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winchesterxxi · 4 years

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To Make you Mine (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: PG-13

Type: Fluff

Summary: Din got the darksaber and as we know he can’t yield it to Bo Katan, it needs to be won in a fight. He doesn’t want the darksaber to land in Bo’s hands because she doesn’t sit right with him, so he suggests you take it, along with an interesting proposal

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: CH.16 SPOILERS, graphical descriptions of violence, mentions of blood, implications of sex

A/N: This idea came to me in one of my many maladaptative daydreaming moments a few weeks ago so bear with me

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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You were trying to find a sense of normality.

After yours and Din’s life had been turned upside down just the week before, with losing your home and giving away your kid all in less than a couple of days, you had to go somewhere and deal with things. And you knew the Mandalorian by your side would never willingly take a single day off.

But with the help of a newly acquired ally, who also happens to have become the newest leader of Jabba’s Palace, Boba Fett, you managed to get in the possession of a small A-47 Airspeeder. Having a friend feared by all of Tatooine had its advantages.

You flew the fighter to what you knew to be a safe place to rest, across the galaxy: the forest moon of Endor.

You landed three days ago, and you and Din have been living a nomad life, using the ship to sleep in and igniting fire every day and night to cook and keep yourselves warm. You could’ve easily settled on a planet with a more hospitality feel to it; staying in an inn. But you knew this is what you both needed – fresh air away from everyone.

Despite Din’s way of dealing with the past events was to either cry alone or keep quiet, you always found intense physical activity the best way to blow off some steam. Tragic events had a way of making you angry, and this is the coping mechanism you found.

Slipping out of the small cot in which you were pressed against Din’s chest, you get some sturdier clothes on and get out of the ship, and run in big circles until you feel tired.

Once you were in your 15th lap, you couldn’t really tell anymore at this point, Din descends from the ship, full armor on which catches your eye.

“What’s wrong?” you yell so that he can hear you from how far you are.

From where he stands, he simply motions you to come closer with his left hand. You stop running and head in his direction instead, regaining your breath.

“What’s so important, you couldn’t wait for me to run my laps?” you question him, letting your hair loosen itself from the tight ponytail in which you had put it in to prevent it from getting in your way.

“I was thinking about something, and I’ve come to a decision.” His modulated voice explains calmly.

“Okay… and what decision have you exactly come to?”

“I don’t want the dark saber.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear to everyone three days ago.” you frown up at him, not understanding where the conversation was going.

“And I don’t trust Bo Katan.” You nod along, following his words.

“I want you to have it.”

You almost choke on your own spit when he communicates his decision to you, completely aloof as to why he would’ve thought of such a stupid thing.

“Are you out of your kriffing mind?!” you practically yell at him, waving your hands in the air, striding away from him to calm yourself down. You take a deep breath before turning to face him, still a few feet away. “What in the galaxy makes you think that I would ever do that?! Plus, you do remember that if I were to get that thing,” you gesture to his right hand, which has since reached for the dark saber “we would have to fight over it. As in, beat each other up.”

Din doesn’t dare to get closer to you, simply talking from where he is standing.

“It’s not a thing, it’s the single most powerful weapon in all of the Mandalorian history and yes, I do know that.” His helmet nods down and you finally connect the dots as to why he was in full armor when there was virtually no one on this moon besides the both of you. You sigh and your shoulders lower. You can’t believe that you’re actually considering this, hand coming up to press against your forehead.

“What’s in it for me besides the pain in the ass of having to rule all the Mandalorians in the galaxy?”

“I’ll marry you.” Once again your body as if goes into shock, stiffening up every possible muscle and your eyes widening.

“You -…” you stop yourself, before you scream, quickly striding over to him “You’ll what now?”

“If you can win the dark saber, I’ll marry you, you’ll become part of my clan, you’ll become a Mandalorian, and no other will be able to oppose you as their ruler.”

If before your heart was beating faster than ever with a mix of rage, confusion, and just overall annoyance, it has now sunk to the bottom of your stomach.

You and Din shared a connection beyond words, having spent countless nights together, both in union acting as guardians to Grogu and if anything ever happened to him you know you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. So many were the times when you thought you’d lose him for the crazy stunts he has pulled to save the people he loves.

It was a love that didn’t need to be spoken, rather felt or shown, but now you weren’t so sure it was reciprocated as his answer bore a purely practical solution to a problem. Not a declaration in any way.

“Oh… Yeah, that makes sense.” You can’t hide the way your body slouched slightly and your face dropped at his answer. Din walks over to you, his chest tight at the words that he wants to say to you.

“And…” He places his free gloved hand upon your cheek, causing you to look up and meet his hidden gaze. If you could see through the dark visor of his helmet you would you could see the gentle smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners as he looked adoringly at you, maybe soon “obviously, because I love you, mesh’la.”

You take a quiet breath in as your heart skips a beat at his confession. The words he’s wanted to say to you for so long and that you have longed to listen to for longer than you’d care to admit.

“I’ve lost too many things in my life, and if there is the chance for me to take you like a piece of myself for the rest of my life, I’m going to take it.” He brings his helmet down to meet your forehead and you take a deep breath before stepping backward and away from him, crouching down into a fighting stance, as you bring your hands up to be close to your face, closing them into two fists.

“Are you sure?” You ask “What if I hurt you?”

“Give me your best.” Is all he says, igniting the saber at the same time as he reaches for the spear lodged in the back of his cape and throwing it in the direction of your chest. You grab it before it falls to the floor, handling it the way you had been instructed all those months ago when you insisted the man standing in front of you to teach you to defend yourself. “I know I’ve taught you well.”

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile and you speed up to where he is, bringing the beskar speer down to meet the saber’s glowing blade as the sound of the clash echoes around you.

You breathe in before moving the spear to try and strike him from a different angle, moving forward as he backs away at the same time, grunting at the effort, all possible friendliness within the combat having completely flow away.

Once you finally think you have a good aim, he steps out of your trajectory, causing you to stumble forward with the momentum of the blow you were about to deliver.

“Think before striking, Y/n. We’ve done this before!” his voice comes heavy and sharp through the modulator in his helmet. Turning back at him, you are panting before running back to him, lifting your spear as if to strike him, but as his blade goes up to meet your weapon you slump below it and turn back, immediately hitting him on his defenseless back, in between the beskar plates.

He groans in pain and stumbles forward.

“Faster, Din. We’ve done this before.” You mock his earlier statement, smirking at him.

Oh. The man is pissed off. You can’t see his face, but having known him for so long you can tell by his body language that he is no longer padding around the playground. He means business.

He charges at you full force, but you block his blow with your spear, rotating and pushing it away from you at the same time, both of your weapons fly to the side.

You both look at the weapons, before looking at each other in sync, knowing exactly that you were going to try and go for the saber.

Din runs from you but you quickly catch up to him, advantages of him being in full beskar armor, weighing down on him and you only sporting some training clothes. You throw one of your legs around his waist and the other over his shoulder, rotating with his neck in the center so that you’re in front of him, and you pull your body weight to the side, bringing his own down with you.

You both fall to the ground with a heavy thud, his side crushing the leg that landed under him as you let out a cry. But you fight through the pain as you look to your side and notice that the place you are is only a few feet away from where the weapons landed. Holding him in a chuck hold with your legs, you hastily reach for the saber’s handle and switch yourself from underneath him, straddling his chest and holding the blade dangerously close to his throat.

You are both heavily breathing, you visibly sweating and his grip on you loosens as he holds his hands close to his face, surrendering.

You shakily exhale as a smile makes its way onto your lips and you nod in amusement, standing up from where you were.

Looking down at your lover, you extend him your free hand, which he takes as you pull him up to your level. He hovers over you as your right-hand turns the dark saber off, both chests still heaving up and down.

He brings his forehead down, shoulders slouching as he bows to the new Mand’alor.

“Ner alor.” My leader. “Mand’alor.” Sole Ruler.

You smile up at him once he straightens back to his full height.

“Now,” you grin with your tongue in peeking behind your teeth, and hanging the dark saber’s handle to your belt “If I remember correctly, I heard something about getting married... am I correct, my loyal subject?”

You walk slowly up to him, swaying your hips in the course.

His arms come to rest upon your waist, his voice letting out an amused hum and you just know he is smiling like an idiot underneath the beskar.

“And if I remember correctly, according to the Creed, that means that all this…” you tap with your pointer finger on the beskar of his helmet, chest and arms finalizing with a light tap of your nail against his crotch protection “gets to come off. Right?”

His grip on your waist tightens.

“Let’s go inside to find out.”

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PEDRITO TAGLIST

@weirdowithnobeardo

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#i suck at writing action sequences #i'm sorry #winchesterxxi #star wras #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x reader #star wars

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Rest, Now

Prompt: I absolutely love your protective knights/protective Arthur works. Would you write your take on the aftermath of the Lamia episode? I'd love to see Arthur's reaction once he finds out what happened to Merlin. Bonus points for protective Gwen as well, and them knowing about Merlin's magic.

Ah yes, love this prompt. Protecc™ the Merlin pls

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, just a sad Merlin

Pairings: gwen/merlin/arthur

Word Count: 2096

The second he sees the walls of Camelot, Merlin slumps in the saddle. Cara nickers in warning and he just manages to right himself before Arthur looks over.

“Are you sure you don’t need to be cured too?”

Merlin suppresses a shudder and shakes his head. Arthur gives him a once-over before turning back around. Gaius gives him a look.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, “just ready to get back home.”

“You and me both, Merlin.”

“Merlin?” Gwen reaches over to touch his arm, stopping when he flinches. “Whoa, Merlin, are you alright?”

