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heresathreebee · 3 years

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Wearing THAT

[Dewey Finn X Female Reader]

Summary: Reader teases Dewey in a Poison Ivy costume. You have a really hard time saying exactly what you want... Masterlist Next

Word count: 3.1k words (no beta)

Warning(s): 17+ | teasing, lots of teasing and boners, lap sitting, near nudity, touching

AN: only Thots here, thots about Dewey Finn also is Ned British? He's British in my head

This was some sort of test. It had to be. God was testing him through you and you were not playing fair. It’s a costume party not a competition, you pompous little sycophant. And yet he can’t help but tug at the collar of his shirt. It’s not even anywhere near his throat but why else would he feel so constricted? It’s certainly not because of you…

You walked into his shared apartment wearing that and you had no idea the effect it had on him.

Dewey watches you sling an arm around Ned and kiss Patty’s cheek in greeting. “Hi guys! Thanks for inviting me, I’ve been dying to put this on.”

“Oh you look lovely,” Patty coos. She plucks at one of the plastic leaves on your corset. “Did you make this?! It’s so intricate.”

You bark out a laugh. “Oh hell no! I have this cousin, right? And him and his fiancé own this shop where they make costumes for movies and theatre and if you pay ‘em right, ‘personal use.’ And they don’t ask questions what ain’t their business either.”

“Well, I’m sold.” Ned raises his beer for a toast and Patty clinks it with her bottle of mysterious green juice. “Prost! What’s the name of the shop? Wanna see if they’re online– you know, for... support.”

“Ned,” Patty swatted his empty hand (no need to be shy, we already know they’re freaky).

You pat your friends on their backs and take a step towards the kitchen. “Gonna get myself a beer.”

“Oh honey you don’t have to do that. Dewey!” The man in question nearly covered himself in his own drink when he heard his name. “Be a good host and get this lady her beer!”

“Yes captain,” Dewey salutes and Patty can do nothing but glare in her Star Trek yellow shirt costume. Original series, of course, nothing but the best for Patricia Di Marco.

Dewey takes a hold of the moment he has his back to you to take deep, calming breaths. He will not let this be the end of him. Your friendship means so much more to him than that and a little fancy green corset was not going to make him fuck things up with you.

He’s ready for you when he hands you your beer. Your one arm hug is appreciated because he’s sporting a bit of wood and he’d hate to find out your corset isn’t thick enough to hide it– or god forbid you feel him on your thigh. And god, your thighs… those sheer green nylon tights were doing unspeakable things to him. Maybe if he kept you close and kept your legs out of his peripherals he could make it through the night without embarrassing himself.

Or maybe not.

“Are yoooouuu a college student?,” you ask and point at his inconspicuous clothes.

“Actually– ” he opens the buttons of his shirt to reveal another shirt with a superman logo on it and buttons it back up clumsily as you laugh. “Ssshhh! Don’t tell anybody. Protect my secret.”

“Of course,” you giggle. God you feel good hanging off him– usually he loves how physical you are but he has to figure out a way to keep his distance without offending you and quickly. “You like mine?”

The way you pick up a thick swirling red lock and direct his attention to the very thing he’s trying not to look at is killing him. Of course you look even better up close. The leaves of your corset give the thing depth and texture, your gloves are fingerless and go over your elbows, and your heels are high, like make- him- feel- his- below- average- height high.

“I like these.” Dewey plucks at the ring of leaves at the top of your gloves. It’s a way to keep his mind off your everything else. “Did you dye your hair?”

“It’s a wig.” You tug on the top and then the bottom, wincing a little. “Sew in, so don’t go snatch it.”

“I would never!”

“Poison Ivy, eh? Think that’s one of Dewey’s favorites,” Ned blabs.

Dewey sends him a death glare so powerful Ned chokes on his beer but you’re looking at your Spock-dressed friend so you can’t see it.

“Oh, really?” You return your gaze to Dewey and say, “well you must be loving this, then.”

Dewey swallows. No words come to him and there is nothing to stop the awkward silence that follows. You appear unbothered by it, maintaining eye contact as you smile almost knowingly…

“We should play twister,” he says with the most unsure voice ever.

“We don’t even have twister,” Patty mumbled. “Come on, there are like twenty other games setup, let’s play!”

Dewey gives it a minute and when he’s free from you, he catches Ned by his pointy green ear and drags him into the hall. “Hey? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Whah– what are you talking about?” Ned slaps at the hand fisted in his shirt but Dewey doesn’t budge.

“You can’t just go telling people I’m into them, dude! Do you know how close you came to giving me away?!”

Ned scoffed. “Her? I hardly think she’s ignorant to your feelings, you’re not like that Steven from Austin fellow.”

“– Are you talking about stone cold Steve Austin?"Dewey buries his face in his hands- "It’s his last name, not his birthplace–”

“And besides…” Ned peeks around the corner to see you in the middle of some sort of posing game. Everybody's trying to take the form of some sort of vehicle, and you've got Chloe in a headlock and Vance's leg in the other hand. Ned never got to finish his thought because someone dropped a huge bowl of popcorn and that too became a game of ‘how many can you eat off the floor before Patty cleans it up.’ Ned’s got to help and he’s got to help now.

Dewey finds himself on the couch with his fifth beer of the evening. Vance, Jeremiah, and Chloe are talking baseball stats when suddenly Dewey’s vision is filled with green and red just before you sit down. Right between his legs. He unconsciously scoots up to make room for you and before he catches on to your game, you nestle into his space by the arm of the couch and sling your legs across his like you belong there.

Ok, something is definitely up with you.

Would he describe you as cuddly? A little. Perhaps a more appropriate word would be… hands on. Long before he started wanting more than friendship with you, you two were always just touching. Your presence and your love language was physical. Dewey never felt like you were invading his personal space or overstepping his boundaries because he simply had none with you and the feeling was mutual. But this was something else. Something that wasn’t there before.

Was it him? Was he fucking up his perfectly in sync companionship with you because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants or (his heart for that matter)? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag you closer or push you flat on your ass right now.

You were listening to Chloe chew Vance out for hating Gritty the mascot when you felt Dewey plant a hand on your forehead. “Hey, are you feeling ok?”

You gently shake him off and raise a single eyebrow. He seems serious, his voice gone all soft and making you feel gooey inside.

“You just seem… I dunno,” he fumbles, “do you want me to take you home after this?”

Hellooooo opening! “Actually, can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fuck, who said that? Dewey? Ah, shit…

“Thanks,” oh oh you should not be rubbing his thigh right now… “I think I’ll go change here in a minute.”

Oh please do, please please puh-leeaaase–

After a brilliant movie drinking game (which Dewey tapped out of), the crowd began to disband. 24 became 20, then 18, then 12. You went out to your car to grab your overnight stuff and Dewey was hoping for a brief reprieve from the assault of your visage. He just needed a few more people to leave so he can sequester himself and rub one out– you know, get his head straight. Ever since you left his lap he’s been rock hard, there’s not enough blood flowing to his brain. The guest count is down to 3– 2 with you in your car, and he can’t wait anymore.

Dewey slipped into the only bathroom in the house and prayed to god nobody noticed him. He barely got his hand wrapped around his shaft when Patty’s fist banged on the door demanding he help clean up. Sulking and agitated, Dewey managed to calm down while cleaning up red solo cups, glass beer bottles, cans, and small pocket sized objects that would need to be returned to the guests after their hangovers subsided (no keys, thankfully, everybody’s got a DD). His “predicament’ is nearly forgotten when you finally return with a bundle of clothes, disappear into the bathroom and reemerge in loose sleepwear with your makeup wiped clean and uh… braless.

You catch him looking. Dewey– surprisingly sober after he gave up drinking half way through his sixth beer– does nothing short of raise a slightly irritated eyebrow at you. “Cold in here, huh?”

“Shut up. You know how uncomfortable it is to sleep in a bra?”

You help him collect a couple bottles that rolled under the couch and walk with him down to Ned’s car. Patty would sort the recyclables from the trash in the morning (late morning, she did a couple rounds of tequila shots thanks to you). It’s almost like the party never happened; you’re shooting the shit again and everything is right in the world. He’s got no ulterior reaction to putting a hand on your hip– that’s just a normal thing in your perfectly platonic relationship. God, he really must have been imagining things, he was beginning to think you were actually trying to flirt with him!

Ned’s bent over the kitchen sink with Patty and holding her hair back. He looks up as you enter the apartment and shakes his head. You and Dewey make yourself scarce by slipping into the shared bathroom to hide. You try to giggle quietly as Dewey surveys the skincare products you covered the counter with. He points to your head and asks, “you wearing that to bed?”

“It’s sewed in, I’m not taking this off for three weeks at least,” you answer. “Get my money’s worth. I can work it like my natural hair.”

Dewey nods. You rub your arm nervously and look for something to say, something to circle back to the whole point of showing up looking like a sexed up goddess. What do guys like? Girls wearing their clothes, right? But you need to phrase it perfectly…

“Dewey?” He looks up from the scrubby lip balm in his hands. “I’m not quite ready to go to sleep yet and it… it is a little chilly in your place. Can I wear your jacket?”

Just to bring your meaning home, you tug on his sleeve– the very jacket on his back. You don’t want just any jacket, you want that one, already warm and scented by him. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance past you like he was reluctant to comply. And yet…

“Yeah, here.” He slips out of it with ease and drapes it over your shoulders. You miss the sigh of relief he makes when you pull the zipper closed and obscure your pebbling nipples. “Think I’m gonna go help Ned put Patty to bed.”

Ned was a scrawny little thing and couldn’t carry her by himself, and she needed to be carried. Competitive by nature, it’s easy to talk her into virtually anything, especially if it feels like girl time. You need Patty in a deep sleep for your plans tonight (sorry not sorry). Dewey’s very sexy as he bears most of Patty’s weight. She’s clinging to Ned, arms around his neck and babbling incoherently while Dewey’s got an arm around her waist and legs, keeping Ned on his feet. You skirt ahead of them and open the bedroom door, help pull her shoes off, her captain insignia, her earrings, you even wipe the spit from her lips and the eyeliner smeared on her cheek.

“You’re my favorite ever,” she whimpers, “I love you so much, you’re like my best friend ever…”

You shush her gently. “You say that about everybody when you’re drunk, baby. I promise I’ll make you a fat breakfast in the morning but you gotta go to sleep now, OK?”

Patty nods. She snuggles into her pillow just as Ned is taking up position as the big spoon when she looks back up at you and asks, “can we go for a run together?”

You blink evenly. “Yes.” You already regret it as she smiles big and wide. It would be just your luck this is the one thing she doesn't forget in the morning.

Finally it's just you and Dewey in the hallway. It feels like you're standing between two choices: his open bedroom door and the living room. But it seems like only you can feel the weight of it.

"Are you sure you want to stay over?," Dewey asks, "you can use my bed."

You perk up out of your heavy mood. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'll take the couch tonight."

He can't possibly miss the way you instantly deflate but he's still not putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "Dewey. I'm not going to kick you out of your own room."

He shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll grab a few blankets."

There's a storage closet in the main building with this one extra soft blanket that Dewey knows you'll love. You on the other hand have got no more patience left. Once the man leaves, you stomp your foot and decide to try one final act.

Dewey returns to the apartment to find an empty, quiet living room. Ned and Patty are in bed, but where are you? He wanders past the bathroom door because it's dark inside and checks his room. There you are reclining on his bed. He could have sworn you were wearing pants before but your legs are bare and his jacket hugs the tops of your thighs. He also could have sworn you were wearing a shirt. He finds both items folded neatly beside you with your underwear right on top.

Oh…

This cannot be happening right now. He just survived tonight by the skin of his teeth and now you were doing this to him. He’s going to pull his hair out, going to scream, it’s so frustrating because he can’t just ask you what you want– you’ll turn the question back on him and he’ll fuck it up. He lets the blanket fall from his grip and with a heavy sigh he whispers in a weak voice, “straight answers only. What are you doing to me? Why you doin’ this?”

You cock your head and answer leisurely, your eye drifting across the items in his room. “You know that’s not how I roll, but if you want me to address the elephant in the room: I'm naked in your bed right now."

Against his better judgement, Dewey moves closer. "I can see that."

One step closer and your eyes find him again. Like an invitation you lean back more, even uncross your legs but go no further. Dewey swallows his tongue and waits for you to elaborate and every second is agonizingly slow.

"You think you can just walk around here with your pretty face and cocky little attitude like it’s nothing,” you said accusingly.

Dewey glared at you. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Well we're in agreement then,” you’re almost sneering at him, but he knows it’s because you’re really frustrated with yourself, “I look and I touch and I feel but I don’t know, you know?”

“Not a clue,” he sighs and sits himself beside you. He’s done trying to keep his distance. “Let’s go back to you being naked in my bed.”

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?,” he repeats incredulously. Dewey leans back on his elbow to look you over from top to bottom. You look damn good in nothing but his jacket. You’ve got the long ends of your red hair in braids that sweep down to your navel. The zipper rests tantalizingly right below your ribcage. Dewey dares to reach out a mollifying hand and give a tiny stroke to that silver keeper. He cannot bring himself to speak above a whisper as he nods, “yeah, I… I like it.”

The tension leaves your shoulders and you wear a small grin. “It’s not too late to take it back. Say no, and I’ll put my clothes back on and sleep on the couch like none of this ever happened. This,” you point between the two of you, “doesn’t change unless we want it to.”

… this was real. In answer, Dewey’s chin wrinkles and he watches his finger travel upwards, drawing a light line up the expanse of your chest between your breasts to feel you shiver at his touch. Thing is he doesn’t want to say no, but wouldn’t it be better? Safer? He asks the question he’s been dying to know all night. “What do you want from me?”

“Whatever I can get,” you answer truthfully. “Whatever you’ll allow. Don’t trouble yourself with labels and things ‘cause what we have has always been so much more than that.”

Dewey feels a weight lift off of his chest. His hand works around your waist and drags you closer, halfway under him and he rests his perspiring forehead on your breastbone. Whatever happens next happens, for better or for worse.

You’re not troubled when Dewey moves the jacket to expose one of your breasts, however you are taken aback when he bites you. You barely manage to stifle your yelp when you feel him growl against your flesh and the sound vibrates straight to your core. Dewey drags his head up and stares you dead in the eye as he kneads your savaged breast.

“All night,” he growls, “all fucking night for this? We could have done this ages ago. The salon, the drive in, Chloe’s cat’s birthday– grocery shopping last week. But no, instead you pick a party full of people and you’ve had me riled up for hours.”

Dewey pinches your hardened peak and you keen. “‘m sorry…”

“No you’re not, but don’t worry: you will be.”

AN: Check Out Part 2 @hoodoo12 @go-commander-kim @escape-your-grape @softbeej @imma-fucking-nerd @werwulfy

#Dewey Finn #Dewey Finn x reader #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒#black reader insert #🖤❤💛#dewey finn x female reader

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entishramblings · 4 years

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The Rings and Jewels Upon Your Ears - Sensitive Elf Ears [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: hey guys! here is another one shot about our favorite blue eyed elf that I wrote while procrastinating my fanfic because writers block!!! So enjoy this short fic about sensitive elf ears bc I am, and always will be, a slut for elf ear fics oop. Also if you do not have earrings I’m so sorry this was just an idea!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: Girl falls into middle earth and the elves of Mirkwood are confused about her earrings; most find it distasteful, but Legolas is fascinated!

Word Count: 2,246

Warnings: heated kissing (nothing further)

*all elvish was looked up online from numerous sources so please dont hate if it is not entirely correct*

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N)‘s stomach dropped and queasiness overtook her as she plummeted through the cold air. She tried to grasp onto something—anything—to stop her from plunging to her death. But no matter how much she reached outward, the only thing she held in her hands was dewy water and moisture—for the only thing to grasp was dark gloomy clouds. (Y/N)’s limps felt limp as freezing rain collected on her skin, soaking her to the bone; Her wet hair whipped around her face like an over-sized mop in a miniature tornado, inviting the thick strands to get stuck in her mouth. Her whole body was numb from the cutting cold as she spun downward. To make matter worse, she was 89% sure she had lost a shoe as her one foot felt significantly colder.

(Y/N) didn’t think the circumstance could possibly get more terrifying as her heart was already struck with paralyzing fear; but alas, it was just her luck. A brilliant bolt of light shuttered from the sky, zapping through the air right next to her. She was sure she could feel the electricity rushing through her blood as the thin hairs on her arm stood up.

This was it. This was how she would go out.

Suddenly, pain erupted up her spine. She felt her nerves become overloaded with intense agony that extended through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut.

It was over. She had hit the ground. She had met her end.

But when (Y/N) opened her eyes, she saw grey stone high above her.

She groaned loudly as she pulled her body into sitting position. Her back ached slightly but the pain was not anywhere near as severe as her shock. How was she not dead....or was this death? Her curious eyes wandered in examination of her surroundings. She was in a large dark corridor that had big archways and extravagantly carved doors scattered amongst the sides in an orderly pattern. The air felt eerie and sinister as she stumbled over the abandoned, smooth, stone floor. Anxiety crept into her soul.

So this what was the invitation of death felt like.

Alone, soaking wet, missing a shoe, and shrouded with fear.

How lovely.

(Y/N) was pulled from her thoughts as chaos surrounded her and grabbed her upper arms. This chaos was tall, long haired, strikingly gorgeous, and many in number. These strange people encircled her and bound her wrists while hollering words in a language she didn’t understand.

Her head spun, what was going on? was this the afterlife? if so, it was quite weird.....

She was in a daze as they dragged her through hallway after hallway; taking so many twists and turns she would never be able to find her way back—not that going to that spot again would help anything. Where ever she was, there was no escape.

(Y/N) was brought forth in front of a long blonde haired man highly decorated in silk and jewels. He sat upon a winding wooden throne and an elaborate crown made of branches and berries rested upon his head. In one word, any individual would describe him as: regal.

The peculiar people pushed her to her knees as he spoke. Words flowed from his mouth with a smooth, deep, and intimidating tone; but those words meant nothing to her as they were completely foreign to her brain.

Silence feel between them as they looked upon her, waiting. Waiting for what?!

He spoke again, anger and irritation tumbling from his lips.

Suddenly her head was grasped by warm hands and roughly tilted upwards and to the side. Her eyes met those of another that were strikingly blue. She gasped, from the shock and the slight pain that radiated through her neck. Another hand that did not belong to the man above her pulled her locks from her face. They all looked at her ear intently. Weird kink?

The one who freed her ear from the sopping mess she called hair spoke, “Est a- an elleth, ach nad othren est lheweg (she is a female elf, but something strange is upon her ear).”

Whatever he said, it was the cause of her head being viciously tilted once again.

The King hollered at her a second time, his displeasure and irritability obvious.

(Y/N) attempted to pull from the blue eyed man’s grasp but failed exceptionally, for his grip was taught.

More harsh words were thrown at her and the hold upon her squeezed tighter—initiating pain.

A slight whimper escaped her lips. The blue eyes above her seemed regretful and their owner drew his eyebrows together in concern and confusion.

(Y/N) looked up at him, her gaze meeting his.

“Please...” she whispered ever so quietly; she wasn’t even sure he could have heard her.

Instantaneously, his hands fell from their hold and the blue pooled with intrigued perplexity.

He spoke, his voice was powerful and commanding. “She speaks the common tongue.”

She felt the eyes of those around her pouring into her soul with confusion and the yearn for answers.

“What is the point of and elf who doesn’t understand Sindarian?” The regal figure spoke.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in bewilderment. “An elf?”

The King rolled his eyes, “Yes that is what you are, is it not? The tips of ears do not lie. Now speak quickly who sent you and how did you gain entrance?”

She looked about her dumbfounded as her gaze searched all the individuals ears—all pointy. Elves? When it dawned on her that she hadn’t answered the question, she spoke, “Sent me? I don’t even know where I am!”

Silence fell between every individual in the room and the tension lingered; she felt the agitation seeped into her skin as a shiver rippled through her body.

The King tilted his head slightly as he examined her. Only then did she realize just how unusual they really were. Their clothing was bizarre—old fashioned—and they were loaded with weapons; but no guns were in sight, they held bows in their callused hands and knives were strapped upon them. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought she fell into the past. But that would be impossible. However, one thing was certain: she couldn’t be dead.

“What did you do to your ear?” The King questioned.

She frowned, suddenly remembering her immediate reality, “You—you mean my earrings?”

“Yes, the rings and jewels upon your ears.”

(Y/N) was taken aback. What a strange question. She had a large amount of earrings; at least 8 or 9 on each side, placed differently on each ear. Did he not know of piercings? How big was the rock that these people lived under?

She chose her words carefully, by the way he spoke she figured he would not understand her normal slang. “They are for decoration—for beauty.”

He spoke again but his tone laced with disgust, “Why would you desecrate yourself in such a way?”

(Y/N) was filled with confusion. This was a normal custom where she was from. Quite rude for him to insult her in such a way.

When she offered no response the King turned to the man....or elf shall she say....that had held her taught. “Legolas, lock her in the dungeons.”

(Y/N) felt a lump in her throat. Dungeons....that could never be good.

The blonde elf pulled her up gently and led her away with other guards pursuing them closely. More winding halls and steep stairs became her only sight as she was ushered along.

......

The metal bars slammed in her face as she felt numb misery confine her soul. Was this to be her life now?

As the elves filtered out, one stayed behind. Legolas, she recalled his name. He was quite tall, but alas, they all were tall to (Y/N) for she had always been considered small. His face was proportional and structured as the shadows from the torches danced upon his form. His jaw line was sharp and defined while he stood before her with confidence. He definitely had a position of authority, she thought. Furthermore, His dark eyebrows were a contrast to his sleek blonde hair that was held back by three simple braids; but it did not look unfitting, rather it was quite suitable. His light pink lips were pulled into a line as his blue orbs gazed upon her. She could see him pondering the circumstances.

He spoke lightly, no animosity upon his tone. “You are not from here, are you?”

(Y/N) nodded. Her world felt so far away and the hopes of returning faded into the shadows as despair stretched across the corners of her mind.

......

Many months had past of (Y/N) living in a cell. Within this time, she had become quite friendly with Legolas—who she had found out was the son of the King. However, the blue eyed elf was nothing like his father. For starters, on the first night she arrived he brought her fresh clothing and a towel to dry her soaked self. Legolas was kind and patient. When she threw the fabrics back at him—screaming and hollering to be released—he did not lash out; she had a suspicion any other would. Looking back, (Y/N) realized that he must have suspected her entire world was turned upside down. I mean how often do you find out you had a species change and were transported to a different sphere of reality?

The Elven Prince came to visit her often and they would have long conversations. She told him of where she came from and he taught her of the new world she now lived in. He tutored her in the language of the elves—Sindarin—and spoke of their ways. They were creatures of intense, impressive, and impeccable skill who lived immortal lives. She could feel her senses heightening and improving as the day’s went on and her muscles began to strengthen. It took long for (Y/N) to wrap her head around her new reality; and how she became of it, she knew not.

It was evening when Legolas came to visit her once again. She smirked at him from behind the bars, “What do you have to bring me this time?”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lip. He held up a large, dark green book and slipped it through the metal shafts. “The history of Middle Earth. Teach yourself wisely.”

She grinned, “Thank you, Legolas.”

He turned to leave for he had other duties that his father insisted upon, but he hesitated. Legolas rotated his body to look at (Y/N) once more. His gaze lingered upon her exposed ears as her hair was tied back in a tight braid.

He spoke softly, “Did it hurt?”

Her brows knitted together, “Did what hurt?”

“Your ears—the jewelry.”

She shook her head, “No not really? Why do you ask?”

He took a couple steps towards her and a slight chuckled escaped his mouth, “An elf’s ears are very....sensitive.”

She tilted her head, “What do you mean?”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment as he eliminated the space between himself and the bars.

“May I?”

