#Hunter's hands are so tiny for some reason oops | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tomsrebeleyebrow · 5 years ago

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attraction | hs vampire au

moodboard made by me so don’t use pls

Pairing: Vampire!Harry x NewbornVampire!Reader

Warnings: major mention of blood, basically a slow burn with sexual tension/teasing, SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up before ya tap it), kids), voyeurism, oral (f receiving) and so much more, fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 10.9k (oops)

A/N: well... hi again? i guess?? 🙃 back from the dead agaaaain 🙌🏻 okay but i had a major writer block since my last one shot and oof, was it tough... but now i’m back! more relax and feeling inspired for halloween? so hope you will enjoy this special oneshot about one of my fav brit boys ❤️💞

masterlist | tag list

Somewhere near London, UK – year unknown.

Tonight was probably the worst one you ever experienced in your life – well, afterlife –, aside from being turned into a monstrous blood creature against your will just a few months ago. Despite your new inhuman abilities, the mob running and screaming after you still gains ground since you’re leaving a most vivid trail for them to follow.

Though your heart no longer has a normal pulse it feels as if each thump is excruciating pain. The obvious reason might be because you haven't been able to feed yourself properly since you've been... reborn. And so very little human blood was running through your veins because you couldn’t seem to control the hypnosis power. That’s why you’ve been sticking to animal blood but if you were honest, it didn’t give your body the same strength.

Now your body starts to grow heavier by the minute, along with a most painful throb to your fangs that threatens to turn you into a mindless monster that will slaughter aimlessly just to get fed. But that's not what you want. No. No. It may have been four or maybe five months since you could no longer be considered as normal, but still you thought of yourself as a human. And hurting any human was just not conceivable at all for you. You just couldn’t... But sometimes, even the biggest will in the world wasn’t enough anymore.

I feel so sick, I can't go on much longer...

If only these damn hunters knew I wasn't going to kill anyone...

All I wanted was some of her blood because she was alone... just a little bit...

Tears form in the corner of your eyes, feeling like a lost and hopeless child despite being in your twenties. Though you suppose you won’t age anymore now? Or maybe age in such a slow manor you will not be able to see the changes until dozens of years pass. You have no idea at all. The person whom turned you didn't even care to explain a damn thing and just left saying it would be “quite amusing to watch you struggle”.

Your fangs grit in anger just by remembering all this, remembering how and why you could have been so naive – stupid being the right word actually. Willing the tears away you jump into the nearest centenary oak on the side and climb as high as you possibly can. The leaves and branches obscure most of your body, making it easier to hide yourself as you wait in breathless silence for several long minutes. The humans bellow carry guns and crossbows, even torches with blistering fires waving in the cool British wind so hiding from them is definitely the best solution here.

They seem confuse at losing sight of you and your tracks, but the conversation you pick up with your improved hearing foretells how they believe you're still in the area. A tall man with a buff body and dirty blond hair seems the most knowledgeable and well prepared as he dictates how everyone should fan out to cover more space.

Sweat is now dripping all over your body in a way that lets you know your consciousness is going to fade if you don't feed yourself soon. So you use the little strength you have left to escape their sight, silently crawling from a branch to another to reach the next tree. Your senses are becoming dull as well and you know by now you’ll never be able to put up much of a fight if they spot you.

Since there is no one around right now, you decide it may be the best opportunity to climb down and try to get further away into the forest. However, you barely make it to the ground, crunching some leaves beneath your feet before a bullet was fired directly at you. With the quickest slam of your body to the ground, you avoid being hit. For the moment, at least.

“Don't let her get away!”

“Shoot her down! She's weak now!”

Your head shakes, body shivering in a sense of mixed cold and fear, hearing dozens of weapons getting loaded before bullets and arrows start whizzing your way, thanks the lords most of them missing you due to your astute senses. Like blondie said, you are now really weak and can’t help but fail to avoid all of them as one wooden arrow pierces through your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the floor with a screech of pain.

It hurts more than you expected it to, but you grit your teeth and yank it from your skin in one motion. The wound may not be that deep but you can feel blood oozing down your back, staining the fabric of your long dress. After forcing yourself to stand you try to keep running, but after a few steps your body succumbs to your fatigue and falls, noticing the humans have now formed a pretty wide circle around you to cut off every single path possible to escape.

If you weren't this weak and starving for blood, you could fight them off and get away but at this moment, that’s completely impossible. A man with long black hair approaches, extending his hand forward as he’s holding out a wooden cross. The closer he gets the more a headache pounds inside your head, causing you to hiss in agony, tears swelling in your eyes and claws scratching the muddy ground.

Is this the end?

I never got to really live...

I never got to properly love... Love in a way that was true and fulfilling.

A tear slides down your cheek but it's too late. Everyone readies their crossbows and guns to fire at the behest of the long raven haired man. Both of your eyes immediately clench shut, preparing for your upcoming death...

But it never came.

Suddenly, screams and several wet crunches invade your ears while your eyelids slide open the moment you feel an imposing shadow looming over your body. A broad but not too bulky back comes into view as you note a peculiar style of clothing, the vivid red suit they wear contrasting with the dark surrounding of the London outskirt. However the smell of fresh blood rushes through your nostrils, causing your eyes to pulsate and your fangs to throb hungrily.

“How dare you filthy humans attack one of my kind.”

A deep unfamiliar voice penetrates your skull, making you lift your head and discover a tall man with dark wavy hair. He slightly turns towards you, sending you a stoic yet piercing type of glare with intense scarlet pupils that causes goosebumps to bubble all over your body. You have no idea who he is but you can feel in your guts that not only he is indeed a vampire as well but that he's extremely powerful, as demonstrated from the way he dismembers two humans with the vicious dart forward and jerk of his hands. The corpses join the other four on the floor who you discover have their heads decapitated in a clean swipe, no jagged edging to the flesh around their torsos.

The imagery is whiteout a doubt disgusting to even look at, but it's even more appalling that all you can think about is how delicious all this river of bloody disaster smells and how exquisite it would be sliding down you throat. You start to salivate heavily with the madness of hunger, the extreme sensation almost completely overwhelming you but you try your best to hold yourself at bay.

“I didn't expect to see ya again thi' soon, Harry...” your blonde pursuer sighs, his facial expression clearly showing that now, tables have turned.

“I don't want to hear it" interrupts your saviour (at least you hope he is?), his intimidating hoarse voice bringing chills to everyone – you included – while still in front of you. “Leave right now, Niall or I won’t hesitate to rip off y’head too.”

The man named Harry flares all ten of his claws to life, also baring his fangs to definitely reveal that nothing of this was just for show. “'m sick of you killing my people. If they're slaughtering the humans, it would be different but this one–” He turns pointing his finger at you, “this girl hasn't killed anyone. I can smell it... You're chasin' her down for no reason.”

“T-That's not– she was attacking someone, dat's why she got caught–”

"If you speak one more word to me that isn't beggin' for your life followed by leaving, I'll rip all of your limbs before I even go for y’head.”

Harry and Niall stare each other down, the tension as shape as a knife. The human may know how to counter his vampire foe but in all likelihood with most of their numbers dead or bleeding to death, he's aware that right now he has not a single chance. And once again, cohabitation seems the only way to get out of here in one piece (hopefully).

“Fine... we'll be goin'. I know thi’ is yar territory mate, we crossed da border” Niall apologises, a hand over his chest and a small bow before telling his fellow hunters to retreat back to the city.

Though Harry isn't usually happy about letting humans go his posture is finally relaxing a bit, claws retracting as he death glares everyone down until they are no longer insight.

With a long and heaved sigh he fully turns around, finding you holding your head and gritting your fangs in disarray. It's quite clear you are probably not even aware of your surroundings, the blood shot vessels in your eyes telling the brunette your current state of hungriness. As soon as he's by your side in a blink of an eye, he bends down on his knees in front of you, pushing your own hands away so he can clutch your cheeks.

“Calm down, dear, relax your mind. Open your mouth and let me see your fangs, please.”

Though you whimper in uncertainty, that man in front of you is after all the vampire that slaughtered those humans to save you. So you still let him give a look at your small white fangs, your whole jawbone hurting as if you just got punched right in the face.

“I see they haven't grown completely... You must’ve been turned recently, am I right?”

Harry seems slightly angry, though you're not entirely sure it's directed at you but more at his findings. When he pulls back, you follow his body as he grabs a nearby severed arm and brings it back to you. His brows raise in surprise, not expecting this reaction when you whine and push it away, clearly disgusted by it.

“There’s no time to be picky anymore, darling. Y'need to stop thinkin' you're still human, so drink the blood.”

Your head slowly raises, panting as you stare right into his most mesmerising green eyes, some scarlet red from before still outlining his pupils, with your own sorrow filled orbs. Though Harry knows what that look represents, he could hold no sympathy for your lost humanity as he delicately brushes his hand through your hair before pushing the flesh into your mouth for your own good.

It only takes a second for your fight to disappear, the taste of blood that your veins and taste buds have longed for these last weeks finally flowing in your system. Like a wild beast your fangs sink deeper into the arms flesh, sucking and gulping greedily until it's nothing but a shrivelled and discolored severed limb.

The older vampire watches your irises glow with the brightness of your eye colour. In like a snap the strained vessels inside your sclera dissipate bits by bits, assuring that the wound on your back would heal after some minutes as well. Harry expected it when you flicker with your new found strength over to one of the corpses and starts bleeding it dry.

He stands here, crossing his arms over his classy red velvet suit while watching over you. Once he judges you had enough and didn't want you to become addicted in a way that would drive you insane, he carefully but still kind of strongly grab your wrist. You let a little hiss at him, defiantly, which makes him smirk in a way that lets admire his now noticeable dimples and handsome features. Within a few seconds you calm down but Harry is now holding both of your wrists in his grip

“Stay still, dear” was his command, simple yet strict so it feels like you have no choice but to obey.

After letting go of both of your hands once you calmed down, Harry cups your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently turning your head back and forth. You are not sure what the brunette is doing until he finds feint punctures on the side pale skin of you neck. The wound itself seems healed but you still have little small bruises.

“How long ago were you turned and who was it? Why are they not here watchin' over you?”

His array of questions makes you frown, wiggling free of his grasp just so you can huddle your hands around your trembling sorrow body, memories getting their way back into your brain. Memories you consider more as nightmares that keeps hunting you like a damn curse, only to remind you at each breath you take that nothing will be like it was before.

“He was... s-someone I cared about. We'd been seeing each other for a while, and then one day... H-he bit me... a-and forced his blood down my throat.” Telling the story doesn’t really make you feel any better, specially when you let Harry know that the man you trusted only wanted to watch you suffer for his own pleasure.

Seeing a newborn vampire like yourself, looking as lost and fragile as a deer into the wildness, really gets to him. Harry lived for countless centuries he forgot the exact number, but he definitely knows since day one that turning people was against the rules for the most part. At least turning someone and not helping them come into their new desires, powers and hunger. Honestly he is quite impressed you lasted so long on your own when he heard you say it has been nearly five months.

“Come this way, darlin'. The air reeks of human filth out her’.”

With a sudden but graceful turn the vampire starts walking away and finds it amusing how you scamper behind him like a lost puppy. Even your hand grabs the back of his velvety suit, like you dread the feeling of being alone. His comparison to you as newborn is not to be mean or even condescending. You are just so new to your turning that it is perfectly plausible to be scared and anxious about literally anything in your surrounding.

Harry doesn’t mind at all and pretty soon, you both are stepping deeper into the forest your attack happened for a good twenty minutes if not more. Then in front of you slowly appears what looks like a field, a large meadow embraced by the night and in its middle a quint little cottage. It looks nice and homey, but not what you first expected from a fearful creature like him.

“It's not a castle...”

The older vampire sneers at your remark and then turns to you, showing a surprisingly charming grin before pointing to the east. “My real home's far away from here, that's where the castle of y’stories will be. It's vast an' much larger than y'could possibly think, but I don't really fancy it.”

Your eyes blink curiously at him before gasping and pointing your finger in disbelief, a sudden realisation sticking your mind.

“O-Oh my god– are you from r-ro-royalty?!”

“You could say that” the brunette grins while pushing some curly locks back from his forehead. “Lord Harold Edward Styles, is what they call me. Harry for short.”

He merely cackles when your eyes start to swirl in confusion, before babbling nonstop that you didn't know and hope in the same breath with fearful eyes that he won’t kill you. Harry can’t help but frown at this, letting out a sigh.

“Come 'ere and tell me your name, dear. I have no reason to kill ya.”

For some reason, the peaceful and serious expression on his face feel trustworthy, offering his hand like a safety net he knows you need to feel secure. So after a small nibble of your bottom lip, you slowly place your petite hand in his and let him pull you inside his home.

“My name is (Y/N)... Thank you for saving me, my Lord.”

It honestly feels awkward to refer to him like that but maybe was it his rightful term? Being now a vampire yourself, you assume your “rank” is probably way lower than his so “serving” him seems... obvious, right? Yet anything that was happening since you began this new life was a matter of pure confusion to you, even more now since your new encounter with this vampire from royalty.

“You wanted to know who turned me... well, his name was Nick. I don't know if he's still around here, I'm sorry–”

“Just call me Harry, darlin’. I don't care at all for useless formalities unless y’break the rules or try to attack me.”

You viciously nod your head. Never would you do that, you still feel incredibly grateful and intimated by just being in his presence.

“The name sounds familiar as well. A fugitive whose turns 'umans against their will for dozens of years...” Harry mutters to himself, looking pissed that the enforcers in charge of catching people like that still haven't.

And so over the next few days, you learned about your new species in details and got a low down on all the rules you must do your best to follow at all costs. Harry even began to teach you about your abilities and how to tame your appetite for blood, though he commented once again that you were handling yourself well from the beginning.

Harry is for sure a mysterious man and doesn’t honestly act like someone whom is probably rightful King to the vampire’s world. It’s pretty clear he lived a long life while yours had just started. He appears to you as a ray of hopeful guidance in a world that becomes murky and malleable.

“(Y/N), dear, come 'ere.”

At his beckoning call, you place down the book you're reading and come to sit down next to him on the couch. At this point you've been staying with him in the cottage for a few months and knew what to expect when his hands approach your visage to cup your cheeks. Though it’s still a little embarrassing, but still you part your lips and let him examine your fangs like he has many times before ever since you met.

“They're just 'bout fully grown, since you've been fed regularly.”

Your head nod as his hands delicately slide away. It looks like there is something going on his mind, an internal struggle based on his body language that you get used to understand by now.

“Are you still havin' headaches and painful pulses?”

Honestly you wish to say no so he wouldn't worry. But the man likes the truth and only the truth as if the word is his middle name, and you own him that.

“Sometimes... but I'm fine right now. I thought it might be a form of withdraw?”

“You're not too far off. That piece of– person who turned ya didn't give you enough blood. Your human cells an' new vampire ones were basically fighting for dominance at the beginning, but it's clear which one will win in the end.”

Lifting his hand he uses the sharp claw of his index to slice a gash across his palm. Instantly his dark red blood pools in his grasp, before holding it out towards you.

“Drink.”

“I... c-can't?” It comes out as a question because you are indeed confused. “I mean– am I even allowed to? You're the vampire Lord after all... I–I don't want you to get in trouble–”

Harry chuckles immediately, like there isn’t a being alive that could punish him for breaking the rules. With a lift of his unharmed hand looping around your hip, he has you feeling all kind of dizzy when he clenches his fist and dripped his blood onto your plump pink lips.

“Just drink, dear. Maybe I need to start teachin' ya not to question my decisions, mmh?”

His words and your newfound position that has you sitting in his lap makes you feel bashful. You barely begin to lick your lips when the brunette lets you grab his hand to hold it up against your mouth. He feels your warm tongue lap lightly at first along his cold skin, before pursing against the wound and slowly starting to suck.

“That's it... You can sink y'fangs in if you want. The wound will heal faster than you think.”

You blink your big doe eyes at him, your face wondering without a word if all this is alright but you know Harry doesn’t want you to doubt him. Pulling back for just a second you take a breath and bare you fangs again, gently pressing into his skin enough to gulp a little more of his blood. As soon as he decides you had enough Harry pulls back and to your surprise, his wound and marks of your fangs both disappear within a few seconds.

The corners of his pale lips edge up, amused by your astonishment but he startles you with a reposition of your body before you can even realise anything. Now your legs are suddenly straddling either side of his hips, both of your hands pressing timidly at the turquoise suit covering his shoulders with confusion and shyness as the vampire brushes back your hair and leans down to your neck.

“My turn, now” his voice enticingly rasps against your skin. “We can replenish each other thi' way... though my blood is more to stabilise your vampire genes.”

Harry aires the hottest breath along your neck as he then bares his long fangs and sinks deeply into your flesh. You can’t help but gasp, but it sounds more like a moan that you aren’t completely aware of as he starts sucking your warm liquid.

“O-oh Harry–”

He smirks at your honesty, looping both of his hands around your backside. Within seconds he feels your own unsure sway, with the slow pet up against the back of his dark curls. It's been awhile since the brunette had a woman in his arms so his instincts and desires are telling him to take advantage of it.

But in the end Harry resolves against himself as you are still new to his world, and just wants to help you without adding strings. After a handful of seconds and a gulp or two of your sweet wine he pulls back, tenderly lapping up and down the holes until they heal properly and then help you sliding off his lap to make you sit next to him, catching sight of a shy blush of your cheeks and slightly faze expression.

“You shouldn't experience headaches anymore, darlin'” he begins almost too indifferently, “just don't do anything futile an' you’ll get used to bein' a vampire in no time.”

Next Harry sits up more comfortably, flattening his cream oversize pantsuits over his thighs as he side-eyes your cute expression – though is kind of displeased that you’re not looking at him anymore. But he does have to admit that teasing someone was such a nice sensation.

"I’m goin’ to make us some food, so relax in the meantime.”

You simply nod as an answer, definitely not trusting your voice since only stutters would come out if you try. But Harry doesn’t seem to pay attention to your lack of vocal answer, a satisfied expression on his face since he keeps enjoying the reactions you get over anything he does. And as much as he could simply use pressure to dominate and have you sweating in fear, all the man wants is a companion that won’t mind being at his side for awhile.

And so that's exactly who you became to the vampire.

Even after a few months and display that you were functioning perfectly as a vampire and could live on your own without trouble if you desired, you stayed. But the disheartened expression you showed him when Harry said you could leave struck a chord inside his chest. It was clear you thought he’s got tired of you or that you weren't allowed to stay with someone like him for very long because of his status.

Instantly the older vampire put a stop to any of those thoughts by saying that if you wanted to stay, you could. He wasn't kicking you out, he was only giving you the opportunity to leave and see the world by yourself. You were still a young and inexperienced vampire after all. Though the thought of traveling didn't sound like a bad idea, the year you spent with Harry up to this point had been very enjoyable. He held a most gentle yet imposing aura, which was only right since he was not just Lord in name but mostly in power. However that wasn't why you wanted to stay.

Harry had taken care of you and made you feel safe. The feeling you began to experience for him was new but somehow, you wanted to nurture the desire to be with him and make him happy if possible. The way he talked, teased, touched, held you in his grasp and let you feed off of him felt so intimate and somehow romantic.

In this respect time flew by and in a way felt like it had frozen since neither of you would show any signs of ageing. Both of you grew closer and found out that Harry was (surprisingly) a great cook, received visitors from the castle he told you about almost all the time and had a soft spot for the graceful beauty of nature. It was not that hard to tell because the brunette admitted right away that he enjoyed wandering outside the cottage, might be only to walk around or appreciate the first rays of dawn or sunset. And you could tell he took care to not trample the flowers under his steps and sometimes, you saw him watering the ones around his front porch. Some days you would even notice a new bouquet freshly gathered, settled in a Victorian style vase on the living room table. It was a small most insignificant trait, but you adored finding out those types of mannerisms.

“Harry?” you call softly with a thoughtful finger under your chin. At first you thought he was reading in his study since he had a nice little library, but the room was empty. Turning back, you check the living room and kitchen but they are both empty as well.

For a moment you wonder if he stepped out without saying – he's done it multiple times before. However you stop in front of his bedroom and get the feeling he might be taking a nap, another thing that isn’t uncommon. If he indeed is resting you don’t want to disturb him but after a small knock, you peak your head inside the room.

Low and behold there the brunette vampire is laying sprawled out on his bed, the silly thought that it should have been a coffin makes you giggle but you learned with him that many stereotypical aspects of vampires are so wrong – though it's true you can't walk in the sunlight, that crosses can cause pain and any significant damage to your body will kill you.

Now that you know he's asleep, you can't ask him what you wanted. Without getting too close you watch him sleep for a second and find his peaceful expression alleviating. Every now and then, you get the feeling the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And inside your heart, you know he was such a good man. After maybe a minute you turn back, ready to head out the room but his low and raspy voice calls out to you in a way that has you tripping over your own feet, bumping into the nearby wall.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Aren’t ya a bit clumsy, dear?” Harry snickers while sitting up, watching you rub your shoulder with a flustered expression.

From the look on your face and the way you avoid eye contact, he can clearly guess what you are bashfully unsure of if it's alright to ask of him.

“If you want to be fed, come ‘ere.”

The fact that Harry always knows what's on your mind is a little scary and reassuring at the same time because he has never used any of his power to harm you. With soft eyes, you step over to the right side of his bed and watch as he unbuttons the first few around the collar of his extravagant flowing shirt. As soon as his neck is exposed from the lacy collar, the vampire leans to the side beckoning you to take what you want without a word.

A gulp slides down your throat as you sit down on the edge of the bed. With the lift of your hands, you slowly push his pearly necklace up then press them on each of his shoulders before brushing your nose along his neck, fanning an ever soft breath against his skin with the bare of your fangs.

“I really like your personality, Harry... I-I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Your tender confession catches him off guard more than the actual prick of your fangs, not that any bite you'd already given him comes with very much force. The brunette can feel himself enjoying the way you suck his blood out of his system. It’s definitely a hard thing to play off for him right now, and it has actually been every single day you shared with him.

When you had a gulp or two you then part a little and tenderly kitten-like lap at your punctures, speeding up the healing process for him.

“... do you want to bite me as well?”

Though your cheeks are a little warm you show a most candid smile, brushing back your hair to display your neck for him just as he has done for you.

“I do, but... I'll decide where I want to bite ya. Just relax, darlin'.”

Despite a little confusion, you don’t mind the tug of your body closer to his own. Both of his unblinking emerald orbs glanced your body up and down in a way that makes you feel embarrassed. If he’s not going to bite your neck, where else is he going to sink his fangs?

The dress you have on is a simple long white off the shoulder variety that honestly displays some of your skin while still letting you look sweet and innocent. Honestly Harry likes it a lot – maybe a bit too much actually – just because he would wickedly enjoy defiling that imagery in his mind. You are a kind and sweet woman, a total sweetheart indeed, but the man already found out vividly that you liked pleasure just as much as anyone else does.

Without thinking very much his cold hand raises up against your right knee, the tail of your outfit covering it. The way you shyly bite your bottom lip with your fangs is a hell of a nice image. Harry only caresses a little bit along your inner thigh before sliding his hand under the fabric, and then rest it directly on your skin. Edging his head forward he startles you with the way he tugs down the middle of you dress with his fangs, until he can see perfectly between your cleavage.

The location Harry chose is so confusing that your frame jolts the moment the vampire sinks into your flesh. Both his hands are against your body, enjoying its shape as he gulps your sweet nectar greedily. He savours your startled grasp on his shirt but the uneven pulse he feels beneath your flesh encourages him to keep going, his now scarlet orbs flickering with heavier desire.

All it takes is another small tug to reveal your bare breasts to his lidded sight. By time you realise his lips are already pursed around the closest nipple, warmly lapping the flat of his tongue in a way that feels exquisite. Like the male vampire you quickly get caught up in the moment, leaning your head back to moan and enjoy the added fray of his hand squeezing the other breast.

For a moment, you briefly thinks about how his saliva and tongue are both so warm as they suckle and lick your skin, when his flesh is cold and pale like your own. The answer doesn’t matter specially as his fangs tease your little nub. It’s clear Harry can’t hold back no more, now sunking savagely into your mound.

“O-oh my–!”

A ripple of pure ecstasy slides all over your body, causing you to moan Harry’s name not just once but a couple of times. The pleasure is so unexpected yet your arms circle around his shoulders, curving along his fine muscles but that’s when he realises how he’s letting his lust for you take over him.

Abruptly the brunette detaches from you, a small pop making you gasp but for the most part your hazy expression questions him with such want that he has to look away for his own sanity. The unhindered view of your breasts really dulls all of his develop senses. It had been awhile since he felt such powerful sexual desire for a woman, definitely way too long since his body was apparently getting out of control and a mind of its own.

“Get out” Harry suddenly growls, making you frown and wonder what you’ve done wrong. “I didn't mean to do that– I just got caught up in trying to tease ya. If you're still hungry, go find a human.” When you don’t seem to move, still shocked at his harsh way of talking that rarely happen (in fact it never happens with you), the vampire turns his head back while flaring his menacing dark embers at you in a way that makes you tremble.

With a hurt expression you quickly cover your chest, trying to fix your dress the best you can before apologising like a hurt puppy and simply scamper at the speed of the light out of the room. Once alone, a now heavy silence settled in, Harry’s fists bowl-clawing his palms but it was the least he cared about. He didn’t mean to scare you, in fact he's been trying so hard not to use any of his powers on you.

The man is centuries older than you and shouldn't care about trivial feelings you may have, but both of you had such a good relationship since now and a part of him doesn’t want it to change... though Harry has always seen you as a beautiful woman. It’s not like he can’t admit that much at last, the man was kind of bad at expressing himself out loud most of the time. What he was most unsure about is if you really wanted him or if it was your vampire senses that tells you to submit to him like that.

With a heavy sigh he buttons his white shirt half way up, arranging his long and floating sleeves while deciding he should at least check on you. After all Harry won’t blame you for leaving if you want to create space between you two. Because now that he thinks about it, never did he ever speak to you like he did five minutes ago, and repeatedly calls himself a douche for that.

The thought quickly – and thankfully – dissipates the moment he steps into the hall and hears the running water from the shower inside your bedroom. A relived expression formed on his face, glad that you didn’t leave. Abandonment was something he was used to over the centuries and had lived through many times. It’s honestly a miracle it had been about three years at this point and you maintained a good playful relationship with each other – well, until a few moments ago.

Soundlessly, Harry edges down the hall and notices the door of your bedroom open. As he approaches towards it, he finds himself inside the room before advancing to the closed bathroom door. Now in front of it he closes his eyes and place his hand on the wooden doorframe. His senses are far more astute than your own so every subtle breath you take, movements through the water or flex of your hands as they rubbed soap against your pale body... he could picture it pretty vividly. Just imagining the curves of your body is turning him on, specially thanks to the welcomed sneak peak at your chest from earlier. His fingers silently curl around the door knob, a light voice in his head reminding him once again he should stop before reaching the point of no return, that he should leave you in peace to wash up and later and offer you a nice meal as an apology for being a complete jackass earlier.

However, he can't. His senses twinge with the soothing aroma of lavender tickling his nostrils, knowing that's the soap he got you some weeks ago. With the slowest of movement that you won’t hear nor sense if you don't focus on it, the brunette opens the door wide enough to allow him a peak through the crack.

The first thing his eyes drag over is your long dress crumpled on the floor along with a soft cotton pair of light blue panties. Without waiting a second longer he tilts up and gets a completely unhindered view of your backside. His eyes follow the dip of your spine to the soft plush curve of your ass and long legs. Just observing this much of you has him gulping down hungrily but the moment you turn, using both hands to accentuate your breasts and stomach, there is no path to return to. All Harry can do is pant an uneven breath as you sway the water over your womanly shapes, washing away the soapy sheen of bubbles and suds.

The content and relaxed hum you air echoes inside the small space of the glass shower, bringing the man goosebumps of delight like a moan without sexual inclination. The more he watches your body and the subtle move of your fingers, the more Harry can't stop his own from unzipping his pantsuit to free his cock. His strong fingers curl around his girth, slowly pumping himself up and down as he watches you bend over just a bit to let water cascade down your back. An instant burn of want invades his entire body, the desire to squeeze those fine cheeks or even offer you a naughty little spank not leaving his mind.

Harry watches your hands do exactly what he desires when they pet down your hips and accentuate the shape of your bottom, like the water feels particularly nice cascading against it. Honestly, the smirk can’t leave his face. You're incredibly and undeniably sexy in a most natural way, so why holding back? His palm squeezes the tip of his manhood with excited fervor, still watching you smile shyly at the barely noticeable bite marks on your chest. You like to an extreme when the brunette vampire bites you, there’s no denying this fact as you moaned it to him many times. And Harry has a feeling you would have let him go further if he didn’t get confused about his fantasies.

The claws of his other hand dig into the frame of the door, scratching it all up as he pumps himself with the unbearable desire he has inside his guts for you to touch him. It doesn't even have to be his cock, he'd be fine with you admiring his body like you have before or stroking through his hair with that soft content smile on your delicate pink lips.

Thoughts inside his head become more erotic when he looks up at the sound of your soft voice humming a little tune. Both of his now dark scarlet eyes end up focusing on your mouth and gritting his teeth in a haze of wanting to feel those plump appendages against his girth. The movement of your tongue and warmth of your throat he can picture so vividly bring him closer and closer to the edge with each squeeze along his base and tip.

He even finds the way you rinse your hair to be erotic because you look so whimsical. A thought of wanting to devour you in every single way possible is what officially sends him over the edge, causing him to grind his teeth and grunt your name as he comes all over his hand.

His mind is so cloudy and hazy he doesn't even care that you’ve finally noticed him. Your eyes widen in total surprise, but your complexion darkens at the lewd sight of his arousal dripping from his fingers. Your head turns away before you can implode from embarrassment, hot water still running along your naked skin. You can’t help the deepest thoughts running wild and wondering if Harry was watching you shower to eventually pleasure himself to your body while doing so.

“Don't act shy now, my dear. I'm about to join you.”

At first you blink in confusion, glancing back in his direction to watch as he shuts the bathroom door to be inside the room with you. This signature showing-dimples grin enlightens his face in a way that reveals his pearly white fangs, before letting his already oversize black pantsuits fall to the floor. Harry is pretty quick to unbutton his shirt again, the soft and almost see-through fabric sliding off his shoulder to cascade on the floor soon followed by his trousers and underpants, leaving him absolutely naked for your eyes only.

Harry is the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. A tall and sculptured vampiric body that probably hasn't changed for hundreds of years. With a few steps forward the brunette is on the other side of the shower glass door and wraps his fingers around the handle, ready to erase any distance separating you both. He pauses his movement for a few seconds, letting both of you take in each other’s new found appearance and what might be about to happen.

“If I join you, (Y/N)” begins Harry almost in a whisper, his eyes never leaving yours, “... I won’t ever be able to leave ya alone.”

Your eyes rise in surprise, his expression reflective of how serious he was being. For a second or two you turn away, your hands covering your face which is giving him the impression you might be having second thoughts. Though the croak of your voice and the tender expression you offer when you slowly spin back proves how you've been able to constantly surprise him these past years.

“Is that a promise?"

Without a second thought Harry is right by your side and looming over you in a possessive dominating way. Both of his hands pet along the warm and wet edge of your stomach, before gripping your hips and tugging you completely into his body. Without pretence his expression represents just how much he enjoys your whole and can’t wait but brush some of your hair sticked on your face, assuring you he can't wait another second to kiss you.

The distance between you both closes with the warmest capture of your lips that quickly becomes some passionate tongue action. It honestly feels that divine you couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss. The warmth of the water doubles nicely the little fire forming inside your guts, in a way that affirms you’ve never felt such a discombobulating kiss before.