“Yes, fine, just—“ he shakes his head— “little jumpy.”

He sees Gwen’s mouth harden a little as she shoots a glance at Elyan. She nods. Camelot’s door can’t close behind them soon enough.

The knights dismount first, each patting their horse as they lead them to the stables. Gwaine looks over his shoulder and reaches for Merlin. Merlin manages to hold still as Gwaine takes his arm.

“Are you sure you’re alright,” he asks in the soft voice normally reserved for dark nights when Gaius is out and Arthur is crueler, “do you need anything?”

Merlin shakes his head.

“Will you tell me if you do?”

He nods. It seems to satisfy Gwaine but not Elyan, who narrows his eyes.

“When was the last time you got looked at? Did Gaius check you out too?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Is that Percival too? “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

There are too many of them. Too many. They could be hurt. They could still be susceptible to magical influences. Merlin’s magic could—he could—they’re still vulnerable.

They could still hurt him. He could—she could still have some hold on them. It wouldn’t be the first time Gaius’s magical knowledge has failed them.

“Enough!”

Gwen? Is that Gwen?

“You’re hounding him,” she scolds, pushing through the tangle of knights to put her arm protectively around Merlin’s shoulders, “knock it off. You’ve all had a rough go of it recently so go rest and let Merlin do the same.”

As Merlin watches the knights shuffle like scolded puppies, despite everything a corner of his mouth tugs up in a slight smile. Never let it be said that Gwen can’t make people do what she likes.

The only one standing in between him, Gwen, and getting as far away from here as possible is Leon. He looks at Merlin, splits him in two, peers into the very being of his soul. Then his eyes soften almost imperceptibly and he bows.

“My Lady,” he says, “Merlin. May you rest well.”

Thank you, Leon.

By the time Merlin’s shepherded away from the knights under Gwen’s wing, he looks up to realize that Arthur’s gone. A rush of worry slaps him in the chest.

“Shh,” Gwen whispers as she guides him through the halls, “we’re almost there. It’s alright.”

Arthur turns when they push open the door to the massive chambers, already out of his armor—how long was Merlin down there?—and coming around the table to take Gwen into a hug. Right. Merlin gives himself a shake and starts moving to get their food, do his chores.

Only to be thwarted by a strong arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him into a shoulder that smells light sunlight and metal.

“Where are you going,” Arthur mumbles, absentmindedly nuzzling into Merlin’s hair, “I’ve not had the chance to see you properly since this mess started.”

At the mention of what just happened, Merlin tenses. No. Arthur was never hurt by the Lamia. Arthur was never caught. Arthur is fine. Arthur is safe. Arthur isn’t hurt.

“Merlin? Merlin!”

He blinks, only for Arthur’s concerned face to swim into view in front of him. Next to him, Gwen wraps her hand around his, squeezing gently.

“Hey,” Arthur murmurs, tilting his head, “what’s the matter? You went somewhere for a moment.”

Merlin can’t do anything but blink.

“Come on,” Arthur teases gently, “surely it takes more than a hug to daze you?”

Something cold settles in the pit of Merlin’s stomach.

“They—they were—all she had to do was kiss them.”

“What?”

“All she had to do was talk to them, touch them, kiss them,” Merlin mumbles, “and they were hers. They changed, they didn’t care, they were—it was just a kiss.”

“Hey, hey—“ Arthur starts to hustle him toward the bed— “sit, Merlin, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

Gwen fetches a goblet and wraps his hand around it. “Drink, Merlin.”

“What is it?”

“Pear juice, your favorite.”

“Oh.” Merlin raises it to his lips. What’s wrong with him? Why is he acting like this? He’s fine.

“You just watched some of your closest friends succumb to powerful magic,” Gwen points out when he voices that, “you watched their minds change, that’s enough to shake anyone.”

“But they’re alright now, Merlin,” Arthur promises, “you’re all safe now. It’s dead, I killed it. You, and the knights, and Gwen, and Gaius, you’re all back here now, you’re safe.”

But was Merlin ever in any significant danger? He has his magic, there’s no way he would’ve been as easy a target as the others. Did he—did he draw attention to them by being himself and being there? Did she take the others because of him?

“Whatever you’re thinking,” comes Gwen’s stern voice, “stop it. Stop blaming yourself for things you can’t control.”

She gives him a pointed look and gestures to their entwined hands.

“Even you can’t fix everything, Merlin.”

“But I should’ve been able to fix this,” Merlin argues, his face contorting, “I should’ve—I—“

“And what would you have done, Merlin,” Arthur asks softly, “what could you do?”

Merlin’s blood runs cold. Next to him, even Gwen makes a little noise.

“No,” Arthur says firmly, “what could you have done? If you’re so intent on blaming yourself, what could you have done to make a difference?”

“Arthur!”

“Come on, Gwen, don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt you to see Merlin try and carry the whole world on his shoulders!” Arthur folds his arms and leans against the poster of the bed. “Tell us, Merlin, why should you be held accountable?”

“Arthur enough.” Gwen’s voice rings in the chamber as Merlin hides his head shamefully. “He’s already upset, he doesn’t need you to make it worse.”

“Don’t—“ he swallows heavily— “don’t fight, please. Don’t fight, not now.”

“We’re not fighting, Merlin,” comes Arthur’s soft voice again, followed by a warm hand cupping his cheek, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Why don’t you go get dinner then,” Gwen says, only a little less frosty, “as part of your apology.”

Arthur only sighs and does as bid. As soon as the door closes, Gwen leans forward and wraps him in a tight hug, letting him gasp heavily into her shoulder.

“Shh, shh,” she whispers, carding a soothing hand through his hair, “shh, Merlin, it’s alright, I’d never give up your secret, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“He—he asked, Gwen, I—I can’t—what if he knew?”

“I would never let anyone hurt you,” she promises fiercely, “you know I wouldn’t. That includes Arthur.”

“I won’t be able to keep from telling him someday, Gwen!”

“And when that day comes, I will be by your side and he will get down on his knees and thank you for all that you’ve done.”

“He won’t, Gwen. He’ll be so angry.”

Gwen pulls back enough to take his face in her hand. “He may be. For an instant. And then he will thank you. And you know he cares for you far too much to truly be angry at you.”

Merlin’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, Merlin—“ she pulls him back into her embrace— “I’ve got you, honey, it’s alright.”

“Alright, so I’ve got dinner, how are we—Merlin?”

There’s the sound of plates clattering to the table and rapid footsteps before another strong set of arms surround him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” comes Arthur’s warm concern, “what’s so bad? I’m sorry if I pushed too hard, I worry, shh, it’s alright, don’t cry.”

Gwen presses a kiss to his forehead as Arthur’s arms slip lower to wrap around his waist.

“We’re right here, Merlin, we won’t leave you.”

“You’re safe, sweetheart, I’ll look after you, we both will.”

“Shh, shh, honey, it’s okay.”

Merlin buries his head in the crook of Arthur’s neck and sobs. Arthur lets out a comforting noise and his hand comes up to cup the back of his head. He strokes gently, finding the soft spot that makes all of Merlin’s muscles relax on cue. Arthur moves the boneless pile of Merlin to the bed proper, scooping the man into his lap and letting Gwen shift close enough to lay her head between both of them.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Gwen promises, her hand wiping away one of Merlin’s tears, “you can cry, we’ll be right here.”

Arthur’s chin comes to rest on top of Merlin’s head, creating a little bubble of intimacy here, in his arms, sheltered in the lea of him. Merlin is taller than him—a fact he never lets Arthur forget—but the way he’s curled in on himself lets Arthur wrap protectively around him.

There is nowhere safer in Camelot.

After a long while, Gwen pulls away, murmuring something about making sure the food doesn’t spoil. As she vanishes behind the curtain, Arthur slowly shifts to sit Merlin on the end of the bed, sliding off to stand in front of him.

“Shh,” he hushes when Merlin whines in protest, “I’m just grabbing the handkerchief. I need to wipe your face off.”

Gentle fingers tip his chin up and the cloth is soft against his face. Arthur is patient, patting and dabbing up the mess and leaning down so Merlin can wrap his fingers in his tunic.

“There,” he murmurs eventually, setting the handkerchief aside and cupping Merlin’s face in his hands, “a little redder than normal, but other than that…”

Merlin swats halfheartedly at him. Arthur chuckles before he pulls away. Merlin opens his mouth to ask where he’s going when—

His mouth hangs when Arthur lowers himself carefully to his knees in front of him.

“I truly didn’t mean to scare you,” Arthur says in a hushed voice, taking Merlin’s hands in his, “earlier. I just wanted you to see that you—you don’t have to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. You’re still human, Merlin.”

“Arthur—what—what are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done long ago.” Arthur’s mouth tugs up. “You and Gwen aren’t quite as quiet as you think you are, you know that?”

Merlin’s eyes widen. “You—you heard?”

In response, Arthur takes Merlin’s hands and presses them to his chest, squeezing lightly. His smile softens.

“Thank you, Merlin,” he whispers and the words sink deep into Merlin’s chest, “and no, this wasn’t your fault either.”

“How—how long have you known?”

“I’ve suspected since the troll,” Arthur murmurs, standing and pulling Merlin back into a cuddle, “and I’ve never been angry since the Cup of Life.”

He squeezes Merlin gently.

“So don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart,” he whispers, “or else.”

Merlin sobs out a laugh, clutching desperately at Arthur, not angry Arthur, not upset Arthur, warm Arthur, caring Arthur, safe Arthur. “Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll have to make you take care of yourself.” Arthur scrubs his knuckles lightly over Merlin’s head. “So go sit with Gwen and we’ll eat or I’ll carry you there.”

