards. I'll be with you here to take care of you" Jamil smiled. "I'll be here with you always"

#☁️cloudy writes⁠☆ #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #twst jamil

[firein-thesky]

Werewolf wolfwood or human wolfwood with angel reader, whichever inspires u more ❣️❣️❣️ this idea is so funnn tysm already!!!

hello dear!!! gosh these are such good ideas…..both of them have me 👀👀👀 but i think i’m gonna go with werewolf wolfwood!! i gotta!!! right??

(but i swear i almost folded for wolfwood w angel reader……ohhh i’m imagining him on his knees..,,.,,devoted….,.,)

anyways! i hope you enjoy!!

werewolf!wolfwood

cw: muzzle, restraints, weird power dynamics??….i am so sorry how h word this is jfkdjskjdksjska

***

“Nico,” you hush, you murmur, you use a soft and soothing tone like you’re trying to calm him.

His growl is a low and vicious thing in the pit of his chest. His ears are back, teeth bared behind the confines of the muzzle. You try to move as slowly as possible.

He lunges but comes up short against the restraints around his wrists, his neck.

“Easy, Nico,” you hold up your hand, “come on, it’s okay—it’s okay, it’s just me.”

The moon is a burnt hole in the night sky; huge and copper and crimson. It hangs above his head like a ruddy halo. It casts a shadow of the manbeast in front of you.

He’d insisted on the restraints. He didn’t know what he’d do to you like this.

(And truthfully, you didn’t know what you’d do with him like this.)

He’s hulking and huge, broad and clearly all muscle. Dark hair all over his body, over his bare chest and stomach. He towers over you; even with the further curved back of an animal usually on all fours. And his teeth—

Oh, his teeth.

Slowly, you take a step towards him.

His growl goes darker. In warning.

“Nico,” you coo, “baby,” you try, “it’s just me. I’m not gonna hurt you—“

Another step.

You’re in range now.

You hold up your hand, an offering.

His hackles rise but you freeze. You don’t move a muscle.

He creeps towards you, slow, careful. He’s still growling, but as he nears, it begins to wane.

“That’s it,” you breathe, just as he gets closer, and closer—and really, he shrouds you. His form swallows yours. “See?” You whisper, “it’s alright—“

The muzzle nudges your hand. He’s still growling but it isn’t quite so vicious.

And then your hand nudges along his stubbly jaw, up into his hair, along the pointed ears atop his head. You try to keep your breathing even and deep. You try to stifle any caution.

“Atta boy,” you murmur, boldening your touch.

It only takes a second for him to knock you to the ground. And then he’s over you, growling all over again—and—and—

He slots his waist against yours.

Heat races through you—maybe a flush of embarrassment—this shouldn’t—he’s—

The cold wire of the muzzle nuzzles into your jaw, trying to get closer, get at you.

“Gentle,” you get your voice to unstick, still focusing on all the places you touch, the way his teeth are right in your face, bare and dripping. “Nico—c’mon, settle down.”

The growling continues.

In a move too daring it could be considered stupid, you loop your fingers through the muzzle—

“Hey,” you command, “look at me.”

His growl darkens and you are well aware of the very real, very sharp danger of the proverbial (and more literal) cage that you are poking your fingers through.

Then you yank the muzzle so he eyes you directly.

“What’d I tell you?” You say, harsher now, “back off.”

And then you twist his face away from you with the control on the muzzle. He snaps his teeth just shy of your fingers looped in the wiring still. He can’t reach.

A surge of power.

“Off.” You command again, pushing at him, holding the muzzle away from your own face so that you force him to look away from you—a usual act of submission.

This time, he half-listens.

You force yourself to stand while he stays lower, on his knees.

He goes to stand, to tower over and intimidate you again, but you snap at him;

“Down.”

His growling doesn’t wane. His muscles twitch at the command, perhaps to disobey, or perhaps to listen.

“Down, boy.”

And ultimately, he stays down on his knees.

You take a braver step towards him, take his chin in your hand and guide it up to gaze at you.

“That’s it,” you say again, victorious, voice stronger, “good boy—good boy—“

Laced within the growl is a higher, sharper sound.

A whine.

His eyes, so dark, gaze steadfastly up at you. As if you are the only thing he could ever see in life, only thing that could ever matter to him.

You fight back the raw edges of your own wild smile;

“I’ll make an obedient dog of you yet.”

***

forgive me i am falling asleep as i type hfksjaj sorry if this makes 0 sense lol but thank you for requesting!! hope you enjoyed!!

send me a monster + a character and i’ll write a drabble!

#thank you!!! #cielo plays! #cielo chats! #cielo writes!

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 3

Twilight

Definitely self indulgent, just a small thing I managed to throw together after a sleep deprivation filled day.

My Twilight Princess lover side definitely comes out on this one, as well as some vague headcanons in a short drabble, as always can be read as platonic or romantic.

There was something special, you think, about the way autumn came in a howling moonson of glory into the Era of Twilight, heralding the coming of the temperate strokes over the woods in flowering tones of russet, bronze, maple and amethyst in gilding gold over the evergreen of Hyrule’s eternity in warmth even as the weather turned ever colder, the late afternoon sunset fleeting in it’s mercurial transition into the hour of twilight, only matched in honor to the abandoned forests of the Era of Sky, the enduring wealds of the Era of time and the untamed thickets of the Era of Wilds. Oh so contrasting to it’s hero but no less lovely for it was a perfect balance, when you first met Twilight (or well, got properly acquainted, really, but that’s a story for another day), it was clear he was no less captivating than his homeland, as steady as the oaks and pines stretching towards the heavens and with the kindness of it’s people, was it any wonder then, that you found it easy to love the man with the loyalty and eyes of wolf to match the divine beast in his soul?

So it was why through a long, long period of trying to make the true extent of your feelings as unseen as a dream after waking hours and trying to hide just how enamored you had slowly become, that you became well acquainted with the tells that showed something weighted on his mind as you left Ordon’s Spring after washing Epona for the long road ahead tomorrow. The way his head hang just a little, ears lowering to match the way Wolfie’s would when he gently nudged one of the members of the Chain into holding him after a nightmare as his walls attempt to come back up, as solemn as a wolf in mourning.

Ever so responsible, ever steady. Trying to take the world onto his shoulders as any hero would.

He should have know it wouldn’t work on you, not after all you’ve been through.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Your tone gently broke through the stillness of the stream as you fed Epona an apple, Twilight’s ears twitch as he turns towards you, softening as he notes the way the twilit enchanted sunlight lingered upon your visage in a most ephemeral way, shadows holding affectionately and brightening the stars of your eyes and the liminal nature of this moment and how Epona neighs, gently nudging the side of your hand for more rubs or maybe apples he knew you loved sneaking to her when he wasn’t looking, making your airy, fae like laughter free to be taken by the breeze.

“Reminiscing, is all.” He answer you, tone a low rumbling of the fall winds and like handling mirror shards into something new and beautiful as he privately holds onto the memory of your smile, holding it with claws and teeth for he can never quite be sure for how long he’ll have it, “It feels like a lifetime ago since...”

Since the start of his journey, since the beginning of his new one in the throes of attempting to settle in Ordon to lick his wounds after the lingering shaded reality of another realm settled into the crevices of his soul and marrow after grabbing the neck of the beast inside his being and biting down onto the hackles had left the injury open to bleed again.

Since losing Midna shattered his heart and killed him all at once, leaving him to live a life of haunting his own existence until you looked at him, all of him, and guided him back to life. Picking the shards of his heart and slowly putting them back together with the care of someone he’d seen mourn for an unfortunate nightingale on the road even as you cut yourself when he attempted to push you away.

You nod, gently resting your head on his shoulder, your gaze flicking to the Shadow Crystal, you don’t press about Midna and Twilight feels so, so warm, breathing out, you were both working on it, slowly but surely. Midna may not be dead, but he knew her absence left you haunted too, “Does it still hurt?” The twisting of reality upon his form, drawing from a well of ambition from long gone spirits who’d attempted to grab at the Goddesses throat, and the way the darkness so fiercely claimed any part of his he could touch. Making both of your shadows darker as the veil between worlds thinned, refusing to allow anything else to attempt a claim.

He shakes his head, gently putting his chin atop yours, “No, not anymore.”

You hum, gently nudging his chin in a sweet, adoring nuzzle, “I’m glad, then.”

You both remain on the spring until night falls, basking into one another’s presence and soaking into the timeless moment of learning to love one another as you can.

Twilight silently wishes that, just this once, he’s allowed to keep this the same way the Twilight Realm still keeps the old him.

#linked universe twilight x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader #midna x reader kinda? #something about how Twilight can't go home again #something about mourning lost love even if they aren't dead #something about new beginnings when you don't fully recognize yourself anymore #something about how another world's magic irrevocably changes you just by being in close proximity to it #summer writes #summer writes linktober shadow 2023

[doe-writes-stuff]

Rick finds reader camping in the woods and, over time, convinces her to join Alexandria. Happy, lovey (optional smutty) ending please!

A/N - Thank you very much for the request! ^_^ Your comments and reblogs always touch my heart <3 I'm glad you're enjoying my stuff.

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, blood, injury, strong language. Reader has trust issues. Set during the time-jump between seasons 8 and 9. This will likely have a second part with smut to come >.>

The first time you meet him, he scares you.

You hadn't anticipated meeting anyone out here in the wilderness, let alone someone who didn't intend to kill you. But there he was, stumbling out from the thicket of trees you'd camped within, gun held loosely in his hand, seeming just as startled as you that he'd found someone out here. The pure shock of it had left you both silent, staring

There were so few of you left, and often the people you did have the misfortune of encountering were something less than human nowadays. It was better--safer--to assume he was no different. But rather than lift the weapon to shoot you then and there, he held up his hands in a placating gesture, backing away when you'd stood to prepare yourself for a fight.

"Hey, hey...'m not gonna hurt you. Let's not do anythin' we can't take back, now." He reassured, one palm facing you and the other slowly lowering his gun back into his holster to show he meant the words. Your eyes are riveted on the weapon, your hand grasping the hilt of your knife with a white-knuckle grip.

There's little it could do for you at range against his gun, but still, holding onto it made you feel better.

"My name is Rick Grimes." He watches you carefully, his hand still stretched out to try calming you. "And I ain't lookin' for violence. Just out scavengin'."

You say nothing at the introduction, not trusting anything he had to say. You shift uneasily on your feet, eyes flicking away to the surrounding tree line to look for anyone else hidden from your view. Surely a man like this wasn't alone-

"It's just me out here." He seems to understand what's on your mind, settling into a more relaxed standing position in an effort to get you to do the same. "Just us."

Still, you say nothing. Whatever his true motivation for being out here, you know better than to believe what people tell you at face value. It was a big factor as to why you'd lived this long.

"Can I ask your name?" Perhaps discouraged that you still hadn't responded to his words, his head tilts in a reassuring way, and he takes a step forward, hesitantly.

"Got nothing to say." You gripe, throat tight with anxiety. You match his step back, taking care not to stumble over the log you'd been sitting on mere moments before he'd arrived. "Just wanna be left alone. Best be on your way."

"Maybe we can help each other-"

"Leave."

It's so obvious that he wants to say more, wants to try convincing you he was harmless, but the hair on the back of your neck is standing straight up and you can't bring yourself to care. Your hand takes a better grip of your knife meaningfully, and Rick seems to get the message, once more holding his hands up and slowly backing away the direction he'd come from.

"I'll leave you be, then."

