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acourtofsnakes · 4 years

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Ret'urcye Mhi - Rogue, Chapter 7 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (F)

Summary: Can things go back to normal after the Mandalorian saw you break down? Or have walls been torn down that can’t be replaced?

Warnings: Light swearing, I don’t want to give it away but no smut but… a ‘moment’ with some certainly hot thoughts and pining but nothing heavy though, reader has a back tattoo, let me know if I forgot anything!

AN: I have brought in Cara Dune in this, and she will be a frequent character. I by no means condone what Gina Carano did, and I am pleased and relieved that she is gone. However, I do like her character, as many others do. She IS only mentioned in this one briefly but will be a main character in a few future chapters.

Also, Readers tattoo is loosely based on this design!(link) I’m not sure who the exact creator is, but it was posted by Urban Threads on Pinterest, but if you know, please tell me! ❤️

Word Count: 8231

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs

Mando’a Translation: Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye

Neither of you mentioned that afternoon.

It hadn’t come up in the 3 days since, and it hadn’t come up today. You made sure of it.

Every time Mando looked at you, and you just felt he was going to mention it, you’d change the subject. Or just walk away. You didn’t need to have that conversation with him. You couldn’t have that conversation with him. Or anyone.

The Mandalorian had sat there, holding you for the hours it took for you to cry yourself out. When the shuddering sobs had given way to hitched breaths and a numb stare, he’d still sat there. Rubbing your back in gentle circles, in time with Duru’s tail gently swaying over your arm. He hadn’t uttered a single word either, just letting you break down in his arms.

When the quiet ambiance of the ship and the pressure of his hand had lulled you into sleep, he’d carried you to his bed – well, the narrow cot that jutted out from the wall in what was supposed to be the medical area. He’d given up his sleeping compartment to Grogu a long time ago, to keep the little creature warm and safe.

He’d laid you in, covering you with the blanket and then one more that he pulled out from a unit.

You were asleep, so you hadn’t seen the way his gloved fingers gently brushed back the hair from your tear flushed cheeks, the way they’d lingered for a moment as he’d looked down at the soft strands gliding over his fingers. You hadn’t felt the way he’d frozen when a sudden want crashed through him, to yank off his gloves and run his bare hands through your hair, feel the silkiness and the texture for himself.

And you also wouldn’t have noticed the way his breathing went ragged for a moment and he’d lurched back, stumbling away so quickly he nearly overturned a box on his way out of the door.

Your sleep hadn’t remained easy. Only a few hours later, you had woken up screaming, unsure of where you were, why you were on a thin cot that smelled like metal and smoke and something distinctly unique and almost like sandalwood. It was somehow comforting, soothing. You had inhaled the scent, trying to calm down your pounding heard and regain control of your breathing.

It was only when you could suck in a full breath that you realised where you were, who’s bed this was.

A feeling of gratefulness had crashed over you, only to be immediately wiped out by shame. You had broken down in front of him, spat such awful, awful things to his face.

And when you heard footsteps outside the compartment door, the husky baritone of his voice as he called out your name softly, you’d gone still. Like you were back on the run, mere inches away from a hunter and one move would mean disaster.

He’d lingered, you could see by the shadows of his feet under the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. A wild thought had come to you, that he had his hand pressed to the door and you could just.. open it. Open it and let him come in, let him carry the burden of your nightmares and your feelings even If it was just for a little while. You could share some of those plaguing thoughts that you’d unleashed today. And he would listen. You didn’t know him that well, but you knew him enough to be confident he would sit there, let you talk. He knew what it was like to be alone, to have emotions and worries that you had no choice to bear yourself.

The temptation was so strong, you craved that contact and connection so much that you were halfway across the room before your snarling argument came back in full technicolour. The things you’d said to him. The appalling way you’d acted.

No.

You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t face him after that. After what you had said and the way you had cracked. You shook your head firmly, waiting until you heard a sigh so soft you might have imagined it and retreating footsteps.

It was only then you that you returned to the bed, pulling the twin blankets up high over your shoulders.

You’d deal with seeing him in the morning, but for now, all you could do was bury your face in the thin pillow and try not to notice how it smelt like him.

Something had changed between the two of you since that afternoon. He had glimpsed a part of you that you normally kept perfectly hidden, even from yourself.

…

You were on your way to another bounty, one of the last couple of pucks that Mando had left.

Mando had mentioned it was a hot, desert planet and he’d prefer it if you stayed in the ship with Grogu. It’d be far too hot for the little guy out there. You had obliged happily, more than fine to stay in. You didn’t like to be too hot, it made you uncomfortable and agitated.

The cockpit was quiet, a peaceful silence had descended upon it as Mando flew the ship.

You’d found yourself drawn to watching his hands lately. There was something… oddly soothing about it. Watching him work the controls, hold Grogu, clean his weapons.

You wondered if he missed the sensation of touch, and then wondered if yours and the kids presence here made it harder for him. Meant he had less chances to take off his armour and be free of it.

Of course, that had then led you onto the thought of wondering if he slept naked when he was alone.

The thought of him lying there, nothing hiding him, separating him from the world.

The thin blankets sliding over the body you knew was toned, yet soft enough in all the right places.

It made your mouth a little dry, your cheeks a little pink and you struggled to find something else to think about.

Your eyes drifted to his hands again, remembering the sound of the gloves being drawn off the other night.

They were mesmerising, agile, and you couldn’t stop thinking about them in your hair, on your skin.

Stars above, get a grip, girl.

You mentally scolded yourself for these thoughts, trying to steer your damned imagination onto something more appropriate.

Luckily, your saviour came in the form of Mando himself. He tilted his head back slightly, enough for you to know he was talking to you, “What’s your favourite planet? Or one you’d like to visit?”

The question surprised you, you had to admit. You weren’t used to people asking about your likes and dislikes. You smiled though, perhaps this was his gentle way to break any tension left over. “Hmm… I think… I’d have to say the planet I’d like to visit most... either Hoth or Coruscant.”

Mando laughed, that gorgeous rough, honey laugh, “Okay, Coruscant I can understand, but Hoth? Really?”

You pouted at the back of his head, “Yes!! It sounds beautiful.”

The Mandalorian laughed more, “Beautiful? Sweetheart, it’s covered in ice. It’s freezing there. All you would see is ice and snow… and more ice and more snow.”

You scowled at him now, throwing the leftover wrapper of Grogu’s cookies at his helmet, “And? Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled… Besides, I like the cold.”

Little did you know, Mando was grinning like an idiot under his helmet, adoring the way you defend it to him, the way you describe something as simple as ice and snow. “You like the cold, huh? Then why are you always grumbling that the heating is broken?” The teasing lilt to his voice was evident, so animated and content, compared to his usual cooler, calm silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “That is… completely irrelevant.” You looked at the back of his head, “What about you? If my choices are so hilarious.”

The Mandalorian made a thoughtful noise, “I wouldn’t say there’s one place in particular… But… there’s a few sanctuary planets dotted around. Places with really pretty, dense forests where you could walk for days and not spot anyone else. They’re protected and safe, no dangerous animals or anything allowed… literally sanctuaries. I’d like to take Grogu there… let him wander and have fun and eat things he shouldn’t without having to look over my shoulder.”

It was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go, and there was a tenderness in his voice that brought tears to your eyes. This man truly loved his little green adoptive son and would do anything for him. “That sounds... stunning. I’ve heard of those planets and always wondered what they were like...”

He made a hum of agreement, fingers working over the control panel as he put it in autopilot. “One day…” He turned around in his chair, “What about your favourite colour?”

You moved to sit cross-legged in the seat, defying the concept of a chair. “Blue. Darker blues, like a midnight blue.” You swayed your chair from side to side slightly, “Actually, the same colour as the cloak you got me. So well done, kudo’s for you.”

Mando leant back in his own chair, tapping the side of his helmet before resting his hands on his thighs again. “This thing lets me read minds; you know.”

You began pulling the pins from your hair, “Mmhm, and I can fly.” You raise an eyebrow at him, grinning.

He chuckled, watching you intently behind the helmet though you wouldn’t know that, watching every pin get removed from holding up your hair, “It wouldn’t surprise me at this point, princess.” He tapped his thighs absently, “You wanna know the real secret?”

You nodded, reaching in for a pin that had become stuck deep in your hair, the last one. “Surprise me.” Got it. You yanked the pin out, letting your hair fall down and your fingers through it. You sighed a little in relief as you rubbed your fingertips against your scalp, chasing away any tightness from the day.

Mando didn’t say anything. He was too distracted, to struck into silence by the sight of your hair.

The light from the ship and coming in through the windows turned some of the strands to gold, igniting them with that fire that blazed within you – and that he’d been on the receiving end.

His hands tightened over his thighs, because he was overtaken by a craving, a need to remove your hands and feel your hair for himself.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts.

Fuck, he’d been having these thoughts since he first saw you. He just hadn’t realised them until that night he’d nearly lost his life and woken up to you passed out on his chest.

He’d frozen, even his breathing stopping as he felt the warm weight of you, even though the armour.

He couldn’t bear to move you, to take away that pressure, the closeness of another human that he had missed for so long.

So, he hadn’t. He left you there. Spent hours watching you sleep, the warmth of your breath slightly fogging up the armour on his chest.

“Lori? Anyone in there?” You tilted your head, watching the man before you that was staring at you intently, his breathing somewhat ragged.

He startled slightly, coming back to himself, “Huh?”

You chuckled, “Where did you go? I was waiting for you to knock me off my feet with your revelation.”

He made a noise, “Uh… I.. actually can’t remember...” He tugged at his glove, an odd gesture so at odds with his usual confident demeanour.

You tilted your head, still smiling a little, “Are you okay?”

Luckily, he was saved from answering by the beeping of the controls behind him.

You’d arrived at the planet.

It was hot.

Beyond hot.

The air was warm, the water was warm, you were warm.

And already awake, having just calmed your breathing down from another nightmare, when you heard Grogu, his little coos and gurgled filtering down the hall to you.

The poor little creature had probably woken up from the heat. You had been on this desert planet for a couple of days, opting to stay in and look after the Child whilst Mando hunted down the bounty. The days here were scorching, a dry heat that sucked the life from you immediately. Even the nights were hot, unlike normal freezing desert nights.

Mando had returned this evening, panting from the heat after coming up from the carbonite chamber. “I swear it’s getting hotter out there.”

The cooling system on the Crest was just as temperamental as the heating, so it wasn’t exactly cool in here. The metal floors, which were normally always chilled, were warm underfoot. Mando had let you keep his room, and it was just as hot, being contained in with itself, so you’d been sleeping with the doors open.

Not that it made a dent. Every single closed space was like a heat trap, especially Grogu’s little compartment. So, no wonder he had woken up.

You stretched, then slipped from the cot and made your way to Grogu.

It didn’t take long to settle him, he was all tuckered out from the games you’d been playing today, so after patting his skin with a cool cloth, he had fallen back under.

You were now at the small ‘kitchen’ area in the ship, washing out the cloth. You huffed, splashing some water on your wrists and pulling out the pin that was holding up your hair, and falling out. Grogu had a habit of tugging the ends of your hair in his little fist.

You’d taken to wearing a thin floaty dress to bed, one you’d picked up in that market before it had turned into a horror show. The material was gauzy, allowing the heat to escape your body without it sticking to your clammy skin. What helped enormously was the large cut out in the back. It secured at the back of your neck, and then fell open, exposing almost your whole back before joining again at the base of your spine.

It was probably the flimsiest, most sinful thing you’d ever worn, but it was gorgeous and hey, it did the job.

You rolled your shoulders, pressing the cool cloth to your neck and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips and you could have sworn you heard a sizzle.

Footsteps behind you startled you, breaking you from your reverie, and then Mando’s voice filtered through the silence, “Are you okay?”

You turned around, smiling when you saw him because he was still in all his armour… not that you were surprised. He must have been boiling though, under all those heavy layers.

You nodded, lifting the cloth from your neck, “The kid was awake, but I settled him down, he was really warm.”

His head was covered, naturally, so you wouldn’t have seen the way his eyes followed a bead of water rolling down your neck, and the unbidden thought of his tongue catching it “Thank you for seeing to him, I didn’t hear..”

Weird. Normally he was so attuned to Grogu, hearing him before he even woke up if you were sitting together. Maybe he was tired, from his hunting.

What you didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that he had been staring at the ceiling for the 3rd night in a row. Having thoughts that he should not be having, his body yearning for things it shouldn’t.

You shook your head, still smiling and turned back to the sink area, “It’s no worries, I was awake anyway so… And you’ve been hunting. You deserve the rest.” You set down the cloth, running your hands through your hair and reaching for your pin to secure it back up. You faced him again, gathering your hair in your hands, “How was it?”

But he wasn’t listening.

He suddenly moved forward, and then he was in front of you. “Wait.” His voice was low, almost strained. There was a husk to it that hadn’t been there before, but it ignited something within you.

You froze, your hands still stuck in your hair. You looked up at him, raising your eyebrows slightly, “What..?” It was only now he was right in front of you that you could see his chest, rising and falling rapidly. “Mando, are you okay?”

He shook his head quickly, his helmet tilted down to you, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, “Let your hair down.” His voice was still that rumbly order, and it was such an odd request that you did just that, letting it tumble back down again. Your own hands trembled slightly as you lowered them.

A shudder seemed to roll through his body, and he rocked forward on his feet, lurching toward you in a movement that lacked his usual smooth elegance. It was unsteady, unsure.

He stopped when he was a mere few inches away, the closest you’d been to each other since that afternoon.

This close, you could practically feel the heat roiling off of him under his armour, and you tilted your head up to meet him, concern in your eyes, “Mando, you need to go and have a cold shower.. You sound like you’re burning up… do you feel flushed?”

He shook his head jerkily, his hands raising, “Shh… please. I just.. I need to..” He broke off, a sharp intake of air cutting his words.

Something else began to curl through the worry in your belly, like some instinct knew things you didn’t. You swallowed, your voice low when you next spoke, “You need to what..?”

The Mandalorian was shaking, his body tensing and untensing like he was fighting himself, telling himself not to do this. “I.. I need to touch your hair.”

Stars, you could feel the flush that crept up his neck and cheeks, like it burned through his helmet but you stayed completely still.

His words were whispered through gritted teeth, like he was physically trying to bite them back, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-” He sounded like he was in pain, still breathing raggedly.

Heat flared through your blood, igniting a flame within you that was irresistible. You nodded, letting him see you, “Okay.” Like you could say no to him.

The vocoder nearly didn’t pick up the huff of relief that escaped his lips and he curled his hands into fists again, “Turn around. And close your eyes.” That rough command was back and you were more than obliging to let him navigate this moment.

You turned around, facing the kitchen area, looking over the darkened surroundings before shutting your eyes. It immediately threw all your other senses into overdrive, so you could hear every single rasp of his breath as you exposed your skin to him, and the pounding of your own heart.

“You have to keep them closed. You cannot turn around or look.” There was a desperate plea in his voice, an edge to it that hurt your very soul. He was audibly torn, between his Creed… and this desire that he seemed to have given into.

You nodded again, aching to reach back and reassure him, “I won’t. I won’t open my eyes or turn around until you tell me, I swear on it, Lori.” You let every ounce of truth and understanding seep through your words, praying that it would be enough to convince him he could trust you.

Seemingly, it was, because the next noise that you heard could have struck you dead.

It was the sound of leather rubbing against skin, the friction as they were pulled off, then a soft thump of the material on the floor.

He had taken off his gloves.

He was standing behind you… with his hands bare.

You. A person he hasn’t known for very long at all, and he was partially bare, uncovered.

Your head exploded, a million thoughts racing through it once, sending your heart into overdrive and your own breathing rapid and unsteady.

There was a pause, like he was steeling himself and then… then the slightest sensation, like he was catching the ends of your hair, just brushing them.

That simple movement sent a shiver down your spine, and it was enough to get him to move more. He lifted his hands and then you felt fingers slide into your hair at the back of your head, then slowly, slowly, drag down the length.

You heard a sharp intake of breath behind you, and then a soft mutter, “It’s so soft..” You barely picked it up, even though the ship was silent. The fingers ghosted through your hair again, and his voice was bewildered, “How do you get it this soft in that tiny ‘fresher..” It was like he was talking to himself.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh, a release of tension from this whole thing, “I can’t reveal my secrets, Lori. Can’t have your hair being softer than mine. There’s only room for one on this ship.”

He chuckled, and it ran over your bones like honey, dousing them in such a sweet sensation. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another, princess.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t get the chance to speak because then his fingers were running up your scalp from the base of your head to the crown, with a light pressure and the feeling was so unbelievably good, that you couldn’t help it. Your head leant back into his touch and the faintest sigh left your lips. “Keep doing that..” Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment crashing over you. Why did you have to say that?

The Mandalorian’s hands had paused, absorbing that soft sigh of pleasure and trying to cool his body. But you had a hold over him, he couldn’t say no. He merely did it again, with a firmer press of his fingers against your scalp, a light scrape of his nails just to get you to make that noise again, to be convinced that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You didn’t stop the next sigh, this one louder, more delighted. It was like you knew what the other was thinking, could read each other that well.

He was driving you insane, rendering you speechless just from playing with your hair.

You don’t know how long you stood there for, his hands running through the soft locks.

He lifted it slightly, then made a soft noise. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

A tattoo? Oh right.

It was true, you did. It was a delicate piece, spanning from the top of your spine to just above your hips, lining your spine. It showed the phases of the moon, drawn in a minimalist style, with small stars and additional lines coming out of every other piece.

You nodded quickly, “I’ve had it for years.” Fuck, could your voice sound anymore needy?

“What does it mean?” His words were murmured and then the next thing could have had you on your knees.

You heard a sound that had haunted you since the night he nearly died, the sound of leather sliding over skin. The soft plop as it fell to the floor.

No way. Has he just..

His fingers, his bare fingers ghosted down your spine, following the line of it with a touch so fleeting it almost made you whine.

In fact, it did, a whimper rising from deep in your chest.

He was touching you.

His bare skin, skin that he had sworn by Creed to keep covered and hidden until marriage, was trailing down your spine as light as wings.

Pleasure shot straight though you, making your nerves and blood sing, making your knees shake and your belly hot.

A tug on your hair, a tug that was sharp enough to send a faint tinge of pain through your scalp had you moaning, you couldn’t help it. Your lips parted and the moan fell from them, soft, a little high and drawn.

Mando swore under his breath, his whole body twitching behind yours, “I asked you a question, sweetheart.” There was a hoarseness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a straining note like your moan had shot right through him. Which is had.

What does it mean… what does it mean? Focus!!

“Um… right. When I was on the run, initially in the beginning, I never had a place to call home. Everything I knew had been torn away, and I could never settle anywhere. Every night, I would look up into the sky and watch the moon. No matter what planet I was on, no matter where I was, or if there two moons or 4, it was always there. I only had to look up, and there was something up there to ground me, give me some sense of comfort. It might look smaller, or be a different colour, but it was still the moon. And it made me feel… safe. Like it was a… a companion in a way. I just had to look a little closer, beneath the colours or the distance and there it was. It was always in the sky, so I wanted to get it tattooed so that it would always be with me. No matter if I was outside, as free as I could be, or inside and trapped.” You flushed a little, “That probably makes no sense and sounds so stupid.”

You could sense the Mandalorian shaking his head, his voice still low and soft, “No.. I think it’s beautiful. And I get it. I move around so much too, there’s only a few things that always remain the same. So I know the value of having something familiar.” He ghosted his fingers down it again, trailing all the way down to where the cut out portion of your dress stopped and then back up again.

When his hand reached the top of the tattoo, he slid it up further, cupping the back of your neck in his broad, warm hand.

It sent electricity shooting across your skin, that blazed as he wrapped his thumb and fingers around either side of your neck, just a gentle pressure there.

You moaned again; you didn’t even try to hide it. Your head fell back, exposing your throat to him in a sign of instinctual submission, even though you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. You didn’t mind, you just needed more, more than this teasing touch, more than the faint brush of his fingertips. Your chest shuddered, knuckles white as you gripped the counter in an effort to stay still, “Lori…” You whined his name, hoping it would spark something in him, would force him to do something.

You felt him shudder again, felt his hips draw back from your body like he was trying to hide just what these noises did to him.

Fuck.

It burned you, turned your belly molten and the power that washed over you was heady. You had turned him on just from your hair, your skin and your moans.

The voice that came out was equally as tight, husky and you might have lived and died inside the low baritone “What is it, princess?”

Your fingers curled around the side of the counter in front of you, and you were glad he couldn’t see your face when you whispered, “Please..”. Your voice was low, pleading and aching.

You felt him shudder behind you, a tiny groan echoing through the helmet.

His next words nearly undid you there and then, “Like I could say no to you.”

Then his fingers pressed into your spine, caressing down your back over the tattoo with such admiration, such warmth that it arched slightly, chasing more of that sensation.