He pulls back, just enough that he can see Merlin’s face and pat his cheek.

Merlin swallows. “Is that a threat?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “You asked for it.”

Gwen looks up when Arthur carries a Merlin to their dinner table and sits him down, reaching to take his hand and place it in hers. She giggles, pulling Merlin close enough to kiss his forehead, looking at his smile.

“That’s much better,” she notes, “now eat. You’ve had a long day.”

He’s had a long few days, honestly.

But as he starts to eat, as he and Arthur trade quips across the table, as Gwen’s hand stays warm in his, he may be able to rest tonight.

#merthur #merthur fic #merlin x gwen x arthur #don't know their ship name off the top of my head #fic #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #dragonbabbles

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amazingphilza · 3 years

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snapchat :: c!tommy x reader

fluff / angst , platonic , gender neutral ! first request whoop whoop :D [check pinned for more info on requests]

synopsis: ‘what’s so bad about adding every person on snapchat?’ tommy thought. unknowingly, with all the other people he begins talking to during exile, one ends up being you; tubbo’s younger sibling. that is until you both visit tommy in logstedshire.

cw: i purposely misspell a few words for the texting part, i hope it’s still readable for y’all! and i haven’t actually used snapchat in years so let’s pretend i know what i’m doing :)

tommy smiled at his brand new phone

first thing he does? install snapchat and reddit

if he couldn’t talk to his best friends face to face anymore, at least he had people online to talk to, right?

tommy hoped from all his possessions dream would destroy, he could at least keep a phone

without much thought, tommy opened snapchat and began adding every account and messaging them the same obnoxious message

BE MY FRIEND . MESSAGE BACK NOW.

most people chose ignore tommy, not having a clue why he was messaging them

but as for you, when you had the notification that someone added you on snapchat and started aggressively messaging you, it made you curious

you read their user

“wife haver”?? huh???

instead of immediately blocking the person, you replied back

what?

not even less than a second later you get a reply back

OH MY GOD FINALLY SOMEONE

IM DYING

without context, you were more than confused

genuinely dying is very alarming but you shouldn’t text a random stranger your last words

huh?

THE GREEN BASTARD TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME

YOURE ALL I HAVE LEFT

plwase helo

Help

where did tou go

Ohm hgod

hHello?

NOOOO NOT YOU TOO

PLEASR

you laughed at the person’s desperation and ignored the messages

if the stranger wasn’t going introduce themselves, you wouldn’t either

however, after a while you realized you had over 100 snapchat notifications within an hour of trying to ignore the person

however it was just jumbled up words and useless spam, nothing important

as if the stranger would said anything important to your concern anyway

do you ever shut up??

fuck you

a normal person wouldve taken offense by these messages but you found them quite amusing

it wasn’t like you had anything else better to do

and this acceptance was the start of your odd friendship with the stranger

you were still on edge because you had no idea who they were and their intentions but the anonymity was mutual nonetheless

if the desperate spamming “wife haver” isn’t going to formally tell you who they actually were, you weren’t going to risk exposing yourself first

but in the past few weeks, you and the person had normal conversations apart from the first day they messaged you

well as normal as you could’ve expected from someone named “wife haver”

they were the first to send an actual snap as well

that was when you found out the “wife haver” was an obnoxious boy that looked around your age, maybe a slightly older

he had sent you a photo of him holding a thumbs up and trying to smile when he was clearly upset

just got all my stuff exploded again, feeling good

you noticed his messy blonde hair and tattered clothes

what the hell happened to this guy?

part of you was confused, and the other was concerned

u good bro??

well

i don’t have anymore tools and materials if that’s anything

so no

this is shit

lmao it was probably deserved

FUCK YOU!!!!!

im kidding that’s sad

but like do u actually need stuff?

you contemplated sending your next message and thought of the consequences

but in the end, you were probably better off than him so if he did try to do something suspicious, you could easily just leave with your trident or defend yourself

i can bring some things over if you’d like

please oh my god it’s so boring here

where the hell do you even live???

it finally hit that you would be visiting this mysterious person

you never really had much to do during the day and he had nothing against your enchanted netherite armor when compared to his worn-out clothes

you were surprised that he was quick to be comfortable with you visiting him so continued to message the boy

if you live nearby i can just stop over and bring some spare diamond tools and armor if you’d like or smth

DIAMOND !,?’/:@!?:/-',(

ya sure lol

WTF

GOOD SHIT LAD! THANKS

WHEN DO U WANT TO VISIT???

his shock and excitement made you smile

maybe this wasn’t a bad idea

before replying, you quickly ran to your storage room you gather your spare items

instead of normally texting, you decided to take a picture of all the enchanted tools and armor and send back a snap

i’m down for tomorrow, turn on your snapmaps so i can come by ;D

he quickly replied back with handfuls of ‘holy shits’ and ‘YEAHS’

you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear which caught the attention of your older brother who had just walked in to get blocks from the wall of chests

“ew why are you smiling at your phone like that?”

“oh shut up, tubbo”

“it’s weird”

you roll your eyes at him in a playful matter

“whatever! i’m gonna be out tomorrow to visit a friend, okay?”

“you have friends? wow, sounds like a first”

“you’re such a dick!!” you yell at him whilst trying to hold in your laughter

“oh yeah? go on, tell me about this friend of yours then. meeting strangers online, hm?”

“if you’re so concerned, you can come with if you’re not busy with whatever a president does. i promise they’re not some weirdo like you”

tubbo’s tone was sarcastic but he agreed then left you to your own thoughts

you were excited for tomorrow that you were restless in your bed when nighttime had came

somehow you managed to fall asleep from tiredness in the middle of the night

soon enough it was morning

before doing anything, you checked your phone and went through all your notifications

you then checked snapchat, browsing snapmaps and realized how far you had to travel

despite the long travel, you brought yourself up from your bed and gathered all the items you were going to bring

you stuffed a full set of enchanted diamond armor, tools, and over a stack of golden carrots all in your inventory

after finishing all your preparations, you searched for your older brother

with just a loud yell of his name he appeared almost instantly

“you ready to go, tubbo?”

“yep! you know where you’re going right?”

you scoffed at the question

“of course!”

and with that, the two of you traveled on foot until you reached the ocean

you had brought 2 boats with you knowing that you couldn’t imagine being in the same boat as your brother; it would’ve ended up in endless bickering

after a while of being at sea, tubbo started to become impatient

“what the hell! how far does this person live, y/n??”

“i dunno!”

you knew the general direction you were supposed to be going to after studying your snapmaps all morning but you couldn’t check how much farther it would take to get there; there was obviously no signal in the middle of the ocean

it felt like forever before you saw land in the horizon

suddenly you regained all the energy you have lost from rowing

“there!! that place with the white tent, i can barely see it”

“finally”

with the burst of energy, you got to land in no time

the moment you got off your boat, the blonde spotted the two of you and ran in your direction

once appearing nearly feet apart, he stared at your brother who also had the shocked expression

“TOMMY?”

“TUBBO?”

your brother had more of a confused expression whilst the other boy seemed a bit mad

maybe he was always mad considering the endless conversations you had with him ranting about some ‘green bastard’

but tubbo quickly got defensive, stepping in front of you

you didn’t understand how they knew each other beforehand, but at the same time you never caught up with tubbo’s friends either

you needed answers

“what’s going on?”

“y/n! you were messaging tommy this whole time? why didn’t you tell me?”

tubbo was clearly frustrated and a feeling of guilt washed over you

it didn’t click that you never exchanged names and admitting it did not seem believable

tubbo was in complete shock, trying to process everything that was happening

“WHAT?! AND HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING?”

you mumbled out your words

“a few weeks, i can’t remember”

“uh, yeah sorry” tommy had confirmed your statements. “i didn’t even know you had a sibling, tubbo! i actually didn’t know their name until now as well..”

“HUH??”

“but if i knew i was messaging a tub-ling, i wouldn’t have in the first place!”

“what the fuck tommy!!!”

“no, but how do you even know each other?” you had interrupt the two

tubbo had chosen his words carefully

“we’re... friends”

tommy had seemed upset at this

“tubbo....”

“no, don’t talk to me, tommy. you were exiled for a reason. y/n? give him the stuff you wanted to him and let’s go, this was a waste of time”

you were saddened but obliged, you didn’t want to anger your brother even more

“fuck you, tubbo! can’t believe this was how you visit me for the first time, i don’t even want your pity shit”

before you could react, tubbo led you to the back of his boat

he got in the front and quickly rowed away from the land you barely stayed on, leaving your boat behind on the shores

you looked back at tommy who already had left back to his tent

the boat ride was silent and full of sorrow until you arrived back at l’manburg

once you got home you immediately opened snapchat to message tommy

hey tommy i’m really sorry about today. i had no idea,,,

you thought he would’ve ignored your message but instead replied right after

but your heart sank at reading the message

it’s fine

i think it’s best we stop talking y/n

you didn’t want to lose a friend so quickly but after all the tension from today, you didn’t know how to come back from it

so instead of arguing you agreed, even if it wasn’t honest

yeah, me too

and that was the last message you sent to tommy

even though the whole situation was confusing from the start, it didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy the random conversations you had

the bizarre encounter was unforgettable

it made you even sadder when you realized the first time you two used each other’s names through text would also be the last

a/n: ngl, i didn’t think i would finish this on a kinda angsty ending but here we are! and grrr it’s 4am and i just wanted to finish this,, let’s hope there aren’t that many grammar mistakes LMAO anyway i hope y’all enjoyed <3

#tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit imagine #tommyinnit fanfic #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfic #mcyt imagine

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floral-force · 3 years

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Knight in Beskar Armor - Chapter 8

A Hunter's Embrace

words: 5k

warning: smut/NSFW/18+ ONLY (unprotected sex) content ahead--please check tags!

a/n: I wrote this from Din's POV! I wanted to try switching it up, and I liked how this felt. Let me know what you think!