(Y/N) took a step closer, so she too was against the thick metal rods. She could feel his hot breath upon her face as he looked down at her; She was sure he could hear her heart pounding for elves could pick up any sound—she could hear his. Legolas raised a hand through the bars and gently cupped one side of her face. He lightly touched the tip of her ear and trailed his finger down. (Y/N) gasped as the sensation shuttered throughout her entire being. She could see his blue eyes shift to her lips before locking back with her eyes once again. (Y/N) lifted her hand through the bars, her expression begging to commit the same action.

“(Y/N), you know not what you will do to me.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him. She did not heed his warning one bit; she grazed her finger along the edge of his ear.

Without warning both his hands flew through the bars; one wrapping around her waist and the other clutching her face. He forcefully yanked her body into his and smashed his lips against hers, both their faces pressing against the cold metal. The taste of mint and honey melded in her mouth as their lips moved in a gently rhythm, dancing against each other. (Y/N) snaked her arms up his chest, feeling the firm muscles underneath his tunic, until she wrapped them around his neck—tangling her hands in his soft hair. She felt a heat rise from her stomach to her chest as she hungrily moved her mouth with his. When Legolas’s teeth tugged on her bottom lip, nearly all her thoughts silenced and her desire for him grew. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue entrance; they battled for dominance.

Suddenly, the warmth was torn from her. Legolas pulled his head back and turned his face from her, but his hands would not move from their grasp. (Y/N)’s swollen lips parted as doubt flooded her, had she done something wrong?

His voice was one of a growl, “Look what you do to me.” His breathing was heavy and his chest was rising and falling. He turned his attention back to her, “You allow me to divulge in my impulses.”

(Y/N) smirked, “Is that such a bad thing?”

Legolas leaned his forehead against hers and he gave her a lopsided grin, “Never.”

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nagia-pronounced-neijia · 3 years

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w(h)ip wednesday

It's a surprisingly quaint little farm, the kind of thing some traveller from the far-away west might paint into his little journal and tell all the Belgians and Austrians and French about. Green hills rise up in a gentle roll, with occasional stones that must have tumbled down from God-knows-where, looking pushed up through the grass and the barley like crooked teeth. Sheep meander among the gray rocks, bleating occasionally to each other and munching on the plants.

As they step past the low wooden fence, Trevor spots a goat chewing cud in a pen. It stares disinterestedly at them, eyes gleaming with that peculiar mix of cunning and stupidity native to goats. If it was ever a person, their mind seems long gone, he thinks, replaced by a goat's determination to be the biggest pain in the arse it possibly can.

They keep going and find a yard full of chickens. Here chickens, there chickens, everywhere fucking chickens. Mostly roosters, judging by the wattles, which he finds odd, and when Sypha steps too close to a hen, one of the stupid cockerels jumps at her. His wings flutter, feathers flying further than he can, and he seems determined to murder her with talon, beak, or both. He makes the most insane noises as he does it, like metal screaming.

It's instinct to try and put himself between her and something trying to hurt her. Even something as small and stupid and surprisingly vicious as a pissed-off chicken. He raises his arms to block the pecks and scratches, glad of the fur-and-leather vambraces, thick enough that he feels nothing.

"Calm the hell down," Trevor says, and puts a boot to the bird, which doesn't improve his disposition, exactly, but does manage to make him reconsider attacking. "I'll do it again," Trevor warns him, and immediately feels like an idiot.

But the rooster subsides, sulky, glaring at them both with beady eyes.

And the cabin door swings open. The woman who steps outside isn't quite pretty, but she's striking. He thinks her nose might have been broken, once, and her hair falls loose around her shoulders in a riot of deep red that catches in the sun.

But it's her hands he's most interested in, and, just like every family book always said, they tell the real story to him immediately.

Her face may look youngish -- certainly only of middle years -- but her hands, too pale, have wrinkles and liver spots, a sure sign of a witch. The deep, nearly black bruising that extends from the nail to the second knuckle of her littlest fingers, however, is the mark of a witch who has embraced questionable magic, if not outright reveled in the foulest and blackest of workings.

Beside him, Sypha moves to wave one arm. "You must be Sârșe," she says, and he can hear that she's smiling.

The woman inclines her head. "I am. And who might you be?"

"I"m Sypha, and this is Trevor." She jabs at him with an elbow. He doesn't jab back, but mostly because he's trying to figure Sârșe out.

"Hello," he says, about a second after Sypha's pointy elbow makes contact a second time.

Sârșe watches them both. Absolutely no emotion colors her face. Even her eyes look flat and lifeless, no more interested in them as people than the goat had been. "What have you come to find?"

He sighs. "Oh, we found it already."

"Trevor," Sypha hisses.

But Trevor ignores her. "Look, we know you're a witch. Well, Sypha suspects. But I know. And I don't care about the whole," here, he makes a sort of quotation mark with the fingers of both hands, "'demons into chickens' thing. Not sure anybody should be eating those, but it's not my business."

The very furthest corner of Sârșe's mouth curls up for about a second before smoothing back down. Her gaze remains flat. "And what is your business?"

"I'm not saying I expect you to turn them all back, mind, because I know that's not how it works. But how many of your sheep used to be people?"

He's a little relieved when, rather than hotly deny it, Sârșe licks her lips. "All of them," she says, calmly, like she doesn't care at all.

Well, that explains at least one of her fingers. Hell, he's a little surprised it hasn't spread further.

Sypha's the one to step forward and ask, "Do you have any plans to stop?"

Sârșe stares between them for what feels like several minutes. It's probably not even a whole minute of its own, but it sinks its teeth into him and drags. Her eyes look like empty wells, endless and awful.

"No," she says, still very calm.

"Told you," he mutters to Sypha. "When they're this far gone, they don't really listen to reason."

That draws Sârșe's attention. She snaps her head to look at him. Something even darker stirs in her dark eyes, moving and shifting, and they bite into him. He doesn't look away, but he wants to, because eyes like those see, and the brain behind them judges, and men are always found wanting in a gaze like that.

Found wanting and then turned into farm animals. And then potentially sold at fucking market day, to be slaughtered and eaten. Christ.

"Do you think yourself such a hero, Trevor Belmont?"`

He lets out a short bark of a laugh. "I helped kill fucking Dracula, sure. But what I was really doing was helping a man kill his own father. What kind of hero is that?"

She repeats the question back at him, emphasizing it. "What kind of hero is that, Trevor Belmont?"

"No kind at all," he replies.

And, for the first time, she smiles. It's terrible and pitying. "Will you kill fucking Sârșe? And if you do, what will you really have done?"

Sypha fields this one. "We'll have stopped animals that used to be people being sold and eaten by those who once knew them. You have to admit that's grotesque."

"I admit no such thing. They know who I am. They know the consequence of crossing me. They know what I bring to market day. They choose to buy from me regardless. Their business is no business of mine."

God, witch logic. It's all perfectly factual, but frustratingly circular in a way he can't put words to. A sort of pure, unfeeling truth that leaves no room for honesty or humanity. Infuriating.

"Yeah, done with you, now," Trevor says, and draws the Vampire Killer. Consecration is little good against witches except in their hands, but the Morningstar would be worse than useless.

Where's a rowan branch when you need one? Not that there would be a single rowan tree on this property; they would have all died the first time she took a piss here. Hell, if he were half the Belmont that Sypha thinks he is, he'd have a fucking pouch of salt on him, and he doesn't. Their salt is in the wagon with their goddamned cooking supplies.

Sypha conjures a ring of fire, driving away all the chickens and other animals from the farm, and Sârșe's eyes widen for a moment. She looks between them again, gaze darting from Sypha to Trevor, trying to determine if the Belmont or the fellow magician is the bigger threat.

She apparently decides on him, because she flings an arm out and tries to drag him toward her.

Trevor, more used to this sort of thing by now than he likes, drops forward. He lets himself fall, and feels the grip of the spell break as his weight pulls him away from it. His hands hit the ground first, and he pulls himself into a roll, coming up on one knee.

He lashes out with the whip, half-turning to improve its force as he lets his arm flow then jerks his wrist. The line sings out, tip whistling, and the metal end bites into her hand.

Her finger flies away, landing with a sort of wet, useless noise in the dirt.

Sârșe doesn't even scream. She just looks between her now maimed hand and the finger on the ground.

"That was very stupid," she says, somehow wholly unbothered by the fact that he just tore off part of her hand, a part she probably uses pretty often. She raises the same hand, even as it bleeds, and makes a curling gesture with her remaining fingers.

Once again something grips him, trying to pull him closer.

When she raises her other hand, Sypha slides sideways, colliding with one of the wooden fences. It cracks with the force she hits it at, splintering.

He's not thinking when he sends the whip out again. It's anger that drives him to it, and this time, he gets her in one of those tainted, blackened littlest fingers, and Sârșe screams. At first it's just a gurgling sound of pain, thin and high, like any woman might make when a man reached out and hurt her because he could.

But then it turns to something else. Something thick and strange sounding, that scratches at his ears and the air around him.

"I name you worm, that crawls in the dust," Sârșe says. "I name you dog, that licks his master's hand. I name you cock, that lords himself over nothing. I name you buck-goat, that ruts and farts, and I name you pig, that wallows in shit."

Absolutely no imagination on the woman. He supposes whatever demon she serves, or made a deal with, or whatever, has probably long eaten it. "People have really got to find worse things to call me."

Sârșe laughs. "What a strange worry," she says casually. "But needless. You'll call yourself all those things, in the end, and worse." And she raises both hands, and this time, she really does manage to pull him in, mostly because he lets her.

Once he's close, she smears her blood on his cheek and smiles that terrible, pitying, dark-eyed smile, and the empty wells of her eyes stare at him, judgmental, even as he sinks one of his knives into her throat.

He pays no attention to the witch's body after that. Instead, he runs for Sypha. She'd fallen among the splinters, and he doesn't even think about kneeling, about passing his hands over her to feel for blood, for anything sticking out or misplaced.

"Are you alright? That was some hit." And fuck him, his job is to be the one taking the hits. He still hasn't forgiven himself for the scars on her upper arm from their fight with Dracula.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she grumbles. "Help me up."

He does, splaying one hand under her back and supporting her under the elbow with his other hand. He hefts her up, taking most of her weight, and she stumbles a little as she rises. She leans heavily against him, and he lets her, wrapping one arm loosely around her shoulders. "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she snaps, predictably irritated, and waves a hand at him. "Leave it be."

"Alright, alright, if you say so. And, well, she's dead. If we're lucky, some of these people might start turning back. Do we want to be here for that?" They probably should. He thinks his uncle would have. His father certainly would have.

#netflix castlevania #castlevania fic #wip wednesday #whip wednesday #trephacard #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #witchbottle

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ahsokadrabbles · 3 years

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𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 [the mandalorian x reader]

the mandalorian and the reader travel to the ghost town of mos pelgo in search of someone to lead the child to others of its kind. (part one of an ongoing series.)

this fic was born after listening to the song devil’s back bone by the civil wars perhaps a few times too many. if you haven’t heard it, i highly encourage you to check it out here because it’s a great song. i was inspired by the idea of loving a man who has committed many wrongs, but for the right cause, and then immediately thought of din. anyways, i’ve had this one on my mind for a while so i really hope you enjoy it. happy reading!

word count: 5k

warnings: angst, alcohol, your usual run of the mill rowdiness

The Mandalorian and you had a simple relationship. You were to care for and watch over his son when he couldn't, which happened to be quite often due to his demanding lifestyle. In return he housed you, fed you, and provided you with protection when necessary. Nothing more, nothing less, right? That was the way the rugged bounty hunter saw things, but you on the other hand felt differently. Something about his stone-cold demeanor drew you in. He was strong and brave, intimidating, and feared, and all of those characteristics stirred something deep within you.

But to him, you were only the Child's caretaker. Nothing more, nothing less.

You rolled over on your cot to face the wall, your eyes still blurred from sleep. Groggily you felt around the folds of your sheets until you grasped a small rock with one pointy end that you had collected from a planet you had long since left. You and the bounty hunter traveled so often that all the planets and systems had begun to blur together. You never paid much attention to where you were anyway. You could be on the most beautiful planet, covered with white sands and clear seas, yet you would still be more entranced by the mysterious Mandalorian.

You scratched another line into the wall and counted how many were there. You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for 124 days, give or take a cycle as you had only started keeping track a few weeks after you boarded the Razorcrest. It looked as if you were a prisoner counting the days they spent locked away, but really you were tracking how long it was taking for the Mandalorian to finally see you. Not just with his eyes, but deeper than that. To you, it seemed like your infatuation was painfully obvious, but maybe the warrior was oblivious, or just completely ignoring you. It was probably the latter.

You sat upright in bed as your vision cleared the rest of the way and caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian putting on his chest plate.

"Sorry," You muttered, immediately placing your hand over your eyes.

Seeing Mando without his armor might as well have been seeing him naked. And seeing him without his helmet would probably end in your untimely demise.

You liked to think he wouldn't kill you, but sometimes you really weren't sure.

"It's okay," His deep and muffled voice replied, watching as you sheepishly removed your hands from your eyes.

You could hear the child cooing over in Din's half of the room so you climbed out of bed to go fetch him. You hummed a soft and sweet good morning to the baby before sweeping him up into your arms and planting a kiss on his wrinkled forehead.

"Where are we headed?" You asked as you bounced the child in your arms, earning you a fit of soft giggles from him.

"Tatooine." Mando bluntly answered.

As usual, he wasn't much for words.

"And we'll arrive today?" You guessed, pointing the baby in the direction of its father who he was making grabby hands at.

"We should land in an hour or so. We're meeting a friend of mine at her hangar."

Your brain got stuck on the word 'her'. You didn't even think the Mandalorian had friends, especially not lady friends. You swallowed your jealousy and handed the baby to the man.

"Spend some time with him while I get dressed. I'll be up to make breakfast in a second." You told him, watching as he took the baby with a gentleness that did not match his hardened exterior.

When you finished getting dressed, you climbed up the ladder into the upper quarters. You were immediately blinded by the light of the bright suns of Tatooine as you exited the darkness of the lower bunks.

"That was quick." You muttered, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the light.

You strapped in for the landing, clutching the child close to your chest as the turbulence rattled the ship's interior. You and the Mandalorian both let out your usual sigh of relief when you thankfully made another safe landing.

"Alright, she's waiting," Din said, referring to his lady friend that you were painfully jealous of.

"Maybe the baby and I should just stay here, you know how Tatooine is." You said, looking into the Mandalorian's expressionless visor.

You didn't know if your heart could handle being around Mando and the mystery woman.

"Nothing will happen if I'm with you two." He replied lowly, motioning with his arm for you to follow.

You unwilling trailed behind the man, the small green child clung to your hip. The rear door of the ship opened with a great hiss, a pool of hot golden light following in its wake. The Child gurgled and shielded its large dark eyes with a small three-fingered hand, taken aback by the sudden rush of sunlight.

"I thought that hunk of junk looked familiar," A raspy female voice greeted, her body merely a black silhouette against the scorching desert suns.

"Hello, Peli." The Mandalorian replied.

Mando may have appeared stoic to most, but you'd been around him enough to been to notice the slight queues in his voice. When he found something funny, there was a certain waver to his gravelly tone, and it was present in this moment.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the light you were met with the sight of a short woman who was more hair than height. She had a head of wild, curly hair and was clad in a tattered jumpsuit. She wasn't at all what you were expecting, but the mischievous glint in her eyes was strangely comforting. You felt as if she were an old friend to you.

"Did you finally get hitched, Mando?" She asked, looking you up and down as if she were examining your worth.

Your face grew hotter than what it already was in the blistering Tatooine heat as the man beside you cleared his throat.

Suddenly, you felt uncomfortable in your tattered, olive-colored overalls. You sure didn't look like a worthy bride.

"She is the Child's caretaker." He answered, his gaze still locked on Peli.

Your chest panged at his words and you held onto the Child tighter, tucking his small green head beneath your chin.

"Well, that's your loss. She's one fine specimen." The woman with the unruly hair replied as she flashed you a lopsided grin.

"May I see him?" She beamed at the baby clutched in your arms and the blush that was rapidly spreading across your face went unnoticed to her.

You looked down at the Child and watched as he gazed at Peli with admiration, the two had seemingly met before.

"Of course," You hummed, descending the ramp so you could safely hand the Child over.

You watched as she hummed and fawned over the baby while you felt the Mandalorian's unnerving presence looming over your shoulder. His broad shadow that was cast across the dusty ground showed his arms folded over his armored chest.

"We stopped by hoping you could provide us some information-"

"You never just want to come to visit me, there always has to be something in it for you." Peli huffed.

You quietly analyzed the relationship between the two. Lucky for you they weren't old flames, but they were close with one another. Why didn't Mando and you joke like this? How much longer were you going to have to sit next to him in the co-pilot's seat in deafening silence? You decided that if you got a moment alone with Peli, you'd ask how the two of them got so close. Maybe she'd be able to help you.

"What do you know about Mos Pelgo?" The bounty hunter asked, earning a puzzled expression from the older woman.

"Destroyed in battle." She bluntly replied, bouncing the baby up and down in her arms.

"No, that's not right." The Mandalorian mumbled.

"Koresh said Mos Pelgo, right?" He turned toward you for support.

"If I recall correctly, yes." You said, now equally puzzled.

Now you worried that your run-in with the gangster Gor Koresh had been for nothing. What if the three of you almost died all for a dead end?

"R5," Peli called, summoning forth a rusted red and white droid.

"Pull up a map of Tatooine for me, will you?"

The droid hummed and whirred as it went to work at an achingly slow pace.

"Can you go any faster you useless pile of bolts?" She groaned.

Before the four of you appeared a flickering hologram of a map of Tatooine.

"Now, can you find me Mos Pelgo?"

The droid let out another series of beeps before getting to work again, slightly faster this time.

"I don't see it." Mando frustrated announced as you stared at the blank spot on the map.

"Mos Pelgo was turned to dust, I'm not sure if you'll find what you're looking for there," Peli explained before looking skeptically towards you and the Mandalorian.

"We still have to try." You said, looking down at the baby in Peli's arms.

"For him."

"What sort of trouble are you two looking for anyway?"

"A source told me I could find another Mandalorian there. Hopefully, they can lead me to others like the Child."

"And by a source he means gangster." You said under your breath, earning a hearty chuckle from the mechanic.

"At least he has someone with at least a lick of sense around now. I don't know what he thinks he's doing running and being in cahoots with gangsters. He has a responsibility now!" She waved the baby around in Mando's line of sight.

You smiled to yourself, happy to finally have some recognition for all the help you gave to The Mandalorian. If it weren't for you he probably wouldn't be able to keep his head on his shoulders.

"I have a land speeder you two can borrow, but if anything happens to it this time I swear, Mando I will have your-"

"I will bring it back in one piece." The man silenced, already walking towards the speeder.

You looked at the lone bike with dismay. It was going to be awkward to have to share one, especially for that long of a trip.

"I hate to ask for too much, Peli, but do you happen to have a second speeder?" You shyly requested with your hands clasped together in front of you.

"Nope, not since Mando here wrecked the last one."

"You should be fine, I don't think he bites unless you tick him off." She teased with a wink.

You let out and nervous laugh and took hold of the Child as she handed him over to you. You tenderly put him into his pouch before tying it to the back of the speeder.

The Mandalorian had already boarded the bike and started the engine, it purred and sputtered like a sickly loth cat. Despite the worrying amount of noise the speeder made, you sat down on the back end of the vehicle, making sure to keep your distance from the bounty hunter in front of you.

"You're going to want to get closer than that, sweetheart. Don't need anyone flying off now do we?" Peli joked.

You hesitantly inched forward, wrapping your arms around Mando's waist for extra support. His beskar armor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the desert suns that had been beating down on you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, peering over his shoulder at you.

You nodded and forced a smile in reply. When the Mandalorian finally looked away, you caught a glimpse of Peli's smug expression.

"If you two make it back by dinner, we're having bantha!" She shouted over the deafening hum of the speeder.

Your stomach was too knotted to even think of eating.

It was a long and uncomfortable ride to Mos Pelgo. Though you and the Mandalorian weren't having the greatest time, the Child seemed thrilled. He grinned into the wind as his long green ears fluttered behind him. At least someone was content.

While the child babbled beside you, you spent the trip hoping Mos Pelgo had what you were looking for. You wanted a win for Mando, he'd been trying so hard to find anyone who could help get the Child home, but he was only coming up with loose ends.

"Do you see that?" You shouted, pointing off into the distance at an outline of a town.

Din applied a heavier push to the gas pedal and sent you flying straight for the small village of Mos Pelgo. When he finally got closer he slowed down, noticing that the loud rumble of the engine was attracting unwanted attention. Every resident of the town was stood outside their small hut glaring and covered in soot and ash. That sight was enough to tell you that Mos Pelgo was a mining colony, but what would a Mandalorian want with a mining colony?

"Stop here," You instructed, tapping Din's shoulder as you neared an abandoned-looking cantina.

The speeder came to a steady halt and Din cut the engine, engulfing the three of you in silence.

"I guess this is a good place to start?" You shrugged as you slipped off the seat and dusted the sand off the front of your overalls.

"We'll find out." The Mandalorian said, a hint of doubt in his steely voice.

You retrieved the Child from the speeder and wore the sack he was stored in across your front. He babbled nonsense at you and then proceeded to point at his mouth, letting you know he was hungry.

"We'll see if they have anything for you here, okay?" You cooed, scratching the baby's wrinkled head.

The Mandalorian led the way into the cantina, up three creaking wooden steps, and through a set of swinging doors that hadn't had their hinges oiled in far too long. The interior of the bar looked just as dead as the rest of Mos Pelgo. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and sand and the furniture was tattered and worn. Not to mention that the floorboards moaned beneath you as if they would give out at any moment.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" You called out, keeping close to Mando.

A door in one of the far back and dark corners of the bar swung open and a large and burly creature sauntered out.

"Can I help you, folks?" He asked as he saddled up behind the bar.

"We have a few questions for you actually, but first, do you have any bone broth for the little one?" You questioned, giving the man a hopeful smile.

"I do, now what questions do you have for me?"

You looked to the Mandalorian while the bartender prepared the broth for the baby, causing the armored man to clear his throat.

"Do you know of any Mandalorians who live here? Anyone who looks like me?"

The man eyed Din as he slid you the broth for the Child. Both you and your partner held your breath and hoped for an even slightly helpful answer.

"You must be thinking of the Marshal." The bartender replied as you shifted through your sack looking for credits.

"You've got a little mouth to feed, it's on the house." He added with a dismissing wave of his hand.

Before you could thank him for his kindness, Din shot another question.

"Your marshal wears Mandalorian armor?"

You resisted the urge to smack Din on the arm. He never slowed down to just be thankful, he never really thought. This is normally where trouble began.

The creaking cantina doors that you had entered through earlier groaned open once again as a great beam of sunlight filled the room and illuminated the dust that floated through the hot, thick air.

"Well speak of the devil," The barman spoke before raising his hand to give a blunt salute.

You and Din both pivoted around to face the man who had sauntered into the bar, clad head to toe in battered Mandalorian armor. He sat down in a wooden chair, back slouched and knees spread like he owned the place. He radiated the energy of someone important and for a moment you thought that maybe the ghost town of Mos Pelgo wasn't a dead end after all. That was until the Marshal did something shocking. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Din's hand settled upon the blaster holstered to his thigh, but you used your free hand to push it away.

The Marshal had removed his helmet and it was sat on the table, tinted visor glinting in the sunlight.

"Take it off," The bounty hunter said bluntly, still grasping his weapon even after you attempted to push him away.

"Or I will."

With your eyes wide as saucers, you quickly sat the Child down out of harm's way and stood yourself between the two men. You wouldn't let Din be this reckless and kill off your only lead. The two of you had been searching far and wide for another Mandalorian for far too long. Yes, this man wasn't exactly a Mandalorian, but for now, he was all you had.

"Mando, don't." You ordered, looking into the darkness of his helmet and estimating where his eyes might lay.