Your head was spinning, convinced you were dreaming, that this wasn’t real.

This didn’t happen between you both.

You flirted, sure. But that was harmless, playful.

This… this was real. He was letting you feel his bare skin, uncovered and unhidden.

And it was tearing you apart.

The scrape of his thumbnail on your skin tore you from those thoughts, ripped you back to the present as it ran down the curve of your back. If your eyes had been open, they would have rolled into the back of your head.

Your head fell forward, back arching completely into him and the sound that you let out was sinful. You could only concentrate on the that sharp, pleasurable hurt that you felt in your belly, the feeling of his other hand as it held your shoulder, holding you in that arch.

Heat pooled low in your belly, and every dream, every thought you’d been trying to suppress about him came blasting into full technicolour. All because of his hands.

Those damn hands you’d been pining over since saving his life.

His head was so close over your shoulder that you could hear the low pant of his breath, the coolness of his armour barely brushing your shoulders as you pressed back into him.

Fuck, did he want this as much as you did?

By the way his hand tightened, he had to. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you did.

You swallowed, licking your lips to say something, anything, spur him on but a harsh beeping suddenly broke through the thick tension on the room. A light was flashing, and by the time the fog of pleasure cleared in your head, he was gone.

Gloves picked up and yanked on, boots disappearing up the ladder into the cockpit to check on the autopilot.

The taut sensation in your body snapped, making you sink to the floor as though the strings had been cut.

You lifted shaking hands to your face, burying them in them with a low noise. Your head was a mess, you couldn’t get over it. Couldn’t stop feeling his fingers on your back, your hair. Hear the ragged pant of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against your shoulders.

It was just touch, just the simple act of touch but it had igniting something so fierce within you.

Something had changed.

What the fuck was that?

You sat there on the floor for Maker knows how long, before dragging yourself up and hurrying off in search of a very, very cold shower.

You weren’t quite sure how to face him the next morning.

You had taken your cold shower, and it had done nothing to cool the fire in your blood so you had to take the initiative, hoping the crash of the water and the fact you were biting down the back of your free hand would cover the desperate moans you made.

Little did you know, the Mandalorian was going through the exact same thing, back arched, lips biting into his lip to stop the groans.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, stop thinking about what had occurred between you.

Surely it broke some kind of rules of his Creed?

He had touched you with his bare skin. You weren’t married. You weren’t together. You didn’t even know his name.

Yet he had touched you and.. reacted to you.

Maybe that was just instinct, his body’s natural response to such things.

But he had carried on… until you were disturbed anyway.

Your head went round and round in these circles until your body had calmed down enough to sleep.

…

You rose early, wanting to be washed, dressed and ready and doing something to occupy you before you had to think too much about what you were going to say. Maybe just… Good morning?

Sure. Good morning was fine.

Normal.

It totally didn’t reveal what you’d had to do in the shower, or the thoughts you were still having about it.

You had this discussion with yourself all the way up the ladder of the cockpit, and when you rose to your height, you blurted it out in a cheery voice before you could bail, “Morning!”

Breezy. Nailed it.

The Mandalorian was sitting in the pilot’s chair, fiddling with controls and levers, gloves firmly on. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay in the heat?”

You nodded, sinking down into the pilots chair and feeding Duru a treat, “Yes, thank you. Finally.” You stroked under Duru’s chin, your eyes straying to those hands as he slide them over some switches.

The same hands that had cupped the back of your neck and trailed fire down your spine.

A flush started to creep along your cheeks, so you quickly looked away, “Did you?”

The light bounced off of his helmet as he nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Polite. His words were polite. Almost... distant.

Okay… Okay, so maybe he just feels awkward?

You bit your bottom lip, worried if you should say something.

No, leave it. He no doubt feels over-exposed and maybe shy about what happened last night. Don’t bring it up. Just act normal.

You nodded faintly to yourself and returned your attention back to Duru.

Mando was ignoring you.

You had been trying to deny it, but he most certainly was.

Yesterday, he had engaged in talking to you now and then throughout the day, but only passing comments and a few spare words.

You had spoken more when you were beating the shit out of each other.

You kept telling yourself that it was just lingering awkwardness from how to go back to normal after that night, but the gnawing in your gut told you otherwise.

It had been shouting at you this morning when he had parked the ship on a planet, announced he was going hunting and he’d be back in a few hours.

Then he’d just gone.

You had waited for him all day, mooched around the ship, played with Grogu and Duru and tried not to worry.

You sat up for hours, even when the little ones had gone to sleep, waiting to talk to him.

You’d convinced yourself that you should talk about. You should tell him you didn’t expect anything from him. That you didn’t hate him, that he didn’t hurt you or anything like that.

Just to tell him whatever you needed to stop this frostiness.

You had it all planned, had every phrase and comment worked out to stop this atmosphere.

About 15 minutes ago, you’d heard the ramp open. 3 minutes after that, the hiss and echo of the carbonite chamber.

Then you’d heard him go and check on the kid, then go to his quarters.

And now, it was his booted feet on the steps to the cockpit that held your attention.

You took a deep breath, prayed to the Maker and spun your seat to face him as he rose up.

The mere sight of that beskar-clad body set your heart thumping, but you coaxed an easy smile on your lips anyway. “Hey, how was the hunt? Cause you any trouble?”

Mando didn’t turn his head to look at you, just padded over to his seat and spun it to the control panel, “It was fine. Easy.” His words were clipped, not harsh, just… efficient. Straight to the point.

You swallowed, your courage faltering a little.

Mentally, you scolded yourself. You didn’t falter in the face of a man who’d touched you and now wouldn’t talk to you. You didn’t whimper and pander to a tense atmosphere.

You sat up a little straighter, pulling your shoulders back and you looked over at him.

Now or never.

“About the other night-”

“I’m taking you to Nevarro.”

What?

You had both spoken at the same time, your eyes now bewildered as you beheld him. “What?”

He said nothing, just fiddled with some controls.

“Mando, what do you mean?” Your voice was shocked, but steady. Did nothing to betray the shock that had just hit your chest like a punch.

You didn’t hear him swallow, only heard his words, “I’m taking you to Nevarro. We’re on the way now.” He said them softly, evenly.

Hearing it again only made your heart drop to somewhere around your waist.

He was leaving you. Dumping you on some planet. And going.

Your hand tapped your leg as sort of nervous habit, and then the words were out, “Is this because of the other night?”

It was his turn to sound bewildered, his head just turning to the side, but you knew he couldn’t see you in his peripheral, “What? What do you mean?”

Your heart was starting to beat uncomfortably in your chest, a sense of shame beginning to creep over you, “Because of what happened in the kitchen. I didn’t see you, I didn’t see your skin.”

Mando turned to face you, one hand still on the panel, his hair half turned but head rotated all the way to look at you, “No, no it’s not because of that-“

You cut him off, “You didn’t… you didn’t offend me. Or hurt me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry if.. if my reaction made you feel awkward or think something. I don’t.. I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I never have, so please don’t think that.” You flushed, the shame colouring your cheeks. You couldn’t help it. But this was the reason, right? The only reason why he would be dumping you.

He shook his head, “Stop. Stop..” His voice softened slightly, “No. It’s not because of… that. I know you didn’t see me. And I know you don’t expect anything from me.” He took a breath, “I’m taking you to Nevarro to keep you safe. That’s all. I have friends there, Cara Dune and Greef Karga. They’ll look after you. They’ve already set up accommodation for you, so you don’t need to worry about that.

They already knew?

Something like hurt flashed in your eyes, colouring your tone, “They… You already planned this..?” There was no bite in your voice like you would normally have in this situation, you were too shocked by the sudden change in direction your journey was taking.

Mando tilted his head, “I contacted them whilst I was on the hunt… I wanted it set up before we got there, so you wouldn’t stand out to anyone looking.” He still looked at you, “Is that okay?”

You sensed you wouldn’t have a choice in this. So you decided to take the high road. You wouldn’t whine about this.

You smoothed your expression over into a mask of calm, “Yes… I was just a little surprised that’s all. But thank you, really. I’ll… set about packing my things.”

He sounded confused, his head tilting back to watch you rise from your chair, “We have a couple of days yet.”

You nodded, “Oh, I know, I just want to make sure I have everything. And all the things I want to steal from you.” You laughed, even going so far as to nudge his shoulder before escaping.

You were gone to quickly, so you wouldn’t have seen the way he slumped in his chair, dropped his head into his hands. You wouldn’t have heard the pained sigh that escaped his lips at the thought have having to part with you.

The Mandalorian stood at the top of the ramp with you, staring out across the dusty, volcanic terrain of Nevarro. Your new home for… however long.

You said nothing, running your fingers along the edge of your cloak, observing the landscape and trying not to let any emotion show on your face. You had kept up natural conversation the past few days. Saying nothing of the wrenching pain that tore in your chest every time you remembered you were departing.

Mando cleared his throat, one arm holding Grogu and the other hand resting on his hip in a gesture that was becoming painfully familiar, “Cara and Greef know you’re coming. They’ll be waiting in Cara’s office for you.”

Grogu was sulking, squirming every now and then to try and get out of Mando’s grip. He had screamed the whole morning, and only calmed down when you hugged him and sung to him on the way here.

You nodded, also trying to ignore the thoughts swirling round in your mind as to why he was leaving you here. Was it because of your argument? The way you had broken down in front of him? Or was it because of the other night? The way his fingers had run through your hair, and then trailed down your spine, mapping your tattoo. His bare fingers. The things he’d whispered to you, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days..”

Had he known then that he was going to leave you here? Or was it after that, that he’d decided he had broken one too many rules and had to get rid of you.

Words floated over to you, and you realised he was talking again so you hauled your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“-safe here. No one will come looking for you. Greef has taken all the pucks that have come through with your name on them and Cara will do sweeps every couple of days to make sure.”

You looked down at your feet, a bitter feeling leeching through your veins that was getting stronger with every moment you got closer to leaving the Crest.

“Hey… look at me..”

It was that honey softness of the Mandalorian’s tone that finally had you looking up at him, your expression perfectly masked to hide every ounce of emotion in you aside from a calm neutrality.

He tilted his head a little, turning his body toward you, “Please don’t think I’m dumping you here. I had planned to bring you here since I destroyed the puck and the fob.”

Like that made you feel any better.

He must have read the flicker in your eyes, because he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your upper arm, “I want you to be safe.” You could almost feel his eyes boring into yours, “I am more than grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And the kid. More than you’ll ever know. But, travelling with me.. it only increases the target on your back. People know you’re with me. I don’t want that for you.. you deserve to be free..”

And what about what I want?

You only smiled, forcing your expression to one of a lighter one and you nudged him gently, “Hey, I get it. You have to get rid of me because I’m showing you up on hunts. Can’t have anyone destroying your infamous reputation.” You rolled your eyes, laughing even if it did send daggers into your heart.

And his.

He squeezed your shoulder playfully, then dropped his hand. “You’re hilarious. I told you, the day you beat me is the day the stars implode.” You could feel a line of humour in his voice though, and it softened your shoulders, made you relax.

He was doing this to keep you safe. He had planned this for weeks so you could have a break, a chance to rest.

So, you lifted your head a little higher, your smile becoming more real. “Thank you, Mando. For everything. I can’t ever repay you for this, for what you’ve done.” You motioned to the outside.

He nodded, his hand resting at his sides again now, “We’ll call it even.” His head remained focused on you, lingering on you and then he reached into a pouch and held out his free hand, “Here.”

You let him drop the objects in your hand, a small stack of credits.

“It’s not much, I know, but it’ll be enough to get you some food and supplies you need. You don’t need to worry about a place to stay, Cara will show you but… You can get what you want and need.” He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly.

You swallowed, closing your hand around the credits and you slipped them into the pocket inside your cloak. “Thank you..”

The Mandalorian merely nodded again, leaning back against the threshold of the ramp, his thumb absently rubbing circles on Grogu’s belly.

It seemed that there was nothing else to draw this goodbye out, so you took a breath, straightening your cloak. “Well… I guess I’ll say goodbye then.” You looked up at him, then stuck out your hand for his, realising only a few seconds later how dumb that was.

Before you could pull your hand back, he reached out and clasped your hand in his own, wrapping his fingers around your distinctly smaller hand. “Goodbye… princess.” You heard the smirk in his voice, and you couldn’t help the chuckle and the eye roll again, not failing to notice the way his hand tightened involuntarily and then withdrew.

You looked at Grogu in his other arm, who was still avoiding looking at the pair of you, wriggling in his father’s arms. You bent down to draw your face to his level and you stroked his ears, “I’ll miss you, little guy. Make sure to keep your dad on his toes, okay? You gotta make up for both of us now.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his little hand pat your cheek with a mournful noise. Tears burned the back of your eyes, so you leant back, instead picking up Duru so she could say goodbye.

Grogu cooed sadly again, stroking Duru’s cheek, looking up at her with his glossy eyes.

You let Duru but her head against him, chitter a goodbye and then you stepped back, allowing her to climb up your shoulders as you looked up at Mando.

You just watched him for a moment, his armour reflecting the light on one side and then, with a soft inhale of courage, you turned and walked down the ramp, Duru padding at your feet.

You had only just cleared the ramp, stepping onto the hard, compacted ground when Mando called out, “Wait.”

You turned quickly, hope blooming in your heart, in your expression though you tried to stop it.

He had made a step onto the ramp, body poised like it was trying to run to you but he was holding back. He hesitated, almost as if he were torn with what to say – or what not to say, but all that came out was, “Ret'urcye mhi.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that licked down your spine, the way his voice turned into dripping honey when he spoke Mando’a. “What does that mean..?” You prayed he couldn’t hear the slight hoarseness to your tone.

He tilted his head down to look at Grogu, then lifted it back up to you, “It means goodbye…. And maybe we’ll meet again..”

Your heart swelled a little, a flush of pain going through it but you smiled softer, your expression melting and you inclined your head slightly, “I would like that.. very much…”

There were a million other things that threatened to roll off your tongue, pour from you but before they could, you turned around, walking toward the town and feeling his eyes on you the entire time, burning into the back of your head like a fiery brand.

You were about 4 metres away when you heard Grogu start crying, when your own tears broke through and spilled down your cheeks. You kept walking, even when your vision began to blur and go fuzzy.

So you didn’t see the way Mando hugged Grogu closer, whispered, “I know, kid, I don’t want her to go either.”

You’d be okay. It would be fine.

So you and the Mandalorian were parting. It was no big deal. You had helped each other; you had returned each other’s debts. You owed each other nothing.

The sound of engines whirring filtered into your ears, and you waited until you heard the Crest lift from the ground before turning round.

You paused, wiping your cheeks as the ship that had become a haven of sorts lifted into the sky. It hovered for a second, as if hesitating and then shot up higher, taking with it the two people that you had come to mean more to you than you realised. It felt like the Razor Crest had taken your heart with it.

How comes you hadn’t realised before how much they meant?

Too late now.

You remained watching the sky, long after the ship had vanished into the atmosphere.

With a shuddering breath, you wiped your cheeks. You kissed Duru’s tail, and then returned to walking toward the town.

You’d be okay… right?

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin blurb #grogu #the force #star wars #rogue

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

innocence - 26

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: no smut this time, just bucky meeting the family

NEXT CHAPTER

Her mother pulled Bucky into the house. She lived exactly where he’d expect her to live in, a dark academia sort of environment in shades of green, burgundy and dark browns. The walls were filled with shelves containing seas and seas of books and little memorabilia. There were photos of the family on the walls and Bucky noticed the little one right by the staircase of a young girl in a periwinkle dress sat on the beach with a bright smile whom he was absolutely certain was his Y/N. The woman continued to lead them until what he guessed was the living room where the fireplace was on and two kids were running around.

Bucky stood behind with Y/N as her mother made haste towards the drinks’ trolley where Y/N was almost sure the same watered down bottle her brother Anthony had constantly stolen from as a teenager still stood. They were lucky enough not to still have been noticed, her family having an weirdly tradition of not allowing anyone in the living area until they had a drink in hand. Of course she knew why, her family made so many questions both appropriate and inappropriate you’d have to be positively inebriated to deal with it.

- Everyone... - Lucy, Y/N’s mother, handed Bucky a burgundy coloured liquid before pulling him inside the living room. - Don’t be shy, Bucky. Everyone, this is Bucky, he’s Y/N’s boyfriend.

- I thought he’d be smaller. - a man got up from the dark burgundy couch, walking up to Bucky with an extended hand towards him. Bucky looked at his hand then at his own, before switching to shake it with his flesh arm rather than the metal aberration he’d covered with a glove. - Had a nice flight? Little bean here said she booked first flight tickets even though I told her it’s ...

- A waste of money, I know dad. - Y/N interrupted.

- It was nicer than I expected, sir. - Bucky said yet Y/N could see that little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. - Your daughter made it all the better.

- Hope she didn’t bother you with leitmotifs. - another man who looked just around Y/N’s age piped up.

- Colin, don’t even say that word, it might get her started. - a girl, blonde hair dressed in a baby blue dress added. - Oh wow, you’re athletic.

- C’mon El, you promised to help me tease Y/N about her first serious boyfriend. - Colin wrapped his arms around Y/N but she merely playfully slapped his chest. - Look at you, the last Y/L/N sibling to introduce someone to the family. We were gonna buy you a cake but mum said no.

- Colin Y/L/N, leave your sister be. - Lucy slapped her son’s head. - We are very happy that Y/N and Bucky are here.

- She’s happy there’s a chance you might give her grandchildren. - Colin whispered before adopting that grin that as children made Y/N want to throw a pillow at him.

- Colin, I said to leave your sister be. - Lucy wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter. - That is not the reason I’m happy you’re dating. Me and your father were just afraid that you would be a bit lonely in New York.

- Because you have no friends. - Eloise added.

- Eloise, leave your sister be. She has plenty of friends. - their father added, not moving from his chair where he had returned to read the paper.

- Where is your sister? She should be here to meet Bucky.

- Claire is busy with her husband convincing my husband to get me to have a rat-like creature they call a baby. - Eloise sat down on the other couch, legs crossed over each other. - Do you want a baby, Bucky?

- Eloise! - Y/N yelled out of shame. Now she understood why her mother looked so dead whenever she had to go shopping with 4 children at 10 AM. She was clearly wrong to think her siblings would act like regular human beings in front of a guest, they barely acted like regular human beings on a regular basis. - We should go put the bags in my bedroom.

- No, wait, beanie. CLAIRE! CLAIRE COME SAY HI TO YOUR SISTER AND BUCKY! - Y/N’s mother rushed to the kitchen, yelling out whom he guessed was the name of Y/N’s last sibling. Out of the kitchen and into the living room came a girl dressed in the same dress as Eloise except it was purple, holding a bundle of blankets against her chest.

- Aw, let me hold Sophie. - Y/N dropped her bags to meet her sister who handled her the baby. Bucky inspected the scene, watching as her embarrassed facade quickly changed into one of wonder as she looked at her niece. - Look at you, you’re so cute, Miss Sophie, yes you are.

- Claire, say hi to Bucky.

- Why is he so tall? - she shook his hand. - I thought you’d be smaller with that nickname.

Is this was Steve felt like after the serum? Bucky had never stopped to consider that maybe his nickname sounded like a name you’d give a short guy, to be honest, he doesn’t even remember how it came to be, he just remembered his mum calling it and it sticking. However, he did have to admit that he enjoyed seeing everyone’s confused look once they met him as if he was the tallest man alive when he was barely taller than Y/N’s brother.

- Conor, Jack come meet Bucky too. - Y/N’s mum held two men by the arm who looked as lost in the family reunion as Bucky did. - Conor’s Eloise’s husband and Jack’s Claire’s.

- Okay. - Y/N interrupted before anyone else told her boyfriend he was too tall. Handing Sophie back to her sister, she held Bucky’s hand. - We are going to put the bags upstairs and take the coats off and we’ll return.

Y/N knew her family way too well. She had been here when Claire brought Jack home for the first time and her father questioned him about a notorious case followed by Colin asking him if he needed earbuds for Claire’s snoring. She had also been there when Conor and all of Colin’s girlfriends so she knew when it was time to run away with Bucky from her very devoted and very curious family who had already decided to have the baby conversation with him before she had even mention it.

Bucky looked at the photos that were scattered on the staircases’ wall. He could always pinpoint where Y/N was, normally in the front with those beautiful, shining eyes. He noticed one particular photo of Y/N alone against a dark blue background in her graduation gown holding her diploma, posing like a beauty queen. He made a note to sneak a photo of it once she wasn’t looking.

She led him into her bedroom. It was a rather small one in tones of white and beige with a double bed. The walls were clean rather than one with a bookcase of dark wood filled with books, trophies and little frames of photos of her as a kid. Her bed had a small white lamb laying on it with some heart shaped pillows and a knitted beige blanket.

- Is that you? - Bucky rushed to the shelf to grab a photo of Y/N as a toddler dressed as a ballerina holding a golden medal.

