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vivmaek · 5 months

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LUNAR PHASES

The moon acts as a guiding light within the night sky and humans have used it to orient themselves within time and space since the dawn of our existence. However, our connection to the moon goes beyond practicality. Looking up at the moon evokes a sense of comfort, and its beauty is inspirational. As much as our planet has changed, for better or for worse, the moon remains consistent with its cycles. This sense of stability offers us wisdom, and each period of the lunar cycle represents a different stage of growth. I was inspired to write this post after reading a fascinating article that is titled, “Effects of different phases of the lunar month on humans.” The Author, Ujjwal Chakraborty, explored the ways in which the lunar cycle exerts influence upon human psychology and physiology. Chakraborty states, “The altered autonomic neural activity and cardiovascular activity during different lunar phases is probably one of the fundamental causes of the changes of human physiology.”(2014) The autonomic nervous system regulates heart rate, digestion, respiration, blood pressure, and sexual arousal. Any changes that occurs within the autonomic nervous system is going to affect human behavior. To see a spiritual phenomenon be explained through scientific research is incredibly thought provoking; this leads me to believe that the spiritual meanings attached to each lunar phase must hold a certain amount of truth to them. If anyone is interested, the article can be found here. Chakraborty has a few other articles dedicated to lunar research that are also quite compelling. If this information intrigues you, I’d recommend looking into “The Transylvania Effect.”

I. Lunar Phase Personalities

Click here to calculate the lunar phase you were born under.

✰ New Moon - Individuals born under this phase tend to be psychic and are gifted in their ability to acknowledge the unseen. They represent new beginnings and trust their inner instincts. This can make them rather impulsive at times. New moon babies seek out adventure and are dedicated to the process of learning. They want to experience all that life has to offer them and are not afraid to dream big. This is the only phase of the moon that is absent of light, and because of this new moon babies naturally stand out from the rest. They also make for efficient leaders because their emotions and ego are in alignment. However, they’re not the types to seek attention and would prefer to work behind the scenes. Their introverted qualities and reserved nature spark a lot of intrigue. People born under this phase can find potential within any endeavor and always have a fresh perspective to offer up. Learning how to embrace the unknown is a major life lesson for these types.

✰ Waxing Crescent - These types can appear timid, but once you get to know them they are incredibly lively individuals who are full of curiosity. They prefer to stick to the things that they know and might struggle with accepting change. People born under a waxing crescent moon might get stuck within the past at times. Being courageous is something they struggle with. However, they still feel a desire to go out and explore, but they will approach these adventures with a practical mindset. Waxing crescent babies are attached to their comfort zone and are good at maintaining this even when chasing after new experiences. They are also good at finding the right people to associate with. Security is everything to these types, and they prefer to build deep relationships with people who will be in their life for a very long time. I’ve noticed that these individuals might feel more awkward than they come across. They are perfectionist and struggle with self criticism, they might get stuck within their own head during social exchanges.

✰ First Quarter - There are not many individuals born under a first quarter moon, which makes these types out to be rather unique. These people are the “main characters,” and they know it. They are not afraid to take charge of their own lives and are highly ambitious. Individuals born under this phase are not dependent upon admiration or attention. The only person they’re looking to impress is themselves. First quarter babies embrace challenges. The more challenges a situation throws at them, the more likely they are to succeed. The type of person who never backs down, they love putting their skills and talents to the test. Someone looking for a solution is going to be drawn to an individual born under a first quarter moon. Their strong personalities invoke action within other people and they serve as a source of inspiration. These individuals become unstoppable once they develop patience and learn how to wait.

✰ Waxing Gibbous - A sense of maturity is immediately evident within these individuals. They are natural caretakers and people often seek them out to be nurtured. Waxing gibbous babies have a calm presence that elicits a sense of peace within others. These types maneuver social situations with grace and making friends comes easy to them. They inspire other people to be better, and some might try to emulate them. Other people notice their potential and can see what they’re capable of achieving, but individuals born under this phase struggle to see it within themselves. They might feel life they somehow always fall short or will tell themselves that they are not “enough.” This is the opposite of how people are perceiving them. They must learn how to care for themselves in the same way they care for other people. Developing a deep sense of self love is vital for waxing gibbous babies.

✰ Full Moon - Individuals born under this phase are filled to the brim with energy. They might come across as more aggressive than they intend to be. Learning how to gain control over their emotions is a major life lesson for these types. Full moon babies might feel as though they are being pulled in two opposite directions. Their ego and emotions are not in alignment, they feel stuck between passion and logic. Sometimes they will chase after their desires even if that's not what's actually best for them. They can see themselves going in many different directions and it can be hard for them to choose just one. This indecisive behavior frustrates other people, especially those who depend on them. These individuals will find more success once they develop a sense of consistency within their lives. Their sense of creativity is deserving of focus and should not be overlooked. As much as their spontaneous nature might frustrate people, they also bring with them a sense of excitement and this is greatly appreciated.

✰ Waning Gibbous - People born under this phase are often sought after for their wisdom and ability to teach. These old souls are great at communicating their thoughts and learning comes easy to them. It is unlikely that they will have to be taught the same lesson twice, they are not the types to make the same mistakes over and over again. However, being judgmental of others may be a struggle. These individuals need to understand that not everyone is going to learn as quickly as they do. They might become frustrated watching their friends running into the same issues over and over again and will offer up unsolicited advice. It would be best to let people come to them, people will ask for help if they need it. These types tend to place themselves within positions of authority and might struggle with their listening skills. They’re often caught lecturing people when really they should be listening.

✰ Third Quarter - These types are sentimental individuals who are capable of finding deep meaning within everyday life. They hold an appreciation for the little things and show gratitude for what they have. Third quarter babies become easily attached, it can be hard for them to move on from the past. They take things slowly and aren’t likely to be caught up within a rush. Their loyalty is often taken for granted, as well as their kindness. They are commonly found within their own little world. Nostalgia maintains a strong hold upon these types. However, this connection to the past can create unpleasantries within their present life. They may be quick to forgive, but that doesn't mean they’re over it. Sometimes this can be unfair, third quarter babies need to learn how to let go of the past when it's for the best.

✰ Waning Crescent - The ultimate day dreamers. Waning crescent babies have an extremely active imagination and are highly creative. They often have visions of what's to come and very little takes them by surprise. People are drawn to their deep insight and are attracted to their unconventional personalities. These types have a mystical presence, it seems as if they are from another world. Their opinions are uniquely theirs, which can sometimes lead to them being outcasted. However, they thrive when alone and oftentimes complete their best creative work during these moments. Throughout life, they remain true to themselves and are not afraid to embrace their eccentric qualities. They have lots of unconventional wisdom to offer. Many of these types are psychic and are in touch with the spiritual realm, but don’t quite realize this. Learning to embrace and trust their intuition is a big lesson for these types.

II. Living in Alignment with the Lunar Cycle

✰ New Moon - Plant your seeds. This is a time to set new intentions and begin new projects. Take it easy by planning a relaxing night in so you can get in touch with yourself. Forget about the past so you can focus on what's best for the present moment. Journal about your hopes and dreams and think about the steps you can take within the next week to get closer to your desires. Burn a white candle, and incorporate the smell of tangerine, lemon, and jasmine into your routine.

✰ Waxing Crescent Moon - This is the time to be productive. Make sure to partake in healthy habits, give yourself an extra hour of sleep by going to bed early. Continue to build upon the goals you set for yourself during the new moon. Practice meditation to remain focused within daily life. Eat a meal that would be beneficial for your health. Burn a green candle and incorporate the smell of bergamot, cedarwood, and ginger into your routine.

✰ First Quarter Moon - Take time to focus on what's working for you and what isn’t. What tweeks need to be made within your daily routines and habits? Try to complete any tasks you’ve been putting off under this lunar phase. Go for a walk and listen to music that energizes you. Burn a red candle and incorporate the smell of patchouli, lemon and ylang ylang into your routine.

✰ Waxing Gibbous Moon - Practice patience and journal about the times in your life in which you persevered. Focus on the progress you’ve made thus far and show gratitude for what you have. Try to complete whatever preparations are needed for the next few days so they will run more smoothly. Burn a yellow candle and incorporate the smell of rose or juniper into your routine.

✰ Full Moon - Celebrate all the work you’ve completed by doing activities that bring you happiness. Have a fun night out with friends, take yourself out to your favorite restaurant. This would be a good time to focus on socialization. Make an effort to show your friends and family some love. Burn a pink candle and incorporate the smell of sandalwood, cardamom and cinnamon into your routine.

✰ Waning Gibbous Moon - Take time to reflect on the lessons you’ve learned within the past couple weeks. This would be a great time to declutter your space. Make an effort to let go of any disappointment or minor inconveniences that have been bothering you. Be kind to yourself and journal about the opportunities certain failures have brought you. Burn a light blue candle and incorporate the smell of lavender and tea tree into your routine.

✰ Last Quarter Moon - Remove yourself from your burdens by engaging your mind with relaxing activities. This would be a good time to sit within nature. Read a book, watch one of your favorite tv shows or movies. Journal about recent frustrations so you can get them off your chest. Practice forgiveness for yourself and for others. Burn an indigo candle and incorporate the smell of peppermint and eucalyptus into your routine.

✰ Waning Crescent Moon - Prepare yourself a comfort meal and draw a hot bath. Stretch your body and practice breathing exercises. Give yourself a massage or ask someone else to give you one. Focus on what you are drawn to as well as the desires that are developed while in a state of relaxation, try to write them down. Burn a purple candle and incorporate the smell of frankincense, sage, and lavender.

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saltywritings · 3 months

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The Bonds of Blood (Aegon Targaryen II x Reader) Dark Content

Summary: Aegon visits Aemond's wife at night.

Warnings: very dark fic, noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, slight stalking, envy, descriptive smut, blackmail, and trickery. adults only.

You've been married to Aemond for three lunar cycles now. He had shown glimpses of kindness in his own way… when he was present. Yet, to call him merely "kind" felt too generous—he merely existed. He was passive, seemingly disengaged. You endeavored to spark his interest. You inquired about his dragon and extended offers to share books with him. Nevertheless, the moments spent together felt devoid of life. Even amidst conversation, the emptiness hung heavy in the air.

Passion was absent, and intimate moments were few and far between, lacking any semblance of desire. His gaze scarcely met yours, and his departures were swift. The only instances when Aemond displayed any semblance of spousal behavior were in the presence of his elder brother. It seemed as though Aemond harbored a tinge of jealousy towards Aegon, perhaps protective of you from his brother's attention. Despite Aegon being among the few at court who showed genuine interest in you, Aemond repeatedly cautioned his brother to steer clear of his wife. Nonetheless, Aegon's presence always found its way back to you, defying Aemond's warnings.

At times, you found yourself pondering the possibilities of a different marriage, yet you endeavored to remain grateful that your husband was not cruel or violent. Despite this, the weight of duty pressed heavily upon you. Three moons had passed, and still, your womb remained empty, testing the limits of your hope. This was of course until the night you woke up.

As your eyes begun to flutter you first noticed the pressure on your body. The rhythmic creaking of the bed caught your attention, though initially, you were uncertain of its cause. This was until you could feel him, inside of you. He was engulfed in you, your tight pussy clinging around him. Aching for a sensation that he, your husband, had not provided you with this moon. A moan had parted from your lips, remaining in your throat as you pushed yourself up slightly.

"A-Aemond?" You questioned; a hand quickly pushed down on your back, holding you down against the bed. Your body obeyed, though your lips continued to spill the sweet sounds of desire.

There was a feeling inside of you. It was unfamiliar, foreign. A tightening deep within your womanhood that clung around your husbands length.

"A-Aemond, I-I-"You did not even know how to form words to explain what was happening, however, his hand hard against your back his length continued. Hard, smashing into you as you begun to spasm around him. Your first release would consume you- It made sounds that never left your lips bounce on the stone walls of the room causing him to push your face down into the bed to silence you. His trust quickened and soon you could feel him fill you.

This feeling was familiar, the other was not. You could feel his seed, sticky and thick, as he fucked every last drop into you. His trust becoming lazy as he kept you pushed down on the bed. He stayed there like that and while you wanted to question him you could not move. When he did pull himself from you he left the room before you could even fully turn around. Leaving you to sleep, sticky, and unaware of what your husband's brother had just done to you.

For you had thought that your husband had come to your room, late at night, to finally fulfil his desires . . . or his duty. Regardless you were finally happy to be fulfilling yours.

Aegon would come to you when you were asleep each day that week. He pushed you down on the mattress, face down, and always left without saying a word.

Tonight was no exception for Aegon. He had managed to slip into your room undetected, pausing for a moment at the foot of the bed. As you slumbered, as you often did, he couldn't help but notice how your features seemed almost angelic in the moonlight, reminiscent of a painting he had once seen of the Mother. Aegon's eyes were fixated on your chest, watching your breast as they rose and fell with your breathing. What he would give to fuck you in the day light. Aegon crept onto the bed, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he deftly peeled away the blankets. Your legs were apart, waiting for him, he was certain.

Aegon normally flipped you over but tonight was different. He could not resist, for his hands carefully removed your undergarments. He brought them to his face and took an inhale of your sweet scent. His cock had become rock hard, stirring in his trousers as he brought them down. He did not wat a moment longer, for he soon pushed down on your thighs and slid himself inside of you. Even after nights of stuffing himself inside of you, your cunt was deliciously tight. Aegon begun to thrust into you, concerned about his own pleasure.

Your body became tense with him inside you, he watched as your face contorted; soft sounds falling from your lips as he thrusted into you.