You stay standing, waiting, for at least 20 minutes after he disappears and the sound of his footsteps fade away in the sounds of the forest. You can't trust that he won't turn around and try killing you when your guard was most lowered.

Eventually, your hackles lower. And with a somber glance around at the cozy little campsite you'd occupied for the past couple months, you sigh. You supposed it was time to move on.

The second time you meet, you nearly kill him.

The little cabin in the woods you'd discovered after packing up camp had clearly seen better days, but over the course of the few weeks you'd been staying there, it felt a little more like a home. Some reinforcing wood planks to keep the door from caving in case the infected got wind of you, and a bit of cleaning to get the worst of the bloodstains off from the floor saw the inside looking downright cosy.

It wasn't exactly your apartment from back in the day, but hey, one couldn't be picky.

The sound of shuffling feet outside has you glancing up from your book and sighing, annoyed that an infected or two had wandered their way close to your shelter. It was strange that they so frequently seemed to wander by this deep into the woods. You hadn't seen that pattern at your old campsite, but here it was almost routine.

You dog-ear the page you were on and set it on the side table, next to the burning candle providing you with the light. Grabbing your improvised spear leaning in the corner of the main living space, you rise and peer out the window to out into the darkening evening.

You freeze, pulling yourself out of the window's sight. A stuttered breath escapes you.

Two men. Not infected. Shit.

Backing away and crouching down below the sill of the window, you scramble as quietly as you can towards where you kept your small bag of weapons on the nearby counter. One hand reaches up into it, ears perked up for any sign that the men had reached your doorstep, and blindly closes around the handle of your 9mm pistol.

Thank fuck you always kept it loaded.

You catch snippets of the two talking outside, the distance and the walls in between you making the words indistinguishable, but their closeness had your heart pounding a little faster in your chest. Your eyes scan the room, looking for a hiding spot or a vantage point that would protect you from possible harm. And suddenly the cabin doesn't seem all that great anymore, seeing nothing to aid you and nowhere to hide.

With a snarl, you curse your own shitty luck. This might get ugly.

Drawing the knife from your hip into your other hand, you crouch to the right of the front doorway, back to the wall. At least it should shield you when they initially entered your little home. Maybe it would buy you a little time, but you didn't hold out hope you could hide from them completely. Not with two of them...

Heavy boots on the steps to your cabin alert you to their impending entrance. With a moment to close your eyes and focus, you adjust the gun's grip in your hand, opening them again when you hear mumbling and hesitation from the two intruders. Their voices are low, gruff.

A spike shoots through your heart when the door bursts open, swinging towards you on its squeaking hinges. Just as planned, it shields you from their initial entrance. They step inside, systematically checking the room. You get ready on your toes, prepared to spring out at a moment's notice.

You get your chance as the door begins to close, the man doing so with their back to you, talking to their companion in a hushed tone. And while the crossbow-wielding companion widens his eyes as he spots you, the other that you'd set your sights on is too late to react as you gun is held to his temple and the knife rests upon his neck. He tenses with a curse under his breath, and smartly doesn't try to resist.

"Hey!" Your captive's companion shouts, eyes hard. "Let 'im go."

"Hell if I'm gonna just let you bastards walk in and take what you want." You say with as much steadiness as you can manage in your voice. "Y'all're trespassing in my home. I got every right to defend myself."

He practically growls back. "Ain't gonna be anyone's if you don't get those outta his face."

The crossbowman shifts on his feet, trying to figure out what to do, given his friends is currently in such a precarious spot between your weapons. It surely doesn't help your own nerves seeing him so antsy. You find yourself pressing the knife just a little bit more against your hostage's skin, not enough to actually cut, but at least so he doesn't get any stupid ideas while you have control.

"Tell your friend to put the crossbow down." You mutter into the man's ear, ignoring the feeling that you somehow...recognized him. You hadn't gotten a great look at his face before holding him captive, but something about him felt...familiar.

"Daryl, easy." The man in front of you says, one hand coming up to try placating the other. "Put it down. We'll talk."

One of the crossbow bolts is leveled straight at you, but you're careful to keep most of your body hidden behind the man you were currently holding hostage. If he was smart, he wouldn't try taking his chances with shooting the small portion of you that was visible. Besides, even if he got a shot off, there was no telling if you'd accidentally pull the trigger or slice his neck on the way down. And that doubt was exactly what you needed.

You can see him--Daryl, supposedly-- glancing between you and his friend, but eventually the crossbow is lowered to a more non-threatening state. Wasn't all that happy about it, either. He still hadn't put it onto his back, ready to bring it up and shoot you at a moment's notice, but at least you weren't staring down the business end of an arrow.

"Say your piece." Daryl spits.

"All I want is to be left alone." You demand, keeping the knife to your captive's neck, but pointing the gun at Daryl. You flick it quickly towards the open door behind you. "Leave, and I'll send your friend a few minutes after when I'm satisfied you're not nearby."

Clearly unhappy with that demand, Daryl takes a step forward, but your gun returns to his companion's head for emphasis. "Don't have to like it, but if you don't want him hurt, then do as I ask."

"Like hell I'll-"

"Do what she says."

Daryl's jaw sets. "Rick, I ain't leavin' you with-"

"Like she said, it's her home."

Before you can fully mask it, your brows twitch upwards in recognition. That name...

"Askin' me to trust her..." Chewing on his bottle lip with worry, Daryl looks back to you with a glare. "What's to say you won't kill him the moment I walk out that door?"

"All you got is my word that I won't." You admit, knowing that promises meant so little nowadays. Your answer doesn't inspire any reassurance in the bowman, who scoffs and shakes his head. "I just want you away from me, and I'd prefer not to kill anyone to do it. But I will if you make me."

Rick nods as much as your knife allows him to towards the open door. "Go on. I'll catch up with you."

It takes several seconds, and no doubt some unspoken conversation between Rick and Daryl, but eventually the crossbowman takes one step and then another towards the door. You shift and lead Rick so that your back is never to Daryl as he goes, the gun and knife staying right where they are just in case he tries anything stupid.

You watch, adrenaline quickening your breath, as Daryl does as he's told and steps down onto the grass, finally disappearing into the trees beyond after some minutes. And even still, it takes another minute before you're completely comfortable that he's left.

Now, to deal with your hostage...

You release the knife and push him away from you harshly, gun leveled squarely on his head. Rick recovers, turning to see that while he was no longer in your hostile grip, he wasn't fully in the clear either.

"Told you once already Rick." You say, immediately recognizing the man and his scruffy facial hair. From the scrunch of his eyes and furrowed brow, clearly he'd also been wondering why you sounded so familiar too. "I just wanna be left alone."

"Didn't know it was you." He says, reaching up to rub at his neck, checking for cuts. But there was nothing. "Far as I knew, you were still campin' somewhere in the woods. If I'da known, wouldn't have come out here."

"Well..." You give a sigh, feeling a sudden sensation of fatigue. All this had thoroughly exhausted you. "Doesn't matter now. What's done is done."

He looks at you silently, appearing very relaxed for still having the gun aimed at him. Perhaps he didn't believe you'd really shoot. And unfortunately for you, it was growing more and more likely you wouldn't.

With a glance towards the door--there was no sign of Daryl, still--you gesture to it with your knife. "Go on. Don't come back. I'll be gone by the time you might come looking anyway."

Rick gives one last look, before slowly walking to the open door. But, he stops just as he gets to the threshold, turning back to you again with a thoughtful expression.

"You don't have to be alone." His voice is soft, gentle, and yet still holds onto that confidence and certainty you'd heard when you'd first met. "Daryl and I...we come from a community. Dozens of people. Good people."

You only stare, making it clear what your answer was with the hardness of your expression. Even still, it doesn't stop him from trying one more time.

"It ain't safe out here on your own anymore. People have always needed each other, even before, but that's more true now than it ever was. Can't you see that?"

At the very least, you spare him a few moments of thought, before you gesture towards the door with your gun without a word. Rick looks down, accepting that he hadn't convinced you. Then, you see a little amused smile lift the corners of his mouth, head shaking slightly.

"I still don't even know your name."

You match his smile, though it lacks the amusement.

"It's better that way."

Hmm, well, they say the third time's the charm.

Out of breath, heart beating the drums of adrenaline and survival instinct through you, your eyes whipped around the forest for any sign of your pursuers. The rain wasn't making it easy at all, pouring down through the canopy of leaves above and making everything much too noisy to hear if anyone was closing in.

You'd lost a lot of blood, and you'd no doubt lose a lot more unless you managed to get a decent bandage on your wound. The first had already fallen off, sopping wet from the rain and doing nothing whatsoever to staunch the blood from seeping out of your side. Whatever caliber round the person with the rifle was using was terrifying, and you doubted another shot would miss its mark quite like the first did.

Fatigue was dangerously close to descending on your muscles and limbs, and already you could feel the impending weakness from not enough blood pumping through your veins. You didn't have much time. But your only option was to run.

Blindly. Frantically. No destination in mind, and no one to help you. Was this how you died? Were all those years making ends meet, killing and scavenging and surviving just to bleed out like this? Like a wounded animal in the middle of nowhere? It all felt so unbelievably unfair.

Teeth grit against both the searing pain of your wound and the tired muscles in your legs, you rise from against the tree with a gasp and limp as fast as you were able through the dark grey forest.

Paranoia had you hearing the crunch of leaves behind you every few feet, but no matter how many times you'd whip your head around to face the incoming threat, there was no one there. The rain deafened everything else, and it was then that you realized you needed to have a better sense of the direction you were running. All of this wouldn't be helped by running face-first into the jaws of a hungry infected.

Wiping the rain from your eyes as best you can, squinting into the gloom, you make your way in one set direction. The forest all looked the same, no matter where you swept your gaze. For all you knew, you could be running in circles-

The distant bang somewhere behind you wasn't what caused your body to jolt painfully in place, but the splintering of the tree trunk from the bullet's impact right beside you certainly did. With a yelp of surprise and fear, you take off with renewed vigor, pushing past your already screaming lungs and shaking limbs.

You would not die out here. You swore it.

Now making a zig-zagging path through the forest, hopeful that the unpredictable path would discourage further shots from your would-be killer, you keep going. Your own sense of dread rises the more you feel yourself becoming dizzy. Whether it was from pushing yourself too hard, running for too long, or simply the loss of blood, you can't be sure.

And suddenly you're breaking through the trees and onto an empty road. And while you're surprised by the unexpected change of scenery, you don't have time to properly stop and process it.

That's why, seeing something that looked manmade at the end of the road up ahead--too far to make out properly, but clearly a construction of some kind--you immediately make your way towards it. The thought that someone might be inside didn't even cross your mind. Perhaps it would give you the shelter or place to hide that you needed. That was the plan, anyway.

Black dots edge at your vision, and you slow, chest heaving with the need for oxygen. Which, in turn, only further worsens your body's need for blood to distribute it.

No, no, no no no!

You'd reached your limit, and barely 100 meters from the walls you'd been running towards, you collapse in a heap in the rain. The impact upon the pavement doesn't register until moments later, and by then you swear you're hearing things because...over the sound of the pounding rain, you swear you hear voices.

Stay with me.

Don't close your eyes.

Self-preservation tells you that something is nearby, and a figure takes up the small window of vision you still have left, but everything is much too blurry to make out. The disorientation of being on the brink of passing out is terrifying.

This is the end, you think, cursing everything and everyone you can think of in your last moments, quickly losing the ability to even care as blood loss seeps you of strength. How completely unfair.

Consciousness eludes you, and everything goes black.