- Yeah. My grandmother was a prima ballerina so she made all of us do ballet which came quite in handy when I was in Phantom. - she put her coat on the hook on the door. - Sorry about my mum, and my dad and my siblings. I should already apologise for their husbands and the toddlers you haven’t met yet since they’re out with Grandma Louis who I’m also sorry for.

- That’s fine. I think they don’t hate me much.

- It’s better than when Colin introduced Kate, mum was so upset she didn’t speak to her. I would say they love you.

- So which one is the oldest? Is there an hierarchy I should know about?

- I’m the oldest then Colin, Claire and finally Eloise. Eloise got married first and then Claire and Colin is living la vie boheme.

- And you? - he wrapped his arms around her waist

- I’m the actress. Once Aunt Petunia or Grandma Louis gets here you’ll listen to the “the debate team champion becomes an actress kissing all those men and she’s still single” discussion. I also apologise for that in advance.

- Well but you are not single anymore. - Bucky leaned down to kiss her. - And I will allow you to parade me as your boyfriend. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

- Ah yes, my three time three-time boxing champion boyfriend.

- You’re not gonna drop that, aren’t you?

- What? It’s very alluring, gets me going.

- Is that why you gave me an handjob at the airport, princess? - he leaned down to whisper against her ear. She felt goosebumps raise up her skin, mouth drying up as she tried to find the words. - You better have thick walls, princess.

- Beanie ... - her mother knocked on the door, pushing the door slightly open and sticking her head in. - We were wondering if Bucky ate meat. We bought this meat that’s not really meat and it’s vegan. I asked some of my colleagues at work to help me cook it and we made some but we can make more if Bucky wants some.

- No, Mrs. I’m okay with anything, it’s fine.

- Non sense. Y/N tell Bucky he can pick what to eat. You’re American right? I’m making some chicken nuggets for the kids and Colin, I could make you some if you’d like.

- Mum, that’s stereotypical.

- Nonsense, beanie. What do you want to eat, Bucky?

- I’ll eat whatever Y/N does, m’am. - he tried to hide the little grin as Y/N stood by his side still processing what Bucky had just said to her. - It’s fine, m’am, really. I don’t want to be a bother, I’m so grateful you and your family are okay with having me for Christmas.

Lucy merely smiled at him as a way of saying it was no problem. Y/N knew her family, they adored to embarrass their children in front of their partners, lovers, and friends but they would adore whoever their children adored as if they belonged to the family since the dawning of time. The actress rose her head to look at her boyfriend, staring at the door like a fading vision on the desert, relaxed muscles and expression. Her hold on his hand strengthened as her head laid against his shoulder, laying a small kiss on the fabric of his shirt.

- Do you want to go downstairs? We can stay here for a few minutes before dinner.

- Yeah, princess. - he snapped himself out of his state, smiling down at his caring girlfriend before following her down the stairs.

Her family had a lot of photos, some on big frames on the wall and other small ones in coffee tables and other surfaces. He couldn’t help but look at them, watching Y/N through the ages and wondering how she was. She always had that look, that inner shyness and bright eyed appearance. Most photos were school photos with that dark blue background followed by a few backstage photos of her in elaborate stage makeup and costumes. Bucky wanted a photo of her, any photo of her, to have in his wallet. Not that he would forget what she looked like, he could never forget it but he wanted to. He wanted to look at her face whenever he paid for his coffee, show people when they asked about her, he guessed he wanted to have the same pride in showing his girlfriend his father had about showing his mother. He wanted a suburban existence, no more Winter Soldier, no more Avengers, just James Barnes. Yet, he also knew he did not deserve that. No, he had taken that structure from so many people he didn’t deserve it.

Once in the living room, there were more people, notably two kids running around the Christmas tree and two women sat by the beautifully placed table. He felt shy, not knowing exactly what to say, barely knowing these people.

- Ah, let me look at you. - one of the woman from the table got up and walked towards them. Bucky thought none of it, thinking it to be directed towards Y/N until the woman took him by surprise by cupping his face. - You’re just gorgeous. Nice eyes, strong features.

- Aunt Petunia! - Y/N took her aunt’s hands away from Bucky’s face. - Please.

- You know what they say about men with strong features, great lovers, great breeders.

- Oh my god. - that’s it, she was no longer going to have a boyfriend once she got back to New York. - Bucky, this is my aunt Petunia.

- Nice to meet you m’am. - Bucky extended his hand to her but the woman merely pushed him towards the table.

- I thought she was kidding when she said she was bringing someone home yet here you are. - she led both of them to side by side seats on the table. - So, Bucky have you meet Grandma Louis?

- I’m afraid not.

- Look ma, Y/N brought a boyfriend home.

- Can we please not treat this like a world limited event?

- Nope. - Colin sat next to Y/N. - I had a bet with Eloise you’d date a 50 year old librarian and I lost which is unfair because 100 year old soldier is almost the same.

- It’s not and you know it. - Eloise argued from the other side of the table. - How’s the movie, Y/N?

- It’s ... good. - she forced a smile, not wanting to show the same family who always wondered why unlike every of her siblings she, the debate captain and champion, had turned down the option to do Law and instead pursued an acting career. Did acting made her happy? Yes. Did the movie made her happy? No.

- She’s the best actress I have ever met and seen. - Bucky drew invisible circles over her palm. - Everyone’s always speechless during her takes.

- That’s my beanie, always the best at whatever she does. - Y/N’s father added. - Besides, one of us has to not be a lawyer. We’re starting to be known as the lawyer family.

- So Bucky, are you enjoying London? Have you ever been? - Claire asked while putting the bibs on her two toddlers who were still happily playing with toy cars on the table.

- Long time ago, it’s a bit different now.

- Y/N should take you to see the tree in Trafalgar, it’s absolutely stunning. - Lucy added. - It’s where her father purposed.

- It’s where everyone purposed in this family. We need a new tradition. - Colin rolled his eyes.

- If it were up to you, you’d purpose in a McDonalds after coming from the pub.

- Shut up, Eloise.

Bucky merely kept to himself during the dinner, replying to the questions that were thrown his way and laughing at the jokes. There was the odd questions every once and then which Y/N would normally reply to followed by telling him she was sorry which he found adorable. Normally it was him who was defensive over her, too defensive even and to see her take on the role warmed his heart. The dinner ran smoothly and soon everyone was sat on the couch by the fireplace. She was by his side, head on his shoulder as a It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television.

The night kept going in and in until everyone decided to climb up to their respective bedrooms. Y/N turned on the heating the moment she came in, stripping onto her own cozy red pyjamas while Bucky kept inspecting her room. She had a bunch of books and programs from various West End musicals as well as a few bits of Star Wars memorabilia scattered on the shelves and a Phantom of the Opera music box on her desk. What caught his attention was the tiny miniature of a white picked fence house on her bedside table. Had she been an avid miniature collector and he didn’t know about it?

- Hey, what’s this? - he pointed at the little house.

- Oh ... that.

- Is it a sore topic? I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to ...

- It’s okay, Bucky. - she smiled. - It’s just a silly thing from when I was a kid. I told my mum I wanted to marry Luke Skywalker and move into a white picket fence home and she bought me it. Then I just wanted the house as I grew up but hey I live in SoHo, the best I can do is get another one of those

- You want a white picket fence house?

- It’s silly. - she hide her head as a familiar heat climbed up to her cheeks. Bucky placed the miniature back where it was, walking up to her.

- It’s not silly. I like picket white fence houses too, princess.

- You do?

- Yeah. One of my cousins had one when I was a kid and I always envisioned one for myself.

- Did you?

- Yeah and then I met you and I thought screw the home, as long as I get to come home everyday to you we could be living in a cardboard home but if you want a white picked fence house than I’ll give you one.

- Buck ...

- I’m not kidding. - he smiled at her. - We’ll live wherever you’d like and every single day we’ll come back home to each other and I will pretend I’m not tired so I can stay up and look at you smiling at those TV show reruns you like so much.

- You like them too. - she added.

- Maybe but until then ... - he walked up to his bag removing an worn out big navy blue box. - You can have this.

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sing-a-sirensong · 3 years

Text

Venomous

A Reed900 Venom AU I had rattling around in my brain, thanks to Discord.

Summary: Gavin’s strange new “roommate” has some questions about human behaviour. Rating: E Warnings: None

On AO3 here

———————

Some people have their entire lives planned out. Others have no plans at all, just letting life take them in any direction it happens to go. Either way, “expect the unexpected” is a commonly spoken phrase. Unexpected changes are a fact of life, all just a part of the human experience. However, there are some events that seem so far out of the realm of possibility that one might wonder about the existence of some giant cosmic joke.

Gavin Reed is not the type of man to wax philosophical, or question some cosmic order, or think about his place in the universe beyond being a damn good detective. Right now, in fact, he’s pondering little more than what to eat for dinner as he stands idly waiting at a crosswalk. Music plays a little too loudly in his earbuds.

Chinese again? Gavin wonders, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. Maybe pizza. Got one of those coupon books in the mail.

He’s pulled from his musings by a touch against his shoulder, an accidental bump by another pedestrian crossing the opposite direction. Gavin turns his head as they walk away, allowing himself a brief up-and-down glance at the retreating figure. Tall, fitted slacks, legs a mile long. Fuck. Gavin thinks, I haven’t gotten laid in ages.

Gavin.

He sighs tiredly, pausing his music. He’s gotten so used to the internal commentary by now that he doesn’t even feel surprised anymore when his new… roommate pipes up.

“Yeah tar pit?” He answers, out loud. He fiddles absently with his earphones, grateful for the wonders of modern technology that keep him from looking like a complete lunatic talking to himself.

Having offspring now would be very inconvenient.

“W-What?” Gavin stutters, taken off guard by the odd choice of topic. “Dude, what the fuck are you talking about.” A mild annoyance that was not his own filtered into his mind.

That other human. You considered procreating with them.

He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That isn’t- ok first of all, don’t call it that. And second of all, this isn’t a conversation to have in public. Just wait five minutes until we get home.” The feeling of annoyance settled slightly, and his head was quiet again.

Less than five minutes later, in the elevator to his apartment, the peace was broken.

We should not have pizza for dinner again. It is not healthy for us to have such an unvaried diet.

Gavin sighs again, something he seemed to do a lot more frequently now. He steps off the elevator, walking down the hall.

“Alright, how about the chicken alfredo from that place around the corner?” He suggests, unlocking the door and stepping in, shrugging off his jacket and shoes. “I’ll even get it with broccoli so we can eat one whole vegetable.”

Can we get the chocolate lava cake?

Gavin snorts, warm fondness settling in his chest. “Yeah buddy, we can get the chocolate lava cake.”

Excellent.

A cantankerous meow signals the presence of Princess Peanut; Gavin’s crotchety, cranky, three-legged very senior cat. She stares up at him with two murky orange eyes and lets out another raspy howl. How rude of him to set foot in his own home and not pay attention to her immediately upon arrival.

Gavin feels the now-familiar sensation of Nines manifesting physical form, a feeling akin to peeling tape or glue off of your skin, except it feels more everywhere. The odd creature Gavin now shares his body with leans down, bracing their weight on one hand and gently petting the cat with the other. It’s adorable, in a heartwarming, eldritch horror sort of way.

Nines appears to be a young man, looking almost human enough. Dark brown hair that sometimes slips into curling tendrils, blue-grey eyes that almost seem to glow, black stained nails that might be a little too sharp, gleaming white teeth that are definitely too sharp, and pale skin that’s just a touch too grey, fading into the swirling black mass at his hips where he emerges from Gavin’s torso.

But as odd as it is, Gavin thinks this appearance is for his benefit. He knows that isn’t what Nines looked like the first time he showed himself to Gavin. He remembers it being almost… mechanical looking. All sharp lines, and sleek inky blackness. Two glowing eyes. Of course Gavin had been completely losing his mind at the time, in the middle of a (very understandable) breakdown, so his memories may be slightly exaggerated.

Another grouchy meow jolts Gavin into motion, Nines retreating back under his skin.

“Alright you fucking Nut, I’m getting to it.” Gavin grumbles, opening a fresh tin for the princess’s dinner. He gives her a quick scratch under the chin, and leaves the kitchen to flop on the couch.

Gavin.

He hums in acknowledgment, idly considering a nap before dinner.

We are home.

“Yeah tar pit, we are.” He mumbles.

We can continue the conversation about procreation now.

Gavin’s eyes snap open, wide awake now. “Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Fuck, um.” He sits up, scraping his fingers roughly through his hair. “First of all, don’t call it that. It’s just sex. It’s not really about making babies or whatever, it’s to relieve tension. Because it just uh, feels good. Really good.”

Unintentionally, Gavin remembers being bent over various pieces of furniture and fucked silly by his previous trysts. He flushes slightly with embarrassment, Nines definitely saw that. He’s still getting used to sharing a brain, sue him.

An unconvinced murmur brings Gavin back to the present, Nines was apparently finished rifling through his sexual encounter memory catalogue.

The process of pursuing a sexual partner seems time-consuming and difficult. Why bother if it is not necessary? Your failures outnumber your successes.

“Way to kick a guy when he’s down.” Gavin grumbles, but he knows the question is genuine and Nines has no malicious intent behind his statement. Nines simply thinks in terms of numbers; success and failure, yes and no, black and white. Gavin sighs.

“I guess you technically don’t really need a partner, it’s just sometimes better when you’ve got one.” He explains, allowing Nines a very short glimpse of Gavin’s moments in bed or in the shower with just his hand for company. He can feel Nines consider this new information.

A much more logical approach with a significantly higher success rate.

Gavin huffs out a laugh at Nines’ rational analysis, scratching idly at his chin.

“You’re not wrong.” He says.

Show me.

“What?! No!” Gavin splutters, instinctively alarmed at the thought.

Why not?

“Because it’s fucking private, not some part of fascinating human culture to observe through a microscope!” A ridiculous point to make to someone that lives in his head and can read all his thoughts.

Gavin can practically feel the unimpressed look Nines is giving him.

Hm. It sounds like you are being a little bitch.

Gavin barks out a surprised laugh. He’s clearly been a bad influence on Nines’ vocabulary. That warm fondness bubbles up in his chest again and he runs a hand through his hair. You know what, why the fuck not? His life is already so fucking weird, this might as well happen.

“Shit, alright, why not.” He stands. “But we’re not gonna stay out here for this.” He closes the door behind him once he’s in the bedroom. Gavin does not want an untimely cat-shaped interruption. He strips down, tossing his clothes on the floor haphazardly, and lays flat on the bed. This, at least, isn’t unfamiliar territory. Nines has to be with him in the shower, and he’s merged with all his cells or whatever, so it’s not like he doesn’t know what Gavin looks like naked.

Gavin relaxes into the sheets, one arm folded behind his head and the other palm resting on his stomach. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and tries to pretend this is just like any other time he’s jerked off.

This is not very interesting.

Gavin can’t hold back his amused snort at the obviously unimpressed tone, but he feigns irritation anyways. “Yeah I’m going, I’m going.” He grumbles.

He skims a hand down his belly, palming between his legs. This isn’t going to take long, he thinks, the barest touch and he’s already filling out from the anticipation of finally getting off.

Gavin eases into it, stroking slowly over hardening flesh. Pleasure sparks low in his belly, but doesn’t want to overwhelm Nines with too much too fast. But the mental feedback Gavin is receiving seems to just be curiosity at the new sensations, and steadily increasing interest.

I think I am beginning to understand why humans choose to do this.

Gavin’s dick twitches at the low voice echoing in his head, and he laughs weakly. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He jokes.

On the next upstroke he twists his wrist, fingers tracing a vein along the underside. He bites back a small noise, forcing his breathing to stay even and trying to quell the simmering heat in his belly.

Do that again.

Gavin’s breath stutters at the abrupt demand, but he complies, hand speeding up and thumb smearing a pearl of precome over the sensitive head. His hips jump and the fingernails of his opposite hand dig into his palm.

“Nines I- ahh, uhm,” Gavin pauses to swallow hard, “I’m not gonna- ah- not gonna last long. S’been a while.” He manages to grit out. Fuck he’s gonna have a hard time keeping quiet.

His cock is getting slick in his grip, leaking steadily now. Gavin would feel embarrassed, if he thought Nines cared even a slight bit about how long he lasted. A groan escapes him on the next swipe over the tip, and Gavin brings his hand down from under his head and bites his knuckle to muffle the noises.

I want to try.

Gavin wheezes like he’s been punched, nearly sitting straight up in shock.

“You what?” He chokes out. But after the initial surprise of the request, Gavin is slammed with a wave of arousal at the thought of Nines touching him. He squirms in place a little.

I want to touch you.

Gavin’s cock throbs in his grip. He can feel the hungry curiosity from Nines filtering through his mind, and yeah, fuck, why not. He settles back into the blankets, cautiously laying his hand by his side.

“Oh-kay, yeah alright.” He breathes. “Just be careful alright? Us humans are fucking fragile.”

I would never hurt you.

Gavin feels a pinch of emotion at the sincerity in his statement, and relaxes further into the bed. He gives Nines the mental go-ahead.

A familiar sensation starts up on his skin, and Gavin looks down to see rippling darkness emerge and pool across his hips, brushing against his cock. Against his overheated skin, it’s fucking cold.

Gavin instinctively jerks his hips back and yelps.

“Shit that’s cold, Nines, fuck.” An apologetic hum echoes through his mind, and Nines pauses briefly. He resumes his path after a moment and covers Gavin’s cock entirely, deliciously hot this time and squeezes. Gavin curses.

Better?

“Yeah, fuck, how’d you do that?” He gasps, fingers gripping the sheets.

Temperature regulation is imperative for survival.

The reply is offhanded, most of Nines’ focus now on consuming Gavin’s responses to his touch.

Gavin groans, his head tilting back in the pillow. Christ it feels so good, hot and tight and slick. He moans raggedly, praise falling from his lips.

“Just like that, fuck that’s- that’s good, keep going.” Nines trills happily at the praise, spreading further up Gavin’s abdomen. Curious tendrils flick at Gavin’s nipples, and his hands fly up, gripping the pillow above his head. Nines continues to play with his chest, and Gavin arches into his touch.

The grip around his cock is scorching, twisting sweetly over the tip with every squeeze. Gavin squirms with pleasure, futilely thrusting his hips up.

More of Nines’ inky form skates greedily across his skin, drinking in every one of Gavin’s reactions. He twines up Gavin’s arms, winding around his wrists and through his fingers, pinning his arms above his head.

Black tendrils slide down the inside of his thighs, and Gavin spreads his legs without realizing, rocking his hips desperately. Nines smoothes over his body, pressing Gavin’s thighs wider. Gavin lets out a whine, feeling filthy and on display. He tugs against the hold on his arms, whining again when there’s no give.

Gavin always had a thing for being manhandled but fuck, this was- fuck.

“Oh God, fuck- ohhh don’t stop- baby don’t stop-” Gavin pleads. Nines is purring in his mind, eagerly devouring his pleasure, experiencing it with him.

Gavin keens at the feeling of something prodding at his entrance, nodding frantically and gasping when it presses inside.

It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, smooth and slick tendrils sliding into him and exploring, swelling inside him until he’s filled so perfectly. He shudders and clenches down, gasping at the fullness.

Fuck, then Nines starts moving, not thrusting but pulsing, rubbing deliciously against his inner walls. Gavin moans with every movement, drooling onto the pillow as his throaty ah ah ah’s fill the room.

Gavin’s drowning in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head. But then Nines presses up firmly, directly into his prostate, squeezing around Gavin’s cock at the same time. Gavin very nearly wails, babbling desperately.

“Oh fuck, baby I’m so close- Nines, please sweetheart, I’m gonna come- don’t stop, baby please don’t stop-” He begs, writhing in Nines’ all-encompassing hold.

“Gavin.”

His name is growled out loud, Gavin hears it right next to his ear, not in his mind, and the faint scrape of sharp teeth on his throat tips him over the edge.

Gavin‘s voice cracks on a sob, mewling Nines’ name as he comes in long, aching pulses. His toes curl as pleasure rips through him so strongly it almost hurts. He clenches down hard on the tendrils inside him, thighs trembling from the force of his orgasm.

Nines keeps moving, drawing it out until Gavin is whimpering from oversensitivity, finally relenting.

Gavin melts into the mattress when Nines releases him, completely boneless. Instead of vanishing beneath his skin, Nines settles across his body like a soothing, form-fitted blanket, petting affectionately at Gavin’s arms and shoulders.

Fuck, Gavin’s never come that hard in his life.

Was my performance satisfactory?

The smugness radiating through their mental bond was almost palpable.

“You’re fucking insufferable.” Gavin slurs, tremors still running intermittently through his muscles.

Perhaps more practice will be needed.