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“Princess, princess,” he whispered, gently nudging the sleeping form next to him. “Wake up.”

She started to slowly turn her head, but before she could look at his face, he clamped his hand down over her eyes. The Mandalorian had fallen asleep next to the princess, and he was helmetless.

“My eyes are closed now, Mando,” she smiled and rolled over, and his hand moved down to cup her face. “How’d you sleep?”

“Mmm, I slept well,” he mumbled, sleep tinting his voice. “What about you, Princess?”

“I also slept well,” she said. “It was good to sleep next to you.”

He wished she could see the smile on his face. Hers was bright and beautiful, lighting up any room she was in. Waking up next to her was better than he’d expected, even if they were squished together on his cot with Grogu above them. It was almost domestic, and it scared him. He hadn’t intended to get so close to the Princess of Naboo; he was hired by her father to protect her, not pleasure her.

“I’m glad,” he said. “We should be arriving at Corellia soon.”

“Well,” she yawned. “Better start getting up, Mandalorian.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

He punctuated his sentence with a kiss, making her giggle and tangle her hands in his hair, stealing a few more kisses from him before he finally left the rack, taking his helmet off the shelf and closing the panel to the rack so she didn’t have to worry about seeing his face. As he took a quick shower in the fresher, he thought about her face while she had sucked his cock. Her eyes had filled with tears, wide and searching for his through his visor. He wished he could have met her gaze with his, no helmet filtering their connection. Even thinking about it right now was making him hard.

He was about to be on a hunt; he couldn’t have any distractions. So, he decided to start to stroke his half-hard cock, water streaming down his skin. He closed his eyes and thought about the princess and her mouth. She had taken him so well, every inch in her pretty little mouth, swallowing him whole. He grunted as he started to speed up his strokes, his cock already throbbing. Ever since that night in the garden he’d been thinking about how her lips would fit perfectly around his cock, how it would be so easy to silence her sharp tongue and have her use it to give him pleasure instead of retorts.

The Mandalorian’s hand reached out to touch the shower wall, steadying himself as he came closer to climax. Fuck, he wish he would’ve taken her after filling her mouth with his cum. Pushing her down on the floor to fuck her while she looked into his eyes. Filling that pretty royal pussy with his thick cock, making her moan and beg. He thought about her moaning his name—Din, Din, Din—as he snapped his hips, urging her to finish with him, begging him to join her on the edge—

He groaned her name when his cock throbbed and spilled thick white ribbons on the shower floor, his eyes squeezed shut while his mind reeled from pleasure. Having that princess around was dangerous, not just for hunts, but for his own sex drive. His self-control was strong, yes, but sometimes his lust was enough to strangle it. His hunt on Corellia was going to be good for him.

Mando toweled off and left the fresher to retrieve his armor, not even bothering to wrap his towel around his waist. He was quick opening the armory, on edge in case he heard the rack panel open. He suited up, and before he placed his helmet back on, he looked at himself in the fresher mirror. Maybe it was a good thing the princess couldn’t see his face—she couldn’t see the lines from years of hunting, the furrows in his brow from frustration, and the circles under his eyes that lingered after nearly losing the child. She was young and vibrant, a millaflower in bloom. He was a battle-worn bounty hunter that jumped from one quarry to the next, polishing his beskar and tending his wounds between each. If he ever took his helmet off—something that he doubted would ever happen—he wouldn’t blame her if she rejected him.

“Mando? Mando? Are you almost done?”

The sound of her muffled voice and knocks on the rack panel yanked him out of his thoughts. Din quickly put his helmet on and rushed over to the rack, opening it to see the child nestled in the princess’s arms, cooing, and playing with her hair. She was smiling, and it tugged at his beskar heart just a bit. When she looked up at him, he felt a pang in his chest; it was going to be hard to leave her during his hunt.

“He likes you,” Din said, nodding at the child.

She looked at the wiggling green baby in her arms. “I suppose he has warmed up to me quite a bit since we first met.” She laughed when Grogu babbled. “He jumped down from his little hammock and hasn’t left my arms since.”

Din would have hugged her and Grogu, wrapping them in his arms, if it weren’t for the fact that they were about to leave hyperspace and land on Corellia. He stopped his heart from growing too soft at the scene, instead clearing his throat.

“The ship is going to leave hyperspace. We’ll land on Corellia soon,” he said, noticing how her smile slowly dropped.

She nodded, setting the child down on the cot despite his complaints. “I’ll get changed.”

“Be quick,” he said as she walked to the fresher, taking clothes with her. “You need to be strapped in when the Crest leaves hyperspace and breaks the atmosphere.”

“I’ll hurry.”

Din looked down at the child, scooping him into his arms. He let out a quiet sigh; he knew he’d upset the princess, but he couldn’t let their attraction come between his bounties. He needed the credits now that he had another mouth to feed—he couldn’t afford to get distracted or go soft.

When he got to the cockpit, he set Grogu down in the copilot’s seat, handing him his favorite metal ball before he could snatch it himself. Din chuckled as he prepped the Crest up for the drop, watching the nav panel and waiting on the princess to arrive. When she did, she was in another pair of black leggings, this time wearing a short-sleeved purple tunic, a belt knotted around her waist. He noticed that her hair was in braids as she looked at him, strapping into her seat and twiddling her thumbs.

The Crest left hyperspace with a jolt and Corellia came into view, white clouds encircling its blue and earthy surface. Din alerted his docking contact with the push of a few buttons, and when he received the transmission to enter Corellia’s atmosphere, he guided the Crest into it. The Crest made a bumpy entry into Corellia, and the Mandalorian winced when he heard the princess sharply inhale. Finally, they reached smoother air, and he managed to land the ship on his contact’s docking platform, quietly groaning when he saw droids approach his ship.

Din pointed at Grogu. “You, stay in the crib. And you,” he pointed at the princess, “You stay on the ship with him.”

“I can’t leave with you?”

“Absolutely not.” He left the cockpit and she followed him, standing behind him as he gathered weapons. He turned to look at her when he’d gathered enough detonators and ammunition for this hunt, slinging his rifle over his back.

She put her hands on her hips, squinting at him. “Not even to stay in a hotel?”

“No.” Din moved over to stand in front of the ramp, and he heard her tiny footsteps following behind him. “We need to maintain a low profile.”

She stamped her foot, and his head snapped to look at her. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were tired, and he almost felt bad that he had to hold his ground on this. He didn’t know if anyone was after her, and he also couldn’t risk having her be a distraction during this hunt. Din knew she wasn’t used to life on the Crest, and that she wasn’t used to not getting her way. She was spoiled—and he wouldn’t give in every time she wanted something.

“Mandalorian,” she said, the ramp lowering. “What do you expect me to do while you’re gone?”

He shrugged. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Someone is just trying to outrun a debt they owe.”

With that, he stepped down the ramp, giving her one last glance before leaving her and the child behind. Once he was on the ground, he raised the ramp again, not wanting his contact to get a chance to look inside, or allow the princess to slip off the ship.

“Ah, Mando!”

Din’s head turned and he saw a teal Twi’lek step out of the shadows, a few repair droids trailing behind him.

“Inun Olan,” Din replied, walking towards him. “Thank you for letting me dock.”

Inun clasped Mando’s arm. “Not to worry, my friend. It’s the least I can do after the many times you’ve saved my skin.”

“How much do I owe you?” he said, pulling out a pouch of credits.

“For you? First night is free.”

The Mandalorian opened the pouch and tried handing Inun 300 credits, but he forced them back into the pouch, shaking his head.

“I have to get going,” the Mandalorian said, pulling out his tracking fob. “No droids.”

Inun nodded, sending his repair droids back into the building. “Whatever the Mandalorian wants, I shall give him.”

Din nodded and left the dock, resolving to make this hunt a quick one. It wouldn’t be hard to find a Gran on Coruscant, anyways—although it was a densely populated planet, people would recognize one right away. It was foolish of the bounty to think he could hide out here; if anything, it made his job easier. He’d probably started off running to a shipyard, hoping for transport. The tracking fob in his palm blinked, and he began to plot out his course.

This hunt wouldn’t keep him far from the princess and the child.

So, the Mandalorian may have made a miscalculation.

Usually quarries that owed a debt weren’t being pursued by more than two hunters at a time, and normally neither hunter ran into each other. The bounty simply wasn’t worth enough credits to fight if one had gotten to the quarry first.

After a kick in his chest plate, the Mandalorian wondered if Karga had misinformed him—was this bounty more than an indebted Gran on the run? The red Palliduvan hunter tried to shoot him once again, but her shot missed when he rolled behind cargo crates. She was a good shot; he couldn’t take any chances with testing how good her aim was. His only choice was to rush her and force her to fight hand-to-hand.

He shot rockets off towards her and jumped back out when he heard her swear after being hit, her rifle clattering to the ground. His fist connected with her jaw, and she snarled before flipping and kicking him away again, trying to grab the blaster on her hip. Before she could get any further, he took her wrist and twisted it, pushing her back and away from his body in case she decided to use her fingers to try to claw at him.

“Who sent you for the Gran?” he growled.

She laughed, her sharp teeth red with her own blood. “A Gran? I’m worth more than some low-caliber job. I’m here for the princess.”

Oh, fuck.

When she noticed the Mandalorian’s hesitation, she struggled again, and his free hand moved to wrap around her neck, squeezing hard enough to discourage further attempts of escape. She sneered at him again, and under his helmet his lips twisted into a snarl.