No matter how many days you heard it, some part of you believed you'd never get used to the sound; the laughter of children. Sing-songy voices as they played chalk games and tag in some nearby yard. When was the last time you'd heard such...such joy?

You'd cried when you realized you could no longer remember. The doctor attending to you--Siddiq as you'd learned his name to be later on--was quite concerned upon seeing you with red, watery eyes when he'd returned. It had taken quite a lot to convince him you were fine. It had taken all afternoon to truly accept the fact that you weren't dreaming and this was indeed real life. Without even having to explain your feelings, he'd seemed to just know, and understand.

There was little else to do but sleep and think when stuck in an infirmary bed for days on end. It had only taken you until that first afternoon to inspect your room with suspicion. The decorative trinkets and knick-knacks almost felt offensive. You'd nearly just died, and they'd stuck your ass in a room that looked right at home in one of those interior design magazines from way back when.

Rick had visited you that first evening. Came to check on you and see if you were recovering ok. Past the basic small talk, and the most superficial of answers to deeper questions, the conversation had been brief. And then he'd left, promising to come back another time when you were feeling more up to talking.

After that, there'd been more hours of staring up at a ceiling. More bouts of short naps that, admittedly, were very much needed. You hadn't slept as long or so comfortably in...hell, you couldn't recall. Unable to lift yourself from the bed, there was little else to do but wait, bide your time and recover.

And it unfortunately wouldn't be quick.

For the most part, you were left alone. From what you had surmised, they'd stuck you in a room separate to the rest of the infirmary, perhaps for safety. You didn't mind the distance. It gave you plenty of time to listen, to observe, to get an idea of what Rick had talked about in that cabins all those weeks ago. His words had meant so little back then, but now...?

Rick and his people truly had it lucky. All this...normality. People forgetting about the world out there, if even for a moment. Such luxury you'd never been able to afford. Slipping up for even a moment could very literally be a death sentence--hell, it nearly had been, even when you'd stayed vigilant--but these people...they didn't live every waking moment wondering if the next would be their last. They didn't sleep with a knife in their hands, ready to strike against anything that felt out of place. They didn't need walls around their hearts and minds because they'd built them from metal to protects their homes and their families. Large sheets, tall and sturdy.

These people...they laughed, they loved, they danced and sang. They ate dinners together around a table as a family. They gossiped with their neighbors, worried about if you were comfortable or if you needed another pillow behind your head. They cared, damnit. They felt safe.

They lived, so fully and freely.

Could you say the same for yourself?

If asked, you didn't think you'd be able to describe the feelings being in a place like this was invoking. Some mix between disbelief and...hope, perhaps. Something once thought unattainable, or lost forever, was right here in front of your eyes. And suddenly you thought you understood the difference between living and just surviving. Or, at the very least, began to grasp at the concept.

Your wound was still tender. It would be for another week still. But after several days of bed rest you could finally stand and walk around without much difficulty now. You wouldn't be running marathons anytime soon, but it was better than being confined. Although, Siddiq kept you from leaving the infirmary and getting some fresh air, which indicated that someone had put you on some sort of house arrest.

Made sense. You weren't much more than a stranger to any of these people. No one would let someone like that run amuck in their home.

You heard the footsteps leading up to your door before it actually opened. Turning away from the window you'd been looking out of, Rick enters almost cautiously. You meet his gaze, searching for any hint of deception, or bad intentions, but find none. He was comfortable in his surroundings.

He even felt safe enough to offer you a smile.

"Good to see you on your feet." He says evenly, leaning one elbow against a shelf on the opposite end of the room. His thumb slots into his jean pockets with the other. "Siddiq wasn't sure if you'd pull through that first night."

"Yeah, well..." You shrug, not sure what else to say, arms crossing over your chest. "Tougher than I look, I guess."

"That you are."

There's a lull, neither of you really sure what to say. Your gaze returned out the window of your infirmary room, tracking a group of children running after one another playing some sort of game. You couldn't tell exactly what the objective was, watching from afar.

After several moments of watching them, your lip twitches upwards a little. "This all...still feels a bit like a dream. Like I'll wake up at any second and be hit with reality."

You hear him huff an amused breath, steps coming closer. And while you once might have tensed and put more distance between the two of you, it seems illogical that he'd drag you into his home to save your life just to take it now. The reassurance that Rick didn't mean you harm meant you didn't flinch when he came up beside you to peer out the window as well.

"Felt that way for us, too, when we first came." He says with an understanding nod. "Feelin' like the floor's 'bout to give way from underneath you, somethin' like that?"

You nod, then something he'd said makes your brow raise. "You weren't here from the start?"

"My people came later. Much later, actually. We spent weeks on the road just...survivin.' Searchin' for somethin' we didn't know was there or not. And this,'" he gestures out the window, "is what we find at the end of it all. All I could tell myself is 'there must be somethin'. There had to be somethin'...wrong about it. Nothin's that easy. Not anymore."

"And was there? Something wrong?" You can't help but ask, unable to help but get invested in his little story.

"Nothing a harsh wake-up call couldn't fix. They weren't prepared for it, what's out there. Didn't realize how bad it could actually be." Another gesture, this time to the wall you could see in between the gaps of two houses further down. "But they're still here, and that's gotta say something about this place."

You look to him with a side eye. "That they're lucky?"

"That they're capable." Rick's head shakes, meeting your gaze. "See, that's what I missed the first time. I didn't see what they could make themselves to be. It may look like the old world, might have a few fancy amenities, but they've been through more than you think to still be here. And we did it together. For one another."

It's silent as you take in what he'd told you, eyes flicking back to the kids outside. "Tryin' to convince me to stay?" You ask, the humor evident in your tone.

Rick chuckles, that same smile gracing his expression. It still amazed you how at ease he could be in a stranger's presence. "Is it workin'?"

"Not sure yet." You say honestly, a lot of things on your mind.

"I'll take 'not sure' over 'hell no.'" Rick surmises with an accepting nod, not pushing it any further than that. "Siddiq expects you to need awhile longer to recover, so...gives you plenty of time to think on it."

"Maybe..." A thought suddenly comes to mind, and your own smile comes out. "I doubt your friend would appreciate me stayin'."

"Who, Daryl?" Rick's hand dismisses it with a wave. "He'll come around. We were the ones breakin' into your home, after all. Can't blame how you went about defendin' it."

You only shake your head, not truly believing him. Daryl, as you recall, had been ready to skewer you with one of his crossbow bolts. You weren't altogether convinced he still wouldn't the next time you met face to face.

"I'll let you rest." Rick says, pushing away from the window and laying his hand on your shoulder briefly, before turning to leave. "And if you do come to a decision, let me know."

Chewing on your bottom lip in thought, you nod, and he takes his leave of your room, the door closing shut behind him. Your stare remains on the wood for several minutes after, before eventually returning to the window. The children had disappeared from sight, perhaps off to get something to eat. It felt around lunch time anyway.

You had a lot to think about...

#rick grimes #rick Grimes x reader #fem reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #scenario

[deadlygronkle]

Ancestors Legacy Chapter 16

The Desert Chapter 6

Word count: 3044

Ao3 Prev

“Captain?!” Twilight’s voice came out raspy and distorted enough to make all three of them wince. 

Warriors and Time were across from him. They came for Twilight, and help him with Zone, despite him wanting them to stay back. He warned them not to come here, and to just let him handle it.

Twilight let out a small growl as anger and indignation soared through his body. Did they think he was not able to do this? Why did they come here after making it known to both of them clearly that he didn’t want them to experience this?

Then, just as violently the rage came, it evaporated. Anger has never served him well in the end. It has always either gotten himself or others around him hurt when he allowed it control him. 

Twilight looked at the other two to see their reactions. Warriors was crouched down slightly, ready to flee or attack at a moment's notice. The lion’s tail wasn’t even moving as he watched to see what Twilight could do, not that he could blame the captain in the slightest.

He felt awful about how he pinned down and nearly harmed Warriors mere minutes ago. Hell he can’t even remember how that came to be, everything after seeing the Shard was just a blur. It only came back into focus after he realized that Time and Warriors were actually here.

“Why are you here?” Twilight growled out, voice shaking slightly.

Twilight had lowered his voice to a near uncomfortable level. That paired with his voice being just as distorted and echoey as the Midna’s was, they shouldn’t be able to tell who he was just by his voice. 

“P- Wolfie?” Time asked, his blue eye gaze confused.

Twilight nodded, not directing his gaze as the golden wolf but rather Warriors. Looking at Time for too long in this form just reminded him of Shade. All that Time was missing was a red eye rather than a blue one at this point.

“What happened to you? Why were you attacking that human?!” Warriors demanded, his fur and hackles raised.

“They caused this,” Twilight responded, raising his own hackles in return. 

Warriors lowered his hackles, “Caused what? The Zone or you just suddenly being far bigger than last we saw you?”

“Both. Now why are you here?” Twilight demanded, trying and failing to rein in his irritation.

Warriors opened his mouth, before closing it, tilting his head at the large wolf. Twilight could see the confusion written on the lion’s face but didn’t know what for. He didn’t give any response that should have been suspect, but yet Warriors is acting like he did. 

“We came to help you and Twilight,” Time skillfully chimed in, “Do you know where he is?”

There was a fake concern about ‘Twilight’s’ location, andTime paired that with a pointed look. It was definitely not needed, and if anything only brought more suspicion to Twilight. Warriors was looking in between the two, a question clearly about to be asked. 

Twilight nodded, “Yes. Are you the only ones who came?”

“No….” Time spoke slowly as Twilight growled, “No one gets left behind, nor will they deal with problems on their own,”

Twilight and Time stared at each other. One with anger, and the other with a calm reserved look. Twilight snarled, breaking eye contact as he paced back and forth in front of the two.

“So….” Warriors started walking over to get Twilight’s attention, “We need to go tell the others we’re fine. You joining us?”

Twilight nodded, “Lead the way,”

As angry as Twilight was at the others for coming to the Zone, his want to protect them was stronger. They were in his territory now, and he was going to do his best to protect them here. 

As they walked, Time fell behind walking next to Twilight as Warriors led the way. Twilight once again did his best to ignore the now fully real concerned look that he was getting. It was still unnerving to look at Time and see a corporeal golden wolf.

“Are you alright Pup?” Time whispered once Warriors was far enough ahead to not overhear.

“Just peachy,” Twilight grunted, “It’s not like you all came here after I specifically told you not to,”

“We were worried,” Time tried to reason as Warriors passed over the top of the dune, “It's been nearly a week and there has been no sign that you were alright, hurt, anything,”

Twilight paused walking for a second, “It’s been a week?!”

Twilight’s head was swirling with thoughts. Just how long was he passed out for before he was woken up? Did time pass slower in this Zone? None of the Zones he had been in before did this.

Time let out a concerned whine, “Did you not know?”

Twilight answered frantically, “No I- Barely any time has passed for me,”

“Shit, is time diluted here?” Time asked, eye widening.

“I… don’t know,” Twilight was honest as they came over the dune and to the group.

Twilight allowed his senses to take over as he looked at the group in front of him. Their scents hadn’t changed in their new forms so it was easy for him to tell who was who. The swirling on all the different scents was undoubtedly going to give him a headache but he can manage this much. 

“Din’s Balls, you weren’t joking,” A pink rabbit- Legend spoke, “Wolfie really did have a growth spurt!”

“Yeah and he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Warriors retorted.

“Wolfie!” A small otter- Wind skittered out in front of him, “Do you recognize me?”

Twilight made a show of bending down to take a long sniff at the otter. Due to his bigger size Wind was actually pulled forward a bit with a squeak.