Gavin’s spent dick twitches pathetically at the thought. “If you want.” He mutters hoarsely. Gavin definitely wants. But his eyelids are drooping, and he nestles down into the pillow. A faint question tugs at the edge of Gavin’s mind. “Nap first, food after.” He mumbles, “And I’ll get your lava cake.” A moment’s pause.

… Can we get two lava cakes?

Gavin smiles fondly into the pillow, chuckling quietly at the timid question.

“Yeah baby, we can get two lava cakes.”

#reed900 #venom au #dbh nines #gavin reed #sira writes #fanfic #detroit become human

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 35

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 34

Next Chapter: To be posted

Thomas woke up in his bed, Alastair beside him. He tried to push away the thought that if this hadn’t gone well, he could have found Alastair’s dead body here when he woke up. But Alastair was alive, he pushed himself up and out of the bed. Thomas didn’t know how fast he had to pull those blankets off of him. The fever was gone, his memory made sense again, and those blankets were far too warm for this weather. Alastair seemed a little disoriented still, rubbing his head painfully and blinking sleep out of his eye.

‘We’re back,’ Thomas said.

‘And alive,’ Alastair added. ‘Where are Lucie and Cordelia?’

‘They came to the realm of the thief in their bodies,’ Thomas said. ‘So I assume they entered a gateway back to the equivalent of that palace in this world.’

Alastair groaned. ‘That means they could be anywhere now. They might not even be in this country.’

Thomas nodded. He didn’t know what else to say. He guessed they could call Lucie and Cordelia. But he also knew he needed to speak with Alastair about what he’d done, and Thomas had no idea how. He tried not to let it show, but he was very upset about the choice Alastair had made.

It had worked out in the end, he had to give Alastair that. They’d won and they were all alive. If Alastair hadn’t done what he did, Thomas would not have survived. His soul might have been saved, but there was no way he could have come back to life.

Part of him was grateful. Part of him was terrified. Part of him was angry. He didn’t know how to make sense of those feelings. He was terrified of what else Alastair would do when it came to Thomas’ safety. He knew Alastair was not quite alright, he knew he did not believe he was worthy of love and affection, but he had not expected Alastair to give up his soul for him. Alastair couldn’t have known it would work out in the end. He had not counted on it, nor had he told anyone of his plans. He’d done this on his own.

Alastair had found his phone and was calling Cordelia, promising to come pick her up.

‘She and Lucie are still in Scotland, fortunately, but it’s a bit of a drive. They sent me their location, I can go pick them up there.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re up for it?’ he asked.

‘Shouldn’t be a problem,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m tired, but not worse than usual. Had not expected that, but I have been asleep for longer than I have in a while.’

Alastair leaned in for a kiss, but Thomas did not reciprocate. A bit unsure, Alastair turned around and left. ‘I’ll see you when we get back.’

Thomas changed into some clean clothes, his pajamas weren’t that comfortable anymore. He guessed he could use a shower too, but that would come later. He vaguely remembered his sisters being here, and he wanted to let everyone know he was alright.

As expected, his father was pacing back and forth through the house, to everyone’s annoyance. His father needed something to do in stressful times, and lately he’d been unable to do anything.

‘You’re alive,’ his father said, pulling him into a hug. ‘You really are alive.’

‘We did it. Cordelia killed the thief, no one owes him souls anymore,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s over.’

Thomas sat down on the couch next to his mother. Unlike Alastair he was still exhausted from everything and did not feel as if he’s been sleeping at all. His mother instantly felt his forehead, Thomas suspected she did it without thinking by now.

‘You don’t seem feverish anymore,’ she said.

‘No, I’m not sick. Still a little tired, but the fever should be gone,’ Thomas said. ‘What time is it?’

‘Eight in the evening. You must be starving, Tom.’

Thomas guessed that was true. He had barely eaten anything the past days, and he had his appetite back.

‘I’ll make you something to eat,’ his mother said. ‘If you’re hungry before it’s done, you could heat up some leftover soup.’

Thomas started with the soup, eating while lost in thought. Why had Alastair done it? Could Thomas still be with him? He didn’t want them to break up, he would miss Alastair terribly, but he also wasn’t sure if he could make it work if they stayed together after this. He didn’t know what to do.

***

‘Where the hell are we?’ Cordelia asked.

She and Lucie appeared at the parking lot of an old castle somewhere. It didn’t look anything like what the thief had built, but it did appear they were still in Scotland. Cordelia hoped they weren’t too far away from the others. Alastair and Thomas weren’t with them, but Cordelia guessed that made sense. They’d gone back to their own bodies, which were still in Thomas’ bed.

‘About an hour’s drive away,’ Lucie said. ‘And I’m all out of snacks.’

‘Alastair’s calling,’ Cordelia said.

Alastair agreed to pick them up at the parking lot and Cordelia texted him her live location. Nothing to do but wait now, and she found a bench for the two of them to sit down on.

‘I still have some snacks,’ Cordelia offered. ‘I imagine you’re exhausted.’

‘I could probably sleep for a hundred years,’ Lucie said. ‘But I won’t. Waking up alone in a new century is not how I’d planned my life. Maybe I’ll sleep for a week though.’

‘We’re in our world now, not in between,’ Cordelia said. ‘Your mother slept in the land in between and time moved differently then. I think that’s why when she woke up, over a hundred years had passed.’

‘Still, I think I need a nap,’ Lucie said.

Cordelia allowed Lucie to lie down in her lap, closing her eyes. She sometimes envied Lucie’s ability to sleep everywhere. Cordelia was tired too, but didn’t know how to rest. Besides, someone had to stay awake until Alastair got here. An empty parking lot was not exactly a safe place for women at this hour. Of course, if some human tried to harm them, they wouldn’t know what they were up against.

She gently stroke Lucie’s head. She didn’t stir, she really was in a deep sleep. It was another one and a half hour until Alastair showed up. She was lucky she and Lucie hadn’t ended up in another country. That would have been problematic without a passport or money.

Cordelia felt changed, somehow. As if a piece of the darkness had traveled with her. The reaper had told her she could return to the land in between and the land of the thief whenever she wished, all of them could now. She didn’t know what else had changed. Had Alastair changed too? She wasn’t sure.

‘Thank god, you’re safe,’ Alastair said. ‘Come, let’s go back.’

‘Thank you for coming,’ Cordelia said, waking Lucie.

‘Any time,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m glad you ended up here, rather than in a different country, even if still doesn’t seem like a safe place to have waited so long.’

Cordelia nodded, she and Lucie got in the car and Alastair drove back, going a little above the speed limit, but there was no one else here.

‘How’s Thomas?’ she asked.

‘Alive,’ was all Alastair said.

‘Is he very upset with you?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I don’t know. He didn’t say much, and someone had to come pick you up. We didn’t have time to talk.’

‘Why did you do it?’ Cordelia asked.

‘You read my letter, didn’t you?’ Alastair asked, his voice betraying little emotion.

It was frustrating when he did that, Cordelia knew this could not be anywhere near the full extent of his feelings.

‘Yes. It was upsetting,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m worried about you, dâdâsh.’

‘No need for that, Layla. You killed the thief of souls, we’re safe,’ Alastair said.

Cordelia began to get frustrated. Did he really not understand why everyone was so upset about what he’d done? She knew it had worked out in the end, that he’d saved Thomas, and she was glad for that, but that didn’t mean what he’d done was right, or healthy. If he’d discussed it as a method to buy them the time they needed, Cordelia might not have liked it, but it would have been a decent plan. But that wasn’t what Alastair had done. He’d chosen to sacrifice his soul for Thomas’, and although that sounded sweet, it wasn’t what any of them would have wanted. It wasn’t what Thomas would have wanted, and to Cordelia it only showed that Alastair still did not value himself.

‘What if it happens again?’ Cordelia asked. ‘We still haven’t found Tatiana, what if she finds some other creature to deal with and comes for us again? Will you sacrifice yourself for Thomas?’

‘I would have done the same for you, Layla,’ he said quietly. ‘You know that, right?’

‘That’s the problem!’ Cordelia yelled. ‘I would not want you to sacrifice yourself for me. I never wanted that, and neither did Thomas.’

‘I only did it because I love him,’ Alastair said. ‘Because I wanted to put his safety and happiness before my own. That’s what it means to love someone, doesn’t it?’

Cordelia didn’t know how to explain what she meant. What he said wasn’t completely wrong, when you loved someone you wanted them to be happy, even if it wasn’t with you. But this wasn’t the same, was it? There was the matter of consent, of course. No one who loved you would want you to make such a sacrifice. She imagined Charles would have, or her father. Perhaps not to the extent Alastair had done, but Alastair’s love for both of them had been closely tied to sacrifice and in the end it had turned bitter because Alastair had gotten hurt over and over again and her father nor Charles had cared about him. The kind of person who would want such a sacrifice from you wasn’t someone who deserved it.

‘Love does not mean sacrifice,’ Cordelia said. ‘And right now, we’re all scared you’re going to hurt yourself.’

‘I don’t want to die, Cordelia,’ Alastair said. ‘I am not suicidal. How many more times do I have to tell you that?’

Cordelia didn’t say anything else. She didn’t know what to say, how to reach Alastair. He didn’t understand, how could she make him? Perhaps Jem would know, or Gideon. Perhaps Alastair would listen to them if he didn’t listen to her.

‘Just so you know, Thomas feels the same way,’ Cordelia said. ‘As I said, he never asked for this, and that why he’s upset.’

‘I saved him,’ Alastair said. ‘If he doesn’t want me anymore after that, it still would have been worth it. Him being upset with me is better dan him being dead.’

***

Jesse was still around, away from his mother now that she’d lost her power. He no longer knew where Tatiana had gone, or if she was still a threat. Lucie knew his soul was free now, but he was still dead, even she could not fix that.

He’d been spending time with Barbara. The dead Barbara that was, as Thomas’ sister Barbara was here too. It was all very confusing, but Lucie had helped Barbara and Eugenia meet their grandmother, and their cousin Jesse. Both had died too young, but were ready to let go now. Uncle Gabriel hadn’t been able to get much time off from work, but had come to meet his mother. It had been a long drive for the little time he had here, but he’d taken it anyway. Gabriel did not remember his mother, but had taken the chance to meet her now, and left shortly after.

Lucie was sitting outside with Jesse. She knew she’d have to say goodbye, he did not want to stay here. Nor should he. It wasn’t much of an afterlife, to stay behind as a ghost, and Jesse should get to have a proper death. That didn’t make it easier though.

‘I cannot promise that you will be alright when you leave,’ Lucie said.

‘I know,’ Jesse said. ‘You do not need to promise me. I will be alright. I have faith in what comes next.’

Lucie had no clue what would happen. The reaper had been unable to tell her, it had to be kept secret. Lucie wasn’t sure why, but guessed it would make sense once it was her time. Hopefully, that would not be anytime soon, for any of them.

‘I wish there’s more I could have done for you.’

‘You saved me from the thief, Lu,’ Jesse said. ‘You gave me a chance at a proper afterlife. There’s nothing more I could have asked for.’

‘Do you remember anything from your time there?’ Lucie asked.

‘Bits and pieces. I think you’re supposed to forget there.’

‘I didn’t forget.’

‘You’re alive,’ Jesse said. ‘You entered that place with a living body, as did Cordelia. I think Thomas remembered because he had to, and Alastair never forgot because he cannot forget. But souls who go there are meant to forget. Barbara remembers only because Alastair made her.’

‘Perhaps Alastair could help you remember too,’ Lucie said.

‘It’s not so bad, to forget,’ Jesse said. ‘I remember who I am, my life. I don’t need memories of that place.’

Lucie had to admit he had a point. Forgetting wasn’t always bad. It made her wonder, was it difficult for Alastair too, that he could never forget?

‘I understand,’ she said. ‘When will you go?’

‘No time like the present, right?’ Jesse said. ‘Barbara will come with me, we’re going together. I’d say I won’t forget you, but I do not know what will happen to my memories on the other side.’

‘That’s alright,’ Lucie said. ‘Because I will remember you. And I hope it’s good, what you find there.’

‘Goodbye, Lucie. It was an honor to know you.’

Jesse walked to Barbara. He looked so normal as he did, almost as if he were alive. Then he took his grandmother’s hand, and they both disappeared. Lucie knew she would not see them again. She knew it was for the best.

***

In the next few days, Thomas continued to avoid Alastair. Whenever he entered a room, Thomas left, and Alastair didn’t know what to do. It was alright, he told himself. Thomas was safe and it would be alright if he didn’t want Alastair anymore. It was bound to happen anyway. But Alastair still found himself longing for Thomas. His silence was more painful than he could have imagined, and Alastair didn’t know how to fix this. How could he, if Thomas wouldn’t even speak to him?

‘Just so you know, if he dumps you, Kamala and I are keeping you,’ Eugenia said. ‘I’m sure dad feels the same way.’

He’d spent time with Thomas’ sister and her girlfriend the past few days. Lucie and Cordelia were mainly together, and Alastair understood. They were recovering from what happened, and wanted to be together now that they’d finally realized they loved each other.

Barbara had returned home. Alastair liked her, but didn’t get along as easily with her as with Eugenia. It wasn’t her fault, really, Alastair just didn’t know what to talk about with her. Eugenia and Kamala were both students at the same university Alastair went to, Kamala as a medical student and Eugenia was a year ahead in sociology. She could tell him exactly what to expect.

James was still around as well, he’d spent most of his time around Thomas and Lucie. Alastair hadn’t spoken to him apart from a short apology for what happened in school. He’d apologized to at the end of the school year before he’d transferred, but wasn’t sure James remembered at all. He’d put his school days behind him. He hoped James could do, but wasn’t sure if they could ever be friends. He found Lucie easier to get along with, which Lucie claimed was because they were probably both autistic. James seemed to have accepted his apology this time at least.

‘I’m not sure that would be right,’ Alastair said. ‘I don’t think Thomas wants me around anymore.’

‘If he’s dumping you, he’s an idiot,’ Eugenia said. ‘I hope you two can work it out, but if not, you’re still our friend.’

Alastair frowned. ‘We just met.’

‘Does that matter?’ Eugenia asked.

‘I don’t really have friends,’ Alastair added. ‘I don’t know how to be someone’s friend.’

‘Even more reason to accept me and Kamala as your friends. Doesn’t look like you have many options, and you’re not getting rid of us that easily.’

‘Genie is very determined,’ Kamala added. ‘I don’t think it’s wise to try to escape us. You live in London too, right?’

‘Yes,’ Alastair said, although he was not yet sure which part of London. Jem’s offer was tempting, but could he leave his mother now that she was having a baby?

Alastair had called her every day since making it back from the thief’s realm, discussing the baby, potential names, and what he’d do after the summer. His mother had encouraged him to choose for himself, not her, and she would be fine if he moved out. Alastair had not yet made a decision.

‘Great, then we’ll have plenty of opportunities to spend time together,’ Eugenia said. ‘Kamala currently lives in a cupboard under the stairs, but I live with my parents and have the space to host us.’

Alastair frowned. ‘A cupboard?’

‘It’s not a cupboard under the stairs. But it’s small,’ Kamala said. ‘My parents disowned me, had to take what I could get.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Alastair said.

Kamala shrugged. ‘It’s fine. Without them, I can finally figure out who I am, rather than who they want me to be.’

Although he didn’t know them well yet, Alastair did like Kamala and Eugenia so far. He guessed he had no clue how to be a friend, but he was figuring it out, and they provided a decent distraction from Thomas, who still refused to speak to him. Eugenia claimed Alastair should just go talk to him, but he didn’t dare. He was scared he would be abandoned again, although this wasn’t exactly a great situation either.

After dinner, Alastair was reading on the couch, a book Kamala had recommended to him. She and Eugenia both liked to read, which was nice because if he was unable to keep a conversation going they could always discuss books they liked.

‘How have you been?’

Gideon had come to sit down next to him. The past days he’d mostly been around Thomas, which Alastair could understand. It must have been very upsetting to almost watch him die. His arm had been broken, Alastair had learnt, but Kamala’s magic had sped up the healing process considerably.

‘Eugenia and Kamala have been kind to me,’ he said.

‘Yes, it’s nice you’re getting along so well with them. Genie likes you a lot. But you haven’t spoken to Thomas at all, have you?’

‘I haven’t,’ Alastair admitted. ‘He’s been avoiding me. I knew he’d realize I wasn’t worth it eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon.’

Nor had he expected it to hurt so much, but he didn’t say that out loud.

‘Why do you believe you aren’t worth it?’ Gideon asked.

Alastair wasn’t sure what to answer. ‘He deserves someone whole, someone who’s not broken like me. I’m too broken, too difficult.’

‘You’re not too broken to be loved, Alastair,’ Gideon said. ‘Thomas is very upset about what you did. He knows he needs to talk to you, he’s been avoiding you because he doesn’t like difficult conversations.’

‘He doesn’t want me anymore,’ Alastair said. ‘But I don’t understand why he’s upset that I saved his life.’

‘You scared him,’ Gideon said. ‘You scared all of us. I knew you were hurting, but sacrificing your soul for someone… That’s not a good sign.’

‘I did what I had to do to save your son,’ Alastair said. ‘Aren’t you happy he’s alive?’

Alastair was confused about why everyone was so upset. He knew he’d made a difficult choice, and maybe he shouldn’t have done it without telling anyone, but it had worked out and without it Thomas would be dead. Didn’t they understand why he’d done it? He found it hard to believe someone else would not have done the same.

‘I am. And I am grateful for what you did for him. But you must understand that it’s not what he wanted. If you hadn’t killed the thief in time, if you’d died and he’d lived, he would have to live with that guilt. I do not think it is right to make these decisions for him in secret. It all worked out in the end, but I’m also concerned about you, and why you did it.’

‘I did it because I love him,’ Alastair said. ‘I guess he doesn’t love me like that, and that’s alright. I just wanted him to be happy.’

He tried to wipe away the tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t hide that he was crying.

‘I imagine that after everything that happened to you, you came to believe that love meant sacrifice. But I don’t think that’s a healthy way to approach relationships. Someone who loves you would not want you to sacrifice yourself for them. If it had been reversed, and Thomas had traded himself for you? Or Cordelia?’

Alastair pictured the scenario, him dying and Cordelia or Thomas making that deal. He wouldn’t want that, Gideon had a point.

‘I would have done everything in my power to stop them,’ Alastair said.

‘So you understand then, why Thomas is upset?’ Gideon asked gently.

‘It’s not the same,’ Alastair said stubbornly.

‘Why not?’

‘Because…’ Because he wasn’t worth that. Because Thomas could be happy without him, and Alastair was just broken. Because he was awful and bitter and did not deserve to be saved.

‘Because you believe you’re worth less than him,’ Gideon finished for him. ‘I know you do not love yourself very much. I think I understand why you did it, and I cannot blame you, but if you want to talk it out with Thomas you need to understand why he’s so upset.’

‘He doesn’t want me,’ Alastair said.

‘You won’t know that unless you talk. I don’t know what Thomas wants, but you should not leave anything unsaid between you two. You owe that to each other, and yourselves.’

Alastair guessed Gideon was right. He did understand why Thomas was upset, but Alastair could not bring himself to regret it. Not when he’d saved Thomas, not when it had all worked out.

Alastair found Thomas at the Herondale manor. He stood up from the couch as soon as he noticed Alastair, about to leave.

‘Do you want to take a walk?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas didn’t say anything.

‘I won’t go far,’ Alastair clarified. ‘I guess I just wanted to be outside.’

‘You can do that without me,’ Thomas said, avoiding his gaze.

‘I also thought we should talk,’ Alastair added.

‘Another time?’ Thomas asked.

‘If you need to, but I think you’ll postpone this indefinitely,’ Alastair said. ‘It’s been difficult for me, the way you avoided me.’

Thomas nodded. ‘You’re right. No time like the present, I guess.’

It was a warm evening, the sun was disappearing behind the trees, and a soft breeze caressed his cheeks. The kind of weather Lucie would use for a romantic scene, he guessed. Alastair hoped it worked out for him as well.

‘I missed you,’ Alastair said softly.

‘Me too. I missed you, I mean. Not myself. That wouldn’t even make sense.’

Thomas was rambling, and Alastair could tell he dreaded this conversation. Alastair did too. It was like a weight pressing on his stomach, Alastair felt he might throw up.

‘I understand why you’re upset.’

Thomas turned to face him, and took his hand. ‘Promise me you’ll never do something like that again.’

Alastair hesitated. ‘If I am to make such a promise, I would at least need you to be more specific.’

Thomas looked away and clenched his fist.‘You’re not taking me seriously.’

‘No, I am. But I don’t understand what you want me to promise. That I will never hurt myself? I do not think I can make such a promise. I wish I could, but I do not know what the future will hold. I might get worse. I do not want to make a promise unless I know I can keep it.’