Right away Harry greedily begins stroking, groping and petting every single supple curve your body has to offer. Even your own hands note the nice shape of his back and every defined dreamy muscle. His lips curve up as he tugs playfully at your bottom lip, the gentle way you appreciate his shape really has him feeling some type of way.

“Give yourself to me, darlin’, this time I won’t be holdin’ back.”

The air of his wanting rasp meets the underside of your chin, of which Harry is currently kissing his way down. With a press of both his hands on your lower back he has you arching and moaning as he licks between your breasts. When the vampire starts to nip at your plush skin, it’s even more overwhelming because not only is he pursing his lips but his tongue is gliding all over you. The flat of his wet muscle makes sure to whirl around the ridge of your nipple, assuring it’s perfectly erect before nibbling on it with his fangs.

“Oh Harry, that feels so good...”

Hearing your honest pleasure encourages him to absolutely cover your breasts in love bites both a literal and physical way, each mark more blissful than the next. Your mind becomes so consumed you don’t even know Harry is backing you up until you meet with the wet and slightly cold tiles.

Just looking up to admire the shower water perfectly cascading over his rippling muscles – his weirdly yet attractive inked skin on full display and usual necklaces in place – is the most blessed image you could wish for. This Adonis of a man looks so perfect that you lean up to offer him your own slow and sensual desire filled kiss. Little do you know he enjoys your initiative, specially since you’re kitty licking around his tongue.

Slowly Harry begins to take over such as his more dominate nature, but you oh so don’t mind. In fact you’re getting lost in the way his strong hands fondle and squish your chest. The thumb of his left hand even circled around the perky tip, while his middle and index on his other give you some slow pinches like he’s determined to have you mewling into his mouth.

“I must ‘ave been out of my mind to wait three fuckin’ years to ‘ave you...” Harry growls while baring his fangs, pressing into the top area of your shoulder. The bite he gives isn’t even painful since the puncture is slow and the suckle he drinks your blood feels so pleasurable.

“H-Harry, I’ve never felt any pain w-when you bite me” you start, stuttering from all his attention on you. “I-I thought I was weird, b-but I can't help but want so much more...”

Harry’s lips curve up against your skin as you let a louder and more frequent moan, not only because the vampire leaves deep red hickeys on your neck and collarbones, but because his hand slides down to rest between your legs.

The moment you sense it outlining your womanhood, you arch your back while clutching your hands tightly around his shoulders. Without waiting his index and middle finger caress your lower lips for just a second or two, before encouraging your legs to spread further apart so Harry can thrust them effortlessly into your core.

“A-ah– feels so good!”

Enraptured by your praise, Harry increases his rhythm and feels the thump of your slow heartbeat. His own is probably pulsing in the same way, it's been so long since the man felt this exhilarated. With a caress at your hip for you to steady, the wobble your legs frays at his kisses all over your breasts and even a slippery curl with his tongue down to your belly button.

By the time you try to follow what’s happening, the brunette is already on his knees between your legs, kissing nonstop at your inner thighs. Out of the corner of his eye you can tell Harry is actually watching himself glide his fingers in and out of your slippery folds. It should be embarrassing, but you find that more thrilling than anything else. He’s so passionate as a lover, the attention he gives being excruciatingly euphoric whatever he does.

“Earlier” his raspy voice mumbles against your thigh before he proceeds, “I was so tempted to push y'down an’ bite your thigh...”

As he licks hungrily at your skin, you recall how he caressed up your upper leg earlier, the touch offered when you woke him up was oddly intimate. It made you bashful since it was so sudden, but if he had done as he wanted you wouldn't have stopped him.

“Now I’ve a second chance... so don't mind if I do, darlin’.”

Your chest heaves with the warmth bubbling all over your skin as you watch the bare of his pointy sharp fangs and the immediate pierce into your inner thigh. A loud moan echoes around the shower, the vibrations prickling Harry’s ears and assuring he won’t part from your delectable flesh until he gives you his most vivid love bite.

Your head shakes at how all consuming the pleasure you’re gladly receiving feels. And as he sucks the sweet blood from your thigh, he doesn’t hesitate to add a third finger into your fold, now working a pace that lets you know in accurate detail that you're indeed incredibly wet. It’s not just the shower anymore, both of you know this for a fact. By now you have no problem admitting you’re turned on like a thousand lightbulbs.

“Your smell’s drivin’ me insane...!” came his lidded snarl, some little blood dripping down his chin but quickly washed away by the shower. Harry is darting for your womanhood like a famished animal, the instant curl of his fingers along your slit having you whimpering and yanking at his wet hair a bit too hard.

“F-fuck– I’m sorry Harry” you whimper out your sincere apologise along with a moan, the back of your head bumping on the tile wall as if the king of vampires like the one kneeling between your legs could get hurt from such a small type of friction. “It feels like I-I can't breath– feels so good!”

"If you're that out of it, y'can be rougher...”

His warm breath hazes over the sensitive bead of your clit, making you convulse in pleasurable disarray. With his hands taking a fist full of your ass, Harry pushes you deeper against his tongue to then curl it up and down. The sensation of him lapping against your slick inner walls has you seeing stars, knowing a man has never eaten you out so hungrily before.

With the constant pant of your moans filling the primal space inside his head, there is only one and simple desire he has: to make you cum on his tongue and no matter what, he will not pull away until you do. It’s more rewarding than you'll ever know to have your writhing body in his grasp, not just your trembling legs when he had the chance to have you innocently straddle him, but the arousal coating his lips and the subtle desire filled push of your hands that want him even deeper inside you were exciting in a maddening way.

“A-ah please Harry, I c-can't–!”

You are barely able to tell him how close you’re feeling right now, as drool ebbs heavily down your lips. Harry is already aware though because of the curl of your fingers, each tugging at his hair in your peak of utmost disorienting pleasure.

With a gentle pat over your soft wet body, he squishes both of your breasts and thrusts his red muscle in a most detail oriented type of way. Your praises grow in frequency as well, telling him how utterly euphoric you feels and how hot the knot in your stomach makes your skin burn, bringing you closer to your end. Everything kinda rushes to the tipping point with a pinch to your buds, causing the instant convulse of your folds and drench of your fluids flow down his chin, assuring the fangs in his mouth are vividly pulsating.

It takes everything not to sink in to your most sensitive body part. Harry manages to calm himself down with the caress of your hands falling limp, feeling one curve around his ear to hold him gently where he is. With the thought of how much he needs to claim you, the brunette gulps down your nectar and even laps the slippery sheen coating your slit.

As he raises back up to stand, all it takes is a small hazy blink for you to miss completely the way Harry yanks up both of your legs and positioned you right against his cock. “’m gonna take you hard an' fast– can't wait another second to make y'mine.”

Your lips part but all you’re able to say is a pant of his name, while coiling tightly around his neck and nodding your head.

“Have all of me, take me Harry–”

The vampire most certainly doesn’t have to be told twice, so without hesitation he thrusts deeply into your slippery folds. His speed is just as instantaneous as the pleasure you start to drown in. You never knew your voice could go so loud and high pitched until a man with much vigour and strength named Harry came along, thrusting his hips in a way that fills you to the brim with every movement he makes.

“S-Shit you're so fuckin' wet– so tight ‘round me, only for me–”

His fangs are on domineering display, getting off on your pleasurable honesty just as much as the throb of your tight folds. You don’t get to see his expression though as you leaned your head back again but this time caused by a every aggressive slam of your ass on his thighs. That gives him the perfect opportunity to enjoy your neck, so the vampire doesn’t mind.

Each electrifying kiss left on your skin feels exceptional, every sway of his hips lets you know he’s a well endowed man and quite honestly just being in his arms has you feeling this way. This man didn't have to save you or take you in and just could have gotten rid of your at any time. But the instant he's allowed you to stay and gave you a comforting space to get used to your knew desires and vampiric body.

There is a part of you that wishes you still has a conventional heartbeat just so you could feel how erratic it could be thundering against your ribcage. However, even without a human heartbeat you still knew you were excited beyond all belief. Just being able to run your hands along his shoulders, maybe even brush up against the back of his head has you feel like his long time lover.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of ya” Harry suddenly growls in madness, dropping one of your legs back against the floor while he pulled the other higher up and hold your thigh, basically watching himself rammed his thick cock into your body. There’re not a single word forming on the tip of your tongue other than whimpers and mewls of ecstasy.

His speed and precision to hit your most sensitive spots are probably only possible due to his improved senses and longevity. No doubt in your mind Harry probably had many past lovers before you but you don’t really care. He always tells you to live in the moment and not muddle through just because of your past.

“You're now a vampire, (Y/N). Act like one for your own sake.”

These are the words he told you over the past shared years together, which became your mantra to feel validated in your new life. Speaking of your new desires, your fangs are constantly throbbing and pulsating for the past minute, reason why your eyes have been glued to his neck and shoulder ever since. The need to bite him is so overwhelming that you simply don’t care to ask before diving forward to sink deeply into the space right bellow his ear.

“H-hah, y'little vixen– that feels so damn good, have your fill” the brunette encourages you with no malice but utter pleasure.

In fact he’s enjoying the twinge of your fangs so much his fervour keeps increasing. His hips edge even closer while his clawed hand takes a hold of your waist and starts slapping at your inner thighs in a way that have your arousal dripping profusely onto the shower floor.

You can’t stop yourself from moaning against his skin or salivating heavily as you absorb down his delectable blood. You swear his nectar tastes even more delicious then it ever has before, like the most finest aged wine. It's a thought you can barely focus on as you suddenly toss your head back, feeling yourself reach a most blissful end.

The moment Harry senses your insides clench repeatedly, he shoves his tongue down your throat and becomes enraptured in the way you meet his every slapping movements. Heavy saliva from both of you mixes together, dripping profusely down your chin as soon as you feels the deeply penetrating thrust of his cock slam into your womb. His arousal fills you to the brim in a way that makes you drift through euphoria.

After some time the brunette parts from your kissed swollen lips, a thin sheen of saliva still connects you together before quickly breaking when he licks his fine pale lips. The vampire smirks at you in complete satisfaction while ever slowly edging his girth away from your wall, not without admiring how thickly coated in your juices his manhood is. Maybe Harry even salaciously admires the dribble of your combined arousal from your slit, but it’s clear you are feeling utterly spent and can only keep yourself up by pressing a bit at his chest and shoulders, leaning your back against the tiles behind you.

With a soft expression that suits him so heavenly, Harry tenderly strokes his hands up your body while admiring once again the plush shape of your stomach, breasts and the slender trail up your neck to cup your soft cheeks. The smile you give him proves he’s offering all the affection he is able of with the sensual touch of your lips with his. This kiss is the slowest and most romantic you ever felt from him yet, while the brunette lifts you in his arms properly again before pulling away from the kiss.

“I'll help you dry off, dear. ‘think we've soaked in the shower long enough.”

“Thank you Harry” you thank him with a slight smile, your cheeks nuzzled into his wet chest before placing a kiss there that has him avoiding your gaze and wondering where a romance like this has been all his long life.

You sit still once he settles you on the sink counter, wiggling cutely as he dries you off with purposeful caresses of your more intimate body parts. When he also dries himself both of you get dressed – you into the long nightdress you took before your shower and him back in his oversized pantsuits only. Afterwards, you take his hand as Harry walks you both out of your bathroom. It’s clear you wish for him to lay with you in your nearby bed but he hesitates at the edge of it, looking towards your still wide open door. It seems like Harry wants to escape but that’s not it at all. He is looking towards his study at the other side of the hallway where an item he had hidden was secretly and well kept.

“I'll be right back– hey, don't make that face, darlin’... I'll lay with ya when I come back.”

You lean into the palm of his warm hand that softly strokes your cheek, adding a hopeful nod. Your soft eyes trail behind his tall figure as Harry steps out into the hall, leaving your door cracked open behind him. With a little doubt forming in your heart you lay on the silk mattress of your bed and turn, rolling back and forth like a restless child waiting for time to fly as fast as possible.

It took him longer than he wanted as he struggled with whether this was the right thing to do or completely the opposite, tons of questions invading his mind: did you want him as much as he wanted you, and so should he trust you with a secret only a handful of the Royal vampires know? His hundreds of years differs so greatly from your barely twenty-five-ish ones. The brunette keeps rushing his thoughts because first, he wants you to be happy and second, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

With the item in his hands, Harry clenches his fingers tightly around it and makes his way back to your side. As he enters the silent room, smelling some faint aroma of lavender from your previous shared (hot) shower, you’re actually snoring softly while sprawled out in a way that takes up nearly the entire bed, which makes the brunette slightly chuckles at how silly yet adorable you are. He shakes his head with the soft expression you love so much on him, effortlessly scooting you further to one side before climbing in next to you.

For a couple of minutes Harry strokes your hair and caresses your skin, before taking your right hand and placing on your fourth finger a gold ring with a glimmering ruby jewel in its middle. Your eyes flicker open at the feeling, followed by a small yawn while watching the careful placement of your new jewellery with a bashful smile.

“... Are you asking me to marry you, Harry?”

His emerald eyes open wide in shock, skin darkening more than you thought a creature like him was capable of. Instantly the brunette uses your palm to cover his face and slowly shakes his head, the white pearl of his necklace softly jiggling around his neck at this. The breath from his parted lips tickles your skin and honestly makes you fall at peace.

“N-no– well n-not yet at least, uh–” Harry stutters, still hiding his face with your hand. He clears his throat before continuing “though this is my gift to you, love.”

You can’t see the way he actually bites his bottom lip, but your eyes notice both his hands covered in rings that he always wears. And one catches your attention, the one with a similar ruby jewel in the middle yet of a different shape.

“This will allow ya to walk 'round in the sunlight, this way it will no longer cause you any harm, my dear.”

“Really? But you said that it would always hurt...?”

“Without an amulet blessed an’ enchanted by a powerful witch, the sunlight will cause us vampires harm. That’s why you must always wear it.”

Harry lowers your combined hands so you’re finally able to see the serious expression on his face. “You must never tell anyone abou' this. Not a single soul, vampire or human alike, my dear. No one.”

“I would never cause you trouble, Harry. And I promise I'll take this secret to my grave” you respond back, arms sliding around his hips like a silent wish to lay your head against his bare torso, a motion which your lover gladly welcomes by sliding his fingers through your hair.

With a thankful smile you get comfortable, closing your eyes in hopes to snuggle with him while you sleep.

“People will not question it if y’tell them you were sired by me” proceeds the brunette vampire abasing your hair, fingers still entangled in your soft locks to massage your scalp. “It's a misconception tha' pure royal vampires are born immune to the hurtful rays of sunlight... Most of our kind think a person turned by us will also be immune.”

“I wish... I had been turned by you” you let out in a whisper while keeping your face nuzzle against Harry’s chest. “I want to be with you for as long as I'm able to.”

The vampire can’t resist but leave feather-like kisses on your forehead and hairline, your confession definitely making him feel... alive. His hot breath hitting your skin gently soothe you and so are his kisses, the sudden brush of his nose against your face bringing a delightful giggle out of you which Harry would never get tired of.

“Maybe I'll be the one to ask you to marry me, who knows...” you add, your index finger sliding over his pearl necklace with a define grin on your face.

No words could describe how you make Harry feel. Never has he been more grateful for the quick way you fall asleep just so he could hug you tightly against him. Maybe later, he will be able to tell you that, as surprising as that may sound, the man has never been married in his long life either. There has never been someone this special to him to go for it. It's indeed hard to say if Harry wants to make that commitment with you at this point either the thing he’s sure of is his wish - no, his desire to be with you. Forever.

“Good night, my love... Maybe tomorrow I’ll take ya to the castle y’ask me about all the time.”

* * *

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morganas-pendragons · 4 years ago

Text

Goodbye For Now | Din Djarin

I had a dream the same day this aired that incorporated Goodbye by Avril Lavigne... and yeah, this was born. I put a lot of my own experiences into this fic. It’s very personal. Regardless of that, I hope you enjoy!

tag: @earthtokace / @kyber-queen / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol

This is literally the first fic in years I’ve used Y/N and it’s just one line for the fic, and I think it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written on Tumblr.

Word count: 5.1k OOPS

After

In the quietness of a little room in the back of an inn on Nevarro, the question asked by a grieving Din Djarin rolls around in your mind. You hadn’t been able to give him an immediate answer. It was too fresh. Too heavy.

What’s the hardest part about letting go?

As The Mandalorian sleeps fitfully behind you with his arm wound tightly enough around your waist to ensure you do not disappear in his sleep - because has he not sacrificed enough? - you ponder his question as much as your sleep deprived mind is able.

Din.. I think the hardest part about letting go is being able to accept that the people you’re letting go of aren’t apart of your life anymore. They aren’t physically with you anymore. They aren’t imprinted on your memory, on your soul. You just have to let it... fade. Let them fade until they're just a story.

Your eyes flicker down to the ring that lays on your left finger.

But in a galaxy as remarkable as this one... There’s always that glimmer of hope that someday, maybe someday... they’ll come back to you. That they won’t leave you.

“And Grogu will never leave you Din.” You whisper, wrapping your hand around his forearm and lightly squeezing it as you settle into the warmth of his embrace. “Never.”

Before

Your blood chills in your veins at the words, “I go alone.” because there is no possible way in Sith hells you are allowing Din to walk onto that cruiser alone. As Bo-Katan reiterates the plan to the crew around you, your eyes are focused on the rigid and silent Mandalorian standing across the holo-table.

You’re not coming with me.

Are you really naive enough to believe I’m letting you go alone, Din? You snap, to which he winces at your sharp tone. If Gideon is half intelligent as I think he is, he’ll have installed impenetrable defenses on those dark-troopers. You'll need a Jedi to get through them.

You can practically feel the burn of his gaze through the helmet. It’s obvious he wants you with the larger group, but you refuse to bow when the life of your son is at stake. If he’s going to retrieve the baby, you very much intend on remaining by his side to ensure the safety of them both.

Until the end.

Fine. You stick by me, don’t say a word- He pauses and swallows the reluctance in his throat that dies when he meets your eyes through the helmet. You know he’s looking at you... and you know how fearful he is. And please, don’t die.

You beam. Dying without you, Din Djarin? I have no intentions of doing that anytime soon.

The two of you disengage from the shuttle, trekking through the bodies left in the wake of the women in the landing bay as you move in the direction of the brig. Doctor Pershing had disclosed that Gideon had been keeping the baby there, so there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t still remain within the same cell.

Your blood roars in your ears as you disengage the lock on your staff and hold the hilts of each saber in your hands. The Force envelops you in its comforting hold - wraps around your bones and your scars and your muscles and invigorates you with a strength you haven’t felt since before The Republic fell - and guides your steps that will lead you in the direction of the little one who holds a large piece of your heart.

The other piece is held in the hands of The Mandalorian.

Din. You murmur. I just need you to know that you may see a side of me today that you’ve never seen before. If that in any way changes how you feel about me-

He stops you short just as a pair of Stormtropers jog past. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. He sounds certain, almost confident, in his answer. The sound of it makes your chest warm.

Never?

Never.

It’s right there on the tip of your tongue. You’ve only said it to each other once in the time that you’ve been together, but you’ve never desired to say it more then this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It’s too rushed. Dancing too close to the edge of anticipation as you seek out your child.

Your heart nearly jumps out your chest as Din sprints in the direction of the doors where the dark troopers are emerging and one lone soldier has escaped. Before you can react, the man you love is being held against the wall in an iron grip and a fist is repeatedly pounding itself into his helmet.

“Din!”

The Dark-Trooper turns its eyes on you, and you’re suddenly flung into a lifetime of battle skills that kept you alive when you’d served as a Padawan in The Clone Wars and on the front lines of The Rebellion. You slide forward on your knees and remove the legs of the trooper just as Din impales the thing with the Beskar spear slung across his back.

“I’m fine-” He rasps, extending a hand to hold you at arms length as your trembling hands tighten their grip on your saber. It’s not often that Din comes face to face with Death when you're standing right there. People are petrified of Jedi. There aren’t many of them left. Mandalorian bounty hunters, however... They can be more expendable. Easier to break then one who is gifted with The Force.

“C’mon. I’ll take point.”

Right here. The Force whispers its assurance as you both stand in front of the nearest cell, and the moment the door opens you are granted with the sight of Moff Gideon holding the dark saber in front of Grogu.

Buir. You’d completely forgotten the baby had bonded himself to you in the days just shortly after you’d found him. He’d rarely used it. He’d only ever opened himself up to project his emotions onto you in order for you to know when something was wrong, but the minute you see him sitting on that bench, he’s talking to you.

Grogu holds his hands out as if he’s reaching for you, wide eyes pleading for you to remove the Force Suppressant handcuffs that envelop his tiny hands. Buir.

Tears prick your eyes as you ignite your saber. The other sits idle on your hip just out of reach.

“Drop the blaster,” Moff nods to your saber. “And your saber. Slowly.” The two of you drop your weapons simultaneously. “Now kick them over to me.” Before Din can do so, you wave your hand to throw your weapons just out of reach. “Very nice. I didn’t know Jedi could be civil.”

The venom drips from his words. “If you’re not careful,” You warn. “I will show you what I look like when I am not civil.” A split second passes as you watch the fear flicker through his gaze before he’s tightening his grip on the dark saber. Moff had not, to your knowledge, encountered any kind of Jedi up until this point. He only knew of their abilities. Not of what they were capable of - with the dark or the light - with The Force at their disposal.

The damage you could cause....

“Give me the kid.”

“The Kid is just fine where he is.” Gideon replies, to which he begins moving the dark saber back and forth just to hear the satisfying hum of its kyber that rings within the hilt. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? It used to belong to Bo-Katan.” Din stops short at his statement. “Yes. I know you’ve both been traveling with Bo-Katan. Friendly piece of advice, assume I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.”

Your gaze is still trained on the kid. Did he hurt you? Your voice is gentle as you prod at the shields that Grogu has placed inside of his mind. For someone who has little to no training, he’s rather good at making sure nobody can reach the most vulnerable places of himself. Ad’ika, it’s okay. It’s your buir. Did he hurt you?

Din and the Moff are still talking as your son lifts his head, meets your soft - and familiar, he hasn’t felt this safe since he was last on Tython, knowing you and Din were out there protecting him - gaze, and shakes his head.

Bless The Maker.

You shake yourself out of your reverie at the Moff’s words. “I see your bond with him. The bond the Jedi has made with him,” He comments, disengaging the dark saber as he moves away from the baby. “The two of you can take him, but you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.”

The Force coils itself around you. Tightens around your arms as if you pull you away from the baby, and just as Din moves to pick him up, whispers danger before The Moff has reengaged the dark saber and slams the weapon into Din’s jetpack.

“Din! Go!”

Buir. You throw yourself right into the line of fire, regardless of the threat to your own life, and envelop Grogu in your arms as the fight between the Moff and Din carries out into the hallway. Safe.

You aren’t sure if he’s talking about himself or you. Regardless, you cradle him against your chest and bring your knees upward to shelter him within your manse.

Yes. Safe.

The cuffs fall to the floor with a snap of your fingers.

***

You’re straight up itching to punch Bo-Katan right in her smug face. After bringing Gideon to the bridge where the rest of your team awaits you, the Moff confesses the origins behind the Dark Saber - which for some reason is a tradition, despite Mandalore’s loss, that Bo-Katan still follows because it is what she knows - and the Princess of Sundari refuses to take it back from Din.

“You are so stuck in your old ways, Bo-Katan.” You snap, Grogu still cradled in your arm as you pace the width of the bridge. Din still wields the blade and grasps the Moff in the other hand, hardened gaze set on the thick-headed Mandalorian before him. “Wake up! This is not your sister’s Mandalore-”

The youngest Kryze whips around. Shock and disbelief writes itself into your features because that is the only time you can recall seeing such a fire lit within her. “Don’t you dare speak her name-” She snarls, pointing an accusatory finger at you as the two of you step toe to toe. “Or even think of her.”

You are so tempted to release your biggest secret, the one you’ve been keeping from everyone - even before you met Din - for your own safety. You hadn’t even told the Skywalker's about it.

It’s fortunate you didn’t obtain the auburn hair.

“Why don’t you kill him now and take it? It’s yours now.”

“What is?”

“The dark saber.”

Bo-Katan will not relent. Until she wins that saber in combat, she refuses to even lay a hand on the dark saber. You find the entire thing amusing given what your former Master had told you in hushed stories underneath a starry sky about Clan Kryze. Stubborn, prideful women. Satine’s pride had earned her an early grave. Bo-Katan, however... that remained to be determined.

“I yield. It’s yours.’’

Din is too good for the throne of Mandalore. All he wants in life is a ship, the baby, and you. That is what drives him to hand the dark saber over to Bo-Katan. That is what drives him at all.

You know about the Dark Saber. You’ve heard the tales surrounding it since you were small, stranded on a home world you’d have rather never seen again with your father and a thrumming lightsaber crystal. The Force will be with you. Always. He had made that promise just before he died, and you had carried his words with you ever since. That man had sheltered you, raised you, made you his own.

And as Din watches you hold that Dark Saber out in front of your hand, he finally sees the resemblance. He sees the ferocity in your gaze and the defeat in Bo-Katan’s, he sees how similar you too are in both personality and physical appearance.

What the kriff?

“He’s right. The power is in the story, not the weapon.” Darkened eyes meet your own as your pulse thrums erratically beneath your grip on the Dark Saber. “Ironic how a Jedi raised on Coruscant knows more about Mandalore then most of the people in here, two of which are from Mandalore.”

“Who said I wasn’t from Mandalore?”

Before the two of you can argue, one of the alarms begins blaring on the opposite side of the bridge. The dark troopers have breached the ray shields and board the cruiser.

“You’re about to face off with the Dark Troopers. You had your hands full with one, let’s see how you do against a platoon.”

This was the precise moment you’d warned Din about. “Bo-Katan,” You call over your shoulder at the Princess, who turns to acknowledge you as she puts her helmet on. Now or never I guess. “Ke'pare olar, cabuor cuun adiik. Par Clan Kryze.”

Before Bo-Katan can ask you what you’re doing, you reach into your tunic and reveal the pendant you’ve worn since long before you met Din. A token from the man who'd taken it upon himself to raise you, you’d been everywhere with the tiny silver owl that almost never left your person.

Her breath catches in her lungs. The last time she saw that pendant...

“Sarad-”

“Din?” You question hesitantly and lowly enough that the others can’t hear, handing him the baby before you reach for your sabers. “Remember when I told you I was going to do something you’ve never seen before?” Din nods and tightens his grip on Grogu as you activate each saber and turn in the direction of the doors.

“Yes.”

The Mandalorian catches your trembling hands wrapped tightly enough around your sabers to turn your knuckles white.

Din swallows the trepidation that lingers in his throat and squares his jaw beneath the helmet, allowing his fear of what may happen to you - despite knowing how well you can take care of yourself - to confine itself to the back of his mind. He can dwell on it later.

You’re making the child’s safety your top priority.

“Don’t let it change anything.”

You cast one last look over your shoulder at the man you love, allowing your gaze to soften as Grogu eyes him, then you, and rests a tiny hand against Din’s. He’s trying to tell you I’ll keep him safe while you’re gone. It’s sweet. Endearing.

“It won’t.” Din replies quietly, to which his voice then whispers I love you across your bond. Your heart nearly explodes with how gentle it is, how he chose now to tell you again after so long of having not heard it. There’s a newfound strength coursing through your body as you turn towards the doors and call to Fennec to open them. “Be safe, Sarad.”

“I will.”

As someone who usually calls on the Light Side of the Force, you’re oddly coaxed to the lingering darkness in the hallways of the Cruiser. You’ve never allowed yourself to fall like the Sith do. You’d had every reason to do so over the years, and yet you never did.

It occurs to you as you make your final stand alone that the only reason you never fell was because you found the baby.

Oh Force...

The metallic footsteps of the dark troopers ring in your ears as you stand vigil before the doors to the room that contains your family. Your aliit.

Forgive me.

“Go on then!” You yell, hoping your voice will carry through the hallways in which they are following to lead themselves to you. “What, are you afraid of a Jedi? I’ve bested the dark, I’ve survived two wars and a mass genocide! Nothing can break me!” You twirl your wrists in the usual jar’kai motions and settle yourself into your favorite defense position. “I’m ready! Are you??”

Outside the main viewport, a lone X-Wing flies within view with the hangar as its destination.

Your head falls to your chest. I’m calling on you... Be with me. The steps grow closer, the anticipation of their lethal capabilities thrumming in your veins. Be with me.

The first dark troopers circle the hall. You peer out of the alcove in which you’re hiding, position yourself in the middle of the platoon, and lift your head towards the ceiling.

Din watches from the surveillance array as the first squad of dark troopers begins trembling. The metal crumbles beneath the weight of your Force grip. “Sarad-” He whispers, fingertips ghosting the screen as he watches the troopers turn in your direction and set their targeting systems on you. “Sarad.”

Be with me.

Unaware of the other Force User who’s just landed in the hangar, your head snaps upward and your instincts kick in as your sabers begin moving of their own accord. You are not the one moving with such grace, such poise, years of training in desert sands with a man who’s constantly dancing with his ghosts.

You are not you. You are simply The Force.

Blue collides with obsidian. Further down the hall, Grogu watches on the surveillance as his buir and the Jedi he’s called upon move to meet each other half way.

Before you reach the newcomer, you’re nearly knocked off your feet by the way his presence radiates in The Force as you clench your hands into a fist and send the last Dark Trooper slamming into the wall.

“No way.” The two of you snap upward to meet each other’s gaze. It’s been years since you’ve seen that familiar face - the same familiar face you’d spent so many nights with training in the forests, the same face that had always softened as the two of you traded stories about your pasts and the Jedi who’d trained you - and it’s a welcome sight that this happens to be the Jedi that your ad’ika had called upon on Tython. “Luke?”

The newcomer throws his hood back to meet your eyes.

“Y/N.”

***

During

Buir. Grogu watches the surveillance screen as you and Luke join one another in the elevator. There’s one small platoon left that’s come from a separate hallway that the two of you can eliminate without barely lifting a finger.

The powerful two Jedi can radiate. It’s cosmic.

It’s alluring. Mesmerizing. A flurry of blue and green weaving between one another as each individual dark trooper is reduced to a pile of smoking metal. Din watches Grogu where he stands, little hand planted on the surveillance screen as the two of you emerge together from the elevator.

“Remarkable.” Din whispers, because it is. The way that the two of you fight is almost like you were born to do it together, to fight with one another and as one another.

The last dark trooper crumbles under Luke’s grasps. When he passes by the camera, Grogu turns to his father and tips his ears back before whining for Din to lift him up.

“Open the doors.”

Din tries not to laugh at the utter indignation on Fennec’s face as he cradles the baby’s neck in his hands, moving around the bounty hunter to stand before the blast doors. He knows they’re safe when you’re standing on the other side of it.

The crowd watches as the newcomer follows on your heels through the smoke left in the wake of your destruction, and the two of you both remove your hoods to acknowledge them.

“Mandalorian.”

“Is he... A Jedi? Like you?”

Luke, ever the civil, folds his hands across his stomach and nods. “Yes.” He says quietly, green eyes softening as the baby peers around the edge of the chair to look at his buir and the man who has answered his call. “Come, little one.”

Grogu looks to Din, and then to you. You can hear his question as clear as day inside your mind.

Are you ready to let me go?

And in that moment, everything comes crashing down in front of you. He’s asking for your permission to go with Luke. He’s asking for the permission of the woman who’d saved him and the man who’d taken it upon himself to keep him safe, to raise him, to let him go with the other Jedi in order to be properly trained. Maker knew you couldn’t do it.