The sensation was no longer unfamiliar. As you stirred from your slumber, you found yourself beginning to embrace the feeling. Yet, as your eyelids fluttered open, you gazed upward. For the first time since your husband had started visiting you at this late hour, you were able to meet his gaze. However, now eye to eye, you were able to see that this was not your husband. It was Aegon who had welcomed himself into your body, hands gripping on your waist as he spit you on his cock, grunting into you, and filling you with his seed each night.

"A-Aegon!" You asked in an out rage, a smile creeping on his lips as he placed his hand over your mouth.

"Shh-" He ordered as he started to thrust into you at an accelerated rate. Without mercy. You were tightening around him, involuntarily. You were trying to fight off the feeling of your own release; tears had been pooling in the corners of your eyes as you whimpered for mercy.

There was no mercy here.

Aegon knew what you were doing and continued until you spasmed around him causing him to hum. "Good Girl." He cooed to you, taking his fingers and now shoving them into your mouth. Looking at you, your hole full of his cock and another full of his fingers. "Fucking look at you, getting fucked by your husbands brother. You whore." Aegon said in a grunt as he continued his speed, slowing down slightly to savor this moment.

"You love this, don't you?" Aegon asked, his fingers pushing down on your tongue, causing you to gag on his fingers. You could not answer, you didn't have to. The slickness between your legs said more than any defense you would have given.

"Ah, Gods- I'm close. It's so hard to last inside you." Aegon spoke in a grunt as he continued to fuck you teasingly slow. "Aemond doesn't know what he's missing." He continued on.

Aegon would pick up his speed, unable to hold off any longer as he soon tense his body, his cock spasming inside of you. "Fuck- fucking milk me you whore." Aegon says as he fills you, ensuring that not a drop of his seed is leaking out of you, his free hand pushing down on your thigh so you have no option but to take it. He soon pulls his finger from your mouth and slowly unsheathes his cock from within you.

Aegon turns over to you and without a moment hesitation informs you, "You'll have to fuck Aemond here soon, convince him that he actually managed to get you pregnant."

#aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #dark aegon smut #dark house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 15 days

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Shadow | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual contact (not on reader)

Word Count: 5069

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Sam made himself and Dean don goofy outfits to go investigate the death of some poor girl who died the previous week. You were dressed as their supervisor, so you didn’t have to dress like the third Imagination Mover.

“You know, I’ve gotta say Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes,” Dean complained. “I feel like a high school drama dork. What was that play that you did? What was it— Our Town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute.”

“You did theater?” you asked Sam.

“Look, you wanna pull this off or not?” The brunet changed the subject.

“I’m just sayin’, these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?”

“Whose?” You gave Dean a look.

“Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?”

***

The landlady of the young woman’s apartment building let you into the deceased’s room. She called the alarm company as useful as “boobs on a man.” She explained how Meredith had been found in pieces scattered around the apartment. The landlady said there had been no signs of break in, and allowed you and the Winchesters to check the apartment out for a bit.

“So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment—no weapons, no prints, nothin’,” Dean said.

“I’m tellin’ ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig,” Sam replied.

The EMF meter Dean was holding beeped rapidly.

“I definitely agree with you,” you chimed in.

“So, you talked to the cops?” Sam asked his brother.

Dean smirked. “I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law.”

You ignored the way your heart squeezed in your chest. “Yeah? What’d you find out?” You did your best not to let on the emotional storm he was sending you into.

“Well, she’s a Sagittarius,” he said dreamily. “She loves tequila, I mean— wow. Oh, and she’s got this little tattoo—”

“Dean!” Sam cut his brother off.

“What? Yeah. Uh, nothin’ we don’t already know. Except for one thing they’re keepin’ out of the papers. Meredith’s heart was missing.”

“Her heart?” the younger brother sounded stunned. “So, what do you think did it to her?”

“Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was— werewolf?”

You shook your head. “No, the lunar cycle’s not right. Plus, if it was a creature or somethin’, it would’ve left some kind of trace. It’s gotta be a spirit.”

Dean looked down at the blood stains on the white carpet and seemed to notice something. “Sam, see if you can find any masking tape.” His idea of taping the space between the splotches of blood like a twisted connect-the-dots revealed a strange symbol on the ground that looked like an “S” with a small circle cutting through the middle of it.

***

You were gulping down beers like there was no tomorrow and trying to peel your eyes away from Dean flirting with the gorgeous bartender. You and Sam were sitting at an empty table and leafing through his father’s journal.

“(Y/N), if you stare any harder at him, you’re gonna burst a blood vessel.”

You looked over at Sam. “Shut up.”

“You like him, huh?”

“What am I, five? No, I don’t like him,” you responded.

He gave you a knowing look. “C’mon, (Y/N/N), don’t lie to me.”

You sighed, taking a big gulp of your drink first. “I don’t know, man. I’m not good with feelings.”

Before Sam could respond, Dean was back over at your table. “I talked to the bartender,” he grinned.

“Did you get anything? Besides her number?” Sam asked.

Dean scrunched his face up. “Dude, I’m a professional. I’m offended that you would think that.” Sam gave him a look, and Dean bashfully held up a napkin with the bartender’s number on it in response.

“You mind doin’ a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?” you asked.

“Huh? Look, there’s nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn’t do or say anything weird before she died, so— what about that symbol, you find anything?”

The younger brother shook his head. “Nope, nothing. It wasn’t in Dad’s journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess.”

“Well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?” you brought up.

“His name was, uh, his name was Ben Swardstrom.” He pulled a newspaper clipping out of the journal and handed it to Dean, “Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal; the door was locked, the alarm was on.”

“Is there any connection between the two of them?”

“Not that I can tell—I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common—they were practically from different worlds.”

“So, to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is the bartender’s phone number," the younger brother deadpanned.

Dean smirked at you and Sam, and you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. Sam seemed to notice something on the other side of the room.

“What?” you asked.

Without answering you, Sam got up from the table and headed past his brother. You followed him to a table where a blonde woman with short hair sat.

“Meg?” he asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows as the woman turned around and exclaimed, “Sam! Is that you? Oh, my god! What are you doing here?” She gave him a hug, and you could see on Sam’s face that he was confused.

“I’m just in town, visiting friends,” he lied.

The young woman looked around. “Where are they?”

You stepped up from his side. “Me!” you lied. “Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

She gave you a smile, “Yeah, I remember, Sam told me about you.”

You turned to the younger Winchester. “He did?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam answered. “Meg, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to California.”

Dean came up between you and Sam; eyes raking over Meg’s body.

“Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar,” she explained.

Sam looked confused. “Who?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I’m living here for a while,” she shrugged.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, but was ignored.

“You’re from Chicago?” Sam questioned.

“No, Massachusetts. Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we’d run into each other?” The grin she gave unsettled you.

“Yeah, I know, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Dean cleared his throat again, earning a “Dude, cover your mouth,” from Meg.

Sam chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, um, I’m sorry, Meg. This is, uh— this is my brother, Dean.”

She looked surprised. “This is Dean?”

“So, you’ve heard of me?” Dean gave her a salacious grin.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of you. Nice; the way you treat your brother like luggage,” she said harshly.

“Sorry?” Dean was stunned and so were you.

The woman didn't let up, and if it weren't for your horrible gut feeling, the two of you would likely be good friends. “Why don’t you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over god’s green earth.”

“Meg, it’s alright,” Sam said.

Dean whistled lowly. “Okay, awkward. I’m gonna get a drink now. C’mon, (Y/N).”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” And with that, you bounded off to the bar with him. “What’s with that chick?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. Weird, right?”

“Yeah, completely,” you responded.

The older Winchester motioned at the pretty bartender he’d spoken to earlier for two beers.

“Sam ever mention her?” you asked him. “They seemed pretty chummy.”

“Why, you jealous?”

You scoffed. “No way. He reminds me too much of my brother. Freud would be rolling in his grave if I was. She’s just… bizarre.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he grumbled, sipping his beer.

Sam came over to you and told you it was time to go.

��What, why?” you asked.

“Just… come on, (Y/N/N),” Sam responded. He dragged the two of you out of the bar after you and Dean chugged your beers quickly.

“Who the hell was she?” Dean questioned as you crossed the street outside of the bar.

“I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, man, it’s weird.”

“Yeah, she seemed to really know you,” you said. “You said you only met her once?”

He nodded.

“And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin’ about me to some chick?” Dean’s tone was on-guard immediately.

“Look, I’m sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that’s not important, just listen—”

“Well, is there any truth to what she’s saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?”

Sam stopped his brother. “No, of course not. Now, would you listen? I think there’s somethin’ strange going on here, guys.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean muttered. “She wasn’t even that into me.”

You elbowed him sharply. “Upstairs brain, please.”

“I mean like, our kind of strange.” Sam ignored his brother’s comment. “Like, maybe even a lead.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don’t think that’s a little weird?”

“Well, yeah,” you said. “But I think I would’ve noticed if she was following us.”

“Yeah, okay, Nancy Drew,” Dean chided.

“Listen, dickhead, I’m very observant,” you responded playfully.

“Guys, can we focus, please? Look, I could be wrong, I’m just sayin’ that there’s something about this girl that I can’t quite put my finger on,” Sam continued.

“Well, I bet you’d like to. I mean, maybe she’s not a suspect, maybe you’ve got a thing for her, huh?” Dean’s grin was widening by the second.

Sam rolled his eyes and you laughed.

“Maybe you’re thinkin’ a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?” Dean pointed to his head and then down to his groin.

Sam gave the two of you a bitchface. “Do me a favor. Check and see if there’s really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can’t dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith’s floor.”

“What are you gonna do?” Dean asked him.

“I’m gonna watch Meg.”

The older brother laughed. “Yeah, you are.”

“I just wanna see what’s what. Better safe than sorry.”

“Alright, you little pervert.” Dean continued walking.

“Dude!”

“We’re goin’, we’re goin’.”

“Bye, Sam!” you called over your shoulder. You and Dean walked a few blocks down to Sam and Dean’s motel room and set to work searching for Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts.

***

About thirty minutes later, Sam called you. “Hey.” You continued clicking through pages on your computer.

“Finding anything?” he asked.

“Yeah, she checks out. High school yearbook picture and everything.”

Dean took your phone from you. “Let me guess. You’re lurkin’ outside that poor girl’s apartment, aren’t you?... You’ve got a funny way of showin’ your affection. Now, look, why don’t you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?... Yeah, that (Y/N) did have some luck with. It’s, uh, turns out it’s very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It’s a sigil for a Daeva.”

Dean handed the phone back to you. “He’s lookin’ for a nerd definition. You’re better with that than I am.”

You rolled your eyes. “ 'Daeva' translates to ‘demon of darkness’. They’re Zoroastrian demons, and they’re freakin’ animals, dude. Dean said they’re demonic pitbulls.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“Google, man. It’s a magical place.”

He laughed.

“Oh, one more thing!” you gasped. “These Daevas, they have to be summoned; conjured.”

Sam sounded surprised. “So, someone’s controlling it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’. And, from what I gather, it’s pretty risky business, too. These bitches tend to bite the hand that feeds them.”

“And, uh, the arms, and torsos,” Dean quipped loud enough for his brother to hear.

“So, what do they look like?” Sam asked you.

“Nobody knows. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? We’ve definitely got a major player in town.”

Dean took the phone back from you. “Now, why don’t you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?... No, bite her. Don’t leave teeth marks, though— Sam? Are you—?” He took your phone away from his ear. “He hung up.”

“Yeah, you fucking perv. You know he’s a total prude,” you snickered. “I’m kind of exhausted, if I’m being honest. Do you mind if I sleep here for a bit?” you asked him, referring to his bed that you were lounging on.

He shrugged. “Go right ahead. I’ll wake you up when Sam’s back.”

“Thanks. Night, Dee.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

You rolled away from him, sighing contentedly. You brought the covers up around your neck, and Dean's scent engulfed you as you did so.

You often found yourself unable to rest when you were alone in your room. Some part of you was still afraid of your father bursting into your room at four in the morning to go run drills if he was disappointed in your performance from the day before. And if sleep did grace you, it was normally hours of tossing and turning before you could finally turn your brain off. But somehow, this man you were just beginning to know made you feel safe enough to drift off in minutes.

***

You awoke to Dean lightly shaking you awake. You snapped into fight or flight and gripped his wrist, shooting up from the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s just me,” he told you.

“Sorry,” you said, cheeks burning. “Hey, Sam.”

Sam proceeded to explain what he’d seen after following Meg into a warehouse.

“So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?” Dean quipped.

“Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing,” Sam responded.

“So, Sammy’s got a thing for the bad girl,” he chuckled. “And what’s the deal with that bowl again?”

“She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone.”

“With who? With the Daeva?”

The younger man shook his head. “No, (Y/N) said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who’s giving her orders. Someone who’s comin’ to that warehouse.”

Dean thought for a moment and then looked over some of the papers the two of you had spread out on the table. “Holy crap.”

“What?” You jumped out of bed and walked over to him.

“What I was gonna tell Sam earlier—I pulled a favor with my—” he cleared his throat— “friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims— we missed something the first time.”

“What?”

“The first victim, the old man— he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here. Look where he was born.” He pointed to a spot on the page.

“Lawrence,” you breathed.

Dean continued to shuffle through files. “Meredith, second victim? Turns out she was adopted. And guess where she’s from.”

“Holy crap,” Sam muttered. “I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That’s where everything started. So, you think Meg’s tied up with the demon?”

“I think it’s a definite possibility,” the older brother answered.

“But I don’t understand. What’s the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?” Sam questioned.

“Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.”

“No, we can’t. We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve gotta stake out that warehouse. We’ve gotta see who, or what, is showin’ up to meet her.” Sam pulled a hand through his hair and began to pace.

“I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t think we should do this alone,” Dean said.

“Dean, do you even think your dad will answer?” you asked him, knowing what he meant.

He didn’t answer but told you, “You and Sam go stake out the trunk. Get me somethin’ good.”