You hated having to do this, to restrain him from protecting his culture. It was unfair that this Marshal could walk around as he did without facing the persecution Din faced and without devoting his life to Mandalorian culture.

As you stood between the two men who now had their weapons drawn you thought of all the things you'd seen the bounty hunter go through, all because of his faith. The endless names and taunting, the rowdy bar fights that ended in dented beskar and bloodied knuckles. You wanted him to be able to let it all out, but you couldn't sacrifice this.

"Please don't fight." You said shakily, looking to your left at the Marshal.

The man's eyes were narrowed and strands of silver hair hung over his forehead. He was brazen and handsome as he awaited the Mandalorian's next move. The Marshal bit his cheek and followed your orders, lowering his blaster to his side.

"Drop it," You said, pointing your eyes down to the dirty floor below you.

"Please."

The Marshal raised his hands in defeat as he crouched down to the ground and carefully sat down his weapon. You kept your eyes locked on him as he rose back up with a cocky, lopsided grin.

"You aren't excluded from this, Mando." You huffed, not even having to look over your shoulder to know that Din still had his weapon raised.

Even through his modulator, you heard his quiet grunt of annoyance as he discarded his blaster.

"We don't want any trouble, sir-" You began before the Marshal outstretched his hand to you.

"It's no problem at all, young lady." He said before taking your hand into a firm grip.

You meekly shook back and blushed furiously when he lifted your hand to his mouth and planted a kiss. Before you could get too stuck on wondering where the hell you were, the Marshal provided a formal introduction.

"I'm Cobb Vanth, the Marshal of this little town you've found yourselves at."

You gave him a nervous smile and gestured towards yourself.

"I'm Y/N and that's Mando." You said, remembering not giving away the bounty hunter's real name.

"And who's that little fella?" Vanth questioned, pointing towards the Child who was peering at him from his carrier.

"He doesn't have a name," Din answered, moving forward to stand beside you like an overprotective shadow.

"He's actually why we're here." You added before giving a kind wave to the baby to let him know you hadn't forgotten about him. He was getting to the age where he required lots of attention and would get quite fussy if you didn't play with him or hold him often.

"Well, I hate to interrupt you darlin', but I have to ask your friend here what all the fuss is with my armor?" The Marshal asked, his arms now inquisitively folded across his chest.

"The armor your wearing is Mandalorian. You're not supposed to wear it if you're not part of the creed." Mando explained.

You could tell he was trying his best to remain calm.

"How do you know I'm not part of the creed?" Vanth prodded, quirking a dark brow.

"Mandalorians never remove their helmets in front of anyone."

The cantina was covered in the blanket of a heavy and uncomfortable hush. You could tell that beneath the Marshal's tough exterior, he truly did feel guilty.

Before he could reply to Din, a faint rumble sounded off in the distance. You and the Mandalorian exchanged puzzled glances before the entire room began to shake. Bottles behind the bar began to fall off the shelf and shatter as you ran to fetch the Child who was cowering in the corner.

"What the hell is that?" You shouted, looking to the Marshal for an answer.

He motioned for you and Din to follow him outside and wearily you did so. The residents of Mos Pelgo were rushing to get inside and salvage whatever they could as a massive lump beneath the sand came rushing toward the village. You held the baby closer to your chest as the mass beneath the ground burst out and reared it's scaly head before it swallowed an unsuspecting bantha whole.

All fell quiet once the creature burrowed deeper into the ground and sped away, leaving destruction in its wake.

"Care to tell us what that was?" Mando said, not a hint of fear in his voice.

"Krayt dragon," Vanth replied nonchalantly, obviously this wasn't a once in a lifetime occurrence.

"And I tell you what, Mando; if you can help me get rid of that damn thing, I'll give you my armor."

The Marshal stood with one hand on his hip and the other outstretched, waiting for the Mandalorian's grasp.

"Do we have a deal?"

"Deal," Din said, firmly shaking the other man's hand.

It seemed now that asking Vanth about the Child had become an afterthought and you did not agree to fight a massive monster who could swallow farm animals whole.

The Marshal offered you and the Mandalorian a place to stay for the night, but first, the three of you would devise a plan on how to deal with the dragon.

You were back in the Cantina which now brimmed with customers. Though you were squared away in a booth in the back corner, you could still feel the wary stares of the locals burning into the nape of your neck. You just kept feeding the baby and minding your own business, hoping they'd all just leave you alone.

"Are you alright?" Din asked, noticing your anxious demeanor.

"I'm fine. I can just tell not everyone is as welcoming as the Marshal." You replied as you spooned more broth into the Child's mouth.

"I'm sure a few stories of how you pulled a blaster on their leader have already gotten around."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." He apologized, quietly watching you care for the baby.

"You rarely ever do." You teased, nudging his leg beneath the table.

"Sorry you two, duty called." Vanth huffed as he settled into the booth beside you.

You tensed up as your bare shoulder brushed against his own and his knee pushed into your thigh.

"Are we ready to talk business, or are we thinking drinks first? I could really use something to take the edge off."

"We don't really do that sort of thing." You explained, trying your best to kindly decline.

"I have a backroom Mando can use," The Marshal continued to offer.

Din declined and the Marshal knew better than to push him any further. Now you were the only one left to persuade.

"Come on, live a little Miss Y/N!"

You looked to Din for reassurance to which he outstretched his arms to take the baby.

"Alright, I guess," You said before following an enthusiastic Vanth over to the bar.

The Marshal signaled to the bartender for two drinks as the two of you saddled up onto your stools. You looked nervously down at the tabled below you, counting every scratch in the wood.

"I hate to pry, but what exactly is the relationship between you and the Mandalorian?" Vanth asked.

"I help take care of the Child and in return, he gives me a place to stay. He got me out of a pretty nasty situation." You said in reply, choosing to keep some parts of your story a secret.

"I guess you could say he saved me, but it's nothing more than a business relationship if that's what you're asking."

The Marshal chuckled at your answer as he slid you your drink.

"It sounds like you're quite fond of him if you ask me." He teased, a handsome smile plastered on his bearded face.

"No, it's not like that."

Instead of you sounding carefree, your voice was solemn and soft. It was a weak try at trying to convince the Marshal that you weren't in love with your partner, but it would have to do.

You sheepishly looked down at the short glass of electric blue liquid before you and hoped it wouldn't hit you like a sack of bricks.

"On the count of three-" He began before you stopped him.

"Wait!" You laughed, a nervous blush spreading across your face.

"We don't have all night, darlin'." Vanth hummed, grinning when you finally got past your nerves and picked up your glass.

On three you tipped back your head and swallowed the bitter liquid. You held back a gag and wrinkled your nose as Vanth stared back at you unfazed.

"Good girl," He praised, giving an unexpected but not unwanted squeeze to your thigh.

Everyone was really staring at you now. You weren't just a stranger who wandered into town anymore, you were the girl on the Marshal's hip.

One shot soon turned into one too many and Vanth brought you back to the booth with you clinging onto his arm like a giggly mess.

"Alright, let's get to work, shall we?" Vanth said once he got you settled into the booth.

"Hi, Din." You giggled, smiling at him while the Marshal spread his plan across the table.

"How much did you drink, Y/N?" The bounty hunter asked, his voice oozing a disapproving tone.

"I have no idea," You slurred, jerking your head in the direction of the silver-haired man beside you.

"However much he gave me."

The heavily armored man let out a sigh, but the baby in his arms had the entire opposite reaction to your state. The Child found how drunk you were to be amusing.

"Sorry, I didn't expect her to react like this." Vanth sincerely replied as he fixed your disheveled hair.

"Are you gonna be okay, sweetheart?" He asked, brushing your disheveled hair away from your face.

You simply nodded in reply, not a care in the world. You hadn't felt this stress-free in a while and you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

The crowd inside the cantina began to dwindle as it grew later in the night. The clientele within it would have to wake up with the sun, so staying out all night was not something the people of Mos Pelgo did often.

The Child had begun to drift off in your arms as you looked down at him contently despite your drunken stupor. Your blurred vision made him look more like a painting on a canvas rather than a real-life child.

"Well, I think we're about done here." Vanth said, looking down at the scroll of paper on the table with an expression of satisfaction.

"I should get these two to bed. We'll meet back up tomorrow." Din replied before inching his way out of the booth.

"Come on, Y/N."

The Marshal assisted you out of the booth in his usual gentlemanly manner.

"Thank you for the drinks," You slurred, pouting as the Mandalorian removed the baby from your grasp.

"I-I'll see you tomorrow?"

Din now had a firm but gentle grasp on your wrist as he tugged you towards the exit.

"Yes ma'am, I'll have a hangover cure waiting," Cobb replied with a lopsided grin.

"Hangover?" You worriedly muttered as the Mandalorian tugged you out the swinging cantina doors.

You followed an arm's length behind Din as he led you back to your shelter for the night. If you were sober you would have easily kept up, but it felt as if you had weights strapped to your boots and the sands of Tatooine weren't aiding you in any way.

"Keep up, it's dark out. I don't want to be out here if that dragon comes back." The Mandalorian muttered, his voice a humming metallic whir in the quiet desert air.

When you finally made it to the small hut, you staggered through the door and fell heavily down onto your cot. You laid in the dark and stared up at the ceiling as Din put the Child to bed and lit a few candles to light up the darkness of the room.

"You weren't like yourself tonight." He said quietly, his broad back turned to you as he fussed with lighting another candle.

"What?" You grunted, holding yourself upright in bed by your elbows.

"The way you acted today was unlike you. Honestly, it was irresponsible."

The gears in your brain turned as you strung together every word of his sentence into something coherent to your drunken mind.

"What do you mean unlike me?" You scoffed, now sitting upright with your legs folded beneath you.

"You're acting like you know me."

"Of course I know you, Y/N. I've been carting you across the galaxy for months now." The Mandalorian replied, turning to face you now that he had finished his battle with the lamp.

"Exactly! We've been stuck in your hunk of junk traveling through space for so long and you haven't even tried to get to know me." You shot back, your voice raising itself an octave.

The combination of the alcohol and your now unbottled emotions made you feel hot and sickly. It was the kind of discomfort where out of the blue your clothes felt like they were going to swallow you whole or your boots felt like they were laced too tight. You were a ticking time bomb and everything was bound to set you off.

"So what? You think the Marshal knows you better?"

"That's what this is about? You're jealous?" You snapped, your jaw practically hanging to the floor out of shock.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife as the bounty hunter hovered above your cot. You could feel his glare, even if it was obscured by his helmet. The liquid courage that was coursing through you urged you to challenge him further, but deep down you knew that you might as well be playing with fire.

"Go to bed. It's late and I don't want you waking the Child." He said flatly before extinguishing the lamps he had put on just minutes earlier.

You dramatically fell back onto the bed, the force of your body causing the springs in the mattress to creak beneath you. Scowling up at the ceiling, you counted the wood panels above your head and listened to the quiet thud of the Mandalorian stripping off his boots before crawling into bed.

If there hadn't already been a rift between you two before, there was now.

You awoke to bright sunlight leaking in through the narrow windows of the hut. In the pool of honeyed sunlight, the Child babbled from within his cradle. To your left, Mando laid in bed, the slow rise and fall of his chest suggesting that he was still asleep. You pondered over how he managed to sleep with all his armor on before remembering the argument the two of you had gotten into the night before. The events leading up to it were foggy, but sadly that had managed to stick with you. This is why you never drank, you weren't fond of having to piece your life back together the next morning. You forced yourself out of bed, trying to ignore the pounding in your head, and walked over to where the baby was.

"Good morning, little one." You hummed.

The Child beamed back up at you with wide, dark eyes and your heart fluttered at his admiring gaze. He was only a baby of course, but his kindness was enough to mend your wounds from the night before.

Behind you, the Mandalorian stirred in his bed.

"Hello," You heard him mutter sleepily.

"Did the Child wake you?"

"No, it was that damn sun." You replied, squinting into the light.

You were much more used to the darkness of your quarters in the Razorcrest. Some curtains in the hut would've been favorable. It probably would've made the space a little more welcoming too. You hadn't noticed it in the pitch dark of the night before, but the room itself was quite sad. You were stood upon dirt floors and surrounded by blank, beige walls.

"Listen, I'm sorry about-"

You didn't know if now was the right time to apologize, but maybe there would never be a 'right time'.

"Don't apologize. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. You were drunk and all I did was provoke you. I should be the sorry one." Mando cut you off, now stood behind you with a gloved hand awkwardly placed on your shoulder as the two of you hovered over the Child.

"I guess we should go find the Marshal. He's probably waiting for us." You said, looking over your shoulder at the masked man behind you.

You had placed a band-aid on the situation, now it was time to carry on. More important things hung in the balance than you having butterflies for the faceless bounty hunter you shadowed behind.

You had a dragon to kill.

let me know what you think of this first part! also let me know if you would like to be tagged in the second part so you are alerted when it comes out. thank you so much for reading! <3

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #star wars

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jennsmischievousmind · 3 years

Text

Vhekadla

Vhekadla : Sandy

Pairing: Mando x mirialan!reader

Word count: 4.782

Warnings: Exile, reader not good with kids, mild swearing, slight angst, self-medication (needles (once))

Summary: Peli needs components for the failing vaporator in Hangar-2, you are meant to go the moisture farm to get them. But a renown bounty hunter lands in Hangar-3.

A/N: Some references to the OG trilogy and the following one. Can’t wait to see how many you find. Let me know.

I tried not to use any gender for reader (I’m still learning about it) Text in italic = reader’s internal thoughts English is not my native language, I’m trying to get better at it, please be indulgent.

It was fun to reconnect with the lovely Star Wars nerd in me.

“A Mirialan would place a unique, often geometrically repeated tattoo on their face and hands to signify that they had completed a certain test or task, or achieved sufficient aptitude for a certain skill. The number of tattoos would thus often act as a good indicator of how mature and/or skilled a Mirialan was.”

You heard Peli calling out from the hangar, jumping down the reactor you were working on, you step on hangar 3′s threshold. Glancing through your fingers’ shielding the sun, as the pre-Imp beat up vessel lands in Hangar 3. You rolled down your sleeves as Peli look back at you.

“He doesn’t really like droids, so you’ll have to step-in.” stopping next to her you nodded, readjusting your tool belt.

Working for Peli you thought you'd seen everything in terms of species. Until the vessel's ramp lower down with a hiss, a shiny Mandalorian walking out.

Your eyes went to Peli and the approaching bounty hunter as she made her way to him grinning, awaiting for him to give her something. The tall, beskar clad individual gave a small green creature to Peli whom started to coo at it. Weird.

“Glad you decided to keep him.” She waved a finger your way giving you the go-to.

Treading to the gunship, the T shape visor of the Mandalorian followed your form, you didn’t pay much attention to it, hunters could be precious about their engines.

Plugging your datapad in the cargo bay panel you ran a quick diagnostic, looking around the ship while waiting, the hull was oddly neat you noted. The Datapad biped loudly, detailing the ships problems. This old thing was still flying, how, who knew.

“What’s with the Mirialan?"

“What can I tell? I’m going soft! Coz of your womp rat for sure.” He said nothing waiting for her to continue

“They needed the job, no questions ask. But don’t ask about the tattoos, they can be moody,”

“I heard that,” you strolled down the left telescopic gate, heading for the front repulsorlfits.

Why were they talking about you? Do they know each other much? Why a bounty hunter was carrying a child-like thing.

Stepping into the cockpit, you refrained on sitting on the pilot seat, you always felt that pilot seats were as intimate as beds. The Datapad ran a new diag, you eye the control panel, tilting your head seeing something was missing.

The Mandalorian stood tall before Peli “I have things to do!”

Peli waved him off “Yeaah go hunt, we’ll fix your ship in the meantime,”

After a few hours, drenched in sweat and sticky black goo on your hands you finally ease yourself in the cockpit “That should be good, punch it!” you yelled to the 3 pit-droids outside. After hearing the droids tripped on each other, they activated the engine, launching the hyperdrive for a last test.

The Mandalorian made his way back in the hangar just in time to see you hopping down the cargo ladder, sweeping your greasy hands on your overalls.

He couldn’t help but noticed the tattoos showing at your wrists as your sleeves had rolled up.

“This is not going to be a recurrent thing.” You heard the Mandalorian say, clearly annoyed. Approaching them, you could feel the Mandalorian was tense, Peli took the datapad you handed her, you tried your best no to stare at the broad shoulders at your right.

Finally noticing him, and his T-visor staring at your wrists, you swiftly turned around and brushed the sleeves back down; “She’s up to fly. The hyperdrive is as brain new, we made a few check-ups on the engines since they were coughing a bit,” you rounded a crate, looking back at him, your sleeves now attached to your fingers, “and the lights are back on!” you index pointed to the lamp on the ceiling.

“You’ll want a price cut, as I can see here,”

You glanced at the visor for a second, what did Peli ask him to do? “Fine,” he sighed.

“Go to the moisture farm and get my parts,” she patted at his pauldron, “you’ll be his guide.“ you were so engrossed in Peli’s friendliness with the bounty huinter that it didn’t click immediatly. Until it did.

“Hold on, what?” voice rising a notch “I told you I’d go,.. alone!” you argued

“With all the recent things happening in this forsaken desert, I’d rather not send you alone.”

Stepping closer to Peli, your back to the Mandalorian, you stared at her, she stared back, not having it. She knew you could take down a Gamorrean if needed.

“Boss, …”

“For Force’s sake don’t argue with me,” She shooed you away, you knew she wouldn’t let go.

“You still have that speeder bike?” his modulated voice rang in your back as you made your way to the fresher to clean yourself up.

Peli snarled “I’m gonna start renting it.”

Waiting near the speeder bike, Peli handed you the credits to pay for the binary brain unit and humidity sensor, she needed it for the vaporator in H-2. The moisture farm you were heading to had the parts since they owned the same vaporators.

“You can trust him,” she nudged her jaw to the approaching Mandalorian.

“I’ll be the judge of that,”

“He’s like family, call him Mando,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. Peli wouldn’t leave the city walls since the Empire fell, so obviously it became your task to get the parts or hardware from out of the walls. Before that she’d lost a few droids in the desert.

The Mandalorian rounded the speeder, securing a bag on the right side, a green little head popped out of it.

“I don’t think ‘it’ should come, if we encounter any bandits or raiders.”

The thing looked at the his keeper “Don’t worry about that, he’s seen worse.”

You turned to Peli, eyes widenned and flailing hands. She shrugged her famous grin on. Head lolling back and squeezing your eyes shut you let out a sigh then swiveled to him. “I drive, you shoot?” you ask adjusting your scarf around your mouth and nose.

“What?” he genuinely asked. Shaking your head amused you nod your head to the main seat for him to take. It'll be easier to hold him than him hold you.

Straddling the speeder you felt tiny behind him, the beskar was cold even under the twins suns, a gurgle took your attention off the reflecting beskar in front of you. Wrinkled critter.

Keeping a grip on Mando’s side you check the Holo map as the speeder bike hovered at its fastest speed. Gesturing at Mando to indicate the path, the moisture farm would be visible in a few visvia. A glare caught your eye a second too late, you flew from the speeder, crashing hard against the burning sand. Between your grunts and those of the Mandalorian you heard Tusken Raiders' howls.

Groaning you hold your ribs rolling on your good side “Freaking dehydrated Raiders!” The little green being was confused a meter from you, sadly sat on the sand. “Mando, your .. kid,” his broad shadow came into view, soon scooping the child.

Finger at the trigger you look up at the cliffs “Thought you were friends with them!”

The Mandalorian was trying to salvage the speeder bike while you looked at the map for a safer and faster path, still eyeing the cliffs now and then. “Don’t bother, engine’s burnt.” Greeny made a worried sound.

“The tuskens, they are the shoot first, ask question later kind of people,” he posted himself on your right, you glanced at him stealthily. Even without seeing his face, his demeanour showed he was pissed off.

“You both have something in common,” you sheath your blaster in the small of the back holster.

“What?” you sensed it took it the wrong way, so quickly clarified “Showing skin is not allowed,”

“Just as your not allowed to show your tattoos!” he riled back.

Your head jerked back, you were not expecting the backlash. You stalked past him, “We should go, the farm ain’t far!” putting as much distance between you and the bounty hunter.

The Mandalorian regretted his words as soon as they came out. He surely was the last one to have a say about others’ customs and beliefs. Your behavior somehow disarmed him, he didn't know how to act anymore.

The suns were getting low in your back, you thank the maker your body was acclimated for dry lands. The hair at your nape rose in a instant, you looked back at the horizon standstill for a few seconds.

"We must take shelter," you whispered. The green critter tilted his head to you followed by his Mandalorian whom picked up your words through his enhanced helmet.

"Sandstorm!" you ran past him, heading for the rocks ahead.

Pulling your large scarf around your face, the Mandalorian was hot on your tail, you realized you wouldn’t like to be one of his bounty, his impressive broadness and the heavy beskar made you shivered. Sliding between two big rocks, you fumbled with your water jug, quickly wetting your scarf around your mouth. The Mandalorian soon joined you with a distorted groan, the baby oddly excitied about the run out was babbling.

"Here," you wet a rag you kept in your rucksack handing it to to him. "It’ll need it," taking the rag from your hand he gently folded it and wrapped the child’s mouth and pointy ears. A gust of hard wind and sand hit the rocks, the light disappearing instantly you found yourself enveloped in a dusty copper shadow. Clenching your eyes shut, your hands immediately went to the child's eyes. You felt his little hands holding onto yours. It’s not a game you thought. The sand was hard on the few uncovered patches of skin on your face, but it soon stopped. You could still hear the wind, the sand rattling the rocks but you couldn't feel it anymore. Opening your eyes carefully, your head jerked back. Beskar. The T visor of his helmet was staring at you. Looking up you saw his arm holding his cape around you three. Your hand unconsciously slowly slipped from the child's eyes. Your reflection was staring at you with wide eyes, its closeness made you uneasy yet not unwelcomed, as the kid was still holding your fingers, this one whined.

“It won’t take long,” Mando spoke, his head dropping to the green child. Adverting your eyes from his visor you scolded yourself, and your increasing heartbeat.

His eyes were trained on your geometrical tattoos adorning your delicate face, he didn’t expect to lost himself in your eyes as you opened them. His gut twisted when you moved back with a start.

Few minutes later you were dusting sands from your hair and clothes “We should be at the farm in a bit,”

He nodded "I hope they have a speeder to lend us there,”

That yes, coz I won't make it back by walking. I'm no bantha

Both of you let out a relieved sigh when the farm appeared in the horizon. Bhindi Kayle welcomed you in the abode, the farm was practically empty, all the workers were home or in town, only an old man sat at the far end of a bench. Bhindi Kayle was an old aquaintance of Peli, he cut you off as soon as you started talking, he stood before you oddly trying to assert a sort of dominance, he’d never been like that.

"Yeah Peli send us a hologram earlier this week,” Mando's chest heaved as soon as the farmer interrupted you. “Didn't expect a Mandalorian to work for her,"

Aaah, a men’s ego.

The kid babbled a confused note, "I'm not working for Motto," Mando stated, galled.

"The Mandalorian is ... here for protection, somehow." The child looked at you from the satchel on Mando's hip.

The old man rumbled from the corner, "A mirialan, a Mandalorian and a ... whatever that is ... roaming around Tatooine, what a sight."

"Ah don't listen to him, he lost his mind since the Lars’ farm got burned down,” Bhindi leaned in whispering ”inhaled too much smoke while trying to raid the place."

Negotiating the parts’ price was not in the deal but knowing Peli wasn’t here, Bhindi tried. Yeah tried, not for nothing Peli Motto took you in, you were as stubborn as a falumpaset, gosh you missed Naboo.

"Do you have a speeder?” Mando asked his tone becoming a bit hesitant “Ours ... blown off on the way," your refrained a smirk.