Thomas hesitated. ‘No, I guess I cannot ask that. As much as I want you to feel better, it’s not something I can demand of you. But if we’re going to make this work, I do need you to promise me one thing. Promise me you will not go behind my back again. Perhaps, if you’d discussed what you were planning, I could have stopped you. Or perhaps we could have worked it into a plan we could all agree with to improve our odds of winning. I cannot deny that you saved me, that I would have died if you hadn’t done what you did. But I do not ever want you to keep your plans to save me hidden from me, nor do I want you to give up your life, or soul, for me.’

‘I guess I can promise that,’ Alastair said. ‘I should not have gone behind everyone’s back, you’re right. But I cannot regret what I’ve done.’

‘I understand and I can live with that,’ Thomas said. ‘Just don’t do it again.’

‘I’m hoping there won’t be a reason to,’ Alastair said. ‘But I promise I won’t keep you in the dark about my plans to save or protect you.’

‘I’m sorry I avoided you,’ Thomas said. ‘I knew we needed to have this conversation, and I didn’t know how. I thought I could just postpone it until I was ready, but it wasn’t going to get any better.’

‘You did a pretty good job,’ Alastair said. ‘Although it helped that your father talked to me.’

‘He’s worried too, isn’t he?’

‘It’s odd, to have people concerned about me,’ Alastair admitted.

‘You’re just not used to it,’ Thomas said. ‘But my parents are experts at being concerned about people, so you might need to adapt.’

‘It’s nice,’ Alastair said.

He used to hate the feeling, but lately not anymore. It felt so good to be allowed to let go, to break down and know there would be someone to help him pick up the pieces. He’d always wanted to be strong, but he’d been so tired of it lately.

‘It can be too much,’ Thomas said. ‘But that’s better than people not caring at all.’

‘Can I kiss you?’ Alastair asked shily.

‘Please.’

Alastair grabbed hold of Thomas’ shoulders, standing on his tip toes to be able to reach his lips. Having a tall boyfriend had its downsides too, but Thomas leaned down a little and Alastair could kiss him.

Their lips met, and Alastair realized he’d been starved for this, even if it had only been a few days since they’d kissed. Thomas took control off the kiss, a bit more experienced by now, and Alastair loved it. He wanted to let Thomas drown him in affection. Thomas put his arms around him, pressing him closer. Their bodies fit together nicely, Alastair could feel his muscles, his chest, strong arms enveloping him and keeping him safe.

‘I forgive you,’ Thomas said. ‘I don’t like what you did, but it’s alright. I know you don’t believe you’re worth it, but you are and I hope one day you’ll see that too. Let’s give this another try.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #the last hours #fanfiction #tlh

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

A Place to Belong Chapter 45: A Father’s Love

Chapter 44

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Claire swore she had never been happier in all her life.

Jamie had been antsy all through breakfast, despite Claire’s endless assuring squeezes of his hand under the table. She thought he was going to explode when Brianna set her spoon down and said:

“Ready, Da?”

It had amazed Jamie to see how confident she was, how unabashed, unafraid.

“Ready, lass.”

Now, Claire stood outside the corral, arms crossed atop the fence, leaning limply on the worn wood.

“D’ye ken how to brush a horse, Brianna?”

“ ’Course I do.” Brianna stuck her nose up at him quite adorably.

“Aye, forgive me fer asking such a foolish thing.” This at first made Claire nervous, but the way Jamie smiled after he said it, the way Brianna giggled, convinced her that they were only teasing one another.

So natural together.

“Can ye show me, then?”

Brianna nodded curtly, almost smugly, and brushed Alastair precisely the way she always did.

“See?” she said pointedly, her little nose in the air again.

Claire shook her head at her cheekiness. Perhaps her daughter took after her just a bit too much.

“Aye, that’s braw, a chiusle,” Jamie said gently. “Short wee flicks; who taught ye that?”

“Fergus. Said he learned from you.”

That took his breath away; a long lost memory of showing his son how to properly care for a horse long before he ever even learned to ride. “Aye. I suppose he did.”

Jamie took his own bit of hay and began brushing Alastair’s other side.

“Fergus,” Jamie continued. “He isna cross wi’ me fer taking his place wi’ ye in the corral?”

She shook her head, her eyes still fixed on Alastair’s coat.

“That’s good. I wouldna want to upset him, or you.” Brianna didn’t respond. “I ken ye’re…used to things being a certain way. I’m very grateful that ye allowed me to spend this time wi’ ye.”

Brianna smiled and looked up at him. “He likes you.”

“Does he, now?” Jamie moved in front of the beast, narrowing his eyes slightly, pretending to size him up.

“Aye,” Brianna confirmed with a little giggle. “He likes when ye do this. I’ll show you.”

She nestled herself right beside Jamie and reached a hand up to cup right beneath Alastair’s snout, then ran three fingers gently up and down between his eyes.

“Ye have to use three,” she said very seriously. “Two doesna feel as good, and four would make your fingers get too close to his eyes, and he doesn’t like that.” Brianna glanced down at his hands. “Except your fingers are giant…so maybe you should use two fingers.”

Jamie laughed out loud. “D’ye no’ ken well enough now that I’m no’ a giant?”

She giggled. “ ’Course. But ye still are giant.” She gently removed her hands from Alastair’s snout, but not before rising up onto her toes and pressing a wee kiss right on his nose. The sight of it warmed Jamie’s heart to its very core.

She’s fiery, aye, bold, brash…but so, very tender as well.

Like her mother.

“Your turn,” Brianna said, cocking her head to Alastair.

Jamie nodded and carefully placed his hands exactly where she had, taking care to use two of his giant fingers.

“Like this?”

“Aye.” Brianna beamed in approval.

“Ye’re a very clever lass, Brianna,” Jamie said tenderly, stroking Alastair. “Very caring and considerate. Ye took special care to learn exactly what yer horse likes and doesna like.”

Brianna’s grin grew ever wider, and Claire’s heart was fit to burst.

“He trusts me,” Brianna said proudly, rocking on her heels.

“Aye, I can see that. He’s a lucky horse.”

“He trusts you, too, now.”

“Then I am a lucky man.” Jamie removed his hands from Alastair’s snout.

“Kiss his nose!” Brianna said urgently, as if the matter were serious as death.

“Oh, aye,” Jamie said sheepishly. “Canna forget that.”

Claire had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the sight of Jamie bending slightly and kissing a horse’s nose. He was putty in their daughter’s hands.

“Alright then, lass. Let’s see how ye ride.”

Brianna bit her lip with excitement.

“D’ye need help mounting?”

“Only a little,” she insisted. “Just can’t reach her neck yet. So I need a hand.” She put her foot in the stirrup and looked up at him. “But you don't need to hold me. Fergus hasn’t done that since I was seven.”

Jamie chuckled softly; to hear her talk you’d think it had been quite a while since she was seven, and not a mere few months ago.

“Alright then, lass.” He reached his hand out to her. “Up ye get.”

Jamie was quite impressed to see the way she heaved herself over, despite how she gave several little bounces before fully committing to it. How many times, he wondered, had she attempted this with Fergus, only for her to fall short and collapse into the lad?

“See?”

“Braw, Brianna. Very braw, Indeed.”

She smiled smugly again. She took hold of the reins.

“You should take hold of the rope before Mummy starts shouting,” Brianna said.

Jamie threw his head back for a loud laugh at Claire’s expense, and Claire rolled her eyes, though she could not help her own laughter.

“Mummy shouts, does she?”

“Oh, aye,” Brianna said gravely, nodding, looking very much like her auntie. “If Fergus isna holding on for just a little tiny bit she has a conniption.”

Jamie laughed even harder at that, never imagining an eight-year-old to come up with such a word.

“Am I hearing things, Brianna, or did you just accuse me of having conniptions?” Claire called indignantly from behind the fence.

“But it’s true, Mummy! ‘Fergus!��” Brianna’s speech immediately melted into Claire’s posh English. “‘Take hold of the rope this instant! Fergus! Don’t you dare let her go!’”

Jamie’s eyes were leaking with tears of laughter.

“You are both in for it when you get out here!” Claire called, though, again, she was powerless to stop her own fit of laughter. Brianna’s impersonation really was quite spot on.

“Then we’ll stay in forever!” Brianna declared, sticking that nose up again. “We’ll eat grass and hay like the horses! Won’t we, Da?”

Jamie had to wait a few more moments before his laughter subsided enough to answer. “Aye, lass. We’ll be just fine out here. But I’ll only stay if ye brush my hair wi’ the hay the way ye do Alastair.”

Brianna laughed out loud.

“You are insufferable! Both of you!” Claire called.

“Why thank you.” Jamie gave a low bow, causing Brianna to laugh all the harder. “Alright then, a nighean.” Jamie finally took hold of the rope. “Off we go?”

Brianna clicked her tongue and gave the beast a light squeeze with her legs, like an expert wee jockey. Jamie didn’t know what he expected exactly, but he hadn’t expected her to be so natural. Claire had told him the lass loved her horse, but he had no idea how deeply this love ran for her. As he held the rope and led her around the corral, watched her steer the reins, listened to her gentle praise of the creature, he could not help the tears in his eyes, nor the hard lump in his throat.

It’s almost as if I taught her myself.

Claire, too, was nearly beside herself with emotion. This image, her daughter’s father smiling up at her, glowing with pride, doing something together that they both loved so deeply, it was more than anything she ever dared hope for. It was indescribable, overwhelming; the fierceness with which she loved them both.

“Yer Ma said ye were a fine rider, Brianna. But she didna tell me ye were a natural,” Jamie said, the pride in his voice uncontainable. “Reminds me of myself as a wee lad.”

“Mummy says I get it from you,” she said lightly, grin wide as ever.

“Does she now?”

“Aye.” Brianna nodded, curls bobbing. “She says I get a lot from you.”

“Aye, my thick skull being one,” Jamie said, recalling their first encounter.

She giggled. “Aye.”

“What else does she say ye get from me?” His voice was suddenly light, lilting, entranced at the idea of his child taking after him.

“My eyes and hair, o’ course,” she said, then her nose wrinkled slightly. “My temper.”

Jamie laughed. “Aye, s’pose that’s so. Though I’d wager yer mam had something to do wi’ that as well.”

“That’s what Auntie Jenny says.” Brianna nodded in serious agreement, causing Jamie’s head to toss back with laughter again. “Once, I heard Mummy say to Auntie Jenny: ‘She’s far too good at lying.’” Her posh English came back, much to Jamie’s delight. “And then Auntie Jenny said, ‘Oh, aye, that she gets from her father.’” She thickened the Scot in her voice, then, imitating Jenny’s cadence quite impressively.

Jamie laughed again. “That’s true, indeed. Yer mam canna lie to save her own hide. I always say she’s got a glass face. Ken what I mean?”

“Aye.” Brianna nodded, smirking.

“Yer a sneaky wee thing as well, then? Listening to yer Auntie and Mam talking?” She blushed a bit at that, but her mischievous wee smirk didn’t go anywhere. “Ye get that from me as well,” he whispered, leaning in.

She giggled. “I’m always scaring Auntie wi’out meaning to. ‘Ye scairt the bowels out of me!’”

“Aye! I used to get that a lot when we were bairns.” Jamie’s cheeks were sore from smiling. “Yer also quite braw at switching between tongues. Dinna get that from me or yer mam, I should think. That’s a trait that’s special fer Brianna.”

She beamed at that, sticking her chin up proudly. “Aye. Mummy says I sound more Scot when I’m excited or angry. But I can sound whatever way I want to,” she said smugly. “When the Redcoats come I talk full Scot so they dinna find out I’m half-English. Works every time.”

Brianna’s tone was light and playful, but Jamie couldn’t help it when his face darkened with that knowledge. How often, he wondered, did Brianna have to hide who she was? Did they stuff Claire in the priest hole? Or did she manage to get away without speaking every time they came by?

Jamie cleared his throat, afraid of putting her off with his silence. “That’s very clever, lass.”

“It was Mummy and Auntie’s idea. When they come, we pretend that Auntie is my Mummy and that Mummy is my Auntie. Though I canna say ‘Mummy,’ have to say ‘Ma’. Too English, ye ken.”

Jamie nodded hesitantly. “Does it happen often?”

“Not as much as it used to.”

“Ye’re a brave wee thing, Brianna.”

“Och, it isn’t scary,” she assured him. “It’s fun pretending that Kitty’s my real sister and no’ just my cousin.” She smiled warmly.

Jamie’s heart felt heavy. To Brianna, it was a game, a fun source of entertainment: outsmarting the British. She got to do her playacting and pretend that her very best friend was her sister. She had no idea what the dire consequences would be if the charade was discovered. He hadn’t even asked Claire, or Jenny and Ian for that matter, how they’d fared in terms of Redcoat harassment while he was gone. He hadn’t at all considered the implication of Claire, clearly English as soon as she opened her mouth, raising a child so thoroughly resembling Red Jamie. Jenny’s idea to pretend she was hers was a braw one indeed.

“Ye get along well wi’ Kitty, then?” Jamie said lightly, eager to change the subject.

“Oh, aye. She’s my very best friend since the day I was born. We fight sometimes, but Mummy and Auntie say it’s because we’re both stubborn as mules.”

He chuckled. “Aye, the two of ye seem to share the thick-skull trait.”

She nodded. “Maggie is my best friend, too. But it’s different than wi’ Kitty. Maggie doesn’t like horses like we do, and she doesn’t like to run around or shout. She’s very quiet.”

“Nothing wrong wi’ that.”

“I know,” Brianna assured him. “Playing with Maggie is just different than playing with Kitty, that’s all. We paint instead of running and shouting.”

“Aye, that makes sense to me.”

“Maggie helps Mummy in the garden,” she went on. “ ’Course I do, too, but Maggie really loves it. Says she wants to be a healer like Mummy when she grows up.”

Jamie’s heart warmed at the knowledge that Claire was passing her gift down to his own kin, her bonny wee niece. “And what about you, Brianna? What do you wanna be when ye grow up?”

Her face screwed up, her nose wrinkling again. “I dinna want to grow up, Da.”

He laughed out loud again. “Aye, that’s fine, lass. I dinna want ye to grow up just yet either.”

——

The day continued as such, and eventually Claire ended up sitting on the wooden fence, leaning on her hands, knocking herself off balance every time either Brianna or Jamie had her tossing her head back. At one point, Fergus appeared behind her and deliberately spooked her, almost causing herself to jerk forward and fall on her face. Brianna insisted that Fergus join them in the corral, so he did, walking alongside Jamie, holding onto Alastair’s bit to keep pace as Jamie led with the rope. Claire could not hear what Jamie and Fergus were saying, but there was a great deal of laughter, from them and Brianna as well, and it warmed her from head to toe.

They haven’t skipped a beat.

My boys.

“Mummy!” Brianna called, jolting her out of her blissful reverie. “I want to go fast! All around! May I?”

Claire shielded her face from the sun with her hand. “Alright,” she called back. “Would you like to ride with Fergus? Or me?”

“Neither!” she cried. “I want tae ride wi’ Da!”

Claire could literally see the wind being knocked out of Jamie. She blinked in shock for a moment; not shock that Brianna would want to ride with him, but purely because Claire was not at all used to Jamie being included in the mix. Even as he stood right there in front of her, it hadn’t even been a thought in Claire’s mind that Jamie would participate in something that had become somewhat ritualistic for this family.

Our family. Mine and his.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Alright, darling. Let Da get you down, and then we’ll put Alastair away and get everyone else saddled up.”

Claire could hear Brianna from where she sat, insisting that she did not need help dismounting, and she chuckled to herself. Jamie stood back and let her dismount, instinctually putting his hands out to catch her when she wavered on the ground. She didn’t miss a beat, however, standing up tall and brushing his hands away. Claire shook her head, laughing, and she heard Jamie and Fergus laugh as well.

Brianna led Alastair back to his stall herself and, with a bit of help, she removed his saddle and bridle herself as well. Jamie ruffled her hair proudly, beaming down at her. It was such a simple gesture, so natural for a father to do to his child. And yet it meant more than the world to Claire, and to Jamie as well. She could tell.

“Aye, she’s spirited,” Jamie said as he and Claire were saddling their horses, and Brianna helped Fergus with his. “Like ye said. I kent it well from this past week, but tae see her out here…” He shook his head, his grin wider than ever. “She reminds me of myself as a wee lad.”

Claire chuckled. “That’s a terrifying thought.”

“Och.” Jamie rolled his eyes, but his grin did not fade. He finished saddling his horse, and he leaned on the leather with his elbows. “She wants to ride wi’ me, Claire.”

Claire looked up, gazing at him over her horse with eyes aglow with adoration. “Of course she does.”

Jamie’s eyes glistened, and Claire was overcome with the desire to kiss him, unfortunately unable to reach him over two horses.

“You’re slow!” Brianna cried. “Fergus and I are done already.”

Claire and Jamie snapped out of their longing gazes and whipped around. “Aye, slow indeed. If ye’re sae clever, get o’er here and help us, aye?”

Brianna bounded over, helping with the finishing touches of the bridles and saddles.

“Do you have the rope, Fergus?” Claire asked.

“Aye, it was with my other things,” he confirmed, holding it up.

“What’s that for?” Jamie asked, leading his horse out of his stall.

“For you. And Brianna,” Claire said. “It goes around both of you so she doesn’t fall off the horse if a seizure comes unexpectedly.”

“Which it never has,” Brianna said with slightly more attitude than Claire appreciated.

“I know that, Brianna Ellen,” Claire said with the smallest hint of a threat. “It’s just in case. You know that.”

With one final look, Brianna shrank, nodding. “Yes, Mummy.”

“And don’t try to pull a fast one on Da,” Claire went on as the four of them emerged outside from the stables. “He knows all the rules and all the precautions.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

Claire exhaled lightly with a smile. “Alright. Here we go, love.” She crouched down to kiss Brianna’s head. “Have fun with Da.”

Brianna smiled, squinting in the sun. “I will.”

Claire mounted her horse, as did Fergus. Brianna looked up at Jamie, shielding her eyes with her hand.

“I do need your help mounting this time,” she said. “Your horse is giant. Like you.”

Jamie laughed out loud, then crouched down to poke her nose. “I’d look rather foolish on a wee beast like Alastair, would I no’?”

“More than rather,” she said, giggling.

“Alright. Up we go.” Jamie scooped her up under her arms, and Claire did not miss how he lingered with her there. She knew the feeling, the overwhelming knowledge that you alone were holding your child, you alone were their safety. He deposited Brianna on the saddle, then swung himself on.

Jamie felt the air blown out of his lungs as Brianna inched back, pressing her entire back against Jamie’s chest.

“Make sure you tie it tight,” Claire said as Jamie began winding the rope around them both. “Stop the horse immediately if she slumps over. You know what to do.”

“Aye,” Jamie said, finishing off the knot. “I’ve...I’ve got her.” He placed a protective, loving hand on the top of her head, pulling her tighter against him with the other. Claire smiled sweetly at him.

I’ve got ye, lass. Now and forever.

“I get to hold the reins, you know,” Brianna said.

Jamie chuckled. “Aye, lass. I know.”

She nodded curtly, taking the reins in her hands, and Jamie willed his fingers to stop trembling as they closed around her tiny wrists.

“Ready, lass?” he whispered into her ear, and her enthusiastic nod had her curls tickling his face.

“One...two...three…” Brianna said, anticipation building in her voice. “Go!”

In perfect tandem, Jamie and Brianna snapped the reins, and Jamie squeezed the horse’s torso with his legs, and they were off.

Jamie was in awe. If Brianna was happy on Alastair in the corral, she was alive now.

She hunched over as much as the restraint of the rope would allow, and Jamie followed, crouching as much as he could without crushing her. She really was excellent with the reins, even at this speed, and Jamie hardly had to intervene. Her hair was free and wild, obstructing his vision more than was probably safe, and he made a note to plait her hair next time. After a while, she was whooping with joy, positively laughing her head off, and Jamie could not help but join her.

“It’s like flying!” she cried over the pounding of hooves and rushing of wind. “Aye, Da?”

“Aye, lass!” he called back, his stomach flipping with joy. “Indeed i’tis!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fergus and Claire occasionally blur into his field of view, but he could hardly see anything but the fiery tendrils dancing in front of his eyes, could hardly process anything over the whooping laughter of his daughter.

His heart physically ached with how deeply he loved her.

Her joy was putting a light inside of him that he did not think existed, was bringing to life something that he had thought long gone. He’d expressed to Claire that he did not think he could connect with children anymore, that his spirit had been too broken beyond repair.

But Brianna was putting his spirit back together, and she wasn’t even trying. All she had to do was squint up at him with that gap-toothed smile, or shake her head so that her curls bounced, or cry out with joy on her horse.

She was making him whole again.

My beautiful, sweet, cheeky, perfect lass. My flesh and blood. My daughter.

----

And that's a wrap on this one! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and Happy New Year as well! All my love! Stay tuned for a sequel to this story sometime in the new year!<3

65 notes · View notes

bitchin-beskar · 4 years

Text

of all the stupid, reckless things...