“He doesn’t want to go with you.”

Goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye, my love

“He wants your permission. Both of you.” Luke’s voice breaks through your reverie as you hang your sabers on the belt that’s swung low across your hips. This child has been your livelihood, your reason for breathing, since the year following the genocide of the Jedi. Since you lost your world.

And it seems like you’re about to lose it again.

I can’t hide

I can’t hide what has come

“He is strong in the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect The Child, but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.” Unfortunately for you, Luke knows you so well that he can feel the weighed projection of your feelings that emanate from you like a flare within the darkness, which is what prompts you to gently usher you towards Din.

“Hey, go on. This is who you belong with. He-He’s one of your kind.”

I have to go

I have to go... and leave you alone...

“I’ll see you again. I promise.”

Wide, innocent eyes flicker between you and Din before Grogu is reaching up, ever the gentle, to press his hand against his helmet. This would be the first and most likely the only time the baby has ever seen Din’s real face.

You flash a questioning look at the man you love. Then, without question, he wraps his fingers around the bottom of the helmet and slowly lifts it off.

The beskar clang resounds within the bridge.

But always know

Always know... Always know

That I love you so..

Your heart has begun to bleed just by watching this exchange. Din has gone so much of his life without knowing what love was, how gentle people were capable of being. That had all changed when The Child had healed The Mandalorian’s lonely heart. It had never been you. It was him who healed you both.

Din’s lips quiver as Grogu presses his hand to a bare cheek. Your tears are becoming harder to keep at bay, and with the sudden tightness in your chest, you’re suddenly finding it incredibly difficult to breathe. Nevermind the fact that the room has suddenly begun spinning.

‘’Alright, pal. It’s time to go.” Din said quietly. You aren’t entirely sure if he's talking to himself, to you, or to Grogu. “Don’t be afraid.”

Everything around you is muted. Numb. Like your body is trying to fight a shock that you haven’t experienced since Order 66.

Buir. A tiny whisper, echoing in the back of your mind as a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. A flash of a child’s cry echoes in your ears as a blonde woman hands a baby into the arms of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the very man who had taken it upon himself to raise you. Safe. That whisper grows into the voice of your son. Your son is staring at you over Din’s shoulder and desperately trying to call your attention as your world comes crashing at your feet. Buir is safe.

That’s what he means. Since you’re not going to be looking over your shoulder and sleeping with one eye open anymore just because he’s in the same vicinity as you - such a powerful being inside this tiny body - now, you are safe for the first time since The Empire fell.

The fact Grogu puts your safety over his own makes your heart break.

“You’re losing a child.” It’s Bo-Katan’s voice that brings you back to reality. The gentle and foreign tone she’s using is enough to jar you and bring your focus back to the matter at hand: It’s time for Grogu to be with his- your people. “It’s alright to grieve.”

It is, but you can’t. Not right now.

You stumble forward and wipe at your eyes as you press your front to Din’s back. He’s very clearly overwhelmed by the loss of the baby, but that doesn’t stop him from nodding in thanks to Luke.

Goodbye, sunshine

Goodbye for now

Your anguish is replaced by a split second of joy as Grogu looks at you, waddles forward to cradle your leg against himself and say i love you through his Force Bond before he’s turning in the direction of the astromech who’s just rolled into view.

“May The Force Be With You.” But before Luke walks into that elevator, he casts one last look at you. It’s the same look he gave you before you’d left to make a life for yourself. To be your own person outside of the legacy of the Jedi that you’d been brought up in. “I’m offering you the same opportunity I did when you left, Y/N. You can help me in training The Child with the new Jedi Order I intend to build. There are many young Force Sensitives to find.” He holds out his free hand and tries to hide his smile as R2 beeps his approval. “A new world. Would you like to be a part of it?”

Through your Force Bond, you clearly feel Din’s heart drop right into his stomach and his chest tighten as reality hits him: You and the baby may be leaving him together. That would leave him alone for the first time in several years.. and Din doesn’t remember what he was like before he met the two of you, before he loved the two of you.

He doesn’t want to go back to being a ghost.

“I left you for a reason, Luke.” And just like that, the infamous Mandalorian masks his shock as you step backward and right into his hold, maneuvering your arm so as to take his hand within yours. “And I have no intention to leave my aliit. Not this time.”

Luke nods. It’s all he can do. “Very well. As I said, May The Force Be With You.’’

Grogu looks at the two of you as Luke carries him into the elevator.

Goodbye, brown eyes

Take care of yourself

It is so difficult to keep your composure as your son watches the two of you disappear from view. Your knees are already trembling by the time Din pulls you into his arms, and when the elevator doors close, you throw your head back against Din’s chest and let out a wail that shatters the silence following their departure as the two of you sink to the floor.

I have to go.. and leave you alone

But always know that I love you so

Din’s split second decision comes as he buries his face in your hair and whispers as gently as he is able, “Marry me.”

I love you so

Your eyes snap open to meet his own. Tear filled onyx meets your gaze as you cradle his face in your hands and kiss him - once, twice, three times until he’s open and begging and desperate for more of you - before pulling away to envelop him in the tightest embrace possible.

Oh... he’s so wholly and wonderfully yours.

“Yes.”

***

After

Bo-Katan approaches you as you stand in Slave One, knees brought to your chest and chin resting upon them as she kneels in front of you. You and Din haven’t said a word since you boarded the ship, and it’s a needed silence. You must have time to process your losses.

Why did I have to let him go?

“That pendant.” Bo-Katan whispers. “That pendant used to be in my family, Clan Kryze.” The former Princess of Mandalore tilts her head as your gaze remained focused on the cargo hold, eyes vacant as she continues. “It was mine. That pendant was mine and eventually passed to my sister, Satine. You know about Mandalore before the Empire, you know about Kenobi, you know about The Force.”

Your eyes slowly shift to hers.

“And?”

“I don’t think you’re from some backwater planet. I think you were born on Mandalore,” Her eyes soften, the first time you’ve seen her show any kind of humanity in the entire escapade since leaving the Cantina. You didn’t think she was capable of it. “I think Kenobi raised you wherever he ended up, and I think he was your Master. I think you are Mandalorian, little one.” Bo-Katan stands to her feet and hesitates for a brief moment before resting her hand against your head. “But I don’t know. I never will.”

Your entire body sags into her touch.

“Bo-Katan-”

“Be peaceful, little Jedi.” She stops before turning to look at you over her shoulder, flashing the faintest smile - one you swear you’ve seen before - before returning to her spot beside Koska.

Your eyes flutter as you fall asleep.

***

The End

In the quietness of a little room in an inn on Nevarro, he asks you again.

“What is the hardest part about letting go?”

And this time, you have an answer.

“The hardest part about letting go is knowing they’re somewhere out there in the world, away from you, and you still love them. Love them so deeply and so much that it hurts you to be away from them.” You trace the contours of his exhausted aspect, lightly poking the end of his nose just to see the toothy and bashful smile he flashes in response, and prop your head on your hand as you lightly trace his bicep with steady fingers. “You wanna know what the best thing to do is before you inevitably must let them make their own way?” Din hums his acknowledgement and opens his eyes to meet your own. “You love them. You love him..” You exhale slowly on a sigh and lean inward to press your lips to his forehead.

Din sinks into your hold and allows you to cradle his head to your chest. You bury your face in his hair and reach into your shirt to reveal the owl pendant.

“And you hope it’s enough.”

Hm. Maybe one day you’ll have the courage to tell her.

One day.

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x You #The Mandalorian x Y/N #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots #The Mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian fanfic

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blackhakumen · 4 years ago

Text

Mini Fanfic #791: Wrath of the Certified Moms (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

4:23 p.m. at Smash Mansion's Dining Hall......

It was quiet and Intense afternoon at the Mansion of Smash as everyone hides away and watch an unfazed Kazuya have himself a conversation with the Certified Moms Squads, who are not very happy with him at the point.

Peach: Mr. Kazuya. (Crosses Her Arms in a Not Pleased Yet Professional Like Manner) I take it that you are wondering why we wanted to talk to you at this very moment, yes?

Kazuya: No. I don't actually. But since we're here.....(Slams Two of his Feet On the Table One By One) Let's talk.

Samus: What the hell are you doing?

Kazuya: (Raised an Eyebrow at the Bounty Hunter Glaring at Him) Pardon?

Daisy: (Glares at Kazuya as Well) You heard the lady, buster. Why the hell do you have your crumby feet on the table!?

Kazuya: What? Am I not supposed to do that here or something?

Rosalina: (Simply Nodded) That is right. It's very rude and thoughtless.

Isabella: Not to mention unsanitary.

Tifa: This might be our first time meeting one another.....(Glares at Kazuya Harsh) But I know for a fact that you weren't raised on a damn farm.

Samus: Exactly. So if you know what's good for you going forward....(Starts Gritting her Teeth) We suggest you take your feet off the fucking table. Right now.

Kazuya: (Starts at the Glaring for a Brief Second Before Scoffing a Bit in Defeat as He Reluctantly Did What He Was Told) There. Happy?

Samus: (Glare Pierce Harder at the Man) Very.

Peach: ('Sigh') Now with that out of the way, Mr. Kazuya, after you fought Ganondorf and threw him off a cliff, is it true that you tried to do the same to Pit and Kirby afterwards?

Kazuya: What? You mean the Angel Boy and Pink Puffball? ('Heh') Yeah. I did. What of it?

Palutena: (Immediately Gets Up and Angrily Slams her Hands on the Table) ('SLAM') WHAT OF IT!? YOU ALMOST KILLED MY BABY, YOU MURDEROUS PIECE OF-

Bayonetta: (Immediately Got Up and Place Her Hands on Palutena's Shoulders to Calm her Down) Paulie dear, please. Calm yourself.

Tifa: (Gently Place her Hand on Top of Palutena's) Bayo's right. Don't let him get to you like this.

Palutena: How can you all expect me to be calm in a time like that!? (Tears Starts Falling Down on her Face) Have you forgotten what that bastard done to Pit!?

Peach: (Turns Around to Palutena with a Worried yet Understanding Frown on her Face) We understand how you feel completely, dear. Which is all the more reasons why you should let me do all the talking. You do trust us, right?

Palutena: Of course I do. ('Sniff') You girls are my family...('Sniff') I just....I just can't help not being upset, you know?

Bayonetta: (Gently Pulls Palutena into a Loving Hug) I know, my sweet, beautiful goddess. I know. But we all need to pull ourselves together and get Peach handle this. For our babies sake.

Palutena begins to looks up and see Pit, Kirby, and the Phantom Thieves hiding behind the living room's wall, witnessing everything going down in the dining hall.

Palutena: (Sighs While Finally Calming Herself Down) Right. I do need to pull myself together. (Turns to Pit While Quietly Saying 'I Love You' to Him With a Sad Smile Before Sitting Back Down)

Pit: (Smiles Softly) I love you too, mom

Kazuya: (Suddenly Starts to Chuckle Evilly For Almost Everyone in the Mansion to Hear)

Peach: (Raised an Eye Brow at Kazuya in a Very Unamused Manner) Something's funny to you, Kazuya?

Kazuya: Yes, actually. Here I thought participating in this kind of tournament would be somewhat interesting. I'd never imagined how pathetically soft amd weak minded all of you really are. But I suppose be too shouldn't be surprised by the outcome, since you have an embarrassment of a tyrant king and an annoying puffball as one of your competitors.

Ganondorf: (Growling Angry at Kazuya from the Distance With the Other League of Villains Members)

Kazuya: And worthless angel boy of yours was easily the weakest of them all that it's laughable at best.

Pit starts to frown sadly by Kazuya's words until Ren place a hand onto his shoulder while giving him a reassuring look that feels him to not to believe a single word he says. This, in it if itself, actually helps calm the angel down immensely.

Kazuya: Hell, he's better off being dead if any-

'CRASH'

Without a second thought, Peach angrily punched down the table I front of her, the ladies, and Kazuya so hard that it crumbles to the ground, easily breaking it into small, tiny pieces, much everyone's surprise and shock.

Bowser: Holy........

Samus: ........Shit........

Ryuji: (From the Living Room) EXCLAMATION MARK!!!!

Kazuya: (Starts Smirking at the Angered Princess While Being Unfazed by the Sudden Event) What's this now? Did I do finally struck a nerve, your highness?

Peach: (Immediately Grabs Kazuya By the Collar While Giving the Most Darkest, Piercing Glare Imaginable, Even For Her) Listen here, you insufferable, arrogant creep! I don't what made you the way you are right now, and frankly, I don't give a single damn about it at this point! All you need to know that if you're planning on continuing to set foot in this mansion, you don't EVER insult my babies and harm my family ever again! YOU HEAR ME!?

Daisy: (Immediately Got Up to Calm Peach Down) Woah there, cuz. Take it easy for us, okay?

Samus: (Got Up and Calm Peach Down as Well) Daisy's right, Peach. He's not worth the trouble at this point......

Peach looks back and forth the girls and Kazuya for a few seconds before finally calming herself down.

Peach: ('Sighs in Defeat') Okay......(Finally Let's Go of Kazuya) I suppose I should apologize for what happened just now. It wasn't lady like of me.

Daisy: (Chuckles Lightly) Are you kidding me? That was most badass thing I've ever seen yet! (Happily Hugs Peach) And it was all caused by my favorite cuz~

Peach: (Giggles Softly) I'm your only cousin, Daisy.

Samus: Yeah I'm gonna have to agree with Daisy this on. (Smirks a bit Playfully at Peach) I did not expect you to be this hardcore. I'm proud. Though, I think we might need to replace that table in a little bit.

Peach: (Giggles Softly Some More) I know. Thanks, you guys.

Kazuya: (Watches the Trio While Fixing his Collar and Shirt) ('Tch') Knew I should've ignored them if I had the chance.......

Peach: Kazuya Mishima!

Kazuya: (Turns Back to Peach) Yeah? What?

Peach: (Crosses her Arms While Glaring Darkly at Kazuya Again) Remember this well: If I EVER hear you pulled this stunt again, I will NOT hesitate to kick you out of this mansion and ban you from ever taking part of this tournament! Do you understand me!?

Kazuya was able to say something to the princess until his eyes suddenly begins to widened, as he comes to the realization that Peach's glare is starting to remind him of a woman from past. Who happens to be his deceased mother, Kazumi Mishima. It wasn't too long until he suddenly begins to get down on his knees and bow himself down to the princess in a traditional like manner, much everyone complete surprise.

Kazuya: I apologise for my foolish actions. It will never happen again.....

Peach: (Couldn't Believe What She's Seeing in Front of Her) Oh my.......I-I Mean! (Starts Clearing Her Throat Before Turning Away From the Fallen Man) As long as you got message, we'll hold you to it. Let's go, ladies. (Begins to Walks Away with Other Ladies Following Her)

Palutena gives one last harsh glare at Kazuya before walking away with the others. Leaving him to his lonesome self altogether. (While Still Being in a Bowing like Position).

Meanwhile.....

Bowser: (Eyes Widened After Witnessing Everything That Went Down Just Now) Well.........That happened?

Hades: (Starts Snicking) I know, right? Who would've thought the Devil Boy got whipped so easily?

Sephiroth: (Carrying Pichu in his Arms) I'm more surprise on how strong the princess has gotten. Mario's a lucky man.

Bowser: ('Tch') (Crosses his Arms While Looking Away) Yeah. Lucky jackass, bastard.....

Ganondorf: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ridley: (Turns to Ganondorf) What gotten you in a good mood?

Ganondorf: Seeing this warm grovelling on the floor! (Crosses his Arms While Smirking Evilly and Triumphantly) Knew he wasn't shit from the beginning.

Ridley: But didn't he still beat you and threw you off a cliff?

Ganondorf: (Slowly Turns to Ridley with a Deadpinned Glare) Do you want me throw you off a cliff instead, Ridley?

Ridley: ('Sigh') No.......

Bowser: (Looking at Kazuya Shaking Slightly in the Ground From a Distance) Uhh....Guys? I think the new guy's crying over here. Saying about missing his mom or whatever.....

Hades: Ah yeah. Forgot to mention this sooner, but his mom died when he was little. Just found that one out when I was reading his inner thoughts earlier. So.....oops.

Sephiroth: The loss of a loving mother is never an easy feeling. He has my pity.

Pichu: (Nodded in Agreement) Pika. Pi.

Ganondorf: ('Scoffs') He can cry about her all he wants. (Starts Walking Away) He'll no sympathy from me.

Elsewhere in the Fitness Gym.......

Ike: (Paused his Training Session For a Moment) Hm?......... (Shrugs Before Resuming his Workout)

@keyenuta

@princekirijo

@caleb13frede

@cyber-wildcat

@26shann

@ma-lemons

@albion-93

34 notes · View notes

bellesque · 5 years ago

Text

Respite

The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary:

There are three things the Mandalorian can’t have at the same time, or at all:

An excursion with the kid.

No one tracking him.

A brief window for him to let his guard down.

In other words: peace.

But maybe, just for one day... he can.

Read on AO3.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Daddy Din, Softness, Light Angst like it’s barely there, me just trying to make things make sense just shhh ignore science and some canon for the fluff

A/N: yes, i couldn’t help myself. oops. y’all know i’ve been obsessing over this show lately, lemme just ease into writing for mando too okay okay great

- - - - - - - - - -

So. Holding a little baby ball of green wrapped in scratchy brown wool was not something you thought you’d be doing today.

Not that you plan your days particularly. No, but you had some idea of how it would go. Tinker a little at the shop, maybe bargain with the offworld Jawas outside the city. Come back home for a bite to eat and then maybe tinker some more.

Cruise through hyperspace, this baby with the hugest fucking eyes in your arms? Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought this is what you’d end up doing.

His pointy ears perk skyward as he stares up at you, cooing softly in question. Shit, what does it want? Does it need anything? You’re not exactly sure what you’re supposed to—

“Put the kid down.”

Maker, your heart almost jumps out of your chest. The modulated voice isn’t angry. It’s not impatient, but it’s not patient either. It’s quiet at the same time loud enough for you to hear through the iron that encases it. It’s stoic, emotionless, intimidating…

Fucking scary is what it is. Is what he is.

You’ve heard the stories. About the Mandalorian as a people. To see one? Be in the same ship as one?

Well, if you were back home, you’d be considered a legend just alongside them actually.

You bounce the baby gingerly, so minutely it’s almost like you don’t move your arms at all. Maker, you’re confused. You don’t know what it is, why it looks aged at the same time so adorable, and you don’t know what it needs.

Which brings you back to the Mandalorian, whom you’ve known for approximately—oh, about an hour or so now, and his change in verbal directive. “I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. Put him down.”

Who are you, really, to argue with him? All things considered, it’s his ship, his rules, and his baby. Apparently.

There’s no way he’d be all green and bug-eyed underneath all that armor right?

You ignore the burning question that stations itself on the tip of your tongue, instead bending down to set the baby on its feet on the metal floor of the Razor Crest. The baby coos again, wobbling its way towards the pilot chair where its dad sits.

Stars, how is it so fucking cute?

You’re a little too intrigued by the way the baby moves: his whole body leans heavily towards one side with every waddle forward. Slow, purposeful, adorable waddles. It’s amazing how he just doesn’t teeter off too much to one side and fall in a heap of wool and large ears.

The baby manages to soundlessly end up by the Mandalorian’s feet, tugging at him with its stubby three fingers. The Mandalorian’s helmet turns briefly, glancing down at the green creature that helplessly reaches for something too far up the console. Too far for his little grubby hands to reach.

He audibly sighs as he scoops up the baby in one hand, settling it onto his lap while it continues to make grabby hands at something.

“I meant the pram.”

“O-oh,” is the only pathetic thing you can say. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but it stubbornly makes its way into your system anyway. This wasn’t a job you signed up for. In fact, you don’t know exactly why you’re here. The Mandalorian simply looked you up and down after you made a few repairs to his ship, and asked quite bluntly, “You good with a blaster?”

You blinked, twice, just enough time for your mind to catch up and process what he just asked. “I’m sorry?”

“Can you shoot?”

“Um.” Eloquent. “I’ve tried, a couple times, bu-but—”

He expertly threw the blaster rifle at you, which you struggled to catch perfectly. Him, as intimidating as ever, jerked his head to the side. “Shoot,” he said simply, raising a gloved hand to point at a canister several feet away. “Right there.”

And you did. By beginner’s luck, the canister split open.

Which, for some Maker-forsaken reason, warrants your presence on this ship. Are you a babysitter? His… partner for a day? Extra help? Maintenance? You had one job: tune up his Razor Crest. That’s it. You should be back home. Tinkering. Fixing. Bargaining.

But you’re here. A backdrop to a mysterious bounty hunter and his equally mysterious baby.

“I can put him in the crib,” you offer a little nervously.

The Mandalorian says nothing. He sits, stoic and silent in the pilot’s chair, the baby cooing periodically in his lap as he plays with the tiny metal ball the Mandalorian hands him. You swallow. He doesn’t even have to look at you for your palms to start sweating.

And it doesn’t help your rising nerves that you don’t know why you’re here. You’re not a quarry—right? Oh, shit, is there any way you could be and you just don’t know it?

To venture forward and say something, or continue to stand several feet behind him in silence. Have your questions answered, or just wait until he deems it the right time to provide you with them. It’s a mental battle that has you chewing on your lip and glancing skittishly at the glowing buttons around you.

Eventually your nerves win out, unable to take the quiet that stretches out seemingly into lightyears. “Um. So… what do you… need me to do?”

The Mandalorian takes a beat to respond. He presses a few buttons on the console, and mutters a curt, “Hold onto something.”

You’re glad for your quick reflexes, because as soon as he says so your fingers latch onto the nearest metal bar just as you lurch forward in hyperjump. The impact leaves you a little dizzy, swaying on your feet as you struggle to regain your bearings when you exit hyperspace.

He swivels to face you, standing from his seat and regarding you with… subtle interest, maybe? Or maybe he’s just amused at how you’re still swaying in your spot.

The baby fits snugly into the crook of his arm, and the image of this broad man covered head to toe in beskar with the tiniest little thing tucked into the bend of his elbow is so bizarre that you physically have to bite back a question: Are you green too?

“I need you to cover me,” he says eventually. The baby gurgles and looks up at the metal visor. “Just for today.”

“Cover you how?”

His helmet tips down as he glances at the baby in his arm. “Make sure no one’s following me. If you see someone, shoot.”

“Now hold on,” you interrupt. Finally you’ve regained your balance, and apparently, your voice. “I only shot that canister once.”

His pauldron lifts as he shrugs with one shoulder. “Once is enough.”

“I don’t think I can get lucky a second time.”

“Look,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that quells the arguments forming in your throat. Desperation, maybe? Just a hint? A little urgent, a little… pleading? It’s a little hard to decipher, between the general lack of emotional lilt in his voice and the synthetic warp of his helmet. “I can pay you. Handsomely. Just watch my back, only for today, and I’ll take you home right after.”

You consider it—well, not like your consideration changes anything. You’re already on this forsaken ship, hurtling towards who-knows-where, so might as well. A little extra something never hurt anyone. Especially you.

You need the credits. Bad. The shop’s been struggling a little, and if you’re being honest, having the Mandalorian come in was the best thing to happen to you financially in weeks.

Okay. Okay, maybe you could do this. Watch his back. Just for today, like he said. You nod, mostly to convince yourself rather than to affirm him. “Okay,” you say aloud. You watch as the Mandalorian descends the ladder with one arm, still cradling the baby in the other. “So where are we going? A bounty, maybe? Someone who needs some good Mandalorian-style telling off?”

It surprises you entirely when you land on the Forest Moon of Endor.

Really, there’s nothing here. Except for Ewoks. You have absolutely no clue, no idea what could possibly attract the Mandalorian to this place.

Except maybe, you think as the baby stumbles through the lush forest as fast as its little legs can take it—maybe this is why.

The Mandalorian hasn’t whisked you off to some exciting, gunslinging adventure. Not a bargain, or a job.

He’s brought you here for a day of nothing.

Granted, it’s not like you’re actually a part of it. You’re an awkward, outside-looking-in kind of spectator, eyes flitting nervously from vine to vine and grip tightening on the blaster whenever you hear even the slightest snap or crunch of nature. The gentle breeze carries the light laughter of the baby to your vicinity, and he holds your attention before your eyes focus on his guardian (dad?) a few meters away.

He’s… quiet. As usual. But for some reason, despite the seemingly impenetrable fortress of beskar and your inability to get a read on him, you can just tell, clear as day. It’s a soft sort of silence.

The chrome visor is undeniably trained on the little green baby as it chases after something that crawls on the grassy earth. The sky is a dusty blue, painting shadows over the Mandalorian and his tiny companion.

Serene. Peaceful.

You don’t know how long it takes until your tense muscles begin to relax from the calmness of Endor. Your breathing evens out and you set the blaster on your lap as you sit yourself on a large rock. It’s… nice. No pressure. Just a day with a kid and his dad doing absolutely nothing.

Peaceful.

While your body loosens up, the Mandalorian continues to stand across from you in soft stoicism. Based on his body language, his fight-or-flight response isn’t at the fore, but it’s ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice.

But he’s, for the most part, present. Watching. Observing. Admiring, if the gentle tilt of his helmet is any indication.

You wonder, fleetingly, what it must be like to be him. To follow in the ways of the Mandalore. What he has to give up, what he has to live with.

His helmet snaps up to look straight at you. You jump.

He walks over to you in long strides, and you can’t help but feel like prey. Maker, he could have a smile on his face, could be the least intimidating person in all the galaxy—but the way he walks, all bulk and purpose, makes you feel like a rabbit in a snare.

You nod your head in the general direction of the baby, hating the way your heart thumps loudly against your sternum when he approaches. “So. Endor? For this?”

“Yes.” He moves to stand next to the giant boulder you’re perched on, holding his posture straight as ever. Your eyes flicker from his helmet to his chest plate, and this time your questions burst at the seams.

“Isn’t that heavy?” you blurt.

His head tilts slowly to face you, and you hastily turn yours away. Your cheeks burn. Scary. Fucking scary.

“Y-your armor.” He doesn’t have to say anything. Somehow with the look he’s giving you, shielded at the same time piercing, gets your mouth moving. Like a bounty trying to negotiate. You can’t look at him. You can’t. You’ve made a fool of yourself, asking such a dumb, rhetorical question that continues to hang in the air. “I-I was asking, if—if—”

“The beskar becomes a part of a Mandalorian. It’s worn with pride.” There’s a pause, and you can see in your peripheral that he frees you from the weight of his gaze and returns it to the giggling child. “But. Sometimes.”

You nod in short, slow jerks, trying to empathize with him. “You ever take it off?”

“No. Not in front of people, at least.”

“Even the helmet?”

“Especially the helmet.”

You’re pushing it. Testing the limits, the boundaries of his silence. For all you know he could snap like a twig from your probing.

… Maybe one more.

“But why?”

The Mandalorian exhales, his chest visibly expanding and compressing as the sound seeps out of the modulator, long and drawn out like the silences you’ve spent with him. “This is the Way,” he murmurs.

The Way. The tone in his voice, though barely noticeable thanks to the filter, is enough to remind you that he is a man underneath all that metal. You feel a little… bad for him. Covered head to toe in armor, never able to take it off.

So you kick off the rock, without a real solid plan in mind, and hold out your palm to the Mandalorian.

He cocks his head to the side. You imagine he’s giving you the wariest of looks inside the metal that sheaths him. “What?”

“I’m going to go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, I’ll scout or whatever it is you call it. Just—what is it—secure? Yeah, that. And you,” you glance around, searching for the baby, “are going to get some downtime alone.”

He visibly tenses, and the stark contrast of his hardness and the thriving, dancing foliage amuses you just a little. Cracks that hard shell of intimidation you held for him moments ago.

“The kid—”

“I’ll look after him,” you cut in. Maker, he’s so protective over the little bean. You wonder what this bounty hunter had to go through with him to warrant such concern. “It’s why I’m here, right?”

You can tell he’s considering it. Just when you think he’s going to accede, however:

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll fire two warning shots into the sky if anything happens,” you promise. Your mind’s working a mile a minute—stars, you don’t know why you want to help him, ease whatever burden he faces—but you try to come up with solutions and answers where you’re able. “I’ll skirt this perimeter, far from you. I’m handy with a blaster, remember?” You hold it up for emphasis. “And, and—you can stay on the ship. Or in a super secluded corner, I’ll slip you some food and you can take off your helmet—”

“Stay here with the kid.”

“Huh?”

He takes a step backward. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

The Mandalorian disappears into the dense woodland without another word.

The baby gurgles at your feet, gripping the hem of your pant leg as it looks up at you once again. Imploringly, almost as if to ask, Up?

You scoop him up into your arms and sit back down on the boulder. “Think your daddy’s gonna have a good time on his own?” You scratch his ears, his eyelids drooping into inky semicircles at your actions. You soften. “You’re cute. No wonder he likes you.”

You get the feeling he doesn’t like anyone else as much.

It’s well and truly dark when the Mandalorian comes back.

The evening creatures have started up their symphony to welcome the night, a gentle accompaniment to the rustling of the leaves and the faint, distant gush of water. The baby slept in your lap for a bit as you battled your own stupor, and he woke up with an energetic babble to continue exploring the small patch of forested, open space the Mandalorian landed you in.

He doesn’t scare you as much when he comes back. Maybe it’s the way he walks, a little less battle-ready and a little more eased, or because you’ve gotten past that image of him just being some steel-plated bounty hunter. Either way, you greet him with a smile.

“Okay?”

He nods, one short dip of his head. “Thank you. For taking care of him.” He turns to watch the baby attempt to catch something that… most probably isn’t there. “I’ve secured the area. Scanner says there’s no one here but us for another thousand mile radius.”

“That’s good to know.” You rise to your feet. “Ready to head back?”

“Actually,” he starts, the word dragging slow and easy, “I was thinking we could head back tomorrow.”

Well. That certainly surprises you.

“It’s… nice here,” he admits quietly, almost like he doesn’t want to say it. But you understand. Sitting in silence here in one of the less populated parts of Endor has been therapeutic for your soul. You didn’t realize how hectic your daily life back home truly was: fast-paced, requiring you to be two steps ahead to survive. Here, you’re able to be free from the need to stay on your toes, even just for a moment. Maybe the baby’s carefree energy is contagious, but being here, alone with him, has already done wonders for the invisible weight on your shoulders.

“It is,” you agree. One contemplative inhale; two more. Should you ask? Maybe you shouldn’t.

Ah, fuck it.

“So… since we’re staying one night,” you swallow, “do you want to, maybe, watch the suns rise?”

Mando looks at you. At least, you think he does. The hard lines of his helmet make you feel that his personality is the same way: sharp, cutting—he’s probably the type of guy who always looks people in the eye. You imagine he’s looking straight into yours. He stays like this, still as a statue, while you make it a point not to buckle from the attention. You wish you knew what he was thinking, how he was looking at you. Just to know if you’ve missed the mark and suggested something downright preposterous.

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax after an excruciating, lengthy moment. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

You breathe out a soundless sigh of relief, wind you didn’t realize you were holding gushing out of your lungs, and you beam weakly at him. “Okay. Great.”

“Get in the ship. We can rest a bit, get up in time for the suns to rise over the horizon. Then I can take you home.”

Ah. Home. Something inside you sinks at the thought as you climb into the cockpit, pulling you back to the harsh reality that your life is. Surviving. Working. It’s not that you don’t love what you do, it’s just… this is such a welcome reprieve. You aren’t exactly ready for it to end, even though this trip wasn’t meant for you at all.

At least both of you are on the same page.