Twilight rose back up, “Sailor,”

Wind giggled, “Yup! Do you know what everyone else is?”

Twilight looked at everyone, one by one. Then he nodded looking back down at the 

otter. Sky was a bird, Hyrule a deer, Wild a maned wolf, and Four was a small mouse on top of Hyrule’s head.

“Does that mean you can lead us to Twilight?” Hyrule asked, shifting from one hoof to another.

Twilight thought for a moment on how best to answer this. On one hand he can easily say that he could lead them to… himself but not yet, but that would only create more questions. 

After a moment longer Twilight spoke, “I can lead you to the Great Fairy,”

He watched everyone’s reactions to his change of voice. Wild and Four, if they thought anything of it, didn’t show anything but mild curiosity. The rest were none the wiser, except for maybe Warriors but that could be debated.

“Has Twilight been to the Great Fairy recently?” Sky asked, his feathers poof out from the cold wind. 

“I think he would be one of those Ordon Goats!” Wind added.

Twilight couldn’t help but let a small grin show, “Yes, he has been there. Come, before THEY show up,”

His dark tone left no room for argument, leaving for the smaller critters of the group to catch a ride on the larger ones. What he was not expecting was for Sky to hop his way over to him.

“Hey uh Wolfie? Could I catch a ride with you?” Sky started to ramble nervously, “It’s just that, while Time says I don’t bother him with my talons I can tell that I’m tugging. With you having thicker fur I thought it would be better for all involved,”

Twilight did not answer verbally, rather he knelt laid down with an amused huff. Sky gladly took the invitation and nestled into the fur around his neck, where it was easily the thickest. Twilight could barely feel the weight of the large bird as he turned to see if everyone else was ready.

Once everyone was indeed ready he set out- not missing the content coo from behind his head as Sky buried himself deeper in his fur- following the smell of light that was extremely faint.

“So Wolfie,” Wind started from Warrior’s mane, “Do you have an actual name? Or can we just continue to call you Wolfie?” 

Twilight snorted out sand from his nose, “You may refer to me in anyway you see fit,”

While he hated the name Wolfie, he could never think of a better one. Yet he had grown used to it over the time he traveled with the others. It may be a cop out, but it was better than nothing.

“So can I call you Mr. Floofs then?” Wild asked cheekily.

Twilight turned around and growled, showing off his teeth. 

“What you said we ‘can refer to you how we see fit!’ “ Wild spoke, a replication of a grin on his fox-like face.

“How about we don’t irritate our guide?” Four asked, despite his small size his voice was quite loud.

“Oh you're no fun Smithy,” Wild overdramatically pouted.

“I’m just being realistic,” Four replied.

Twilight proceeded to start tuning them out and focus on leading them to the only safe place in the Zone. He was using his heightened senses to continue making his way back to the cave while also being aware of any dangers lurking in the sand.

----------------------------------------------

Once the chain arrived at the Cave of Ordeals Twilight took a look around. There was no sign that the three had been there recently, and the fading scents confirmed that. Twilight allowed himself to loosen up as they walked into the Cave.

“So the Great Fairy is down here?” Sky asked from behind him, having awoken from sleeping on the way there.

“Yes, The Cave of Ordeals,”  Twilight confirmed as they entered the cool cavern.

“So… where is the Great Fairy?” Wild asked, “Shouldn't there be like a large flower with her in it?” 

“She is 9 more floors down, and she lives in a spring,” Twilight replied, skipping stairs as he went down.

“9 more floors? Was this a dungeon at some point?” Legend asking, haven gotten off of Wild’s back to hop down the stairs on his own.

“A trial dungeon ran by The Great Fairy,” Twilight explained, “At the end of it, she gave a bottle of her tears, before sending the person to one of the Light Spirit springs,”

“You sure do know a lot about this place. Did you happen to travel here with Twilight?” Warriors asked, sounding curious but also clearly prodding for information.

“Yes, she knows both of us,” Twilight answered somewhat briskly.

“Wait, if this is a dungeon, why aren't there remnants of Twilight like the other dungeons?”  Hyrule asked as they entered the second floor.

“Twilight did mention that when we first met about that Forest Dungeon,” Four agreed from atop of Hyrule’s head.

“This place never held a Shard of the Twilight Mirror, nor a piece of the Fused Shadow. Right now this place is the purest place in Gerudo Desert,” Twilight explained somewhat irritatedly, “Now quiet, I need to listen for monsters.”

While Twilight did need to listen, just in case some monsters came back, it was also for another reason. The more questions he answered about this place the more likely he is to let slip something only Twilight would know. 

Hell he was pretty sure Warriors was putting things together as they talked more and more. Throughout the entire walk over to the Cave of Ordeals Warriors seemed to be analyzing everything he was saying. 

Whether that be from wariness directed towards Twilight or bits and pieces of a hypothesis the Captain had Twilight didn’t know. Either way it set him on edge to be extra careful to not slip up.

The rest of the trip down was uneventful. Though Twilight noticed the others getting more and more tired as they went. They weren’t used to their new forms, and didn’t have the stamina Twilight had.

Twilight made sure they took frequent breaks on the way over, but it was obviously not enough. Though it could have been worse as the Zone cooled down what could have been an extremely hot day. 

“Hero you’ve returned! And with guests,” The Great Fairy’s voice boomed out when he led the group in, “What news do you bring of the interlopers?”

“interlopers?” Time asked, quietly.

Twilight lowered himself to the ground, “Sky get off. I need to inform the Great Fairy of what I know, stay here,”

“Shouldn’t we also know that stuff?” Warriors asked, watching Sky hop out of Twilight’s fur.

“Yes, but I have less to catch her up on than y’all. Now stay here, and I’ll tell you what you want to know later,” Twilight answered with a small growl.

Before Warriors could continue, Time got physically in between the two, “Got it, we will wait for your signal,”

“Time,” Warriors growled, tail smacking side to side wildly.

“Captain,” Time started a staring contest.

It was several long seconds before Warriors broke eye contact, groaned loudly as he sat down, “Fine, but don’t think you are getting out of this Wolfie,”

“I would never dream of it,” Twilight responded, easily going down the stairs three at a time.

“So? Did you find a vase or deal with one of the interlopers?” The Great Fairy asked, when Twilight arrived at the edge of her spring.

“Sadly no, there was some…. Complications,” Twilight replied, his ears twitching back towards the Chain.

The Great Fairy briefly glanced up, “I see, well what news do you have?”

“The Zone was caused by a shard of the Mirror of Twilight. The three are testing what the Zone does to the monsters. I nearly managed to recover and take care of the taller one- Ebo- but due to the complications I was unsuccessful,” 

“And who are these complications exactly? They all have the same Triforce as you do.” The Great Fairy finished the sentence in a whisper only Twilight could hear.

“Yes, they are heroes from different eras. We were joined together by Hylia to deal with some sort of looming threat,” Twilight whispered, “They only issue is that most don’t know that I am the hero they know from this era,”

“How?” The Great Fairy asked.

“They know my wolf form and my usual form as two different people,” Twilight took a breath in, “I would appreciate if you didn’t let them know who I am,”

“Very well,” The Great Fairy made her voice echo, “Heroes of the Eras, you may come down now!”

The others filed in, tiredness clearly in their body language. Still though, they bowed (or as best as some could) to the Great Fairy as a sign of respect. She stared at Time in particular, giving Twilight a sideways glance after a moment.

“Heroes welcome to my spring,” The Great Fairy greeted warmly, “You may stay here, rest, and drink from my spring. I cannot feed you though I suspect that your ally here will help in that endeavor,” 

Twilight nodded, “I’ll head out to gather some food once we all rest,”

By gathering food, he meant hunting some camels or other large animals. The others would be too loud and startle whatever animal he finds. Though he would try to steer clear of rabbits and deers for the two herbivores' sake.

Twilight was quick to add on after a moment, “And I’ll help you learn how to fight in these new forms,”

“You can do all of that once everyone gets a good long rest,” The Great Fairy motioned around them, “You may sleep wherever you want to, I will wake you if I sense anything,”

Warriors, the first of the others to speak, looked to Twilight, “And you’ll answer our questions in the morning?”

“Of course,”

“Great, ;let's get some shut eye everyone!” Warriors ordered, everyone spreading out to try and get comfortable on the ground.

Time lingered for a moment, like he wanted to say something, but he too went to lay down.

Once all of them were fast asleep, the Great Fairy whispered to Twilight, “The Golden Wolf over there… He is related to that poe that has been lingering, yes?”

“Yes, he couldn’t pass on without regrets, still can’t apparently,” Twilight murmured back.

The Great Fairy narrowed her eyes, “One of your allies is having a nightmare,”

Twilight ears twitched, and scanned the scattered heroes. Wind and Warriors were still together sleeping soundly. Time, Four, Hyrule and Legend were all near each other sleeping in relative peace. Wild however was kicking and letting out low whines.

Twilight got up from where he was sitting and made his way over to Wild quickly. Just like Twilight did when they were traveling he nosed at Wild’s face until the other woke up.

Wild shot up, hyperventilating and looking around frantically. His ears were down, and his tail was fully tucked in between his legs.

“Cub, it was just a nightmare,” Twilight said softly and calmly, still trying to offer a comforting presence.

Wild buried his head in the other's fur, still whining softly. If Wild was human, there was no doubt in Twilight’s mind that Wild would be hugging onto him like he was Wild’s only life line.

As Wild continued to cry into Twilight’s fur, Twilight slowly lowered himself to a lying position, Wild unconsciously following in suit. Sooner than later, Wild fell back asleep, head resting in Twilight’s fur.

He didn’t need to know what caused Wild’s nightmare, nor would pressure Wild to tell him when he awoke. All that mattered to the Orodonian was that Wild continued to sleep peacefully. 

The maned wolf buried himself further into Twilight’s fur as he slept. There were no more signs of nightmares that night from the other links. Everyone slept peacefully, just as tired as he was from the events of the day. 

Twilight stayed up for a bit longer before he too fell asleep. The stress of the day washed off of him, as he slowly lowered his head to the ground. 

He didn’t even realize he fell asleep until the next morning. But for the first time in the Zone, he fell asleep on his own terms. 

#ancestor's legacy #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu hyrule #lu time #lu legend #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind #lu sky #lu fic #lu four #new chapter soon! #I forgot to upload this one lol

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Oo - if it strikes your fancy, can we get Ace saving assistant reader? Maybe she gets attacked while walking him or something and ace fights them off.

Bruce heard Ace find you at your desk before he saw it and he smiled a little. He should be annoyed that his highly trained guard dog was reduced to a quivering mess of puppy-like joy and needy whining but he couldn't be.

"I don't suppose you'd mind keeping an eye on him for me?" he drawled, watching you scratch just the right spot behind his ear to make his right hind leg twitch.

"No," you answer laughing, lavishing attention on him. "Pretty baby, you're such a good boy. Gonna keep me company, today, huh?"

Ace whined and laid his massive head in your lap, tail twitching and Bruce hummed, leaning over to kiss you good morning. "Never been jealous of a dog before," he huffed, without any real heat.

"Coffee?" you ask, straightening his tie, neatly side-stepping the comment.

"And the morning report if you-"

"They're already waiting on your desk along with your notes for the board meeting," you answer, getting up to get his coffee with Ace trailing after you.

Bruce smiled to himself and exhaled slowly. He was reasonably certain Ace would keep you out of trouble if you had to leave the building- there'd been an uptick in attacks, even in broad daylight; where Batman couldn't go. But- no one would look twice at you taking your boss' dog for a stroll.