"Well, we have swoops but you'll be back to Peli in days at that speed." You followed him through the pit to the garage. Eyes skimming the messy place, looked like a junkyard, the green kid was touching everything, you lose your footing on a piece of scrap while looking at it, firm gloved hands propped you up by the shoulders without a word. Embarrassment filed you as Mando’s hands left your shoulders with hesitation.

"Are those... pieces of a Bantha-II cargo skiff?" You stepped onto the old railing, trying to distract yourself from the burning feel of his touch. "Where did you get that?"

"That old rusty thing? We found it a few years back. The Hutts might have abandoned it, thankfully for us the Jawas were late on this one." Bhindi rummaged through a bunch of metal "We keep some engines we found for the parts, just in case. Ah!"

He proudly showed his finding. You heard the Mandalorian groaned behind you.

"Might be cramp on it with the two of you, but it can do."

Mando was not amused "A skimboard?" his hands reached his hips, he stood there staring at Bhindi. Stepping down the railing, a light smile spread on your lips.

"I'm good with it," you grabbed the board "you fly, I use the skimboard," his bucket head turned to you, the heavy silence coming from the Beskar clad man had Bhindi lose his tough demeanour, but had you amused.

"Hum, I can probably find an old speeder bike," The Mandalorian nodded at the farmer.

Inspecting the slick metal, your hand dusted off the sand of off it "How much for it?"

"25 alliance credits will do," he shrugged. "Deal," Bhindi hurried away in the back of the garage.

“I’ll be back in a minute,”stepping out the junkyard, you head for the hydroponic garden.

The sand had crawled under your layers, it soon became itchy and abrasive. Stripping down your top layers, you stayed in your dark undershirt. Vigorously dusting off your copper colored top and black hood, the dusts particles shining under the sun rays. Cupping water in your hands, your let the fresh water ran down your tattooed arms. Cold water on your face never felt so good, even after hours working on a spaceship it wasn’t as satisfying.

“Khayle found us a landspeeder” you gasped at his voice, holding your arms around you and turning your back to him; Mando became even more silent than usual. The tattoos on your arms and body were not to be seen by everyone, it wasn’t as strict as Mandalorian’s creed or the Tuskens but still, you were meant to choose the few who would see them. The one on your face were your achievement, your proudness, you could show them. But those on your body were more personal, promises to your species, and to yourself. Since the farm was empty you thought it would be safe to undress, apparently not.

Mando paused, he wasn’t expecting that, seeing the tattoos on your wrists earlier he thought that was it but seeing your inked arms and shoulders blades he felt pulled by curiosity but as soon as he saw you flinched and tried to hide your arms, he turned away.

He walked out, not saying a word, thinking about what he said earlier. Peli did warn him. Feeling your rushed breathing haven out, and the thundering sound of your bloodstream into your ears fading you reached for your copper long sleeve top. As you tried to snatch it you felt a resistance, the child, coming to you his little claws up to touch your arms. Big dark eyes staring at you, oddly similar to the dark visor of his keeper. Feeling that pull deep inside, you frowned putting your hood on and grabbing the child, holding it bunglingly, he kept looking at you.

“You forgot something.” You gently shoved him the child, then rounded the landspeeder.

Bhindi casually leaned on the abode “You should stay for the night, Raiders thrive at night.”

Mando watched you sit at the driver’s seat, your hood hiding your expression. “We’ll be fine,” he answered not sparing a glance at Bhindi. The child fell asleep an hour after leaving the moisture farm that’s when Mando decided to talk.

“If I’d known ...” you stayed silent “Did I endanger your faith or beliefs?” he asked seriously concerned.

“Mirialans, we …” you scoffed “I’ll be fine.”

Something in his tone changed “I’m sorry, it wasn’t done on purpose.” The child’s ears settled down in a snore; it was as he was feeling his keeper’s trouble even through his sleep.

“Something happened, when I was not even an idea.” you felt compelled to tell the story behind the tattoos since he saw most of them. “My ancestor was part of the Senate, she believed in a way of life, now long forgotten. She fought for it but soon realized it was wrong, she was never meant to fight, she was meant to keep the peace. Her loyalty faded, she did bad things ... I’m bond to her in some ways I can’t explain.”

The Mandalorian stayed silent, you were used to it at this point.

“The old Galactic Senate banished her. No one remembers Bariss Offee now, she's been long gone. But I do.”

“The old Galactic Senate...” Mando clenched his fist “I heard about it,”

“Some of my tattoos are meant to heal her soul through me. After her fall, my family scattered, we were forbidden to talk about her, we were forced to strip ourselves from our knowledge. I was young, my parents flew us to another galaxy, there we live like humans. But my parents kept one of our custom, the tattoos.” you shrugged, even Peli didn’t know about all this, she knew about your exile but that’s all.

“I…I don’t know if I can say this and my apologize if it’s misplaced but you .. uhm” Mando asked himself why he was so stressed about telling you his honest feel about it “..they are ..pretty,” the repulsorlift the only sound perceptible. That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, especially coming from the renown bounty hunter, eyes leaving the road you stared at him confused but somehow relieved, your hood flew back reveling your face to him.

A tuskens battle cry made you break, standing up on your seat, immediately reaching for your blaster and glowrod.

“Hold on,” he posed the sleeping child on your seat, getting down.

“Mando, they shoot us once, I’m not taking any chance,”

“I’ll talk to them,” he stated calmly “lower your blaster and stay close,”

You inhaled loudly, putting away your weapon. Emerging from the dark, tall figures soon surrounded you. The deep grunt coming out the helmet at your side startled you, his gestures and groans had the attention of the faceless Raiders. The silence on their part didn’t do much to ease your worry until they answered, though you couldn’t understand, the stance of your companion made you feel safe.

“They’re saying we should camp out, another tribe, the one who shot us is ahead of us,”

“Camp out, with them?” you whispered as if they could understand you “I heard things about them,”

“Not everything you hear is true,” Mando’s visor was trained on your hesitating features. Well you didn’t have much of a choice, you weren’t going to leave without him and the green thing.

“You take the first watch,” you gathered your backpack, he nodded at you, preceding you.

The kid now awaken, was nestled between his keeper’s feet, staring at the fire in front of him. It might have felt you staring because his little ears perked up and he soon waddled to you. The kid kept trying to hold you or touch your hand.

"Is it always like that? Clingy?" You poked the child’s forehead making him wobble back.

Mando tilted his head with a sigh, silently asking if your gesture was really necessary.

"Not really," He reached for the child but this latter whined, settling when he grabbed your index’ first phalanx.

"You were saying!?" You sighed as the kid looks like he was concentrating on your finger. As he kept doing that you felt that pull again, deep inside of you, an inner energy you usually only could feel during your ancestor’s vision. It scared you, snatching your finger from the kid, you look at the big eyes now staring at you. "What are you!"

“Easy,” Mando ushered the kid back to him “He has powers, I should have warned you,”

“What kind of power?”

“He can move things with his mind or something similar” your mind processed the news, “I’ve been quested to bring him back to his kind,"

The child climbed your feet to get closer, your lips turned down in an uneasy grimace, you weren't exactly gifted with children, if it was one though. Clingy beings, loud and stinky, not your thing.

The Mandalorian kept an eye on you without your knowledge, he'd never seen anyone be so hesitant with the child before.

Mando talked with the Tuskens while you ate, he sometimes translated for you in case you were interested in their conversation.

....

"You are missing a piece on the turbines’ launch lever by the way, want another one!?" You asked him sleepily, "That won't be necessary," he chuckled and it caught you off guard but you said nothing.

A young tusken handed you a fur cloth, hesitantly grabbing it you eyed Mando, he made a gesture to the raider.

"I take the first watch," even with his vocoder you could hear the grin.

Waking up in a sweat you observed your surroundings. A bantha was snoring loudly next to a pack of sleeping tuskens. A soft snore not far from you got your attention. The child was tucked on Mando's side, his ears heaving with his breaths.

The fire reflecting on the beskar mesmerized you, it was like Mando's was made of fire. Was he sleeping?

“You’re okay?”

“My ribs hurts, I’m cold, but I’m managing.” you stood up, stepping closer to the fire. “Take some rest, it’s my shift.”

“Here,” you turned around just in time to caught the e-bacta shot, Mando closed his belt pocket and crossed his arms, leaning on a rucksack, ready to rest.

“Thanks..” you stared at his calm composure, forgetting he could still be looking at you behind that visor.

Your gaze on him got him agitated, he tried his best to rest his eyes but he couldn’t detached his from yours, somehow you always manage to made eye-contact, most people didn’t even dare look straight at him. He stayed alert as you went to the land speeder, lifting your top enough to reach your bruised flank, he saw you brace yourself for the shot.

1,2 “Hmmm!!!” you muffled your groan in your elbow as the three needles deeped in your flesh, youknew that in a few minutes you’ll be alright but maker it hurt.

The suns getting up, you were seated on the land speeder’s hood watching the twins made their entry, I’ll never get tired of this.

“We’re good to go, the other tribe moved north,” Mando set the child on the hood next to you to thanks the Tuskens.

The child lifted his head to you, silently staring, suddenly rushing to you head bumping your hip “ "Oof!” he angrily cuddled your side “Mando, what’s going on with it?”

“Hey, hey kid, no!” he cradled him into his arms “what did you do?”

“Nothing!” you jumped down the hood “It slammed into me,”

“He never acts like that, there’s something with you,” Mando stated

“Oh maker come on Mando,” your voice tightened “I’m a nobody, an exile mirialan, I’m no Jedi like my ancestor!” you realised as soon as you said it, screwing your eyes shut.

“Your ancestor was a Jedi?”he stepped forward, his demeanour now threatening but you stood your ground. “And you’re telling me now?”

“Mando I, ... I’m not sure about it, I don’t even understand the visions I have, that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“We should go!” he shut himself, the child whined against his keeper’s chest.

The ride back to Peli was excruciating, Mando didn’t talk to you or ease the kid’s fuss. The three of you made it back to Peli without issues.

She was about to make one of her famous punchline but she saw your concerned face as you passed by her deposing the vaporator’s pieces on her desk.

Peli planted herself before him “What did you do?” he sighed.

Mando watched as the door hiss closed behind you.

“How much do you know about them?”

“What’d you do!?” Peli insisted before answering his question. As stubborn as you he thought. He related the conversation, he’d never seen Peli so mad.

The soft knock on your door told you it wasn't Peli. It opened on your command.

“We need to talk,” Mando stepped-in

“Oh now you want to talk!” you threw a wrench in your tool box “We had a full ride for that.”

“You lied to me!” he pointed his finger to the ground

“I didn’t LIE to you! I just ..didn’t tell you all of it. Jedis and Mandalorians are not exactly friends for all I know,”

“The child might be a Jedi and you didn’t care to tell me you knew about he’s people.” the tiny bedroom was crowded with his presence, deep inside behind the anger lied a fluttering feeling when he entered your space.

“My ancestor had that kind of power, but I don’t know shit about it, I told you if you were to even listen!” tears at the brim at your eyes remembering your parents’ tale about their exile, you inhaled trying to stay focused.

“I’ve listened,” he regained his neutral tone “if you are like your ancestor then maybe you have that power in you, that’s why the child is reaching out to you, he might feel it,”

you scoffed “I’m a mecha not a Jedi,” the child made you jumped when he touched your hand, he had climbed the comforter hanging from your cot.

“Mando, I’d … never mean to hide things from you, I’m just..scared.” You let the child hold your finger “An unknown powerful energy in me, how would you react! Even if I’d want to know, I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded leaving your cramped bedroom with the child. Few minutes later Peli called out, sighing you drag your feet to her desk.

“What is it that you want Motto?” you taunted but the teasing voice died seeing Mando on the other side of her seat.

“I’ve been quested to bring him to the jedi.” his visor on you, knitted your brows you wait for his speech. “I could use a mecha on board, one that needs answer of some sorts,” his grave voice resonated in your ears, he faced Peli while saying it. She sighed knowingly; her face torned with doubts.

“I can’t, Peli you need me and I ..”

“Kid, I’ve seen you distraught after your visions, it’s getting worse,” Peli sighed “Well, I’m not saying losing my best mecha is ideal,” you tried your best to keep the feelings at bay “…but go if you have to, I’ll managed” she patted you shoulder, herself containing her sniffles.

“Take care of this piece of junk,” she snorted making you laugh.

“I’ll come back,”

“Don’t you dare, you're young, get out of this desolate place. Go get the galaxy,”

Smiling at her you hugged her tight “Oh come on, come on” she shooed you away, striding to your room to pack, you didn’t see her made eyed contact with Mando’s visor, a silent plead to keep you safe, he nodded.

Stepping in the cockpit, you sat on the passenger seat at his right. The green being was on your right eyeing you, you suprised yourself smiling at him. Mando came in and the kid starts to shift in his pod, you watched Mando as he took something on the control panel and swivelled to the baby. Thlatter reached out, his keeper letting a shiny metal ball fall into his little claw.

“That’s…” you said out loud. Your eyes darted to the turbines launcher’s lever. Mando finally turned to you and shrugged tilting his helmet.

“A mirialan, a Mandalorian and a Jedi ... what a sight.”

#The Mandalorian x reader #Mando x reader #mando fanfiction #Mando imagines #Mirialan reader #force sensitive reader #slow burn #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin imagines #Vhekadla #Mando x mirialan!reader

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

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A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 15: Claire

Ao3

Claire’s teeth dug sharply into her lip. The three of them had gotten into their share of mischief over the years, ranging from harmless fun to being grounded for an entire month. But this was by far the worst thing they’d ever done.

She risked a peek out of the top of the bush, forcing herself to ignore the pointy branches digging into her skin. So far both the house and the street were quiet, but Claire didn’t want to risk getting closer when they still weren’t sure where Dr. Lake was.

“Anything yet?” Darci whispered.

“Not yet,” Claire said softly “But Dr. Lake is due back any minute so let’s stay put.

The leaves gave a slight rustle as Claire sank back down, nestling back in next to Mary and Darci.

To be fair this wasn’t Claire’s idea, the whole thing had been Mary’s plan from the start. After Darci had told them what she’d overheard her dad say on the phone, Mary had brought up the idea of doubling back after school and sneaking over to Jim’s house to watch things go down.

Sneak in and out with no one ever seeing them. Easy peasy...provided one of the many many many ways this plan could go horribly wrong didn’t happen.

So yeah, Claire had a bad feeling about this right from the start, but ended up letting Darci and Mary talk her into it anyway. In spite of the nagging little voice in the back of her head that kept saying this was going to blow up in their faces.

And when they got there and saw Jim’s bike outside and an unfamiliar car parked on the curb and their reaction had been to cut across someone's backyard and duck into the bushes alongside Jim’s house; it more or less confirmed that this was going to end badly.

“What do you think’s happening?” Darci whispered again.

“I don’t know, maybe--”

“Guys shut up!”

Claire whipped her head around, branch slapping against her cheek, ready to jump down Mary’s throat for snapping at them, only for her heart to shoot up into her throat. Dr. Lake’s car, with Dr. Lake behind the wheel, ambling into the cul de sac and pulling up into the driveway. The three of them stayed as still as possible, silently watching as she stepped out of the car and walked up to the house.

About five seconds after the door shut behind her Claire spoke up.

“We gotta see what’s going on in there,”

“Definitely,”

“Agreed,”

Darci pushed herself up onto her knees, as the tallest scouting was her responsibility “Over there,” she pointed to some hedges just outside the living room window.

Staying low to the ground, Claire began crawling towards their new vantage point, Mary and Darci right behind her. They were making good progress, right up until Claire bumped into an obstacle.

Oh fudgeknucles what now?

She stopped in her tracks, perched on her hands and knees, trying to prod whatever it was out of the way with her elbow.

Behind her Mary squirmed impatiently “Claire what’s the holdup?”

“I don’t know,” she continued to try and dislodge the unknown object “Something’s blocking me,”

Too soft to be a rock, but too firm to be a plant, so what was--

Suddenly the ‘object’ let out a grunt and flopped over on its side.

The three of them let out a chorus of startled gasps.

“Toby!?” Claire squeaked “What are you--”

“Either keep quiet or get your own hiding spot!”

She shut her mouth, more stunned than anything else.

Toby looked at them through narrowed eyes, they stared back just as warily. After a few seconds of tense silence he scooted over to the side, creating a space large enough for the three of them to shuffle into place under the window.

Pulse still pounding in her ears, Claire slowly raised her gaze and peeked through the glass. Jim and Dr. Lake were inside sitting on the couch, across from them was an unfamiliar woman dressed in slacks and a blouse. It looked like they were all just talking right now, with the mystery woman occasionally taking notes, but Jim and Dr. Lake both looked incredibly tense.

Seeing how there wasn’t too much action going on right now, Claire’s eyes flickered over from the window to her side “Toby,” she whispered from the corner of her mouth “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here!?”

“Practicing our underwater basket weaving,” Mary leaned across Claire to hiss at him “What does it look like we’re doing!?”

“It looks like you’re spying on Jim and Dr. Lake!”

“I could say the same about you!”

“Why are you even--”

“Guys quiet!” Darci hushed them as loud as she could without blowing their cover “Something’s happening,”

Four sets of eyes swiveled back up to the window. Someone new had entered the room, an older man in khakis and a button up shirt. He was holding up a large t-shirt, based on the way he was glancing back and forth between the shirt and Jim and Dr. Lake it looked like he was asking them something about it.

“That’s Chuck,” Darci whispered “He’s my dad’s partner,”

Chuck kept speaking for a few more seconds, then the woman on the couch said something and stood up. In response Chuck put down the shirt and they all got to their feet, turned, and headed towards the stairs.

As soon as the last person disappeared upstairs Claire let out a shaky breath. Looks like they were back to waiting.

“I’m here because I saw the car from across the street and came over to investigate,” Toby said in a low murmur, not even turning his head to speak “What I want to know is why you guys are here,”

Claire squirmed, her eyes were locked on the top of the stairs, but she could practically hear the suspicious frown etched into Toby’s face “Sorry Toby but right now we really need to focus on this, I promise we’ll explain everything later,”

She couldn’t see what his face looked like after hearing that, but after letting out a sigh he sat back and didn’t say anything else.

None of them said anything for a long time, all intensely focused on the window, waiting for something to happen. What Claire didn’t know.

If anything the dead quiet coming from the house made everything worse. At least with shouting and screaming they would know what was going on, but silence...that could mean a lot of things.

They all felt the tension, the only noises coming from them the occasional rattle of leaves and sticks when someone shifted around in the bush to try and avoid the worst of the poking branches. Waiting and waiting as their nerves wound tighter and tighter.

Finally, after the longest twenty minutes of Claire's life, everyone in the house came back down the stairs. The four of them letting out small, simultaneous sighs of relief.

Meanwhile everyone inside went into the kitchen, mystery woman opening drawers and cabinets still talking to Jim and Dr. Lake. At first everything looked normal, then Claire started to notice. The little flinches Jim made whenever mystery woman spoke to him. How Dr. Lake seemed to wince every time she answered a question.

Things were definitely heating up.

Then from out of nowhere Jim put his foot up on a chair and rolled up his pant leg, talking and gesturing towards his ankle. Both mystery woman and Chuck were looking at his leg intently.

Ok this was weird, Claire could understand CPS talking and going through people’s stuff, even checking the kids out if they were super bruised and beat up or something. But why the hell were they looking at Jim’s--

A lightbulb flicked on in her brain.

Last November. Jim had come back from a camping trip with a bandage around his ankle.

He told them it was from a fox bite.

Before her brain could fully process what this could mean, Jim put his foot down just as abruptly as he’d lifted it, turned, and headed up the stairs. Everyone one in the room watched him go but no one tried to stop him.

After Jim left Dr. Lake and mystery woman sat down at the table and kept talking. For a little while things looked more or less normal. But at this point Claire knew better. She kept her eyes on Dr. Lake, watching as the conversion went on. Watching as the corners of her mouth twisted more and more until it looked like she’d been chewing on a lemon. How her eyes crinkled at the edges, forcing her to blink more than usual.

It looked like Dr. Lake was about to cry.

Heat filled Claire’s cheeks even as she kept up her surveillance. Despite everything else that was going on it still felt weird to spy on someone who looked like they were about to burst into tears.

But why was she so upset? Claire could understand better if Dr. Lake got mad or defensive after talking to the CPS workers who were accusing her of being a bad mom, but why was she--

Suddenly mystery woman stood and tore a piece of paper out of her notebook, sliding it towards Dr. Lake. Who scribbled something on it before sliding it back. Mystery woman handed some more papers to her as they both spoke a little more, then she and Chuck headed towards the door.

“Follow them,” Darci spoke up in a voice that was barely audible “We need to hear what they’re talking about,”

Moving as fast as they could without making noise, the four of them hastily crawled through the bushes until they were right next to the car in the driveway, watching the two adults steadily approach.

Chuck spoke up first “So, what did you think?”

Claire held her breath.

“It’s too soon to say anything for sure,” mystery woman quickly tucked her notebook into her purse before getting out the car keys “But she definitely seems controlling, and I do not like how often their stories contradicted each other,”

Her legs were starting to cramp and her hands were scratched raw from branches and thorns, but Claire couldn’t care less. Her entire world had narrowed down to the two voices less than six feet away, leaning forward as much as she could without breaching the bush.

“I can’t imagine how much harder this would have been if we didn’t have the warrant,” Chuck added, slipping his hands into his pockets “Thank god that teacher added another report on top of Louis’s,”

Darci gasped. In a flash Mary clapped a hand over her mouth, snapping her head over and piercing the adults with a hawk-like gaze.

Fortunately the sound went unnoticed and they continued on to the car without missing a beat.

But what did he mean about a second report?

Darci’s dad had made a report after they’d talked to him, so where did a second one come from?

Chuck shook his head, stepping around and getting into the passenger’s seat “And did you see those scars? Animal bite my ass,”

A jagged lump of ice dropped in Claire’s ribcage.

No. Dr. Lake couldn’t have.

Jim might have been dodgy about the whole basement thing but there was no way he wouldn’t tell them if his mom was--

“I couldn’t agree more,” mystery woman put the key in and started the engine “Those marks were made with a scalpel, no buts about it,”

For a moment she forgot how to breath, lungs frozen, the chill spreading out from her chest across her whole body.

The sounds of the car pulling out and driving away seemed a million miles away.

Scalpel marks. Not animal bites.

Her stomach was rolling. She’d never believed people could puke from bad news alone until this moment.

Before today Claire thought that the worst thing happening to Jim was being locked in the basement but now--

Now she didn’t know what to think.

A gentle tug on the elbow brought her back to reality “My house, quick,” Toby hissed.

Following Toby’s lead, the four of them scurried around the cul de sac, taking the long way and keeping to the bushes to avoid being spotted. At the end they had to dart back out into plain sight while Toby fumbled with his door lock. Claire noticed Mary kept glancing behind them towards Jim’s house as he did. Finally Toby was able to get the door open, all of them rushing in. He shut the door behind him, letting out a whoosh of air as he sagged against it in relief. Claire, Mary, and Darci all letting out similar sighs.

At last. Safe.

“Toby pie?”

They all jumped like they’d stepped on live wires.

“Is that you?” his Nana’s voice continued to call out from the kitchen “Are your friends with you?”

Toby was perched against the door, fingers stiffened into claws and spine ramrod straight “Yeah, uh…. we all came over to work on our...history project,” he started gesturing wildly toward the stairs “Just need to all go upstairs where we can...talk, about our project,”

Claire could take a hint. She turned and jogged up the stairs, Darci and Mary hot on her heels.

“Do you kids want any refreshments?” Nana asked again.

“No thanks Mrs. D,” Mary shouted back as they booked it out of there.

“Well let me know if you change your minds dearies,”

They all hurried into Toby’s bedroom, where hopefully they could talk in private, Toby tailing them in and then gently shutting the door behind him.

For a moment they all just stood in silence, too wired and frazzled to even try for conversation.

It didn’t last long.

“What the actual fuck was all that!?” Mary shrieked.