You and Mando make camp on a relatively open field on a ridge that overlooks Endor’s teeming lush vegetation. Not much is different here, it’s still trees and plants and earth, but with the baby’s giant bug eyes full of wonder and zeal, it’s as if you’ve landed somewhere else.

A small fire crackles to life, and Mando throws a branch into the flickering flames. He settles back on his haunches and you sit cross-legged next to him.

There’s really just. Something about him. Something that intrigues you, pulls you in just enough, not too close to the fortress he’s built for himself but still, close enough for you to want to know more. You have questions. Still, so many. You gaze at the chrome visor, the fire’s reflection dancing off it in steady flickers.

Steady. Controlled. The possibility of bursting into a large, engulfing wildfire ever-present. You wonder if that’s him—if the Mandalorian is like fire.

“You should get some sleep,” he says after a while, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the peace that blankets both of you. “You look tired.”

Right on cue, you stifle a yawn. You couldn’t exactly take a nap and watch over the baby, and it’s beginning to take its toll on you. “What about you? You gonna sleep?”

“Maybe.”

Silence. The embers glow within the logs, a pretty, warm orange that makes you vaguely remember the suns you’ve seen before on other star systems. It coaxes you into a state of relaxation, your heartbeat slowing and your eyelids growing heavy. The walls you put up for yourself crumble just the slightest as you let your guard down. Just a little. Perhaps the fire has the same effect on him. What are the odds of him humoring you with another answer?

“Do you… sleep with it on?”

One second drags into many more. The fire crackles. The crickets chirp. The baby gurgles.

“Mostly.”

You don’t pry further. There it is again, crawling up your gut, that mild feeling of secondhand guilt coupled with a little secondhand sadness. And just very steadily creeping in at the edges—the inexplicable need to give him a taste of something he’s probably haven’t had in a long time.

“I can sleep out here. With the baby. You can sleep in the ship, so you can…” The tail end of your statement goes unfinished, fading out into just another crackle of the fire.

But he understands. There’s a weight in this silence this time, pulled with gratitude and perhaps a little awe. You don’t consider yourself a believer in the Force, but. You can feel the wave of subtle relief that radiates from him. Like… like no one’s asked before, and he’s too honorable to ask for something like some time to himself.

“Thank you.”

Your chin dips forward, the same time you feel your cheeks warming—from the fire or something else entirely. You don’t exactly want to name it. “You’re welcome.”

A pause. “Will you… be okay?”

“Tough girl like me?” You give him a sleepy half-smile. “I’ll manage.”

You think you’ve just gotten used to him, acclimatized to the way he keeps you at arm’s length simultaneously trying to maintain a certain degree of chivalry—but what you think you know of him is tossed completely out the window when he stands and pats you on the shoulder.

It’s brief. Just a second, nothing more; casual in itself yet somehow it holds the weight of a star system. To you, at least. The Mandalorian are warriors. They should not know softness… but they do. This one does.

He retreats into the safety of the Razor Crest, his silhouette fading into nothing more than a shiny glint, but the mystery of him shines brighter in your mind’s eye than ever before.

∎∎∎∎∎∎

“Mando. Hey, Mando. I can call you that, right?”

You bounce the baby on your hip, significantly more confident in your movements than you were yesterday. He’s taken a liking to you, you think. He lights up with giggles when you raise the pitch of your voice and scrunch up your nose to amuse him. You can see why the Mandalorian likes him.

You’re quickly growing fond of the little womp rat too.

The Mandalorian straightens. He looks at you in question. You don’t know how you can tell—you just do.

“Suns’re about to rise. Stop checking that thing and let’s sit down.”

He taps his vambrace a couple more times before his arm drops to his side. “Habit. Don’t come crying for help if there’s an ambush we don’t know about.”

You roll your eyes, scratching the baby’s whiskery forehead. “Sit. C’mon.”

You plop onto the ground for emphasis, and the Mandalorian follows in a far more bulky, yet somehow graceful, manner beside you. Endor is still colored a pale indigo, the first few rays of sunlight barely peeking out from the horizon.

You’ll be quiet this time, you promise yourself. No more prying questions, no more trying to wheedle information out of him. Just peace and quiet, a change of pace from the brutal noise of bounty hunting he’s used to.

“I actually… shouldn’t have done. What I did.”

You wait for him to continue; you get the feeling he’s talking more for his benefit than for yours. He’s not trying to fill the void with needless chatter. This is different.

“Picking you up and taking you away from your job. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. Truthfully, you don’t mind as much as he thinks you do. “I needed a change of scenery. I’m guessing you did too.”

“I did.” He straightens. “But. Still.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Now, you count the seconds until he starts speaking, just to keep your mind from initiating the conversation. You get the idea that if you start talking, asking more questions, saying random things you notice about the changing color of the sky, whatever spell he seems to be under—being freer in his words, the beskar fortress opening just a tiny crack for you—will be broken.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight—

Eight whole seconds.

“I’m not even supposed to be doing this. Staying in one place for too long is… dangerous.”

“For you, or the kid?”

“Both of us.”

“Just a few more minutes,” you encourage lightly. “Until we see the suns completely.”

And there it is, that tip of the strong lines of his helmet dipping low, a finality in the gesture that renders you mute. An acknowledgment. Silence.

Golden beams of light begin to bleed over the tops of the terrain, the trees turning from a shadowed teal to a full forest green. But… slowly. You don’t realize how slow sunrises are until you’re actually watching one. The giant star inches its way up over the sleepy Forest Moon, its second half just barely noticeable and following suit. It’s kind of fun to try and figure out where one sun stops and the other begins.

“It’s been a while,” Mando starts, voice pleasantly low and modulated and throwing you for a loop completely, “since I… last watched a sunrise.”

You pick at the wool covering the baby. “Really? When was the last time?” You bounce the kid to keep him from fidgeting in your lap, a constant rhythm to lull him into a tranquil disposition.

Mando leans back against both his arms, head going to one side in thought. “I was a foundling. I can’t remember much of it—just the feeling. How warm the sun was. Everywhere. It was… it was blinding. I think.”

You gaze at him. The threat of heaviness hangs between you, and you attempt to keep an air of lighthearted conversation before it can drag you down into a pit you’re not quite ready to jump into. “And now? Too many bounties to hunt?”

He turns his gaze to the horizon. “Something like that.”

The morning breeze caresses the tendrils of your hair, fanning out behind you while the baby reaches in vain to capture a tiny insect that flies past.

Stars. Something in his answer shakes you. Not an earth-splitting, roaring kind of shake—it’s a quiet rumble, enough to rouse one who was sleeping. Enough for one to go, “What was that?” and wonder if what they felt was real.

He’s a bounty hunter. He shouldn’t be sitting here, with you—with a kid, for Maker’s sake—watching a sunrise on Endor. All beskar, all tough, he probably fought tooth and nail to survive. He’s probably killed more people than you’ve seen at the shop. His silence is probably calculating after years of hunting. Distrustful of strangers, always strategically two steps ahead. For him, it’s probably killed or be killed. That’s probably second nature, hell, first instinct maybe, for him. Probable. Not fact. Still—you get the feeling you’re not quite off the mark.

But for him to mention the last time he saw a sunrise.

He’s scary. Stoic, emotionless, intimidating…

But he was someone before he put his armor on.

Metal maketh a Mandalorian. But also, not really. Of course there’s more to it. But it’s all you and most see him as: just some metal bounty hunter chasing coin. It’s easy to forget there’s a man underneath, warm and alive and likely just as human. Does he allow a smile underneath his helmet? Does he hold his laugh back, does he let his tears fall freely?

And then somehow, gazing absently at the lazily rising suns, its warmth spilling over the horizon, something guts you. A realization. One not so outrightly jarring, but it hits you with surprising force nonetheless. It wriggles its way to the tip of your tongue, somewhere between a question and a statement that you fight to withhold.

You don’t doubt that he’s seen the sun rise. Has he taken the time out to sit here, like this, and watch? Probably not. But you don’t doubt he’s seen it.

You doubt that he’s seen it since he swore the oath.

The baby brings you back to the present, his gentle grip on your forearm rousing you from your deep thought. You glance at him, and then to the Mandalorian beside you. He’s absolutely set in his seat, still and silent like he always is. You wonder if he’s always been like that. Or if without the helmet, it’s a different story.

You have too much respect for him—fear, yes, but mostly respect—to ask him to take it off with you next to him. So instead, you scoot gingerly, careful not to jostle the baby too much, until you’re sitting with your backs pressed together.

You feel the slightest shift of metal against your hair as the Mandalorian turns his head partially to the side. A silent question.

You’re nervous. You don’t know why the tiny action has your heart thumping. Your fingers pick at the wool once more. When you speak, your voice is small. “I… you can—um, you can. Take off your helmet. I won’t look. Promise.”

The wind whistles in your ears, and you wonder if it carried your voice away. Or if you’ve just insulted him. Oh, Maker, why do you have to be so fucking impulsive—

“The suns are rising here. On this side.”

“I-I know,” you trip, “but you know. Endor. Binary star system, all that. But we’re on the Forest Moon, right? So—so I’ve heard stories that—”

“You want to watch the suns rise.”

You huff, a little exasperated. What exactly are you frustrated about? That he’s deflecting so much? That you’re stammering every two seconds? That you’re trying to do something nice but you feel it’s going completely over his stupid metal head?

You exhale and try again. Sure enough, climbing inch by inch, another celestial body begins to rise up into your eyeline. “They say Endor—the planet, I mean—sometimes acts like a second sun.”

“Endor has two suns.”

Maybe you’re crazy, but you swear you hear a smile somewhere through that warped voice filter.

“I mean—” your cheeks are heating up now, “they say you can watch the suns rise on both sides if you’re on its moons. But one of them’s not really the sun. Duh. Endor just. Reflects the light, so it looks like the sun. Or-or something like that.”

“And you see it?”

“Right now? I do.” You bite your bottom lip, briefly debating if you should vocalize what you’ve been thinking just now. “I just… have you ever seen a sunrise? Without that thing on?”

Oh, you’ve done it now. If you were toeing the line before, now you just straight up cross it, ignoring any and all boundaries. Maker, you’ve literally just met him. But here you are, running your mouth and doing uncharacteristic things.

But he’s surprised you multiple times too. His kid. His awkward softness. Or at least, his willingness to try for it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I-I wasn’t thinking, and—”

Something thunks against the hard earth. A fraction of a tilt of your head to the side, and a brief glint of metal twinkles out of the corner of your eye.

You’ve never straightened so fast.

Your heart continues to thump, a staccato that has your nerves skyrocketing. Don’t look. He’s trusting you. Don’t look.

You never expected the steel fortress to crack even just a little. But here, right now, he’s opened a fucking gate with you.

You’re too afraid to even speak right now, afraid that it will burst whatever precious moment you two are both sharing and experiencing separately. You feel the Mandalorian inhale and then exhale, equally long and deep, as he sags against you.

Tired. Relieved. Heavy. Eased.

Unmodulated.

Vulnerable.

After a few moments your taut muscles begin to loosen and you nestle as much as you can into the armor on his back. His head gently bumps against yours, and you stiffen.

The baby coos in your arms. You relax minutely.

You spend seconds, minutes, possibly even hours sitting back-to-back with the Mandalorian in companionable silence. Endor isn’t as blinding as its suns are, but it’s still incredibly pretty to watch its reflected light crawl over the horizon. You sit and watch until the light spreads over the entirety of the Forest Moon, until your shadows slowly disappear, in awe of the absolute tranquility of it all. It just feels right, even with his beskar pressed against your back and the baby babbling from time to time. It shouldn’t, but it does, and your heart fills with warmth that spreads through your veins, like the sun’s a beacon of warm feelings and you’ve just absorbed it all. You close your eyes. And you commit this moment—this singular, uninterrupted moment that’s forever yours—to memory.

“This is nice,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he quietly agrees, “it is.”

∎∎∎∎∎∎

It kind of really fucking breaks your heart when you exit the Razor Crest and enter the shop with a bag full of credits.

Of course it had to end. What were you thinking? That somehow, the Mandalorian was going to offer you to stay? What would you even do?

After you and Mando shared such an intimate (at the same time, not) moment together, it’s kind of… strange to be back where you started. In the shop. A good distance apart.

About to say goodbye.

“Thank you,” he says, his modulated voice ringing familiar and foreign at the same time.

“My pleasure.”

Awkward. It’s not strained, but… it’s off, considering this morning. The intimacy of such an innocent moment. Do you… hug? Do Mandalorians hug?

He glances at the ship. “I should get going.”

“Your ship’s all good. I, uh, checked once we landed.”

“Thank you.”

Gratitude. Always, with him. Your cheeks burn.

He turns to walk up the ramp, and before you can stop yourself your mouth opens before your mind can protest.

“Hey Mando—”

He stops, turns to face you. That piercing gaze. You just know it. You smile, hoping he smiles under his helmet. You really, really hope he’s smiling under there.

“Be safe.”

He waits a beat. Then another. And then—

“You too.”

Your heart drops, just a little, but you keep your smile on your face and your eyes trained on the Crest as the engines power up. And then he’s off, taking his kid with him along with the memory of his brief period of respite with you.

Maybe another day, when the last thing you’d think you’d be doing is holding a little baby ball of green wrapped in scratchy brown wool, will be the day he comes back.

The chances of that are slim. But still, you’ll take your chances.

You like those odds.

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #daddy din #that’s basically all this is #respite #by belle #mando x you #mando x reader #idk what else to tag tbh

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

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Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 5

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because it’s dinner time!

Last time in book: Kylan and Naia have joined forces with Rian to overthrow the Skeksis. Rian’s plan is to go to the All-Maudra with his claims and a vial of Mira goo. To kill time before dinner with Rian’s family, Kylan reads a bunch of rocks and Naia has a nap.

Chapter 5

Dinner is awkward for everyone. Then the plot comes knocking. Rian, Kylan, and Naia make a game plan.

Oops, this is a slightly bigger chapter that ruined my one week streak! But its also a really good chapter that I quite enjoyed!

Mythra leads Kylan and Naia into the kitchen and introduces them to mom Shoni and little brother Timtri.

Like most Stonewood Gelfling, she had long dark hair, and her soft wings were brown and red, with two large black eyespots accented by other dappleso f orange, gold, and tan.

Shoni pretty.

She stops preparing dinner to greet the guests.

Shoni set down her chopping knife and rounded the table to cup Naia’s face and then Kylan’s. Her hands smelled of spices and carrots. It was a warm gesture that Kylan had seen many mothers do, although he couldn’t remember much about his own mother, and certainly Maudra Mera would never have done something so kind to him.

OH MY GOD

Shoni pls adopt this boy right now!

That’s the relationship I ship, Shoni adopts Kylan.

Because, geez, the more Kylan and Mera’s relationship is expounded on, the sadder I feel.

“Hello, my sweets. I’m glad to finally meet you. Please, sit down. Ignore Rian if he’s cold to you. Rian! Fetch our guests something to drink, would you?”

“I can do it, Mother,” Mythra suggested, but Shoni waved her away.

“I want him to do it. It will be good for him.”

Wow. Savage. Rian is having a bad time in these opening chapters.

So, dinner is served on a stone table that seems to be growing out of the ground, leading Kylan to wonder whether the hut or table came first. Dinner is nuts, spiced peach-berries, and diced root.

I wonder if Stone-in-the-Wood doesn’t eat a lot of meat or whether this family doesn’t. Probably meat is a special occasion food.

Shoni asks about how far they’ve traveled which starts a conversation about Landstriders which makes Kylan feel like crap because he’s bad at all the Spriton things.

[Kylan] didn’t want to tell them about his brief foray into riding, the majority of which involved falling off, spooking the beasts, or a combination of the two. Galloping across the plains was one of the many Spriton traditions Kylan had seen much and done little of. There was that, and spear mastering, and bola throwing...

Geez. Kylan needs a hug. And some self-confidence. And another feel good day full of reading.

Actually, its an awkward dinner for other reasons too. Naia mentions that she’s thankful Kylan was good enough at riding to guide them away from the castle and Rian, grim boy that he is, mentions its good because if they didn’t have a Landstrider they would have been caught by the Skeksis.

“Rian!” Shoni scolded. “Now’s not the time. Can’t we enjoy one meal as a family without mentioning... that?”

“I don’t know, Mother. Can we even call ourselves a family when Father -.”

“Enough.”

o_o

Wow. I guess Skeksis are the politics of Thra and discussion of them will just ruin dinner. That and Ordon is hunting down Rian for the Skeksis. Imagine thats contributing.

Rian just bringing it up like that smacked me in the face though.

Shoni flicked her wings once, shrugging off the little argument

Wiiiiiiiing body language! I loves it!

Shoni switches the conversation to safe small talk and asks what the Drenchen do for fun, leading Naia to an enthusiastic explanation of various fun swamp activities.

Here’s one I like.

“When I was younger and argued with my sisters, my mother used to throw gems into the deeper parts of the swamp and make us find them before they sank into the mud. If we couldn’t find a gem, we had to do chores under Great Smerth, cleaning mites from the roots and such.”

That’s good swamp parenting.

Everyone is getting into the conversation about swamp activities. Kylan thinks that Naia sounds like she’s bragging, but in an endearing way. Even Rian seems to be listening to the conversation.

He jumps in to mention that Gurjin told him about the bola tourneys held and starts discussing comparative bolas with Naia. How the Drenchen bola uses shorter rope so it has more force and less chance to tangle.

And Naia gets into the topic of bolas and tries to bring Kylan in to talk about Spriton bolas.

Kylan shrank a little into his shoulders. He appreciated her attempt to include him, but the truth was, he didn’t know how shorter or longer rope changed a bola, or whether smaller or larger stones would be better in the field or forest. He didn’t know, and a part of him didn’t even care. He shrugged.

“I guess,” he said.

His contribution was so small and green, it almost killed the tiny flame of conversation entirely. Naia was ready with kindling words.

I really like that metaphor. But also, wow, this is like every awkward family dinner smooshed into one.

“Kylan is a song teller, and a dream etcher. A very good one! And even so, he can still throw a bola. He struck skekMal the Hunter square in the face.”

Again, Naia was only trying to help, but to Kylan, it sounded less like an endorsement and more as if she were trying to excuse him. As if being a song teller explained his athletic ineptitude, and his single victory in combat redeemed him.

I don’t know how many ways I can say wow what an awkward dinner. Poor Kylan.

Rian grunts approvingly of Kylan bonking the Hunter and adds that he’d love to do that himself one day.

Then the dinner gets EVEN MORE AWKWARD as Maudra Fara shows up. (Fugitive Rian of course hides while she’s visiting.)

An older Gelfing stood outside, dressed in indigos and greens, her dark burgundy-and-gold wings folded along the length of her back like a cloak. From the beads and ornaments woven into her dark hair, Kylan realized who she must be.

Maudra Fara is also pretty.

But she’s here on business. And for Kylan, specifically. She saw a Spriton on the rise and figured hey, a Spriton. Then she received a note about a Kylan.

She tells him “Before you wonder -- it is bad news.” Just ripping the band-aid off. That’s the Fara I know!

To my maudra sisters:

Take note. Lords skekLach and skekMal arrived early this morning. They sought one of mine, a runaway named Kylan. They say he is a traitor. When they did not find him, they took three others as collateral. If you know of Kylan’s whereabouts, send him to me, and I will take responsibility for him.

In Thra’s song,

Dream Stitcher Mera

aw crap Kylan is a fugitive now too.

(I wonder what skekMal’s title is when he’s not being a serial killer. He can’t go by Hunter because that’s his secret identity.)

Naia gets rightly offended at the Skeksis, pointing out that they’re not even hiding their cruelty and accuses them of taking hostages for snacks.

Maudra Fara tells Naia not to talk like that but out of fear instead of loyalty. When Naia keeps talking, Fara just. Pretends she’s not.

Fara is median cool. She’s clearly not willing to risk her village by sticking her neck out and probably wouldn’t back up Rian if he went to her, just as he feared. But instead of capturing Kylan, she gives him this headsup and a head start.

“If Shoni has welcomed you to her home, I won’t betray her hospitality tonight. But the Skeksi are looking for you, and my duty is to my clan. By the time the suns rise, you must be gone from here. Go to your maudra or do not. Go anywhere but here. I’ve got enough on my hands with Rian missing in the woods we share with the Skeksis. I can’t risk the safety of my people any more. Please understand.”

Kylan understands logically but still feels like a kick in the gut to so suddenly be kicked out. And its not explicitly stated but since he is half Stonewood, Kylan has basically been alienated from both of his homes. If he goes to Sami Thicket, Mera will turn him over to the Skeksis. And Fara has made it clear that she won’t risk her people for him.

Even if he hadn’t chosen to continue the quest earlier, he’d be stuck with it.

This is just a huge bummer of a dinner!

Kylan throws the note into the fire but since the paper was enchanted to resist the heat of dream-etching, it takes some time to burn.

H-hey! A neat trivia about dream-etching!

Naia gets mad on Kylan’s behalf who is too kicked in the guy and worried. But Rian comes out of hiding with a more different take. Or at least acceptance.

“She would have sent me away, too, if she’d known I was here. I can’t fault her for it. It’s her duty to do what’s best for the entire clan, not just one or two, or even three of us... The Skeksis will eventually come here, and they will do what it takes to scare the others into giving us up. The only thing that may save us is if no one knows our whereabouts and if we reach the All-Maudra as soon as possible. We should do as Maudra Fara says and leave. Tonight.”

Kylan is too focused on who the Skeksis took from Sami Thicket and whether attempting to rescue them would be a waste of time. And when he comes out of his musing he’s arrived at a different conclusion than Rian.

Not that they don’t need to leave but that heading to the All-Maudra isn’t a good enough plan. Because the Skeksis won’t stop preying on Gelfling or coming after Kylan and Rian and other Gelfling are going to get caught in the crossfire.

Kylan thinks that they should let all Gelfling know the truth so that they can take precautions to protect themselves. But he also gloomily thinks that maybe people will be unwilling to listen to the truth, like Maudra Fara.

Naia sides with Kylan.

“We will tell the All-Maudra,” Naia announced. “But Kylan’s right. The rest of the Gelfling need to know, too. If we focus all of our efforts on reaching the All-Maudra and waiting for her decision, many of our people could be taken by the Skeksis in the meantime. We have to find a way to spread the message faster, and sooner. Like dreamfasting.”

But even with Naia’s Super Cool Dreamfasting it would take too long. They’d have to touch hands with EVERY GELFLING.

Its just not practical and its not like there’s some kind of fire skype! The Gelfling are still in the courier stage of communications technology, drat it!

Shoni pops in and mentions that they could take the path to the High Hill making Rian groan that Aughra will be no help.

Blowing away Kylan that Mother Aughra, huge figure in Gelfling culture, is just casually an option here.

Aughra who is probably as old as the suns, called maudra Thra, lived through the only two conjunctions, and knew the world before Gelfling existed.

That Aughra. Is casually an option. And just casually lives nearby!

“Her home is near our wood, though few make the trek to see her. Even those who arrive often do not find the answers they are looking for... Some find nothing at all. But I think, given how empty our table is, even a crumb would look like hope.”

A rebellion resistance is built on hope!

I’m intrigued that she appears to not be napping forever in this version which makes one wonder why she hasn’t gotten involved because even at her movie grumpiest, she wasn’t callous. She saved Fizzgig the Fizzgig to no benefit to herself.

So what’s her deal in this continuity? And is she as grumpy?

“She’s nothing but a mad witch spouting nonsense and riddles,” Rian grumbled.

“You’ve met her?” Naia asked, as surprised as Kylan but more practical about how the news could serve them. “So you know the way! We can ask her if she knows how we can send out warning.”

“She won’t help!” Rian snapped, his voice escalating suddenly. When Kylan and the others fell quiet, he tried to settle down. Still, his fingers twitched and his thick brows drew tight. “She’s existed since the beginning of time, and the years have eroded her mind. She’s not interested in us. In the Gelfling. She won’t help and I’m not about to waste my time on her.”

That sounds like there’s history there that I’d love to know.

And sounds like if she’s not as grumpy as in the movies she’s at least as difficult.

Did Rian go to her for help after fleeing the castle to no gain? Or did he have a different reason for visiting?

Aughra wasn’t senile in the movie so I don’t think she’d be senile here so what’s her deeeeeal?

Anyway, Rian argues that showing the All-Maudra the vial of Mira goo is the best plan. And Naia argues against putting all their hope on one plan. So Rian says cool I’ll go alone like I wanted to. And Naia says hey buddy this is a team effort.

And Kylan finally points out that they should split up because they’re both basically saying that but arguing about it.

They should split their efforts and making it harder for the Skeksis to catch them.

“We need to work together, apart.”

Oh, I love that turn of phrase.

Kylan shrugged, in case they didn’t like the idea. They were both leaders, and he was a follower, but they weren’t looking at the big picture. To his surprise, though, the suggestion brought a calm to the room. Naia nodded at Kylan, a flash of respect in her eyes.

This is funny for a kind of meta reason. Rian and Naia are both protagonist but Kylan was a supporting character last book but protagonist of this one and he needs to speak up and protag.

Also, Rian and Naia are a bit in the way of being stubborn.

Rian agrees, insofar as he doesn’t think it will matter because his own plan is going to 100% succeed and it gets them out of his (blue-streaked) hair. He even offers to take them partway to High Hill.

Kylan then decides that they should go immediately.

Though he wasn’t eager to forsake the warmth of the stone hut for the cold wilderness of the wood, he felt it was the right thing to do. He had wanted to rest, but it seemed rest was a luxury for which they would find less and less opportunity. Knowing that Maudra Fara thought they were endangering all the Gelfling of Stone-in-the-Wood -- and that they were under orders to leave -- robbed the warm hut of much of its comfort.

That’s a bummer ending to an awkward dinner party.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Rian #Kylan #Naia #Mythra #Shoni #Maudra Fara #politics ruins dinner

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huntertales · 5 years ago

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Part Three: I’ll Get You, My Pretty. And Your Little Hunters, Too. (Slumber Party S09E04)

Episode Summary: The reader and the boys call in I.T. expert Charlie Bradbury to help track fallen angels with technology found in the Men of Letters bunker. However, they soon discover something more in the form of the one and only Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Everyone joins forces to take down the Wicked Witch and her evil plans. Warning: Mentions of past miscarriage, slight twinge of angst if you squint. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,340.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

NOTE: This is hella unedited, oops. All mistakes are my own. I’ll fix them tomorrow. I just wanted to get a new part out for you guys!

Charlie shouldn’t have been excited as she was to be given the opportunity to poke around Dean’s belongings while he tried and searched for the same key the wicked witch was looking for. As if today couldn’t get any better it seemed it was. She noticed right away how the older Winchester’s room contrasted his brother’s. Dean made an effort to decorate the space how he liked and made it his own. You added small touches to make it clear you shared the room like any other normal couple; a pile of your folded clothes sitting on the couch, a book you were halfway through reading bookmarked on the nightstand. Yet you gave him the opportunity to call the space his own from the lack of opportunity he had growing up. You and him had no problem making it your home. It was easier when you had memories to help you lay down your roots.

The redhead found herself smiling when she spotted a few personal photographs leaning against the desk. One was of a blonde woman holding a small child that looked to be no older than four or five, she guessed it was Dean’s mother. A rare moment from his childhood before it turned bitter for the family. The other picture was of the couple from several years ago from the looks of it. She felt her smile grow wider from the way you both looked at each other in the photo, the love you had for one another was clear in your faces. You looked at each other like a couple of kids head over heels. Even after all the tragedy and heartbreak you had to endure over the years, the love you had for one another was still going strong. Maybe it even brought the both closer together. She only wished to find a woman to share the kind of affection and adventure like you both had.

Charlie found herself drawn to a stack of magazines when she caught sight of a beautiful woman wearing little clothing luring her attention when she helped on the search to make things go faster. She quickly realized she had stumbled upon Dean’s personal stash of skin magazines that looked like they dated back into the early fifties. How he managed to get his hands on something like this was a mystery to her. She went through them to see they ranged from over sixty years ago to a little more recently. She chuckled to herself at how the man prioritized.

“You keep your porn meticulously organized, but not—” Charlie picked up the copy on top of the pile, raising her brow in curiosity to hear the man’s answer.

“Don’t judge me.” Dean defended himself from the woman’s playful teasing.

Charlie shook her head and bit back a laugh. She opened up the magazine in the middle, wanting to take a peek at the spread they had back in the day. Charlie found her attention quickly drawn away from the naked woman when she noticed something slipped out and fell down to the ground by her feet. She stepped back and looked down to see it was another photo. She reached down and picked it up, slightly fearful she might find a picture of you in a compromising position for the older man’s enjoyment, only it was worse than she could ever imagine.

Dean was the one who called her to let her know about the technical problem you and the boys were facing that left all of you scratching your heads. It’d been a few months since the last time you got in contact with her and the things you had been up to since last speaking. She asked how all of you were doing and excitedly wanted an update about the baby, you were almost due in a few months. The way the other end fell eerily silent made Charlie’s heart drop into her stomach. She was familiar with the pause between words before giving bad news.

“Y/N, she…she lost the baby, Charlie.” This wasn’t how he wanted to find out. She could hear the pain in his voice, how it cracked from retelling of the news to one of his only friends. His words had come true. What the young woman found odd was the request he had given to her prior to her arrival. “Please don’t mention it to her. We don’t like to talk about it.”

It had been over a month. People eventually move on from these things. You didn’t mention it when you saw her. You didn’t even seem sad. You acted like you had forgotten all about what happened. A blissful ignorance, or you had the best mask at hiding your grief. Not that Charlie was expecting for you to pull her to the side and explained what happened. It wasn’t her right to know the details. She couldn’t comprehend the trauma you were going through.

Losing a parent was an inevitable part of life every child would go through, no matter the age they lose them. But to lose a child before they were able to take in their first breath? It ruins people with a sort of pain Charlie hoped she never would have to understand. She remembered how excited you were for the baby. How it slipped off the tongue when you first met her, the way you looked at Dean when the both of you talked about your future plans of getting married.

Charlie regretted the gifts she had given you, the tiny outfit and the book. They would be nothing more than a constant reminder of a life that was no longer. You might have said your goodbyes and found inner peace with the situation, but Charlie still felt the need to give you her grievances. She wanted to wrap you into a tight hug and be reminded you weren’t alone in these troubling times. But Dean had made it quite clear he wanted the situation under wraps.

“How are you holding up?” Dean momentarily stopped searching from the odd question that came out of nowhere. Charlie held the ultrasound picture for a few seconds longer before tucking it back into the magazine from where she stumbled upon it by accident. “I know you said you didn’t want me to talk about it, but I gotta know. Are you guys okay?”

“We’re hanging in there.” He admitted to her. “It’s been a little while now.”

Charlie should have understood from the man’s short answer and behavior that he wanted to be done with this conversation. It wasn’t the right time to be discussing the past when you had a wicked witch running around the bunker as well, looking for a magical key that opened the door to Oz. She was more excited than anyone to have another hunt filled with magic, it was the very thing she had been searching for since she started hunting on her own. But she couldn’t help herself when her mind drifted away from the hunt and to the news that had been lingering in the back of her mind since the phone call.

“Still, to lose a baby the way she did…” Charlie had a habit of pressing further into a conversation, despite given the social and audio cues someone wanted to drop the topic. Your behavior rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. You were so excited, over the moon in fact. “Are you sure she’s okay—”

“I told you Charlie, she’s fine. You know how Y/N gets with the kinds of things. We said our goodbyes, came to terms with the things that happened. We moved on from it. And so should you.” Dean hadn’t realized the tone he used on the woman until he saw her expression change dramatically. He didn’t mean to lash out at her. Weeks of anger came boiling to the surface without a second thought. And she was the victim. A caring friend who just wanted to give her condolences, all she ended up doing was making him feel worse. “I..I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Charlie muttered. She shook her head and went back to searching, pretending like everything was fine once more. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Dean let out a quiet sigh of frustration from his short temper before going back to his search, digging through a few more artifacts until he found a small box that looked familiar. He opened it up to find the exact key he’d been looking for over the past few minutes. His lips stretch into a victorious smile. “Ah!” He quietly shouted to himself. “Yahtzee.”