You nodded. “C’mon, Sam.”

You grabbed anything and everything out of the trunk that could’ve been remotely useful. Holy water, numerous weapons, and different books containing dozens of different exorcism rituals.

When you returned to the room, Dean was talking to who you deduced was his father on the phone. “We think we’ve got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it’s 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can.”

“Voicemail?” you questioned.

He nodded. He gestured to the stuffed duffel bags you and Sam were holding. “Jesus, what’d you get?”

“We ransacked the trunk,” Sam explained and listed off all the things you had grabbed.

Dean nodded and breathed deeply. “Big night.”

“Yeah. You nervous?” the younger brother asked.

“No. Why, are you?”

“No. No way.” He was silent for a moment. “God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright?”

“I know. I’m just sayin’, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school— be a person again.”

“You wanna go back to school?” you asked Sam.

“Yeah, once we’re done huntin’ the thing,” he answered.

You felt slightly saddened. “Oh.”

“Why, is there somethin’ wrong with that?”

“No, no! It’s, uh, great. I’m proud of you,” you told him.

“I mean, what are you two gonna do when it’s all over?” Sam asked.

“It’s never gonna be over,” Dean answered. “There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt.” He looked to you. “And I’m gonna need a new hunting partner if Sam’s not gonna be around… so…”

You gave him a lopsided smile.

Sam continued prodding. “But there’s got to be somethin’ that you want for yourself—”

Dean cut his brother off. “Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam.” He turned away.

“Dude, what’s your problem?”

“Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh?” Dean asked his brother rhetorically. “I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?”

“ ‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.” Sam looked confused.

“Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. You and me and Dad— I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again.”

Sam’s tone softened. “Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before.”

Dean looked heartbroken, and yours ached for him, too. “Could be.”

“I don’t want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.”

You watched Sam with sad eyes, but you and Dean said nothing as you left the room to head to the warehouse.

***

You carefully climbed your way up the elevator shaft hearing Meg’s melodic voice talking in a language you couldn’t recognize getting louder and louder as you ascended. You tried your best not to make much noise while you climbed; a feat the brothers seemed to have trouble with.

You peeked over the cement slab that made up the seventh floor of the warehouse. Meg’s back was turned to you and she continued speaking into the goblet she was holding. Sam quietly pulled the gate open just wide enough for you and the brothers to slip through. The three of you headed behind two of the support posts of the warehouse. You drew your guns from your jeans and steadied your breath to attack her.

“Guys,” Meg spoke; never turning around.

You looked at the brothers in shock.

“Hiding’s a little bit childish, don’t you think?” her smooth voice continued.

“Well, that didn’t work out like I planned,” Dean muttered to you. You would have laughed had it not been for your situation.

Meg turned and her boots clacked on the floor as she approached you. “Why don’t you come out?”

You slowly moved from behind the crates.

“Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship,” she snarled.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, where’s your little Daeva friend?” you asked her.

“Around,” she sing-songed. “You know, that shotgun’s not gonna do much good.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun’s not for the demon,” Dean responded. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“So, who is it, Meg? Who’s coming? Who are you waiting for?” Sam jumped in.

“You,” she smiled. Just behind her on her left, you saw shadows beginning to form in the shape of demons in flowing, tattered robes on the wall.

Before you knew it, you were knocked to the ground, screaming in pain as something slashed your right cheek and left shoulder. It was proving difficult to fight something you couldn’t see. You screamed in pain again as you felt a slash across your thigh, and whited out from the pain.

When you came to, your hands were bound behind your back. You struggled against your restraints as Dean spoke. “Hey, Sam? Don’t take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend… is a bitch.”

Dean had been tied on your right side; backs against the sides of the cement post.

“This, the whole thing, was a trap,” Sam figured out. “Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearin’ what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn’t it?”

Meg laughed.

“And that the victims were from Lawrence?” Sam continued.

“It doesn’t mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that’s all,” the blonde smiled.

“You killed those two people for nothin’.”

“Baby, I’ve killed a lot more for a lot less,” she replied smugly.

“You trapped us. Good for you. It’s Miller time.” You could hear the smile in the older brother’s voice. “But why don’t you kill us already?”

You thought for a second. “Because it’s not a trap for us. It’s a trap for John.”

Meg tsked at the brothers. “I like her. She’s a lot quicker on the uptake.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re dumber than you look,” Dean told her. “ 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn’t walk into something like this. He’s too good.”

Meg approached Dean and straddled his legs. “He is pretty good. I’ll give you that. But you see, he has one weakness.”

“What’s that?” the older brother winced uncomfortably. You strained against your restraints even more, trying to be able to get to Dean.

You could see Meg leaning closer to Dean, her voice somehow becoming even more sultry. “You. He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he’ll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody— nice and slow and messy.”

Dean’s voice strained in discomfort. “Well, I’ve got news for ya. It’s gonna take a lot more than some… shadow to kill him.”

“Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they’re invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see,” she explained.

“Why you doin’ this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?” Sam asked her.

“I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do: loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy and Jess.”

“Go to hell,” he responded.

“Baby, I’m already there.” She slid over to Sam and straddled him. “C’mon, Sam, there’s no need to be nasty.”

You didn’t like the full show you were being given of Meg leaning into his ear and ghosting her lips over his neck. “I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me— changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Ew, Sam!” you scolded him.

“Get a room, you two,” Dean grumbled simultaneously.

“I didn’t mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun.” Meg kissed up his neck.

“You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I’m a little tied up right now,” Sam responded.

She smiled and continued to kiss him. She stopped when she heard something from your side of the room. She stalked over to yours and Dean’s post and took the knife from his hand, tossing it into a corner. Meg walked back over to Sam. “Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?”

“No, no,” he told her. “That’s because I have a knife of my own.” She seemed confused until he broke free and knocked his head against hers; sending her to the floor.

“Sam! Get the altar!” you instructed.

He ran over to it and aggressively turned it over. Before you knew it, Meg was sent flying out of the warehouse’s window and to the ground below. Sam came back over to you two and cut you free. You headed over to the window to see Meg’s dead body sprawled over the ground. “So, I guess the Daevas didn’t like being bossed around,” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, I guess not. Hey, Sam?” Dean said. “Next time you wanna get laid, find a girl that’s not so buckets-o’-crazy, huh?”

***

You and the boys returned to their motel room so you could patch each other up and recover. You weren’t so convinced that your run-in with the Daevas was over and brought the duffel bag inside with you.

“Why didn’t you just leave that stuff in the car?” Dean asked you.

“Better safe than sorry,” you shrugged.

The older Winchester unlocked the door before you and you entered the room. You noticed the silhouette of a burly man standing by the window. You flipped on the light while Dean exclaimed, “Hey!”

The man turned around, and your jaw nearly fell to the floor at the sight of the scruffy, tanned man before you.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

John smiled. “Hey, boys.” He and his oldest son walked toward each other and shared a long hug. You smiled at them sadly. When they pulled away, John turned to his youngest. “Hi, Sam.” They shared a long look before John turned to you. “Didn’t think I’d see you again after Jericho,” he told you.

You responded, “I didn’t think I’d see your boys again after Jericho, either.”

John gave you a half-smile. “Thank you. For looking after them.”

You nodded in acknowledgement.

“Dad, it was a trap. I didn’t know; I’m sorry,” Dean began.

“It’s alright. I thought it might’ve been.”

“Were you there?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?”

“Yes, sir,” the boys answered their father.

“Good. Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before,” John sighed. “It knows I’m close. It knows I’m gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell. Actually kill it.”

“How?” you asked.

“I’m workin’ on that,” the older man responded.

“Let us come with you. We’ll help,” Sam urged.

John’s tone hardened. “No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don’t want you caught in a crossfire. I don’t want you hurt.”

Sam shook his head. “Dad, you don’t have to worry about us.”

“Of course I do. I’m your father.” He paused. “Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nodded.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.” Tears formed in Sam’s eyes as he finally hugged his father.

Suddenly, you were thrown across the room by an invisible force, something clawing at your back.

“No!” Dean yelled before he was thrown down next to you.

Deep claw marks formed on a number of parts of your body— your legs, arms, face, stomach— everywhere.

“Shut your eyes!” Sam yelled over the chaos. “These things are shadow demons, so let’s light ‘em up!” Suddenly, a bright light began to fill the room.

You and the three men fumbled your way around trying to feel your way out of the room.

“(Y/N)!” Dean called to you while Sam called to his father.

“I’m here!” you told him. You felt his arms around you pulling you out of the room. Your leg protested and made you yelp in pain. You knew Dean was hurting, too, and you tried your best to continue moving forward.

“(Y/N), let me help you!” Dean urged you as you continued to stumble out of the room.

“No!” you said, but Dean swept you up anyway. “Dean!” He carried you out of the room and toward the car. You finally gave in and wound your arms around his neck. When he put you down in the backseat, you held your leg and groaned in pain.

“Alright, come on,” Sam said. “We don’t have much time. As soon as the flare’s out, they’ll be back.” Sam moved to get in the car, too.

“Wait, wait, wait! Sam, wait. Dad, you can’t come with us.”

Sam huffed. “What? What are you talkin’ about?”

“You boys— you’re beat to hell,” John protested.

“We’ll be alright,” Dean answered.

“Dean, we should stick together. We’ll go after those demons—”

Dean turned to his brother. “Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand? They’re not gonna stop. They’re gonna try again. They’re gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He— he’s stronger without us around.”

“Dad, no—” Sam put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “After everything— after all the time we spent lookin’ for you, please. I gotta be a part of this fight.”

“Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you’ve got to trust me, son—”

Sam shook his head as his father continued to speak.

“—Okay, you’ve gotta let me go,” John told him. Finally, Sam patted his father’s shoulder and allowed him to move away.

The three of you watched as got in his truck and drove off. You knew Dean was right, but it was so bizarre to let this man you spent so much time looking for leave just like that.

“Come on,” Dean told his brother. And with that, the three of you were off to god-knows-where to lick your wounds and get a hopefully decent amount of sleep.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: hokaanir riduurok

pairing: din djarin x non-mandalorian female reader

rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI)

word count: 6278

summary:

hokaanir riduurok - the mandalorian joining ceremony during which one warrior submits themselves to their intended, allowing their flesh to be carved with a symbol of their unity.

or: you marry a mandalorian and their weddings are a little different than you’re used to

author’s note: a gift for @dindjarinslegs , who’s beautiful brain sparked this whole work. the term of endearment “pirun’ner” comes from this list by user @starrypawz . if you enjoy this work, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging!

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual material (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, very plot heavy porn, writer considers ‘din’ to be the mandalorian’s first name, exploration of Mandalorian customs and lore, use of Mando’a, ceremonial scarification, mentions of blood and wounds, use of weapons, use of aphrodisiacs, wedding ceremony, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, mild/moderate breeding kink, cum play, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, biting/marking, thigh riding, dirty talk, praise, pet names, reader i have taken liberties. let me know if there are any missing!

You’re washing a dish when you hear the metallic clang of heavy beskar approaching. You turn, ready to greet the Mandalorian, only to find Din holding a blade out to you across both palms, helmet tilted down and feet planted wide. You glance at Grogu, who offers only a slow blink of his large dark eyes and a twitch of his ears in answer.

“Uh…Din? What…what are you doing?” You ask. He lifts his helmet, dark visor obscuring your view of his face but not the white hot feel of his gaze across your skin.

“In Mandalorian culture it is tradition to present our intended riduur a blade with which to complete the hokaanir riduurok,” his modulated voice explains.

“Right, right. Of course,” you mumble. You dry your hands on the apron around your waist. “What uh…what’s that, exactly?”

“The Mandalorian joining ceremony.”

You blink. “Joining ceremony? You mean like…marriage?”

“To Mandalorians it is more than marriage but…yes.”

“Din Djarin, is this a proposal?” You ask. You can’t stop the broad smile spreading across your face as you approach him.

“Yes, cyar'ika,” he murmurs, armor heavy arms wrapping around your waist when you’re within arms reach. “Is this an acceptance?”

He tilts his head, pressing the cold beskar to your forehead. A keldabe kiss, he’d told you once.

“Of course.”

________

Din calls the Armorer following his proposal. She, along with Bo-Katan, have chosen to remain on Mandalore with a number of Mandalorians who wish to rebuild the planet to its former glory after the fight against Moff Gideon.

“She has accepted the blade,” Din tells the Armorer’s hologram.

“It has been a long time since the Tribe has seen a proper Mandalorian wedding,” the Armorer says. “Even longer since the sands of Mandalore have borne witness.” She pauses, helmet tilting to the side. “Did you tell her the significance of the blade?”

“I told her it was for the joining ceremony,” Din replies. He should have known the Armorer would see right through him.

“Yes, but did you tell her its purpose? How she is meant to carve her possession into your flesh to be kept with you for the rest of your days?”

“I may have neglected to provide that much detail.”

The Armorer sighs. “I would suggest you bring your aruetii to Mandalore ahead of your joining ceremony. We will have much to discuss.”

“We will endeavor to arrive within the next lunar cycle,” Din concedes.

“This is the Way,” the Armorer intones.

“This is the Way.”

________

“I can't believe I’m visiting Mandalore,” you say excitedly. “I’ve never even been off Nevarro.”

Din is strapping you into the co-pilot seat of the freighter ship he’s borrowed from Karga’s fleet. While he’s content to fly and sleep in his Starfighter, he said he wants you to be more comfortable during your first trip off-world.

“Stop moving, pirun’ner,” he says, fitting the straps across your chest. You wiggle again, just to be stubborn, and he huffs a laugh, tapping his helmet to the crown of your head.

“You know, you’ve never told me what that means,” you say as he takes a seat in the captain’s chair. You watch as he confidently moves through the pre-flight motions, flicking switches and pressing buttons, inputting coordinates and checking gauges.