“I heard she was with you—some pretty young thing from Naboo,” she gasped when he squeezed her throat, applying more pressure. “There’s a bounty on her head, Mando. And you’re in the way.”

She punctuated her sentence with a kick square in his chest, one last attempt at escaping and grabbing her blaster. He was quicker, though; he slammed her to the ground, knocking her unconscious on the dirty ground of the shipyard ally. When she didn’t move, he finally stood up, binding her wrists and snatching her weapons off the ground. He couldn’t risk her waking up and tracking him again.

As he stalked off to the Gran’s location, he ran through this new information. There were people on the hunt for the princess. A part of him had known this since the night he’d swept her away from Naboo; there was no way that whoever assassinated the king had planned on stopping with him. Even when he’d been briefed by the king, he’d been warned that it wouldn’t stop with his death, and that people were going to be on the hunt for her neck—the neck the Mandalorian had held tight and kissed gently.

Telling her was going to be...tricky. He had to convey the very real danger she was in—danger that had made his heart stop and his blood freeze—without alarming her so much that she shut down. As he dragged the Gran back to the crest—he was begging so much that Din had stunned him—he came up with a way to delicately break the news that there were hunters after her. Din was shaken by the news. He’d figured the assassin wouldn’t stop with her father, but he supposed he’d forgotten about that in favor of remembering how the princess tasted on his tongue.

When her father had commissioned him to protect her, Din hadn’t realized how imminent of a threat there was to the royal family, nor how deadly it truly was. He also hadn’t realized how he’d be pulled towards the princess, a spark between them strong enough to start a fire. He’d been pulled toward her like a moth to a flame, his wings burning bright in her fiery eyes. Seeing her in the garden was an accident—he’d been drawn towards its opulence, not used to something so grand and full within the confines of brick and mortar. He hadn’t been able to sleep in his quarters, craving the tiny rack and the gentle snores of Grogu above him. After seeing her, he stayed up even later fantasizing about pinning her down right there and pleasing her, trapping her in his embrace, making her submit to him. Looking at her bathed in moonlight made him understand that the garden wasn’t the only beautiful thing confined in the palace.

“Mando—back so soon?” Inun’s voice boomed, his arms open.

“It was an easy chase.” He tossed a few more credits into the Twi’lek’s hand. “Quarries that owe a debt don’t think with their head.”

Inun laughed. “Well, my friend, your ship is repaired and fueled for your next hunt.”

“Thank you,” Din said, looking down at the Gran that was beginning to stir.

Inun nodded, and Mando ascended the Crest’s ramp.

Once inside the ship, he scanned for the princess, catching her and the child’s heat signature in the rack. He was silent when he dragged his bounty to the carbonite freezing chamber, encasing the Gran in carbonite, a terrified expression frozen on its face. When the Mandalorian turned around, he saw the princess, distressed and holding the child in her arms. Her hair was a mess, her feet bare and legs exposed. She was in the old shirt he’d given her when she had first met him. It made his cheeks flush, and he was thankful yet again for his helmet.

“W-what was that?” she stuttered, looking from him to the frozen Gran.

“Carbonite. Clients like their bounties alive. So, I freeze them.” He scooped Grogu out of her arms, and the child gurgled, which made her chuckle. “How was her?”

“So very sweet,” she smiled, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “I could tell he missed you, he wouldn’t let go of me.”

Din handed the child back to her and strode over to the cockpit ladder, and he was happy to hear the princess’ tiny footsteps follow him. They were going to jump back into hyperspace to get to Nevarro—he’d only taken one bounty from Karga, mainly because he wasn’t sure how much the princess could handle. As she stood next to his pilot seat, strapping Grogu in, he could smell the flowers on her skin, her scent almost intoxicating to him after the scent of fuel had burned his nostrils during the hunt. The jump into hyperspace passed without a word between them, the child’s tiny gurgles and the Crest’s groans the only noises reaching their ears. It didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable; it felt like there was a small understanding between them now. When it had developed, Din didn’t know. Maybe while he was gone, the princess had had some sort of realization. He hated that he was going to knock her back to where she had started—scared and kicking him as he carried her away from danger.

He decided to break the news after finishing his rations. Grogu had finally settled down in his crib in the cockpit, calm now that his father was back with him. Din replaced his helmet and gathered his nerves as he left the cockpit to approach the princess, who was laying on her back in the rack, her knees bent and legs kicking off the edge of it. For the first time in a while, she looked relaxed. It made him feel even worse about telling her that she was in danger.

He called her name and she sat up on her elbows, smiling gently at him. He thought back to the garden and how terrified she had looked at the sight of him. Something inside of him fluttered, but he crushed it quickly. “Princess, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Mando?” her smile morphed into concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, the bounty was easy,” he knelt in front of her between her legs, looking up at her.

“Oh, good. I was worried.”

He took a deep breath, hoping she didn’t hear it. “Princess, there are bounty hunters after you.” Her face went white. “You’re in danger.”

“W-why do they want me?” she whispered, crossing her arms, her fingers digging into her flesh.

“Whoever wanted your father dead didn’t want to stop with him,” he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and he heard her breath catch in her throat. “I thought I was safe with you.”

“You are.” He grabbed her hand, making her jump and stare down at him. “You are.”

“Mando…” she whispered, tears slipping out of her eyes.

He murmured her name, sweeping her into his arms. He felt her shoulders shake as she sobbed into his armor, her hands gripping his pauldrons to remind herself that he was there beneath her, surrounding her and embracing her. It hurt him to see her hurt like this, and it hurt more knowing he was the source of it. His armor was cracking, but for some reason, he didn’t mind. As he held the shaking princess, all he wanted was to kiss her and make her forget her pain for a moment. But the thought of admitting that was something that deeply unsettled him. So instead, he held her tight, rubbing small circles on her back, and stroking her hair until she quieted and sat back, staring at her lap, back against the rack panel.

“We’re going back to Nevarro,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll turn the quarry in, and we can make a plan.”

She nodded. “Do you still want me with you?”

“I swore to protect you.”

“I don’t want to endanger you.”

“Princess,” he chuckled. “I’ve handled worse.”

He flinched when her fingers reached out and brushed his helmet. “I suppose you have.”

He took her wandering hand in his and she weakly smiled at him, her cheeks still stained red from her sobs. She looked like a weeping angel, a maiden in mourning, a beauty that carried herself with grace despite it all. Before she could react, he was peeling off his armor, tossing pieces off haphazardly, ignoring the clangs of beskar on the floor of the Crest in favor of her excited giggles. It was music to his ears, and such a welcome sound after hearing her cries.

He took her in his arms, laying her on her back. The red on her cheeks was no longer due to tears—it seemed her eagerness was showing on her skin. Her hands pressed on his chest, picking at the fabric that covered his skin.

“The kid needs you here,” Din said, stopping his tongue from slipping.

She smirked. “The kid needs me here?”

“He likes you.” The Mandalorian thought about how Grogu looked nestled in her arms, smiling up at her. It was burned into his memory, and it was something he didn’t want to forget any time soon.

“He likes me.” Her hands traveled down his torso, tugging on the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a bit of his golden skin.

“Yes.”

He suppressed a shiver when she pulled his shirt up further, the cold air of the Crest hitting his skin and amplifying the warmth from her hands. All he could do was stare at her and memorize the way she looked in this moment. Maybe he didn’t want to fuck her; maybe he wanted to just remain above her, hands by her ears, keeping her in his trap as he committed every curve of her body to memory.

“Close your eyes, mesh’la.”

She immediately did as told—so obedient—a gentle smirk on her face as he took off his helmet and shirt. He felt her jump when his lips met hers, then moaned when her hands cupped his face. She was so touchy, so insistent upon knowing every line and bump on his face, every hidden story in his skin. It made him kiss her more, his tongue exploring her mouth as one of his hands crept between her legs, cupping the heat between them. She gasped into his mouth, rolling her hips ever-so slightly.

“Can I taste you, princess?”

She nodded—yes, yes, yes, please, Mando—and gave him one last kiss before he pulled her shirt up and over her head, revealing her perky tits. Her hands tangled in his hair as he bit and kissed her chest, relishing every gasp and whimper when he sucked on her nipples and sucked her delicate skin hard enough to leave a mark—his mark. Just hearing her voice and listening to her needy moans was enough to make his cock throb and leak, but he had work to do.

He sat back and roughly pulled her pants off, and gently slid her panties off, noticing the damp patch that her arousal had created. Instead of tossing them to the side, he smirked, leaning back over her.

“Princess, you already made a mess, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she whined, her fingers curling around his wrist, urging his hand down and off her face.

He held steady though. “Taste how wet you already are.”

She gasped when he stuffed her panties into her mouth, and fuck, she looked pretty gagged. Din had found another way to silence the princess, and he was quite pleased with himself. He licked down from her sternum to the top of her mound, stopping before going any further. Her body arched up to meet his wet tongue, his fingers digging into her thighs, pushing her legs open to reveal her cunt. When he pulled back her folds, he chuckled. She was already soaking wet for him, already on the edge. Her begs for his tongue were muffled but he could tell she was on the brink of tears—so needy for her knight. And who was he to deny his princess?

When his tongue licked slowly around her clit, she arched up, her hand tugging his hair. He couldn’t help himself; he slid his tongue into her scorching hot, soaking slit, and moaned when he tasted her. She moaned so loud that Din was proud of himself for gagging her—it was sexy and practical. The princess was soaking his tongue, and he loved the taste of her. He needed more than this, though. He needed to feel how wet she was on his aching cock. He’d been wanting it for too long—he needed to have it.