_____________

"C'mon handsome," you say absently to the dog, stroking his head, "Let's go see if Mr. Wayne needs anythi-"

But before you can finish that sentence, meaty, dirty hands grab you and one closes over your mouth, "Scream and you're dead, you hear me?"

All you can do is nod, saying a silent prayer that all they wanted was money. And that when you dropped the leash Ace hadn't gone far. When a vicious snarl and a scream of pain make you shiver. You whip around to see Ace, teeth sunk into the leg of the man who grabbed you shaking for all he was worth, shredding fabric and flesh.

The man flailed uselessly trying to get away from the dog but so far as you could tell, Ace just clung on harder. The screams attracting foot cops and onlookers.

The cops drew their guns and you screamed, "Stop! Don't hurt him! Ace let go!"

At your voice, Ace did stop but he positioned himself directly between you and the man on the ground, hackles raised, ready to pounce again. By sheer luck, one of the cops recognized you and lowered his gun slowly, "That's a hell of a guard dog, lady-"

"My boss' dog," you explain quickly, "We were on a walk and-"

"Problem?" Bruce asked lightly. Thankful that the tracker in Ace's collar had gone off and alerted him when it did. His eyes locked on you, the dog, and the bleeding man.

"That fucking dog tore my leg off-"

"Then you shouldn't have touched the lady," Bruce said, eyes narrowing.

"Fuck-"

"An ambulance is on the way, Mr. Wayne," One of the cops said, "But the dog is going to have to quarantine and she'll have to give a statement-"

"I'll call my vet," Bruce said smoothly, shrugging out of his jacket to put it around your shoulders, banking on you looking very small and very vulnerable in it. "And I'll take her to the station myself if she's not being charged."

"We'll radio ahead," the taller cop said, weary of the crowd that was gathering. Everyone was on edge. The broad daylight attacks weren't any closer to stopping. And now that Bruce- and the assistant everyone thought he was probably dating were involved, it would get ugly in the press fast.

Bruce nodded and offered you a handkerchief easily, "Ace, down," he said sternly, picking up the leash. "Good boy." Once given the command to stand down, ace tucked his head under your trembling hand and you stroked his head weakly.

"Thanks, handsome," you murmur, "I didn't even hear you coming."

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked, tilting your chin up carefully. Searching your face for signs of injury, head trauma, swelling- anything that might mean you'd need medical attention.

"Just shaken up," you murmur, "We were on our way back. I didn't even have time to think-"

"I know," he said gently. "Let's get you to the station. I'll call the vet and have him take Ace home."

"He'll be okay right?" Your voice is very small and the dog whined in sympathy.

"I don't think he'll lose any sleep over it," Bruce snorted quietly, keeping an arm around your shoulders as he walked you both away.

#Bruce Wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne #assisstant!reader #ask answered #minors dni

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

A Stark Bride

Pairing(s): Aegon Targaryen x Stark!Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen

Warnings: mentions of inc3st cuz you know how targaryens be

Words: 2642

Summary: Aegon Targaryen reduced your father, Torrhen Stark, to a mere lord. The Targaryen conqueror had taken the title of king for himself. You wanted to depise them, those beautiful Targaryens with their lavender eyes and silver tresses. But they were beautifu. Terrifying and beautiful just like their dragons.

Silver hair. Rich lavender eyes. Dragons as large as the castle of Winterfell. Targaryen invaders. Your family had heard whispers of the Targaryens slowly making their way through the country, claiming everything as their’s. And now they had made it to the north. They had made your father, Torrhen Stark, bend the knee; surrendering his title as King in the North. A title that had been in your family for generations. Indignation rose in you but what could you do? You may have had direwolves but they were nothing compared to three dragons. To stay alive and ensure the Stark legacy went on, he had to agree to the terms. At least Aegon had still let him keep the north in his domain, naming him Warden. It was better than nothing. Well, that’s what your father tried to convince you; but even his words were laced with wounded pride at having to hand over the north to a foreign ruler.

The Targrayens, Aegon and his equally beautiful sister-wives, decided to stay to take in the splendor of the north; their newly conquered kingdom. Everyone was on edge at their stay, even more so with their ferocious dragons lurking above. You would admit though that they were beautiful creatures. Something you never thought you’d see in your entire life. Your own direwolf, Cerelia, was massive.

*

She was taller than you by two heads and was nearly as tall as Aegon himself. Their dragons were different though.

Beautiful and terrifying, just like their riders.

After Aegon announced that he and his sisters would be staying for a little while longer you kept to yourself and stayed mostly inside of your chambers or in the godswood. Cerelia being your constant companion. But you knew your direwolf needed her exercise and to stretch her massive limbs. It wasn’t fair to keep her locked up with you just because you didn’t want to see the faces of the people who stripped your father of his title.

Having made up your mind, you and Cerelia leave the castle and make your way out through the gates. Immediately Cerelia takes off in a run. You grin and follow suit. The two of you weaved between trees in a dizzying manner, the cold air burning in your lungs but how you loved the sensation. Mid-run you pounce onto Cerelia’s back; once she’s feels you seated she runs faster through the woods. You release a carefree laugh, feeling so giddy. It had been a while since you had last felt like that.

A screech from up above made Cerelia halt in her tracks, her bright yellow eyes lifting up. The earth trembled slightly as the screech became louder, closer. The Black Dread known as Balerion parts the trees to make his entrance. Cerelia steps back, hackles raised and the skin on her snout curling in a snarl. In an attempt to soothe her you run your hand over her night black fur. Ground shaking as Balerion finally landed you have to crane your neck all the way up to see his rider. Aegon.

“Fancy seeing you here Lady Stark.” He shouts from atop his dragon. Balerion lowers himself even more to allow Aegon to get off. His giant wings had caused the bordering trees around him to crack and bend, ultimately breaking them. Enormous trees that had been there since the First Men and the Children of the Forest. You feel your cheeks flare again with anger. This foreign king didn’t care about your land. Even less about the history.

Bristling a bit, you keep your tone cordial and cold. “I could say the same for you. Taking a gander of what you have won?”

His smile is light and you catch the shine of his eyes the closer he gets to you. “The north is truly a beautiful place. A bit too chilly for my comfort though.”

“You get used to it.” Recalling your manners, you get off of Cerelia. As you do so Balerion shifts and moves until his snout is mere feet from you. You panic and jump back a bit. To your surprise Cerelia doesn’t seem as concerned about the dragon being so close to you. Instead she swiftly goes in front of you and gives Balerion’s snout a sniff. She looks back to you as if telling you that you shouldn’t be such a chicken.

“It’s alright.” comforts Aegon. “He won’t hurt you.”

Hesitantly you ask him skeptically “You sure about that?”

“Not entirely. But your direwolf seems to be sure.” He points out as Cerelia now abandons you to go sniff Aegon. He chuckles as her wet nose prods at his neck and moves up to his forehead, giving his silver hair a lick and making it stand up. Balerion, seemingly wanting to get familiar with you as Cerelia was doing with Aegon, goes over to your frozen form as you stare at him with wide eyes. His whole entire head was simply enormous. Red eyes peer into you as he inhales and breathes out hot air into your face. With the confidence that only a huge creature such as himself could possess, he bumps his snout gently against your forehead. His scales are hot but not unpleasant.

Gingerly you take your glove off and stretch it out to press your fingertips experimentally underneath his chin. Unblinking red eyes close, content with your touch.

“He likes you.” Aegon pipes up finally, having been silent during the whole interaction. “He would never have let anyone else touch him.”

“I suppose I should be lucky then.”

“Lucky indeed.” When you turn your attention back to Aegon you find him smiling so gently at you that it makes your cheeks burn in an entirely different way.

You take note that his sisters are nowhere to be find. “Where are your sister? I never see one without the other.”

Absentmindedly, he waves his hand in the air. “They’re exploring as well. We all need our personal space. Now tell me, Lady Stark, enlighten me about the north.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised at his request. He offers his arm to you and as if on cue, Balerion lifts back up into the sky. You shoot Cerelia a timid look. To reassure you, she slowly blinks her eyes.

Taking Aegon’s arm, you lead him through the forest. Telling him all about the north’s history. All that had been bred into you. All that you and your family were.

*

Compared to her sister, Rhaenys was much more mild-mannered. An easy-going personality that was hard not to like. Rhaenys had already managed to win a few hearts of the north when she wasn’t on Meraxes. It made the northern lords feel better about her brother conquering them. Everyone saw now why there was a reason that there were rumors of her being Aegon’s favorite. Not that she would ever admit it. She didn’t want Visenya to feel bad.

She felt something sour in her though when Aegon returned to Winterfell with the Stark daughter hanging off of his arm.

Of course she shared him with Visenya. That was the only exception. Seeing him with another woman, a conquered woman, well, Rhaenys didn’t like the sight of it one bit. Anyone that wasn’t Targaryen was beneath Aegon. To see the Stark girl with him wasn’t right. They didn’t go together.

Visenya followed Rhaenys’ jealous gaze. “The nerve of her.”

“Aegon doesn’t seem to be opposing.” Rhaenys notes with a dry mouth.

Folding her arms, she continues to watch the two with her sister. “I never took you for the jealous type.”

“You’re different.” she murmurs. “Aren’t you upset?”

“Of course I am. I would like nothing more than to feed that slip of a girl to Vhagar.” Visenya replies easily. “Tensions in the North are already high though. Aegon wouldn’t like it much if we were to make things worse.”

“They couldn’t possibly do anything to protest. We have three dragons. They know what would happen if they were to argue against us.”

Visenya arches a silver brow. “You seriously want to hurt her. Well well. This certainly is a new transgression.”

Her younger sister shrugs. “This has never been an issue before. Aegon has always been our’s. There is no room for anyone else.”

“It’s not uncommon for kings and lords to have mistresses though. It means nothing to them. Just another notch on their bed. Another conquered thing. Don’t let it get to you sweet Rhaenys. She means nothing to him. We are the wives. We are his sisters.”

Unlike Visenya, Rhaenys was ever observant in body language. She saw the way Aegon leaned in toward the Stark girl. How his smile was too warm and his grasp on her more than cordial. He was attracted to her. He wanted her intimately. Not just as a mistress. He wants her as a wife. As a permanent staple in his life.

You glare, partly blaming Cerelia for the time you had spent with Aegon. In that time your cold heart had thawed toward the conqueror. You found him more agreeable and were able to see the humanity in him. He would tilt his head skyward and smile at Balerion. Affection. He would touch the bark of the weirwood tree you had taken him to. Appreciation. He would gently run his thumb along the back of your hand. Want.

Blushing, you throw down Cerelia’s brush onto the straw strewn floor of the horse stables. She looks over to you. Faux confusion as you could already sense the smugness radiating off of her. “Why couldn’t you have growled at him like you do any other man that comes near me?” Moaning you sit your but down on the dirty ground, the sound of horses whinnying and the pounding of the blacksmith was soothing to your ears as you lean your head back. “Why couldn’t his dragon just eaten me.”

More importantly was the question of why you had felt your stomach flutter with energy when he would train those lovely lilac eyes toward you.

“Damn him.”

Cerelia walks away from you, large plume of a tail bouncing with each step out of the stables. You lean your head against your knees. Nothing good could come of this new found infatuation.

“What’s the matter, Little Wolf?”

Head jolting up you meet the beautiful face of Rhaenys, Aegon’s youngest sister-wife. Her long silver-blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as she leans into the stable you’re in. Her breasts heaved up by her arms as they rest on the stable’s door. Rhaenys’ face was a lot softer than her sister Visenya’s.