“The literal translation from Mando’a is ‘my water’,” he says. “Water begets life. Without water, there is no living.”

“Din…,” you murmur, words getting caught in your throat. “Makes me feel bad for the nickname I give you in my head.”

He turns his head, somehow managing to look affronted despite you not being able to see his face. “And what nickname is that?”

“Tin man,” you joke.

“But…this is beskar,” he says, clearly not understanding your joke and you can’t help but laugh.

The nickname comes from the early days of your relationship with the Mandalorian.

As Nevarro’s resident baker, you’re familiar with the locals and even more familiar with the gossip around newcomers. The town buzzed with excitement when one of the Mandalorians that defended the trading town had returned and settled on the outskirts with his son.

The first time you saw him was when his son made a cookie float off your display and into his little green hand. The Mandalorian had shown up while you were bent to the little creature’s level, asking where his parents were.

“Grogu,” his modulated voice chastised. “We talked about this.”

He was clad head to toe in the beskar armor you’re now intimately familiar with, but you didn’t know that at the time, so you called him ‘tin man’ in your mind. You didn’t learn his name until around the third time he’d visited your bakery.

The ship jerks harshly in take-off, breaking you from your trip down memory lane. Your fingers curl nervously against the armrests of your seat.

“Does that usually happen?” You ask.

Din must sense the anxiety coming off of you in waves. He reaches a gloved hand over and rests it over yours. “You are safe with me, cyar'ika. I would never let any harm come to you.”

You smile at him, the tension easing from your shoulders. You turn your hand palm upwards to fold your fingers between his.

“I know.”

________

Later, in the pitch black crew cabin, you’re curled against Din’s body on the scratchy cot as the ship’s autopilot continues your voyage, reveling in the feel of him against you without all the beskar and weapons. He feels human like this, soft, yet somehow still your solid pillar of strength in a galaxy not built for gentle things.

“Tell me about Mandalore,” you murmur.

“It’s not the same as it once was,” he replies, his unmodulated voice deep like the vastness of space beyond the ship. “It’s harsher now. War ravaged. For a long time we were told it was not even fit for life.”

“Were you raised there?”

“No. I was born on Aq Vetina. There was…a raid. My parents were killed. Battle droids. I was raised as a foundling on Concordia, Mandalore’s moon.”

“I’m so sorry, Din,” you whisper. You trace your hand up his chest and neck until you can cup his stubbled cheek in your palm.

“I didn’t set foot on Mandalore until recently. I had…removed my helmet, in the presence of others, which goes against the very tenets of The Creed.” He takes a deep breath. “I was an apostate. Dar’manda.”

“Seems kind of harsh.”

He chuckles. “You and Bo-Katan will get along well.”

“You still wear the armor,” you point out. “If you’re not a Mandalorian, is that allowed?”

“By bathing in the Living Waters in the Mines of Mandalore, someone who is dar’manda can seek redemption. It was a long shot. The Mines were thought to be destroyed.”

“But they weren’t?”

“No. The planet is more hospitable than we were led to believe, even in its ravaged state. It’s why Bo-Katan is able to rebuild, to reunite what once was broken.”

“So, you were able to bathe in the Mines then?”

“Yes. I have redeemed myself in the eyes of the Creed.”

Your mind conjures an image of your Mandalorian, tall and broad though his face is nothing more than a blur, stripped of his armor as he wades into a pool of water. You rub your thighs together, hoping the friction eases the ache forming between your legs.

“What are you thinking about, pirun’ner?” Din asks. His voice has gone lower, darker, and his hand presses you closer to his body. You realize you’ve been caught.

“You,” you reply honestly. He shifts, running his hand down your waist and over the curve of your ass, not stopping until his hand grips behind your knee and drags your top leg across his hips. Your hips shift against his leg.

You’ve not seen your Mandalorian’s face or body before, but you know the feel of it intimately. The hard planes of muscle in his arms and chest, the softness of his tummy and the thickness of his thighs. The stretch of him inside you, the bite of his teeth and strokes of his tongue under the cover of darkness.

“Is my riduur feeling needy?” His hand urges your movements, your hips now rocking steadily against his thigh. Your moan is breathy and desperate in the small, dark space.

“Not your riduur yet,” you gasp. Din’s warm hand grips your chin, tilting your face upwards. You feel his nose trace along your cheek as his mouth seeks out yours in the dark. His lips are warm as they move against yours in a slow, burning rhythm that matches the slide of your pussy over his thigh.

“The next time you cum, after tonight, you will be,” he groans. Your hips stutter, your release hitting you like a burst of light, sparkling at the corners of your vision. He kisses you deeply. “Sleep now, ner’karta.”

Your heavy eyelids obey his command.

________

Two figures stand at the mouth of a cave as Din lands the Alanar N3 Light Freighter on the surface of Mandalore, a woman with bright red hair and blue armor and a helmeted figure with copper armor and a gold helmet with spikes.

“Welcome,” the redhead says as the two of you approach. “It’s been a long time, Din Djarin. Hopefully you will not need rescuing while you’re here this time.”

“Bo-Katan. Or is it Mand’alor Kryze, now?” Din replies. She smirks.

“Alor Kryze will suffice,” she corrects. Din bows his head in respect before introducing you by name to Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorian, who identifies herself as the Armorer you’ve heard Din speak about at length.

“We have much to show you and discuss,” the Armorer says. She regards you. “Follow me.”

You glance at Din, eyes wide. He gives you a nod, squeezing your hand. Taking a deep breath, you follow the Armorer’s retreating figure as she enters the cave. You meet her at the edge of a cliff that overlooks what appears to be a bustling city.

“Wow,” you mumble.

“It has taken much effort to restore the Mine City to functionality. But it is prospering.”

“How do you get down there?” You ask.

The Armorer chuckles. “We fly. Come closer. We will go together.”

“Oh, uh. Okay.” You step closer and she wraps an arm around your waist, the jetpack on her back igniting as she takes a step over the cliff. You scream, clinging to her shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut.

Your feet hit the ground and you slowly open your eyes. At this level, other Mandalorians bustle about, some with helmets and others without. There are even children running through the streets.

The Armorer releases you once your footing is solid. “Come, we will visit the Living Waters.”

You trail after her again, head swiveling as you take in the city. Some of the Mandalorians look at you curiously as you pass, and you wonder what they must think. From what Din has told you, his Tribe is very secretive. Do they worry you’re a threat? The thought almost makes you laugh.

She leads you deep into the Mine City, down from the street level until you’re standing at the bank of what appears to be a lake, stone steps descending into the dark depths.

“These are the Living Waters of Mandalore,” the Armorer says. “In the days before the Great Purge, the Living Waters saw many ceremonies. Initiations to the Creed, joinings, the adoption of foundlings, the merging of houses. It is the lair of a Mythosaur, a great beast tamed by Mandalore the Great, the first ruler of Mandalore.”

“There’s something down there?” You ask. She tilts her head.

“Allegedly. Mythosaurs have not been seen in many moons,” she replies. “Your joining ceremony will take place on these steps. Has Din spoken to you further about what that will entail?” You shake your head. The Armorer continues.

“It begins with a proposal. A Mandalorian warrior chooses a riduur to whom they will submit themselves, body and soul, for as long as they continue to live. The warrior presents their intended with a blade with which they will perform the hokaanir riduurok.”

“The ceremony consists of three parts,” she continues. “The dinui, or gift, where both parties have selected a weapon to give to their warrior.”

You blink. “He’s going to give me a weapon?”

“Yes. It will be forged specifically for you,” she confirms. “And you will select one for him as well.”

“The second part of the ceremony is the riduurok, or the vows. You will drink spiced wine from the same chalice before reciting the traditional Mandalorian vows.”

This, at least, sounds familiar to you. Vows were common in the few wedding ceremonies you’d seen on Nevarro.

“Finally, the hokaanir. You will take your blade and cut your unifying symbol into his flesh, just above his heart. Then, the covert will host a celebration in your honor.”

“I’m sorry, I have to do what?”

The Armorer tilts her head. “We are a warrior people. Our loyalty is demonstrated with honor and blood,” she offers in explanation. When she’s met with silence, she continues. “I am happy to help you choose a weapon and unity symbol for your ceremony.”

“Thank you, Armorer,” you reply honestly. “For sharing everything with me.”

“This is the Way,” she says, bowing her head. “Do you have any questions?”

Only about a thousand, you think. But there’s one you’ve been wondering about since landing on the planet and being introduced to Bo-Katan, a Mandalorian who showed her face.

“I hope this isn’t insensitive but…you and Din always wear your helmets, right? But Bo-Katan and some of the other Mandalorians…they don’t. Why is that?” You ask carefully.

“The Tribe follows the Creed as described by the Way of the Mandalore. There are other interpretations of the Creed that do not consider the removal of one’s helmet grounds for exile,” she replies. “We are learning to live in harmony.”

“With your Creed…will I ever be able to see Din’s face?”

“As his riduur, he may choose to show his face to you and your future warriors.”

You blink. “Future warriors?”

“Your children. Foundlings or by birth.”

You hadn’t considered children before. Of course, you adore Grogu, Din’s adopted son, but growing your family? Now that the idea is planted, you can’t shake the roots loose.

“Shall we discuss weapons, then?” The Armorer asks, breaking through your racing thoughts.

“Let’s do it.”

________

“You really didn’t tell her anything about the ceremony?” Bo-Katan asks as she walks with Din through the restored Mine City. Din is in awe of the progress that’s been made since the last time he was here. There are a surprising number of Mandalorians now residing in the city, Alor Kryze’s unification efforts clearly working in her favor.

“I haven’t even witnessed one myself,” he says. “In the covert, they only recited the vows. There was no ceremony involved.”

“It’s certainly an experience. And for an aruetii, it may be challenging. We are born and raised as warriors. Blood is nothing to us.” She pauses. “Speaking of raising warriors, where is your son? I miss the little womp rat.”

“He and Karga will join us for the celebration.”

“Din Djarin,” the Armorer calls. He turns just as you collide against him, your arms around his waist. He tips his helmet to your head.

“Pirun’ner,” he says, holding you to his chest. The reunion is short lived.

“We must discuss your joining ceremony,” Armorer says. “Join me at the Great Forge.”

________

The heat from the fire that burns within the Great Forge is stifling and oppressive. Sweat beads on Din’s temple within moments of stepping foot into the cavernous space.

“Your aruetii was rather surprised by our customs,” the Armorer says. Din can feel the judgment in her gaze, even through the helmet. “But receptive. She will do well.”

Din nods. “Thank you for taking the time to explain it to her.”

“She has chosen a weapon and a unity symbol. Have you given thought to her weapon?” The Armorer asks.

“A vambrace,” Din says easily. “A defense weapon. With shields and a comms unit. Nothing she could accidentally hurt herself with.”

“A fitting choice. It is settled. Your ceremony will commence in two days, upon the completion of your weapons. This is the Way,” she says.

“This is the Way.”

________

Bo-Katan helps you dress for the ceremony in a dress made of material so soft and light, you worry it will disappear into thin air. It reminds you of some of the gowns you’ve seen in holovids from Coruscant, white fabric draped over your shoulders, plunging in a deep V down your chest and falling to the ground, secured at the waist with a broad belt of beskar and crystal. When you ask her about it, she looks away.

“It belonged to the last true leader of Mandalore,” she says, not inviting any further questions you may have. “Women would normally wear ceremonial armor as well, but since you are not a Mandalorian, exceptions can be made,” she says.

“Have you seen many weddings, Bo-Katan?” You ask. Din was right when he said you would get along well with the new leader of Mandalore. You’ve been enjoying getting to know her over your last two days on the planet.

“I helped prepare for a few, before the Purge,” she replies. She adjusts the strap of your gown on your shoulder. “But the ceremonies are private. A leader in the community helps to guide the couple through the stages before taking their leave once the hokaanir has been performed.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

Bo-Katan smirks. “The ceremonial wine will have certain…effects on you that you will not want someone to bear witness to.”

“Maker!” You hiss. Your eyes go wide as she laughs. “Are you joking?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” She guides you out of the room and down into the city, where the Mandalorians are prepping for the celebration that takes place after the ceremony. There are flags raised with a familiar Mudhorn skull and others with what Bo-Katan explained was the skull of a Mythosaur, the symbol of the Mandalorians.

Helmeted Mandalorians tip their heads as you pass, while those not wearing helmets hold their fist across their chest. You feel nervous but excited and your heart races with each step closer to the Living Waters.

Bo-Katan leads you down into the depths, the sound of a crackling fire growing louder as you descend. As your eyes adjust to the dim glow of the firelight, you notice two figures standing at the top of the stairs to the Living Waters.

They turn as you approach. Your steps falter as you take in your Mandalorian’s attire.

Rather than the silver beskar and flight suit you’re used to seeing him in, Din now wears a pair of black linen pants belted with beskar tassets that hang to his knees. A black cape hangs down his back to the floor, held in place by impressive spiked pauldrons, a heavy chain sitting at the base of his throat. He still wears his familiar silver helmet.

As he turns to face you fully, your mouth goes dry. He’s shirtless beneath the cape and pauldrons, the tan skin of his chest and abdomen on full display. The firelight illuminates the muscles you’ve traced with your fingers and mouth but never with your eyes.

Perhaps most surprising, however, are the black tattoos that adorn his chest, swirling lines that stretch from his collarbone and down his pectorals until coming to a point right above his belly button. Shiny scar tissue catches the light - a large one on his hip that looks like a blaster shot, thin lines that bisect his tattoos and deeper gashes near his ribs. Your fingers ache to trace them as you commit them to memory.

Bo-Katan gives you a little nudge, urging you forward until you’ve joined Din and the Armorer at the stone steps. She takes her leave with a nod of her head and the Armorer regards you both.