She cried when he pulled his mouth away, but she sighed when he easily slipped two fingers inside of her, curling up and pressing against the soft spot inside of her cunt.

“Does my princess like daddy filling her like this?” He smirked when she nodded, moaning. “Does she want more?”

When she nodded again, he pulled her panties out of her mouth, and replaced them with the two fingers that had been inside of her. He groaned when she worked her tongue around his fingers, his free hand palming his length through his pants. When his patience ran out, he stood and got rid of the restricting fabric, his cock throbbing against her bare skin when he resumed his position above her, kissing her again. He lined himself up with her entrance, stroking her cheek before placing his hands beside her ears, admiring how gorgeous she looked beneath him—already such a mess for him.

“Do you want this, princess?” he asked, the tip of his cock teasing her wet entrance.

“Yes, Mando, please,” she whispered, her hands snaking up his torso and wrapping around his neck.

He slowly slid inside of her, moaning as he felt her cunt stretch around his thick length, watched her face as she took every inch until he was buried to the hilt. Din kissed her and began to slowly thrust, having to force himself to keep a steady pace because his cock was already aching and ready for release. He moaned her name, moving down onto his forearms. She felt better than he could have ever imagined—so tight, so wet, so warm—and he was trying so hard not to finish already, fuck—

“J-just like t-that—ah, fuck—yes—there, there,” she panted, her breath hitching as her walls fluttered around his cock.

“Like that, cyar’ika?” he said, sliding the head of his cock over a spot that was making her melt into the floor beneath him.

“Yes, Mando, yes, right fucking there—”

“Din,” he growled. “My name is Din. Say my fucking name, princess.”

“Din!” she cried. He sped up and embraced her, feeling her cunt begin to pulse around his cock, begging for his own release to join hers. Her face was buried in his neck, her mouth close to his ear. “Fuck, Din—you’re so good—just like that—stars, I’m gonna cum—I w-want you to fill me—fill me, please, Din—”

He moaned her name, his spend filling her pulsing cunt as she nearly shouted his name, their orgasms and voices in harmony. Their song of release filled the air of the Crest, and Din never wanted to let go of her, never wanted to forget how she looked—spent, flushed, happy—and how she felt around his cock and in his arms. He kissed her and repeated her name into her neck, feeling her quick pulse beneath his lips. She whined when he finally pulled his softening length out of her with a wet squelch—fuck, he’d have to clean that mess up—and he shushed her with a deep kiss, melding their burning mouths together. He sat up and scooped her into his arms, making her squeal, her back sticky with sweat and her face glistening. He carried her over to the rack, setting her down gently and snatching a pair of briefs.

“Are you going to get your son?” she mumbled, sitting up. “Because if so, I’m going to use the fresher.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek. “My perceptive princess.” He rose to his full height again, slipping the briefs on. “I’ll be back soon.”

He went up to the cockpit and lingered there for a little while, cradling Grogu in his arms and staring out at hyperspace. The small child snored softly, and Din couldn’t help his lips from curling into a gentle smile. He made his way back down to the rack, noticing the panel was closed. She was thoughtful; instead of risking seeing him, he could announce his arrival so she could close her eyes. It made his heart skip a beat—he’d never experienced that...kindness…before. He knocked, and the panel slid up.

Grogu only stirred slightly after being placed in his hammock, nestling into his blankets for warmth after losing his father’s. The princess was wearing his old shirt again, her legs exposed and the curve of her ass peeking out below the large garment. Din slid next to her, pressing her back into his chest, embracing her. It was where she belonged, and she knew it too, placing her hands over his and contentedly sighing.

“Get some rest Din,” she whispered, pulling the hand on her waist to her lips, kissing it.

For the first time in a long time, Din fell asleep quickly, and he dreamt of sweeping the princess off her feet for a dance at the ball, his cyar’ika resting in his arms as they spun around the ballroom.

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taglist: @andiesturgss

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winter-turtle · 3 years

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House Of Wolves - Chapter 1 - Winterturtle - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Peter Parker has been raised towards villainy by his parents for all his life. After a mission gone wrong, he is captured by the Avengers.

Tony Stark is a mechanic. He fixes things and now he's determined to fix this teenager that doesn't know any better.

The problem? Tony is a walking disaster when it comes to emotions. Another problem? He has only two weeks to succeed before Peter is taken away by Shield.

@multiverse-irondad-july

Chapter 1: Tipping The Scales

“Okay, how about this one – Elliot? No? Then… Lucas?”

Peter kept his face perfectly blank, the cool mask not giving anything away. He glanced at his hands shackled to the table, then around the dull grey interrogation room. Everything was grey – this room, his cell, even his clothes!

Why grey? It was just shitty black. He missed his black costume.

“Hmm, what about Thomas? You kinda look like you could be Tom.”

The name reading has been going on for days and it was slowly but steadily eating away at Peter’s nerves. When no one was interrogating him for information – which he would never willingly give away anyway – Barton sat down opposite of him and kept reading from various lists in an attempt to figure out his name. Of course, his name’s been already read several times, but as always, he didn’t react.

“Nathaniel?”

Oh God, if he wasn’t chained to that stupid table, he would’ve hit the man with something long time ago just to shut him up! Where the hell were his parents?

“Remember your training.”

That’s what they’d told him as they retreated and flew away to safety when it was clear there was no chance of winning. So Peter remembered his training – say nothing and stall for time until help arrives.

“We’ll come back for you.”

That was two weeks ago.

He was left to fend for himself against the Avengers. Seriously, Peter knew better than to question his parents’ decisions, but what were they thinking, attacking the Compound like that? Neither of his parents bothered to tell him why they were there in the first place.

“Just do as you’re told.”

It didn’t mean that he went down quietly. In the end, it took two super soldiers, two men in armor and one ex-assassin pressing on his pressure points to stop his trashing and hold him down.

“Kama- what the hell is this name? Kamakanaalohamailkalani?“

Peter couldn’t help himself but raise one eyebrow at that, giving the man his best are-you-stupid? look.

“Yeah, that probably is not it either,” the archer sighed. “But come on, boy, work with me here!”

Ah, yes. That’s what he’s been called ever since he got here. “Boy” or “kid” as Stark liked to call him. But what was he supposed to do? Say – yes, my name is Peter Parker, my parents are Richard and Mary Parker and we’re a family of villains. Would you like their phone number and an address where you can find them? Well, not like they had any permanent residence, but still. For all he knew, his parents could be anywhere.

Anywhere but here, busting him out of this place.

“You know, this would be a lot easier for all of us if you just told us your name.”

Peter kept staring. He was told he had very expressive face, hence why he wore full-face mask, so he took pride in managing to remain impassive for so long.

Barton rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, sighing. “I guess we’re not getting anywhere today too, huh?”

“This is the first smart thing you’ve said today.”

“Oh, so now you talk.”

Peter merely shrugged in response.

Don’t take him wrong, he did talk… occasionally. He just talked without saying anything important. Just empty words meant to get some form of reaction out of the group of heroes. And once they snapped… well, Peter could take it. He was trained.

The silence dragged on. It was Barton that broke it once again with another tired sigh. “Fine, let’s wrap this up.”

Besides slight rise of the corner of his lips, Peter didn’t show any other sign of satisfaction. They were getting tired, he knew. But on the other hand, the whole thing was wearing him down too. Even if not by much, there was more freedom back “home”. The thing he missed the most were-

Peter’s sense tingled.

The door opened and in walked Iron Man and Captain America. His entourage for today.

“You know the drill,” Stark said.

Peter knew the drill, he was good at following orders, but there was that look again. That stupid look on Stark’s face he couldn’t decipher even if his life depended on it.

He stood up. Three. Two. One. Stark pressed the button on his watch and the shackles fell from Peter’s wrists, granting him short-lived, though not complete relief. Invisible force pulled his arms behind his back, the ever-present bracelets on his wrists that he hated with his very being clicking together.

Yeah, the thing Peter missed the most were his powers. He’s had them since he could remember, so they were basically his second nature, yet these stupid bracelets somehow dampened them enough to reduce him to normal-powered teenager.

His stickiness was completely gone. His strength and physical abilities were rendered to that of any other regular fourteen-year-old. Well, at least his senses remained unchanged.

“Let’s go,” Rogers jerked his head towards the door. Peter moved and the three men got into the formation around him. Barton in front of him, Stark and Rogers behind him.

He didn’t really understand the necessity of three people escorting him to his cell. If he were to guess, he would say that they were trying to show him who’s in power here, which was pretty useless tactic in his opinion. It’s not like he could do anything with most of his strength gone.

Which was mostly his own fault anyway. He’d gotten impatient on his third day here and now he had to deal with consequences.

They just wrapped up another unsuccessful round of interrogation and were leading him to the cell, Rhodes and Wilson on the duty. Peter, confident in his memory of the place, decided to make a break for it.

He’d let them think that the handcuffs they slapped on him were strong enough to contain him. Peter glanced around, took a note of a position of the two men with him, as well as another two people that were in the room at the end of the long hallway.

It was now or never.

Out of his suit, Rhodes was definitely the weaker one because of his legs, which made him easier to deal with. Peter squashed down the feeling of guilt. He knew the man’s condition wasn’t his fault and honestly, it was impressive that he continued doing the hero work, but the young villain had to do what he had to do.

Explore any weakness. Show no mercy.

Exactly how he was taught.

Neither man had time to react as Peter spun to the left and hit Wilson strong enough to make him hit the wall, snapping the cuffs in the process. Rhodes had split second to react. It still wasn’t enough and Peter, though he would never admit it, hit him just enough to make him fall. Wasting no time, he took off running.