“N-Nothing.” You stand and with difficulty you add “Your Grace.”

“That must have been so hard for you to say.” She muses out loud.

“Pardon?”

“Well, you used to be princess here. Before we took over. You must have been used to others calling you ‘Your Grace’. Not the other way around.” Rhaenys says nonchalantly. “It must be hard to have been downgraded to ‘lady’.”

There was something you didn’t like about what she said. You knew it to be true, but the way she said it had a taunting tone to it. Like she was holding the fact over your head. You have to fight every instinct not to talk back. Never had anyone spoken to you like that.

You stood up as she opened the door to the stall you were in. Rhaenys was not much taller than you yet she still held authority as she sauntered toward you. The sound of her boots crunching the straw underneath makes you inwardly wince.

Her lips curl downwards. “It’ll take some time for you to learn your place.” The glint of a dagger draws your attention to her hand. “But don’t worry. I can help.” Slowly she lifts up her arm that’s wielding the dagger. Valyrian steel.

“Remember this Little Wolf, Aegon is far above you. He is your king now. Keep your distance.” In a blink of an eye, Rhaenys struck at your face. You hiss at the burn of the blade, the bite as it sliced open your cheek. She goes to strike again but is knocked down to the ground by Cerelia. Rhaenys’ arm is held tightly in Cerelia’s jaw as the Targaryen cries out for help.

“LET GO!!” She screams. You hear the shriek of a dragon off in the distance. Meraxes.

Your heart pounds violently in your chest. “Cerelia! Down!”

Cerelia contemplates for a moment, glaring down at Rhaenys before releasing her and padding over to you, giving off a menacing growl when Rhaenys scrambles to her feet and bolts out.

“Gods. . .” Fearfully you look at Cerelia. What would happen to her now that she’s harmed a Queen of Westeros? She licks at your bleeding cheek, trying to comfort your worries.

“Your direwolf harmed my wife. Your queen.”

“I want it dead.” Rhaenys says to her husband. “Look at what that beast did to me!” Sure enough as she rolled up her sleeve there were terrible teeth marks on her otherwise creamy skin. They would scar.

“You can’t let this impudence go by without a consequence.” Visenya adds.

Your father is right beside you, hand on your shoulder as you tremble. Cerelia is on your otherside, undisturbed by the fact that she might be executed. The black direwolf merely flicks her ears and snorts.

Torrhen speaks up. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this Your Grace. Please. Cerelia must’ve been protecting (y/n), as she has always done. Maybe she mistook your wife as a potential threat.”

Visenya laughed with indignation. “Now he calls one of your queens a threat? How much more do you intend to offend us?”

“That’s enough.” Aegon tells his sisters, making them finally fall silent. Finally he turns his attention to you. “Explain yourself, Lady Stark.”

You can’t help it as tears spill onto your cheeks. The thought of them killing Cerelia just for protecting you. . . It was too much to bare. “Please Your Grace.” You fall to your knees and bow your head.

“Please spare her. Do what you will with me, but not Cerelia. She is the other part of me. Please do not hurt her. I will take full responsibility for what she has done. Just please don’t kill her.”

There’s a pause for silence before Aegon gives out his sentencing. “There is only one way to mend this wrong.”

You choked out a sob. He was going to have her killed.

“Rise (y/n) Stark.”

Your father has to help you up as your legs could no longer support you. So many memories with Cerelia flashed before your eyes. The day you found her. Nights when she was still a small pup and would curl against you as you slept. When you first realized that the two of you had a spiritual bond that you couldn’t quite explain.

Your Cerelia.

“You will make up the damage your direwolf has caused by becoming my wife. If you accept that term, then I will spare Cerelia’s life.”

“Aegon!” Rhaenys exclaims, throwing aside her chair in fury.

Even Visenya stands at this injustice. “You can’t possibly mean it!!”

You exchange a teary-eyed look of utter confusion with your father.

“I’m. . . I’m sorry Your Grace?” Torrhen stares at Aegon making the king smile.

“Yes. I wish to make your daughter my bride. My third wife. In exchange for the life of her direwolf.”

Well, you hadn’t exactly been expecting that. But you would take it. If it was to save Cerelia, you would become (y/n) Targaryen.

Wiping your face with the heel of your hands, you take a deep breath. “Okay. I accept your proposal.”

“Okay.” Aegon’s smile warms and you can’t help but feel that flutter once again in the depths of your tummy.

#aegon targaryen #aegon the conqueror #aegon targaryen x reader #reader insert #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction

[skyward-floored]

Well thank you :) hmmm, for a prompt. You know about all those fics where twilight losses control while in wolf form? What if that happened and time was forced to fight him? It could be caused by a villain with mind control powers whose cackling in the background as time tries desperately not to hurt his son

If I had a nickel for ever fic I’ve written where Twilight gets possessed/brainwashed and Time fought him I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it’s happened twice—

Anyway eeeeehehe I had fun with this one. This one is a little bit of a hypothetical situation, so it’s in the dubiously-canon pile. Technically canon to the au or not though, Twilight isn’t a little kid here, he’s... hmm, 17-ish? Somewhere around there.

Warning for some blood & injury: it could be worse, but I do think this is probably the heaviest one of these I’ve written 😅

———

“Easy pup,” Time soothed, ignoring the deep growls coming from his son’s throat, and the utter lack of recognition in his gaze. “You know me. I’m not your enemy.”

Nothing but a blank rage shone in Twilight’s eyes as he continued to approach, a snarl ripped from his jaws.

An amused cackle echoed from nearby, but Time firmly ignored it, still slowly circling around his currently-lupine son.

“Come on Twilight,” he breathed, searching for something— anything in those eyes that recognized him. “You can fight this. Don’t let them do this to you, I know you’re in there.”

A growl was all that met him, blue eyes devoid of recognition. Time took a risk and stopped moving backwards, reaching out a pleading hand, and Twilight seemed to hesitate, hackles lowering just a hair.

“Please Twilight,” he breathed.

His nose reached out to sniff Time’s gloved palm, and something flickered in Twilight’s gaze, something familiar.

“Get on with it! Kill him!” a voice screeched, and Twilight’s eyes went black.

He threw himself at his father with a snarl, and Time just barely managed to throw himself out of the way of his son’s jaws. Twilight immediately turned around to come at him again, and crashed into him with what felt like the force of a truck, sending him to the ground with a cry.

Twilight began to snap wildly at his face, and it was all Time could do not to get his neck torn out.

“Twilight stop!” he shouted, calling on his powers and the strength that they granted in order to throw him off. “Fight this!”

Twilight hit the ground but was immediately up again, snarling with his teeth bared wider than Time had ever seen them before.

“Ooh, he’s made him mad now sister!” a voice different from the earlier one giggled. “This is getting interesting!”

“A battle to the death!” cackled the other voice, almost impossible to tell apart. “The great Fierce Deity against his own son! Who will destroy the other first?”

Time gritted his teeth and avoided another snap from Twilight, casting his gaze around the room.

He saw no sign of the villainesses that were forcing Twilight against him, but they must be here, or at least close, eagerly watching the action. The Twinrova were notorious brainwashers, and their powers had not diminished in the slightest since Time had fought them as a child.

How could he break their hold over his son without killing him?

A piercing howl broke his thoughts and Twilight lunged at him again, jaws closing around his leg. Time cried out as teeth pierced his skin, and in a panic he lashed out with his powers, throwing Twilight off and straight into a wall.

The sound his son made when he fell made Time’s heart cry out, but he used the time it took him to recover in order to form a strategy. He’d seen something glint in Twilight’s ear when he’d attacked that time, and if memory served correct, it was almost definitely what was forcing him to attack.

All he needed to do was get close enough to get it out.

Time struggled to his feet, mauled leg barely holding his weight, but he leveled his weapon when Twilight turned towards him again. His breath came fast in his chest as Twilight snarled, but he had a plan now. All he had to do was see it through.

Twilight moved and Time met him, dodging his lunge and trying to get close to his ear without getting ripped apart.

Time was normally quick on his feet, but Twilight was a blur on four paws, snapping at his heels and trying to get at his injured leg, all while the Twinrova cackled in the background. Time dodged as best he could, trying not to hurt him any further, but he was forced to strike back with his own attacks, something in his chest aching every time he landed a hit and Twilight whimpered.

His leg was starting to feel numb the longer he fought, and Time could feel the urge to more fully give into his power growing the longer he deflected Twilight’s advances.

He desperately needed to finish this.

Taking a deep breath and mentally sending out an apology, Time sharply kicked out at Twilight’s ribs, knocking him backwards for mere seconds, but it gave him the moment he needed to get into position.

Time breathed out, preparing himself as Twilight shook himself and stumbled to his feet, and when his son launched himself at him yet again, he didn’t try to avoid him.

Twilight’s jaws closed around his arm, sending a burst of sharp pain up his elbow, and Time forcibly bit back a cry. Despite the feel of teeth beginning to tear through his gauntlets, he used his new position to reach forward and grab at his son’s ear.

A burst of hope went through him as his fingers closed around something hard, and he tore it out of his son’s ear, slamming the small gem to the ground and utterly shattering it.

The effect was immediate. Two identical screams echoed through the room, and Twilight jerked backwards, releasing Time’s arm with his eyes blown wide.

Then Twilight dropped to the ground with a choked cry, one that tore straight through Time’s chest as the enraged screams abruptly cut off. He wasted no time in stumbling his way over to his son, and ran a hand he firmly told himself wasn’t shaking along Twilight’s fur.

A full-bodied shudder ran through Twilight, and he fell back into hylian form, face pale. A small moan escaped his lips as he clutched at his forehead, and Time eased Twilight’s fingers out from where they gripped at his hair.

“Easy Twilight, take it slow,” Time said quietly, and forced himself to look at every injury he’d inflicted on his son.

Twilight had blood smeared across an eye from a hit Time had been forced to take, and there were several other spots where his suit had red stains beginning to soak the fabric, the actual material unaffected due to the fact that he’d been in wolf form the entire time. Another shiver wracked through him as Time watched, and he curled slightly around his ribs, face still twisted in a wince.

Time felt his throat tighten.

What was he going to tell Malon?

“Easy pup, easy,” he soothed as Twilight tried to move, gently gathering him into his arms. Twilight flinched as he was picked up, but immediately sank into his father’s hold, brow creased. “You’re okay.”

“D-dad...” Twilight breathed, then flinched when Time felt his hand along his side. He could feel at least one cracked rib, more likely broken.

Twilight’s breath hitched, but he managed to open his eyes and blearily meet Time’s gaze, still clutching at his forehead.

“I-I couldn’t...”

“I know, it’s not your fault,” Time soothed, and ran a hand through Twilight’s sweaty bangs. “Brainwashing is the Twinrova’s specialty. You did an admirable job resisting them, pup. No one could have done better.”

“...they gone?” Twilight murmured, hope in his eyes, and Time glanced around once before nodding.

“Yes. Though I doubt for good. We should get you somewhere safe,” he said softly.

Twilight’s breath hitched again as Time began to stand, and Time himself swayed dangerously as he got up, but he managed to keep his balance, and used just enough of his powers to easily hold Twilight in his arms.

He wasn’t able to hold back his hiss of pain as he began to walk though, and Twilight, despite his dazed state, picked up on it, eyes catching on the blood on his arm and the limp in his gait.

Realization flitted across his face, and Time saw the exact moment the guilt hit him, a short intake of breath accompanying it.