Claire slumped against the wall, hands shaking “I think...I think there’s more going on than we first thought,”

“What I want to know is who filed that other report,” Darci gripped her elbows, hugging herself “He said it was a teacher, but which teacher was it and why did they do it?”

“It was Mr. Strickler,”

They all slowly turned towards Toby.

Toby met their gazes without flinching, his expression pinched and tense, but Claire could see traces of steel underneath it “And he did it because I told him,”

He plunked down on his bed, head drooping, the words all coming out in a rush “I know it was an extreme step-- and I totally took the nuclear option-- and this is going to screw a lot of things up for Jim and Dr. Lake, but I couldn’t stand by and do nothing!”

Claire glanced over at Mary and Darci, the three of them sharing an uneasy look.

“What?” Toby glanced back and forth between them

“Toby….” Darci gently sat down next to him “We called CPS….also,”

He blinked “You what?”

“We went and talked to my dad about Jim...it’s like you said, we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, not with what was going on,”

Toby’s eyes got huge “The second report…”

“And it’s a damn good thing we did,” Mary screeched, startling the rest of them “Did you hear them-- Jim’s mom went nuts on him with a scalpel!”

Both Claire and Toby flinched while Darci’s face curdled into a deep wince, like they seriously needed reminded of that part.

But now they knew. This went way beyond locked doors and curfews.

Jim’s mom was hurting him.

Claire stepped over and put a hand on Mary’s shoulder, partly to calm Mary down and partly to steady herself “That’s why we gotta keep our cool and focus. There could still be a lot more stuff we don’t know about going on, so we need to be ready for--”

“There is more,” Toby’s voice was deathly quiet “A lot more, I don’t know everything but I know a lot,”

Everyone in the room went still.

“....what do you mean?” Darci said, voice barely above a whisper.

When he look up at them Toby’s expression was dark “Back when we were in Elementary school his mom fell asleep at the wheel while we were in the back seat, a semi truck nearly hit us,”

Mary’s mouth fell open, stunned into silence. Darci folded her arms against her stomach, face green. Claire didn’t react, she couldn’t even if she wanted to, pushed by everything that had happened to a place beyond shock.

“Jim does almost all of the chores at their house,” Toby kept going, voice a monotone “Has since he was in Elementary school. Back then Dr. Lake would never let anyone babysit him, not even Nana. When we were in fourth grade she said she got him a babysitter for work nights but I think she was leaving him home alone,”

Darci’s jaw worked up and down, struggling for words she couldn’t manage to find. Next to her Claire could see the blood draining from Mary’s face leaving her the color of wax.

And it wasn’t like she was much better, Claire could hear her heartbeat booming in her ears, skull light and head swimming. She was about half a second away from passing out.

“Every Halloween since I’ve known him his mom never let him trick or treat, not once. When we were in the mole scouts he got kicked out for missing too many meetings, he said it was because he got sick but it happened way too often for that to be true,”

His voice dropped even lower “They go on camping trips all the time, always to the middle of nowhere, and always just the two of them,”

The next part was so quiet Claire almost didn’t hear it, almost.

“They never take pictures of their trips. And once when we were in middle school Jim came back with his entire back covered in bruises, and the last time he came back with cuts on his ankle,”

Claire was shaking all over, her grip on Mary’s shoulder not enough to anchor her any more. She pried her fingers off one by one, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid falling down, and took a seat at the desk chair.

What else. What other horrible things were going on in Jim’s house that they’d had no idea about?

All those months Claire had spent crushing on him how could she have been completely blind to...to...

She didn’t know how much more Toby had to say, but if he kept going Claire was going to faint.

“Toby,” Claire spoke up in a breathless voice “Stop, please,”

He complied, netting his fingers together and hanging his head.

Silence weighed over them like a lead blanket, heavy and suffocating.

“Oh my god,” Darci practically whimpered “What do we even do?”

If the deafening quiet that followed her question was anything to go by, none of them knew the answer to that question.

All of a sudden the loud ringing of a phone went off, causing all of them to jump. Toby pulled out his offending device, motions jittery, only for his eyes to bug out once he spotted the screen “It’s Jim!”

Claire’s heart shot up into her throat for the second time today. Jim was calling, why? Had he figured out what they’d done?

Toby fumbled with his phone before setting it on his desk “I’m going to put it on speaker,” he glanced from side to side at them “No one say anything,”

Both Claire and Darci nodded, Mary making the zipping motion over her own lips while scurrying up even closer. No doubt wanting to hear every detail even without being able to contribute to the conversation.

With a slight but unmistakable quiver to his fingers, Toby tapped his phone screen twice “Hey Jimbo,” his cheerful tone a direct contrast to the anxious look on his face “How’s it hanging?”

“Toby…” Jim’s voice echoed out of the device “Can you just….talk about something?”

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know, I just--” his voice cracked and Claire could practically see him hunched over, holding himself in a desperate attempt to keep from breaking down “I...I just had the worst thing happen and I really want to just listen to your voice right now,”

“Oh….ok,” Toby reached over and picked up a rock sitting on the corner of the desk “I just got a new bismuth from Nana for my rock collection,”

“Uh huh,”

Taking that ‘Uh huh’ as a sign of approval, Toby kept going “She bought it from one of her friends in her bingo club. She doesn’t remember where her friend got it, but because it’s in crystal form it must have been made by someone. Bismuth crystals are grown a lot in labs, but if you know what you’re doing you can also grow it in your own kitchen....”

Half tuning out Toby’s rant, Claire kept her eyes locked on the phone, waiting for Jim’s voice to emerge from it again. Without even meaning to, she found herself leaning over slightly towards the silent device, Darci and Mary mirroring her actions. Quick, occasional glances at her watch told Claire that Toby’s bismuth ramble had been going for a little over ten minutes.

“...so it turns out bismuth does decay into thallium, but it’s half life is like twenty billion years, so I can see why they missed that,” Toby paused, the phone emanating nothing but silence “You still there Jimbo?”

“Yeah,” Jim’s voice rang out, causing everyone to instantly perk up “I’m here,”

“Are you...are you doing better now?”

“I…” Jim let out a gusty sigh, deeper than Claire thought him capable of “Yes, I’m doing better,”

Toby bit his lip, weighing over something in his mind “So...what happened? Anything I can help out with?”

The phone sat silently on the desk.

“Jim,” a tremor had entered Toby’s voice, uncertainty etching deep lines into his face “Did you hear me?”

Claire was bent so far towards the phone so much she was practically hanging out of her seat, Darci right there with her, and Mary standing hunched over with her face just inches away from the screen.

“Toby,” Jim’s voice was surprisingly hard, causing them all to jolt back “I need to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me,”

Oh.

Oh no.

The panicky look on Toby’s face matched Darci and Mary’s; and undoubtedly Claire’s to.

“Sure,” Toby’s expression was strained with the effort of keeping his voice light “What is it?”

“Toby, do you--” Jim’s voice cracked. “Did you…”

He trailed off, the phone staying silent for so long Claire wondered if he’d hung up.

Toby wrung his hands together “Yeah Jim? You still there?”

“Toby do you...do you…. do you want to have lunch at the diner tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Toby deflated, along with the rest of them.

That was surprisingly anticlimactic. Although Claire was about ninety nine percent sure that wasn’t what Jim had originally planned on asking.

“Ok sure, sounds great, I’ll run it by the girls,” his eyes flickered towards them “But I think that they’ll be down for that,”

Jim let out a husky sigh,

And they certainly had a lot bigger things to worry about right now, but did everyone’s voice sound this much deeper over the phone? Jim had practically gone from a tenor to a bass.

“Thanks Tobes, I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Awesome, see you then, bye Jimbo,”

“Bye Toby,”

Toby tapped his phone again, shutting off Jim’s voice and filling the room with silence once again.

Finally Claire couldn’t stand it any longer “Ok, this is really bad, like a lot worse than any of us were thinking, but it sounds like Jim doesn’t know that we were the ones who told on him. And we need to keep it that way,”

“But Claire…” Darci said hesitantly “I really think we need to be honest about this. You remember how bad Jim freaked out when we tried to talk to the first time he. I really think it would be better if we told him that we called CPS ourselves right away. If he finds out later from other people…”

“You...you’re not wrong, and we should tell him eventually, but….” Claire let out a breath, bracing herself “But you heard what your dad said, we have to stay in contact with Jim in case the investigation doesn’t come up with anything, and I don’t want to risk Jim giving us all the glacial shoulder again,”

Her voice nearly broke as she forced the next words out “Especially if his mom….hurts him again,”

“Claire’s right,” Toby stood up “And there could still be even more stuff I don’t know about, we can’t risk Jim cutting us off again,”

By now Mary was so pale she practically looked anemic, but she still managed to find her voice “Yeah, we have to be there for him in case his mom does something….even worse,”

Claire couldn’t help but shudder a little at that.

Darci swallowed hard “You’re right, our first priority is staying in the loop with him. So we play dumb and don’t let Jim know we made the call, for now,”

All of them nodded along with her words in silent agreement

Claire didn’t feel great about keeping secrets like this, especially since it was four on one. But Jim freezing them out the way he did had been scary. Bottom line they couldn’t risk that happening again, even if that meant they had to lie to him.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #A Secret's Worth #fanfic #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #mary wang #darci scott #toby domzalski #Barbara Lake #jim lake jr #original character(s)

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not-so-honorable-honor · 3 years

Text

Trophy Necklace

HOOBOY THIS IS. 2454 words of just Silv going ham on someone, its also when they started their tooth necklace, or rather trophy necklace I should say

TW: Very bloody, very gory, there is death and theres some harassment as well. Stuff with eyeballs and broken bones!!!

To say Silvally knew what happened would be a lie. They didn’t know. It was all a blur to them, it all happened so fast they didn’t have time to process what went down until it well, went down. The last thing they can clearly remember before this happened was them walking, collecting things that they thought were pretty. They were just wandering, waiting for their papa to be done with business, exploring the unknown place. Their stomach growled, telling them to turn back to their papa, but they didn’t listen, the forest was neat and papa was busy! So they continued to trot along the forest grounds.

They hummed as they walked, taking in the pretty forest. They were surrounded by these huge trees, and what were those? They paused and looked over at what they thought was a mushroom. But why was it that big, mushrooms aren’t supposed to get that big! They set their backpack down. The backpack was cowboy themed, and it was a wonder how they fit so many things into the small brown bag.

Mikell at least was always surprised and a little impressed at just how much his child was able to fit into that backpack of theirs. Claire made it for them, for a birthday years ago, and things his younger sister makes usually last pretty damn long. The bag itself was a dusty brown, with lighter brown cowboy hats all over it. It was a relatively small bag, it was made for a child after all. While Mikell never really used it, Claire also made a leash to hook onto the backpack, in case he needed to keep Silv close, considering how much they run off and away all the time.

And Silv wore the thing strangely. Their wings were small enough that they could just slip them through with their arms, instead of wearing the thing on their front like what the others normally do. And that was another thing, no matter how hard Silvally tried, or how hard they worked at flying, they just never could get a hold of it. And they’ve tried so many times to fly, but they just never got the hang of it. Their wings would flap and flap, just like how they've been told and shown, and like how the other kids do it, but they simply just cannot do it. Silvally cannot fly, and they hate that fact.

One of the few perks about not being able to fly is being able to wear backpacks and things on your back, hence why they’re wearing the cowboy bag on their back. But they kept walking, going towards the tree. It was huge, almost as tall as the dark oak trees around them. They smiled, an ear to ear smile and quickly shook off their bag, dropping it beside them without a care. They struggled to take off their gloves, the gloves were thick, and they wore them out because without them on, they tend to hurt not only others, but also themselves.

And they struggled for a few minutes before they decided to just make it work with the gloves on. They approached the mushroom tree thing again and looked up, putting a hand on it. Woah. They took a couple steps back, readying themselves. And once they thought they were ready they started running at the tree, as fast as their little body would take them, and they jumped onto the tree, holding on for dear life. They stopped to look down, the jump got them pretty high up. They smiled again and started to clamber up the tree.

They were about halfway up before they looked down again, pausing when they saw someone. That wasn’t anyone they knew. They stared down at the person, who seemed to be doing something with their bag. Wait a damn minute, that person is stealing! Their eyes widened as they let go of the mushroom tree with their legs, sliding down the tree quickly. Once their feet touched the ground they ran over to the person and to their bag.

“That's mine! Can you give it back please?” They asked, looking up slightly at the person, now having a better look of them. Silv looked up to the person's upper chest, but didn’t look higher than that. The person paused, looking down at them. They raised a brow at the child, scoffing at them. “Please mister? I have lots of things in there I want to show my papa!” They said, trying to jump to grab the bag. The person chuckled and raised it up higher, so they couldn’t before their face fell.

“What exactly? Sticks and rocks? Wow, i’d be so happy if I was your dad to get some fucking sticks.” They said, still glaring down at the small child. Who only smiled and nodded their head quickly. Because their papa would be happy to get sticks and rocks from them. The person rolled their eyes, sighing heavily. “I was being sarcastic. Do you know what that means, or is your little tiny brain not quite comprehending big words yet?” They paused, their smile falling. They weren’t quite frowning but they didn’t understand. Why would someone be upset to get a stick?

“But he will be excited and happy! He loves the things I find and give him!” They exclaimed, trying to defend themselves, but the stranger wouldn’t listen. They only scoffed and rolled their eyes again. Silv started to frown at this, why didn’t the stranger believe them? “He will! I’ll go get him to show you!” They turned around, taking a step away from the stranger, to go get their dad. But the stranger grabbed their arm and yanked them forward again. Their force was enough to rip the glove off their left hand, the piece of fabric going flying. And they stumbled, almost falling on their face because of the force.

“No, you’re going to apologize and explain why you were so rude, child.” The stranger said, setting their backpack down. Silv paused to process what the stranger was saying, but they weren’t rude at all! All they did was ask for their bag back and say they were going to get their papa. How was that rude, they certainly didn’t think it was rude, they were simply stating things that they knew. They frowned, looking down at the ground, trying to see how what they said was rude, because to them, it wasn’t rude. The stranger huffed, grabbing their right arm, and picking them up with it.

At least that's what the stranger tried to do.

They screeched, starting to flail, and the sudden movements plus the grip the stranger had caused their other glove to fall off. Or rather for them to fall down onto their ass, panicked, holding their arm and now missing both their gloves. The man huffed, throwing the glove down and glaring at them. “You little shit. You really think you can treat people like this and get away with it? What the hell is wrong with you.” Silv frowned, still holding their arm as they looked down, they wanted their dad but he was so far right now… The man snapped his fingers in front of their face to get them to look at him. Seeing that he had bent down to their level, they quickly looked away, they didn’t want to deal with eye contact.

It was just too much for them. Their world was spinning.

The man in front of them scoffed again. “Look at me when I speak to you.” They shook their head, their hands moving to hold tug at their hair. They didn’t want to look at the man, he was scary, he hurt them, they wanted nothing to do with him. They wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t let them, and they didn’t know where they would go. The man sighed heavily, before grabbing Silvs arms and tugging them down, forcefully looking directly into their eyes. “Look at someone when they speak, stupid. It's polite.” Their eyes widened, oh no, this was all just so much for them, it was too much all at once.

And they lunged. The rest from there was a blur to them. The only thing that was clear to them was the feeling of their talons sinking into skin. And the screams, those were the other clear things to them. Their claws were no match for soft human flesh, easily slicing through it like it was warm butter. They were screaming as well a loud, powerful angry scream. Their clothes were covered in blood and dirt, but they didn’t care. They just kept slicing, hitting, biting, kicking, and most of all, screaming.

Silvally had the man on the ground, tearing into him like a wild animal tears into their next meal. They just didn’t stop. Not until they saw bones and guts. And even when the man's chest had been ripped open, ribs showing and guts spilling out, the child didn’t stop. Instead they focused on slicing up his intestines until they slipped out of their talons one too many times, simply pissing off the child, so they stopped, going back to his chest.

They looked at his neck, licking their lips slightly, before leaning their head down and taking a bite. They tugged furiously, trying to rip out a sizable chunk from the mans neck. This was when they stopped screaming, only stopping to down a large thick chunk of flesh. They wouldn’t stop until they got a nice rather large chunk of fresh raw human meat. And when they did tear the piece out, they looked up, their rather sharp pointy teeth making quick work of the flesh. They chewed it up and swallowed, pausing when they realized just how hungry they were. There wasn’t much meat left that wasn’t ripped to literal bits. But some of those larger organs… Oh how they looked delectable to Silvally.

Afterall, Silvally always liked the hearts out of all the organs papa gives them.

They shifted how they were sitting on the mans corpse, to get a better grasp on his ribs. They grabbed as many at a time as their talons could hold, and they tugged with all their might, snapping the bones unevenly. But they could care less right now, they were starving. They reached into the chest, grabbing and ripping the lungs out, throwing them off to the side to get to the heart. They grabbed it with their talons, pulling it out and smiling. It was still warm.

They wasted no time shoving the thing in their mouth, well, rather half of it into their mouth. They took a bite and quickly chewed and swallowed. Shoving the other half into their mouth. They chomped and chewed up the piece of meat like it was any other kind of meat. They panted softly as they sat there, they had calmed down a considerable amount by now. They didn’t even realize that they had been crying while doing this, and they still hadn’t realized.

They were covered in blood, absolutely covered. It had soaked into their orange overalls, it soaked into denim, turning their overalls from a nice soft orange to a darker more reddish, almost brown color. Their pastel pink shirt was blood red, it soaked up most of the blood. Their soft peach talons were dripping with blood, it was all the way up to their elbows. Normally they pride themselves on keeping their cowboy boots nice and clean, but as of now, they didn’t care. They were also coated in blood today. One wouldn’t be able to tell that anything the child was wearing was any other color, all someone could see was red.

And oh how it was on their face, all around their mouth, and their teeth coated in it. The blood was slowly dripping from their chin as they dug their talons into what little flesh the man had left, holding onto his shoulders. Claws in his shoulders. They panted, clinging to the corpse with their hands for dear life. Their wings were even coated in red, you could easily mistake them for some sort of tropical bird right now. They were still hungry, and about to pop out and eat the mans eyes.

And that's what they did. They let go off his shoulders, reaching their talons into his eyes, and stabbing them, pulling the eyeball out of his head, and cutting the optic nerve with their other hand and popping the eye into their mouth as if it was a grape. They then did the same thing to the other eye, taking their sweet time to not damage the eye more than they already had. They were looking around for where they threw the lungs before they heard a noise. Something was here. Or at least close to them.

Silvally froze, hearing a twig snap as their head spun around to look at what made the noise. They prayed it wasn't their papa. Not realizing that he probably heard their scream. Only it was him, it was Mikell, standing there, axe out. Yeah, he heard them. He looked around before his eyes landed on them, his gaze softening. He put away his axe, pausing to take in the situation. Babies first kill.

Mikell paused, chuckling softly before shaking his head. He smiled gently at Silv, causing them to sigh in relief, he wasn’t mad! “You hungry kid?” He gestured at the corpse. They shook their head before their stomach growled. Giving them away. Mikell shook his head and leaned down to pick up their gloves, grabbing their bag and putting them in there.

Silvally slowly got off the corpse, shaking off the blood. At least they shook off as much as they could. Mikell shook his head, holding onto the backpack. “Let's go home.” he said, starting to walk. But they paused, looking back to the body.

“Wait papa, I have one last thing that I want to do to him.” Mikell paused, and then shrugged. Giving them the okay to do what they wanted. And when they had that okay they went back to the body, opening the mouth and ripping out the canine teeth. They smiled ear to ear, holding their trophy in their talons. Mikell shook his head, a faint smile on his face. He was proud. A proud papa. And once they had the teeth they hopped up and ran over to him, holding onto his hand with their free hand.

No one ever found Aarons body, no one knew what happened to him, the only people that know are Silvally and Mikell.

#silvally bright #tw// blood #tw// gore #tw// harassment #tw// death #tw// eye trauma #tw// broken bones

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Cowboy.”

Wanted to try something new. Aliens meet different ways of living. Was trying to really capture the small town farming feel in this one. Granted I grew up in and near places like this but was from the burbs technically, so, lol, hopefully I did it justice.

The sky over Jakar was a light violet purple.

Strings of long striated clouds cut across the sky at intervals looking like the ripples you see on the face of a sand dune. The Sun hadn’t yet risen hiding just below the distant horizon. The air around them was warm, but not tropical, rather moderate.

Standing on the loading ramp to the Harbinger and staring out over the strange moon, they could see for miles and miles onto the unbroken horizon. Under the purple sky, there were no trees or rocks, just acres and acres of evenly spaced crops gently rolling over minute hills and shallow divots in the earth. A gently wind blew up from their front rolling over the ground and bringing with it the cool moist scent of fertile dirt.

The sun inched upwards over the horizon, casting a honeyed yellow glow over an unbroken sea of green. With the engines of the ship off, and not a soul in sight, the scene before them was absolutely silent, almost surreal.

As they watched, a ripple of wind blew up from their right churning the green sea before them into a stormy sea. The plant stalks rolled in waves under the slow push of the wind, which, when it reached them, brought the subtle whisper of leaves brushing over each other.

All together, if they closed their eyes, they could almost imagine the sound of a distant sea.

Both Krill and sunny were riveted to that quiet morning in fascination.

They had never known a thing to be so beautiful, so quiet.

And even though the land was touched by man, the quiet serenity almost had them forgetting that fact.

They stood like that for many minutes, enjoying the silence until a distant sound rose up from the horizon.

Krill craned his neck and Sunny shaded her eyes.

It can in beats of four, a rhythmic thudding of…. something .

They were alerted by the dust cloud, brown tinged purple rising up from the right.

Looking a little longer,they watched as a very strange creature galloped towards them. The animal had four legs, a long snout, a thick neck, and streams of long hair flying from it’s head and rump. THe joints of its front legs faced the wrong direction.

Krill shifted back up the ramp a little ways.

The beats of the animal’s feet grew louder as it got closer, and only then was Krill able to see that, to his shock and dismay, there was a human riding astride it’s back, just casually sitting atop the one ton beast as if it was nothing bouncing up and down with the animal’s jostling movements.

He stared dumbstruck alongside Sunny as the human pulled to a stop gently tugging at the contraption which had been fixed around the animal’s head.

A familiar tawny, and black dog came chasing after her tail wagging, her ears perked.

Waffles skidded to a slow trot and began frantically sniffing through the nearby plot of plants.

Sunny and Krill stepped forward as the human, turned to look at them, restings his hands against his upper thighs as the beast lowered it’s head to sniff at the ground.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Sunny asked the commander.

“A better question is what the hell are you riding.” Krill could already tell this day was going to make him angry, “Aren't you well aware that falling off that thing could kill you, not to mention if it decided to cave your head in with its feet.”

Commander Vir pulled the patterned cloth triangle down from around his face, eyes mostly shadowed by the brim of the very dorky hat he was wearing. The shirt he had on was long sleeve and mid range blue in color with a collar, and matching jeans with a very strange set of heeled boots.

“Forgot you've never seen a horse before.”

He kicked one of his feet up over the top the back of the creature and let himself gently down onto the dirt.

The large animal turned it’s massive head, nudging him in the chest with it’s soft pink snout.

He smiled and rubbed it’s nose.

“A horse?”

“Yes, one of man’s greatest achievements.”

The horse threw its head up and down as if in agreement.

“A knobby kneed dog creature?”

“No a knobby kneed beast of burden, from the back of which humanity conquered the world. He patted it’s neck, “These guys are the reason humanity got as far as it did, at least one fo the reasons.

Krill stared at the ‘horse’ nervously staring into its wide dark eyes, sensing a hint of cunning intelligence that he did not particularly appreciate. Sunny stepped forward a bit, and the horse lifted it’s head, wide nostrils flaring menacingly.

It stepped back, and the commander held firm, “Woah, easy girl. It’s just sunny.”

The horse didn’t seem convinced, and Sunny stayed at a polite distance.