“Friday, sound alarm!” Peter heard Rhodes shout and sure enough, the alarm started to blare two seconds later.

He had to be fast.

The stairs leading to the exit came in view. So did another two people, blocking his path. Rogers and Romanov. It was easy to deduct by the body language that neither side would back down.

The fight was on.

Kicks and punches were traded and with the adrenaline coursing through Peter’s veins, he somehow managed to slip past the two. So close now-

“Out of the way, you two!”

Peter heard something click and the next thing he knew, he was curled on the ground at the base of the stairs, eyes squeezed shut and clutching his head in agony. He felt like he was submerged deep in the water and the only sound that reached him clearly was high-pitched ringing.

Someone was grunting and panting. Then he realized it was him.

Peter was vaguely aware of people approaching towards him as well as someone new running into the hallway. Then there were hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his head. Peter could’ve sworn that the next sound that left his mouth was a whimper. He curled into even tighter ball.

He really hoped he wasn’t crying too.

The hands let him go. “His ears are bleeding.” Even this up close, Peter could just barely make out Captain America’s voice.

There was more indistinguishable conversation around him and the last thing Peter remembered before passing out from pain – a blessing in disguise – was the sensation of cold bracelets clicking shut around his wrists.

And he’s worn those since.

Peter walked through the door of his cell. As much as he hated to admit it, all he could actually do now was to sit on his ass and wait for the rescue. Fighting them in his current state and with the stupid but amazing ceiling computer watching his every move would yield no results. The only time he fought them was when they didn’t respect his personal space and put their hands on his shoulders or back when they escorted him.

Thankfully, they’ve learned not to touch him quite quickly.

Peter stood in the middle of the cell, his back facing the trio of Avengers. His hands fell to his sides as the release button was pressed. Peter still didn’t turn around nor said anything. Two pairs of footsteps began to make the retreat. One stayed in place for five more seconds, then the door closed. That always happened only when Stark was with the group.

Interesting.

His eyes, more out of habit that anything else, roamed over the cell. Besides the cot built into the wall, the room consisted of a “bathroom” that was just a toilet, a shower and a sink hidden by a wall, a table with short bench bolted to the ground and a camera in top left corner.

His dinner, served on a paper plate as always, sat on the table, waiting for him. Peter sighed. There were only so many sandwiches one could eat before going crazy and Peter felt like he was reaching that point.

There was nothing for him to use. Perfect place to contain enhanced villain like him.

So, saving the food for later and with nothing better to do, Peter laid down on the cot, stared at the ceiling above him and waited.

For what?

He had no idea.

The kid – God, he was just a kid – looked at him with curiosity sparking behind those big brown eyes as Tony was making himself as comfortable as he could in the uncomfortable chair.

Time to commerce the plan.

As expected, the kid said nothing. And according to the plan, neither did Tony. Instead, he pulled out his Starkpad and directed all of his attention to the screen.

At least that was what it seemed like.

“Let me go to him next,” Tony had said on that morning. At his teammates’ inquiries about the reason, Tony merely shrugged. “We’ll never know until we try.”

Tony half-heartedly scrolled through various documents and the kid looked around the room every so often before returning his gaze to Tony. It felt like the teen was studying him.

The time he’s spent in the interrogation room hit fifteen-minute mark when Tony noticed the kid slightly shift in his seat. Twenty minutes and the kid shifted again. This was new development. Sure, when Tony’s watched older footage, the kid shifted every so often, but not in such a short span of time.

Twenty-five minutes and the kid released long, soft exhale through his nose. Tony was slowly getting where he wanted. Still, he kept scrolling.

Thirty minutes passed and this time the exhale was a bit louder. The shift was bigger too. Tony glanced up at the kid from underneath his lashes, then he returned his gaze to the device.

Throughout another thirty minutes, the kid grew more and more agitated, shifting in his seat almost every minute. He played with his fingers, soundlessly bounced his right leg, his jaw began to move as if he wanted to speak.

Which he will. Eventually.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Bingo.

One hour and fifteen minutes. Huh. Not great, not terrible. “Why should I? Do you feel talkative? I’ve heard you didn’t say much in the past three weeks,” he said without looking up.

The kid pressed his mouth into thin line, clenched his jaw and scowled.

Baby steps but hey! It was progress.

“This is annoying,” the kid muttered.

“How so?” He knew very well why. Contrary to popular belief, he knew exactly what he was doing. Well… this time, at least.

“Why are you here?”

The pauses between speaking shortened. Tony shrugged. The kid scoffed.

“I can imagine someone like you surely has something more important to do than to sit here with me and waste time.”

“And you are correct,” Tony replied. He looked up, smiling, “but hanging out with you in this lovely room gives me perfect excuse to not do any actual work. So, thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

The kid’s frown grew.

“Oh my God, just get on with it!” the kid shouted, the movement of his shoulders and the clang of the chains indicating that he wanted to throw his arms up in frustration.

Tony ignored him, which fueled the kid’s frustration more. Good. Frustration led to anger, and angry person is more likely to spill something without thinking.

“Why don’t you just get Black Widow down here if you’re not going to ask anything? You clearly have no idea what to do. She will know, she was an assassin after all. Still doesn’t mean her methods will work though.”

Now this got Tony’s attention. “What do you mean?” he asked as he set the Starkpad down on the table.

And there was the kid, scoffing again. He sure did that a lot. It was… actually kinda nice to see that there was a normal teenage attitude underneath that villain layer. “Come on, do you think I don’t know how this works? You’ll keep trying to make me talk, nicely first, but you’ll get tired of it eventually,” the kid leaned forward, his voice lowering with the next words. “And that’s when you go for different approach to get what you want.”

Tony’s brain screeched to halt. There was no time to school his expression back into neutral one fast enough; the kid already noticed, pleased smile spreading across his face. Like he just got it confirmed that he was right.

“What?” Tony managed to somehow say out loud, the task of forcing out the single word around the lump in his throat nearly impossible.

The kid rolled his eyes and leaned back into the chair. “Don’t play dumb.”

“No, seriously, I think I just misheard you.” This time, it was Tony’s turn to lean forward as he tapped his ear. “Because that sounded like an implication that we’re about to torture you for information.”

“And you won’t?” the kid asked, obviously not believing him.

“No! Geez, we’re heroes. We don’t do shit like that!”

“Everyone gets tired of the nice act over time. It’s practically human nature. You might as well get on with it,” he said matter-of-factly, waving his hand as much as the chain would allow. “It won’t work anyway. I’m trained.”

The way the kid seemed to treat it like some everyday annoyance made Tony sick to his stomach. Just what kind of environment did he grew up in? Tony could imagine only one way how one could be taught how to resist physical torture.

“Okay, hold on. Let me get this straight – you’re saying that you’re trained to resist torture.”

“Yes.”

“I assume your parents trained you?”

The boy in front of him smirked. Nobody should look that proud about something like that. “Kid… that’s called abuse,” Tony said carefully.

“Jesus Christ, Tones, what the hell did you hit him with?”

“I- just a sonic blast. I had no idea he would react like this. It was supposed to daze him, not make him bleed.”

Now it all made sense. The kid was clearly in incredible pain from the sonic blast, and yet he barely made a sound. No screaming in agony, just choked grunting and panting.

Tony’s had his fair share of torture. First in Afghanistan, then when he returned and his arc reactor was ripped from his chest and then several times he’s been captured since the beginning of his hero career. That didn’t mean he was used to it. And this kid had it done to him by his own parents.

The thought of Obadiah, someone he trusted, torturing him directly while saying it was for his own good was enough to cause his anxiety rise.

Dread began to seep into his body with a sudden yet simple realization; Tony’s been hurt so much, been through so much, it was a wonder he didn’t turn to villainy. He had the perfect set up. It would have been so simple to choose to do harm with his tech instead of good.

For a moment, he saw himself sitting in the kid’s place.

The two of them were so similar, yet so different.

“Abuse?” The kid snorted. “Yeah, right. Me. Abused.”

Tony sighed. “Kid, I don’t know what kind of life you’ve been living, but hurting their own children is not something normal parents do. At least the loving ones.”

That statement set off an unforeseen reaction. The kid puffed out his chest, anger dusting his cheeks with red. “They care about me,” he hissed, “and they’ll come for me any day now.”

“Same as they came for you in the past three weeks?” Tony snapped without meaning to.

The kid didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he glared down at the table. The sight sent a painful pang into Tony’s heart.

“I believe it’s been enough for today,” he said, the softness in his voice surprising him. “Come on.”

Surprises kept on coming because the kid went without any resistance. Tony half hoped that since he didn’t call anybody to help escort the young villain, but there was none. The kid kept his head down, unreadable expression on his face all the way until they got to the cell. Then he just stood in the middle of the room without doing anything.

Tony turned to leave.

“Peter.”

The word – spoken so silently Tony would have thought he had imagined it – made him stop just before he could fully close the door. “Come again?”

“Peter,” the kid said louder, still not facing him.

“Peter…” Tony repeated, drawling the word in clear way that he was waiting for more. For a moment, he expected the kid to remain silent, that he already said enough, but then-

“Parker.”

Tony smiled softly at the kid’s back. “Nice to meet you, Peter Parker.” This time the kid, Peter, didn’t reply. Tony took it as a cue to leave. “See you later, kid,” he said and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Tony, sprawled across the couch with his hands behind his head, grinned at his shocked teammates. “Yep,” he said, popping the p and doing his best to shove the other horrific revelation to the back of his mind. That can of worms could be opened later. “You heard that correctly. I got the kid’s name.”

“Well?” Sam gestured with his hand for him to spill already.

“His name is Peter.”