“I’m-m sorry,” Twilight mumbled in a distraught voice, and Time merely pulled him closer, holding him tight as he continued to plod forward.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he replied in a whisper, closing his eyes.

And I have everything.

#there are some fluffy ones coming so if you prefer that do not fear XD #incredibles au #lu time #lu twilight #tw injury #tw brainwashing #??? #linked universe fanfic #writing from the floor #answers from the floor #anon #I hope you enjoyed it anon 👍 #incredibles au fic

[thewayofthemandalorian]

dreams dashed and divided - chapter six

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Rating: M

Chapter Rating: M

Word count: 4,874

Notes: A lot happens in this chapter. Lots of information and revelations are discovered. This has one of my favourite scenes in the entire fic, so I’ve been particularly excited to share this one. It’s another heavy chapter in parts like the previous one was but we’re almost in the home stretch. I hope you enjoy!

This fic is cross-posted to AO3 under the same name and my taglist can be found linked in my bio as well as my masterlist which is linked below.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Canon-typical violence, stabbing, drugs/medicine (morphine-adjacent), fear, distress, death mention, loss of parents mention, grief/mourning, angst, near-death experiences, passing sexual references,  age gap: older man/younger woman (in flashbacks reader is 20 to Din’s 27, and in current day is 29 to his 36).

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (din djarin)

“I’m sorry I shot you,” you say, your voice gravelly. “And for… saying what I said that first day when you came to find me.” 

Your head is leaning against his shoulder, his pauldron removed for your comfort. One of his hands is in yours, the other on your leg. 

“It’s fine…” he pauses, considers. “…Cyar’ika,” he says hesitantly. You missed hearing him call you that. “You were angry with me. You had every right to be.”

You sigh and close your eyes. “Will you ever tell me the whole side of your story?” It isn’t that you don’t believe him—you do, but you’re missing information that would give you the entire picture. 

Mando’s quiet for a long minute. Considering. “Yes. Not right now, though. Let’s wait until we get out on the other side of this. We have enough to worry about.”

You can agree with that. Around a yawn, you ask, “Why did Xi’an end up in a New Republic prisoner transport ship by your hand? And how?”

He’s asked himself that very question. “I considered killing her,” he admits. “It would have been easy to, but I knew that would be the easy way out. I wanted her to live with herself, knowing that there will be no redemption or getting out of this. She’ll have to live the rest of her sorry life with the knowledge of what she’s done and the consequences of those actions. As for the how, I… found myself having to work with her recently against my better wishes. Aside from the obvious, she double crossed me on this job and I gave her some long overdue comeuppance.” 

You nod against his shoulder. “‘S a good reason.” You yawn again. 

“Go to sleep, cyar’ika. I’m not going anywhere. You need your energy for tomorrow.” 

You mumble something. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I can go without sleep for a little while.”

You’re just on the cusp of sleep when an ember from the fire pops, making you jump. 

“It’s all right,” Mando reassures. There’s a pause. “Gimme a second.” Untangling himself from you for a second, he unclips his cloak and wraps it around you. “There,” he murmurs. You hum sleepily as he puts an arm around you. 

You must fall asleep because the next thing you know, the sun is just beginning to peek its way over the horizon. Mando has moved you so that you’re lying down, his cloak still wrapped around you; vaguely you remember him coaxing you onto the ground so that you can rest easier. You blink slowly. The others are still asleep. Glancing at Karga and his crew, your hackles raise. You don’t trust him. His answers were too easy last night. 

Mando’s still sitting on the log, statue-still. You wonder if he might be asleep. Now that you’re beginning to wake up, the ground is hard and uncomfortable. You need to stretch. Get ready for today. Stretching your legs, you pull the cape off you and drape it over Mando’s lap. You lower your head so it’s touching the top of his helmet, put a light hand on his shoulder. He stirs. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper apologetically. 

“‘S fine. I need to get up anyway. We need to get going.” 

The words of last night hang between you. Not in a necessarily uncomfortable way. It’s clear to both of you that there’s still more to be said. Now is not the time to say them. You’ll have time later, though how much time, you’re not sure as he’s still bringing you back to Kijimi when this is over. 

Not for the first time since being picked up by Mando, you wonder what it would have been like if things had gone according to plan. You’ve wondered that a lot over the years.

- - - - 

Nine years ago, 0ABY

“Mando made me an offer last night,” you whisper to Zarah as you’re getting ready to open the cantina for the day. Your friend looks at you expectantly. “He’s joining the Guild of Bounty Hunters on Nevarro and he wants me to be his partner,” you say excitedly. 

Zarah raises her eyebrows. “Wow,” she says. Though she tries to hide it, she’s clearly not impressed. “Did you say yes?”

You nod, unperturbed by her cynicism. “I’m finally getting out of here.” 

She makes a noncommittal sound. “You as a bounty hunter, though?” she asks, giving you a once-over. “Can’t really see it, no offense. Just… doesn’t seem like you,” she remarks. 

Ignoring the jab, you say, “That part doesn’t really matter. I’m finally getting out of here, Zarah.” 

Zarah can tell there’s no dissuading you. “When are you going?” she asks. 

“Mando had to go and finalize everything with Karga, turn in a bounty as well. He didn’t specify. A few days at most.” 

Little did you know, the bounty that Mando was charged with was Xi’an’s brother, Qin. He frightened you. They both did, but he didn’t annoy you the way Xi’an did. The sooner he’s done with the whole lot, the better. Something you both agree on. 

“I’ll be back soon, cyar’ika,” he’d said to you the night before as you handed him your packed bag of things you could go without for a week. Clothes, trinkets. “I’ll take care of everything and we’ll be seeing the galaxy together in no time.” You had leaned up and kissed him on the cheek of his helmet. 

“I’m glad you’re excited,” Zarah’s voice interrupts your memory, “but are you really sure that this is a good idea?” 

You roll your eyes. “Yes. It’s something I want to do. And when have I ever done anything that I want to do?” For once, she doesn’t have an answer. “We’ve been living in fear and in hopelessness and misery for a long time. When the rebels destroyed the Death Star a few months ago, it felt like the possibility of something new. Is it so selfish to hope for a better life? To strive for it? To do something for myself for once? This is my chance to do that. With someone that I lo—really like.” 

That shuts her up. “As long as you’re sure.” 

“I am.” 

“I’ll miss you,” Zarah offers honestly. “You’re the closest thing I have to a sister and you’re finally doing what we all wanted to do.” 

You give her a hug. “It’s not goodbye forever. Plus, I have to come and see you in action as the queenpin of Kijimi once Zella retires.” 

Three nights later, you’re getting ready for bed when you hear movement downstairs. Your heartbeat quickens in anticipation. 

You can’t wait for him to come up the stairs, so you go downstairs to meet him, ready to be on your way. “Mando? Is that you?” 

There’s no answer. Odd. Usually he says something in the affirmative. It’s dark. Curfew was hours ago, all the lights off. Ordinarily, you’d leave a light on for Zarah, but she spends more nights at Arden’s or Zella’s these days. 

“Who’s there?” you say.

A giggle. Xi’an. Your hackles raise and you back up, wishing you had your blaster on you. She sighs before saying, in an almost sing-song voice, “You really should have stayed out of things that don’t concern you. This will take care of that from happening again.”

That’s all you hear before a literal stab of pain erupts in your ribcage on your left side. 

Darkness. 

When you come to, minutes or hours or days later, you’re in an unfamiliar place. It takes a minute to register that you’re in Kijimi’s medcentre. You don’t feel much of anything thanks to the cocktail of morphling and bacta coursing through your bloodstream. It’s all a bit hazy, like you’re floating a bit. You think you might want to stay here. It’s warm and comfortable and it’s soft, like you’re on a cloud. Everything’s soft and blurred at the edges and you don’t think anything is capable of hurting you. There’s no pain, but there’s nothing else either. Your vision is blurry, but you think you see Mando standing over you. You blink and he comes into focus. He’s standing stock-still, barely composed. “Who?” he asks, his voice pure steel. 

Your voice is raspy; it feels like someone stuffed your throat with burlap. “Xi—” He hands you a glass of water that’s on the bedside table, helping you take a sip. You try again, voice hoarse. “Xi’an.” 

Mando doesn’t say anything and you find yourself struggling to stay awake. You need to talk to him, but first you just need to rest your eyes for a second…

When you wake up again later, Zarah is sitting at your bedside. Mando’s gone, if he was ever there to begin with. “Thank the Maker!” she breathes when she sees your eyes are open. “Don’t try to move just yet, okay? I’m going to call the medic.” 

Your eyes are hot with tears you refuse to let fall. “What happened?” you croak. 

“You were stabbed. By one of the Mandalorian’s former associates,” Zarah explains.

You vaguely remember the events that she’s describing. It seems more like a half-forgotten dream now. 

“You’re very lucky. The medic says that if the officer had been even a few minutes later in finding you, you would have died. I’m going to stay with you in the flat until you’re back on your feet.” 

That piece of information bounces off you. You notice that the bacta and the morphling has worn off. You can feel the stab wound now, practically radiating pain. 

You want to see Mando. He was here, you were sure of it. He has to come to take you away from here. You’re supposed to see the galaxy together. Just you and him. “Mando?” you dare to whisper, blinking against the hot tears that are very close to falling. 

Zarah shaking her head is all the confirmation you need. He’s not here.

The twin tears that have been threatening the entire time finally leak from your eyes and you let out a shuddering sigh, forcing yourself not to shed any more tears. He’s just delayed, that’s all. Had to go apprehend Xi’an. He’s coming for you. He’s not leaving you behind.

He promised.

You repeat those words in your mind over and over as the medic administers more bacta and morphling and you return to your hazy, dreamy cloud. 

Mando’s coming back for you.

He promised.

- - - - 

Present day, 9ABY

“Cyare, are you all right?” asks Mando. 

His voice pulls you from your memory. “I’m fine.” You shake your head, attempting to clear the memory away. 

Mando clearly wants to say more but the others are beginning to wake. You walk back to the campsite to gather what you brought along with you. 

“We should head out,” says Karga. 

The monster last night killed two of the Blurrgs, so you allow Kuiil to take the last remaining one. Mando and you walk in step a few paces back from Karga and his Guild entourage, the child right behind you in his pram, and Kuiil taking up the rear on his Blurrg.

Up ahead, you can faintly hear Karga discussing something with his Guild members in low tones. Exchanging a glance with Mando, you ask, “Do you think they are having second thoughts?” 

Mando shrugs. “Could be. Keep your eyes on them,” he instructs. 

You nod. “I will,” you reply.

Along the walk, the groupings change. By the time the town comes into view, Karga is walking alongside you and Mando and the child with the Guild members and Kuiil behind you. Karga takes a few steps forward. “I guess this is it,” he says. 

Before either you or Mando can react, Karga’s shot the Guild members behind you. You and Mando pull out your blasters as quickly as you can, the Guild members falling to the ground, dead. He holds his blasters upright, showing that he’s not intending to shoot again. That doesn’t encourage you or Mando to lower your weapons. 

“There’s something you should know,” Karga says, walking over to one of the downed members, pushing him over with his foot and kicking away the blaster before turning to face you. “The plan was to kill you and take the kid. After what happened last night, I couldn’t go through with it.” You keep your weapons aimed at him. “Go on. You can gun me down and it wouldn’t violate the code. But if you do, this child will never be safe. Let me take the child to him and then you two…” 

“No.” Mando lowers his gun. “He’s right, but he’s going about it the wrong way. The client is obsessed with getting the kid. He won’t stop until he gets him.”

“At the risk of sounding obvious, it’s a trap,” you point out. 