“Commander, I must insist, that beast could kick your head in if agitated.”

“Oh I know. Believe you me I know.”

The horse tossed it’s head.

“Can we get back to the important question of….. What the hell are you wearing?”

He looked down, “This, my fine friend is the historic gear of the Cowboy, and early symbol of the west, your rough and tumble man’s man who lived rough, worked hard, and is, arguably the symbol of human manifest destiny.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

The commander sighed, “Look they were total badasses who rode horses, shot guns, and drank too much.”

“Badasses who wore heels?” Sunny wondered

“Yes, yes they were.”

“And where did you get that outfit exactly?”

He tugged at the shirt rather proudly, “My mother made it for me, you know because that is what she does for a living.”

“Do you often commission really dumb clothing from your mother.” Sunny continued to tease.

“I have an outfit for every major time period from here to to the early Byzantine empire.” He bragged, not that it meant anything.

Her continued teasing was cut off as more noises rose up from the distance, the sound of hooves and the shrill chatter of, what Sunny could only assume was the horses. A larger dust cloud was riding up this time, and as she watched, another group of human came riding down the track. At least three of them riding horseback and wearing outfits much the same as the commander now wore. Though one of them was riding on the front of a strange wooden vehicle pulled by the creatures.

And krill had thought current human technology was primitive.

The two men, and one woman came to a halt just to their side, and looking them over, Krill couldn't help but notice the strange nature of these humans, tanned dark by the sun, their skin tough and calloused, especially about the hands. Though it was early morning they were already covered in dust. One of them touched the brim of his hat upon seeing them and dismounted from his horse walking over to shake the commander’s hand.

“I’m gonna assume your Commander Vir.” He looked around, “Seeing as you’re the only human here.”

“Yes sir.”

His voice was deep, and rather slow with a sort of relaxing quality to it, though there was an edge of steel behind his voice, “Didn’t think you fancy space captains knew how to ride horses.”

“My father worked on one of the farming conglomerates when I was a boy. He made sure we knew how to ride.”

“Smart man.” The old human turned his steely brown eyes on them looking sunny and Krill up and down though he didn’t seem all that surprised. He held out a hand to sunny, “Looks like you’ve got plenty of hands to shake.”

She chirped a laugh and took his hand surprised at how strong he was, how rough his hands were.

Krill received a nod which was more than alright by him. He turned back and motioned to his companions, “Meet, Jack my son, and Liz y daughter. They volunteered to help out with our little problem.”

“Smugglers you were saying.”

“Yes. We think they are some of those Tesraki types using our fields as stop points. Wouldn’t mind it so much if they didn’t keep destroying the product. They tend to land where we plant the pink orbs-” He looked at sunny, “Think they are from your planet. A bitch to get to grow here, we have to cut the soil with imported volcanic ash to get them to grow, and every time those bastards show up we lose a yield.”

His daughter motioned at Sunny and Krill to climb up onto the strange wooden death machine with wheels. At first Krill refused, but sunny grabbed him and hauled him upwards, sitting on one of the wooden benches.

Krill reused to sit.

He could see splinters.

“They aren’t supposed to be in for another few days though.” The two men had mounted their horses and were riding side by side now as the ‘what krill learned to be a cart’ started up, rolling over the uneven ground and threatening to rattle his brains out of his head.

“Doesn’t this thing have shocks.” he moaned

The humans laughed, and the head human turned back to look at him, “Don’t need socks on a wagon…..” He paused, “This one ain’t mch for country livin’”

The commander snorted, “He isn’t much for anything new. Guess you could say he’s a big city surgeon. I don’t think his species has been without automated assistance for the past ten thousand years. But Sunny there probably gets it, her clan was mainly gatherer types.”

“Yeah, I heard about the Drev. Don’t live so differently from us all told.” beside them lines and lines of crops grew up in the distance, a never ending line broken up by nothing more than a distant building rising many stories above the fields. Massive silver constructions in cylinders with pointy tops.

“What are those?” Sunny asked, pointing.

The daughter looked “Those are silos. Once we harvest the produce, all the food goes in there for storage until we sell it.”

“So much food.” Sunny muttered

Krill didn’t like the look of them, they appeared dangerous. Up ahead of them, the dog, waffles seemed to be enjoying herself romping about over the dirt road and through the first few lines of plants her tongue lolling her ears up.

“Your Shepherd seems happy.” The man commented, “Better then being cooped up in a flying tin can.”

“Yeah , she doesn’t get to go outside much these days.”

Looking up into the distance, Krill could just make out a slow break on the horizon. They were trees as far as he could tell, which surprised him since they seemed far to big to be here, as unnatural a species as they were.

“Are those oak trees?” The Captain asked, incredulous.

“That they are, got them imported in one of those massive fraighters. Putting them in the ground was complete bullshit, but they took surprisingly well. We wanted the two to be a bit more cozy.

The closer they got to town the more people they could see. Children ran in and out of the crop lines chasing each other and laughing.

Women carried baskets with them plucking bright red berries from tall growths of plants turning to wave at them as they passed.

Horses loitered, tied up on the sides of the road next to large, elegant houses in a style Krill had never seen before.

“Wow.” The commander muttered, “This is…. Wow.”

The man smiled, “Much as I love earth, you can’t live like this any more. No more small towns. When I heard how cheep they were selling land up here for, I couldn’t resist. Worked for one of those corporations like your father, and that’s when I heard about the deal going on. Come up here, farm the land and get the property for free.” He motioned to the houses and the barns, “Built most of it with our own two hands. Machinery is a bitch to get out here, so most everything we make by ourselves.”

Krill and sunny stared on in complete fascination. The wooden buildings held together by nothing more than sharp metal spikes, still multiple stories tall and with glass windows. What little technology there was was overshadowed by just how provincial everything was. People carrying buckets of water with their own two hands, polishing boots, and sawing off planks of wood with manual blades.

And despite that, how much more difficult everything probably was, they seemed happy. The people themselves were rough, but well put together, tanned skin, and bright eyes over calloused hands and straight backed postures full of confidence and pride. As they rode past they received nothing but friendly smiles and waved greetings.

Adam was practically a pampered, prim little pretty boy in comparison to the rest, and he was a one eyed, peg legged, space captain for intents and purposes.

A pleasantly plump dark skinned woman waved at them from her porch, where she sat in a very strange looking chair, which instead of legs, had skids? And rocked when she shifted her weight. Which seemed to be the intention.

Sunny and Krill raised their hands back, not sure of what else to do.

The man at the front sighed, “Man you can’t live like this anymore, not on earth anyway.”

Commander vir was looking around with an appreciative smile, “it’s like going back in time. Dam…. it’s nice here.”

“Almost makes you want to get your feet back on solid dirt?” The man wondered

The commander laughed, “I don’t think so. Your town is great, but there is nothing like the majesty of waking up and seeing the rings of saturn outside our bedroom window, or a nebulae thousands of light years wide, or stepping out of the ship and just…. Floating weightless like nothing can hold you down ever again.”

The man shuttered, “Can’t imagine.”

“Can’t imagine but can’t forget.”

Adam’s horse tossed it’s head and he patted it on the neck.

The other human shook his head, “Cut from a different mold I guess. I’d like nothing more than an honest day’s work under the sun getting my hands dirty. None of that outer space politics.”

Adam laughed, “I suppose I forget about politics most of the time. Honestly consider myself more of an adventurer discovering new planets and new species bravely going where no man has gone before sort of thing.”

The two of them laughed together.

Krill wondered at the strangeness of humanity. Here were two men, one of them a ship captain venturing into the unknown on one of the most advanced pieces of human technology ever created flying shuttles, talking with aliens and traversing the galaxy, while there was another human a lover of dirt beneath his hands, with no desire to leave his home, or likely even go outside it’s farm’s radius, content with living the same day for the rest of his life, with the same people, building everything with his hands, living without what seemed to be the most basic of human technologies.

And here they were sitting together speaking and laughing.

Getting along despite being so different.

Because humans can just do that.

Humans understand.

#humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #Earth is space Ausralia #earth is a deathworld

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neon-junkie · 3 years

Note

HIIIIII UR NEW WILLSCUELLA FIC WAS SO CUTE I WISH THERE WAS MORE WILLSCUELLA CONTENT *CRIES* THANK U THOSE BOYS ARE ALL THATS KEEPING ME GOING. ID LOVE IT IF U WROTE ABOUT THEM MORE!!

THANK YOU <3 when I managed to glitch into the rdr2 Mexico map the other week, I went up onto that big cliff north of Diez Corona and just gormed at my TV cause the view up there is so pretty ;-; so here’s a lil RDR1 Willscuella fic based off that sight I saw the other week

"Nue.. new... neuo..." Bill continues to grumble, attempting to pronounce a non-English word. Javier knows by now that Bill's never going to get it, even if he broke the word down and took his time with it, but Bill continues to 'attempt' his pronunciation. "Bill... come on," Javier sighs, slowing his mount down slightly so Bill can catch up to him. They'd been riding inline whilst passing north of Diez Corona, traveling down the somewhat busy roads as they headed further south, trying to get as far from New Austin (and John) as they can. Javier had paddled across the river, sneaking into the state to pick Bill up and save his ass, and the two had only just returned. Bill was adamant about paddling the canoe on the way back, saying it's the least he could do since Javier had agreed to bail him out, so Javier relaxed and enjoyed the sight of Bill struggling to paddle them to the other side. Bill's still got his eyes forward, his brain ticking away as he continues trying to figure out how to pronounce the name of the state they're in. Javier had told him off for just calling it Mexico, and said that if he was going to stay here a while, then the least he could do was learn a little bit of the language. "Let's try it again, huh? Say it with me, Bill. Nue-vo Par-ai-so," Javier says slowly. "New... Neuo... Shit!" Bill grumbles again, exhaling heavily. Javier sighs, rolling his eyes dramatically as he steers off the road, finding his own trail amongst the dirt. "Aye, I give up with you, Bill," Javier tuts, peering over at Bill. He knows that Bill's probably never going to get it; he's known Bill for well over a decade, a very long decade, and even after things had gone south and they'd split off, Javier still ended up helping the larger man out when he needed it. "I don't blame you. I would, if I were you," Bill agrees, staring at the dirt rather than where they were heading, letting his mount lead the way.

"We'll hitch the horses here. I want some lunch," Javier says as he comes to a halt, hitching his horse on what's left of a tree and taking some food from his saddlebags. Bill does the same, almost standing on another cactus in the process. That's not the first time he's gotten close to hurting himself, though he's managed a few times since they'd arrived. Bill pulls some food from his own saddlebags then peers his head around, realizing that Javier has wandered from his sight. He notices Javiers pointy sombrero and follows it, realizing that Javier had continued forward a few paces, heading down onto a small ledge. Bill takes a seat next to Javier, using the small ledge as shade as they lean back against it. He finally lifts his head up to notice where they were and the sight below them. They'd been traveling along a cliff, overlooking the vast Mexican landscape. There's an array of buttes below, surrounded by the dry desert and an odd sprinkle of plants. The heat can be seen radiating from the earth, small waves rising from the sand, making Bill rub his eyes just to ensure he's seeing things correctly. Javier notices the way Bill's looking at the landscape. He thought Bill had seen it all before with the dryness of New Austin, but Bill had never seen a butte before, nor how the earth was a vibrant gold shade rather than the dirty sand shade of New Austin. "You like what you see?" Javier asks, his mouth half-full with his food. His manners had gone out the window a long time ago, though Bill never bothered much with his. "Yeah, s'pretty," Bill tells him, finally dipping his head down to open the packaging to his food. "It's different to what I'm used to, I ain't seen stuff like that before," Bill comments as he points to the buttes, the large rock formations dotted about the landscape. "Yeah, Mexico's a beautiful country. I've told you that many times before, but now you get to see it for yourself," Javier says with a soft laugh, his mind flashing back to all those years ago where Javier would tell stories about his homeland around the campfire, enjoying the way his former gang members faces lit up as he described the landscape. "Finally," Bill nods, his gaze fixated on his food, but Javier snaps his head across to give Bill a confused look. "Finally?" Javier repeats. "Well, yeah. You has always said how pretty it is, 'n' now I get to see it for myself," Bill says with a shrug. "I never thought you cared for those stories? You never really said anything when I told them." "I didn't really know what to say, plus the others would always jump in with their questions 'n' stuff," Bill shrugs again. Javier pauses for a moment, going over all those events in his head. Bill seems unphased, focused on eating, whilst Javiers mouth remains empty as he thinks about his flashback. Javier eventually decides to remain silent, unsure of what to say, unsure if he should ask the many things that have been on his mind since they went their separate ways. Javier finally picks up once he's finished his meal, leaning back against the rock, his eyes gazing out at his mother country. "Bill?" he asks. "Mhm?" Bill replies, finishing off his food. "Did you ever think you'd end up here? As in, did you ever think you'd visit Mexico?" Javier questions. "Not really..." Bill answers. He opens his mouth again but quickly shuts it, his facial expression becoming focused as he runs through a few other answers in his head. "I thought... well, maybe..." Bill trails off, unsure of the right words. "You mean, you thought you would, but not like this?" Javier asks. "Yeah, not on these terms. Not on Marstons terms," Bill agrees, his brows furrowing slightly at the thought of John. "Yeah, I understand..." Javier sighs. He pauses for a moment, coming to terms with what he knows is going to happen. "You know, John isn't going to stop until he's got us." "Not unless we get him first," Bill says with a confident laugh. "You might be able to do that, but I can't..." Bill looks over at Javier, questioning why he won't stand up for himself. "Why?" he asks. "He's family, you know," Javier shrugs. "He ain't much family if he's tryna kill you." "I guess you're right." Javier and Bill remain in silence, enjoying the shade whilst it lasts, gazing out at the landscape and watching the clouds pass by. They both want to talk about the elephant in the room, about the way they split up all those years ago. Bill's eager to question why Javier even decided to help him in the first place, and Javier wants to ask why Bill contacted him, though he already knows it's because Bill has nobody left. Though Javier doesn't know that Bill's attempted to contact him before, he's written letter after letter but ended up scrunching up the paper and tossing it into the fire, never able to find the right things to say. "You wanna get going?" Javier finally speaks up, breaking the silence. "Sure," Bill nods in agreement. Javier's about to get up but Bill speaks again. "Can we... like... we know we is gonna die here. So, could we just.. you know..." Bill asks with a shrug. He keeps his gaze away from Javiers, not wanting Javier to see his flustered and unconfident face, nor wanting to see how Javier will react. Maybe Javier will push him off this cliff for asking such a thing, but Javier surprises him instead. "I know what you're asking," Javier tells him, his eyes wide. He doesn't bother hiding the smile on his face, nor the soft laugh he lets out. "Yeah, we can, Bill," Javier agrees. They both know their ends are near, but if they can enjoy their final moments together, then at least they'll die happy. They look at each other, a pair of old, tired men, gazing into each other's eyes like a bunch of lovestruck children. Javier removes him sombrero, setting it on his lap as he shuffles a little closer to Bill. He knows by now that Bill never removes his hat, he's always been so self-conscious of his balding. A pair of slightly chapped lips meet Javiers, and the two almost freeze up in the moment. It's been so many years since they'd last seen each other, even more since they'd kissed. Though they fall into sync, remembering just how they both like it; the right angles, the specific tilt so their noses don't bump, the soft biting to Bill's bottom lip that always drives him crazy. Bill reaches up to run his fingers into Javier's hair, short jagged locks that he's definitely cut himself. He remembers the way Javier would swat his hand away whenever he used to try that, not wanting to mess up his ponytail. The two stay connected for some time, attempting to catch up on some of the years they've missed, though they've got a long way to go to make up for it. Javier eventually breaks the kiss, knowing Bill could sit here for hours with his lips locked with the younger man. "Come on, old man," Javier says with a laugh. "Old man? You can't talk," Bill replies, his voice grumbly as always. "I haven't got any grey hairs yet, unlike you," Javier teases, stroking his thumb over the grey patch to Bill's moustache. Bill lets out a frustrated whimper but lets Javier have the last laugh, knowing he's in the right. Javier puts his sombrero back on and stands up, leading the way as they head back to the horses. The pair mount up, Javier leading the way as they continue on their travels. Their eyes catch each others every so often; Javier always smirks, making Bill's cheeks flush red, just like how they used to flirt across camp all those years ago. Javier can't help but smile every time he overhears Bill still trying to pronounce Nuevo Paraiso under his breath. He'll get it eventually.

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simsadventures · 4 years

Text

Duties: Chapter 2: New Day

Summary: Thor has to go and find an Omega for himself, according to his father. None of the available princesses from the neighbouring kingdoms, however, smell good enough for him. But what if Thor catches a heavenly scent, just outside the castle?

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, scenting, fluff

Word Count: 2801

A/N: Alpha Thor is back. And the reader appears for the first time. What do we all think about this? Let me know, feedback is gold :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

The morning was filled with people running around the castle, trying to get everything ready for Thor’s travels. Thor didn’t really want to take too many things or counsellors with him because he knew that it was all about the smell, and nobody else but him could decide that. He did have to take someone with him, and despite his father’s light protest, he decided to take his friends: Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun.

Odin wished for Thor to take Loki with him because there would be at least one son with some manners. The Allfather hoped to keep the good relations between the kingdom, and knowing Thor and his manners, there were some reserves when it came to letting him go alone. But Thor’s mother vouched for him, and who was Odin to say no to his wife?

Thor insisted on riding horseback, even if it was proper for the heir to the throne to come in a carriage. But Thor only rolled his eyes at the golden carriage and let the thralls put it from his sight. He was the future king of Asgard, not some lady in need. He was a man, an Alpha, and he wouldn’t be caught dead in such monstrosity. His friends agreed with him heartily, and so there was nothing left to do for the thralls than to listen to the prince and get the carriage out of his sight.

When Thor mounted the horse, his father came briskly to his side and caught the reins of his horse.

“I know you believe ’tis but a stupid tradition, but, son, a future king needs his queen, and I hope you will find it in your heart to choose the right one not only for yourself but also for this kingdom.”

Thor frowned slightly. “Do you want me to choose only by my head, father? Do you not wish that I fall in love and am happy with my chosen wife?”

Odin chuckled and let the reins fall out of his hands.

“One day you’ll understand, dear son, that not everything is about you. I hope you make a great alliance by choosing one of the princesses,” he said with a serious look on his face and stepped back to let the horses trod out of the gates.

Thor only bowed to him, his father’s words still playing in his brain. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that it would be for the best if he could choose one of the Omegas from neighbouring kingdoms, but he also wasn’t one to choose just like that. He had his share of pretty faces, but if he was supposed to mate for life, the girl would have to be something else. She would have to be almost a goddess for Thor to make such commitment.

With such thought in mind, Thor bid his horse forward, his friends and a couple of helpers following close behind.

Odin and Frigg were watching it from the main gate, both with different expressions. While Thor’s mother was shedding tears of happiness, that her first-born was finally becoming what he was always supposed to, and she was joyous about all the possibilities love had for Thor, his father’s expression was quite different. More brooding, and less cheerful, fearing the stupidities his son might do in the neighbouring kingdoms.

The first kingdom to visit was Bennegard. Its land was vastly different from that in Asgard, because while most of Asgard were hills and sea, Bennegard had no access to the salty water, and had not one hill. Thor and Loki used to make fun of the country in their classes, where they had to learn about all the kingdoms, past and new one. They would always say that Bennegard was the dullest of places, its people looking like mouses, their land without the joys nature can provide. Bennegard was almost entirely of rocks and rocky planes, one of the few things that actually grew there was a thistle, which to Thor and Loki said a lot.

It took Thor and his company two whole days to travel to the land, and by the time they neared the castle, they wanted to turn and come back to Asgard, which played with colours and odours. Bennegard was just as dull as Thor imagined it, but there was still hope in his heart, that he might find what his father wanted him there, and his hunt would be over.

But when they finally arrived at the local court, Thor realised that he would rather marry one of the thistles than to have anything to do with any of the Omega princesses there.

Thor suffered through every conversation, but he knew better than to let people around him know about his state of mind. He was all smiles and politeness, but inside, he was bored to death.

The oldest daughter of king Jostly was almost as big as Thor, and at first, Thor nearly jumped out of his skin in fear of her. He’s never seen a woman as huge as her, and he’s seen a lot of women in his life, he thought.

“My prince, may I introduce you to my daughter and my heir, princess Johanna? She has just turned 27 years of age, and she is more than ready to take an Alpha, and unite our kingdom,” king Jostly said, in what he probably thought was a cheerful tone, but Thor had to fight himself in staying awake whilst he spoke.

Thor smiled politely at the princess and remembering his father’s words, asked her to dance with him. She snorted, and Thor assumed that was her laugh and it made him roll his eyes even harder. Thor scented Johanna discreetly, trying to see if there was at least something he could be attracted to in her. But no. She just smelled like burned lava stones and tobacco, and that was not something Thor looked for in his mate.

They danced and talked, but Thor could not keep his mind in the conversation. It was when she started listing the types of rocks that could be found around the castle, and she was already at the 18th different type, that Thor excused himself with a smile, and went to find the closest barrel with mead.

The rest of the night went very similarly, and by midnight, Thor was comfortably in one of the guest rooms, snoring happily. He told his company all about the dullness of the place, and how he couldn’t wait to be up and gone and truly praise.

In the morning, he gave his apologies to king Jostly, trying to explain to him that he did not find what he was looking for, only for king Jostly to stop him mid-sentence.

“Do not apologise, my prince! Last night, while you apologised to go to your chambers, my daughter caught the scent of a foreign Alpha from your company, and while I hoped for, let’s say, better connection, considering her age and all, I think I must be happy with what we’ve got.”

Thor raised an eyebrow and wanted to ask more questions, but then the door to the ballroom opened and revealed princess Johanna, and to Thor’s utter surprise, Volstagg, who was smiling like a fool.

“Thor, my friend! Look! I found a suitable Omega for myself! What do you reckon?”

Thor couldn’t even form a suitable response, from all the shock coursing through his veins. He just nodded and tried to form a smile on his face, but he wasn’t sure if it actually made way to his face.

“I am happy for you, my friend! Do you wish to stay here, with your chosen Omega, Vorstagg?”

“If I may, that would be more than wonderful, my prince,” Vorstagg said, not even looking at Thor, but having his nose buried in his Omega’s neck.

Thor shuddered at the sight, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to stand that close to that woman. But he was truly happy for Vorstagg. He was also one of the highest-ranked councilmen in Asgard, so Thor knew this only strengthened the relations between the two lands, and he hoped it would be suitable for his father.

They bid their goodbyes, and Thor and the remaining of his company set to travel to the second kingdom on their plan. Dysgard. Thor was actually looking forward to this visit. He’s always admired Dysgard’s jewels, which was the thing exported most from this land. The hills were even mightier than in Asgard, and the plains were slightly more hostile than those in Thor’s own country.

He always heard the people of Dysgard be just like their land, little proud and unwelcoming, keeping to themselves. Thor wanted to see if it was real or if his father exaggerated like he always did.

Upon their arrival, unlike in Bennegard, no great party awaited them. They were shown into a small crown room, with guards and the king himself. King Zeinard was a stout man with a pointy nose, which looked awfully funny on his round face.

“Crown prince Thor, I hear you want to have a look at the Omegas of this court, and intend to marry some?” King’s voice boomed through the room.

“Yes, your Majesty. I’m looking for a wife, and me and my father, King Odin, thought it would be good to start with our strongest allies. Would that be ok with you, my king?” Thor said, trying not to sound too bitter, and judging by king Zeinard’s face, Thor succeeded, for the king nodded at somebody behind Thor, and that person opened a door behind Thor.

From this door, 5 young Omegas emerged, their heads hung low, looking at the ground.

“Here are two of my daughters, and three daughters of my highest councilmen. Please, take your time in scenting them, and if you like one, you can have her. If not, I would be glad if you could continue on your journey,” Zeinard said in all seriousness, and Thor was in fact glad.