Charlie looked up to see her friend discover the key. She shared a matching smile, enjoying the moment, all before it was ruined a few seconds later by an unexpected guest. Neither one of them noticed a puff of emerald green smoke sneak its way into the bedroom from the air vent and transform into the very person they were hunting. Charlie’s eyes moved away for a split second when she noticed something out from the corner of her eye. A gasp of surprise escaped from her throat at the sight of the wicked witch standing behind Dean, giving her no chance to properly warn him from what was about to happen.

Dean quickly turned around and spotted the witch, but he had no time to properly defend himself. The witch snatched the key from his grip, using her unexpected drop-in to her advantage of the situation. She easily flung him across the room with enough force to make Dean bounce off the bed and stumble to the corner of the room, knocking his head roughly against the concrete wall. Charlie had no time at all to properly defend herself. She saw the gun lying on the bed and dived forward to get it, but the witch was faster, hitting the young woman with some kind of spell that would be her demise. All Dean saw when he got his head back on straight was Charlie falling to the ground, a piece of furniture doing nothing to break her fall.

The witch let out a scream of pain when she felt another poppy bullet aim into her chest. Dean stood behind the loaded gun after firing off his only road into the witch in some kind of way to stop her. It wounded her like how Charlie said, but it was not enough to stop her. He watched as the witch disappeared the way she came, and with exactly they were trying to keep from her. Dean couldn’t focus on the trouble he landed them all in. His eyes wandered to the body lying on the ground, not moving. Not…breathing.

Dean crouched down to the ground so he was at level with Charlie. He softly spoke the woman’s name as he pushed her so her body was now lying on her backside, hoping he might be able to see her breathe, or her eyes moved underneath her lids. Anything to show him that she was still alive. He waited a few seconds. He watched her chest to see if it would move. But she remained on the ground, lifeless. Dean shook her body, and when that didn’t work, he cradled her head into his hands. No amount of times he kept repeating the woman’s name roused her back into consciousness. Dean felt his breathing come out into shorter ones from everything that was happening.

The older Winchester picked up Charlie from the ground and carried her over to his bed, trying to get her more comfortable. He kept repeating her name over and over again, despite her only response being deafening silence. Dean gently moved a few strands of red hair out of her face, feeling no hot breath tickle his skin like how he hoped. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t lose another person so soon. Not now, not like this. Charlie deserved so much better...He needed to find a way to fix this.

“Dean?”

Your voice echoed from out the bunker’s hall, making a blossoming sense of hope fill into Dean's chest. He knew there was someone else in your body that could help bring Charlie back to life. The name that wasn't your own slipped off his tongue before he realized the consequences that might be waiting for him down the road. All he cared about in the moment was bringing his best friend back to where she belonged.

“Zeke!” Dean called out the angel’s name when you stepped into the bedroom, checking out the room to make sure it was safe. You immediately dropped your gun down to your side as your eyes flashed blue, the angel in your body coming to the driver's side. Your body stood in the doorway and stared at the dead body lying on Dean’s bed. Dean appeared to be desperate, fearful for the young woman's life that was no longer. "You have to help her."

Ezekial approached the edge of the bed, inspecting the woman for a moment to inspect the damage inflicted upon her. The angel knew from the sight of her that she was no longer. "She's gone."

"No. You can bring her back like you did with Cas." Dean told the angel, his tone of voice making it clear it was more of a request than anything. The older Winchester was desperate, asking for a favor from the angel after someone close to him got hurt. It was starting to be a habit Ezekial wasn't happy with.

"I cannot keep doing this." Ezekiel warned the hunter.

"Why the hell not?!" Dean questioned the angel, his tone bleeding with frustration at the hesitation of the angel's willingness to help like how he had before.

"I am barely back to half strength, Dean. Every time I use my power, it weakens me, which means I will have to stay longer in Y/N, longer than you want—longer than we both want." Ezekial informed the older Winchester about his unwillingness to do what was asked of him. Dean was left at a crossroads of the choice he was to make. "The witch running around your bunker is very powerful. I can help with the witch or save your friend.”

Dean fell silent for a moment about what the right thing to do was in this situation. He took into consideration the sort of complications he’d been facing since you were possessed by Ezekial, and how your reaction would be upon hearing the death of Charlie. A woman you had doted over since you first met her. Dean swallowed and looked down at the young woman lying on the bed. He made his decision. It might not have been the right one, but he didn’t care. He was doing it for his family.

“Save her.” Dean instructed.

Ezekial nodded his head, “As you wish.”

The angel made his way over to Charlie and kneeled down on the ground so it would be easier for what he was about to do. He pressed two fingers to her forehead and shut his eyes, slowly healing the young woman from her internal wounds that lead to her demise. The wounds were far worse than the ones Cas had been endured with. Dean watched with fearful eyes as your expression changed into an almost pained out as a grunt slipped out from your mouth at the amount of power Ezekiel had to use in order to properly heal Charlie. A few more seconds before it was complete. Charlie shot up in bed with a sudden gasp of air as you stumbled back, landing roughly into the dresser that was behind you.

“Merry Christmas!” Charlie groggily spoke her first set of words after coming back to life. She looked around the room in a daze, not sure what was going on, or how he managed to get on the bed from the floor. Dean rushed to the young woman’s side and softly spoke her name, wanting to make sure everything was okay. “Hey, I know you.”

“I told you to stay in the dungeon.” Dean told the young woman of his previous warning. He felt himself suddenly be filled with a rush of relief at the weak chuckle that escaped her throat.

“Bet you say that to all the girls.” She mumbled a joke, making him smile at how she was able to joke even after coming back to life without even knowing it.

“Dean?” Your voice broke the older Winchester’s concentration from Charlie, making his eyes wander over to you to see that you were coming back around as well. Both of you not having a single clue of the events that took place just a minute ago. “What the hell just happened?”

“The witch—the witch was about to put a whammy on me, and, uh, Charle jumped in front.” Dean explained the situation to you, the lie slipping off of his tongue without a second thought. He gave the young woman a proudful smile at her heroic move. "She got zapped, and then the witch got the drop on you."

“Okay. This has been happening to me way too much.” You muttered to yourself at your clumsy behavior. You rubbed the back of your head from the rush of pain you felt from getting back up to your feet. You have been off your game for weeks now since the trials. It wasn’t like you to be so lousy. Despite your rusty hunting skills all of you were somehow still in one piece. “Then why aren’t we dead?”

“That’s a good question.” Dean agreed with you, shrugging his shoulders. He quickly thought of an excuse that might help fill in the gaps and keep you from growing suspicious. “I clipped her with a poppy bullet. She got the key. I think she’s gone.”

“No, she’s wounded.” Dorothy came out of nowhere to correct the man with some good news. She rushed down the hall and stopped in the doorway with Sam catching up to the woman a few seconds later. "We should still have some time. She could still be in the air vents."

“No. No, no. She’s right. We—we have to—we—” Charlie foolishly thought she was capable of swinging her legs off the bed and standing up without a problem. Dean managed to stop the woman from crashing to the floor when her body involentarly tipped forward.

“Just go.” Dorothy told you and the boys. “We’ll catch up.”

“My gun’s over there.” Charlie pointed over to the desk you were standing next to you. You saw it was exactly where she was, lying on top of boxes that were stacked on one another. “There’s one bullet in it.”

You warned the two women to be careful and made your way out into the hall with the boys, handing the gun over to Dean so he could have another round to defend himself if all of you came into contact with the witch again. The three of you cautiously made your way through the bunker, peeking down every hall and looking over your shoulder to make sure the witch didn’t get the drop on you again. The next time you came in contact with her you wouldn’t be as lucky.

The mystery to how you were even still breathing after your first run in with her, along with the events that landed you with a dull ache in the back of your head was starting to make you feel frustrated. You remembered making your way into Dean’s room and then waking up on the floor, everything in between was blank. It was happening to you frequently. And it was more than just a few minutes at a time on hunts. Bits and pieces from months were gone. Sometimes you tried to think about the trials, but you couldn’t remember. You wondered if your mind repressed them in some sort of attempt to protect yourself from dealing with the pain you endured. But now that it was happening more frequently...you were hearing things, it was starting to make you worried.

“Who’s Zeke?” You knew it wasn’t the proper time to drop a question on Dean when you turned a corner and followed behind the older man as his brother led. He gave you a confused look at the name you thought he might have never heard before. You swore you heard it. “When I came into your room, before I got zapped,” You pointed your gun at an empty room when you passed by another one, only to move on to the next. “I thought you said the name Zeke. Who’s that?”

"Um..." Dean mentally cursed at himself for the dilemma he found himself in. Sam turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder at his brother, wondering what kind of trouble he'd gotten himself into this time. And what excuse he was going to use in order to keep from the situation escalating. "I think you're still a little punchy, sweetheart. You and Sammy head for the front. I'll meet you two in the library."

You were disappointed from the answer you were given by Dean. You expected his response to be drastically different from what you were given...

You thought to yourself. Maybe he was right. You had been out of it for the past few weeks. You had been so stranger to the sort of tricks your mind was able to play on you. You let out a quiet sigh and followed behind the young man as you made your way to the front entry of the bunker in some kind of hope you might be able to find the witch before it was too late.

You and Sam made your way into the war room and cautiously looked around to make sure the coast was clear once more. The only people that were around so far were just the two of you. You lowered your gun slightly and looked over at the younger Winchester, remembering the conversation you had overheard when you were catching up with them after splitting up from Charlie and Dean. The both of them were discussing homes, and the lack of importance it was to them. A strange subject for the both of them to bond over. You still didn’t understand why Sam was still hesitant about letting himself feel comfortable enough to call the bunker his home. You knew he had a rough childhood of sleeping in the backseat of the Impala and strange motel rooms. But this was good as it was going to get for the both of you. Hell, it was better than either one of you could have hoped to call home for your family.

“Why haven’t you moved in?” You understood your question was poorly timed when you spoke it out loud, bringing up a conversation the younger Winchester really didn't feel like discussing right now

“Is now really the time for this, Y/N?” Sam’s tone made sure to reflect his annoyance at your conversation topic you butted heads over just a few hours ago.

“Well, I’m just asking.” You muttered in your defense.

“Look, I never had what you had with your family, okay? Or Dean for that matter.” Sam decided the truth was the most important answer to lead with. You stopped in your tracks and gave him a confused look at his response. “I don’t have any memories of home. And whenever I’ve tried to make a home of my own, it really hasn’t ended well.”

“Yeah, but a lifetime of abandoned buildings and crappy motel rooms. Not to mention living in a house all by your lonesome wasn’t exactly paradise on my part. I mean,” You let out a sigh and looked around at the bunker with all of its glory that you felt it offered. “This is about as close to home we’re gonna get as a family, and it’s ours. Why can’t you make this place yours?”

Sam found himself overwhelmed with the need to give you a reason why. He wanted to tell you the truth about how he tried to make the bunker a home, and for a little while it did. He psyched himself up with the reality of dealing with another human to the bunch. A small baby that would fill the quiet bunker halls with their cries and laughter. Make you and Dean panic when they got to the age where they started crawling, leading you to find out the dangerous things they could get their hands on in the bunker. You even picked out a room for that baby, expecting to have the chance around this time to take out all the old furniture to make it a nursery. Sam was honestly excited for the things that were to come that would make it truly feel like home. But all he felt now when he passed by that room was pain.

“I tried, okay?” Sam managed to speak out three words that might help you understand. Only it caused you to look at him with even more confusion. The look you gave him was clear; you wanted to know why. What was the reason that he couldn’t call the bunker home? He hated himself for lying to you. He hated how easy it was. “I tried for months. But I can’t force myself into believing something that doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m gonna go check on your brother, see what’s taking him so long.” You said. You took a few steps backwards, trying to hide your disappointment in hearing what you thought was the truth. It was the tip of the iceberg for the reason Sam was giving you. But you didn’t know that. “Holler if you see the witch. I’ll be back.”

Sam let out a frustrated sigh from the conversation veered into a direction he hoped wouldn’t have gone in. He should’ve known better than to think you might leave a conversational topic alone without being given the full reason. It was enough to drop it once and for all.

You retraced the steps you thought Dean might have taken, wondering what was taking him so long to catch up with the both of you. You kept thinking about Sam’s reasoning for not thinking the bunker of home as you had hoped. He pressured Dean to stay here permanently. He was over the moon to discover what this place had to offer. You guessed he couldn’t miss something he never really had. It broke your heart. You could only wish that one day Sam might be able to change his mind and find a reason to call this place his own.

When you ended back up where you split up with Dean without finding a trace of the man, you gave up on the search, deciding instead to make it back to the library where you agreed upon to meet up. You found it odd as you made your way back that you hadn’t found a trace of the witch anywhere around here. Most likely she was around here, trying to open up the door to Oz. But not without taking care of you.

You found yourself stopping in your tracks when you stumbled upon a sight of your worst fear in the war room. The witch had found the boys. She had an arm wrapped around Sam’s neck and a finger pressed against Dean’s forehead, doing something to the both of them that didn’t kill them. But put them under her spell. You mumbled a curse word underneath your breath before you booked it out of there, needing to find Dorothy and Charlie before it was too late.

You looked everywhere for the two women; Dean's bedroom, Sam's, yours. Anywhere that was close by. You managed to send off a text to Charlie in some kind of hope that she would respond as you raced around the bunker, trying to dodge the witch and the two men under her spell. You didn't know what she had done to them, and you really didn't want to find out. Luckily the red head answered your text, leading you to somewhere you didn't expect to go, a little secret you had kept to yourself since discovering it—the garage.

"Y/N!" Charlie shouted your name with excitement when she spotted you running up the stairs, and out of breath for that matter. "You didn't tell me this place had a garage!"

“Sorry. Slipped my mind. We sort of have more pressing matters." You didn’t mean the sarcasm that slipped off your tongue. You made your way to the women when Dorothy was busy rummaging around her motorcycle, looking for something. You furrowed your brows when you saw her pull out what appeared to be a severed mechanical head. “Is that..”

“Yeah. He didn’t make it out.” Dorothy said, hinting of the poor Tin Man’s demise. You watched as she frantically searched through her bag until she pulled out exactly what she was looking for. A pair of ruby red slippers. “Yes!”

“I don’t believe it.” Charlie laughed at the sight of the famous shoes. “Did you really walk down a brick road in these?”

“No. I never actually wore them. Seemed kind of tacy wearing a dead woman’s shoes.” Dorothy said. “Plus, I’m no good in heels, you know?”

“I don’t suppose we could pop those on and wish the witch away?” You wondered.

“Sorry. Another thing the books got wrong.” Dorothy said. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from how these sorts of things could never be easy as you wanted. “But, like the poppies, these have magic from Oz—sharp magic.”

“Death by shoe? Huh.” You examined the shoes both of the women were holding, the very thing that was going to kill the wicked witch. “Well, that’s not the first time I’ve seen that.”

“There you are.”

You quickly turned around at the sound of a deep, growling voice coming from behind you. You gritted your teeth from how quick they were able to find you, despite the goose chase you had to deal with before finding them here. Charlie didn’t seem to figure out what the problem was.

“Was that your Batman voice?” Charlie asked the boys, smiling to herself at the impression she thought was funny. You quickly whipped out your gun and pointed it at them when you saw their eyes glow an emerald green. “That’s definitely not your Batman voice.”

“It’s her.” You told them, pointing the weapon at the boys when they started to approach you. “I saw her possess them.”

“I’ve missed you my pretty.” The witch used Sam’s body to pass on the message to Dorothy, smiling at the trouble all of you landed yourself into. “Killing you a second time will be just as sweet as the first.”

“Guys, I know you’re in there.” You tried to somehow speak to them, hoping your voice might be able to reach them before they could do something stupid at the command of the wicked witch. "Dean, don't make me hurt you. I don't want to do this."

“Oh, but I do.” You suddenly felt a grip around your throat with a tight enough of a grip to cut off any oxygen you tried to breathe in from the unexpected attack from Dean’s hand. He used what strength he had against you to his advantage to get you out of way, even momentarily. The man tossed you across the room without much of a care where you landed. His focus landed on the red head that stood before him, looking rather terrified at what he just did.

“Dean, come on.” Charlie hoped there might be a way to speak to the man, despite her doubts when you miserably failed. “If she opens the door, she’s going to destroy Oz.”

Charlie miserably failed when Dean grabbed a hold of her and roughly shoved the woman into a window, shattering the glass into pieces. She was pinned into place with no real chance out of this. Charlie knew what kind of skills and strength Dean he could use to hurt her if she didn’t find a way to get out of his grip before it was too late.

“I have no intention of escaping to Oz.” The witch said. Charlie watched as Dean’s lips stretched into a smirk as Sam told them about her true plans she had all along. “I’m going to bring my armies here.”

[Next Part]

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love

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progressivestupidity · 5 years ago

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IZ week 2020

so i wasn’t gonna do this because I didn’t think the prompts were very good for writing to, but I remembered the last day’s prompt was “role swap” so I decided to do something small and quick for it. this is all 7 days in one post. the first and last ones are drabbles and one of them is an au idea

@invader-zim-week here u go!!!

Day 1. Angst or Fluff

Zim’s denial skills are god tier, but even they have their limits.

Drabble. I think this is the turning point for my eventual found family au

“When are you going to get it through your thick head that the Tallests aren’t coming?” Dib flings his arms out wide in his exasperation

“They’re just…!” Zim fumbles a bit, clenching and unclenching his fists. “The Armada is a million light years away! It takes time to travel that far, obviously. It took me six of your months to get here from Conventia and the Massive is further away from here now than that. They’ll come! You’ll see! And then you’ll be sorry!” Zim’s face is drawn tight. He’s tense all over, shoulders drawn up to his jaw, antennae pressed flat to his head, and normally Dib prides himself on reading Zim like an open book, but he’s too far gone in his own annoyance to see the warning signs.

It’s because he doesn’t see these red flags that Dib proceeds to stick his own foot in his mouth with his next words. “Maybe if you weren’t such an idiot and opened your eyes, you’d see the truth—that they dumped you here to get rid of you.”

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” Zim explodes, planting his tiny hands in Dib’s chest and shoving. The boy lands painfully on his ass. “I’m not stupid, Dib.” His name is spat like an insult. “I know they don’t care about me! Why do you think I try so hard?”

Dib gapes at Zim, looking up at him for once, stunned into silence. “I.” He swallows. “You know?”

“Of course, I know.” Zim’s voice is a low hiss and his eyes are narrowed to slits. “You don’t get banished and then just get over it. You don’t get put on trial to defend your life, forced to relive your worse mistakes, and get sentenced to death, only to be saved by freak miracle, and never acknowledge it happened.” Zim takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest. Dib supposes he means for it to look intimidating, but it looks more like he’s holding himself together. “I’ve always known.”

“Why do you try so hard then? If you’ve always known there was no point?” Dib has to ask, has to know, has to hear the words from Zim’s own mouth.

Zim purses his lips and turns away. “There was always a point.” He falls silent for a moment, one antenna twitching up a bit in thought. “I just… I thought if I was just a little better, if I accomplished something important for once, that… I don’t know, that maybe I’d.” He pauses and grits his teeth. “Maybe if I actually managed to take over this filthy planet I’d be worth something for once.”

Day 2. Be Gay Do Crime (LGBTQA+ headcannons)

Dib is bi/pan/demi-ro, Gaz is lesbian, Zim is ace/demi-ro

Headcanons.

Dib seems like the kind of guy that would both take whatever kind of relationship he could get, but also appreciate it. Dib isn’t afraid to work for what he wants and isn’t afraid of things that are “not normal” so I see him being the type to not care about the gender of whoever he eventually decides to date. However, because Dib’s been burned in the past, he would need a deep and sincere emotional relationship to see someone as a potential romantic partner.

Gaz is just a big lesbian. Girls, man.

Zim is ace all the way baby!!! He’s just not interested, and sure, part of that is me projecting, but it just feels right for Zim to just… not care. He has no interest and doesn’t care for sexual attraction regardless of whether or not Irkens do/can/will have sex or not. On the other hand, Zim has expressed a softer side before and I can see him being able to maybe eventually develop romantic feelings for someone if he actually manages to get close enough to them for those kinds of feelings to even emerge. It would take a lot of time and a deep, meaningful friendship, but Zim has shown he’s capable of love. He just has to let himself feel it.

Day 3. Fandom Appreciation

Found family fuck yeah

Headcanons.

I’m still in the process of thinking about how I wanna go about my found family au so here’s just some initial ideas

After ETF, Zim self isolates for a bit. The florpus hole was his Last Ditch Effort plan and had it succeeded, he knew he would have been destroyed too. He was okay with it. He had made peace with it. However, it failed, and now he’s forced to reflect on said failure

The Massive doesn’t escape the florpus. They’re gone, completely. If they the ship does manage to get out, it’s not in one piece

I initially couldn’t decide if The Trial should come Before ETF or After but I think im gonna say before so the Massive doesn’t have to come back lmao

Before too long, Zim jumps back into the planning/scheming swing of things, but his ideas are never more than petty crimes and being a huge annoyance

Dib gets really annoyed with him and they have a big argument

Zim finally admits to knowing of his own Defectiveness

Dib reluctantly feels bad for him and backs off a bit to let Zim have his space

Zim, however, sees this as a betrayal and redoubles his efforts to get his attention

Somewhere along the way, Skoodge comes back and Zim backs off of Dib a bit, having someone else to focus attention on

Dib eventually begins to offer Zim his hand in friendship (phrased as a truce at first) and they finally make steps towards getting along

They realize they actually really like being friends

Zim eventually realizes that he’s made a life for himself, outside of the Empire

Eventually Zim, Skoodge, GIR, Minimoose, Dib, and Gaz form their own little family and explore space and hunt cryptids

(I love cryptid hunter and space exploration aus holy shit)

Day 4. If IZ had a different setting/time period

Cyberpunk??? Sure

Potential idea maybe.

Cyberpunk dystopian future

Aliens and humans intermingle, both on and off Earth

The Irken Empire has gotten bigger

Technology is advanced and cybernetics are widely known/produced

Idk man I don’t know a lot about cyberpunk, maybe this should be more for the aesthetic

Day 5. Aesthetic

Big shrug man idk

Headcanons, thoughts.

I’m a big fan of fashion Zim, and whenever I get the chance I give him clothes that are both cute and comfortable

Galaxy print leggings are a personal favorite of mine to give him

One time I wrote a little ficlet/oneshot where he wore a skirt. I should publish that some day

Uhhhhhh okay so. Dib has veeeeeery big early 2000s emo/punk vibes tbh

Scene kid GIR always makes me laugh

Gaz could pull off pastel goth like no one’s business

I’ve been here long enough to witness emo/scene hair wig Zim and his eventual fall lmfao

Pretty much everyone that redesigned them back in the day gave Zim emo kid hair that fall perfectly over one eye it was WILD

Day 6. What if IZ was a different Genre?

Uhhhh does “fantasy instead of scifi” count?

Potential idea maybe. (oops it ended up being a fantasy/modern magic au haha ooooops)

Instead of being an alien, I had the idea of, maybeeeeee Irkens are like. Elves maybe, or perhaps some kind of fae. (I don’t know much about fae, oops)

Okay bear with me here, this is all coming together in real time.

The Irkens (which is what I’m gonna call their clan or faction or subrace or whatever) still want to be the rulers or something over the humans/other mystical beings. This world of magic is hidden from humans and they live blissfully unaware. There are invaders all over the place, using magic and glamors to trick humans into thinking they’re also humans. Zim is one such invader and just to happens to end up in Dib’s town, whereupon he enrolls in Dib’s school, pretending to be a transfer student.

I have no idea why or how the Irkens invade or what methods they use, but since my biggest experience with elves is through DND, I’m going to say they’re functionally similar to certain DND elf races.

So anyway, Zim ends up in Dib’s class and Zim’s glamor just Doesn’t Work on Dib for whatever reason (maybe Dib passed his Wisdom saving throw while literally everyone else failed, idk) and so Dib can immediately see Zim for what he is.

Dib is still into paranormal type stuff, though in his world, he’s less about cryptids and aliens and more about the magical species/world(s) that he KNOWS exists. His big goal in his au is similar to canon in that he wants to expose it all for recognition and love from his father.

Zim, meanwhile, he just wants to prove himself, just like canon. I can’t decide how I want the Irken hierarchy to go in this au—that’s something to think about later, when I have more time—but whatever it is, Zim is either a) not very good at it, b) not suited for it, c) ridiculed for not fitting in to it, or d) a combination of any or all of these things. (or secret option e) he rejects it but has no where else to go. On the other hand, it maybe be none of these things.)

GIR is here too though he’s probably not a robot. Maybe he’s another kind of magical being, or, hell, maybe he’s just Zim’s little brother. I’d be okay with that.

Gaz can also see through glamors but she just doesn’t care. Tak shows up at some point to get revenge, and Skoodge also shows up at some point to stay with Zim and be his friend.

Zim is bad at blending in at first, but he eventually Does get better, since he’s not totally isolated from other Irkens here and he also doesn’t Look like an alien.

(I’m thinkin’ elves in this au look Mostly human but with a few differences. Since I’m biased and this is MY fantasy world, damnit, elves are just. Really Pretty. Ethereal and elegant and graceful (for the most part—there are always exceptions) and they’re also great at magic. Maybe Zim isn’t all that great at magic, I dunno. I’ll figure something out.)

This ended up being less of a genre change and more of a whole ass au, lol oops

Day 7. Role swap

Chanting: human zim au human zim au human zim au human zi

Drabble. This is for an ongoing species swap au that i’ve had in development for the last few years. i haven’t posted anything for it yet, but I’ve thought about it a lot

Dib freezes as Zim points the plastic water gun at his head. Zim’s eyes are narrowed, lips pursed, and he adjusts his grip almost nervously. Behind him, Gir is holding a bucket full of water balloons and a pair of neon green star shaped sunglasses. It’d be cute if Dib wasn’t aware of how painful Earth water is to his Irken skin.

Zim finally lowers his gun slightly. “I want some answers, alien.” He looks Dib over with critical eyes. “Who are you really, and why are you here?” He reaches back and Gir hands him a water balloon with a big smile. “And you better tell the truth or I’ll bust this over your big head.”

Dib grimaces and watches the balloon. “My name Dib, and I’m a scientist. I’m an Irken, from Irk, and I’m here to learn more about life on this planet.” He holds his hands up, hoping to placate the human gesture for surrender. “I’m not here to harm you or anyone else, promise.”

Zim huffs. “Yeah right. I bet you just came here to laugh at the locals.” He puts on a mocking voice and waves the gun and balloon as he speaks. “‘Stupid, stinking humans. They can’t even travel beyond their own moon, yet. What morons. I bet they descended from pigs with how horrible and stupid they are.’” He jams the gun against Dib’s chest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Dib bites his lower lip and looks away. He can’t deny he hasn’t thought something similar since arriving on Earth, but Zim didn’t have to be so crude and blunt about it.

The two are at a standoff for almost a minute before Zim blows out a long sigh and steps back. He turns to put the balloon back in the bucket, gives Gir a pat on the head, and shoots Dib one last glare. “Stay away from me, Dib. I have enough problems to deal with without having to worry about whether or not it’s safe for my brother to go to school or if I need to watch my back while walking my dog.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Dib says, a little put out.

Zim scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I know better than to believe it.” He turns and tries to smile at Gir but it comes out a little twisted and sad. “C’mon Gir. Let’s go home and get Minimoose and take him to that dog park you like so much.”

Gir gasps and lets out a cheer. “Can we go get ice cream afterwards?”

Zim gives a little laugh, smile turning a bit more genuine. “Yeah, sounds good.”

As they walk away Dib can’t help but wonder why he ever thought Zim was an Irken himself.

#izweek2020 #invader zim #invader zim week #zim #dib #role swap #species swap #iz fantasy au #to be named later #i had nooooo idea how to write about the aesthetics prompt #it really isnt a good writing prompt #tho it's given some FANTASTIC art #i wasnt gonna do this at all bc the prompts arent very writer friendly #but i wrote the angst thing and then i wanted to write some stuff for the role swap #and now here we are #enjoy!!!#mine #kiera writes fics

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anxiousboi-char · 5 years ago

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@basket-full-of-septics‘s Septicart Event, Week 2, Day 3 - Marvin & “Dangerous situation”. I tried to take an unusual approach again and it ended up as my longest work here yet. Oops.

Character(s): Marvin, (???), other(s) mentioned.

Words: ...1.2k

Warning(s): None

Marvin looked proudly at the floor. There it was, a portal to... well, somewhere. But it didn't matter, it was a portal! He finally figured this spell out! He proudly leaned on his desk as he watched the vortex replacing his carpet spin slowly. Until he realized that whatever he rested his hand on was sticky and certainly not wood-like. He stumbled away from it only to see green liquid spilled all over his previous notes. His attempt to create a potion that would allow him to change into an animal.

He was working on both the portal and potion so he could pull off a joke-revenge for one of Chase's pranks, but he didn't realize how bad those two could mix up until now. He desperately tried to wipe the liquid off, but he could already feel it start to affect his body. It was like a stinging feeling slowly making its way from his palm to his chest only to leave the sense of something heavy pressing on it. Then, an itching seemingly coming from inside as his bones seemed to change shapes. It wasn't painful, just very weird and unnatural.

He kept stumbling until he felt the floor under his feet suddenly disappear. And before he knew it, he fell through his own portal and lost consciousness somewhere along the way, before the transformation reached a more serious point. When he finally woke up, his body was sore and the first thing he noticed was the moon above his head. His eyes were surprisingly used to the darkness, but he had only so little time to enjoy it before he realized the reason.

The moment he tried to stand up, it became obvious to him that he was no longer human. If he could, he probably would've screamed, but his mouth no longer allowed him to make such sounds. He quickly looked himself over as his panic arose and he could clearly see what he turned into. A white, fluffy cat. And he wasn't amused by this change at all. Another thing, the place he woke up in. It was now obvious that it was a clearing in the middle of a forest. Great.

He tried to focus and think. The portal couldn't lead anywhere further than 20 miles away from his house. ...Which was a huge radius, but it was safe to assume that he would eventually find his way back. Eventually. But for now, he had to just start walking. His only clue was that there was only one forest near, far West from the house. Following this logic, if he would head East he would eventually end up in more familiar surroundings. At home, he would only need to find a way to inform the others of his situation and get someone to make the cure for him. And so, he just started walking.

The sun was close to rising and he still was navigating between the trees, when he made one step he apparently shouldn't have made. A snapping sound appeared from under his tiny cat feet and something fell off the tree above him. He closed his eyes and when he allowed himself to look around again, he realized that there was a cage around him. Big enough to fit a far more dangerous animal, but with makeshift bars too close to each other to allow him to leave. He started looking for a way out, he didn't like the idea of staying inside of it too much.

Something moved in the nearby bushes and soon enough, a man with a huge backpack emerged from between them, carefully approaching what Marvin assumed was his trap. The stranger needed a moment to notice him, but when their eyes met, he relaxed and knelt next to the bars. He seemed to find the situation... funny? Well, the magician didn't, that's for sure.

The man said something. And he was obviously speaking clearly, in English. He wasn't slurring his words, he wasn't mumbling... but yet for some reason, Marvin couldn't understand him. He was able to hear the spoken words, he just couldn't find their meanings... Why was that? Was this a side effect of being a cat? Most likely... But what was this hunter saying?