Rating: T (minor violence, mentions of throwing up, some kissing)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Did I stay up to watch Episode 9 of the Mandalorian on the day it released? Yes. Did I proceed to write this fic after watching Episode 9 twice in a row? Also yes. I saw this scene and immediately a fic idea showed itself to me as if in a vision. So, here it is, written less than 24 hours after season 2 premiered!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment! I love the feedback!

PLEASE BE WARNED. THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 9 OF THE MANDALORIAN. IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN 2x01 DO NOT READ (unless you’re into spoilers and stuff)

“What are you gonna do?”

Din looks over at Vanth. “I don’t know, but wish me luck.” Activating Vanth’s jet pack, he sends him away. He turns to you. “Go! Protect the kid!”

Din shouts his last command at you before taking the detonator and standing right in the path of the krayt dragon. You’re stunned, frozen in place for a moment before you manage to get your limbs moving, sprinting towards the canvas bag that holds the Child.

Your blaster is shaking in your grasp, not from fear of the dragon, but out of worry for Din. He can get... reckless, when it comes to keeping both you and the kid safe, and you’re terrified this is another one of those moments when Din forgets he’s not actually made of beskar.

You hear the people from Mos Pelgo gasp, and you whirl around, just in time to see the dragon lunge forward, jaw opened wide to swallow both the bomb-laden bantha and your Mandalorian whole.

“MANDO!”

Your scream echoes, bouncing off the huge rock formation in front of you. You immediately try to rush forward, desperately diving towards the shifting sand where the krayt dragon and Din disappeared, when strong arms wrap around you to keep you back.

You struggle, clawing at your captor, but it’s no use. The grip is stronger than beskar, and you sink to your knees, your mouth open in a silent scream.

The others, Tuskens and residents of Mos Pelgo alike are staring at you, but you couldn’t care less. Faintly, you can hear the Child whimpering, and it breaks through the fog that clouds your mind. You start to push against Vanth again, but this time trying to get to the baby who’s about to have a full-on meltdown.

He lets you go, and you stagger over on unsteady feet, picking up the small, whimpering child. He immediately latches on to the fabric of your shirt, burying his face as his tiny body begins to shake.

Sinking to your knees, you cradle the Child, tears of your own rolling down your cheeks. There’s silence all around you, and it only makes you want to cry harder.

Beneath your knees, the ground begins to rumble. You want to scream and cry, to yell about how it isn’t fair that the stupid dragon already ate Din, and it didn’t even have the decency to die. A shadow falls over you, and you look up to see Vanth standing in front of you, guarding you, although you’re sure the both of you know there’s little either of you can do if the dragon decides it wants to eat either of you next.

Your vision is blurred from tears as you watch the krayt dragon spring from the sand, howling in... wait, was it in pain? You can see a faint blue glow coming from the mouth of the beast, but before you can even begin to think about what that means, the dragon lets out a scream, electricity illuminating the figure that bursts forth from the dragon’s mouth.

Your jaw drops as you realize it’s Din, his jet pack propelling him up and away from the creature, right before a giant explosion tears apart the middle of the dragon. It’s death cry is haunting, but you only have eyes for the beskar-clad Mandalorian that’s shakily landing in front of you, green fluids covering him from head to toe.

You can hear the people around you beginning to rush forward towards the now-dead krayt dragon, Vanth included, but you only have eyes for Din. The Child coos and reaches for him, and you shakily hold him out for Din to grab.

They have a quiet moment, and you take the time to collect yourself, wiping tears from your cheeks and calming your racing heartbeat. He’s here, in front of you. Din’s safe, he’s not dead in the belly of a krayt, he’s alive, and whole, and here.

Din turns to set the Child back down in his little canvas bag, but before he can turn to you, Vanth is calling for him. Din pauses, his helmet turned toward you, but you shake your head.

“Go. I’m fine. See what our friends need.”

Din hesitates for another moment before nodding sharply, turning and walking towards the group of people surrounding the carcass.

Your breath wooshes out of your lungs, and you collapse inelegantly onto the hot sand. You put your head down, elbows balanced on your knees as you try to stave off the intense feelings of panic that have been struggling to surface since you saw Din get swallowed.

You sit there for a long time, and before you realize it, it’s started to get dark. The others have set up tents and campfires to ward off the cold, and you belatedly realize you’re shivering. You’re in the middle of trying to work up the energy to stand when a shadow falls over you.

Looking up, you see Din, holding his hand out. You take it gratefully, allowing the Mandalorian to practically lift you off your feet with the speed and power he pulls you up with. Your hand lands on his cuirass for balance, and for a moment, the two of you stand there in silence, your face so close to Din’s visor that for a moment, you think you see him blink.

One of the Tuskens calls out to Din, and with a hand on the small of your back, he leads you over to the nearest campfire. There’s a spot for the two of you, and you sit once more on the sand.

Din engages in conversation with the Tusken on his right, but he keeps his hand placed on the ground behind you, his arm resting ever so slightly against your back. You stare at the flames, almost in a trance, your mind still struggling to compartmentalize the absolutely insane range of emotions you’ve experienced in the last few hours.

One of the Tuskens from another campfire walks over with some bowls of food. You’re offered meat, and you’re pretty sure it’s dead krayt dragon. You stare unblinking at the bowl for a moment before the sudden urge to throw up overcomes you.

Shaking your head, you stutter an apology before you’re on your feet, running out of the camp, behind one of the far tents, collapsing to your knees and dry heaving. Earlier, you’d been kicking yourself for not eating, but now, you’re grateful, because there’s nothing in your system to throw up.

When your stomach decides to stop rebelling, you moan quietly and slump over, your entire body trembling slight from the cold and from the force of your heaving.

A warm hand on your back startles you, and you weakly lift your head to see Din crouched next to you, his helmet on the sand next to him, dark brown eyes staring at you in concern.

Neither of you say anything, the silence hanging between the two of you thick and uncomfortable. It’s clear Din doesn’t know what to say, and you’re not exactly sure either. As you study his features, a small part of your mind decides to remind you that you almost lost him earlier, and your next action is less of a decision and more of a reflex.

Reaching out, you place your hands on Din’s cheeks, pulling him to you and kissing him desperately.

He’s startled, and flails a little bit to try and regain his balance, but he quickly gets with the program, kissing you back with just as much desperation. His hand is still resting on your back, the other planted in the sand to keep the both of you upright.

His lips fit perfectly against yours, and if it were any other time, you’d know exactly what would come next.

But it’s not any other time, it’s right now, and Din almost died today, and that panicked thought propels you forward, pushing Din back and quickly straddling his lap, fingers tangling in his hair as you reassure yourself that he’s still alive and with you.

You thank the Maker that Din understands, his arm sliding around your waist to keep you steady, letting you plunder his mouth as you reaffirm the fact that he’s in front of you, between your thighs, not being digested in the gastrointestinal system of a krayt dragon.

Din lets you control the kiss for a little bit, knowing how much you need this before slowly starting to take that control back. His grip on you becomes firmer, more secure, and his kisses become more demanding. Your panicked thoughts have calmed enough that you allow him to lead, letting him reassure himself that you’re still safe, alive, and well.

When the two of you finally part, you don’t go far, pressing your face into the fabric bunched at Din’s neck, letting him stroke your hair, breathing deeply as his scent calms you further.

“Are you alright, cyar’ika?”

Oh Maker, you want to cry.

“Am I alright? Din, you’re the one who was eaten by a dragon! I should be asking you that.”

Din sighs. “I’m fine, I promise.” He shifts, pulling back slightly so that he can get you to look at him. “But sweetheart, you’re scaring me. You’re pale and shaking, you haven’t eaten.” He sighs again. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you alright?”

A watery chuckle escapes your throat, tears filling your eyes for the second or third time in as many hours. “No, I’m not fine Din. I thought you died.” A shudder runs through your body at the word. “The–The panic that I felt? The absolute terror when I saw that stupid dragon swallow you whole, I–”

You stop, forcing yourself to look Din in the eyes. “Of all the stupid, reckless things you’ve done Din Djarin, that one is at the top of the list.” You try to make your voice stern, but it’s shaking a little too much to manage that.

Din’s eyes soften as he stares at you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I put you through that.” His fingers trail over your cheek, wiping away some of the tears. “You have to know, I’d do it again a thousand times to keep you and the Child safe.”

Your bottom lip trembles, and you nod before pressing your lips against Din’s again. As you kiss Din again and again, sitting on the sandy ground behind a Tusken tent in the Tatooine twilight, you thank whatever gods or deities might exist that your stupid, reckless Mandalorian is still here with you.

Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @perropascal, @mxndoscyarika, @hayley-the-comet, @phoenixhalliwell, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any future works!

#fics #no use of y/n #reader #reader fic #writing #din djarin #the mandalorian #the Mandalorian spoilers #din x reader #violence #some kissing #mentions of death #MAJOR SPOILERS #do not read if you haven’t seen episode 9

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shinebrite97 · 3 years

Text

Read part 4 here

"I accept."

The exact opposite of what she came here to say. But his expression gave away his response before he could say it.

The tips of his cheeks, right below his golden eyes, all the way to the top of his ears were burning red.

What had once been a frown, slowly lifted, turning up and up, until his white teeth shone right through his parted lips. His face seemed to contort, cheeks puffing, lips puckering, eyes squinting, building up until he burst.

"Really? You will? Oh thank you so much Yuri! I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. There are no words in any of the three realms that will ever explain how grateful I am to you!"

"Lord-"

"Oh please Yuri, forgo the title just this once!"

"Diavolo…" she said.

"Yes, my dear?" He asked.

"I'm placing all my trust in you, that this plan will work." She said. "I'm ready to work hard, and I hope that I live up to your expectations."

"I'm sure you will." He replied.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As per Lord Diavolo's orders, Yuri was excused from class for the test of the day, he even went as far as to inform Lucifer himself.

Yuri wasn't sure what she expected with Diavolo called him into the council room. But he placed a hand on the center of her back and stated that he was taking her out of class for the day. She was even more shocked when Diavolo added that she'd be spending the night at his castle.

His face was unreadable, the kind of expression she saw so rarely that chilled her more than his anger. But he bowed his head, quietly agreeing to the arrangement and asked Yuri if there was anything she'd like brought over.

He promised that Mammon would deliver her an overnight bag and they would see her the following night.

And while she couldn't hear what he said, she found it odd that he was mumbling on his way out.

As Diavolo led her away from the academy and walked with her through town, she noticed him fighting ever so slightly. His hand seemed to gravitate toward her, to her arm, to her back, but then he would pull it back to his side, after the fourth time she had caught slight movement in the corner of her vision, she stopped walking.

"Is something wrong, Yuri?" He asked.

"May I?" She asked, slowly stepping closer. She offered her hand first, carefully pulling his sleeve until he relaxed his arm, holding out a few inches from his side, just enough that she could wrap her arm around his. Bringing his hand up closer to his chest so that her hand held his bicep, she brought her other hand to his sleeve, holding on and taking the first step forward.

"Yuri...what are you…?"

"I'm sorry…" she replied, immediately pulling her hand away.

His quick reflexes caught her, keeping her hand locked in the hinge of his elbow.

"I have no problem with it." He replied. "But...are you okay with-?"

"Yes," she giggled. "In fact...I like it. You feel warm and it's getting a bit windy out here."

"Then allow me." He pulled her closer to his side. Holding her hands in his one free hand, and leading her up the hill back to his castle.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"So I told Simeon...if you're going to let him prepare dinner for your household… dare him to use canned Boarback! There's no way Solomon could mess that up!" Yuri tossed her head back as she laughed.

"Then what happened?" She asked.

"Apparently he wanted to add "his own personal flair" instead of just heating it from the can, and ended up using three cups of powdered sugar instead of flour."

"Oh no!" She shrieked.

"Simeon said that Luke seemed to like it, only because it was so sweet. He said that they might even be able to trick Lucifer and his brothers into eating it...so long as they don't say who made it."

"That is so funny!"

"Well, here we are, my dear." Diavolo said. Yuri was surprised when he didn't reach into his pocket for a key, and even more surprised when the door opened, but seeing Barbatos bow in the entryway made sense.

"Welcome home, young master." He paused halfway to standing upright, the rest of his graceful motion was stuttered and hesitant.

"Yuri..." He said.

"Hey Barbatos." She said, throwing her hand up in an awkward wave.

"Is she aware, Milord?" He asked in a low voice.

"Yes, and she agreed." Diavolo replied.

"Excellent." He smiled. "Please come inside. I will prepare a tea tray at once."

"We will take it in my underground study."

"Very well, Milord."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yuri had no idea what to expect with an underground study. She never really knew what to expect with anything when it came to these particular demons.

Hell was classier than she thought, but it was still hell.

Lucifer had high standards when it came to his home, but he was still a demon.

In this case, the underground tunnels were just as they sounded. Dank, but not dusty. Stone walls caught the sounds of their footsteps and echoed them back, adding to the ambience of some far off drips and deep reverbs of some growling creature.

"Don't mind that, Yuri. Diavolo said. "Tunnel systems lead all throughout the Devildom, and there is a special one for Cerberus."

"Okay..." she muttered.

She wasn't sure who took the other's hand first, or when she had migrated closer to his side, but once he stopped walking and she bodily fell against him; he chuckled, catching her easily and producing a key from the folds of his uniform robe.

"We're going to start with my family tree," he said. "Then we can move on to our grimoire."

A demon's grimoire is his livelihood. Yuri remembered hearing it straight from Lucifer, when Luke had stumbled across his tomes by accident.

I'm about to see his whole life. Every strength and weaknesse. His summoning, and his potential downfall.

"Are you sure I should see that?" She asked.

"Of course, Yuri," he replied. "I-I know what you're thinking…but I trust you." The stretch of his lips was faint, but he held the smile in his eyes. She felt the blush on her face as his own cheeks heated up, and she dropped her gaze to giggle awkwardly. Flustered.

"If I couldn't bear my all to you, I wouldn't have asked you to marry me." He said.

"Okay."

Yuri cringed at how small her voice sounded, knowing exactly what was hiding behind that single word.

The impulsive, touched-starved part of her brain screamed her attraction to him. His kindness, that boyish smile that seemed to de-age him, and the soft tone he seemed to always hold with her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, barely slowing even when Diavolo set a large book down on the table between them.

It took up the full left half of the table, and Diavolo stood up, standing behind her as he carefully flipped the weathered pages. He stopped in the center of the book, spanning both pages was a swooping tree design, small portraits contained generations of Diavolo's family. Each one looking regal, not a smile in sight, and despite being just ink on paper, Yuri felt a spike in her pulse, a rush of fear in her brain.

Monsters.

Features were quite right. Eyes too big, teeth too sharp, necks too long, ears too pointed.

It was clear that they were demons, and she tried to remind herself exactly where she was.

Of course they're demons.

Yuri watched as he pointed to the ink sketch of a woman with large liquid-golden eyes and gold-tipped wings spanning out behind her.

"My mother," he said. "She died when I was very young."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied.

"I don't have many memories of her. But my father loved her.

"Is that him?" Yuri asked, gesturing to the portrait beside his mother's.

"Yes," he said.

"You look just like him." She replied. "At least in the face." She smiled, glancing up and locking her eyes on his. It was a piercing stare that made him look away first. He cleared his throat, loosening the tight collar of his shirt and taking a step back.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Oh...nothing," Yuri replied. "I just realized that...you have your mother's eyes."

"Hmm…" Diavolo stood up fully, straightening his ruby robe and avoiding eye contact as he worked to compose himself. "I suppose I do."

"Is something wrong, sir? She asked.

Diavolo opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the stone door opening as Barbatos entered. He bowed deeply, setting the tea tray on the free half of the table and lifting a saucer and cup.

"I apologize for interrupting," he said. "Will Miss Yuri be staying for dinner tonight?"

"Yes." Diavolo said. "She will also spend the night in the palace, Lucifer said he would send his brother Mammon with a collection of things for her."

"Very well. I will begin the preparations.

Barbatos turned to leave, bowing once more and quickly leaving the room, the stone door closing behind him with a grating sound.

"Now where were we?"

#obey me! shall we date?#Obey me!#Obey me Diavolo #Obey me diavoloXMC #fanfiction #part 5 #fake relatiosnhip trope #carrot #friends to lovers #slowburn

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handonshipper · 3 years

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If I Knew Then What I Know Now: Chapter Four

After a while, Landon's eyes slowly opened, and he sat up, taking in his surroundings. He was on a bed. An actual clean, larger bed. He hadn't been in one of those for... a while. He felt drained of energy and a bit nauseous. Landon forced down the nausea and focused on everything. His backpack was leaning up against the nightstand on the ground near the bed. He clenched the sheets and looked down at his shirt. He had a different shirt on than before, one that wasn't bloody and torn.

"You're awake" A familiar voice spoke out from near the doorway. He didn't need to turn his head to know who was standing there, watching him.

"Hope" he greeted. "Yeah, I am. How long have I been out?"

"A little less than a day" Hope walked over and took a seat on the bed with Landon. "I shouldn't be here long. It's not safe for you to be around me, but I wanted to see you again. Before..." she fell quiet. She cleared her throat. "You have a bit of a fever that spiked. Here. It's an herbal mixture. It should help finish up cooling you down more than what I've already done" She offered him a small glass of a yellowish liquid.

Landon took the glass and drank the liquid inside. "Thank you" he said.

"You're welcome" the tribrid took the glass back from him. She tucked her hair behind her ear and focused on him. "Now what did you mean when you said 'not you'? That's different than refusing to drink blood at all"

Landon didn't answer her and instead pushed himself up. How could he possibly explain everything to her? It was crazy for him to believe, and he lived it. Hope stood up and moved closer to him, placing a hand on his back to steady him. Her eyes showed concern as she watched him carefully.

"Take it easy. Landon. You seem exhausted"

"I'll be fine. I'm all healed, remember? I can handle a fever and nausea and lightheadedness. It's mild. It could be worse"

Landon gave her a small smile as he spoke, grateful it wasn't affecting him worse. Being Malivore's son certainly came with problems, more than having Malivore constantly send monsters after him over and over again so that he could be possessed by his father. No, that wasn't all. He also had to react badly to hybrid and tribrid and probably regular vampire blood.

"Just get some rest" the tribrid said, looking at him. "My family doesn't mind." She gently nudged him back towards the bed. He sighed softly and sat down on the bed before laying on it and staring at the ceiling. "Good. Look, I'm sorry about... what I did to you. It was an accident. I was lashing out at my Uncle Elijah, and when you came in, I wasn't really paying attention to who you were. I just got caught up in anger. It's not an excuse though"

"It's fine, Hope. I forgive you. So is attacking relatives with super powers something you usually do?" he asked, looking up at her.

"No. No it's not. And what I did was... magic. Magic's real and so are vampires and werewolves but you don't need to worry about that. Just get rested and you can get back to your normal life"

She turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Landon sighed a little and stared at the ceiling, thinking about everything. He felt drained of energy, but he knew he could do what he needed to do to leave. He'd give himself a little longer here before leaving. However, his mind then drifted to what he knew about Hope during this time period. If she was attacking her uncle violently like that, she had to have consumed the Hollow's magic by now. Which meant she was slowly dying, growing weaker with each passing moment.

He couldn't leave her like this, no matter how screwed up he was. He had to help her. And then he could worry about how he was handling things. How he wasn't the same Landon he had been when she gave him the page that listed how she viewed him. Though before he could do any of that, he needed to rest and recover from the vampire blood that had passed through his system. He sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off to sleep a bit, hoping he would feel back to normal once he woke up again.

Eventually, Landon woke up again and sat up, still feeling a little off but better than before. Sunlight was streaming through his window. He put on his jacket that he saw folded on the dresser. He grabbed his bag and opened it before pulling out one of blades and concealing it in his jacket. He zipped up his bag and headed downstairs with it. He suddenly heard muffled voices from a side room and looked towards it before looking away.

"Landon, is it?" questioned the mostly unfamiliar voice of Hope's father.

Landon turned his head to look at him. "Yes, that's me"

"Have you ever been to New Orleans before?" Klaus questioned, walking closer to him.

"Once briefly about a year and a half ago"

"Have you tried beignets before, Landon?"

"No, sir, I haven't" Landon replied Klaus chuckled a little at the word sir being used. He certainly wasn't used to people who weren't full of fear and trying to please him. And even then, it had been a while. "Well, then, you should probably try them while you are here. Come on" he said and led Landon to the dining room. "Make yourself comfortable"

Landon looked at Klaus and took a seat at the long table, looking around a little curiously. He set his backpack down on the ground near him. Klaus came back with two plates of beignets and set one down in front of Landon before taking a seat himself. Landon looked at the original hybrid curiously. He had read first hand in Dr. Saltzman's books all Klaus had done, but when he looked at him all he really saw was Hope's father. The man who would/had died for her. But Landon did not want that to happen again. He did not want Hope to lose her family members again. Though he wished that he could have gone back in time soon enough to save her mother as well. Unfortunately, his luck never seemed to go that well.