If he didn’t find what he was looking for here, he could get moving without the annoying pleasantries.

So he just curtly nodded at the king and walked towards the women.

He smelled each of them carefully, taking his time to see if he could like any of the scents, but he found himself more than indifferent to all of them.

Thor looked over to the king and smiled sadly.

“I am afraid, my king, that I did not find what I came for here.”

“That is quite alright, my prince. I wish you luck on your journey,” the king said and turned his back on Thor, and slowly rolled out of the hall.

Thor just looked at his friends and rolled his eyes, which made laugh silently, before they all decided to follow the king’s advice and continue on their journey.

The last kingdom they were meant to visit was only a few hours away, and Thor thought it would be great if the could reach it before the night set on the land. He sent a pigeon to Midgard, letting their king know that they were coming a day early, hoping the king would not think they were disrespectful. The last thing Thor needed was for one of the kings sending a message to his father that he didn’t behave properly.

The journey was filled with friendly banter, mostly targeted on the missing Vorstagg and his new bride, but all was in good humour. They were all happy for their friend if only little surprise on his choice.

Before they knew it, they were standing in front of Midgard’s castle’s gates. Thor was internally most excited about Midgard. He has been there many times before, so he knew that the country was pregnant with beauty, both in its population and its nature. He even knew the king, Anthony, with whom Thor fought many of his battles in his youth. Thor knew king Anthony had only one daughter, but rarely ever showed her. All Thor knew was that she was a lot younger than him.

“Thor! Dead friend! I and the queen, we are ecstatic that you could come so soon! Gives us time to talk properly!” Thor heard from somewhere above him, and he looked up, seeing Anthony standing on a balcony right above his head, waving at him.

“Tony! So am I, trust me! May I come up, so that I can refresh slightly before I meet you? I stink like a horse,” Thor hollered, and Tony just smiled and nodded at him.

When all was done, Thor could hear music coming from the big hall, and he smiled, excited to actually enjoy himself, if he didn’t choose one of Tony’s daughters as his Omega, that was.

The hall was littered with people, the whole room shining with light up candles, and expensive decorations were hung around the ceiling to create the allusion of an open roof. Thor always admired Tony’s festivities, and he wasn’t the only one. It was known in all lands that king Anthony’s parties were to look forward to.

“Feeling like yourself again, old friend?” Tony asked with a smile, and Thor instinctively hugged him, just like he did with Loki.

“Yes! Especially because I’m here, in Midgard. You wouldn’t believe how I longed to be here the whole journey, both Bennegard and Dysgard were awfully boring!”

Tony barked out a laugh and patted Thor’s shoulder.

“Oh, I know! Imagine what you will have to undergo in every ally meeting we have!” Tony laughed again, seeing Thor’s slightly horrified face.

“Let’s get the issue off the table quickly, so we can have more fun! Here is my daughter, Morgan. Morgan, my dearest, this is prince Thor,” Tony said and Morgan, who now stood in front of Thor, curtsied slightly. Thor bowed politely and took her hand in his kissing it.

Thor could see she was still just a child, only just presenting and still unsure of what her presentation meant in the world.

She smelled nice, Thor had to admit that, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t do without.

Tony was watching the whole encounter, keeping an eye on Thor’s reaction and praying to, however, was listening that he wouldn’t find his daughter too appealing. Not that Tony didn’t like Thor, but Morgan was still his only child, and he was not ready to let her go just yet. He had to smile because Thor’s pupils didn’t dilate, nor did he look like a lighting stroke him when he smelled her, so Tony took it as a good sign.

“I’m afraid, you are not my mate, princess Morgan, although your beauty is remarkable,” Thor smiled at the young princess who curtsied again and almost ran away from there, back to her mother’s open arms.

“She’s still a pup, you know? I have to tell you, I’m glad you’re not mates. I would hate to fight you were you to hurt my daughter, which is a fate awaiting her mate patiently.”

Thor laughed at his friend, and let the whole mate thing stride out of his mind. He didn’t find anyone, and he knew he had reasoning for his father. So he just let go, and had fun, drank mead, and ate what was served.

It was when he wanted to get another bread that he caught a scent of something sweet. He smelled the bread, and he could tell that the scent was lingering on it. He supposed that the lovely smelling Omega touched the bread before him, and that was why he could still smell it, as faint as it was.

Thor got up from the table and roamed the room, trying to catch the scent that was making him drunk again but without luck. He hung his head between his shoulders, and for the first time was feeling some sort of emotion about not finding his mate.

He went to the table with bread again, still thinking deeply about how that smell made him feel when he smelled it again.

The scent was a combination of a spring breeze, a meadow, and what he thought were raspberries, so sweet and intoxicating, Thor wanted to do nothing more than to smell that for the rest of his life.

He swiftly raised his head, only to be met with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. He couldn’t even pinpoint their colour, they were playful and looked just like she smelt. Beautiful.

This was it, Thor thought. This was his mate, whoever this beautiful stranger was. But before he could say a word to her, she scurried away, down the hall only used by the help in the castle. And Thor was dead-set on following her.

/Next Chapter >

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teatitty · 4 years

Text

Jailhouse Rock

A/N: Hey remember when I said I wanted to write a traditional fantasy AU with Patrochilles and DiarCu? This is based in that. I hate copy-pasting things to tumblr bc it never keeps my italics and I’m too lazy to edit this so here it is on AO3 as well

Days of peace were rare for Patroclus; even rarer still were the days without Achilles or Cu Chulainn around to stir up mischief. On his own, Patroclus liked to think he was a perfect example of good behaviour and that his own troublemaking was nothing more than a direct result of knowing two of the biggest arseholes this side of the continent, but whenever he voiced such a thing out loud, the response from his companions was always an intense roll of the eyes and a bark of laughter, so maybe he was just lying to himself.

Given his current predicament, that certainly seemed to be the case. In retrospect, he should’ve figured he’d end up getting arrested one of these days, but when you spend most of your time in the company of two people who somehow - consistently - manage to get themselves out of trouble, well, you sort of forget that consequences for your actions are a thing you need to worry about.

In his own defense, he hadn’t planned on getting arrested. It isn’t much of a defense, because he cannot recall a single person who has ever wanted to get thrown into a jail cell with shackles on their wrists (it didn’t matter that his own had been taken off earlier, it mattered that they’d bothered to put any on him in the first place), but he also hasn’t met every single person on the planet, so he supposes the defense counts for something.

He wonders who Achilles will be angrier at when he finds out about this; Patroclus, for punching the stupid fucking Guard in the face and breaking his pompous nose, or the Guard himself, for calling re-inforcements and manhandling Patroclus into this dingy, damp little cell. It’s not a matter of if Achilles will find out, so much as when he finds out, and Patroclus can only hope it’s soon, because he’s only been in here for a few hours and he’s already bored out of his god-damned mind.

The Guards posted outside of his cell won’t even talk to him. It’s extremely rude, in his opinion, not to entertain a guest when they’re groaning pitifully on the floor, even if said groaning was mostly due to the head pain. He really needs to learn the name of the Guard who clonked him. Bastard had a real mean arm and Patroclus itches to get some sort of revenge for the hit.

Alas, it doesn’t seem as though he’ll be getting that information anytime soon. He’ll just have to track the guy down once he gets sprung from this place and then clonk them from behind and see how they like it.

“You know,” he says conversationally, “if you ask me, I did you all a favour. I mean, he just has one of those voices, you know? The really annoying ones? The ones that just invite you to hit someone?” Nothing. Typical. Patroclus sighs up at the ceiling with exaggerated effort. “I love our little talks. Can’t get enough of them, truly.”

Maybe, if he talks long enough, one of them will actually tell him to shut up instead of just trying to glare holes into him through their helmets. Patroclus snorts at the thought. If that worked, then Achilles would’ve been dead a hundred times over by now. Or just covered in a lot more scars than he already has. Which is none. Obviously. Ugh, he really needs to get better company.

As if the Gods themselves heard his plea and were, for once in their lives, actually offering to help him, a commotion from the halls causes him to sit up with immense interest, and the Guards by his cell close their eyes and actually groan.

Whoever is being led - in chains? Sounds like it - down the hall, everyone clearly knows them, because even the other prisoners, who’ve been silent until now, start murmuring curses to themselves.

Finally, Patroclus thinks, some variety.

“ - I just think that in the grand scheme of things - and purely for everyone else’s interest, of course - that stealing a few rings from the locals isn’t that big of a deal when I’m just going to be selling them later. I’m helping the economy! Helping you pass money from one hand to another and get it circulating. How’s your wife, by the way, is she still getting the bad cramps? Of course she is. I can see it in your face. You really should take my advice and -”

“Diarmuid.” A Guard has never sounded so long-suffering before.

“Hm?”

“Shut up and get in the damn cell.”

Surprisingly enough, with a huge stroke of good fortune, the cell that this blessing in disguise - Diarmuid, his name is Diarmuid, Patroclus reminds himself. He’s never been very good at names - is dancing his way into, happens to be Patroclus’ very own, and he finds himself looking at a man who is decidedly, one hundred percent, not human at all.

Patroclus grins, absolutely delighted by this turn of events. Diarmuid, noticing that he is not alone in this cell, cocks his head to the side and just sort of. Stands there. Presumably blinking at him, but it’s hard to tell behind the tinted glasses perched on his nose. “Oh my gods,” Patroclus says before he can stop himself, “are you an elf?”

“No,” replies Diarmuid slowly. “But I can see why you’d think that.”

“He’s a menace,” one of the Guards mutters and Patroclus’ grin only widens.

“I knew you could talk,” he tells them and then to Diarmuid he says, “you have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get them to say something.”

“Oh,” Diarmuid says, “I’m not hallucinating then.”

“Not used to having company?”

“Not usually.”

He looks - well, if Patroclus had to hazard a guess, he’d say that Diarmuid looks completely out of his depth. “Don’t worry,” Patroclus tells him. “I don’t bite.” Which isn’t entirely a lie. He doesn’t bite usually but all bets are off when tavern brawls happen.

Diarmuid’s nose wrinkles. “Is that a hickey?”

It is, actually, though it’s a wonder he can see it at all amidst the other bruising. “I don’t bite,” Patroclus repeats, “but my boyfriend’s a bit of a dick.”

Something in Diarmuid’s posture relaxes at that admission, which is very interesting, and Patroclus pats the spot beside himself invitingly. He’s actually surprised when Diarmuid sits next to him. He’s less surprised that there’s an obvious gap being kept between them and that, unlike himself, Diarmuid’s posture remains straight and alert.

“Soooo…” Patroclus starts, “what are you in for?”

“That’s the best you could do, huh?”

Oh, a snarky one is he? Good thing Patroclus is used to that, or he might actually find this guy irritating. “What do you want me to start with, then? The fact that you’re apparently a regular visitor here? That you probably know everyone’s first names and family histories?”

“I wish he didn’t,” mutters the other Guard forlornly.

“Shut up,” hisses the first one, “don’t encourage them.”

“Too late for that,” they say in unison. The Guards curse.

There’s a long beat of silence as Patroclus waits to see if Diarmuid will reply to his earlier question. His patience pays off when, finally, Diarmuid sighs and says, “I got caught selling stolen goods for twice the profit.”

Patroclus whistles. “Impressive.” He means it. Sure, he got caught doing it, but the fact he had the balls to try at all - and, by the sounds of it, actually managed to make some of said profit - is worth applauding.

“And you?”

Patroclus shrugs. “Broke someone’s nose.”

“Holy shit,” Diarmuid breathes, “you’re the guy who finally shut Claudius’ trap up?”

“His name is Claudius?” A nod. “No wonder he’s such a dick, then. Hey! Tell your boss that I don’t regret what I did, alright? With a name like that, he had it coming to him!”

“You’re going to get a longer sentence if you do that.” Diarmuid sounds amused as anything. Patroclus grins back at him. He wonders how long Diarmuid’s sentence is and how many times he’s gotten his way out of it.

“Nah,” he says. “I’ll be out by tomorrow.”

“Because of your boyfriend?”

“Something like that.”

“Lucky,” Diarmuid whines. “I have to rely on my natural charm, and here you are getting Out Of Jail cards for free.”

They’re only ‘free’ if you don’t count the cost on Patroclus’ brain cell capacity, because for all that he loves Achilles with his entire soul, his boyfriend is, in fact, an idiot, and this has only seemed to get worse since they met Cu Chulainn a few years back. How does that saying go again? ‘Birds of a feather flock together?’

What does it say about him that he’s part of this flock? Nothing good, probably, so best not to think too much about it.

“Are you a vampire?”

“Okay, now you’re just naming every creature with pointy ears.”

Patroclus slumps down in his seat. “I don’t have much else to go on.” And it doesn’t look like Diarmuid is going to willingly give him any hints. “A dragonborn, maybe?”

Alright, maybe that one's a little bit of a deep cut, given how rare they are these days, but, hey, if he’s going for every race with pointed ears then…

“Also,” he continues, “you’re not a ‘creature’ you’re just a different race to a human.”

“Flattering,” Diarmuid says dryly. Patroclus doesn’t really get how any of that is ‘flattering’ in any way, shape or form but then what does he know? He’s human, after all, so maybe he really has just said something that - whatever. Doesn’t matter. He’s making friends! Cu will be so proud of him.

Does he have a concussion? Probably. None of his thoughts are making any sense today.

“I’m not a dragonborn.”

Okay, strike two off the list.

“Or a vampire.”

Strike three.

This would be so much easier if he wasn’t just relying on ‘ears pointy’ because that...really doesn’t narrow it down a whole lot. Are there really that many races with pointed ears? How has he never noticed this before? “You sure you’re not an elf? Or, like, elf adjacent?”

“If you were anyone else,” says Diarmuid, “I would’ve hit you for that. Luckily for you, I’m pretty sure you’re just a mouthy moron like I am, so congrats on saving your own skin, I guess.”

“It’s a gift,” he grins.

Diarmuid snorts. Progress is being made. Fuck yeah. “You’re not used to being in a cell, are you?”

Patroclus shrugs. “Not particularly.”

“First time?”

Oh now that’s just too easy a line to pass up. “Being in the company of a gorgeous man like yourself?” His lashes flutter and Diarmuid actually looks a little bit bewildered. “Hardly.”

“You...have a boyfriend.”

Astute of him.

“I do,” he agrees. “We have a comfortable and confident relationship.” By which he means that they’re allowed to flirt with whoever they want, whenever they want, it’s just dating and sex that are off limits until further discussion. Diarmuid - doesn’t really seem to get what he means. Which. Okay then. “Flirting is fine,” he clarifies with an easy tone.

“Oh.”

He still sounds a bit miffed by the whole thing so, in an effort to bring them back to their earlier comfort levels, Patroclus says, “lets play a game.”

Diarmuid stares at him. “A game,” he repeats.

“Just something to pass the time.”

“Am I going crazy or are you always like this?”

“It’s just me.” He feels no embarrassment in admitting it either. His mouth often moves faster than his brain can catch up, or his brain will move faster than his mouth, and rarely do they ever operate at the same capacity as each other. He forgets that not everyone can keep up with his rapid changes in conversation. Achilles’ mother is the only one who can understand him all of the time, but she’s back home in her river, so he has to - make an effort to slow down a little bit here.

How annoying.

“Ever heard of 21 Questions?”

The silence continues for long enough this time that Patroclus is almost completely certain he’s just gotten rejected. Diarmuid sighs. “Sure. I reserve the right to refuse answering anything personal, though.”

For all his earlier chatter, he’s surprisingly guarded and private. This, along with his keeping his own race a secret, intrigues Patroclus a lot more than it should. There’s a dull and distant warning bell ringing in his head; caution, it screeches, CAUTION.

“I reserve the same thing, then.”

Diarmuid blows some hair out of his face and, presumably, rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “I suppose,” he sighs dramatically. His lip twitches into a smile. Generously, Patroclus lets him go first. “What’s your name?”

He blinks, startled, and then laughs. “Oh I’m such an idiot,” he says and then holds out his hand. Diarmuid is wearing leather gloves under his shackles. Interesting. “It’s Patroclus. Pleasure to meet you.”

His grip is a little firmer than Patroclus expected but nowhere near the strength of Cu Chulainn’s. Which is a bit of an unfair comparison considering Cu’s specific bloodline but. Well. He doesn’t have a whole lot of non-human references to go on. Diarmuid holds himself as though he’s waiting to get shanked in the gut and Patroclus, ever so politely, asks, “what’s your favourite drink?”

Diarmuid blinks. “What?”

“Ah-ah-ah,” he chides, wagging his finger. “Not your turn to ask a question.”

“...tequila,” Diarmuid says at last.

“Oh that’s strong! I thought you might be an ale drinker, what with all the leathers and the -” he gestures to the window of the cell, hoping to encompass the city as a whole.

“Ah,” says Diarmuid. “Ale’s too bitter for me.”

“And tequila isn’t?”

His lip quirks. “Not your turn.”

“Right you are! Continue, then.”

“Who's your boyfriend?”

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Achilles.”

Diarmuid promptly chokes, as do the Guards outside. “You’re kidding. You don’t mean - you can’t mean -”

Patroclus inclines his head, delighted by the reaction. Achilles is famous here! Who knew!

“Holy shit.” Diarmuid’s voice raises a few octaves. “He’s going to kill me.”

“I doubt it,” says Patroclus dryly. “He’s more likely to whine about me getting better prison company than he did.”

“I’m not talking about Achilles,” hisses Diarmuid. “I’m talking about Cu Chulainn!”

Wait.

Wait a second.

Patroclus takes a step back to examine the man before him. Dark, curly hair? Check. A penchant for getting arrested? From what he can gather, check. Pointy ears? Absolutely. And -

He leans closer to try and get a whiff of whatever scent Diarmuid carries.

-- the distinct smell of a winter breeze.

A lot of different things fall into place at once.

“You’re the friend that Cu’s been looking for. The one that lost his favourite jacket.”

“I’m dead,” says Diarmuid. “I’ve been trying to get it back for him and now I’m going to die before I get the chance.”

“Is that why you were selling stolen goods?”

Reluctantly, Diarmuid nods. “I know where it is,” he admits mulishly. “I just don’t have the money to buy it back.”

Patroclus thinks this over. He doesn’t have any money either. Fuck it, he thinks, we’re already criminals anyway.

“Okay,” he says. “If you can get us out of here, I’ll help you get it back.”

“Don’t even try it,” warns Guard number one.

Diarmuid gives Patroclus a pathetically hopeful look. “You will?”

“Yes. On the condition,” he continues, “that you return it to him in person.”

“You know where he is.”

“I know where he is.”

Diarmuid considers this for all of two seconds. “Deal.”

And then he slips out of his shackles and shatters the fucking window with them.

#fate series #my writing #2.6K words of crack tbh #i dont know what this is please just take it

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daybreakrising · 4 years

Text

@crackuzu asked: five times kissed // we haven't actually done anything yet but our zombois pls and thank from this meme

Under a cut bc these will all get long.

You get six bc I couldn’t decide which pov to write them from so each zomboi gets three. you almost got ten tbh but I restrained myself

ONE

It was an itch under his skin, a frustrating niggle that wouldn't go away. It had been over a week since their last opportunity to let off some steam and shed a little blood. A week! A week of endless, pointless travel, for a cause he didn't even care about.

Frustrating.

He was craving a good fight, something to get his blood pumping, anything to settle that craving he couldn't shake. Violence was his lifeblood. He was starving without it. All he asked for was a little bit of chaos, something to take the edge off, but so far, he was being denied.

Hidan eyed the broad shoulders of the man stalking ahead of him, face currently buried in a map. He still didn't really know what to make of his partner. He was, by all appearances, possibly the most antisocial man he'd ever known. His only redeeming factor, in his opinion, was his own taste for violence.

A sly smile spread across Hidan's face.

If he couldn't seek out violence elsewhere, he'd just have to seek it here. Kakuzu had a short and violent temper. He'd already poked and prodded at it a few times, but it never seemed to go further than a brief altercation – and that wasn't going to be enough. He needed to do something to really piss him off.

He moved fast, knowing he had a limited window before he was sussed out. He appeared directly in front of the other man, fisted a hand in the collar of his cloak, and dragged him in. His lips met the fabric of Kakuzu's mask for a fleeting second before he was flung backwards, his back hitting a nearby tree hard enough to shake loose a whole heap of leaves and dead branches.

Hidan grinned, rubbing a hand to the ache in his jaw where a fist had struck it. It hurt like a bitch, but it was worth the fury in the other man's eyes. Maybe now the bastard would fight him.

TWO

When he wasn't whining or prattling on about his god, Hidan wasn't so bad, really.

Either that or he was finally going mad after his many long years of life. That was also a possibility. Sure, he got under his skin from time to time and he had definitely considered all the ways he would like to kill him – he was starting to get creative with ideas, too – but… he had his pros to combat some of the cons. Some.

He didn't probe him with questions he didn't want to answer, but he listened when he did reveal even the faintest personal information. He filled silences without pressuring him for a response – mostly – and did, upon occasion, have interesting things to say. He had a sense of humour, which, albeit a little more morbid, aligned with his own.

And, possibly the most important of them all, they were a team.

That had been forced on them, of course, but that was irrelevant. Pushing two people together didn't automatically mean they would work, and they worked. For all their bickering and bitching, they were a flawless team. It had been a long time since Kakuzu could rely on someone quite like he relied on Hidan. That meant something to him.

Damnit. He might as well admit it. He didn't hate Hidan.

He stopped dead, cutting off Hidan's idle rambling about who-knows-what as the other man promptly walked straight into his back. In the midst of the bitching that immediately ensued, Kakuzu turned, grasped Hidan by the chin, and silenced him with a kiss. It was brief, distinctly not traditionally romantic, and possibly quite awkward.

"Shut up, Hidan."

THREE

The blood was like iron in his mouth, in his nose, the stench of it drenching the air around him in a way that couldn't be matched away from the slaughter of a battlefield. His fingers trembled as his skin returned to its regular colour, the curse markings fading as the last of the life drained from his unsuspecting victim.

Oh, and it felt good.

Violet eyes searched the rubble and ruin around him, bodies littered in all directions, the aftermath of their rampage a beautiful sight to behold. At last, he found him, rising over the slumped form of the target they had come for. No doubt, Hidan mused, checking he was in a suitable condition for the exchange. Him and his bloody money.

He watched Kakuzu nod to himself, swiping a hand through the loose strands of hair that had fallen free from his head covering during the battle. The mask hung open, revealing the dark line of stitching that split his face in two. Just looking at it, Hidan could feel the raised threads beneath his fingertips, the ridged edges where they met skin.

It was a curious thing, the way his fingers itched to touch every time he saw them.

Riding on the high of battle, he crossed the distance between them, teeth flashing in a grin as he stepped over the corpse and into Kakuzu's eyeline. Blood streaked the other man's face, a single spray of crimson. His heavy breaths matched Hidan's, the fire in those curious eyes mirrored in his own. This, Hidan knew, was as much a high for Kakuzu as it was for him.

Their gazes met – one beat, two.

Their lips met next, and Kakuzu tasted blood.

FOUR

Hidan was being particularly annoying today.

If he'd stopped talking at all since that morning, it had only been to eat, and even then, that didn't stop him for long. He really had no manners when he chose. To make matters worse, he had even adopted that really irritating whine that he knew drove him mad. Which, of course, is why he did it. Kakuzu wasn't stupid. He knew Hidan was trying to get under his skin.

Annoyingly, it was working.

Not for the first time, he cursed his own foolish self for being weak enough to feel for the idiot. It would be far less complicated if he could still honestly say he despised the little shit and didn't care what happened to him. Although if he kept this up, he might change his mind after all.

It took about another hour before he reached his breaking point.

A hand closed around Hidan's throat, the not-quite-flat rock of the valley wall providing a perfect surface upon which to slam him. He hoped there were some particularly pointy edges at his back. His eyes narrowed as Hidan flashed a wicked grin, a silver brow quirking suggestively only moments before a hand pulled him flush to the leaner figure, and a quick finger hooked the mask down from his face.