It seemingly didn't matter, since, after a moment, he got up and removed a part of the cage. He then reached inside and carefully picked Marvin up to get him out of the trap. As much as the magician would've appreciated the freedom, he certainly didn't like being help up. And so, since he figured out how to use his claws a while earlier, he started to angrily scratch at the man's hands. The hunter, visibly unfazed, finally got him out and put him down.

The magician relaxed, fixed up his fur and started to walk when... he realized that there were footsteps following. And again, the man was speaking. What was he saying? Why was he following him? Did he get concerned about a lonely cat wandering through the forest? Little did he know, that 'cat' was a skilled magician in rush to get home. But whenever Marvin would start to walk, the man would follow.

Eventually, he even dared to approach him and set something down on the ground right by Marvin's paws. He said something again, chuckling at the end. Was he making fun of Marvin? Mocking him? Did he think this was funny? And what did he even put on the ground-?!

A map.

It was a map. Marvin's eyes widened as he looked around, analyzing it. Searching for his home. Meanwhile, the man pointed to where presumably they were now. The magician finally found the place where his destination lied and, without thinking more about it, he walked onto the map and started to scratch at it. The man's face shifted to confusion. He said something more again, this time muttering.

Suddenly, he scooped the map up and, after rechecking it, he put it in his pocket and turned to Marvin again. He reached for him and picked him up again. No amounts of scratching could get him to let go as he carried what he assumed was a cat through the forest. In the end, Marvin gave up and just allowed the stranger to do whatever he thought was right. And not long later, he realized that the man was actually taking him the way his house was.

It was already day when they reached the building in which Marvin and other egos lived. The hunter knocked on the door and soon enough someone answered. Chase. The man and the ego exchanged a couple of words, none of which the magician could understand. Though judging by Chase's expression, he was insisting that they didn't have a cat. Not seeing any other way out of this situation, he simply tried to wiggle out of the stranger's grip. The man set him down and he immediately ran inside, making his way to his room as confused Chase followed and even more confused man stayed by the door. Chase stopped eventually and watched the 'cat' claw at the door to his room. He spoke out and this one word was somehow understandable.

"...Marvin?" he said. The magician immediately tried to nod while still trying to get into his own room. The next words Chase said were no longer clear, but easy to predict. "...Oh God."

#I stan the guy that just saw a cat scratch at a map and immediately just went like 'guess I'm on a quest now'#And this guy *is* a character. I'm just not dropping names yet #my writing #fic.char #SepticBasket #SepticBasket2020 #Marvin #marvin the magnificent #jse marvin #1k+ words

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the-gunslock · 5 years ago

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HIVER 8 - BALLET TONNERRE

Hiver and Amanda cuddle in the bed in a cloudy morning, the former staring blankly at the ceiling thinking about her next course of action, and the latter inspecting her lover’s face and ethereal eyes for any trace of emotion. They have been talking for around an hour now, no rush to put their clothes on since their first time together.

“...Think ya should look for the Techeuns on that.” Amanda says, rubbing her fingertip up and down on Hiver’s sternum. “Heard that Awoken dreams usually have a deeper meaning, might help you find somethin’ ‘bout yourself, darlin’.”

“Sure, that’s a good idea. Huh…” Hiver props herself on her elbows, thinking and turning to Amanda. “Honey, can you do a drawing for me?”

“What of?”

“An outfit. I’m going to the Dreaming City.”

“Ally-oop!” The shipwright says, bouncing on the bed and straddling the Warlock, holding her wrists in place and moving her face close to hers, causing her to struggle playfully. “Who said you could?”

“NOOOOOO!” Hiver half-shouts, barely containing her laughter.

She plants a deep kiss on her girlfriend’s mouth, moving her hands from her wrists and intertwining her fingers with hers. As Hiver relaxes her body and closes her eyes, Amanda moves close to her ear.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She whispers.

“What is it?”

Amanda sits back up on Hiver’s lap, pulling her into a forehead kiss.

“You’ll always be the one I love, no matter who you were before. What matters is who you are now. ‘Kay?”

Hiver moves in to touch her forehead with her own. “Okay.” The blonde woman smiles.

“Can we never leave this bed?”

In response, Hiver holds her and lifts her by her bottom, causing her to entangle her arms and human leg around her body, like a sloth holding on to its favorite branch. “Guess that’s a no. How’re you so strong for someone so tiny?” She asks as Hiver kisses her neck and opens her bathroom door.

“It’s just a ten centimeter difference,” the Warlock answers, putting her girlfriend on top of a vacant section of the sink. “I’m not that shorter than you. I’ll run the bath for us.”

“You’re the perfect height.” They chit chat as the bath goes full, with Hiver asking Trinity to send her details of how the outfit needs to look, down to color and texture. Soon they are fully geared, riding Hiver’s Bronco to the Tower, Amanda saving a page on her industrial-model-and-doodle-filled sketchbook.

Hiver went to orbit to trace a course for the Dreaming City. While on her workstation, Amanda quickly makes a croquis of a person (With Hiver’s hair for guidance) and starts trying to delve into the mental image of her lover’s visions.

As she went, it was evident that is was some sort of modified, dark purple ball gown that an asymmetrical cascading skirt, sprinkled with a sparkly, golden star-like gradient fading from the hip. The top part has a wide neckline that is semi-disconnected from the dress’s ¾ sleeves, both of their hems lined with black fur. The back of the dress - as she had also sketched - was deeply cut out, exposing the user’s entire back.

As a final touch, it has a silk, glittering sash over the waistband, secured with a little brimstone brooch shaped like an eight pointed star. After signing her name and scribbling some notes about the fabric and the texture, Amanda cracks her fingers, hoping it would be enough for Hiver to begin a search.

“Wait a minute…” Amanda narrows her eyes at her drawing while stretching her wrist. She is missing something that feels very obvious, and she bites her lip as she tries to figure out what it is.

Nevertheless, she sends the image of her sketch to Trinity, going back to seeing about ships and waiting for Hiver to respond. Soon, her tablet notifies her about an incoming audio message.

“Yes, yes! It’s perfect. I hope Petra or the Techeuns have something to say about this. Thanks, babe, I love you infinity ♥”

“Anytime, darling. Love you infinity times infinity ♥” Amanda replies with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Whatcha smiling at?” A voice calls from above. She doesn’t even need to turn around to know who it is, just rolling her eyes at the sound.

“Hey, Luna.” She greets, putting her tablet away and turning back to the ship engine that needs repairing. “Did a drawing from Hiver’s dream, now she’s seeing if she can find anything ‘bout it. Dunno if it’s any lead, but one can dream.”

“Can we see it?” Luna’s Ghost, Frost, asks, ever curious.

“Notebook’s on my desk.”

Luna picks up the notebook, looking over the messy, albeit practical strokes of Amanda’s drawing of the gown. She had a talent for this, and Luna made a mental note to remind her not to waste it.

“Interesting. You draw very well!” The Hunter says, closing the notebook. “Where did she go?”

“Thanks. Dreaming City. Talk to Petra.”

The Hunter makes a flustered expression remembering her Queen’s Wrath crush, and for a second she considers going there just to see her for some time.

“Not saying that goin’ there is a bad idea, but I’m totally sayin’ goin’ there’s a bad idea. Hiver’s dead set on this and she might kill you if you try to interrupt.” Amanda says, not turning her head from the engine.

Luna and her Ghost trade shocked looks. “What can be so important that she might kill me of all people over?”

“Herself. Leave her do her thing, Petra ain’t dying anytime soon.” Amanda reassures, leaving the “I think” part of the sentence in her thoughts.

“...Sure. Good luck, you two.” The Nightstalker says before walking away.

“Likewise.”

Hiver’s ship flies through the skies and crisp marble-like towers of Rheasilvia, spotting the Queenswrath on radar and transmatting near her position, as she aims her scout rifle at the Taken below.

“Petra!” She calls out with a plastic case and tumbler in hand, making the woman turn around. “I need your help, and come bearing a peace offering.”

“What for, cousin? We aren’t enemies.”

“All the more reason why you should enjoy it.” She hands Petra the case, containing many still hot triangle sandwiches filled with ham and various vegetables. Her eye glistens and her stomach growls when she smells the Warlock’s gift of a fresh meal.

“Surely, you have my attention.”

“So…” Petra says, sipping from the tea that Hiver brought to her. “you see yourself dance in this garment, and you believe that it may be connected to your past life?”

“Exactly.”

“I think it would be useful to see this dance you refer to, Guardian. With your measurements, in a couple days, we can get this dress done.”

Trinity starts scanning Hiver’s body to conveniently get her measurements and send them to Petra. “What do we owe you all?”

“How about a favor? You help me clean this section’s buildings, ridding it of the Taken, and in exchange you use it to show us your… mysterious dance. I don’t know why, they just -- keep coming back. Argh. Filthy demons.”

Hiver pulls out her Ace of Spades and twirls it in her hand. “Then we just gotta keep killing them.”

With her cannon and her cheery attitude, Petra remembers Cayde for a moment before coming back to reality.

“We got incoming.” Trinity states to the women, who go alert as a Blight materializes in front of them.

“Petra, have this.” Hiver passes her Le Monarque bow and its arrows to Petra, certain that she would be on her best element if she used it, her grin being a good enough confirmation. Together, they jump off the perch and run on towards the Rheasilvia temples, firing at the many Taken units and Blights that block their path.

After a while of dynamic and surprisingly fluid combat (Given they had barely worked together before) they manage to secure the temples and rooms needed for the Dreaming City’s Corsairs and Techeuns to resume work. One of them has a very large, circular space in the middle, almost like some sort of theater. Seems like it would be the spot.

“I’ll stay in this area for a while, so the Corsairs can set up a base of operations. Once your dress is done, I’ll call you ASAP.”

Hiver extends a hand to the Queenswrath, who shakes it vigorously while looking at each other’s eyes.

“Cousin, I’m sorry. What was your name again?” Petra asks for reminder, making sure she knew who to call once the dress was ready.

“It’s Hiver.”

“Of course. What does it mean?”

“An Earth language word. Means “Winter.” Until next time, Petra. I’m just a message away.”

Petra eyes the intricate black and red weapon in her hand, almost forgetting she held it. “Hiver, your bow!”

“Oh. It’s called Le Monarque, after a type of butterfly.” Hiver says, pulling out Trinity in order to be transmatted into her ship, ready to join her Fireteam. “You can have it for now, Petra. Take good care of it.”

With that, the Guardian vanishes, leaving Petra puzzled. She narrows her eye in thought.

“...What is a butterfly?”

Regardless, the Queenswrath is interested in the capabilities of this new heirloom. She decides to do some field-testing with it, grabbing another glowing arrow off its quiver and stepping outdoors once more, pulling back the string.

“What’d ya get?”

“Not much yet. Petra is working to get the dress done. In the meanwhile, I’ll just… go about my days.” The Warlock says, lying in boredom atop her girlfriend’s workstation. “Hey, you need any help?”

“Sorry babe, I’m good.”

Hiver groans. Nothing piqued her interest yet since she was so invested in finding out what she was seeing. Amanda would love to help, but as always, she was shackled to her work schedule and couldn’t do much else except talk and give her the occasional kiss or nuzzle.

“Darlin’?” Amanda says, sitting straight in her desk, looking at a circuit board she was tinkering with.

“Yes?”

“Can ya run some Arc through this? Wanna see if it works.”

Hiver jumps down to the workshop, quickly locating the electrical parts of the circuit, and powering it just enough for it to display an image on a screen Amanda had it connected to.

“Whew, fixed. Thank you, Hiver.”

Hiver gives a happy smile for being useful, ready to go back to the roof.

“So… How ‘bout we put a smile on that face?” Amanda says, putting her work gloves back on and turning to her. “Did I tell ya I managed to sell my place?”

The Awoken’s blue eyes widen.

“You’re moving in with me?” Hiver yelps excitedly, drawing more attention than she would like from the Hangar workers. She didn’t care. Her eyes were shining, (More than usual) with anticipation and glee.

“Ahaha, YEAH!” The shipwright adorably bounces in place. She has been waiting for this, and it felt very comforting to finally break it to her girlfriend. They hug intensely while giggling.

“I’ll need to negotiate a day off to move my stuff to your apartment. That’s gonna be fun.”

“I can contact my clan, see if they can help us do it. Everyone needs to put their backs into something.”

Soon after they returned to their spots, Hiver starting to message her friends to get assistance on remaking her girlfriend’s new home.

Two days after, Hiver returns to the Dreaming City due to receiving a call from Petra, containing a picture of the dress she had asked for, perfectly replicated down to the last detail. The Awoken were nothing if not meticulous in their craft, no matter what it was. Hence, the Guardian was eager to try it out and dance, even having warmed up and practiced it that morning. It felt weaved into her soul, even more than the Light.

She doesn’t know why.

As her ship soars over the spot she helped secure days before, Petra waved at her, with the dress being levitated by her side. Touching down, Hiver runs up excitedly to give her fellow Awoken a warm hug, and observe the dress.

It dazzled in the sunlight, the colors being brought out by the flawlessly crisp fabric, the perfectly combed black fur and the jeweled brooch holding up a sash that appeared to be made out of pure nebula. It looked just like she dreamed, and as such she wasted no time putting it on herself. Fit like a glove, and matched her gold pointe shoes perfectly.

Once everyone was watching, she was ready to begin. Trinity put on an ancient serene, orchestral music so Hiver could get started. The Warlock closed her eyes, and, when she opened them, the building, Petra, the three Techeuns, the City, all was gone.

What she saw was a black, starry sky, blending in with a vast, calm ocean on the horizon, a moonlight-like glow coating her skin. She danced fluidly, with passion and grace, treading a path on the water, as if the ocean’s surface tension would break if she made a single misstep. Every touch of her toes was mere ripple, a reflection of delicacy and image. Sometimes she spun, sometimes she fell, in the end everything was part of a choreography she knew like the back of her hand, but didn’t comprehend.

As the song comes to an end, she sat on the ground on her knees, a hand raised, and closed her eyes once more. When they opened, she was back at her previous scenery, and the Awoken women stared, interested but intrigued. From their faces, Hiver could tell something struck a chord, but she could not tell if it was a good or bad one. No one said a word save for whispering among themselves, and after a while she had her answer.

“Cousin,” Petra called her attention, “we are going to run an archive query. Your performance is not unfamiliar, but neither of us was able to recall it immediately.”

Hiver could only nod and hope that she wasn’t wasting everyone’s time. She had already put in so much effort into finding the results, it had to be here somewhere.

Right?

Commander Zavala’s Ghost notifies him of an incoming video message, sent with utmost urgency to the Vanguard channel. Calmly, he turns around on his viewpoint on the Tower and nods at Ghost to put it through.

“Commander Zavala.” The woman with the eyepatch addressed in the recording.

“This is Acting Regent-Commander Petra Venj of the Reef. Recently one of your Awoken Guardians, a Warlock by the name of ‘Hiver’, has had a inadverted run-in with Awoken history, and the Techeuns request that she and her wife, Chief Shipwright Amanda Holliday, get permission to leave their post and come to the Dreaming City as soon as they can. Thank you for your attention, Commander Zavala. Petra out.”

Zavala furrows his brows. It was curious, for rarely did the Awoken need to contact Earth’s citizens for anything since their Queen was gone — much less a non-Guardian.

He relays the message to Holliday, asking that she reach out to her ‘wife’, and warning that she has permission to leave for the day as long as necessary. He trusts this has nothing to do with City affairs, but he is still on alert. After about fifteen minutes, he spots Amanda’s Cerulean Flash jumpship leaving the Hangar, towards the Reef’s ghost city.

KA-CLINK. Thud.

Every bullet of the flamboyant Hunter’s black and gold Tatara Gaze sniper rifle was one more Scorn aberration down on the ground. The patrol she has been doing for the Corsairs had been rewarding, and in time she would be ready for whatever bigger threat the Dreaming City brought upon her.

“Luna, heads up.” Her little drone says.

“What is it, Frost?” She asks, standing up in the moundtop of Divallian Mists.

“I detected two of your most contacted frequencies approaching the Dreaming City.” Frost states, spinning.

“The Gunslock and?” Luna says sarcastically.

“Heh. Her girlfriend.”

“Amanda? What is she doing out here?! If something gets her, it’s over!”

“Pretty sure Hiver will look out for her. Still, want to go see what they’re doing? I reckon they’ll speak to Petra.”

Summoning her Harbinger’s Echo Sparrow, she launches it on the ground and speeds towards Rheasilvia.

“Hey girl.” Amanda greets the Regent-Commander after getting out of transmat.

“Hello, Petra. Got any news for me?” Hiver says with a smile, hiding her concern for being called so urgently.

Petra silently motions for them to sit on the ground, where laid a picnic towel-like object with circular patterns, holding a book and a Reefmade data pad in her hand. She had some food with her, a retribution for Hiver’s “peace offering” days before.

“I do have news.”

Sitting with the Earth women, Petra pulls up a page on her book. Hiver and Amanda look at each other nervously, wondering what the big deal was.

“Cousin.”

“Yes?” She answers, startled.

“Do you remember when you first arrived here?”

“We activated the Oracle Engine. Found out Mara is alive. Now the Guardians freed Sedia, Shuro Chi and Kalli, and we’re trying to contain the curse.”

“Your Ghost.” Petra motions to Trinity. “She spoke to me, and asked about the Dreaming City. I told her about how the Awoken have built hidden cities, scattered throughout the Reef, not unlike this one.”

“I remember that.” Trinity mentions.

Petra hands the ragged book to the women as they eat. It apparently speaks of these Cities — some lost to time, some unseen, most unheard of to Guardians. It’s written partly in English, and part in other languages they don’t seem to understand.

“In some, we live and raise kids, in others you make weapons. Here, you meditate and learn…” Trinity continues. Luna, having just arrived, perches herself in a nearby rock, where she can hear the women talking.

“And in some specific ones, we develop our art. Artistry is a must for any civilization that develops critical thought and self-expression. You, Hiver…” She motions to the Warlock. “And you, Amanda…” She motions to the human. “Have seen it in our tapestry. Our tailoring. Our blacksmithing...”

“Your sculpture, architecture…” Hiver continues. Amanda widens her eyes in disbelief.

“Your dance.” Amanda spouts. Hiver is left mute, and Petra nods.

“Our dances… art made to celebrate our bodies. Our Queen. Our energy, and the fact that we breathe. And, may I add…” Petra says, ominously leaning closer.

“Like everything else you haven’t been allowed to see, they are very well-guarded secrets. Family and teacher heirlooms, in a way.”

Hiver and Amanda nervously trade looks.

“Hiver, listen to me, and listen well to what I am about to tell you.”

Hiver is breathing heavily through her teeth, trying to contain her ever-growing anxiety. Petra puts both hands on her shoulders, staring at her face seriously.

“You are Reefborn.”

#destiny 2 #destiny oc #destiny warlock #destiny fic #oc x canon #hiver the gunslock #amanda holliday #petra venj

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cosmonaughtt · 6 years ago

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how I'd rewrite Danny Phantom

forever salty that elmer glue ruined such a good concept so it’s my territory now

Ghosts are dead, 100%. The science behind it is very paranormal investigation-y but the Fenton family is ten thousand times better than the other “ghost hunters” of their time.

Also, there are some ghosts that come from metaphorical deaths. I.E. Pandora, she technically didn’t exist but when the Ancient Greek culture died out, so did the gods and goddesses. They’re not technically ghosts but they are ectoplasm-based, so they get lumped in with them.

The Fenton family has been a bit dysfunctional for the past four years (10-14 for Danny, 12-16 for Jazz) because it took four years for Jack and Maddie to build the ghost portal. Jazz took over and learned how to really clean the house, while Danny learned how to cook. He’s not the best, but Danny can definitely make some good Ramen from scratch.

Maddie and Jack realized a bit later that the portal had overtaken their life and feel really bad for abandoning their kids, and when it didn’t work they tried to rekindle those relationships. Even with it working, they still do.

We all know what happened when the portal finished; it didn’t work. Because Jack put a switch on the inside that should’ve been on the outside, not the “on-off” button. The switch was loose and when Danny knocked into it, the portal turned on, because it was just waiting for a little spark-- like how when a cord is not totally plugged in.

This was the beginning of summer, around the end of May, and a month after it was technically done. Danny (no stranger to the hospital, he’d been in a few times when he was younger because he was born two weeks premature) was in the hospital until August, a few weeks before school started. He was exempt from his eighth-grade exams and passed all of his classes, so the district let him slide.

Danny doesn’t have an ice core. As cool as it is (pun intended) it makes no sense in the narrative. Like, he was electrocuted, and he’s got the “ghost-stinger” ability, why would he have ICE POWERS? He’s got an electricity core instead (slightly inspired by the electric undead oops).

His ghost sense is less of a mist and more of a gut feeling, and he literally becomes a static electricity magnet.

Danny’s character is a bit closer to the show.

He's quiet around strangers, but open with his friends. Trust thing.

Still made fun of for being the kid of two weird parents, but he’s honestly used to it by high school. He’s also bullied for his autism and ADHD, but he’s been bullied for them for about ten years so he’s used to it.

Still wants to be an astronaut-- science is his best subject, second to math. History is his third-best, he hates English and Gym class.

He’s tiny and scrawny, like a toothpick. It comes from being a sick child, though after the accident he’s able to lean out and gain a bit of “muscle”.

After the accident, he gets a bit paler than he was before and doesn’t tan. There’s also a Lichtenberg scar covering about half of the right side of his body from the accident, going from his fingertips, up his arm and over his chest, neck, about down to his knee.

He’s incredibly self-conscious about it but it doesn’t hurt, weirdly enough. For the “first season” he covers up and wears a lot of sweaters and long-sleeves.

His pulse and body temperature are much below normal. The hospital was concerned with this after the accident, but after a few days of him seeming fine, they had to drop it. Danny can also hold his breath about five times longer than a normal human.

Is he half-dead? Yes, technically. Does he not try and think about his mortality? Yes.

He enjoys puns and jokes still, though he makes them more as Phantom.

Speaking of Phantom, no, he doesn’t go by “Danny Phantom”. Just Phantom. He is trying to avoid dissection from his parents, you know.

Phantom has no scars from the accident, the only thing that he has in common with his human half is the mole on his cheek, but it’s green now (because yes, both halves have freckles!) because of his ectoplasm. He’s much more floaty, and if you don’t focus on him he looks like he’s made of television static. He also has little fangs.

You can see his details better up close, and the longer you spend with Phantom, the more details you can see. All ghosts are like that, their energy is on the fritz all the time and human eyes need to adjust to it to understand certain features. The only reason Sam and Tucker know him right away is because they watched him, y’know...

Danny is asexual, only realizing the identity in the middle of freshman year when Sam literally had to explain that yes, Danny, sexual attraction is a thing and not made up. (Based on my own experience.)

Sam and Tucker are both different in this story, but they still remain Danny’s only friends. They have other friends, though.

Sam is still goth.

She wears all black and even dyed her ginger hair black. There aren’t many surviving photos of Sam with her natural hair, she made sure of it.

Sam is like... punk-goth? Punk-goth-grunge? She identifies as goth, but her clothes can fit all three categories, really.

100% bisexual, has bi pins all over her bag. Out to her parents, who are slowly trying to understand. She doesn’t mind they/them pronouns, either, and her gender identity is just a shrug with middle fingers.

She knows a lot of the LGBT students at school and is the vice-president of the GSA she helped found.

Both Sam and Danny had a mutual crush on each other through half of freshman year and all of eighth grade, Sam decided that she’d rather be friends and Danny realized it was mostly him wanting to be friends.

Sam is vegan. She isn’t as pushy about it as she is in the show (I feel like it was extreme and really made fun of vegans/vegetarians, I know it’s a kids show but still) and all of her family is vegan, too. She’s big on animal rights, but recognizes the line to not cross.

Her family is also Jewish, like in canon.

Though she did campaign and successfully get the school cafeteria to have a “Tofu Tuesday” every other week, so that’s something, at least! (And where Mystery Meat would start)

Still mourns My Chemical Romance, into all music like that.

Tucker is still a “nerd”, but he doesn’t get picked on by the jocks for being a nerd.

He’s pretty hipster, too. His red beret is now a red beanie, and he has naturally curly hair poking out. He loves his natural hair, he just loves the beanie.

His “nerd” seems from his technological abilities. He has the latest smartphone a month after it comes out, and always has a “tablet”/iPad knockoff in his bag. He knows how to take things apart and sell them for money, and is also pretty good at programming.

Tucker DEFINITELY has a gaming channel. He only has about 3,000 subscribers, but that’s still pretty good. His most-popular video is him talking about the Indie game industry. He might try and program some of his own games (ahemPhantomfangameahem)

He loves meat, just like in the show. He jokes about it a lot with Sam, and Sam jokes back. Sometimes they can lead into fights if neither are in the mood, but both of them are pretty good-natured about it.

Tucker is a ladies-man, and a man’s-man, and a nonbinary’s-man-- he’s pansexual. Doesn’t figure out that’s a thing until he stays behind school one day to help Sam with the GSA, but once he does he’s out and proud. Still flirts terribly, though, but now no one is immune from his terrible flirts.

Scared of doctors and needles-- had a bad experience as a child, projects it on everything medicine-related. Tries to avoid taking medicine at all cost, unless it’s really severe. Hates flu season, can be a bit of a hypochondriac/germaphobe. Has one of those Bath and Body Works hand sanitizer things on his bag.

Out of the trio, he’s more terrified of the ghosts, though after a while he gets used to them.

The A-Listers and school remain mostly the same.

Wes Weston is 100% a thing.

The A-Listers are more preppy than before, and definitely try and get away with what they can with modern fashion-- at least, Paulina and Star will. Dash and Kwan are a bit fashion-deaf (Kwan. Owns. Crocs.)

They’re still jerks and Dash still picks on Danny a lot, but the teachers are more competent and he can’t get away with more physical stuff unless no one is looking. Dash is probably a victim of his own domestic abuse at home and takes it out on people-- totally wrong and not moral, but he doesn’t think there’s much of an option. Only Kwan and Paulina know about his situation.

Kwan is pretty smart and strong, but he dresses like a disaster. He mostly sticks to wearing his letterman jacket and a black t-shirt and jeans, but if he ever has to “dress-up” or wears something else, it’s awful. Cargo shorts galore. Crocs. Someone get the Fab 5 to help him, please.

Paulina is pretty prissy, and doesn’t like getting dirty often. She’s a cheerleader and she’s good at it, but she’s only second-in-command of the squad, or however that works. She doesn’t mind, less work for her to do, and the person in charge enjoys it a lot. Paulina tends to make fun of Sam and Tucker’s clothes often, and like the rest of the A-Listers, everything listed above for Danny (sans the Phantom thing). Once Phantom becomes big, she gets a huge celebrity crush on him, probably has ten different Stan accounts for him.

Star is the head cheerleader, and enjoys every moment of it. She also enjoys math, and she’s really good at that too. Of the canon characters, only Danny can keep up. She isn’t good at much else academia-wise, though she does enjoy a bit of biology and forensics. Much smarter than most people think-- it will astound you.

Valerie is a part of their squad at first, only because she, Paulina and Star live in the same neighborhood. After Valerie moves to an apartment, their friendship falls apart after a big fight-- this is entirely not ghost-related, by the way. Vlad only contacts her after learning that her dad was hurt in a ghost attack and Phantom wasn’t there to help, and emotionally manipulates her.��She becomes the Red Huntress and hunts Danny, and they do date for a few months before calling it quits. I’m not big on shipping, per say, but if there has to be a canon endgame, it’ll be these two.

Wes Weston. He’s technically canon? I guess? But also fanon? Either way, having a character like Wesley Weston trying to expose Danny as Phantom and always failing is hilarious, but can also introduce other things into the series as well. How does Wes know? Is he like, psychic, or something...?

Oh, and Vlad.

He’s much more emotionally manipulative. Danny was really considering having him train him in ghost-powers and stuff until Vlad made an off-comment about Jack, and Danny saw through the act.

They’re very much enemies. Not frenemies, but enemies. Danny is terrified of Vlad, but doesn’t want him to hurt his family.

Vlad, above all, wants a family. He missed out on those years being in and out of the hospital because of his own, botched accident, and he has scars all over his face from the “ecto-acne” that he hides with makeup.

He’s equivalent to Elon Musk, but less of a weeabo. DALV Corporations has a lot more stock in experimental sciences, though, including paranormal investigation. When he learns that Jack and Maddie had successfully created the Ghost Portal, he puts a lot more funding into their projects and reconnects.

Still got the creepy Maddie-crush. Does get a cat named Matti, though (no connection or correlation, shut up, Daniel). Hates Jack because of his own accident, and begins to despise him even more for not noticing the scars left on Danny’s accident, too.

Less of a vampire in ghost form. He has a fire core, which makes a lot of his ectoplasm heat-based. Probably has laser eyes that Danny desperately tries to emulate but alas, cannot. The only reason he has a leg up on Danny is experience, not strength. He was only blasted in the face, not the whole body, after all.

At some point there’s probably an argument with Vlad and the Fentons and he decides “screw it” and makes an offset of DALV that focuses on ghost-hunting.

No Mayor thing, but he does move away from Wisconsin to live in Amity Park.

Amity Park is... Well, it’s something.

It was already a pretty creepy town before the ghosts get involved.

There’s always been unexplained murders, disappearances, and strange lights in the sky that no one could identify—a lot of hints towards something other-than-ghosts existing, which makes sense.

Amity Park is much weirder after the ghost portal opens. Not because of the ghost attacks and their ghostly superhero, but because the veil was torn a bit, and it was felt throughout the town.

On the moment of Danny’s accident, there was a massive power outage, and they become a bit more frequent to everyone’s dismay. Much of the older residents of the town are against ghosts—if excepting Phantom, on occasion. The younger residents are more open to the undead spectres, though, and are much less afraid of them.

Phantom becomes a youth icon, and his twitter account that started off small and as a joke gets him national popularity.

Tucker, naturally, rides this wave and gets a giant boost in YouTube subscribers, especially after he posted a few videos with Phantom. No one questions this except the A-Listers, who just want to know howhe did this.

Okay that’s enough of an info-dump I don’t want to spoil everything. I’ll probably post this stuff on my ao3—calling this story “Hero Complex” for now, still working on the title.

#Danny phantom #Danny phantom au #Danny Phantom rewrite #dp rewrite #dp #the cosmos speak #hero complex

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i4z-0892-il · 6 years ago

Text

Monster House 3

Summary: Posing as Newlyweds Sam and Y/n set out to investigate what’s killing the visitors of a secluded Inn, and attempt to keep their working relationship professional.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word count: 6100 Oops, my keyboard slipped

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, suggestive themes, language

A/N: TROPES.

Buy Sam’s Scent Here from @scentsfromthebunker (And damn does it smell goooooood)

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

After following the main trail for nearly half a mile it was quickly decided that the most effective course of action would be to get off the path. Neither of you were exactly sure what you were looking for, but you could both agree that whatever it was you weren’t going to find it sitting like a silver platter on a main path. However, actually stepping off of it and wandering aimlessly through the dense forest surrounding you was another matter. There shouldn’t have been a reason to worry, after all you were in the company of Sam Winchester, one of the deadliest hunters alive. If anyone should have been worried it should be whatever you were hunting. Even still the chill that slid up your spine earlier never really faded away.

Realistically that unsettled feeling could have been a number of things. You were nervous. Even though you wanted to find the thing that was snatching bodies, you also really didn’t want to find the thing that was snatching bodies. The classic double-edged sword! If you find it you could stop it and kill it, or it could stop and kill you- always a gamble. And you did not like that shit at all. Dense wilderness also put you on edge, but that was from growing up in West Virginia where there was more forest than not, and from knowing exactly what was out there.