“Shall we begin?” Her modulated voice asks.

“Yes,” Din’s modulated voice replies. His bare hand reaches for yours, fingers wrapping around your palm and easing the wild beat of your heart.

“We will begin with the dinui. You have each chosen a gift that befits your riduur.” She turns, hefting a large ax-like weapon from the low wall behind her. “Din Djarin, your riduur has chosen the munit'kad halberd, the Mandalorian vibro-ax. A weapon worthy of the head of Clan Mudhorn."

Din takes the ax, testing the weight of it in his hands. A twist of his hands activates the sonic blade, the beskar glowing blue. He swings the ax in a wide arc, slicing it through a nearby stone that crumbles to pieces.

Another twist of his palms and the blade goes still. He hands the ax back to the Armorer, who places it back on the wall before picking up a smaller item.

She holds the item to you as she says your name. “Your riduur has chosen a vambrace, fitted with a communications unit and defensive shield projectors.”

The Armorer gestures for your arm, securing the beskar vambrace to your forearm. It looks similar to the ones Din wears, reaching nearly to your elbow. There’s a screen that lights up when you tap it. You press at it again and a circular shield projection emits from the device, startling you and making you laugh.

The Armorer taps at the screen, making the shields disappear. She unclasps the vambrace from your arm, setting it beside the ax. “Din Djarin, do you accept this gift that your riduur has selected?”

“I do,” Din responds.

The Armorer says your name again, dragging your attention from Din. “Do you accept this gift that your riduur has selected?”

“I do,” you repeat.

The Armorer turns and picks up a chalice. “You will now consume the tal’galar, a symbol of the Mandalorian lives lost before your union.” She passes the chalice to Din, turning her head to allow him the privacy to lift the bottom of his helmet. You follow suit, training your eyes to the floor.

He passes the chalice to you. You glance briefly at the dark liquid before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It’s warm, thicker than you expected, but sweet. As you swallow, that warmth intensifies and it feels like it’s already suffusing through your veins, making you feel tingly.

The Armorer takes the chalice from your hands, setting it aside. She picks up the blade that started this whole series of events, the one Din presented you with in your kitchen what feels like ages ago, and your hands start to feel sweaty. You swallow nervously, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“You will now recite the vows,” she tells you. “You will repeat after me.” Din reaches for your hand and the feel of his skin against yours is electrifying, lighting up every nerve ending. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

Din repeats the words in Mando’a, the deep timbre of his voice like silk. You want nothing more than for him to pull you closer, to whisper those words in your ear. This is your husband - this fierce warrior, this gentle man, this loving father. A wave of emotion clogs your throat, making it hard to swallow as you watch him.

“We are one together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors,” the Armorer repeats in Basic. You echo the words back, eyes glued to Din’s helmet. His fingers tighten briefly around yours as you finish the vow.

“Din Djarin of Clan Mudhorn, do you so submit yourself to your intended, until your final battle has been fought?” The Armorer asks.

Din drops heavily to his knees, chest heaving with breath. “I do.”

She turns to you, holding the blade across both palms. You take the weapon in hand and face Din. You feel hot all over, like anything you touch may catch fire in your wake.

“Your riduur has chosen to symbolize your unity with pirun,” the Armorer says. “You may begin the hokaanir.”

________

Every moment in Din Djarin’s life has led to this - kneeling at your feet and staring up into your beautiful face as you ready yourself to unite your souls. A fire burns in his veins and his body aches with the need to touch you, his cock straining in his pants.

The tip of your blade drags across the skin of his chest and his breath catches at the prick of pain. He can feel his skin splitting in its wake, the sharp sting and burn of a new wound quickly morphing into an ecstasy that has him gasping.

The blade lifts from his skin and you begin the second line of the symbol. His hands curl into fists against his thighs, body fighting against the urge to wrap you in his arms and claim.

Din can feel the blood sliding down his chest, little rivulets trailing from the most significant scar he’ll ever receive. When his eyes find yours from behind his visor and he sees his own bottomless lust reflected back at him, his restraint frays further.

You start the third and final line of the symbol, an inverted triangle that represents pirun, water. His water, his life, his everything. He can’t help the moan that breaks free, echoing in the cavern.

He reaches for you, gripping your hips as his head bows forward and he gets his first glimpse of his hokaanir, the cuts you’ve made over his heart with so much focus and care, stark red against the tan of his skin and bisecting his mandokar markings. His heart swells with pride at carrying a piece of you with him forever.

Din distantly registers the blade leaving his skin and the echo of retreating footsteps but all he can focus on is getting his hands on you, rucking up the gauzy fabric of your gown until his fingers are tracing the soft skin of your thighs. You drop to your knees, your own trembling hands sliding up his arms.

“Take it off,” Din commands. “My helmet, take it off, cyare.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, even as your hands grip the heavy beskar.

“I’ve never been more certain.”

________

You slowly lift Din’s helmet, revealing a strong, stubbled jaw, plush lips, a prominent nose, soft brown eyes and curly dark hair. You set his helmet to the side without daring to take your eyes off of him, the sound of beskar hitting stone echoing through the cavern. You bring your trembling hands to his jaw, smoothing your thumbs across the high point of his cheekbones.

“Din,” you whisper. His hands wrap around your wrists, steady where yours are not. “Maker, you’re so beautiful.”

He smiles and it feels like a blaster shot to the heart to finally see it, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth tilts up a little higher on the right. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you forward for a sweet kiss, his lips moving gently with yours.

It doesn’t stay gentle for long.

Din’s lips turn insistent, hungry, bruising in their quest to conquer yours. His teeth nip at your lower lip, making you gasp and he uses it to his advantage, his tongue tangling with yours and exploring to its content.

His hands explore your body, tugging roughly at the straps of your gown until your breasts are exposed to the cold air of the cavern. His lips leave yours, kissing down your jaw and neck, sucking bruises into your sensitive skin.

Your own hands explore his chest, fingers ghosting over the fresh wound of his hokaanir and coming away sticky with blood. He moans against your skin each time your fingers catch on the angry red lines.

“You feel that, cyare?” Din asks. He takes your hand, holding your palm to the mark. “A heart that beats blood only for you?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before he’s moving, his body urging you down onto your back, eager hands rucking up the skirt of your gown up to your waist. He presses your thighs apart, settling on his belly between your legs, his thumbs parting the lips of your pussy for his appreciative gaze.

“I’ll never have you in the dark again,” he says, brown eyes meeting yours. “Not when I know what it’s like to see you in the light.”

With his gaze still holding yours, he licks a broad stripe through your folds. His eyes flutter shut as he groans, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. When they open again, there’s a hard gleam to them that wasn’t there before, a mischievous glint that has your breath catching at the intensity.

“Remember what I told you, cyare? On the ship?” He asks. His thumb circles your clit, broad swipes over the sensitive nub that have you crying out, the sound echoing around you. “That the next time you came would be as my riduur?”

Din slips two fingers into your soaked entrance, curling them against your front wall as he sets a pace that has your hips chasing after his hand with every withdrawal. Every movement of his fingers inside of you feels hotter, stronger than it ever has before. Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s just Din, unmasked and all yours, but you’re already so close to coming from just his fingers and his words and the look in his eyes.

“Want you to cum on my fingers first, want to see it,” he says, and that’s all it takes to have you clenching tightly, tiny supernovas behind your eyelids as you come undone. “That’s it, ner’karta.”

He doesn’t remove his fingers, instead dipping his head and licking at your sensitive clit and making you cry out, already oversensitive.

“Din, Din, Din,” you pant, fingers digging into his curly hair and pulling tightly. He groans against your cunt, working his hand faster as his lips and tongue drive you to a second orgasm before the first has even subsided.

He growls when you nearly knee him in the head with your thrashing, removing his fingers and shoving his arms beneath your thighs, rising to his knees and bringing your body with him. Your upper back rests on the ground as your hips are suspended in his hold, your pussy completely at his mercy as he devours you.

Din’s fingers dig into your ass, grip as strong as the beskar armor he wears as he holds you steady, his tongue working you into a frenzy. The dull spikes on his pauldrons press into your thighs, the discomfort a direct counterpoint to the pleasure he’s lavishing you with.

He sucks on your clit, rolling it between his lips as he hums, the last tether of your control snapping as you fight against his hold, your second orgasm washes over you like warm starlight in your veins.

Din eases you through it, pulling away only when you start to whine. He presses kisses to your thighs and bites at the sensitive skin, sucking marks into your flesh to match the possession you’ve carved into his.

He finally lowers you to the ground, setting you gently to the cold stone. His eyes are hungry as he stands, removing the beskar tassets and tossing them aside before shoving the black linen pants down his legs. He unclips the cape from his neck, laying it on the ground.

He reaches a hand out to you, pulling you to stand when your palm fits against his. His hands cup your face, kissing you fiercely, the fire igniting in your core despite how boneless you feel from the two orgasms he’s drawn out of you.

“Ner’riduur,” Din murmurs against your lips. His hands unlatch the belt at your waist and he sets it aside with more care than he’d given to his own ceremonial items. He slides the fabric off your body until it pools at your feet. “Lie down for me.”

You do as asked, settling on the black cloak. He drops to one knee, then the other, crawling over your body, looking every inch the fierce warrior that he is, black tattoos and scars shifting over well-earned muscle. His cock presses to your hip and he groans, shifting until his length glides between your dripping folds.

“Ni kar'taylir darasuum,” Din says. He takes himself in hand, pressing the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “I love you, pirun’ner.”

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you reply as he presses inside of you, the steady stretch of him making you gasp. You glance at his hokaanir, the skin splitting as he thrusts into your body. Fresh beads of blood form along the lines, dripping from his chest to yours.

Din grunts, hips slamming against yours. You moan and reach up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and seeking his lips with your own. It’s more of a messy press of your mouths than a kiss, the sharing heated breath as his body works against yours.

He dips his head to your neck, sucking more bruises to your skin as he murmurs dirty praise in Mando’a and Basic.

“So fucking warm and wet.”

“Made just for me, weren’t you, ner’karta?”

“Jate riduur’ika.”

You push him up, shoving frantically at his shoulders until you’re able to reverse your positions, him lying beneath you as straddle his waist, his cock never leaving you. He presses so deep inside of you like this it makes you shiver.

“Want you to fill me up, Din,” you say, hands pressed to his chest to give you leverage as you move your hips over his cock. His eyes flutter shut as he moans, the sound making your head feel fuzzy. His hands grip your hips, tight and possessive as his fingers press bruises to your skin. “Please, please, please.”

Din plants his feet against the ground, meeting each movement of your hips with a powerful thrust that makes you see stars. Your muscles tighten once more as you pulse around him with another wave of release that you can feel soaking his hips.

You collapse forward against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pounds into you from below, chasing the release he so deserves. You press little kisses to the skin you can reach as he uses your body to take his pleasure.

With a final harsh thrust he holds your hips tightly to his, his cock pulsing deliciously inside of you as he groans your name in prayer and ecstasy. He works his hips in tiny movements as he empties inside of you.

Din’s movements eventually slow to a stop, both of you panting as you try to catch your breath. You lift up, looking down into his face and smoothing the sweat damp hair from his forehead as he looks up at you with an expression so full of love you want to weep with the force of it.

“Pirun’ner,” he whispers, cupping your cheek. “You‘ve given me the greatest happiness.”

You press a soft kiss to his lips, your smile hard to fight as you do. You hold each other for a long moment as your adrenaline and euphoria settle and Din slips from your body. He gently eases you to the side, urging you to lie on your back.

He stands, grabbing something from the low wall, dipping it in the water and coming back to kneel between your spread legs. His eyes are dark as he looks at your swollen pussy, glistening with your combined release.

Din swipes two fingers through the mess, pressing them slowly inside of you and making you whine. When he appears satisfied, he wipes a wet cloth through your folds, cleaning you up.

He smoothes the cloth through the dried blood on your chest as well, gently wiping it away. When he’s done, he presses a trail of kisses from your belly to your throat before meeting your lips, slow and languid.

“As much as I’d like to keep you beneath me, we have a celebration to attend,” he says. “Let’s get you dressed.”

He helps you into the dress and belt and you help him fasten the cape back around his shoulders when he’s dressed himself in the pants and tassets. Your hands smooth other the black tattoos on his skin.

“You’ll have to tell me about these one day,” you say.

He pulls you close. “Mhi me'dinui an. We share all. I will be glad to teach you more of our customs.”

You grin at him. “We have many days ahead of us, Din Djarin.”

“I like the sound of that, pirun’ner.”

________

When you arrive at the celebration, a loud cheer moves through the crowd, the sound roaring in your ears as you hold tight to Din’s hand.

High Magistrate Karga approaches the two of you, a wiggly Grogu leaping from his hold and running towards Din, who scoops him up from the ground, holding him in his arms. A little green hand reaches for you, wrapping around the finger you offer him.

Bo-Katan and the Armorer stand nearby, watching the new clan of three.

“A successful joining,” the Armorer says.

“Mandalore is healing,” Bo-Katan replies. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.”

Want more Din Djarin? Check out my masterlist

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engie-ivy · 4 months

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@wolfstarmicrofic 8th: Arrow

797 words.

Warning: Injury

James is not going to sit there as Remus wakes up in the Hospital Wing and explain to him why Sirius isn't there. He can't.

Hold On

“No, no, no, no,” James lets himself fall to the ground next to the bundle lying on the muddy forest floor. “Pads? Padfoot, can you hear me?”

There's no response.

James places his arm behind Sirius’ neck and carefully lifts his head. His other hand he places in Sirius’ neck, searching for a pulse, which thank Godric, he finds, but weak, so weak. “Sirius? Sirius!”

Sirius’ eyes open and he seems aware of James’ presence as he tries to say something, but only a pained groan comes out, before his eyes fall shut again.