Sneaky bastard.

Hidan had barely enough time to whisper out a "Gotcha" before lips closed over his own in a bruising kiss.

FIVE

It was cold, dank and dark.

He had long ago stopped smelling the moist earth, the rot, stopped feeling the tickle of insects crawling over his skin. He couldn't even feel the pain any longer, which was a blessing in itself. In its place was… nothing. Just endless nothing. Endless darkness. Endless silence.

That, in itself, was agony, like a searing light behind closed lids, burning, burning, b-

Light.

An eye cracked open, blinded at once by the shafts of daylight streaming down from above. It hurt after so long in the dark, but for once his pain was wonderful. Pain meant he was alive, still alive, still able to feel. But how-

As his eye adjusted to the light, shapes and colours became distinct from one another. He saw chunks of earth rising, revealing more and more light. It took longer to access the finer details, to see the threads curled around each piece of his earthen prison. Kakuzu.

If his mouth weren't full of earth, he would have laughed. Of course. Of course he'd find him. Was it possible to feel your heart constrict – race – when it wasn't attached to your brain? He closed his eye, basked in the heat of the sun he could feel once again, and waited to be saved.

He felt the brush of threads against his cheek, felt a breeze ripple through his tangled hair. He felt the grass against his skin, felt the familiar sting of the stitches working their way through his flesh. Though his mouth was clear, there were no complaints this time. He would never complain about pain again. Well… maybe.

Fingertips brushed against his cheek, framed his face. Hair tickled against his forehead and, even before he opened his eyes, he could see the face above his own. That darker skin, so contrasting against his, those curiously coloured eyes he had always found fascinating, the raised black threads across the cheeks… Kakuzu. Lips pressed to his own and Hidan felt life surge through him, warming his cold, cold body. He was saved. Kakuzu had come back for him.

Something shifted by his ear, and he stirred with a jolt.

A single eye opened.

It was cold, dank and dark.

And he was alone.

Alone.

SIX

"Oi, Kakuzu…"

A page turned.

"What are you reading?"

He didn't lift his gaze from the page, didn't even falter in his reading. In his head, he counted down from five, and made it to three before a weight leaned on his shoulder and a face appeared in his periphery.

"A book." He muttered, doing his best to ignore what was almost certainly a pout on the idiot's face. "You should try it sometime. You might learn something."

Kakuzu didn't have much experience with cats, but he knew enough to correctly liken Hidan to one – particularly when the zealot deliberately nudged beneath his arm and slid defiantly into his lap, disrupting his vision of the book and, therefore, forcing him to finally pay attention to his partner.

"You're annoying, you're aware?" Hidan merely gave him a shit-eating grin, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. With a roll of the eyes that was almost fond, Kakuzu marked his page and set the book aside. "If I pay attention to you for the next five minutes, can I get back to my book in peace?"

"I don't know." Hidan shrugged. "You'll have to find out, hm?" There was a barely audible murmur of 'idiot' in a tone that was definitely affectionate. Because he knew the little shit would gloat if given the chance, Kakuzu opted to keep him silent in the only way that worked.

It was just a discarded page, torn at the edges and trapped in a bush, angrily fluttering in the wind as it clung on for its life. He didn't quite know what had made him think of that moment in particular. Perhaps it was the smear of dried blood, like rust upon the parchment, that had made him think of Hidan. Perhaps it was his freshly awakened mind searching for some familiarity to hold onto, unearthing a memory at random.

Or, perhaps, it was simply because Hidan was the first thing on his mind.

He wasn't with them. He'd noticed because he had looked, because he had searched for the partner who had always been at his side from the day they met. It had been his first thought, even before he acknowledged that he had, apparently, been resurrected from the dead. Where is Hidan?

The wind finally won the battle, the page tearing in two, the separate pieces whisked away in different directions. Kakuzu had never put much stock in symbolism, but even he couldn't deny there might have been something in that.

He smiled. He might have been killed by those brats, but Hidan… Hidan was alive.

And now, so was he.

#crackuzu #;even hell runs on money (asks; kakuzu)#;I'll never die (asks; hidan)#;KakuHida tag tbt #( I could write these boys for days )

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laws-hat-headcanons · 5 years

Note

Hi Hat! Sfw+Nsfw Headcanons for Kakashi, Iruka and Rock Lee would react to meeting such a pure, kind-hearted, gentle, extremely caring. Emotional yet strong, very wise, selfless and courageous person doesn’t judge others for anything. Has been through a lot of pain. Plus didn’t turn evil who has a heart of gold? willingly to trust them even though they’ve just met. What would they think, feel, and act towards them? Would they do? 🤔 -Denizu

Hi Denizu!!! Thank you for the ask my dear! ❤❤ I really struggled to get my brain around Rock Lee and so I decided to miss him out, I hope you can forgive me 😭! Thabk you again!!

Kakashi and Iruka relationship headcanons with an actual cinnamon roll

Kakashi

Pre-relationship

. Kakashi is not a trusting individual.

. And while he can make it seem like he trusts a person - his manner relaxed, his visible eye always curving in to a smile in their presence - make no mistake he doesn't.

. So when he meets you, such a nice, kind and giving person he is automatically suspicious.

. Because there are very few people in the world who are genuinely good. He has learnt this from experience.

. It takes him a while to accept that maybe, just maybe you're as real as you seem.

. He will always be waiting for the other shoe to drop though. That's not a reflection of his opinion of you, it's just how he has been raised.

. Kakashi let's you in very slowly.

. He doesnt test you, hes not that kind of person. He let's you prove yourself through your actions.

. Kakashi doesnt really pry about your past, but he is very good at gathering information. When he learns about what you've been through and sees how you have stayed such a good person it makes him ache a little bit.

. He wants to ask how you manage it. But he doesnt.

. Again, Kakashi is slow to trust, but once you have his trust you have an ally for life.

Relationship + mild NSFW

. Kakashi doesn't enter relationships easily. And it is very rare that he will have a one night stand.

. He has a very long "get to know you" period. Kakashi knows hes at his most vulnerable when having sex so he wont allow hinself to be with someone he doesnt trust.

. Kakashi is not overly romantic

. He doesnt have much frame of reference but once the two of you are in a relationship he makes an effort.

. He will never be a bouquet of Roses kind of guy but he'll cook you dinner after a long day and try to make you smile.

. Kakashi hasn't had many sexual partners but he learnt a lot from the ones he had.

. He knows his way around a body, knows all the pleasure points and the soft areas that get the best responses.

. Kakashi is particularly good with anything that involves his mouth, he sometimes forget he has pointy teeth.

. Because you are so wholly good, he always feels a little unworthy of you, so he tries his best to make sure you know how much you mean to him. Inside of the bedroom and out.

Iruka

Pre-Relationship

. Like Kakashi, Iruka is slow to trust but not for the same reasons. He hasn't had the same traumas as the silver haired man.

. But he is still a shinobi, so there is always a level of suspicion.

. Iruka is very good at listening so he learns a lot about you very quickly.

. He learns about your past and the things you've overcome, how you've persevered and kept your head up.

. And he falls a little bit in love with you after that.

. Iruka himself is a kind person and so he enjoys being able to be himself around you.

. Hes not afraid to show his emotions and Iruka is so pleased that you can do the same around him

Relationship + mild NSFW

. Iruka has had like... 2 sexual partners and he is very insecure about it.

. While he knows you wont judge him in the bedroom hes still hesitant to be with you for the first time.

. Iruka is big in to cuddling. Hes happy being the big spoon or the little spoon depending on who wants what.

. He likes talking after sex, just lying with each other and whispering in the dark.

. Iruka is very fond of coming home from the academy to a hot bubble bath, which he is more than happy to share.

. Because you are so giving and kind, Iruka likes to try and give back to you as much as he can.

. He will always sacrifice his own pleasure for yours, but make no mistake, he doesnt consider it a sacrifice.

#naruto #naruto headcanons #iruka #kakashi #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #naruto hcs

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tigerlilynoh · 5 years

Text

Almost Got ‘em

Written for the 2019 @spnsummergen. Rating: G Featuring: Original characters, and a couple familiar faces Word Count: 3,143 Warnings: foul language Author's Notes: The prompt was “Early season - demons in hell plotting to take the Winchesters down.” I was immediately inspired by the Batman: The Animated Series episode “Almost Got ‘im.” Summary: Deep in the depths of Hell, a group of demons discuss the two latest pains in their collective ass: Sam and Dean Winchester. Rumor is that the brothers had found the Colt and even killed a demon. Of course, rumors are just big talk— yet a pair of demons patiently listen; their plan is already in action.

Two figures made their way through the halls of the third lowest dungeon in Hell. As they walked the jagged stone walls seemed to close in around them, but their petite, female forms prevented the blade-like rock from tearing at their temporary flesh. Even if they were injured it would be of no importance; they were demons and there was a meeting that they very much wanted to attend.

Both were wearing lean, blonde women who might’ve been mistaken for sisters, but that was the limit of their outward similarity. The slightly older of them wore a gauzy, white dress that, when combined with her delicate steps, gave her the air of a drifting spirit. Her partner was another story. The younger demon’s black combat boots thudded with every step, announcing her presence. Her attire was entirely leather—the cow sort, not human—dyed dark enough to hide spilled blood.

Neither of them said a word as they approached the auxiliary dungeon rumored to be containing an unusual sort of rendezvous. The pair didn’t have anything more to discuss for the moment. They both knew their immediate goals, responsibilities, and when push came to shove, which of them was in charge. They damn well better have known. Between the two of them, they’d spent over a decade putting their respective pieces in order and double-checking their work.

When they reached the unmarked door that they’d heard whispers about, the demon in the white dress pushed it open without hesitation. She stepped through the door with an unassuming demeanor. Her colleague followed her, studying the contents of the chamber with a wary eye.

Inside there were eight lesser demons standing or sitting around a storage room. Three racks had been laid out flat, then pushed together to create an improvised conference table. Five of the occupants were perched on crates of acid, steel nails, and other implements of pain. The remaining three leaned against the far wall, cautiously keeping some distance.

A brutish-looking man with pasty skin, a pronounced brow, and stringy black hair glared at the newcomers from the opposite side of the table. He stared with the intensity of someone who had taken charge—he certainly didn’t hold any noteworthy rank as evidenced by his badly calloused hands that hinted at many decades or centuries of wielding a whip, the shoddy ones meant for working souls.

In a low growl he asked the two women, “What do you want?”

“We heard that this is the place to be if you truly hate the Winchesters,” answered the elder one.

He stared at them for a moment before replying, “Get inside and shut the fucking door.”

The pair entered, closing the door behind them. From the way that everyone turned their attention to a stout demon sitting on a box labeled ‘spiders’ they assumed that it was his turn to speak. The two women settled themselves on a non-technically-iron maiden that was lying along one of the walls as if it were a bench.

The stout demon resumed addressing his audience. “So then I tore the cow apart—six chunks, big ones but still enough to spread around, and some smaller hunks. You don’t want to waste it by piling the whole cow in one corner of the room. You might as well not bother cutting the damn thing up—Anyway, I hung pieces of it throughout the house.” The sound of scuttling inside the box he was sitting on filled the room as he fumed for a moment in anger. “It’s a classic omen! It’s a horror! And the older of the brothers makes a joke about hamburgers!”

“So disrespectful,” muttered a female demon with hollow eyes and frayed white hair. Several demons nodded in agreement with her comment.

“That kind of work takes time,” complained the portly demon. “I’m not a high-caste demon. I can’t just wave my hand and make things move. Do you have any idea how long it takes to cut up a cow? And the first cleaver broke and I had to find a store—”

“Was it a vegetable cleaver?” asked the lean demon with a mangled left arm and long, frizzy brown hair sitting next to him. When he looked up at her face in confusion, she rested her hand on his thigh, then said in a soft voice, “Milmont, sweetie, two kinds of cleavers. Vegetable ones aren’t made for bone.”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered a red-haired demon. He was dressed like Billy Idol but his rosy cheeks undercut the attempt at an edgy look. “Did you fight them or not?”

“I fought them!” Milmont replied indignantly. “I had a knife—”

“Paring or bread?”

“—and I swung at the older one’s neck.”

One of the demons standing in the shadows noted aloud, “Swung means a miss. You got your ass kicked.”

The stoat demon flustered a bit before reluctantly explaining, “He shot me in the chest with rock salt and hit me in the face with his gun—”

“You fell on your ass,” guessed the red-headed demon.

“The younger brother can perform an exorcism really fast,” Milmont said while shifting, jostling the box of spiders.

“You shouldn’t have gone after them,” said the brutish leader of the group. “You’re too weak.”

The stout demon glared as he hissed, “I have every right to go after the prey I choose. I’m allowed to prove myself!” He waved his hand at the rest of the room as he asked, “How many of you have been exorcised by them? If you’re here bitching about the Winchesters on your weekly one-hour break, yeah, I’m guessing they made you look like an idiot too.”

Several of the demons nodded in acknowledgement of the point or murmured agreement. The leader let out a small grumble as he reached into an open crate next to him. He pulled out an unlabeled bottle containing reddish-tawny liquid, then yanked the black cork from it with his teeth. After taking a swig, he handed it to Milmont.

“Corceo.” The stout demon toasted him before having a sip.

“You’re lucky that you were only exorcised,” the hollow-eyed woman told him while reaching out, wordlessly asking for a drink. Milmont passed it to her and she took a sip before continuing. “Rumor has it they possess the Colt.”

“Dajhila, they don’t have the Colt,” replied the demon with the bad arm. “I brawled with them ten days ago and they didn’t shoot me.”

“Maybe you aren’t worth the bullets?” jabbed the rosy-cheeked punk.

With her good hand, she picked a knife up off the ground and stabbed it into the wooden table in front of her, inviting him to fight.

Corceo, the leader, hit the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “Tisha, don’t carve Frey a new asshole. He has plenty already,” he joked, earning a chuckle from one of the demons watching from the wall. “The fact is that they had the gun. They killed Tom.”

“Tom was an idiot,” huffed Frey. “The only reason he wasn’t wading through viscera like the rest of us was because he was Azazel’s son.”

“Apparently he was attacking Sam, and Dean shot him,” Dajhila explained. “There were witnesses.”

Frey shrugged indifferently at Tom’s death. “Silver-spooned nepotist should’ve been the one to get his ass beat before he got shot.”

“I’m fine with the younger Winchester getting that bludgeoning,” interjected Tisha. She snarled, “You know that little shit is a psychic? I was so close to killing them. It took me three weeks to lure them to this abandoned insane asylum. I’d murdered twenty people in there—six hunters came before the brothers finally took the bait. That’s the shit I had to deal with in order to roll out the red carpet for those thick-brained, underwear-model-looking—“

“They aren’t that good looking,” said Milmont.

“They are,” countered Corceo. “Now let her finish or I’ll tear your fucking tongue out.”

Dajhila with the hollow eyes quietly said, “We should’ve kept the talking stick.”

Frey held up the pointy, splintered remains of a blood-stained wooden dowel that had evidently been used to stab someone. The woman shrugged, conceding that it had worked better in theory than in practice. The red-haired demon tossed it aside, grabbed the bottle of alcohol from where it had settled on the table, then gestured to their current storyteller.

Tisha waited a beat to see if anyone would interrupt her before continuing. “I swear on my life, that Sam kid really is a psychic. They knew it was a trap. I’m sitting there with a semi-automatic rifle—I’m not fucking around—and all of a sudden the sprinklers are raining holy water.” Her lips curled downward at the memory as she snarled, “Sam used a megaphone from the parking lot to exorcise me. I only got to see their faces as my cloud was getting dragged back down.”

“Jesus,” exhaled Frey. “A megaphone… and you had a rifle.”

“What weapon did you go after them with?” asked Tisha.

He thought for a moment before finally admitting, “A big rock.” Everyone stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter, so he added, “Sometimes simple is best. We’re stronger than them and there was a big rock right there that I could throw— It was a tactical decision.”

“With genius thinking like that, it’s no wonder we can’t catch a break against them,” said Corceo.

Dajhila commented, “The only good news is that the dad, John, he died two months ago.”

“John Winchester, hunter savante— That piece of shit finally dropped?” Milmont looked around, eyes wide with excitement. “What did ‘im in?”

“I do not know.” The hollow-eyed woman crossed her bony arms. “Margot, down in processing, says his file is classified, but it is there.”

Frey leaned forward with interest. “File— We got him? Fucker isn’t playing a harp?”

“In the pit as we speak,” she replied smuggly. “Rumor is that Alastair’s working him personally.”

“Alastair?” asked Corceo. “They’re breaking out the Grand Torturer himself for a Winchester?”

Tisha nodded slowly to herself as she put together a few pieces. “Well, he is classified.”

The two women silently observing from their place on the iron maiden exchanged a knowing glance. The one in leather subtly placed her hand on a bulge by her belt that was obscured by her jacket, but the woman in the white dress discreetly shook her head and gestured for her to wait. At the order, the younger demon gave a quick roll of her eyes before relaxing her posture. By the time they’d turned their attention back to the meeting, the conversation had switched back to discussing different methods of pursuing the still-living brothers.

“Dean is a hedonist,” commented Dajhila. “Take a meatsuit with a figure as an hourglass and lay yourself in his path.”

Tisha raised an eyebrow. “You really think he’s going to fall for something like that?”

“He’s young and proud.”

Tisha countered, “He’s a paranoid with low self-esteem—“

“Here we go,” muttered Milmont.

“—You all think they’re heroes out of a fucking Greek epic, but they’re just men—feeble, petty little things—“

“Little,” Frey scoffed. “Have you even seen them?”

Tisha slammed her fist on the table. “They are mortal children, too absorbed by their grief and self-pity—Yes, they are little, but that makes them paranoid, partially-psychic, sneaky cunts who use megaphones.” She paused a moment to look around the table at the others, then said, “And maybe they don’t have it now or maybe I wasn’t worth the bullets, but they know about the Colt. They know how to kill us— Kill, not exorcise.”

After a brief, pensive silence, Milmont asked, “When was the last time you heard of one of us getting killed? Cain going nuts and turning traitor? That was almost 150 years ago—Earth time.”

Corceo nodded. “Half the crew in my dungeon wasn’t even turned back then. The sniveling pups thought we were immortal until they heard the news: the fucking Winchesters killed Tom.”

There was a grumble of shared frustration at the indignity. Humans had managed to kill demons, for the first time in over a century—and the bastards hadn’t even had the decency to stick around long enough to be killed in return.

“We have to stop them,” said Milmont quietly.

Frey scoffed. “Have you been listening or are ya’ as dense as iron?”

“Oh, choke on a ball of blades,” Tisha hissed.

The red-haired demon waved his arms, sarcastically miming fear.

“Save it. The enemy is up there.” Corceo waited to see if anyone would interrupt, then continued. “I’m tired of all this theatrical, solo bullshit. We murder them in their sleep. If they salt the door, we use guns. If they ward the building, burn it down. Fucking drive an oil tanker truck into them—this is war. So how do we find them?”

Milmont replied, “Since their dad died, my denmate, Bahshin, spotted them a few times with another hunter: male, middle-aged, reddish-brown greying hair and beard, baseball cap, one of those grizzled sorts.”

Tisha nodded. “I know the one. His name is Bobby—don’t know the last name. I’ve run into him and his partner a few times. He sticks to the north central U.S. Rural looking, lots of plaid. He had an old truck.”

“Fucking hick hunters,” muttered Frey.

The woman in leather sitting along the wall wordlessly withdrew a small notebook and pen from her pocket, then wrote down, “Margot: soul processing department grunt,” and “Bahshin: den-dweller, has an Earth pass.”

Corceo eyed the two silent newcomers from his place at the table. “Taking notes? Dainty little things like you gonna go gunning for the big bad Winchesters?” He laughed. “Well get in fucking line. You come here, don’t say shit, and crib off our hard work— How close have you come to offing them? What makes you so cocky you’re gonna be the ones to kill the bastards?”

The woman with the notepad gestured to her partner, inviting her to address the challenge. The demon in white stood up and smiled, unconcerned by the hostile attitude of the others in the room.

“We haven’t tried to kill them,” she replied. “And we have a plan, the likes of which history has never seen.”

“Ready to shared with the class?” Frey asked. “What brilliant plan are you two peons gonna try?”

“We’re gonna give them what they really want.”

Corceo’s eyes passed over the two women. “A pair of eager-to-please blondes in suggestive clothes?”

The woman in the white dress corrected him. “The only one we’re eager to please is our lord, Lucifer.”

A few of the demons chuckled at the absurd statement. Lucifer was a fairytale, as much as God and angels were to the humans.

“I’ll bite.” Corceo’s mouth curled into an amused grin, punctuated by the occasional barbed fangs. “What are you gonna give them?”

“We’re gonna make them heroes.”

The demons around the table laughed outright at the reply.

“You’re going to make them heroes? Those hunter bastards know about the Colt. They killed Tom. They’ve been exorcising us.” He placed his hands on the table and stood up, ready to confront them. “The Winchesters aren’t scared of us—not the way they should be. We’re demons. That still means something. So I don’t know what crazy scheme you’re thinking up, but it isn’t happening. They don’t get to be heroes. They die.”

“They’ll die when we—” She gestured to her partner “—say they die.”

“Looks like we have something of a race on our hands.” Cerceo walked up to her and stood so that they were only a few inches apart. A head taller than her, he glared down at her before hissing, “You think you can beat me to them?”

Her eyes turned white, causing his jaw to drop. “Child you’re busy boasting and we’re on step fifteen.” Lilith waved her right hand, locking the door to the room. In a quick backhanding gesture, she threw Corceo against the far wall, then turned to look at her companion. “Ruby.”

Ruby stood up and smiled as she drew her knife from the holster on her belt. She systematically worked her way through the room, killing the others while her partner held them in place with telekinesis. Afterward, she placed the bodies on the table, then rested her palms on the topmost corpse. A few lines of Aramaic later, blue flame engulfed the bodies, destroying the evidence.

While watching the fire, Lilith asked, “Is Meg ready?”

“She’s still running recon on the other children. In terms of pressure points so far: four have lovers, eight of them are close to a parent, and we have a few like Sam where the sibling could be an incentive. As of yesterday, she was watching the stoner with imprinting telepathy to figure out his achilles’ heel.” Ruby wiped her bloody blade on the sleeve of her jacket to clean it while asking, “Did you take care of Crowley?”

“I encouraged several of his aides to let a few deals lapse. Numbers are down. He’s dying to get a big deal.” Lilith looked at her. “The second Dean Winchester’s soul comes across his desk, he’ll sign off on the contract just to get his name on something. The grubby-fingered broker didn’t check the fine print on John; why should the son be any different? I’ll hold Dean’s contract and the moment he bites it, he’ll get expedited delivery to Alastair’s dungeon. No official processing. No gossip—” She gestured to the smoldering remains of the demon who had accidentally outed Margot as a leak in the processing department. “—No mistakes this time.”

Ruby huffed an unamused laugh. “The two of us sure as hell won’t have time to clean up any messes once this show gets rolling. Round one we could afford to have things go a little sideways. Once we pop up on Sam’s radar, that’s it. We’re in, and I’m not coming back downstairs on a fucking milk run.”

“It will all turn out,” Lilith assured her. “Our lord wills his return. He cannot be denied.”

Ruby didn’t reply to the pious statement. Instead she studied the charred racks in front of them. “I know he’s your mentor and we couldn’t have done this without him, but Azazel can’t survive this. You know that, right?”

Lilith nodded. “When he finishes aligning his pawns, he’ll throw the fight. He knows how important it is that Sam’s anger be directed solely at me. That means clearing the field for the next generation of nemeses.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruby placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder. “When I’m done with him, Sam will be foaming at the mouth to kill you.”

“I envy you,” Lilith sighed. “You’ll live to see our lord. It’s going to be beautiful.”

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