"You seem unsurprised about the supernatural existing" Klaus said "Well, you saving my life does help with my perspective" Landon said, looking at him. "And I trust Hope. Even though she magically hurt me" He would never stop trusting her. Landon looked at the sugary breakfast in front of him. He picked up a beignet and took a bite, sugar falling a little on his shirt in the process. "I didn't realize you knew my daughter so well that you trust her. Or perhaps you simply trust easily" "I don't. Trust easily. However, I do trust her" Landon said, looking at Klaus, his expression serious. "Did Hope tell you about her family when she went to check up on you?" "No, she didn't" "Well, I am the Original hybrid, part vampire and part werewolf. The rest of my siblings are Original vampires, except Freya who is a witch. We are 1000 years old and are very protective of our family. Killing people that pose a threat to us. Do you have any family, Landon?" "My mother and brother died. Other than that, I have no one I consider family" Landon said, taking another bite of a beignet.

Malivore certainly did not count. He wanted to use Landon as a vessel and consume all supernatural creatures, including his friends. And Clarke.... well... Clarke was the whole reason Malivore rose. He tossed the final artifact in and was the reason the vase was put in Malivore as well. He's the reason Hope had to sacrifice herself. And he was the reason Josie went dark, which resulted in several other problems.

"I have lost a mother and brother as well" Klaus said, "though I killed my mother. Twice. As well as my fathers. Both biological and not" Klaus said calmly, watching him as he ate as well, despite not needing to. "You seem very cautious, even before you knew what I was" "I've been through a lot recently" "Please, enlighten me" "It's something I don't want to talk about. Not because I don't trust you or Hope or anything but simply because I don't feel comfortable discussing it at all" "I noticed your scars and your burn marks" Klaus said, and Landon's hand subconsciously drifted to his arm, powder getting on his jacket. "What happened?" "My foster dad used to burn me with cigarettes" Something shifted in Klaus' expression as he looked at Landon, the same way it had when he saw Marcel being abused so many years ago. It was something he could relate to very much. He was silent for a moment, his gaze lowering, and he took a bite of his beignet to fill the silence.

Landon was grateful for the silence, still not used to being around people. He continued eating, thinking about everything going on. He knew a lot happened in this time frame, and he wanted to be able to help. Finally, he spoke up again "Is something... wrong with Hope? She seems to be... hurting, I don't know" "She's going through a lot right now after taking in some dark magic. But that is not your concern. Now finish eating" Landon continued eating and looked at him a bit. His head turned as he heard someone quietly approaching before they were in sight. It was Hope "Hey" Hope greeted, looking at the two. She didn't show it visibly but Landon could tell by the look in her eye that she was in pain. "I went to check on you, but you were already up" "Yeah. I'm feeling better now. Mostly anyways. Better enough. Thank you for the.. herbal mixture that you gave me" Landon said, looking at her "You're welcome" Hope said. Landon finished up his beignets, and Hope walked over to Landon. "It was really nice seeing you again." She looked at him and turned away as Klaus approached.

Klaus stepped in front of Landon, who slowly stood up, his bag in hand. "You do not remember anything unusual about Hope or the rest of the family. You saw nothing supernatural. You ran into Hope near our family home. It was getting late so we invited you in to stay the night. When you woke up, you had breakfast with me and are now leaving this city and are not going to think twice about what you could have had for Hope. You are going to find somewhere to live away from that foster dad you mentioned and have a happy human life, safe and away from New Orleans." "Are you out of your minds? How could I forget any of this?" Landon questioned. "Did you do it wrong?" Hope questioned. "I'm a thousand years old. I am fairly certain I know how to compel people" Klaus replied "Well, it didn't work." "Obviously it didn't work. He has been here so he couldn't have had vervain. If he can't be compelled, it can only mean one thing. That he is a supernatural being. Unless, of course, he had vervain with him that he took before coming downstairs." Klaus moved at vampire speed to grab the bag from Landon, who instinctively moved defensively but was too slow. Klaus tossed Hope the bag, and she opened it.

"Weapons?" Hope questioned in confusion, her tone wary as she slowly looked back up at Landon, a wooden weapon in her hand. "You're a hunter?" Landon's lips parted open for a moment before he closed them. "No. Not in the way you are thinking. I swear. Look, we can talk about this. I wanted to when I first saw you, but I had no idea how to explain it"

Klaus moved at vampire speed, pinning Landon to the wall. Landon looked at Klaus, unafraid. "Is that so? Who are you?" he questioned, his grip tightening a bit. "Hope, keep looking" "My name is Landon Kirby. I wasn't lying. I haven't lied to either of you. Except for why I came here. And that was only kind of a lie"

Hope shuffled through his bag. "I don't see any vervain. He couldn't be on it unless he hid it somewhere" "I can't be compelled" "Well then I guess you have a lot of explaining to do" Hope said and waved a hand. "Ad somnum" Landon Kirby fell to the ground, unconscious.

#legacies #cw legacies #legacies cw #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #klaus mikaelson #handon #hope x landon #landon x hope #legacies fanfic #legacies fanfiction #if i knew then #if i knew then what i know now #If i knew then Chapter four #if i knew then what i know now chapter four

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flatfootmonster · 4 years

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Reflections

Neither the gentle rustle of the wind, the ease of the dark, nor the ache of exhaustion is enough to lull me to sleep. Curiosity is an itch that I’m familiar with but not growing in the shadow of ignorance in regards to someone’s emotions. How someone feels has always been inconsequential.

The half-wild creature next to me still shivers, despite the heavy robe now draped over him. But he makes no move to turn or leave, even if these are his chambers I wouldn’t put it past Na-Kyum to storm off and sleep outside. That thought pulls at a thread of amusement and I find myself grinning. He is unknowable; a fey animal dancing on the boundaries of this world and an ethereal realm.

My fingers move on their own, reaching for him and finding soft strands of hair beneath my fingertips. The enjoyment I receive from the way he feels beneath my hands and the gratification that comes when he sighs, inching across the narrow span of space left between us is an even weight. His body is curved towards me—not away. Why am I taking so much stock in irrelevant observations?

He’s just as restless. I could demand he tells me what is bothering him but that concept is foreign; I’ve never needed to know how someone feels. It’s never mattered before. Yet, as he trembles and sniffles, the same anxiety that had its grasp around my gut when he was ill plays in the same shadows my curiosity grew.

Has his spirit been broken? What exactly did his teacher say? That single memory coaxes a tide of murderous anger…

“He is a fool, you realise.” There's an edge to my voice I didn't intend, sharp enough to let blood. Certainly strong enough to make him flinch yet he stays still. Contrary creature. Withdrawing my hand, I resist the urge to pet him—not least because comforting isn't something I often feel compelled to do. Or ever for that matter. That aside, given his unpredictable nature, it's a toss up whether he’d sob or bite me.

Tilting his head up, he gazes at me wide-eyed. The innocence in his soul cannot be sullied—even by me. A long moment of consideration passes before he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Eyes once more are cast down, and that subservience grates me—it shouldn't be there, not for In-Hun.

“It does,” my reply is as firm as the finger I place beneath his chin, tilting his face back up, eyes meeting mine again. “It may be foolish to love without a thought for yourself but the bigger fool is the one who would snub a love so pure. And not only refuse it but to shame it.” My thumb rubs gently along his chin without being told to do so. His lips slacken, the pink tip of his tongue darts out to wet them. Somehow I can feel his tension being eased. The shivering subsides.

“He said I— that I’m a p-prostitute.”

The tide of anger swells again, it's so easily provoked in this matter. The arguments that froth at the surface all relate to me. Implying that I would sleep with a prostitute, or pay for intimacy, would be a misstep that I'd answer with a blade rather than dignify with words. But I cannot give worth to another borrowing from my own standards.

The stern expression I know I've donned, that Na-Kyum now sees, sparks fear in his eyes. Yet he doesn't pull away. "And what do you think?"

The hesitation is enough to alleviate my fury. He at least has the confidence and freedom of thought to question his mentor—or past-mentor. "You keep me here to paint, the agreement was for nothing more," he comes to a premature halt, holding back the speculation I took more than I asked for. He wouldn't be wrong. "I'm not being paid for w-what we do."

A rare and discomforting pang of guilt thrums through my veins. Despite what he says, up until tonight he never had autonomy in our affairs. Choice is a difference between himself and a prostitute. That matter wouldn't normally trifle me, let alone induce guilt, but there it is.

But he came to me now, asked me to take him. Was he simply submitting to his lofty teacher's assessment? Is that what brought this on? As I study him, confusion welling like tears, I see something other than that. Perhaps I want to see it, but it's a point he's been shamed over by In-Hun and used by myself as a probe to tease.

"Enjoying it makes you feel conflicted?" In his naivety, perhaps he assumes the only people that enjoy sex submissively are prostitutes, and that's why they do it. Slaves to desire and nothing more.

His mouth moves wordlessly, unable to even admit the pleasure. But his gaze doesn't deviate from my own. His spirit isn't broken, I'm sure of it. "Not it," he stammers. "It's not what we do, it's that it's you that does it."

My brows knit together as I try to pick apart his words. "What I do makes you feel conflicted?" But the meaning unfurls as I speak. Pushing myself up on one elbow, I look down at him, my hand resting on his neck. His heart is running as wild as his emotions.

"The way I feel—my dreams—" his words stop and start. Impatience is a barely restrained force as I wait for his thoughts to be articulated. "I yearn for you," he whispers finally.

I hear the now that's missing. His adoration lay at someone else's feet, undeserving as they were. But now his allegiance has changed. Something stronger than anger expands in my chest, I can barely breathe for the possessive instinct that overwhelms me. He is mine—body and heart. A battle was won that I had no idea I was fighting.

My fingers curl around his pale and fragile neck, as my thumb runs over his Adam's-apple to the crest of his chin. His head tilts with every minute direction of my hand, apprehension in his eyes, waiting for whatever comes.

He used to feel like a small bird trapped in my fist, I could anticipate the beat of his frail wings before I'd loosen my hold, and mirth would rise as I'd imagine the ways he might try to escape. Now, as he lays beneath me, if I closed my fingers on that bird until bones crunched, the only fight would be its heart against a delicate cage made of ribs. Yet if I hold my palm flat, the bird will perch on my finger.

His spirit isn't broken but he is enamoured in the foolish way he loves, forgetting himself. "You are the fool it seems," I admonish gently, but there's no heat in it. If he is a fool then I must be one, too. Of course I’m aware of the exceptions I make for him.

And he reads between the lines, for once seeing me as transparently as I see him. "Then I am your fool, My Lord." They are the first firm words he's uttered.

Will he now defend my honour, the way he did his teacher’s? Has he done so already? I'm drowning in curiosity over matters that should be insignificant. No—his loyalty is not insignificant; small perhaps but persistent, like the grain of sand that becomes a pearl. I won't probe. Proof of his nature is already abundant, in my memories and before my eyes.

"My fool." The repeated sentiment falls softly from my lips; a coveted caress. Past that, I find it difficult to move from this moment. The stillness draws out as I simply hold his throat in my palm, enjoying the racing pulse that radiates from his surrendered heart. That revelation calls for motion, my hand answers as it slips down to his heaving chest, fingers splayed across vulnerable flesh. He’s blissfully warm where the beat is strongest.

The tip of his tongue darts forth again as a tentative hand drifts up to my arm. Gentle fingers test my bare skin. "You're cold," he murmurs, "let me." The offer is made as his hand falls to the robe, opening it from around himself and proffering one side.

A heavy breath rushes from my lungs as I nod, unravelling muscles that had tensed at some point. Arm laid flat, I settle beside him, allowing the material to be draped over my torso. He fusses over it, focussing on his work as our makeshift covers are smoothed around my shoulders. There’s a furrow between his brows as he does so and I can’t help the way my lips pull at the corners.

“Are you going to mother me now?” I can’t blame him when my jest falls flat. When has he ever heard me joke to know how my tongue paints humour? But that doesn't stop the whiplash of regret that’s inflicted when he recoils, looking down in self-deprecation. I already know his cheeks are red despite the dark withholding solid facts.

He may be quick but so am I, I grasp his hand before it disappears in the folds of fabric. And with his hand I catch his attention, both brought to my mouth as I push a firm kiss to his wrist and then place his palm flat against my chest.

"Don't." It's a one word warning, I'm not sure how to tell him not to pull away from me again without ordering him or begging. After all his candour I should be softer, I just have little practise. "I like your body heat."

I listen to him breathe in the quiet, three haggard exhales before he moves closer. His hand stays where I placed it, warm and soft, and that sensation spreads as his body presses to mine. He tucks his head beneath my chin, and the air that leaves his body caresses my skin. "Is this… OK?"

There's little to be done against the will of my fingertips, my hand runs the length of his back before resting at his nape, holding him tight against me. I hum a yes and it sounds like a contented purr. But there are matters to straighten before I let my senses dull. I already slackened by allowing us to lay here—we should be in my own bed. "Tomorrow you will eat every meal in my presence." He nods quickly, hair tickling my neck.

"I will, My Lord."

"I do not want to see you get sick again." The hardness in my tone resurfaces, but by the way he clings tighter to me he reads it in the context intended: worry rather than impatience. Perhaps he has started to know me, or my hands give me away. They have a mind of their own as they sweep over his smooth skin. "Do you need to eat now?"

"No."

My finger drifts to his chin, tilting his face up so I can peer down at him. "Are you lying?" He shakes his head, a singular and minimal motion, eyes locked to mine and lids heavy. With sleep, or perhaps...

"I want to stay here—this way," he murmurs, emphasizing his meaning by pressing closer.

I draw a line down his torso, finger coming to stop at his naval. "If I hear any complaints from here," I poke at his slender stomach to emphasize my meaning, "then I will feed you myself." The soft beneath my touch pulls taut. He’s tense. Did he expect hurt? It would be a fair assumption given the marks my hands have already made on him. The taste of that realisation is sour but short lived when I hear the soft huff expelled from his lips. Before I’m certain of the reaction that I just witnessed, my fingers run along the seams of his muscles, to the soft spot above his hip. The tensing becomes a full flex as his body curves protectively and something happens that I hadn't expected or considered.

The huff becomes a gentle gurgle. He’s laughing. He’s laughing and I have never wanted to capture something as futile with my fingers before now. I’ve never heard him laugh, and if he’s smiled I can’t recall it. The night and it’s secrets be damned, I can’t see the expression this new development brings to his face. I want to see how his eyes wrinkle, the shape his lips take, the warmth flood his features, whether his cheeks dimple. And now I have stared too long so he grows still. Does he think I disapprove of laughter?

“It’s ticklish,” he murmurs as way of explanation, as if it’s needed and I’m too dull in my senses to draw that conclusion on my own.

“I realise.” And even I can hear the pleasure on my tongue. There’s a pause, he’s hesitating, I imagine he intended to apologise for such a natural and wonderful reaction. It’s down to me to make some things clear, I’m not one for many words, especially when it comes to assurances. “I like your laugh. You will do it more often.” It sounds as ridiculous as I intended the demand be, and he hears it. I grin when my efforts win another soft snort.

“Yes, My Lord.”

#painter of the night #seungho x nakyum #nakyum #seungho #fanfic

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themangledsans0508 · 3 years

Text

Entering the Dungeon because Bonnie said so

Read on Ao3

Summary: Marceline came to Bonnie's aide when she called for Finn and Jake. She didn't expect to be going down a hundred floors while dealing with a shady princess.

Basically, I played Enter the Dungeon over the past two weeks and I have been writing this since the second night of playtime. Trying to write things before I forget them and it is following the canon of the game with some creative liabilities taken.

Words: 3616, Oneshot

Warnings: General Depictions of Violence

Characters: Bonnibel Bubblegum, Marceline Abadeer, Flame Princess

Ships: bubbline

Additional Tags: quests, dungeons, childhood trauma, swearing, adventure, conflict, kind of resolved kind of not, I feel like marcy and phoebe would have a neat dynamic, I've never seen them interact so, some of these scenes were legit my reaction, see: screaming

"Well, it looks like Ice King will be hanging around the Candy Kingdom now," Bonnie sighed. Marceline glanced at the dark entrance to the dungeon and shrugged.

"It's better than down there. At least up here, he can't get hurt," she decided. Bonnie looked at the hole as well and then back to Marceline.

"Marcy, I think you should let the boys handle this one," she stated seriously. Marceline shifted the umbrella in her grip and unfolded her legs to touch the ground.

"Why? I'll be fine."

"Well, asides from the fact that you have been returning up here frequently covered in wounds and the fact that Death is seemingly hunting you down, those aren't just any ancient ruins down there."

"How bad can it be?"

"Mushroom war. If my associations are correct from the information you've given me, then the same city you used to live in” Marceline stiffened. "Finn and Jake can deal with this, you just take a breather, okay?"

"No," Marceline shook her head. "I can take care of it. Just some old relics, nothing a woman like me can't face." Bonnie eyed her warily.

"If you're sure," she said slowly. "Please be careful."

"Send me down, Bonnibel."

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!" Marceline shrieked.

"Marcy are you okay?" Bonnie's crackly voice asked, her projection appearing from the holo-pendant. Marceline leaned against the stone wall, her breathing heavy staring at her punctured legs that were bleeding.

"Just fine," she said sarcastically. "Almost got staked by some rusty metal pipes. Bonnie, this is post-war technology. What did you do?"

"I have important research down there, I had to defend it at least a little bit."

"The thousands of lost souls weren't enough?"

“It’s to protect it from them,” Bonnie snapped. “If these criminals got their hands on it, the Candy Kingdom would be in danger.”

“Oh, yeah, if the political prisoners found evidence you were a corrupt leader then you’d be overthrown.”

“It’s a real threat!” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I wished my healing worked down here.”

“Bodily magic doesn’t work because some of those creatures down there have natural magical prowess.”

“Too bad that there are tons of magic weapons down here.” The spikes retreated and Marceline pushed herself up, floating slowly around with her axe prone and ready. “What about the plants?”

“They’ve mutated to become immune to the limitation,” Bonnie explained.

“Speaking of plants, there’s one now.”

Marceline felt the wind leave her body as she was knocked against the wall, the deer’s antlers puncturing her legs and it licked her.

“Gross! Back off!” She kicked the deer’s underbelly and pushed it off her, slamming her axe down on the deer’s neck. She shakily stood up and was grabbed, a muzzle rubbing against her neck. She hissed as she felt new instincts override her other ones. She pushed herself up and slid under the wolf, standing up to hit it with the neck of her bass causing it to recoil. She slashed across its chest and took a deep breath, stumbling towards the stairwell.

She watched as a green portal opened and Death stepped out, a brown satchel on his waist and he tipped his cap towards her.

“I see you,” he said and Marceline braced herself, taking in the area and how much space she had. She dashed to the left and hugged the wall, growling when she felt skeletal fingers wrap around her forearm. She was jerked backwards and she felt Death’s skull touch her cheek. She could practically feel the energy drained from her as she struggled before she finally got her arm out of his grasp.

She dived for the stairs and fell down them, at the bottom turning back to look. Death stood at the top and made finger guns towards her.

“Kiss of Death, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Marceline hissed.

“Bonnibel, how did you get lava down there,” Marceline asked as she watched the wounds heal. Bonnie handed her a vial of a purple liquid that she drank, whatever cursed her fading away.

“Various tunnels and educated usage of pressure and-”

“It was more rhetorical. But I did get burned. And stabbed. And shot. And kissed without my consent.”

“What? Who kissed you?” Bonnie exclaimed.

“Death. He was blocking the stairs so I tried to duke him but he caught me. I did manage to get down the stairs though.” Marceline tapped her cheek in the spot that Bonnie assumed she was kissed. “Good thing I’m already dead.”

“Death shouldn’t be hanging around in the dungeon,” Bonnie muttered. “It’s interfering with the mortal realm and not allowing the natural flow to keep order.”

“Well, you’re throwing people in a dungeon and barring magic. That messes with the natural flow,” Marceline pointed out.

“Shut up,” Bonnie snapped. “Have you found any signs of the hoomans?”

“None. I’m going to head back down though, I’ll find them.” Bonnie grabbed her wrist and locked eyes with her.

“Marceline, you’re getting close to a bad place. A place that you were nine-hundred ninety-nine years ago. I really think you should stay up here this time."

"Bonnibel, it will be fine. Send me down."

Marceline stared at the ruined food truck, a flood of emotions overwhelming her. She listened to the sea of growling and heard a soft humming mixed in. She picked up a rock and threw it at the truck, the old voice box still working. The red siren turned on, illuminating the maze in red light. Her breathing became unsteady and rapid when the oozers began to glow, and she spotted a hooman among them. The hooman saw her as well and started happily skipping towards her.

She took out her axe and started swinging at the oozers, their green insides spilling out onto the ground. When the hooman was close enough, she grabbed her wrist and bolted, bringing her to the fence and kicking open the gate. She looked over at Susan’s grateful face and to the entrance of the maze and sighed.