Panic rises in James’ chest as he scrambles for his wand, muttering what little Healing Spells he knows.

“I heard the younglings talk this morning.” Firenze looks down at James. “How they spotted a dark hound the size of an Erumpent roaming the forest, thinking it to be a dark creature, or even a Grimm, rumored to bring ill tidings. So they fired their arrows at the creature. When I came to investigate this morning, I found him.”

James can barely look at the wound, the gruesome sight of the arrow protruding from Sirius’ stomach. Though the arrow still being lodged in his stomach is probably the only reason Sirius hasn't bled out this night.

Sirius has opened his eyes again and his gaze shifts down, but James quickly places a hand on his cheek. “Just keep looking at me, Siri.” He desperately mutters a few more Healing Spells.

“An injury inflicted by Centaur-forged weapons cannot be healed as if it were a common Muggle arrow,” Firenze says disdainfully.

James looks up at him. “Can you help him?” He begs. “Please?"

“Will you retaliate?” Firenze asks cooly. “Our young ones learn to not harm wizarding children, even the ones foolish enough to wander into our forest, but we couldn't have anticipated one shaped like a Grimm. We know very well how vengeful wizards can be, how little regard you have for beings other than your own. Will your people take their vengeance on our herd, retaliate against our younglings?”

“Retali-” James shakes his head. “No. No, I don't care about blame, or retaliation. I just want him to live.” He looks up at Firenze pleadingly. “I need him to live. Please…”

“Moony…” Sirius manages to say.

“Moony is okay,” James says soothingly, brushing Sirius’ hair from his face. “The full moon has passed. He's in the castle, sleeping.”

“You change your appearance to run with the wolf of the lunar cycle,” Firenze states.

“He's our friend,” James simply says without taking his eyes off Sirius.

“Not many wizards would call a halfling between human and beast a friend,” Firenze muses.

“Well, he is,” James says shortly. If the centaur isn't going to help, he wishes he would be quiet, so James can think of something to save Sirius himself. There has to be something. There has to be.

“We have a Healer skilled in treating these kinds of wounds,” Firenze suddenly says. “I will bring him here. Try to keep him awake in the meantime,” he adds, resting his eyes on Sirius’ form. “I fear that if he slips away now, he won't make it back.”

“Padfoot, stay awake! You must stay with me, do you hear?”

As Firenze disappears between the trees, Sirius’ head slowly slides backwards.

“Hurts,” Sirius mumbles.

“I know, Pads, I know. But you have to hold on just a little longer, okay?”

Sirius’ breathing is getting slower.

“Sirius,” James begs. “Please, don't leave.”

Sirius just looks at him with empty eyes.

“Moony’s going to wake up in the Hospital Wing,” a sob escapes James. “Groggy and sore like he always is, and his eyes will immediately search yours. They always do, you know that. You're always the first person he sees, you're always where he finds comfort. You can't let me sit there, have Remus look at me questioningly, confused, and for me to have to tell him…” James’ voice breaks, and he shakely takes a breath in. “To have to tell him that you're… that you didn't… that I couldn't… You can't do that to me, Sirius!” He balls his fist and clutches Sirius’ robe. “And it happened during the full moon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to stop the words spilling out of him. “He's going to blame himself. He's going to fall apart. He's going to fall apart, and I can't put him back together, not without you, Sirius! I need you there, for Moony. For Moony, okay?”

James meets Sirius’ eyes again, and something has changed. There's a determination there that wasn't there before. As they look at each other, something passes between them.

Sirius is going to stay awake.

He will try.

In the distance, James hears the sound of hooves approaching.

#wolfstar microfic #good friend james potter #protective james potter #hurt sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter

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kakiastro · 2 months

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April 8th Solar Eclipse: A time for healing & moving on

The first big event is upon us friends! I wanted to really break down what this solar eclipse can mean for us collectively. There’s so much fear lingering, misinformation and people just talking crazy about this.

First and foremost, eclipse happens every year so there’s no need to fear it but you should learn to respect its significance and spiritual backgrounds.

The reason this eclipse is getting widespread attention because subconsciously it’s calling us all to heal and step into a brand new chapter. This eclipse is conj Chiron exact and the NN(North Node). I’ll explain, keep reading.

Eclipse has always been symbolic for the endings and ushering a new beginning in your life. The etymology of the word eclipse means “fail to appear” and “to leave” things that no longer is good for us and is exiting out our lives whether we like it or not. Soul growth is at play here.

Solar(Sun) has always been related to leaders. now in our personal lives, it effects a certain part of our life. Depends on the house(area in life) the sign Aries is ruling for you.

Aries is the first zodiac sign, it’s the start of the spring season and always represents the start of new beginnings. Aries also rules over our actions, motivations. Aries rules over Men and masculine dom people. Aries rules the head, aggression, fighting. Leadership is also ruled by this sign.

The solar eclipse will be happening at the 19°(Libra degree)

Now we just had a Lunar Eclipse in Libra so this is just a continuation story.

19° is known as a karmic degree

Now the SN was conj this Lunar eclipse which means we started removing what no longer serves. This will be a theme for all of us for the next 4 years.

Now the Solar eclipse will conj the NN, so we’re in the phase of letting go while also starting new and trying to find ourselves.

Chiron will conj thiss eclipse exact. Chiron is known as the “wounded healer” but it’s also a teacher. We, as a collective is healing our wounds that we may have been holding on for a long time. Purge and release baby! Use this energy to purge and release so you can step into the new you and life!

Now whenever a planet enters a sign, we have to look a the signs planetary ruler to get a better glimpse of the energy.

Aries is ruled by Mars which is currently in Pisces. So this eclipse in a way is spiritual. Pisces is also the last zodiac and represents end of cycles, so this rotates back to Chiron and healing. A lot of subconscious things are being brought to the surface.

This is also a mental eclipse because Mercury is Rx in Aries. We are going to be communicating that hurt out loud. You may have moments of feeling triggered or what the tarot community calls a tower moment. Honey, I’m here to tell yall to let that tower fall and crumble because it’s time to start building that castle you hear me! 🗣️

We are healing mind, body and soul. Will it be easy? Nope! Will it be rewarding in the long run? You bet!

This solar eclipse energy will last for 2 years and including the lunar eclipse which is 4 years so a total of 6 years of this cycle of Aries/Libra storyline will wrote. Both eclipse heaviest energy last for 6month-year.

If you’re wondering how I calculated this, I did it based on how long each eclipse last. Solar is 2 hours and the lunar was 4 hours. Then I just added it together.

The only advice I would give anyone regarding this eclipse is to not look up at the eclipse without some type of solar sunglasses or you could mess up your eyesight. I personally don’t in believe looking at the sun at all during eclipse, but just soak in the energy, meditate, heal, write out your goals. I know some people are curious and there’s free will but I wouldn’t be a good astrologer if I didn’t tell you to please take eye precautions before yall do look up!

Also since this energy will be intense, headaches may happen so get some Tylenol or just a cold towel over your head!

No need to be scared, I know change is hella uncomfortable but it’s necessary! I’m wishing everyone the best with this energy!

#astrology #astrology community #knowledge #love astrology #astro observations #advanced astrology #birth chart #kakiastro #tropical astrology #solar eclipse

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kaleldobrev · 10 months

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We're Endgame

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Summary: Although you’ve been out of the hunting game for years, Dean manages to suck you back in when you are recruited in pretending to date Sam for a case

Original Prompt: Requested by @fuiabarcelos | I was thinking of something inspired by Taylor Swift's "End Game". Years ago, the reader used to hunt with the Winchesters. Sam and she clearly loved each other, he was always super romantic and certainly wanted something more. However, she was afraid of not being able to express her feelings. Years later, they go back to work together and have to pretend to be a couple in a town where all the women seem to pay attention to Sam. She finally manages to express how much she loves him, because she wants "be your end game"

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining

Authors Note: I really hope I was able to give this request justice ♡ | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Sam and Dean were sitting in the Bunker kitchen, each with a cup of coffee and a laptop in front of them. As the two of them sipped on their coffees, it was Sam who was the first one to speak. “I think I might of found us a case.” Sam said, turning his laptop around for Dean to look at the screen. “Five sets of couples have disappeared over the last five months. All on the same day. All from the same town.”

“Werewolf?” Dean asked, raising a brow as he examined the news article.

“That’s what I thought at first too but, not only does the lunar cycle not fit, none of the couples bodies were even found.” Sam explained. “So, that means no autopsy reports to even double check with.” Sam turned his laptop back to re-face him. “From my research, all the couples that have disappeared were last seen on the 25th of each month, which is a little over a week from now. I figure, if we leave now, we may actually be able to stop another couple from disappearing.”

“Is there a pattern for the couples? I’m assuming there’s at least some kind of pattern.” Dean said, taking a giant sip from his mug.

“From what I can tell, all the couples started out as best friends who eventually ended up together.” He explained. “The last five couples have all been a man and a woman.”

“Sounds a little similar to that Vanir case me and Y/N worked while you were off on your little escapade with Meg trying to find dad.” Dean said, Sam simply rolled his eyes. “Speaking of Y/N, do you think she’d be willing to come and help us out? You and her seem to almost fit the profile. Except for the parts where you guys aren’t from that town or together yet.”

“No, we aren’t going to ask her to help us.” Sam closed his laptop, getting up from the kitchen table with his empty mug.

Dean looked at Sam, raising a brow in confusion. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Sam scoffed. “Let’s see, oh yeah, she quit hunting Dean. I’m not dragging her back into something that she was actually able to get out of.” Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam quickly stopped him. “No Dean.” He said before leaving the room.

“Don’t worry brother, I got you.” Dean mumbled to himself as he started to dial your phone number.

It’s been years since you had talked to or seen either of the Winchester boys. It was something that you had told yourself that you needed to do in order to stay out of hunting completely, despite how much it killed you inside not to talk to them. To be far though, the Winchester’s weren’t the only ones that you had cut out, you had cut out all of your hunting contacts. The Winchester’s though, were the contacts that had hurt you the most to cut out; they were like family to you once. So many times over the years you had pictured yourself calling them up, asking them how they were, but you had stopped yourself – you didn’t want to get dragged back in to a life that you were thankful that you made it out of.

You hadn’t seen the boys in almost four years, the last time you had seen or talked to them was when Sam had said yes to Lucifer. The only reason you had known Sam had come back from the pit was because Dean had left you a voicemail. “Sam’s back Y/N…He’s…He’s back…I know you quit hunting but…I just wanted you to know.” The voicemail from Dean was short, sweet, and to the point. Upon hearing it, there was a thousand thoughts running around in your mind, unsure of what to do. You had wanted to call Dean back, asking him where he was so you could come and meet him; so you could see Sam again. But it had been over a year, a year of not hunting, a year of coming to terms that you were never going to see Sam again, a year of regretting not admitting your feelings. As much as it hurt you not to call, you knew that it was for the best.

“I know it’s no secret the way I feel about you Y/N, and I know that you feel the same way about me.” Sam had said to you, one of his hands cupping your cheek. “Before I say yes, I wanted to tell you how…out loud…how I felt about you.” He leaned down, inches away from your lips; you had felt your breath hitch.

“Sam…” You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t, you had found yourself just staring into his eyes the same way he had been staring into yours.

“I love you Y/N.” Sam admitted.

There was a strong part of you that day that had wanted to admit to him how much you deeply loved him, how he was the first person you had let yourself be able to fall in love with. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit to him, even then, when you knew that it would be your only chance to tell him how you had felt.

You were sitting in your living room, watching TV with a hot cup of tea in hand watching some random cooking show. It was a simple pleasure that you had found once you had decided to stop hunting; never really being interested in them before when you were on the road. You felt your phone vibrate next to you, and you felt yourself jump slightly, not expecting a phone call from anyone – especially since it was your day off from work. Looking at the caller ID, you felt your heart skip: Dean Winchester. A name that you thought you would never see again grace your caller ID.

You were hesitant to pick it up at first, afraid of the reason as to why he was calling you. You had hoped that he was just calling to catch up, and not inform you that Sam was dead. You sighed, bracing yourself. “Hey Dean.”

“Hey Y/N. Long time no talk.” Dean said, his voice sounding incredibly joyful. Upon hearing that, you felt your body start to become less tense, as you had hoped that Dean wouldn’t be sounding this happy if Sam were dead.

“Not a hunter remember?” You said. “So…why are you calling?” You heard Dean sigh on the other end. “Dean?”

“I uh…I was calling to ask if you could help me and Sammy out on a case. It’s about an hour away from you and…you and Sammy seem to fit the vic profile.” Dean explained; at least he was upfront about his intentions.

“Dean…” You sighed, trying your best to try and come up with a reason as to why you couldn’t go, since ‘not a hunter anymore’ was something that Dean clearly was not understanding. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” It seemed as though for some reason, Dean wasn’t giving a choice not to say no to hunting with him and Sam.

“Fine. Where do you want me to meet you guys?”

“I can’t believe you dragged Y/N into this.” Sam said, his voice clearly sounding frustrated.

“You’ll thank me later brother.” Dean grinned.

The boys were currently inside of a local diner, Dean had told you to meet them at the diner around 9, and it was currently 8:45. Knowing how punctual you were, he knew that you would be strolling into the diner any minute now. As if almost on cue, the diner bell rang on the entrance door, and Dean couldn’t help but look at Sam, giving him the biggest grin. “Your lover’s here.” Dean joked. Sam turned around quickly to look at you. Despite not being able to see your face, he couldn’t help but feel his heart ready to burst out of his chest. As if you could hear him, you had turned around just then to face him, giving him a small smile. Upon doing this, Sam quickly turned around, re-facing Dean.

Once Sam turned around, Dean saw how your face that once had a smile, turned slightly sad. “I think you hurt her feelings.” Dean said, taking a large bit from his pancakes.