Mando holsters his blaster. “Take me,” he suggests. 

“What? Bring you?” Karga repeats. 

“Tell him you captured me. I’ll get close to him and take him out,” Mando explains. 

Greef likes this idea. “That could work. Give me your blaster.”

“This is insane,” you say as Mando hands over his blaster. 

Mando agrees. “It’s the only way.”

“I’m coming with you,” you insist. 

Karga is about to disagree but then he thinks of something. “You can be the one that brought him in. It would fit well with…” He gestures at the two of you. “And you can bring the child!” 

Mando shakes his head. “No way. We’re going to fool them instead.” Explaining his idea, Mando turns to Kuiil. “Can you bring the child to the ship, lock yourself in?” 

Kuiil nods. “I will protect the child.” He hands Mando a commlink and picks up the child from the pram as Mando takes out his cuffs, handing them to you. You don’t lower your gaze as you put them on him, making sure that they aren’t on too tight. The three of you walk into town in silence, the empty pram following close behind you.

After a tense, almost standoff at the entry to the town, you notice something’s not right. “Why are there so many stormtroopers?” you whisper. “I thought you said there were four.” 

“The client travels with four. Security has increased since Mando took off with the kid,” Karga replies. 

Your heart won’t stop pounding. You can practically hear it in your ears. There is so much room for error and you can’t shake your feeling of trepidation. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you murmur. 

“Me too,” Mando replies. 

You arrive at the safehouse and Karga shoves Mando in, you coming in last, your blaster pointed at Mando. Your hands are shaking. You need to summon your queenpin energy. Deep breaths. Steadying your hands, you school your features. Don’t show anyone that you’re afraid. Don’t let them see your bluff. You did this for nine years, you can do it now. 

“See?” Karga mutters. “Four stormtroopers.” He ushers Mando to a table where an old man is sitting. This must be the client. “Look what I brought you. As promised.”

The client stands. “What exquisite craftsmanship. It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans.” He touches the beskar of Mando’s chestplate almost in awe. Mando doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. You can feel the nervous tension radiating off him in waves. He turns to Karga and offers a drink. Karga agrees and you all sit down at the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice more stormtroopers coming in. You don’t hear what the client has to say. Something’s not right. 

“The Empire improves every system it touches.” You choose that minute to resume listening and you nearly crush your blaster. 

“Is that so,” you say calmly, so calm it almost unnerves you. 

Karga and Mando both turn to look at you. The client doesn’t seem bothered. “Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare it to what is happening now.” Your hand is shaking again beneath the table. “Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but destruction and chaos.” His beady eyes dart between the three of you as he speaks. He sets your skin on edge. You’d love to give this man a piece of your mind. Not just for hunting down an innocent child, but also for his views and undoubtedly what he did during Imperial rule. Does he know what happened to your father? You can’t say anything. Can’t risk anything. Not now. Were the situation different, though, there would be no stopping you. “I would like to see the baby,” the old man says suddenly. 

“Ah…” Karga smacks his lips. “It is sleeping,” he says, thinking quickly. 

This doesn’t seem to bother the Imperial officer. “We all will be quiet. Open the pram.” 

Your heart must stop. This is it. You risk a glance at Mando. Just as your fate is about to be decided, the client’s hand inches away from the control panel that would open the very empty pram, there’s radio chatter and a stormtrooper comes over to the table, whispering something in the old man’s ear. 

“Please do not think me to be rude, but I must take this call.” 

A tiny reprieve. 

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you hiss, “Give him his blaster. This is our chance.” In your panic, you missed Mando slipping his cuffs off. Karga hands Mando his blaster. “What are we going to do? There are a lot more than just four of them.” 

Karga doesn’t know what to say to that. “You get one shot,” he tells Mando in an undertone. 

You can’t hear what’s being said on the holocall. The client is speaking in hushed tones to presumably another Imperial officer. 

The client looks back and then he falls to the ground, a blaster bolt hitting him square in the chest. He’s dead. 

An explosion of noise erupts as blaster bolts start raining fire on the cantina. Mando pushes the table over, giving the three of you protection, guarding you with his body. It’s absolute carnage and chaos. Droids and stormtroopers alike going down left and right. You’re shaking so violently you’re sure you’re going to pass out. 

The blaster fire stops suddenly, just as quickly as it had started. Mando touches your arm, says your name. “Are you all right?” 

You nod shakily. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’m fine too, by the way,” Karga says. “Thank the Maker, the child isn’t here.” 

The three of you get up from your hiding spot, weapons in hand, and dart over to the viewport that’s been shot clean away. “Kuiil,” you hear Mando whisper into the commlink. “Have you made it to the ship yet?” You don’t hear the answer. “Get the kid on the ship and get him out of here. We’re pinned down!” 

None of you notice the two stormtroopers speeding away.

Outside there is a small army of death troopers, weapons out and at the ready. Another squadron of stormtroopers is quick to follow. A lot more than four. “This is bad,” you say. An understatement if ever there was. 

- - - - 

“You have something I want.”

Din Djarin is going to die here. You all are. He knows this. He runs through a list of options in his head of every possible way this could play out, and they all end the same. His only hope is that the kid gets out of here and is safe. He was ready to die for the child once before and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to keep him safe now. He made a promise and he fully intends to see this through, regardless of whether he lives or dies.

Din remembers what he said to you on Kijimi all those many years ago. About his parents and how they wouldn’t have been proud of who their son was. When he was a small boy in the days and years following their sacrifice, Din had struggled to understand the meaning of sacrifice and the importance of theirs. He found it completely unfair; their loss had left and still leaves a hole in his chest that he’s struggled to fill for almost his entire life. He only really began to understand their sacrifice when he began working with Ran and the others. The first life he took. The innocent bystanders on Alzoc-III that he’s never told anyone about. When he met you, things really started to change. He already wanted to be a better man, to better honour their sacrifice. Meeting you just gave him the push he needed. 

And then the kid came into his life. When Din was sure he was going to die protecting the child in the immediate aftermath of storming the safe house he finds himself in again, he finally understood why his parents did what they did to save him. 

He likes to think that if his parents could see him now, they would be proud of their son and the man he became out of the ashes of his former life.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not.”

He just wishes things were different. He’s dreamed of you for years. You never left his head, not for a single day; you are his greatest dream, his greatest wish unfulfilled. 

He never got a chance to tell you so many things. What happened back on Kijimi. You never got to see his face. Never got to see the galaxy with him. You’re never going to be able to truly mend fences. Grow old together. He’s going to die without ever having heard you say his name. You’re going to die afraid and alone and so far away from the people you know and it’s his fault. Again. For the second time, he’s failed you. 

“In a few moments, it will be mine.” 

All Din can do is hope that, despite the lack of response, Kuiil made it back to the Crest with the baby and they’re safely away from here. He never meant to get attached to the kid. Never meant to fall in love with you. But he couldn’t help himself. It was so easy, on both counts. He was starting to think — starting to hope — the three of you could be a little family one day. 

“It means more to me than you will ever know.” 

Din looks at you. You’re trying to put on a brave face as they set up an E-Web outside, but he knows you. He knows you so well. Your eyes say it all. You’re terrified. You know it’s over. He wants to reassure you that everything will be all right. That you’ll be safe. But he can’t make promises that he can’t keep, especially not to you. He learned that lesson long ago. He can’t fix everything. But he can at least fix one thing. You deserve to know his name before the end. His real name. He says your name, strokes your chin with his thumb. “I need to tell you something.” 

“Right now?” you manage to ask. You try to keep your voice steady, try to maintain the facade of stoicism, but Din sees right through it. 

“Yes, right now,” he says. “It’s important.” 

Rapid gunfire interrupts you. You and Mando turn to look at Karga who’s overturned a couch and is shooting at a sewer grate. He attempts to kick it in, but that does nothing. 

“Your astute panic suggests you understand your situation,” says the Imperial officer from outside. “I would prefer to avoid any further violence, and encourage a moment of consideration. Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster.” Though you saw them assemble it, your heart still sinks. The Imperial officer explains what it is and how it operates. “Perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordnance…” 

Din doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Neither do you. Din was this close to telling you. He didn’t want you to find out his name this way. In a moment of taunting and jest. He wanted to be the one to tell you. 

“Is that your name?” you breathe. “Din Djarin? Is that who you are?” 

It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, his name being spoken by you. All he can do is nod. 

“And perhaps Kijimi’s queenpin,” the man continues, saying your full name, “can speak of relatives to this heavy blaster. Given that she runs several weapons out of her cantina of similar ilk. I wonder what her dearly departed father would think of his precious daughter participating in such behaviour. Or maybe she knows of such weapons from her estranged ex-lover Din Djarin himself. The two of you have been tracked since you were reunited and engaged in what can only be described as a lovers quarrel at Kijimi’s starport before departing to Arvala-7.” You and Mando share a look, a shard of glass piercing your heart at the mention of your father. “You really should have listened to Zarah Bliss, Din Djarin,” taunts the man, “and stayed away from your darling queenpin like Miss Bliss told you to those many years ago. You were doing such a good job of it, too, staying away from her, doing as you were told. But you wanted to be with her again. You just couldn’t stay away. I can’t say that I blame you. And you, queenpin, should know better after all this time than to stick your nose in places where it doesn’t belong.”

Din’s heart sinks. This isn’t the way you were supposed to find out the rest of the story. Or at the very least, find out who’s involved with the prevention of your ill-fated reunion nine years ago. He can’t help but think this man—Moff Gideon, he thinks it might be, based on what little evidence he has—who knows so much about all of you for one reason or another, might be right. If he had listened to Zarah, you wouldn’t be in mortal danger right now. You’d still hate him and think the worst of him, think that he abandoned you and had Xi’an try to kill you, but you would be safe. You wouldn’t be about to die in a dingey, shot-out cantina with him and Greef Karga. He’s failed you, Din thinks again. Moff Gideon is right. He couldn’t stay away from you. Even if he tried. And he tried. Maker knows he tried so hard. He knows that he should have done things differently. He should have told you his name the first time he met you, should have shown you his face the first time the two of you made love. Should have ignored what Zarah Bliss said and gone back to Kijimi to take you away from there. Told you he loves you long before he did. Made you his wife. 

You turn to face Mando—Din. Confusion is now mixed with your terror in your eyes, beginning to make its way to the rest of your facial features. You can no longer retain your look of practiced stoicism. All Din wants to do is explain. Keep you safe. Protect you. He doesn’t want anything to be going the way that it is, but he doesn’t have a choice. If there is any consolation in this dire situation, it is that he has known you and your love, and that is no small thing. If he had to do it all over again he wouldn’t change much outside of the things he would do differently with you. His decisions early in life led him to you. Led him to the kid. And he wouldn’t change any of that for the entire galaxy.

“What is he talking about, Mando?” you ask, your voice sounding very far away. “What does he mean? What does Zarah have to do with—?”

Din doesn’t have a chance to answer because Moff Gideon chooses that moment to continue in his monologue. “I also advise disgraced former magistrate, Greef Karga, to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside.” The three of you share a glance of do we listen to him? “The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end.” 

Moff Gideon and Karga go back and forth for a minute and it is made very clear very quickly that you cannot trust this Imperial officer to make assurances that he will keep. Not that you did before.

“I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.” With that, he walks back to his TIE fighter, leaving the three of you alone.

You look at Din and repeat your question from a few minutes ago, knowing that now is not the time, nor do you have the time to discuss it. “What was he talking about?”

--- taglist in reblog.

#din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fan fiction #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dreams dashed and divided #my writing #my fic