Certain parts of the wild should not be visited. Of that you were sure, beyond shadow of a doubt.

Since you could remember you were told to stay away from specific parts of the forests surrounding the tiny town tucked in the mountains where you grew up in. Everyone knew. No one talked about it, but everyone knew. The Wilderness to the North-West was home to something far older and more dangerous than any gun in that town.

There were rules everyone knew to abide by. And only the very stupid or very foolish chose not to listen.

Don’t go into the woods at night.

Never give out your real name- or anyone’s.

If you feel you’re being watched stay calm and get out without a fuss.

Take nothing from the forest because it will want it back.

When you see the fog, leave.

Don’t listen to the whispers, ignore the strange knockings.

Close the doors and windows, and don’t look outside.

If something is following you don’t ever turn around.

In your youth you were both stupid and foolish.

The rules your father tried to drill into your thick skull never stopped you from playing in the forbidden woods. When you were little you’d run through those trees like it was your own personal playground, it was magical and enchanted and it was all yours. Everywhere you stepped in those woods was warm and inviting, like a little bubble of safety all around you. You talked to the trees, and though they never talked back you felt loved and safe.

Until you got older. Sometimes it was inviting like it was when you were just a kid, other times it was warning you to stay away.

It was September and you were fifteen when it happened- when it turned on you. Walking home from school you cut through the trees. You knew that forest like the back of your hand and the idea of shaving nearly twenty minutes off of your walk was just a little too tempting. It was still warm, and everything was golden with that afternoon hue, just before the sun starts to set, and you weren’t afraid. You were just over half way home when the shift happened. That sudden change in the air that made you stop, body frozen on the spot. The air around you dropping to a temperature so cold you could see the puffs of air coming from your mouth. Everything darkened like the sun had disappeared, but dusk wasn’t for another two hours, and it seemed like the treetops had closed the holes in the canopy trapping you and claustrophobic.

Something felt wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

Heeding the words of your father you forced your legs to move, to carry on your way. Don’t run, don’t panic, don’t be afraid. So you kept your head down, looked straight ahead, and kept going. It wasn’t long before you felt like you weren’t the only one in the woods. And up slithered that cold, creeping hand of fear gripping the back of your neck at the base of your skull, wrapping around your chest like a spider-web making your whole body vibrate in alarm. Your pace sped up as you tried to keep your breath from shaking; as you tried to keep the panic and dread that filled you from your head to your toes at bay.

The thudding of your heart all but stopped when you glanced up and realized you had no idea where you were. It was like you had run straight into a wall of Evergreen or the trees had uprooted themselves and moved just to throw you off. You knew those woods, there was no way you could have gotten lost on a path you had walked more than a thousand times.Yet there you were, standing somewhere that seemed foreign and hostile. Swallowing down the blooming anxiety stuck in your throat you willed yourself to keep moving remembering not to stay still for too long.

Thick rolling fog slid in along the sides of your vision appearing from nowhere and suddenly everywhere. It reached for you with wispy smoke-like tendrils threatening to snag your ankles if you weren’t quick enough. It whispered your name, your name which you had so ignorantly given in your youth. Your heart raced in your chest, blood pumping furiously with adrenaline. Lungs sucked in short, sharp shocks of air as you tried to remain calm to the best of your ability, but you were only holding on by a thread.

When you felt eyes on you it was your undoing. Overcome with dread and fright you took off as fast as your feet could carry you. And the wilderness did not like that. Tearing through the trees they tried to reach out with sharp branches snagging your clothes, and slicing fine lines in your face. But you didn’t slow down, you couldn’t slow down.

It was coming.

It was gaining on you.

The Thing in the Woods.

Your heavy backpack full of school books, binders and papers slowed you down. Without second thought you dropped the dead weight, praying to God or whatever was out there that you made it out alive.

The forest moved, uplifting a root and grabbing your foot taking you to the ground tearing holes in the knees of your jeans, scraping up your hands and splitting your cheek open on a rock beneath you. It didn’t give you pause though, in full flight or fight mode you scrambled to your feet kicking up a flurry of dead leaves as you did. The snapping of branches and footsteps behind you dropped your heart into the pit of your stomach, your nervous system short circuiting as every fiber of your being turned to stone.

Everything fell deathly silent, no rustling of leaves, no wind, no birds or insects. Just the sound of blood pumping in your ears and your ragged breath coming out in wisps of cold mist.

Every limb trembled, quaking with terror as you did what you could to swallow down your panic and turn your head in slow trepidation knowing you had broken nearly every cardinal rule. Dragging your eyes along the forest floor you turned them up and a silent scream caught in your throat.

“Hey, Earth to Y/n-” Sam said waving a hand in front of your face, snapping you from your trance. Like a deer in the headlights your attention was on him, he was looking at you curious and concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” You answered shrugging off your discomfort. Shifting your weight from foot to foot, flustered under the scrutiny of his unsatisfied gaze, you turned your eyes anywhere but his face. Those damn hazel eyes would be the end of you, and you couldn’t stand him staring at you like he genuinely cared for too long. Only after you took a long look around did you realize that you had no idea where you were or for how long you’d been following behind Sam. You blamed it on the woods, they played tricks and you hadn’t been much of a hiker since your youth.

“So I think I saw a house or something just up ahead.” He continued, dropping the fact that you were so very obviously not good. That you hadn’t cracked a joke or made a comment you surely thought was witty for nearly fifteen minutes was clue enough but the spaced out, thousand yard stare plastered on your face sealed the deal. He wasn’t one to push, and you weren’t one to tell, you’d come around when and if you were ready. Even still it was a look he hadn’t seen before.

“Okay, lets go do a B and E.” You agreed with a clap before sweeping your arms to the side in a grand gesture. “After you good Sir.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head walking past you with an eye roll.

“You better be careful rolling them things that hard Sam.” You warned as you followed behind him. He turned his head, confusion creasing his brow. “You’re gonna roll ‘em so far into your head they’ll get stuck like that.”

That pulled a laugh from him, and those dimples you loved so much. You always liked to see him smile, and his laugh seemed to happen so rarely. So when he did it was like looking at the sun, radiant and warm, bringing life to all things.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he saw a house. Although “house” was a rather gracious term for what it was. It looked more like an old hunting cabin that had seen better days, held together by antique nails and the grace of god.

“Wow, this place is a dump.” You said stepping around him and into the small clearing to take in the sight fully, the fact that it was still standing on its own was impressive.

“Really? You don’t want to honeymoon here?” Sam asked as he dropped the strap of his backpack to his hand and knelt to unzip it. You stood with your hands at your hips studying the building that would surely crumble if someone looked at it the wrong way. After a short pause you turned your attention back to him.

“I thought about it, and no. I do not want to honeymoon here. As much fun as tetanus is- I think I’d rather not.” You stated. The corner of his lips pulled up as he grinned at you while extending a handful of silver bullets and a holster. He and Dean might have been content with tucking a loaded gun in the waistband of their jeans- but you were not. You knew how getting shot felt and you were not exactly the most graceful person on the planet either. The combination of the two was a recipe for disaster, and you were not trying to shoot yourself in the ass. It was a nice ass, you had full intention on keeping it that way. Strapping the holster around your thigh and snagging a silver blade from his small arsenal almost instantly made you feel better. Sam geared up and slung the bag over his shoulder again before standing and sweeping hair from his face.

“I don’t know. Clean it up a little, could be nice.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Yout sure? Hang some curtains over the boarded up windows there,” he said pointing to different areas on the house. “A porch swing there. And one of those little welcome mat’s that says ‘Leave’ at the door.”

Hand over your heart you turned charmed eyes up to him, sighing dreamily. “You’re right, it’s like a dream.”

“I knew you’d come around.”

“Oh, yeah Sam, let's build a summer home out of the cabin that’s at the epicenter of every single 80’s horror movie.” You snarked, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Maybe if we’re lucky a portal to hell will open in the basement on nights when the stars align.”

“You know that is exactly how lucky we are.” Sam stated with another laugh, and it cured your depression, acne, and alcoholism all at once.

“Alright, call the realtor. Make ‘em an offer they can’t refuse.”

From about a hundred feet back the place certainly looked abandoned enough. Boards covered nearly every window, most of which were missing entire panes of glass either broken in or fallen out. And it was in serious need of a new paint job, and probably an exterminator- there was no way termites hadn’t taken up residence. Thinking about bugs slowly eating away the foundation of an entire house might not have been the best way to calm your nerves, but it was a better alternative to what you were most assuredly going to find.

The heavy duty padlock and iron chain around the front door did nothing but confirm your suspicions. It was never as easy an explanation as say- a tool shed! No. It was never a fucking tool shed. It was always a house of horrors. Body parts stuffed into jars. Body parts sans the jars. Always body parts. You should have picked a better- less morbid profession.

“Think you can crack it?” You asked, obviously he could. It was dumb to even ask, but Sam gave pause to ponder anyway. He scanned the area, then back to the lock, weighing options.

“Maybe. You go left, I’ll go right, see if we can find a more subtle way in.” He answered finally. Nodding in agreement you walked along the wall looking for a point of access that wouldn’t be so obvious that someone had gone inside. Because that’s exactly what you needed, pick the lock, go in, monster-person-thing comes back to find the chain missing right off the front door. Good point Sam.

More boarded up windows, and fragile wall you might have been able to put a fist clean through if you were curious enough. And jesus fuck if you were not curious. Putting a hand on the wall you gave a little push, and there was enough give that it only granted credibility to your theory, and a little more excitement than maybe was healthy. But who didn’t want to just full on kick in a fucking wall? Crazy people. That’s who. Though that would have been arguably way less subtle than just cracking open the padlock. The argument being the cabin was falling apart anyway. The human foot sized hole would have been slightly more difficult to explain, so you tucked the urge away in the back of your mind. Begrudgingly.

Carrying on you reached a cellar door, and a set of tiny windows lining the bottom of the cabin, one of them was busted nearly completely open. Yahtzee. With a quick chirping whistle you drew Sam’s attention who rounded the corner of the house to meet you. A casual toss of your head to the side let his eyes trail to the window you were looking at.

“There’s no way I’ll fit in that, I’m way too big.” He commented without missing a beat. You snorted a laugh, biting the inside of your lips into a flat line, closing your eyes and shaking your head. How many times had he said that in his life? When you regained more control of your face and opened your eyes again he was looking at you with that perfected bitch-face, which while oh-so-judgy was still pretty damn hot. You shrugged, proclaiming your innocence.

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

He didn’t have to respond, it was clear as day what you were thinking. He moved to the cellar doors, like a normal thinking person and pulled to no avail.

“Guess it’s locked from the inside there Buckaroo.” You said peering over his shoulder, his eyes cut to you, there was that bitch-face again. With a huff he stood upright, you always liked standing close enough to him to really let his height sink in. Sam always made you feel so tiny and small, and little, like his huge frame could just swallow you whole. Not that you ever spent entirely too much time thinking about how easily he could crush you in his toned, muscular, perfectly sunkissed arms or anything. Or how he could lift you off your feet and over his head like you weighed absolutely nothing. Focus!

The cellar doors wouldn’t open which meant your plan was the most viable one on the table. And if Sam couldn’t fit through that little window it left one option. You were going to have to do it. A shudder of distaste and resentment snaked up your back. You were going to have to crawl through some busted ass window, in some creepy ass basement of a creepy ass cabin in the middle of some creepy ass woods. And god only knew what you might find inside- human jars, jars made from humans, blood paint. Eyeball soup. Buffalo Bill. Who the fuck knew. Suddenly your plan seemed a lot less fun than it did a minute ago.

“Okay, welp. Guess I’m going in.” You said shaking the jitters out of your body through your hands. Sam would never tell you that he enjoyed watching you screw your courage to the sticking place, but it was absolutely entertaining. You were kind of like a kid in a play getting ready to go deliver a monologue at the crux of the plot, who had stage fright and were bouncing up and down offstage with nervous energy. He had to hand it to you, you never backed down, and there was no denying he admired your bravery. In another life you probably would have been a Teacher or Optometrist, or some kind of niche artist. Definitely something softer, much less gritty and gory. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself, he had no doubts about you and your iron will. But if the life hadn’t found you and made the decision for you, he simply couldn’t see you as the dirt-under-the-fingernails, willingly-crawling-into-a-dingy-hole-towards-almost-certain-peril kind of gal. The sarcasm and your unabashed weirdness though? That would stay. No matter what life you wound up in, most assuredly, those two staples of you would remain. He wouldn’t have you any other way though, he loved your odd sense of humor, and eccentricities.

Crouching at the window you tilted your head at a near painful angle trying to get a better view of what you were getting yourself in to. Without asking Sam handed you a flashlight, tucking it into your hand unannounced bringing your eyes to scan him over quizzically.

“Where were you hiding that?” You certainly hadn’t seen it earlier.

“Backpack?”

“Boy scout.” You teased, because of course he would have packed for everything, he probably had a compass tucked away in there somewhere too. Sam rolled his eyes, a dimple creasing his cheek as he turned his attention back to the window.

No obvious dead bodies, so that was a plus. After shining the light around you set your mind in stone and handed it back to him so you could shimmy in through the narrow pane. There was a pretty steep drop from the window to the floor in the basement so you laid on your back, squeezing your head and shoulders through first, giving yourself a chance to grab a long wooden beam above you to hold onto for leverage, and so you didn’t drop like a rock to the floor. With a final huff you pulled the rest of your body through the open window, acutely aware of the sharp pieces of jagged glass that jabbed you with every movement. Don’t think about the spider web you just stuck your hand in. Or the other creepy crawlies lurking in the shadows just waiting to scurry over your fingers or up the leg of your jeans. And do not think about the inevitable squishing sound the floor is going to make when you step into a pile of human organs. Once in your dropped your hold and landed on your feet, kicking up a thousand years worth of dust as you did. With a hacking cough and a wave of your hand you brushed the dirt out of your face to little avail.

“Anything interesting?” Sam asked from the window, shining the flashlight directly in your eyes. Scrunching up your face you tried to block it with your hand.

“I don’t know Sam. I’m blind now, so it’s a little hard to tell.”

“Right.” He realized and reached an arm through the window handing off the light to you. Shining it around you were pleasantly surprised to find it more or less empty. Old dusty shelves lined the walls full of boxes, and tools. No mason jars full of eyeballs. Yet. Lighting up the doors to the cellar from your side you were relieved that it was just barricaded by a simple wooden beam.

Setting the light on a shelf, aiming it at the doors you went and freed the plank of wood from its slot. Sam pulled the doors open from the other side, and closed them silently behind him, taking a moment to replace the wooden board, ever careful to cover his tracks.

“Mind the dust.” You said, grabbing the flashlight from its perch. “Hey, Sam.” The second you gained his attention you flashed the beam of light in his face. “See anything?”

“Ha, ha. I get it.” He snarked snatching the torch from you hand as you stifled a giggle.

Following his lead you continued to search the basement, turning up bupkis. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a bunch of old shit that no one had probably used since the Inn was built. Save for the nice little stash of Moonshine tucked under one of the shelves.

“Yeehaw.” You said popping open the lid to the mason jar and taking a whiff, quickly turning into a sputtered cough as your eyes and throat immediately started to burn. “Good god, you could strip paint with this.”

“Yeah? Go ahead and try it, tell me what gasoline tastes like.” Sam replied with a chuckle.

“I’m not gonna drink it. You drink it.”

“No way.”

“I’ll give you five bucks if you drink it.” You insisted, there was that perfect bitch-face again.

“You’d don’t have five bucks.”

“Wow, rude. You don’t have to rub it in.” You said with a pout, screwing the lid back on the jar and tucking it back into it’s spot. Once the basement was clear you headed upstairs which was unsettling. Nothing but ratty old furnishings, more than apparent that a family had in fact lived there, but just up and left one day. Antique dolls on an old rickety shelf, children’s toys on the floor, deer heads mounted on the walls. There were still untouched plates sitting on the side table, and a book left open for place keeping. Easily the most alarming thing was the back corner which had a mess of iron chains and cuffs, and a few giant meat hooks hanging.

“Still wanna turn this place into a summer home?” He asked, the light glinting off the iron chains.

“Just remember my safeword.” You quipped, biting back a gag from the rancid smell coming from what you could only assume was at one point a kitchen. A large black mass situated in the center of the floor where the odor was coming from caught your attention, forming a pit in your stomach, and you grabbed Sam by the wrist directing the light to where you needed it.

A voice from outside distracted you from making out the shape in the floor, someone was outside. Sam cut out the light, which helped neither of you to figure out where to go from there. Hand on the grip of your gun at your thigh you waited for the inevitable stand-off as the chain on the outside of the front door rattled, lock falling away. Sam’s large hands covered your mouth and snaked around your waist as he pulled you backwards and into the crawl-space beneath the staircase. With a free hand you hooked your fingers around the frame of the slatted closet door and pulled it closed silently.

The storage area he pulled you into had to be the world’s tiniest storage space, if it were just you in there it might have been fine. But with Sam’s huge form crowding what little space was available it was awkward to say the least. The sharp incline of the stairs had his broad shoulders pressed against the flat of the ceiling, and the rest of him hunched over you practically bending you in half backwards. One hand pressed against the wall above your head, and legs at a crooked and unstable angle below you you were banking on him to keep you upright. With his arm tucked firmly at your back and his other arm outstretched to keep himself steady, hand flat against the wall behind your head it was all he could do to fit into the space with you. You were flexible enough, generally speaking, but you were not a contortionist and the Cirque du Soleil act he just crammed you into was… less than comfortable.

The front door opened and you could no longer lament about your tight quarters.

“No, I heard you.” Came a man’s voice, you tugged a finger on the slats of the door trying your damndest to sneak a peek through them, which was near impossible with Sam’s forearm against your jaw. Not that you minded so much, he was warm, and he smelled so nice it was distracting, like coffee, and vanilla, and cinnamon. He held you flush against him in a hard line down the length of his chest and abdomen, tucked between his solid thighs. Made you all tingly in the nether region, but there was no time for you to focus on his firm he was. Or the feel of his breath hot against your neck forming goosebumps on your skin. Or how the long strands of his hair tickled your cheek, and how you’d always wanted to know how soft it would feel knotted in your fingers. Or how hard your heart was pounding in your chest a little too excited to be so close to him.

“I said I heard you. It’ll be taken care of.” The Man said again, irritated. It was so dark in the cabin you couldn’t make out a thing, and you were trusting your instincts to tell you relatively where he was based on where his voice was coming from. “You just worry about your damn self, and let me do my fucking job. Or you can deal with it, but something tells me you don’t like getting your hands dirty...Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Then there was silence, followed by a series of footsteps, heavy boots, going from the spot in the center of the room towards the kitchen. The sounds of rustling plastic, and a slow choppy drag of something weighty across the floor.

Your arm above your head was starting to cramp, and the way he had you bent backwards was already painful. Bracing yourself against the wall you twisted your body until your back was flush against his chest, careful to remain as silent as you could. Sam shifted to try to give you some room but, the poor man had nowhere to go. Under different circumstances he would not have minded your ass pressing against him in all the right places. But this was neither the time nor the place to get caught up in the scent of your shampoo, or the soft curves of your body moving against the hard lines of his. You shifted again, just trying to get a better view of what little there was to be seen through the slats in the door, but the friction of your movements was impossible to ignore. One large hand splayed out flat, low on your stomach between your hip bones keeping you still enough for him to keep his mind focused on anything other than the growing tension pooling in his core.

The feel of his hand sitting dangerously low over your jeans made heat bloom in your cheeks and elsewhere and at the moment you were grateful for the pitch black. The front door creaked open and the rustling plastic stopped long enough for it to shut again and be replaced by the sound of jingling chains and a padlock being reattached. Waiting until you were in the clear enough to make an exit from the tiny crawl-space was seemed to take forever, but at the same time it wasn’t like you were in much of a huge rush to move. After all you were a little more than content to stay exactly where you were. Sam let out a sigh, his forehead dropping to rest against the back of your neck, his warm breath sending a tingle down your spine.

“See anything?” His tone low and smooth, as if he was unbothered by the cramped quarters.

“Nothing.” There was no hiding your disappointment. The conversation you’d overheard was certainly of interest however. Pushing the door open you slipped out of the crawl-space. The drag of his long fingers over the bare skin peeking between the rise of your jeans and hem of your t-shirt sending sparks of electricity directly to your center. Sam stepped out behind you, having to adjust himself in his jeans, he could think more about the feel of holding you that close later, and he would be.

The flashlight clicked on and both of you moved directly to the kitchen which yielded- nothing.

Swatting your hands against your thighs in frustration you let out an irritated groan. The sink was backed up with blackwater, and the floor was mushy from water damage sourced from a hole in the ceiling. But there were no body parts. The lack thereof was starting to bother you, which was not a feeling you’d thought to anticipate. No one wanted to find human remains, but more than anything you just wanted to find some fucking human remains! Gank the bad guy, stop the killings, go home, take a hot bath and boom. You would be on your way to Netflix and sleep. But no! Of course it wasn’t that simple.

Upstairs was equally unfruitful. Although an unmade and dingy bed, along with some foul smelling clothes was more proof than needed that someone was living there still. Your money was on the guy you’d just heard downstairs.

The only problem left was how to get back out of the house without letting it be known they had been there. Someone would have to put the wooden board back in the cellar door-you. But you also weren’t quite tall enough to climb back through the window in the basement. There was, however, a wide open window in the bedroom, and Sam beat you to it.

“Ever thought about jumping out a window?”

“You read my mind.” You answered unenthusiastically. He pressed his forearm against the frame gauging just how far down the drop would be, deciding it was plenty safe. But you did not agree. “You’re kidding right?”

“It’s not that far.” He justified, but you were not having it. A twenty foot drop might not have seemed like much for him, but that extra foot he had on you made a hell of a difference. Not to mention the fact that he was a large wall of solid muscle, while you were small, soft and had squishy insides.

“Okay, sure- for you maybe, Gigantor. I jump down there I’m looking at a broken leg, or worse.”

“You’re not going to break your leg.” Sam reassured you, but the flat and unamused expression on your face was not something he’d be able to cut through that easily. A large hand slid along your jawline, warm and comforting. “I’ll catch you.”

You could have melted into a puddle on the spot. It really wouldn’t have taken anything more than a slight breeze to make your knees crumple beneath you. The genuine sweetness in his eyes made you forget how to breathe. Trying to get a handle on yourself, unless you drowned in those kaleidoscope eyes you scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“I promise.” He said, gaze intense and confident. Beyond shadow of a doubt you trusted him, you were sure you were also going to regret it, but you were about to find out.

“Okay.” You agreed, a little baffled that you were just going to jump out a window and trust him to break your fall. He turned to go out first, but you grabbed his arm, bringing his attention back to you, all nerves again. “Sam. You drop me and I swear once I’m out of the hospital you’re in for a world of hurt.”

Sam flashed you a dimpled smile and dropped out the window, landing on his feet, making it look easy. Of course, he always made it look easy. He was graceful and agile, like a cat. You on the other hand- not so much. You sucked in a breath and leaned out the window waiting for him to ready himself. It wasn’t the first window you’d jumped out of, not by a long shot. But any other time you were escaping with zero hesitation about what was on the other side, no time to think about it. Quick thinking jump, or die, so there was little room to question the best alternative. But you kind of just wanted to try to boost yourself through the window in the basement right about then.

“This is so stupid.” You hushed, rocking on your heels. He turned up to you, arms outstretched. Sucking in a breath you hoped you aimed right, and stepped out the window, slamming your eyes shut and bracing yourself for impact.

Impact came but it wasn’t you busting your ass on solid ground. Sam made good on his word and caught you, but you had a little thing called momentum and just kept going, practically tackling him to the floor below. He hit the dirt on his back, his arms wrapped firm around you. Eyes wide you sat up immediately, waiting for the inevitable ‘Oh god, I think you broke my rib!’ to come but he just laid out for a moment, and brought two thumbs up, head tipped back to catch the breath you surely knocked out of him.

“Hey, this was your idea.” You defended. He nodded with an exasperated grin, hands falling to rest high on your thighs where you straddled his waist. It didn’t take but a split second for you to relish the position you’d found yourself in, and took only another split second more for the wave of embarrassment to flood, as you scrambled to your feet. Not that you wouldn’t have minded staying perched on his hips a little longer, or much longer. But it was Sam, and you already shouldn’t have been thinking about him like that, and you were also a professional with a job to do, which meant you didn’t have time to wrap your brain in fantasies. No matter how mouth-wateringly tantalizing they were.

He took your outstretched hand to help him to his feet, and dusted off the foliage he picked up. When you turned away to look at your surroundings he took a moment to adjust himself once again. That was twice now he’d had you exactly where he’d wanted you, at exactly the wrong times.

Heavy fog began to roll in through the trees, and with it that sickening cold chill rolled up your spine, and you found yourself edging just a little closer to him.

“It’ll be dark soon. We should get back to the Inn.” You suggested, but it was more of a warning. The woods were telling you to get out, and you weren’t one to ignore the signs anymore.

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feelingsdusk-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Fides

Chapter 3

Stiles hasn’t slept a wink. His head is pounding a little bit and his eyes are tight and stinging. He’s been thinking about what to do and he still feels conflicted even after so many hours mulling over it. He turns in bed to glare at the glowing numbers of the clock in his nightstand. The alarm will go off in less than an hour and he resists the need to growl in frustration.

He just doesn’t understand. He’s a good kid. His room is clean and tidy, hell, the whole house is. He does the laundry, buys the groceries and cooks. He has either the best or one of the best grades of his whole year. What twelve-year-old does all that? What's more, what twelve-year-old with ADHD does that? And ok, he sometimes hacks to dig dirt and take revenge when people mess with him, but that’s just self-defense, because he’s never gone after anyone that hadn’t gone after him first. More importantly to the case at hand, he’s never been caught, not even when he acted all crazy when he was eight and his schoolmates behaved like it was the hunting season of the one-of-a-kind specimen named Stiles. Whatever he does, he always makes sure that there’s no way it could be traced back to him, that he has such an airtight alibi that it would be absurd to think it was him. Which means that his dad doesn’t know about that and he’s never been called to the school before yesterday. So why? Why is he so ready to not trust Stiles? If he hasn’t given him any real reason to distrust him, is it because he’s a cop and that general attitude is always seeping through the cracks until it taints his personal life too? He doesn’t understand and it’s exhausting, because letting all those assholes at school walk over him until nothing remains is not an option and he doesn’t know what else he can do to make things better with his dad.

(And, honestly, he’s starting, slowly, very slowly, to not give a damn.)

(Even though he doesn’t want to even contemplate that terrifying possibility because his dad is the only one he has left.)

One part of Stiles (the part that is brimming with resentment and anger about how things have been since his mom died) wants to just defy his dad with a cynical oops, sorry, I forgot to set the alarm. That part of him also wants to just send everything to hell and start giving his dad a real reason to distrust him, forcing the man to feel deeply the absence of everything that he has been overlooking or maybe taking for granted every single day ever since Stiles started taking care of almost everything around the house.

The other part of him (a colder, calmer and more practical one) knows how to pick his battles and also that this isn’t one that he can win. That part of him also realizes that if the general situation he lives in (with only those little sporadic fights against his dad) exhausts him, being in constant battle would be unbearable. Especially since he’s not on equal footing and his dad holds all the power. It would be like one man going against an imperium, and even though in movies that works, he’s more than mature enough to know who would win in his case.

Still, it rankles that there’s no way he can turn the whole situation in his favor unless he gets the twins to confess. Even if he aces the exam today, his dad is so convinced that he cheated that he’ll think that he busted his ass off studying and then left the textbook back on the kitchen table just for show. Or if he doesn’t think that, he’ll see his face this morning and think that he spent the whole night awake studying. He regrets so much not getting up to throw the textbook out of his room… except that wouldn’t have gone well either because it would have been like a declaration of war.

One thing is for sure, even if he can’t get the twins to confess, he’s going to make them regret it with every fiber of their beings.

Hah! Who is he kidding? He’s so pissed off that he’s going to do that either way.

Stiles sighs and reaches to turn off the alarm before it can even sound. He rubs his face frustrated and then heaves himself up with a grunt. As he does so, small dimly glowing dots start coming from inside the terrarium. A tiny part of him wonders about the magic they’ve used on the terrarium that makes it so that the glow they emit can’t be seen when they’re inside, but he dismisses the thought, too tired to care about that right now.

Odette barrels into his face and it takes him a moment to process that she’s hugging him. Ehaldun hovers behind her shyly, prompting a fond smile out of Stiles. He raises his hand and the kid first pries his sister from Stiles’ cheek and gives him a quick hug before making her sit with him on his palm.

“How are you?” he murmurs softly as he crosses his legs to sit more comfortably. “Did she hurt you?”

“Thankfully it was nothing but a scare, Stiles,” Eglantine interrupts before they can answer, gliding closer until she stands on his palm too. She keeps reaching to touch her children, as if to reassure herself. “We arrived before she could do more. But you need to be careful, she’s really dangerous.”

“I gathered that,” he nods frowning. Just what he needs today, more problems. Awesome.

“She’s a huntress,” Lorelle interjects as she comes near with Aelfdene in tow. Both elders look grim and wary. They keep exchanging covert looks that put Stiles instantly on edge.

“A huntress… of supernaturals, you mean,” he guesses instantly and the elders nod. And that’s bad news because if Stiles is really a spark, that means that he’s a supernatural too, and therefore that places him within their sights. “Is it some kind of sport for them? Or a crusade?”

“For some it’s both. We’re abominations to them,” the elder sighs, world-weary and just her tired expression makes her look way older than she already is.

“An abomination, wonderful,” Stiles sighs, sarcasm thick, and rubs his eyes tiredly with his free hand. Then it dawns on him. “Just some?“

“Most old families have a code of conduct they’re supposed to follow that forbids them to attack innocents.” Aelfdene snorts at Lorelle’s words and he’s echoed by many.

“Supposed?”

“What do you think happened to our home?” Beriadan snaps but Stiles doesn’t take it to heart, knowing it’s not directed at him. She isn’t even looking at him, her gaze lost as if she’s seeing things that aren’t there.

“Was it her?” he asks calmly instead.

“We don’t know,” Lorelle sighs again. Aelfdene's face is pinched, he obviously still doesn't want to rely on Stiles this much but knows that there's no other way. For the better or the worse, at this moment they depend on him to survive.

“It happened too fast,” a man to her left adds, pained, echoed by others that speak too softly for Stiles to understand.

“We were… and suddenly there was fire everywhere,” a girl chokes out as she embraces another girl. “When we tried to fly out…”

“Whoever they were, they sprayed something on us and it was like poison,” the other girl finishes.

“The ones of us that managed to fly further and hide survived,” Lorelle takes over. “We managed to regroup after we regained consciousness, even though we were incredibly sick. It took days before some of us felt good enough to sneak in to search for any other survivors. There was nothing left.”

“Could the hunters have taken anyone with them?” Stiles asks immediately and both Lorelle and Aelfdene shake his head. “Are you sure? You said you were unconscious for a while…”

“We have our ways, Stiles. None of them survived,” Aelfdene’s response is needlessly harsh, sharp and unequivocal. In the face of that, Stiles holds his tongue and nods.

“I’m sure that she didn’t see me but I’ll be careful,” he concedes simply as he lowers his hand onto his nightstand to let it’s occupants get off.

“But are you completely sure?” Eglantine prods gently.