“I’m booked for this, aren’t I?”

“Marceline! Marceline are you okay?” Bonnie grabbed her arm and started looking over her body, circling her and checking over the exposed skin and where the clothes were ripped.

“Bonnie, I’m fine. I can’t believe they’re still down there.” Bonnie stopped and stepped back.

“I couldn’t get rid of them. If that green goop even touches you that’s it. I just thought if I buried them then that would be the end of it. How the hoomans even got down there I don’t know.”

“Probably something to do with that buff cat chick,” Marceline jabbed her thumb towards Susan.

“Maybe. I’ll ask her later. But Marcy, that one got really dicey. Everyone made it out safely, but you almost didn’t. That swarm could have easily overwhelmed you. Can you please let Finn and Jake take care of this? I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want them to get hurt,” Marceline mumbled. “I’m the best choice for this. I can teleport back to the surface, I know how to fight, I’ve been in all these places before. Plus I can literally eat the red bullets.”

“If you insist,” Bonnie sighed. She pulled her necklace and started fiddling with it. “What floor?”

“Marce, that one was close. This is the seventh time,” Bonnie scolded. Marceline shrugged and leaned on her.

“I’m exhausted,” she complained. “Magic Man hit me with some bullshit.”

“A strength-sapping spell,” Bonnie murmured. She pulled a herb out of her bag and placed it on top of Marceline’s head. “Stand still,” she instructed and counted under her breath before removing it. “You need to rest for at least three hours.”

“No,” she slurred, backing up and swaying on her feet. “I can keep going. I just…” She started falling forward and Bonnie caught her, sighing.

“Will you just go take a nap or something?” she asked. Marceline groaned.

“Don’t let anyone else go in there. I can deal with this myself,” she ordered and Bonnie pushed her back, keeping one hand on Marceline’s shoulder and crossing over her chest.

“Cross my heart,” Bonnie smiled. Marceline raised her umbrella in the air.

“I am going to the corner,” she announced and wandered off towards Choose Goose.

“Marceline, things are looking really dangerous. You keep having to retreat back up here,” Bonnie said softly. Marceline shrugged.

“Whatever, I’m still making it out,” she stated. Bonnie crossed her arms.

“You almost aren’t,” Bonnie scolded. “Do you want some help?”

“Bonnibel Bubblegum fighting in a dungeon? I don’t know.” Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“No, a token per se. Something that’ll protect you.” Marceline shook her head aggressively.

“No. I don’t need any help. None! Send me down!”

“If you say so,” Bonnie sighed.

“Will you accept my offer now?” Bonnie asked, placing her hands on her hips. Marceline put a hand on her forehead and clenched her jaw.

“Fine. Yes. What do you have.”

“Pep-but! Grab the sweater!” Bonnie called. Peppermint Butler came running with a knitted pink sweater folded in his arms. “Thanks, Peps. Marcy, arms up.” She took the sweater from his arms and held it. Marceline used her free hand to motion towards herself.

“Umbrella.”

“You have telekinesis.”

“Oh, yeah.” She let the umbrella float above her slightly higher and she raised her arms. Bonnie slid it carefully over her head and adjusted her collar. Marceline scratched at it.

“This is tight, Bons,” Marceline complained. Bonnie smiled shyly.

“It’s made of the strongest magic out there,” she said quietly. Marceline quirked an eyebrow.

“O-kay. I thought you thought magic was a sham.” She tugged at the hem of it and frowned, her eyes narrowing at Bonnie. “Why can’t I take it off?”

“Well, you see, I had a feeling you might try to take it off, and for your own safety, I may have had it engineered so that you couldn’t take it off until you were in a sound state. Since you’re going back in, it recognizes that you are going to be in harm’s way.”

“I should have known there’d be a catch,” Marceline grumbled.

“It’s in your best interest,” Bonnie stated.

“That doesn’t make it right. Look, I’m just going back down. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

Marceline carefully pulled the pink sweater over her head and slid it over the umbrella handle.

“I’m not putting that back on,” she growled and sighed. “Everything is covered in your gum down there, you’ve been having fun without me? And since when did you have a giant pink cat thing and a huge gryphon eagle thing?”

“Goliad and Stormo? I’m glad they’re still balancing each other out.”

“I’m not getting an explanation? I should’ve expected that.”

“Also, I’m sorry but your corner is occupied now. I thought you could all use a break from the dungeon and while you may not enjoy the opportunity, the Nightosphere offered a challenge for anyone who felt so inclined. Maybe while everyone does that you can rest?”

“Why are you pushing me to slow down? I’m in my groove right now. You’re not my mom,” Marceline snapped.

“I’m not trying to be your mom! I care about you and I’m worried you’re pushing yourself too hard!”

“Well geez, it’s nice of you to care after all this time! I know my limits! I’ll show you! I’m going to the Nightosphere!”

“Marceline!”

“Don’t come after me,” she snapped and stalked off. Bonnie hugged herself and grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you going to calm down now?” Bonnie asked. Marceline kicked the dirt angrily.

“No. But I think I give up for now. That whole jam is ridiculous. There’s so much going on at once. I think the normal chaos is what I prefer right now. You know, I think it’d be cool if you came down too.” Bonnie shifted uncomfortably.

“Someone needs to stand guard here.” Marceline motioned towards the banana guards to either side.

“Found two,” she pointed out.

“It has to be me,” Bonnie insisted. She leaned over and whispered so only Marceline could hear. “You know how incompetent these guys can be.”

“Whatever you say P-Bubs.”

“So, how’d Flame Princess get locked down there, in the lab that belongs to you trapped in a machine you made.” Bonnie shrugged.

“No idea.”

“You can’t keep trying to ruin Finn’s relationship, girl. It’s an unhealthy obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession, it’s a coincidence! It’s a coincidence that she got trapped in my machinery

“You aren’t confirming it or denying it.”

"I don't need to. I'm not that cruel a woman that I would trap a child for a science experiment."

"Actually-"

"Don't." Bonnie held a finger out to stop Marceline from continuing. "There's no reason for me to lock Flame Princess up, especially when she herself is the biggest threat to the Candy Kingdom. It isn't wise to poke the bear with a stick, you know what I mean?"

“Yeah, I guess. She really wants to join the travel party now, so she might still be gunning to destroy the kingdom.” Bonnie placed a nervous hand on her cheek and glanced warily towards Flame Princess, who appeared to be trying to explain something to Finn.

“Could you keep an eye on her?” Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Marceline snapped and sighed, “but yeah, I guess. I’d rather all of Ooo not be lit on fire. I’ll take her with me.” Bonnie smiled gratefully. “Anything I need?”

“I recommend a fire-resistance charm, in case you get caught in the crossfire.” Marceline nodded and dropped some gold in her hand. “I’ll use the charm, and that armour Finn hates too. Also, let Flame Princess use whatever token she wants, I don’t care.”

“Flame Princess! Marceline wants you to come with her!” Bubblegum shouted and the teen came running, small fires dotting her every step.

“That was exhilarating! So many things happening at once, so many creatures and questions! I knew that Bubblegum was no good!” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Hey, cut her some slack. She’s been at this for a long time,” Marceline growled. Flame Princess looked at her in confusion.

“You can’t honestly look at all this and tell me she’s not evil or at least bad. Look at all this stuff! Living beings forced to stay down here to the rest of their lives. Why? Is what they did really bad enough to deserve this?”

“Yes!” Marceline snapped. “And you don’t know Bonnie like I do.”

“Well, how do you know her so well?”

“I know her so well because-”

“You have done well to come this far,” A voice echoed, startling both girls. Marceline and Phoebe both looked to the speaker.

“Bonnie? What are you doing all the way down here?” Marceline asked.

“Something evil I bet,” Phoebe spat and Marceline whacked the back of her head, ignoring the burning sensation. Bonnibel frowned.

“This is my dungeon,” she said plainly. “And this room is the bottom of it. So, great job! You can go home now, back to the surface or whatever.”

“I don’t think so. There’s probably something in here that you’re hiding,” Phoebe hissed. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“This doesn’t make sense. What’s down here, Peebs?” Bonnie chuckled nervously.

“Nothing! This is the bottom. That’s it. But just to be safe,” she glared discreetly at Phoebe “I need you to promise me you will not touch my desk back there. It has important research on it that you could mess up. This could be your final quest in this adventure, just promise me. Royal promise. No touchies.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Marceline insisted. Bonnie shook her head.

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine! Whatever!” Marceline threw up her arms in defeat. Bonnie smiled. It wasn’t one of her normal smiles, not one of the ones Marceline was used to. It was empty and cold. Her eyes were unreadable.

“I think we’re done here then. Thank you for solving the mystery.” Marceline looked her up and down and walked past her, looking down at the table. Phoebe walked up beside her and glanced at Marceline.

“These papers are unreadable,” she whispered. Marceline absentmindedly picked up one of the papers, seeing the words were faded and the pictures were half-erased. Then the wall in front of them opened, showing a dark pink gum tunnel.

“Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you! Where does this even go?” Marceline shouted. She spun around to face Bonnibel and scowled at the expression on her face. An expression she hadn’t seen in centuries, since they had broken up. Her eyes were narrowed and she had a slight frown. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her and she straightened her back to look at them like she was above them.

You’ll never know where it goes,” she said slowly, “you broke a royal promise. And you know what that means. I’m sorry girls, it’s business.” Marceline saw out of the corner of her eye a fireball that Phoebe had thrown before they both teleported above the kingdom, standing on a cotton candy cloud and looking up at the Gumball Guardians.

“I told you,” Phoebe shouted. Marceline growled and readied her axe.

“Well, at least I’ll get a metal song out of this,” Marceline mumbled. Phoebe scoffed.

“You’re thinking about music? I’m thinking about revolution!” Her hands lit up and she prepared to attack before Bonnibel ran out in front of them.

“Wait! You don’t understand! I know this thing looks like a monster, but you have to listen to me! It doesn’t want to hurt you! It just-” A gum tentacle swung out and grabbed her, causing both Marceline and Phoebe to jump back.

“Bonnie! You’re not getting out of this that easily!” She lunged forward only to get hit in the face with a metal ball, knocking her back. Phoebe dragged her to her feet.

“Think smart!” She barked.

Marceline was angry at Bubblegum, but seeing everyone else rail on her for something she herself had done as well, made her get a bit protective. She’d deal with the lying later.

“Wouldn’t you lie to protect your weird old parents too?” Marceline snapped. She floated down and wrapped her arms around Bonnie’s shoulders, glaring at the entire crew. She glanced at Bonnie for a split second and saw her small smile and she flashed one back. She was still holding her when the mass of gum began to separate.

“Thanks for helping me out, I do wish you could’ve done it without killing my parents though,” Bonnie said. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“They aren’t dead. We can go catch them if you want.”

“No, no. They’ll come back if they want,” Bonnie sighed. “Marceline, come inside. I want to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, sure.” Marceline followed her up the candy steps and through the winding halls, ending in Bonnie’s room. She motioned towards the bed.

“Sit down,” she ordered and Marceline obliged, sitting down with her arms crossed. “I want to apologise to you.”

“For what? For sending me on a wild goose chase? For trying to get your gumball guardians to murder me? For lying to me and tricking me? For literally putting all of us in mortal danger? Which one is it?” Marceline snarled. Bonnie winced.

“All of that, listen, Marceline, I didn’t want to do all that! But responsibility demands sacrifice and the cost kept escalating. I didn’t expect it to get so out of hand before it was already there. I was running out of ways to stop you.”

“Maybe the best way to have stopped me would have been to tell the truth? Did you ever consider that?” Marceline snapped. “Everyone could have died, get that through your thick skull! All of us could have died!” She stood up and sat back down, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking deep breaths. “I don’t even know how long it’s been, all I know is you haven’t changed a bit. You put your own pride over the actual lives of other people.”

“Marceline-”

“No, Bonnie, listen. It’s been like this for centuries. It’s exhausting. I had thought you were different now. I really did. But I guess old habits die hard.”

“I’m trying to change. I really am Marcy. I just- I was scared. You know what it’s like to have to face the potential of losing your parents. You know what it’s like to lose them. I don’t. I just had to come head-to-head with it today. It’s not okay that I did all that, but I panicked,” Bonnie rambled. Marceline stood up and shook her head.

“I’m going home. I have a killer headache and I’m tired. I got up to come help and I did, so my job’s done.” She rubbed her temple and walked to the door, reaching for the handle only for her hand to be grabbed.

“I’m sorry. I want you to know that. I really am sorry.” She hesitated. She looked to Bonnie and inhaled sharply. She did look remorseful, but sometimes remorse was not enough.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” she mumbled. Bonnie looked away.

“I understand.” She quickly hugged Marceline and backed away, walking to filter through her closet. “It’s okay if you never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’ve forgiven you for worse,” Marceline stated. “But this one will take me a bit. I’ll text you eventually.” She strolled out and narrowly avoided Peppermint Butler who was coming into the room, getting called some harsh words as she opened her umbrella to make her way home.

#chara writes #at bubblegum #at marceline #bubbline #adventure time

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned (Part Eight)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Context: (y/n) has to stay entertained at the cave, and so goes about setting up defences.

A/N: I think this chapter is a bit dull, but I promise it gets better soon!

Masterlist

Unsurprisingly, no light filters into my room when I wake again the next morning, my eyes having to swiftly adjust to the shadowy sight before them as I sit up, rubbing at my scalp. A pounding headache has set in, thanks to the lack of sleep and the sheer amount of over thinking I did last night, my skull feeling as if it's about to explode as I swing my legs out from under the covers, knowing that I have even more planning and preparing to do if I want to survive long enough to see the end of the year. Stretching out the dull ache in my muscles, I check the watch on my wrist briefly to get an idea of the time: 4:23. Whether that is AM or PM, I have no idea yet, but I aim to find out, quickly grabbing my rucksack and jacket as I stand and leave the room, heading out into the main hall where the boys usually spend their nights.

Bright light streams in from the outside, indicating that it is 4:23 PM, illuminating the decrepit lobby in a new clarity I've not seen it in before, every piece of scattered rubbish given a new appearance. In the daylight, the whole place looks less sinister, and more like an abandoned antiques shop, the dusty bits and pieces casting odd shaped shadows onto the floor as the sunlight hits them from a certain angle, every dull colour suddenly highlighted more than usual. I have to blink a few times to allow my eyes to adjust, but they quickly do so, my gaze swiftly flicking around the looming room so that I can take it all in, a plan springing to my mind as I observe it all.

Silently, I get to work, dropping my bag on the fountain ledge and rummaging around in it, pulling everything out to lay it out in front of me so that I can properly see what I have. It's not much, but it's enough to satisfy what needs doing. Picking up the lightweight chains we are required to own, I grab some dirty old cans lying a little way away, the litter most likely the remains of a meal from sometime before, their rusted forms almost perfect for what I need them for.

Eyeing the brightly lit entrance, I take up a ball of string, too, and go over to it, stepping out onto the rickety walkway, examining the rugged wood with a critical eye as I walk out a little way, putting some weight in my step. Under each step, the wood moves slightly, the material having a light spring to it thanks to its age and exposure to the elements, which makes me frown slightly, hoping my plan will still work even though this is the case. Kneeling down, I measure out a length of string that runs the width of the walkway and use my knife to cut it to size. Setting it aside, I get to work on the chains, making six separate lengths with cans attached to them, each one of them rattling loudly as I shake them out experimentally. Smiling to myself, I connect one chain to the end of the piece if string, doubling it over itself for a better result, quickly doing the same on the other end of the string, weighting it down perfectly. I find a pair of small rocks lodged into the cliffside beside me and place them at opposing ends of the walkway, but not before I've scraped a small groove into their surfaces, where the string rests once I've set it up, hanging the chains over the sides of the walkway. The string sits an inch or so above the surface of the walkway, meaning it is easily tripped over, setting off the rudimentary alarm.

I repeat this twice more, leaving them at alternating distances from each other to provide a crude trap to alert anyone inside the cave of approaching intruders: when someone trips the string, the cans and chains will rattle loudly, signifying their approach. Absentmindedly, I hear a small voice in my head telling me that any SRS soldiers will be expecting this, and won't fall for such an amateur trap, quickly deciding that I need to work on something inside the cave, too, something more hidden.

Going back inside, I wipe some sweat from my upper lip, surprised at the heat of the day despite it being mid-October, my clothes sticking to me as I go back to my rucksack, trying to figure something else out. My eyes are quickly drawn to the grenades I have left. They won't work very well on humans, but the loud noise and subsequent explosion of mist will throw anyone off if caught up in it, meaning they are somewhat effective for this purpose.

Grabbing them, I take the string again and go to the entrance, making sure to set up two of the conveniently placed barrels of charcoal the boys use as braziers, setting them up a little way apart around the front of the cave. Going a little way ahead of them again, I place a seemingly random cardboard box face down on the floor, checking the layout once more, before measuring pieces of string again. Cutting them all to size, I tie one end of each of the length to the ring of a grenade, which I carefully loosen, hiding the two explosives under the cardboard box as I loop the string around the two barrels, pulling it tightly enough that it creates another tripwire across the entrance.

Sitting back, I look at my handiwork, noting that the string isn't too obvious and that the overall look isn't too bad. Cautiously, I pull the string taut again, knowing how tense it needs to be for this trap to actually work. Aware that this is now a near-fatal hazard for the four original residents of the cave, I make a mental note to warn them of the new trap before one of them accidentally trips it and gets a face-full of burning holy water.

Sighing, I go back to my rucksack and pick up the gun, checking the clip for rounds, annoyed to find it only about half-full, most of them having been used over the last few days, meaning it needs reloading. I check over the rest if my stuff, growling when I realise that I haven't got anymore bullets with me, leaving me with a pretty much useless weapon which will need reloading very quickly. Setting it down again, I quickly make a decision, going back out into the daylight and up to the cliff top, where I grab some of the random pieces of driftwood lying around, returning to the cave with an armfull of them. Tiredly, I drop them to the floor and sit down, pull in out my knife so I can start whittling them down - a skill every Hunter is taught is how to make wooden bullets, seeing as they are effective against both supernatural and natural creatures.

A small pile of bullets has steadily grown by the time the boys finally emerge from their sleep, the last rays of sunlight having dissipated an hour or so ago, my fingers sore from scratching the knife over the dry wood for so long, though it has paid off: I have enough to fill four or five clips, now. As they enter the room, I look up at them with a tired smile, glad to have some company now.

"Hey guys. Sleep well?" I greet them, waving slightly with the knife, my tone light despite the tension in my body.

"Mostly, yeah." Marko responds, coming over to me with the others, their brows furrowed as they see what I'm doing.

"What're you up to?" Dwayne questions, eyeing the bullets apprehensively.

"Making some more rounds for my gun. I didn't bring enough ammo, so I'm making my own." I explain, gesturing to the pile dismissively.

"Out of wood?" Paul interjects, looking genuinely curious.

"Yep. It's the only available material."

"That's...kinda cool, but also pretty worrying." The blonde vampire muses, dropping down beside me as he goes to pick one up.

"I'm not planning to use them in you guys, don't worry." I reassure them, rolling my eyes.

"Why do you need so many?" David asks, blue eyes appearing much darker in this light.

I shrug casually, finishing up the one I'm currently working on.

"In case the SRS comes knocking. Speaking of which, I've set up some traps by the entrance, so just be careful of them." I make eye contact with David, "One of them will be very painful if it's tripped."

He frowns a little, but nods in any case.

"Duly noted." The vampire licks his lips carefully, "I'm hungry, so I'm gonna head out and get something to eat. You boys coming?"

Marko and Paul eagerly agree, though Dwayne politely declines.

"I think it's a good idea if someone stays here with (Y/n), and I'm not that hungry so I'm happy to do that." The dark haired vampire explains, watching me for a reaction as I give him a confused look, surprised at the offer.

"You don't need to, Dwayne. I'm grateful for the offer, but I don't want to ruin your night..." I start, only to be cut off by him sitting down beside me.

"Don't worry about it, I'd rather stay here. Plus, maybe you can show me how to do that. It'd get the job done quicker with two people doing it."

"I guess. Thank you." I murmur, still surprised, trying to ignore the blush rising to my cheeks.

"No problem."

"Right, well, we'll be back in a few hours. Want us to bring you something back, Dwayne?" David cuts in, eyeing the two of us carefully.

"No, it's alright. I'll go out when you guys get back."

"Ok. See you two later." Without another word, the three vampires leave the room, the surrounding quickly lapsing into silence as Dwayne and I sit there.

"So, how do you carve these?" He finally asks, pulling a knife from the pocket of his jacket, his thumb running swiftly over the blade to test it's sharpness.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. Just copy me..." I run through the basic premise of what needs doing, the vampire easily picking it up, the two of us starting to produce a good amount of them between us.

Part Nine

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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