“Great. She hasn’t even been here five minutes and I’m already making her upset.” Sam mumbled.

“Hey boys.” You said, walking up to the table. As soon as he heard your voice, Sam looked up at you; your face turning into a slight smile again. “Can I sit?” You asked, pointing to the seat next to Dean.

“Su-” Dean began to say as he started moving over.

“You can…You can sit here.” Sam said, moving over.

“Thanks.” You said, your voice sounding awkward as you took a spot next to Sam. “So…tell me more about why you boys dragged me into being bait.”

“I’m sorry again. Truly.” Sam said, his words were sincere. Whenever he spoke to you, you always believed every single thing that he had said to you, despite knowing his tells when he was lying. He had grabbed the zipper that was on the bottom of your dress, slowly starting to zip you up. His hand was going a lot slower than you had expected him to go; but you weren’t complaining – the brief contact was enough for you. “I asked Dean not to drag you into this but…you’re the only one that…remotely fits the profile with…me.” His last sentence almost seemed as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“It’s alright.” You hoped your voice had sounded just as sincere as his, but you knew it probably didn’t. As much as you didn’t mind helping out the boys, you were more upset that they had dragged you out of retirement.

Once he finished zipping you up, his hands had found themselves placed on your shoulders as the two of you briefly stared at each other in the mirror. “It’s not.” He stated. “You were able to get out, it’s…it’s not fair to bring you back in.”

You turned around, leaning up against the bathroom counter, his hands moving themselves to either side of your waist on the counter. “Sam…” You began, looking up at him, your hand playing with the bottom of his tie.

“Yeah?” He asked, leaning down a bit.

There was so much that you had wanted to tell him in that moment. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t say it all those years ago.” Was what you had wanted to say. But the only thing that came out was, “I-” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before the bathroom door had opened, revealing Dean who was currently fixing his tie – you and Sam looking at the older Winchester like a deer in headlights.

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?” He smirked.

“Nope,” you said, straightening yourself up; Sam removing his hands from the counter to let you go. “Not at all.” You finished, moving past Dean quickly as you exited the bathroom, leaving Sam there by himself.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to show you around.” The woman said, slightly grabbing at Sam’s tie, almost in a similar fashion as you had done before in the bathroom.

Sam chuckled nervously. “I uh…I don’t think my girlfriend would be uh…particularly happy about that.” He said, making a gesture toward you, his voice nervous. The woman followed his gaze, and they both laid their eyes on you happily laughing away with one of her guests, your hand gently caressing his shoulder. The woman couldn’t tell if the motion you were doing was flirty or not – a part of her was jealous. Sam knew what you were doing, the motion wasn’t remotely romantic, it was just something you naturally did whenever you spoke to people – especially people you had wanted to get information out of.

The woman turned back, no longer looking at you, but more intensely looking at Sam. “She would never need to know.” She winked, her voice sounding more seductive now.

“Listen, Missus –” Sam began to say.

“It’s Miss.” The woman corrected.

“Miss. Clayton –”

In that moment, before he could continue, Sam had seen you walking toward him and the woman with two glasses of champagne in your hands. He had felt such a relief. “I’m so sorry honey. But Mister Baxter over there was just telling me about his classic car collection. Did you know he has over twenty classic cars?” You tried your best to feign interest, as you handed Sam one of the champagne glasses. “Oh!” You said quickly, turning toward the woman. “You must be Missus Clayton.” You held out your hand.

“Miss Clayton.” She corrected, removing her hand from Sam’s tie to shake yours.

“Did you fix my boyfriend’s tie here? It did look a little messy before.” You asked, full well knowing that was not what she was doing. Despite it looking like you had your full attention talking to Mister Baxter, you were also able to have your attention on everything that Sam had been doing. Part of being an effective hunter especially when it came to working with partners, is that you had to make sure that you were keeping an eye out on all of your surroundings.

“Oh yes, yes.” She lied. “I think it looks much better now.” Her voice nervous. “You said Mister Baxter has a classic car collection with over twenty cars?” You nodded. “I think I’m going to go and talk to him about that.”

As soon as she was out of earshot you began speaking to Sam. “You get hit on a lot?” You asked, genuinely curious. “I’ve counted at least four or five women that have hit on you since we talked into the door.” You looked down at your watch. “And we’ve only been here less than an hour.” You took a sip of your champagne. “Makes a girl little jealous.”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sometimes. But, not nearly as often as it’s been here.” He admitted, he too taking a sip from his drink. “I hate to change the subject but, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” You were afraid of what he was about to ask.

“What were you going to say in the bathroom earlier?” You took a large sip of your drink, this was the last thing that you had wanted to talk about right now, especially during a case.

“You clean up nice.” You lied.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, slightly sounding disappointed.

“Fine.” You took a deep breath. “Something I should have said to you years ago.” You started playing with the rim of your glass, no longer making eye contact with Sam.

“What?” He asked, even though he had a pretty good idea about what you were going to say to him.

“I love you Sam.” You finally admitted. There was a part of you that had felt relieved to have finally said it, but yet, there was a knot in your stomach. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it all those years ago. I just…I wanted to but…” You looked down at your glass, your drink half full. “I don’t know I just…Froze.”

“Hey,” he began, tilting your chin up to make you look at him. “You don’t have to apologize.” There was no reason for you to in his mind, despite the way you had felt. When he had told you that he loved you all those years ago, yes, he had wanted you to say it back, but there was another part of him that also didn’t expect you to say it back. For him, just telling you how he felt was enough for him.

“I know you probably don’t feel the same way anymore but…I just needed to tell you.” You weren’t sure if it was already too late to tell him how you felt; it had already been four years.

“My feelings for you never changed.” He admitted, his admission slightly surprised you; as you were expecting him to tell you ‘thank you for telling me, but I no longer feel the same.’

“They haven’t?” You asked, surprised.

He shook his head. He moved his hand now, so it was slightly cupping your face. “No,” he began. “No matter how much time has passed, my feelings for you will never and can never change.”

Your lips were inches away from each other now. You could slightly smell the champagne on his breath. “You mean it?” You asked, making sure that his words were as sincere as they always had been.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“By the way,” the two of you leaned in closer. Although you two weren’t the only ones in the room, in that moment, it was simply just the two of you and no one else. “You and me…” You slightly struggled to get the words out. “We’ve always been endgame in my mind.”

“Mine too.” He agreed, closing the ever so tiny gap now that was between the two of you with a kiss. An action that he had wanted to do for as long as he had known you, an action that you had wanted to do as well.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #sam x you #sam x reader #female reader #reader insert

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Remus Lupin x fem!reader [2K] protective!you, soft!Remus

Honestly, Remus should’ve seen it coming. You were never one to back down from a fight and the whole reason he was missing from class that day was the same grounds for your eventual argument.

Professor Marigold had spent the best part of Care of Magical Creatures explaining moon phases and the effects each stage had on lycanthropes. You had been sitting between James and Sirius, squished in the middle as they doodled on their book margins, not really listening. Because, well, they’d had some first hand experience, hadn’t they? Which is why the professor was so surprised when she called on Sirius and he answered correctly, barely looking up.

You were more on edge than the boys, wishing you’d skipped with Remus, wondering if he would’ve let you hide out in the boys dorm with him, sharing James’ hidden stash of Honeydukes loot everyone knew he kept at the bottom of his trunk. You spent most of the class eyeing your fellow students, Gryffindors and Slytherins divided in rows of three, sometimes four, a neat separation of red and gold, green and silver.

You wondered if someone would say something, you wondered if someone would sneer, if they’d pull a face at the sketching of a werewolf in the textbook, if they’d shudder in fear or say something awful. It was silent as Professor Marigold spoke about the ramifications of being bitten, the changes the host went through each lunar cycle. You hated the word, ‘host’. It sat bitterly at the back of your throat and you changed it to ‘person’ when scribbling down your notes, more messily than you’d usually be.

You felt Sirius watch you, dark gaze lingering on the way you sat up too straight, how your shoulders were tense and unyielding when he brushed against your own. If the boys shared a look over your head, well, you didn’t notice.

Class was almost over, in fact, you were only mere minutes away from the finish line. But then a Slytherin you didn’t know the name of narrowed her eyes and said something you only just heard, a scorned hiss of:

“…the Ministry should do something about them. They’re a danger to everyone. Full moon or not.”

James’ hand found your knee before you could stand, nostrils flaring and heart pounding, but his touch kept you in your seat. You stared at him, wondering how he could remain so calm but he merely shook his head, subtle and soft. Knowing.

“S’not the place,” he whispered, still bent over his own notes. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, sweetheart.”

Then class ended and it was fine until it wasn’t.

The same Slytherin student was lagging behind you as you all made your way back to the castle, morning dew dampening your ankles as you all took a shortcut over the grass. Sirius was singing a song you didn’t know under his breath, James was still trying to stuff his book into his bag and the girl behind you was too fucking loud. You heard the way she gasped and cried out, all horrible dramatics as her and her friend spoke about the recent class subject.

“I mean, really,” she intoned, walking closer and closer. “It’s not like they can live normal lives, can they? They’re practically monsters, I don’t see why they’re allowed to walk around freely like they have the same rights as—”

You spun, wand drawn, clenched tightly in a white knuckled fist that you barely managed to keep lowered by your side.

“Well, that actually took longer than I thought,” Sirius mused quietly, stopping beside you with one arm across your chest, holding you back from making any other unwise decisions. “Settle yourself, darling.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you ignored the boy and spoke to the girl, brows stitched together as you tried to work out if you were going to cry or yell. Maybe both, perhaps at the same time - your chest was burning, a sickly kind of anger lingering in your stomach, rolling over and over until it simmered into a rage. The girl hadn’t said Remus’ name, but she might as well have. “You sound so— so ignorant! Have you ever met someone who has to go through something like that? Don’t you understand they’re just like us?”

The girl, Tabitha, maybe, you still weren’t really sure, blanched, staring at you as if you’d dropped from the sky. “What on Earth do you mean?” She laughed and it was a nasty sound, scathing and condescending. “Like us? Are you joking? They’re wild animals, they should be hunted down as such.”

James snatched your wand before you could lift it, red and orange sparks flying into the grass instead of the air and you scowled at him. He grimaced, hardly apologetic but Sirius soon stood between you both, eyes surprisingly soft.

“Let’s go,” he told you, a gentle command, his hands on your shoulders. “She’s not worth it. Moony’s waiting, c’mon.”

That should’ve been it. The idea of Remus waiting for the three of you at the library should’ve been enough to make your legs work again and pull you away. But the girl was still laughing, an ugly noise, one that made your jaw tick. Sirius tugged at you, hands dropping to curl around an elbow and you took a step, just one.

“Honestly, if I ever found out I’d shared the same air as one of those creatures, I’d have daddy on the phone to Dumbledore. One curse to the head is all it should ta—”

You ripped yourself from Sirius’ arms quicker than he could grab you, ready to throw your first into the girl’s face - her nose, if you could get your aim right. You watched as she paled, her footsteps fumbling as she backed away faster than you could catch up, all whilst your friends yelled your name from behind you.

And then, an arm, needling around your waist to haul you up and backwards against a very solid chest. You squirmed, face scrunched in anger, cheeks aflame.

“Hey, at ease solider, c’mon now.”

Remus.

You deflated, breathe leaving you in a sigh, knowing that there wasn’t much point in trying to wrestle your way out of his grip. Your feet were dangling a good eight inches off the ground and Remus dropped his mouth to your ear, his voice soft.

“Leave it, yeah?”

You nodded, barely perceptible but Remus saw. You saw Sirius take a step towards the girl, eyes narrowed. He looked roguish and dangerous as always, and when he stepped forward once more, this time uttering a soft “boo,” the two girls took off without another word.

Your wand was given back to you once they were deemed out of sight, your feet firmly back on the ground but Remus kept hand at your lower back, fingers lingering in your sweater, a reminder that he was close.

“What was your plan, huh?” James’ asked, still wide eyed and surprised that you’d reacted in such a way. “Knock her out with just your fists?”

You rolled your eyes and started back to the castle, embarrassed at being seen having such a response to what was no more than some uneducated - albeit cruel - words. “Yeah, and what about it?” You sounded sullen, a little moody. “I can throw a punch as well as I can cast a hex, Potter.”

Sirius puffed out his chest, smirking. “I taught her.”

James scoffed, muttering something that sounded like, “was that really necessary?”

“What? D’you think she’ll always have her wand on her? What if she doesn’t, what then—”

Remus’ hand, warm and large, caught your own, keeping you from following the other boys and their conversation. He was frowning a little, brows knitted despite the way he was pressing his lips together, as if to hide a smile. He ducked his chin to meet your gaze, too tall otherwise, fingers twisting between your own.

“What was that all about?” He murmured and his voice was low, pretty and raspy. “Huh?”

You sniffed, emotions catching up to you as the adrenaline faded and you toed at the grass, Mary Janes digging into the wet weeds. You tried to look away, somewhat embarrassed but Remus caught your chin with nimble fingers, scarred and calloused and entirely too lovely. His thumb tapped the space just below your mouth and he waited, quiet and patient.

You shrugged. “That girl.” You nodded to the Slytherins retreating figure, glaring when she stared back at you from the safety of the castle steps. “Tabitha? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. She was talking about—” you almost said ‘you,’ but that wasn’t true. She hadn’t spoken about Remus at all. How could she? She didn’t know.

Remus waited, brows raised, his hand still on your jaw to keep your gaze on him. His touch was soft, more gentle than it needed to be and it made any explanation you wanted to give him a little harder to piece together.