Stiles gets it. He saved the kids and they’re grateful, so they don’t want anything bad to happen to him. But also, if that woman even remotely suspects that Stiles is involved, what stops her from simply breaking into the house when he’s at school to check it out? His address is on his record, and she probably has access to that. Moreover, the terrarium is not exactly inconspicuous. A normal person would see the ewok village and wouldn’t even think to associate it to fairies, but she is a huntress, not a normal person. And in the remote possibility that she didn’t immediately associate the terrarium as a fairy village, Stiles still has the box he stole from her in his closet.

There are four things that could get him caught: the traffic cameras, his fingerprints, the printer and the glittery box.

If that huntress has access to the traffic cameras or can get her hands on the feed from the shops that have cameras too, she won’t find anything. Stiles knows the blind spots of the town like the back of his hand and unless someone installed a new camera on the last twenty hours that he doesn’t know of, he’s safe. He’ll check it out just in case.

As for the fingerprints he may have left while sneaking around school, his hands were covered by his sleeves both when he snuck in and out and when he opened or closed the doors as he searched around. If he slipped up without noticing, there will be so many other fingerprints that his will be lost. Maybe this precaution seems too much, but in Stiles’ opinion it never hurts to be careful and in the slim chance that she checked for fingerprints, it would have been a problem if his fingerprints appeared on every door of the school. Even with his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline at that last moment, he had the presence of mind to cover his hands with his sleeves as he climbed out the window. The only time he forgot himself was when he checked the box, which is why he didn’t leave it behind.

And now the only doubt left is if he left some kind of trace when he hacked into the printer or not, because he didn’t use his backup phone for that. Yesterday he used a very simple code to hack into the printer, basically giving it orders to print indefinitely the last archive in its memory. He revises the code mentally and yes, no one will be able to link him to it. If they check who sent the order to print, it will show the owner of the last printed archive. And even if that hunter suspects foul play, because Stiles can see that the printer turning on just before the captive fairies disappeared is too much of a coincidence, no one knows that he has that kind of skill or even suspects. He started learning after he lost all his friends and he has never flaunted it. And when he uses it to get revenge it’s because he can’t do it any other way, which means that enough time has passed and people on the receiving end of it, whom also expect a more hands-on approach from him, don’t link it to back to Stiles.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Once I get rid of the box, we’re clear. But it never hurts to be careful, so you should strengthen your wards and maybe… place something on the doors and windows that alerts you if anyone other than me or my dad comes in? That way you can hide? Is that a thing?”

Lorelle and Aelfdene exchange a short glance, seemingly debating silently about something, before the first talks. Again Aelfdene's expression sours, clearly against sharing more information that could be used against them but letting Lorelle have her way. “We can place some magic to alert us if anyone enters the house but… we can’t be as selective as that. Besides, if she is the one that attacked us, she already knows how to circumvent it and it would only serve to confirm our presence to her if she came to investigate on a hunch.”

Stiles hums as he gathers a change of clothes. “And what about placing a sentry? You have those communication runes, right? Place people on guard to alert you of intruders and that will give you enough time to hide in case of an emergency. At least until we can think of a better solution.”

“We can do that,” Eglantine nods, echoed by Beriadan and some other guards, and then sighs. “It’s such a shame, though.”

“Eglantine!” Aelfwine admonishes.

“What! I’m only saying…”

“What? What is a shame?” Stiles asks, frowning.

“I swear, Eglantine! You have no shame! We can’t have him more involved…”

“This has nothing to do with shame! And he’s already involved, there’s no turning back!”

“She’s right, Aelfwine,” Beriadan interjects.

“He’s done more than enough and we’ve already put him in danger by moving into his home!”

“We know that, but leaving him defenseless would be doing him a disservice,” Beriadan answers calmly.

“Exactly! It is more than enough reason for him-”

“You only want-”

“Don’t insult me! All of us would benefit from-”

“Eglantine, Beriadan, Aelfwine, that’s enough,” Aelfdene cuts in sharply, Lorelle sighing exasperated beside him.

“Explanation, please?” Stiles demands crossing his arms and frowning.

“Spark magic is stronger in those kinds of wards,” Beriadan answers plainly, ignoring Aelfwine’s protests, “but you’re not trained and we don’t have that kind of knowledge.”

Stiles sits on the bed mulling over that. He gets why Aelfwine is protesting but he likes Eglantine and Beriadan’s direct approach more. So, the way he sees it, the situation is like the following. He doesn’t owe them anything but he’s letting them stay and he still risked himself to go looking for the kids, possibly placing himself on the radar of the hunters by doing so. This has made the fairies in general (especially Eglantine and her kids) warm up to him. Still, some of them fear that since they can’t offer him anything in exchange, he’ll change his mind and kick them out, which, admittedly, would be the sensible thing to do. Eglantine owes her kids’ life to him and she’s deeply grateful, which is why she wants him to be as prepared as he can just in case. Beriadan is more practical about the whole issue: if Stiles knows more magic, he can protect himself and the fairies (which she assumes he would do, because he has already showed the inclination to do so) better. Aelfwine, on the other hand, thinks that they should cut his involvement to keep Stiles safe. And Aelfdene is trying to shut them up because he fears that he’ll make them leave if they confirm that they can only give him information about the supernatural world and no real training.

While he appreciates Aelfwine’s concern, out of the four he likes Eglantine and Beriadan’s approach the best. Lorelle and Aelfdene, while he understands, he's not very happy with.

“Okay,” he starts after a moment, “let’s be clear: I hate when people lie to me. It pisses me off like you wouldn’t believe. So don’t lie to me or try to manipulate me, period. Apart from the moral part of it, which I don’t care about,” he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, “want to know why in this case? Because I could have been trying to guess how my powers work ever since you told me what I was, instead of waiting for you to teach me the way more safely. And now that we need it, I don’t have even the foggiest clue on how to use them. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that you were looking for your people in extreme circumstances and you didn’t know me, but I think that by now I’ve proven that I’m at least a little bit trustworthy, haven’t I? When you chose to come here you said that my magic marked it as a safe place, right? So something in it must have told you that I wouldn’t harm you? In any case, trusting me or not, you have to decide if you’re going to work with me or not, because I’m not going to harm you, but I’m not going to get harmed because of you either, just because you knowingly kept things that I needed to know from me. Think about it.”

Stiles doesn’t push it anymore. If the situation was reversed, he knows it would take more time for him to trust them, but he’d be willing to give the benefit of doubt after what happened yesterday. He leaves them to chew on the bone he’s left them and starts getting prepared to leave for school. It’s very early still, but it’s not like he has anything else to do.

First he makes sure to hang all the clothes he used yesterday and then he looks at the box, thinking about how to destroy it. It’s cardboard, so he decides to wet it until he can just make a ball (making sure the glitter stays in the center of it) to throw to the trash. He sneaks into the kitchen silently to grab the cleaning bucket and then he leaves the box soaking hidden inside his closet while he takes a quick shower.

When he finishes, most of the fairies have gone back to the terrarium. Only the elders remain, and neither of them talk as he makes a ball with the soaked box and puts it inside a plastic bag to throw out hidden among other trash. He also throws the water from the bucket to the toilet and makes sure that there’s isn’t any glitter left on either of them.

“We can teach you the runes. The basics are the same for everyone, it’s the way of using or activating them that varies,” Lorelle says finally. Aelfdene remains stony at her side but he looks resigned about the whole thing, even though he obviously still doesn't like the situation one bit. “Of course there’s more to spark magic than just runes, but apart from stories about it that may or may not be truthful, sadly we have nothing more to give you. We can share general knowledge about the supernatural world too, but, again, it may be incomplete or off the mark without our knowledge.”

“Ok, I can work with that,” Stiles replies simply as he goes to pick up his bag. He waves goodbye to a wildly gesturing Odette, whom is peeking over the top of the crystal wall of the terrarium, copied more sedately by Ehaldun. When he receives some verbal goodbyes from the rest of the fairies, he answers to those too. “If you’re going to place those sentries, remember to wait until my dad leaves… or hide very well.”

“We will.”

He looks at the textbook still lying where it fell beside the bed and then sighs tiredly as he bends to pick it up. It’s going to be a long day.

(But at least he’s finally getting somewhere with the fairies.)

—

By the time he makes it to school, the cold and crispy morning air has taken care of the last vestiges of drowsiness that had remained stubbornly even after his cold shower. He has taken his Adderall, but it’s not magical, so he’s welcomed the cold weather on his way there.

It’s too early and still dark, so he locks his bike and prepares to eat the pop tarts that he prepared before leaving, not wanting to see his dad today. They’re cold by now, but he doesn’t really care. There are some cars in the parking lot, including the ones he assumes to be the huntress’ and the security guard’s. He debates for a moment as he munches a tart and then he decides to try the entrance door to see if it’s open, because the cold was nice when he was moving, but right now it’s a bit too much. He doesn’t think he’ll have a problem because he does have a legitimate reason to be here this early… Well, not so early, but he has enough indignation and anger about the whole situation to draw an excuse from, so he decides to risk it. With any luck, this will help cement the idea in the huntress’ mind that he has nothing to do with her disappeared hostages.

Stiles pushes on the door and it opens easily. He finishes the first pop tart as he crosses the hallway leisurely and when he takes the stairs he’s halfway through his second. As he climbs them, he wonders if Eglantine’s runes are still there. This morning he didn’t think of it, but should he try to erase them? They left three marks before they had to beat a hasty retreat. He’ll have to ask Eglantine later because if the hunters found a way to evade their wards, maybe they can see their runes too? In any case, he’s not going to do anything right now, because, one, he can’t see them himself and he only remembers vaguely where she put them on the door and the stairs, and two, he can’t risk getting caught doing it. If that huntress knows they’re there, she’ll be keeping an eye on them and Stiles is not going to fall into that trap. Besides, unless the huntress knows how to track the residual magic that Eglantine may have left on them, it’s not like they’re very incriminating. They actually help Stiles because she may think that only other fairies were involved in the rescue.

Just as he’s turning to leave the stairs a hand falls harshly on his shoulder, making him choke with a mouthful. “Well, well, what do we have here?” a woman’s voice says. “Did you forget something, mmm?“

And of course the very first thing that happens to him is that he crosses paths with the huntress. Still, he has more pressing things to care about right now, like not dying because he choked on a pop tart. Well, at least this answers the question, doesn’t it? She can somehow see the runes because, if he recalls well, there’s one on the door behind her and another one on the wall just beside him. Too much of a coincidence that she’s waiting right there. Stiles reminds himself that he hasn’t done anything that indicates that he was looking for the runes to erase them. In other words, she’s fishing and taking advantage of having surprised him to see if he spills anything.

“Oh, my god, you nearly killed me,” he lets out in a strained voice when he finally stops coughing his lungs out. His heart is still rabbiting in his chest and he tries to control his breathing. He throws at her a wary look, like he would to any stranger that grabbed him out of the blue, and he tries to escape her hold. She not only doesn’t let go but tightens her grip.

“Ah, ah, ah,“ she tuts, and her smile is really unsettling. “No escaping for you. Name?”

“You’re hurting me, let go,” he grumbles as he glares at her heatedly. Then he purposely raises his voice a few notches. “Ok, this is officially the worst day ever. First my dad grounds me and now this? This is the worst! But, hey, why not? Punish me for something I didn’t do too and join the club!”

“What?” the woman says, clearly surprised.

“Ms. Sterling, is everything okay?” A male voice reaches them. Score, Stiles thinks when he recognizes the night guard. “Another one?”

“So it seems,” she answers and then she starts pulling him in the direction of the principal’s office. “I’m going to get this one to the principal too.”

“Need any help?”

“I can manage, don’t worry.”

“Maybe just in case…”

If she’s not happy with the night guard dogging their steps, Stiles can’t tell from her expression, but she does stop trying to puncture his skin with her fingers, even if she keeps her hand on his shoulder to steer him in the direction of the principal’s office, so Stiles is thankful for his presence. Stiles just keeps the facade of a disgruntled child the whole way there and ignores the conversation the two adults maintain.

She knocks on the door firmly but doesn’t wait for the principal to bid them in. She pushes Stiles into the room, just as the security guard leaves with a wave.

“I have another one for you, Emily,” she says.

“Stiles?” Mr. Andrews exclaims before the principal can get a word in.

Stiles takes stock of the room quickly. The twins are there, along with whom he thinks are their parents, Mr. Andrews and Mrs. Callahan, the principal. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but hell if he’s not going to take advantage of this.

“You know him then?”

“He’s one of my students,” he replies sighing.

“I caught him sneaking in-”

“I wasn’t sneaking in,” Stiles interrupts with an angry face. “You told me to be here to retake that exam and here I am. But for the record, I didn’t cheat and it’s really stupid to think that I would when I always have good grades. This is unfair and the only reason I’m here now is because my dad will ground me for forever if I’m not. And I can prove that I wasn’t the one cheating and it will be even more unfair if you don’t let me do it. And just so you know…“

“You can,” Mr. Andrews says sounding more interested than Stiles expected.

“I can?” Stiles blinks for a second. “I mean, yeah, I can.”

“Prove it, then. There’s not going to be a better time than this, now that we’re all here.” When the twins and their parents start to protest, he raises his hand, successfully silencing them. “If they didn’t cheat, they shouldn’t be worried. They did get a 98% after all. So Stiles, do go on.”

Okay, this is going way better than Stiles expected and it’s a little confusing, but he’s not going to let this opportunity pass, so he shakes it off quickly and barrels on. “Ask me anything and I’ll answer.”

“That just proves that you studied for today, Stiles.”

“I know, but I bet you anything you want that if you ask any of them,” he answers triumphantly, savoring how pale the twins are becoming by the minute, “they won’t have the answers.”

“And if they do?”

“I know they won’t, or not enough to get a 98% anyway.”

It turns out that Stiles is right and they don’t. With Mr. Andrews grilling them and the added pressure of their parents and the principal’s presence, the twins break halfway through. Everyone knows that Mr. Andrews always grades the exams two or three days after they take them, so they snuck into school to rewrite their exams because they had done pretty badly. When they were doing it, they had the idea of copying Stiles’ exam to make it seem like Stiles was the one that had cheated. And it worked, but then they caught wind of Mr. Andrews letting him retake the exam because they heard their parents talking about it. Not knowing what else to do, they decided to sneak in yesterday night again to try to steal the new exam from the teachers' room, because even though only Stiles had to retake the exam, they were worried that he’d do so well that it would make Mr. Andrews suspicious and he’d make them take it again too, and there was no way they could cram everything in just one afternoon to get a similar grade a second time. Stiles nearly cackles when he hears it, but it turns out they got caught because the printer suddenly turned on. Of course, Mr. Andrews grew suspicious after Ms. Sterling and the night guard caught them trying to steal the second exam, which is why he let Stiles try to prove his innocence.

Karma. The name is Karma. Very nice to meet you.

What’s even better is that the twins don’t even get to spread rumors about Stiles cheating because they’re getting suspended for the rest of the week for doing exactly that and trying to incriminate Stiles and an entire week in addition to that for sneaking into the school to steal the exams, which is going to be on their record permanently.

Mr. Andrews apologizes as he guides him out of the office and promises to call his dad, which at this point, to be honest, he doesn’t care much about, because this is nothing but a bittersweet victory and it doesn’t make everything okay again. An apology isn’t going to erase how deeply his dad’s refusal to even listen to him or to let him prove his innocence hurts. This is just the best outcome he can get out of this all around shitty situation because at least his father will now have proof that he didn’t cheat and Stiles won’t get punished for something he didn’t do.

“I’ll take him,” Sterling offers when Mr. Andrews talks about getting him at least a cocoa from the kitchens to make up for having to wait nearly an hour until class starts, and no. Just no.

“You should try to sleep for a bit, Kaitlyn, you were awake all night, after all…”

“Kate, please,“ she smiles and why is Stiles so creeped out by it? Mr. Andrews seems to like it quite fine.

“Kate. Charlie, then, please.”

It’s like that tale about the spider and the fly, and Mr. Andrews is falling so hard for the act that Stiles is nauseated. He wonders if it would be too obvious to just let himself fall to the ground and then crawl the hell out of here before she devours him too… But of course it would be and he has watched way too many cartoons.

“Charlie,” she lilts as she smiles coyly, taking the man’s hand to shake it. “And I don’t mind taking him because I could use one now too.“ And then she winks, of all things. “Besides, I don’t have class until fifth period and I can take a nap after I take him to the cafeteria.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

Farewell Charlie Andrews…

“I don’t.”

“Here, then,” he nods as he passes her the keys to open the kitchen’s door.

… may you rest in peace.

“Come on, Stiles,” she says as she passes her arm over his shoulders. Just for a second, Stiles feels like a little mouse cornered by a snake and he shudders. He’s pretty sure her smile acquires a shark edge to it in response and has to stomp on the urge to tell her what exactly his father does for a living and yes, he does carry a gun and knows how to use it, so get your damn paws off me lest you lose them. “Let’s get you something warm,” she adds as she rubs his arm comfortingly.

She doesn’t talk again until they’re sitting facing each other at the nearest table with a mug full of cocoa each. Stiles doesn’t let that get him nervous or lure him into a false sense of security, even though if outwardly he makes it look like the latter.

Maturity wise, Stiles is pretty advanced for his age. It’s not only because of what happened with his dad, but because the better he got at hacking, the older the crowd he moved with got, so he learned fast about topics that a kid his age should have no business knowing about to pass off as a much older person on the net, or he wouldn’t have been taken seriously due to his age. If it wasn’t for that, he’s sure one Kaitlyn Sterling would have him for breakfast very easily and then ask for seconds. Even so, as things are now, he’s not sure if he’s going to get out of this conversation unscathed, and he can’t afford to make any mistake in this.

“Rough night?“ she asks commiserating, and when Stiles just shrugs and keeps looking at his mug fixedly, she reaches to touch his hand. “You have panda eyes.”

He has to throw her a bone or she’s going to continue digging until she gets a reaction out of him. Either he controls where this conversation goes or she’s going to eat him alive. This is nothing like interacting with his peers or even stupid teenagers, where he has to be careful with what his face is giving up but not overly so, because it’s how he twists his words that gets him what he wants. Not even the people he talks to on the net, whom are much older and experienced, are this difficult to manage either, because he doesn’t have to worry about what face he’s making when someone surprises him or nearly gets the upper hand. Sterling is using a tactic Stiles has used before, where she gets information whether he talks or not. So right here, right now, he has to have an almost impossibly tight control of his facial expression and his body language on top of what comes out of his mouth, to avoid giving up anything.

“My dad didn’t believe me when I told him I hadn’t cheated,” he mumbles before she can push more.

“So you couldn’t sleep.” When he just nods in answer, she continues unfazed by his closed off attitude. “I understand, you know? After all you didn’t cheat and he didn’t believe you.“

“Yeah. I tried to prove to him that I hadn’t cheated but he wouldn’t listen.” His fingers clench around the mug unconsciously and she pats his hand.

“That must have been so frustrating…” she nods, removing her hand from where it was still resting on top of his.

“It was. I haven’t done anything to them and they keep coming after me.”

Her expression turns completely serious. She’s good, so good at this, and if he didn’t already know that she’s basically a murderer, he’d be fooled. “I hope you aren’t thinking about getting into trouble to get revenge, though, Stiles. I know it’s tempting after what they’ve done but-”

“Why would I?” he interjects. “I never thought about that,” she raises both eyebrows skeptically but keeping her amicable expression, and he flushes before he can control it. Damn it. “Ok, maybe I did, but that was only if I couldn’t convince Mr. Andrews about letting me prove that I hadn’t cheated or making them repeat the exam too.”

“Seriously?” she asks, keeping the same skeptic yet friendly face.

“They’ve gotten suspended and grounded, and on top of that they won’t be able to spread rumors about me,” he shrugs. “It can’t get any better than that and I don’t want my dad to tell me off again. Or even worse, ground me.”

“I used to argue a lot with my mom too. It pissed me off so much! Sometimes I was so angry that I would climb out the window and disappear for the whole night. I was such a brat,“ she laughs self-deprecatingly as she explains what she used to do on those nights.

“Oh my god, my dad would kill me if I did that.” He feigns an earnest expression to cover an alarmed one. She suspects him all right and he doesn’t know why. Judging by the line of questioning she’s taken, maybe she’s just shooting in the dark because of this whole exam robbery thing. Because if she has heard about him before, she knows he likes to get back at the people that cross him and sneaking into school to get the twins caught wouldn’t be too far off. He has the feeling, though, that she doesn’t think that he rescued the fairies or her questions wouldn’t be this obvious… or amicable for that matter. Maybe she thinks that he saw someone else and she’s trying to get it out of him? Still, she wants to talk? Okay, they’re going to talk, but about her. “What did your mom do?”

“Ground me, of course,” she laughs and Stiles snickers before he can think of it. “What else? But she couldn’t take away the fun I’d had already,” she adds with a wink, making him smile back unconsciously again.

One thing is for sure, if it wasn’t because she doesn’t think him guilty and she’s going in with kid gloves, she’d have caught him very easily, and Stiles needs to brush up those skills pronto if these conversations with her are going to be a thing. And unless this particular conversation serves to prove to her that he has nothing to do with the fairies’ Houdini act, he’s pretty sure they are until she gets what she wants from him.

“I’d never dare, you know? My dad is the sheriff and all his deputies have known me since I was a baby. I’d be brought back home by the ears not even five minutes after leaving home. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad had put in one of those pet microchips with the way he always knows where I am and what I’m doing.” She starts laughing and he scowls as he mumbles. “Not funny.”

“It kind of is, though.”

“No it’s not,” he pouts and she laughs harder.

“Well, kiddo, that just means that you have to be craftier about it, that’s all.”

“Are you seriously telling me to misbehave? What kind of teacher are you?”

“A fun one?” She joins Stiles when he snickers and then she yawns spectacularly. “And a dead one too. Sorry to cut this short, kiddo, but I’m going to hide in an AV room and sleep for a couple of hours at least. Do you mind if I leave you alone? I can…”

“That’s ok,” he cuts in. “I don’t mind, I’ll just read for a bit.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“See you around then.”

“Sleep well.”

Somehow he’s dodged the bullet. Unbelievable. Now he’s not going to move at all from his seat for the next twenty minutes at this obvious trap. And unless Eglantine tells him that those marks can be used to track her, he’s going to forget they even exist.

—

He gets through the day trying to not fall asleep every minute and succeeding mostly, even though he loses the count on how many times he has to splash his face with cold water to help himself. He doesn’t see Sterling again but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched, so he mentally cheers when the last bell sounds and he can go home.

“I’m home!” he calls as he enters, feeling a little weird, because he hasn’t said that in a long time. Still, it’s a way to let the fairies know it’s him and he takes note mentally to work out a code with them so, in case something is wrong and they have to hide, he can let them know beforehand and without being suspicious. “Hi, Beriadan,” he greets her as he takes a look around. Another fairy pops out from behind a picture on the shelf near the door to the backyard and waves at him, which he responds in kind.

“Hello, Stiles. Rough day?” she asks with a wave as she glides near. “Any problems?”

“More like long,” he answers sheepish, rubbing the back of his head with a sigh. “A really long, long day. And nope, no problems so far but we’ll see how that goes. It’s too early to tell. Everything fine here? Anything suspicious?”

“Not that we noticed. We placed the sentries after your father left like you suggested, but we haven’t dared to place proximity runes on the perimeter. At this point, seeing what happened, doing that might actually give our presence away rather than help us.” Stiles hums in answer, frowning, but before he can get a word in, Beriadan continues speaking, obviously opting for the direct route. “How did the exam go?”

He clears his throat feeling pretty uncomfortable about the fact that probably every fairy listened to the delightful conversation he had with his dad yesterday. “I didn’t have to take it in the end. They caught the ones responsible before that.”

She looks at him for a moment, gaze penetrating. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“I am. It saved me the hassle of having to find a way to make them confess,” he shrugs flippantly and her lips twitch reluctantly. “Is Eglantine upstairs? I need to ask her something.”

“Yeah,” she replies simply, letting the matter go. Stiles sighs inwardly in relief and advances towards the stairs. “At the library, I think. She was trying to compile everything for your lesson.” When she sees the smile that stretches on his face, she rolls her eyes. Then when that same smile vanishes, she frowns. “Is everything okay?”

As he expected, there’s an apology brownie waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He can see it from where he stands and he has to stomp on the desire to throw it through the window. He manages to contain himself by very little. “Yeah. Everything’s cool.”

“Sure?”

“Yep,” he says, mustering a smile. “Talk to you later, Beriadan, I need to talk to Eglantine,” he adds as he climbs the stairs, ignoring the brownie altogether.

Stiles nods to the two guards outside the terrarium (Alvara and Fafnir, if he recalls well) as he enters his bedroom, letting his bag fall beside his desk chair. Just as he’s bending to untie his sneakers, Odette comes barreling out from the terrarium and into his face like this morning. Stiles can see already that this is going to become a thing and he can’t decide if he likes it or not. Ehaldun comes right behind her with a shy wave and then grabs his sister’s shirt to pull her away from him, obviously noticing his discomfort. Stiles sighs inwardly, battle already lost, before reaching to pull the kid near, so he can follow his sister’s steps too. The little boy’s flush shouldn’t be this cute, and Stiles has just found out that maybe he’s a sucker for little kids. He lets Odette babble about anything and everything as he opens his laptop and turns it on, only intervening to pull Ehaldun into the conversation when he notices he wants to say something but he’s too shy to interrupt.

“Is your mom available?” Stiles asks after he finishes the quick check of the security cameras but finds nothing new. Unless someone put a personal camera with no intranet or connection to the Internet, he’s safe. “I need to ask her something.”

“I’ll get mom!” Odette exclaims happily before she rushes into the terrarium.

Stiles catches a strange expression on Ehaldun’s face as she leaves before the kid can cover it. Ever since he met the two siblings, the boy hasn’t let his little sister out of his sight. In fact, this has been the first time he hasn’t trailed after her after she’s moved farther than an arm’s length of distance from him and also the first time he’s seen him alone. It doesn’t take a genius to know the cause of this behavior, after all that’s happened to them. First the attack on their colony and then the whole failed school trip debacle. It’s no wonder that he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight. Odette doesn’t seem so affected by what happened to the colony (as opposed to her encounter with the huntress, which left her shaken), so Stiles guesses that either she wasn’t present or she was too young to fully understand what was happening.

In any case, Ehaldun wasn’t so lucky.

“Wanna play a game?” Stiles asks because the kid looks deeply uncomfortable with the silence and it’s almost painful to watch.

“A game?” Ehaldun repeats softly, his voice almost inaudible. He looks interested, though, so Stiles counts that as a win.

“Here, this is fun,” he replies as he opens the Minesweeper and starts playing a round to show him how it works. “It’s a puzzle game. You see that board?” Ehaldun nods, flying to hover Stiles’ shoulder to watch what he does. “You have to clear it. Under each square there are either mines or a number. If there’s a number, like here,” he points to a two he’s just uncovered. “This means that there are two mines around that square. You have to avoid those mines. If you hit them, it’s game over.” Stiles continues playing and the kid finally relaxes enough to sit on Stiles’ shoulder and starts piping suggestions on where to click. It’s almost too adorable the way Ehaldun jumps, startled when they make a mistake and the mines go off. “Wanna try?” Stiles offers, trying not to snicker at his pout and determined look.

“Yes, please,” he replies, nodding eagerly.

“Can you move the mouse? If it’s too difficult I can set it up with the keyboard. Try first and we’ll see.”

“Okay.”

Stiles mentally pats his shoulder, satisfied. Admittedly, he doesn’t know the kid much, even though Odette has dragged him almost daily to watch Stiles do his homework or other things, but this is the most excited he’s seen Ehaldun since he’s known him. He normally sits back and just observes with a closed off expression, only answering to his sister when she badgers him.

“Keyboard, it is,” Stiles says when it’s obvious that with the mouse it’s too awkward. “Gimme a moment.”

“Sorry,” Ehaldun mumbles, face red in shame.

“What for?”

“I-I…”

“You don’t,” he replies simply to what he knows the kid is going to say. “Here you go. Use the cross here to command the selection up, down, right or left. To select the square you press the enter.”

“What’s that?” Odette cries happily, Eglantine coming more sedately behind here. “I wanna play too. Can I? Please? Please?”

When Ehaldun looks like he’s about to let his sister go at it in his place, Stiles intervenes. “Here, Odette,” he stops the boy as he speaks, making him a gesture to keep on playing. He opens a duplicate window with the same game and explains to her the rules quickly before letting her play with another part of the keyboard. Stiles tunes them out as he turns his attention to Eglantine. There’s a strange expression on her face but he dismisses it to get to the matter at hand. “Remember where you left those two runes at the door of the hall that connects the two buildings and the stairs?” She nods. “When I got to school this morning, that huntress was waiting right at that exact place.” She startles and he rushes to explain what happened, distractedly reaching to help Odette when she seems to get too frustrated. “It could be a coincidence, sure, because, strategically, that’s a place where I would hide to catch someone. You can control a bigger area there. But I think that it confirms that Sterling either can see those runes somehow or rune magic leaves some kind of sign and she knows what to look for. Now my question is: if she can see them, can she trace the user or can she just see them if they are on her way?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Well, obviously…”

“No, Stiles. I mean it, it’s impossible,” she interrupts vehemently. “There are two ways of doing runic magic: either you use some kind of ink to write the rune or your own innate magic. If I had used ink, sure, a smidgen of the caster’s energy always remains on it, because it mixes with that ink or whatever you used to write it no matter how much you try to avoid it and makes it impossible for the array to consume it. But I didn’t do that, I used the second method. It takes more energy to do it, but the moment you stop feeding the runes magic, they disappear.”

“Does that happen immediately?” he asks after a moment of consideration.

Eglantine frowns, crossing her arms contemplatively. She smiles warmly when Odette lets out a startled scream when the mines go off, followed by a happy giggle as she starts another round. Ehaldun smiles triumphantly when he clears the board and Stiles smiles back, making the kid flush. A couple of older kids come out, obviously drawn out by the noise they’re making. They settle for taking turns without Stiles’ intervention so he turns his attention back to Eglantine.

“I don’t know the exact time, but I think it takes a bit for the runes to consume the remaining energy once you stop feeding them. A couple of minutes or more depending on the array? In any case, whether it is traced with ink or magic, the array converts the magic, acting as a filter, essentially changing it’s nature and leaving it unrecognizable. We’ve tried tracking it before and it’s impossible.”

“And are you completely sure about that?” She nods and he hums in response. “Can we do an experiment? To see how long it takes for a communication rune to fade, I mean. Maybe Sterling saw them before they faded?”

Eglantine places the array on the table. After approximately the same amount of time that she kept them up at the school, she stops feeding them. It takes about twenty minutes to fade. They make more tests with various different arrays and it turns out that depending on the one used, it needs more or less energy to function.

Conclusion? It’s possible that the huntress found them before they faded. So, either, best case scenario, it’s pure coincidence that she’s was right there waiting for him (which means that, if she was the one to destroy the colony, she was lucky, she crossed paths with a fairy and then she followed them home) or, worst case scenario, she can see runic magic, or the signs left by it somehow. In any case, seeing that Sterling can’t track a magic that is long gone by now, it’s better that Stiles does his best to not raise her suspicions. The sooner she forgets about him, the better.

With that out of the way, since they’re already talking about runes, they work out a schedule for the lessons. Eglantine will start with the basics, since she’s the one that usually teaches that to the kids. When he masters that, either Beriadan or Aelfwine, depending on their availability, will take over to teach him the rest. The elders will impart their vast knowledge about the supernatural world in between those lessons. If any of them is otherwise occupied, other fairies will take over the lessons.

At dinner time, his dad calls to tell him he will be late and to apologize, in that order and very awkwardly.

Stiles does throw the brownie into the trash in the end.

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