“Professor Marigold spoke about lunar cycles today,” you swallowed and Remus nodded. He knew this, of course he did. It’s why he spent that hour in his dorm, pretending to be sick. “That girl. Whatever her name is, she started going on about how, how werewolves shouldn’t be allowed to have the same rights as Witches and Wizards, how they should all be—”

You stared at the boy, lips pressed together, deciding you didn’t want to explain anymore. The bitter feeling in your stomach was still bubbling, acidic and awful, but Remus dropped his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you into him and it settled, if only slightly.

He was too tall, his half hug had you face first into his chest, his school sweater smelling like laundry detergent and a little smoke, something sage and citrus that was seemingly just Remus. You clung to him, hands fisting in the familiar grey wool, your lip wobbling against the fabric because it was all suddenly a little too much. Remus rested his chin atop your head, his nose pushed into your hair when he felt your shoulders shake.

“Hey, hey, c’mon,” Remus whispered, wrapping his arm around you a little tighter, hand travelling upupup until he could pull you closer still by your shoulders. “S’fine, really. I’m used to hearing shit like that.”

His reasoning only made your chest feel tighter and your breath shuddered. “That’s worse, Remus!” You intoned, speaking into his chest. “She was saying vile things, absolutely awful stuff and it’s just not—”

“Fair?” The boy mused, his lips brushing over your hairline. You wondered if Sirius and James had stopped to wait for you both, you wondered if they could see, if they were watching. You found you didn’t care. “The world isn’t fair, love, m’sorry to break it to you. But I’ll survive, no matter what Tabitha Rosethorne says.”

You leaned back, just enough to rest your chin on the boy’s chest, pouting as you gazed up at him, glassy eyed. Remus prodded at your cheek, brushing away one lone tear that had managed to escape out of anger. “She’s a dick,” you mumbled woefully.

Remus snorted, nodding. He wasn’t used to you using such language, only giving him and the others in trouble for it. “She is a dick, you’re right,” he agreed. “But she’s not worth getting detention for. Were you really going to punch her?”

“I was going to try,” you enthused, flushing at the idea of starting an actual fight, completely wandless. “Sirius told me to keep my thumb on the outside of my fist.”

“Of course he did,” Remus mused, sounding unimpressed. “You shouldn’t be starting fights, you know, you’re too lovely for that. Especially on my behalf.”

Normally you would’ve preened at Remus’ sweet words, his soft compliments, but you were scowling, a full pout on your lips as you shook your head. Remus looked amused, knowing that expression all too well.

Stubborn.

“I’ll start fights, only for you,” you corrected him, not leaving much room for argument. “And Sirius will back me up. And more than likely, James too. Once he stops arguing.”

The boy laughed, a bright, sharp sound that had your frown fading quickly. You grinned up at him, smile growing wider when he squeezed at your shoulder and let his nose nudge against your warm cheek.

“You’re not wrong,” he murmured. Remus kept you tucked under his arm as he lead you back up the grassy knoll, towards James and Sirius who were pretending they hadn’t been watching you both the entire time. “C’mon, hotshot, the library awaits.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin drabble #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #marauder's era #marauders x you

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pxnsneverland · 1 month

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Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 3)

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2323

warnings/notes: violence, blood, mentions of murder

Chapter 3: The Awakening

The ride back to Austin's place was a blur, the late-night landscape passing by in a haze. Bonnie clung to him. The moonlight streamed down in intermittent flashes, the leafy canopy above doing its best to shield them from celestial view. Austin drove with a practiced ease, his body automatically navigating the familiar turns and dips of woodland roads, but his mind was elsewhere. The only sound was the masterful growl of the motorcycle engine and the occasional rustling leaves in the wind. His heart thundered a rhythm that echoed Bonnie’s own - one of fear, hope and uncertainty.

Bonnie held onto him tighter, her eyes closing as she tried to block out the reality of their situation. She rested her head against his broad back, his unique scent - a mix of dirt, gasoline and something distinctly Austin - permeating her senses. It was comforting, familiar and it grounded her in the moment. They finally arrived at his cabin tucked away in the woods, a solitary beacon of light amidst the indigo canvas of the night. He cut the engine, and for a moment, everything was silent.

"Are you okay?" Austin asked, as he helped her off the bike. Bonnie nodded, her face pale in the moonlight. She did not trust her voice enough to answer verbally.

Once inside, Austin began to explain. "Our transformation isn't... easy," he said truthfully, his eyes haunted. "But it's part of us, and fighting it only makes it worse."

"But I don't want this." Bonnie's voice was soft, defeated. "I left this world behind."

Austin's countenance softened. It pained him to see Bonnie torn between two worlds - one she longed to forget and another she wished she could return to - both impossible desires.

"And yet you're here now," he reminded her. "You can't deny what you are. No more than I can."

His statement hung heavy in the silence that followed. Bonnie turned towards him, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place - fear or determination, he wasn’t sure.

"But I can try," she answered, her voice resolute. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

Austin sighed, running a hand through his hair. He understood her trepidation. He had lived with this curse - this gift - long enough to know the struggles it presented, the choices it forced one to make.

"We never choose who we hurt, Bonnie," he said softly, looking deeply into her eyes. "But we can decide who we protect."

Bonnie was silent for a moment before slowly reaching for his hands. His breath hitched as their fingers intertwined, warmth spreading through him like wildfire. Their connection was electric, familiar yet completely new.

"Austin..." Bonnie's voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed loudly in the quiet of the room.

"Let me protect you," Austin said firmly, cupping her face in his powerful hands. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked at her wonderingly, as if seeing her for the first time.

Bonnie's breath hitched at his words and for a moment, she just stared at him, her gaze searching his. Her uncertainty was evident, but there was something else too: a softness, a yearning that promised to tip the scale. "Okay," she finally whispered, her pulse quickening under Austin's gentle touch.

Relief swept over Austin and he pulled her into an embrace, burying his face in her hair. His heart pounded loudly in his ears and for the first time in years, he felt something akin to happiness. Their bodies fitted together perfectly as if they were two pieces of a puzzle that had been lost for far too long. Is this how it felt to be in the presence of your mate? He never wanted to let her go again.

"Bonnie," Austin said softly, a serene peace washing over him. He pulled away slightly so that he could look at her, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Why don't you go take a shower? It’s been a long night for you."

Bonnie nodded, disentangling herself from his arms reluctantly. She gave him one last lingering look before making her way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of silence in her wake.

Once she was out of sight, Austin expelled the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. His heart pounded against his chest - an erratic rhythm that mirrored the whirlwind of emotions he felt. An overwhelming urge to protect Bonnie had taken hold of him, and he knew he would face any danger head-on for her safety. He needed to get a hold of himself. There would be time for emotions later—for now, he had to focus on ensuring Bonnie’s safety. Austin turned his attention to the cabin. He took a moment to secure the place, double-checking the locks on all windows and doors. His senses were on high alert, the primeval wolf in him pacing restlessly, ready to defend its territory and protect its mate.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the soft sound of the bathroom door opening or the quiet padding of bare feet on the old wooden floor until Bonnie was standing right in front of him. The sight of her stopped him in his tracks. Wrapped in a large fluffy towel that barely reached her mid-thighs, with her hair damp and carelessly falling around her shoulders, she looked ethereal under the soft glow of the lamps.

"Is everything okay?" Bonnie asked softly, breaking his reverie.

"Yeah," Austin managed to croak out, tearing his gaze away from her. "Everything's fine."

The phrase was a blatant lie, and he knew it. He could barely focus on anything, but the arousal arising inside him. As Austin looked away from Bonnie, his breath hitched at the sight of her. She had changed into a loose, cozy nightgown that came down to her knees, revealing long, toned legs and the gentle curve of her stomach. He could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, like a beacon guiding him towards her. His wolf wanted nothing more than to claim her right there and then, to mark her as his own. But he knew better than that. Bonnie deserved patience. One wrong move could send her running away, especially given the fragile state she was in. Austin had to tread this path carefully, cautiously.

"Austin?" Bonnie's voice pulled him from his thoughts, its softness like a warm embrace.

"I'm alright," he said again, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. His gaze roamed her face, lingering on the worry etched in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" she asked, skepticism etching her brows together in a delicate frown.

He chuckled at her persistent concern. "Yes, Bonnie, I promise."

He watched as she sighed, pressing a hand gently to her temple, a gesture he remembered from their past. With a start, he realized how weary she looked, the circles under her eyes mirroring the same exhaustion etched into her delicate features.

“Hey,” he said gently, touching her arm lightly making Bonnie look up at him, “come with me.” Gently guiding her by the small of her back, he led Bonnie towards his bedroom. It was simple and unpretentious; a reflection of Austin himself. The king-sized bed sat invitingly against one wall, flanked by two rustic bedside tables. One wall was adorned with various photos and memorabilia from his biker life, creating an interesting contrast with the otherwise bare walls.

“This is my room,” Austin began hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare show of nervousness, “You can sleep here tonight.”

Bonnie blinked at him in surprise, her mouth parting into a tiny ‘o’. Seeing the confusion on her face, Austin quickly clarified.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” His wolf howled in protest inside him, wanting nothing more than to share that bed with her—to hold her close and keep her safe in his arms.

Bonnie’s gaze wandered about as she took in everything around her. The room was neat, everything meticulously placed and not a speck of dust in sight. It screamed 'Austin' - practical, rugged, and distinctly masculine. She glanced at the bed, then back to Austin, her expressive eyes wide with uncertainty, worry... and something else he couldn't quite place.

"I..." she began hesitantly, biting her lower lip nervously, "I'd rather you...," she trailed off.

Austin tilted his head to one side, an eyebrow arched in question. "Yeah?" he coaxed gently.

Her voice was so soft when she finally found the words that he almost missed them. "I'd rather you sleep…with me."

His heart thundered against his chest at her confession and a surge of warmth spread through him despite the chill outside. His wolf preened, satisfied at the prospect of being closer to their mate.

"All right," Austin replied simply. He would honor her request but he intended to keep his distance in the bed as much as possible. He didn't trust himself entirely around her right now and he didn't want to inflict any unwelcome advances on Bonnie when she was so vulnerable.

"Are you sure?" There was a note of worry in his voice that betrayed his composure.

Bonnie nodded, her face a shade of pink that Austin had never seen before. He could tell she was nervous, but also determined. "Yes," she said. She hesitated for a moment then added, "I think I'll feel safer...if you're there."

Those words caused an immense feeling of protectiveness to surge within Austin. He felt his wolf stirring inside him, pleased with the notion that their mate felt safe in their presence. He offered a small smile and extended his hand towards her, which she took after a moment's hesitation.

Austin led her to the bed, pulling back the thick comforter for her to climb under. Once she was settled in, he got on the other side of the bed, keeping a respectful distance between them. It took every ounce of his control not to pull Bonnie close to him and envelope her in his warmth. Sensing his struggle, his wolf growled lowly within him. As Austin lay there in the dimly lit room, the silence between them seemed almost deafening. Bonnie shifted slightly under the covers, her breaths coming out in small, nervous puffs. Austin could feel the tension radiating from her, and it mirrored his own internal battle. He turned to look at her, his gaze meeting hers in the shadows. The vulnerability in her eyes tugged at something deep within him, a primal urge to protect and cherish this woman who had walked back into his life so unexpectedly.

Without a word, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle yet tinged with longing. Bonnie's eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, a small sigh escaping her lips. In that moment, all pretenses and barriers melted away between them. Austin's resolve crumbled as he allowed himself to give in to the undeniable connection that hummed between them. He moved closer, closing the gap between their bodies until they were inches apart.

Their breaths mingled in the space between them, warm and intimate. As Austin finally wrapped his arms around Bonnie, pulling her close to him in a protective embrace, he felt her relax against him, her heartbeat syncing with his own. And in the quiet of the night, surrounded by nothing but trust and understanding, they drifted off to sleep together, finding peace in each other's presence.

A few hours into their slumber, Bonnie began to thrash restlessly beside him. Her face was scrunched up, beads of sweat trickling down her forehead as soft whimpers escaped her lips. Austin woke instantly; his werewolf instincts kicking in at the first sign of distress. "Bonnie," he called softly, his voice groggy with sleep. He turned on his side, placing a comforting hand on her arm. Her body was rigid, her breathing shallow and fast.

She was in the throes of a nightmare. Austin's heart clenched at the sight of her struggling with unseen demons. It was then that he heard it – a quiet murmur slipping out from Bonnie's lips, "Liam… no…"

The name sparked a surge of fury inside Austin. His wolf growled deep within him, hating the thought of anyone causing their mate pain.

"Shh… you're safe, Bonnie." Austin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he gently stroked her back. He could feel his fur bristle under his skin, fighting the urge to shift and protect. "He can't hurt you anymore."

Sleep proved elusive as Bonnie's ragged breaths echoed in the silence. Each whimper, each plea to her tormentor conjured bitter memories in Austin's mind. Heaving a weighted sigh, he pulled Bonnie even closer to him. His arms tightened around her trembling figure. His nose was buried in the softness of her hair, taking solace in her familiar scent that mixed with the musky aroma of the forest. It reminded him of their shared past, further fueling his overwhelming need to protect her.

“Bonnie.” He whispered once more into the silence, his voice tender and pleading. The mere sound of her name on his lips seemed to soothe his agitated wolf. “You’re not there anymore, baby. You’re safe here...with me.”

As if sensing Austin's determination to keep her safe, Bonnie’s sleep-tossed body slowly relaxed against him. Her breaths became more even as the nightmare lost its grip over her subconsciousness. Feeling her finally settle against his chest, Austin let out a silent sigh of relief. His hand kept an even rhythm on her back, the comforting gesture lulling them both back towards sleep. His eyes remained open, mind alert for any sign of distress from Bonnie. His wolf was restless inside him, pacing and growling in response to the scent of Bonnie’s fear that lingered in the air. Austin allowed the low purr of his wolf to rumble through his chest, a calming lullaby for the woman in his arms.

Stay tuned for part 4!! Click HERE to view!

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