“What?!” Clint called out.

Natasha sighed. “Clint—”

“No, don’t take me wrong, but really? Peter?” the archer threw up his arms. “I read that name in five different lists. Five!Nameberry was my best friend for the past three weeks. I already started with lists of names from different countries. So far I went through German names, all Scandinavian names and I was about to move to Slavic—” Clint suddenly cut himself off, sat down and buried his face in his hands. “How did you managed to get a name out of him in only one session?”

The question came out more like a whine.

Tony shrugged. “Maybe I just know how to talk to him better.” And maybe he said nothing at all, but nobody had to know that. “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I think you already cracked him. Like that technique where CIA plays the same song over and over again and then you start skipping the parts, kicking the brain into overdrive.”

“All right, but did you get his last name too?” Steve asked.

“Oh yeah!” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “Parker.”

“I read that one too.”

“Oh, hush.”

Rhodey nodded to himself. “So, Peter Parker, huh?” he hummed to himself.

Bucky stiffened.

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What’s up?”

Bucky remained silent, staring at the wall with wide eyes, but seeing right through it.

Steve leaned closer, gently nudging his friend. “Buck?” he asked softly. “You know something, don’t you?”

“He was supposed to be dead,” Bucky replied as if he was in dream-like state. “All three of them were all supposed to be dead.”

“Okay, Barnes, that’s freaky,” Tony said. “You clearly know him.”

Bucky nodded. He swallowed thickly, then again when the lump in his throat refused to go away.

“Take it easy. Deep breaths,” Steve coaxed.

It took a minute, but eventually the man pulled himself together with one last inhale, his features set in determination. “About ten years ago, Hydra was working on one project. They were trying to recreate supersoldier serum, but with countless failures before, they decided to try something different.”

The room was completely silent, everyone listening to the story in interest.

“Cross-species genetics.”

“What species?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked Steve in the eye. “Spiders.”

“That would explain the powers,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

“Anyway,” Barnes continued, “Parkers, Richard and Mary, they showed up at the base one day to help with the research. But they didn’t come alone.”

The atmosphere in the room thickened.

“They had this little kid with them. A little boy with brown eyes and brown curly hair. He couldn’t be older than three.”

Even if it was expected, it didn’t make the revelation any easier. They all saw how Barnes started to behave when his time as the Winter Soldier came to haunt him.

Clint‘s face twisted into horrified grimace. Sam looked on the floor with somber look. Natasha, though her face betrayed nothing, slightly shifted on her feet. Steve’s chest rose with soundless inhale, his eyes closing.

Tony’s jaw set, anger burning in his chest. Another horror the kid went through.

Bucky let out pained chuckle, shaking his head in almost manic way. “I guess they wanted to start young since the previous test subjects, adults, all failed. They succeeded. And then… Parkers just disappeared a few days later, along with Hydra’s biggest success since me. They sent me after them.”

“I remember all of them.”

Those words spoken in Siberia echoed in Tony’s mind. In the end, the whole situation got resolved with words before anyone could get seriously hurt, but the bunker was completely trashed. To say that Tony had been angry would be an understatement. He’d been downright livid. It’d been a long couple of days, and with Ross breathing down his neck, that damn airport fight, Rhodey… it was a miracle he’d stopped himself before killing either Barnes or Rogers.

The relationship between him and Barnes was still strained though. The same went for his relationship with Steve. Luckily, both of them knew to give Tony space and not to push him.

“No survivors. That were the orders.” Bucky let out humorless laugh. “I tracked them down to this airport and… I brought the plane down. The wreckage wasn’t a pretty sight. Literal chunks of that plane were never found, same with the bodies. Hydra found traces of human blood, their blood, where the wing used to be, so they were satisfied.”

“They didn’t want Peter back alive? As much as I hate to say it, he was what they wanted,” Steve said.

“I agree with Spangles,” Tony nodded. “Seems pretty counterproductive.” Jeez, there was already a lot to unpack, but Tony would rather throw the whole suitcase away at this point.

“Hydra thought that since they were successful with Peter, the process could be easily recreated. Little did they know that the kid’s parents destroyed every single file that had anything to do with the experiment.”

“I can imagine they were pretty pissed.”

Bucky smiled at the memory. “They were furious. Several search parties were sent out in an attempt to find Peter’s body. Obviously, the search proved to be fruitless.”

“The question is,” Rhodey said, “what do we do now?”

Tony was expecting more heavy silence. He didn’t expect Steve to speak.

“Fury called and asked about our progress. He said he will take Peter into Shield’s custody. I think it will be for the best.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony stood up abruptly, “you want to send him away?”

“Tony,” Steve sighed like he was expecting the protest. “He’s a villain.”

“He’s a child!”

“He’s also product of Hydra,” Steve countered.

Clint frowned. “Steve, he’s—"

“Stark—” Sam joined in as well and all of a sudden the whole room was buzzing with words, everyone talking over everyone.

“Do you know what he said to me during our session?” Tony raised his voice and gestured to the vague direction of the kid’s cell. The room fell silent. “He downright admitted to being trained to withstand torture. You can make a pretty good fucking guess on who trainedhim. I told him that it was not okay, but he saw nothing wrong with it!”

Tony chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. “So yeah, he might be a villain and a product of Hydra, but he is also a kid who doesn’t know any better!”

Steve looked at him with genuine pity. “Tony, I still think Fury—”

“Two weeks,” Tony rushed out. “Give me two weeks to try and show the kid how normal is supposed to look like. If he doesn’t show any redeeming quality, then… then Fury can come and take him.”

Tony knew two weeks weren’t nearly enough to make someone have a change of heart, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t try. He was a mechanic. He fixed things. And he will try to fix this kid that probably knew nothing but pain his whole life. There was no space for mess-ups. Not this time.

And… he might be a mess when it came to emotion, but maybe that’s exactly what the situation called for.

“I say let’s give him a chance.”

Despite how softly the words were spoken, they felt almost deafening in the quiet room. Tony was surprised by his unlikely ally, but assumed it made sense.

“Buck?” Steve asked carefully.

“I was a product of Hydra too and I was there way longer that Peter. You gave me a chance. I say he deserves the same,” Bucky said, determined.

“I second this,” Clint stood up. “No kid deserves to live like that.”

“If Barnes and I could change, then so can he,” Natasha said.

“They’re right,” Sam said and soon everyone was on Tony’s side.

Steve’s eyes roamed over the group, each person determined to spark the change in Peter. To help him.

“Fine,” Steve relented. “Two weeks.”

“Thank you,” Tony said gratefully.

“So, do you have anything specific in mind? When do we start?” Rhodey asked.

Tony smiled. “Right now.”

#marvel fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #villain peter #villain peter parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #villainous july 2021 #the avengers #protective tony stark #tony stark has a heart #peter parker needs a hug #tw past abuse

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stars-trash-18 · 3 years

Text

Home II

I’m thinking of doing weekly to bi-weekly updates since that seems to fit my schedule better. I’m in the process of moving so between packing and getting my house ready to sell I’ll use my spare time to write. Also as many of us know the well of writing goes dry leaving us in a writer’s block.

I hope you enjoy the second installment to this series. Reminder that if you see any errors, or mentions of race or gender to let me know so that I can fix it. I want this fic to be for everybody.

You didn’t speak to them for weeks after that, wanting them to come to you when they were ready. Until Big Blue decided to disturb the peace.

He flew in when you were re-thatching the roof of the barn, you clutched your hat to your head as the wind picked up as he was landing. He sent dirt everywhere and blew several stacks of thatch off the roof, the chickens running around in panic, and Tusker went into an overprotective tizzy. The Tusk Cat circled the man warily with a low growl, but stopped when Paz held his hand out, concluding that the man half the size of a Bantha was no threat.

Paz looked up at you and you swore you could feel his apologetic look as he hoisted a few bundles of thatch into his thick arms. You would’ve been impressed if you weren’t sweating like a TaunTaun on Tatooine. Paz carefully climbed the ramp up to your spot and set the thatch down next to you, lowering himself to his knees to help.

“I’m here to let you know the clan agreed to repay you in labor, a few of us are able enough to help you work the land and the rest have skills that you’d benefit from,” he explained as he tightly weaved the long reeds and grasses together. You were slightly impressed, you had him down as a plain warrior not a craftsman.

“Alright, just know I won’t treat you like slaves, I've helped too many escape so it’ll be fair pay for fair work,” you said as you fixed a few of the strands.

“The most I’ll ask for is basic repairs, some help during harvests, and maybe some help gathering the herd when winter rolls in,” You rattled off handedly , “it might take awhile since it is a big piece of land but you'll have more use than I did so you should work it off in a few years,”.

You glanced up at the giant to see his visor pointed directly at you. You quirked an eyebrow at him as you stabbed a wooden pin into the weave, he flinched slightly at your sudden move and refocused on weaving.

“That’s kind of you more than we can ask for, pretty sure you’re one of the only decent beings left in the forsaken galaxy,” he huffed as you finished one section of the roof. You stood up and dusted your hands on your pants and held a hand out to help him up. He took it and with a grunt pulled himself up .

“If we’re going to be working together I'd at least like your name,” you said as you walked carefully down the ramp, Tusker waiting patiently at the bottom for you. You used him to help balance yourself after walking down at such an angle, leaning some of your weight onto him.

Paz seemed to have better footing than you did because he was able to walk in a straight line down, sending a chicken scurrying out of his path with a squawk of protest.

“Paz, my name is Paz and who has my clan put themselves in debt to?” he asked, though his tone was joking you didn’t miss the thinly veiled threat behind his words. You knew that anyone who messed with the clan had to answer to this blue mountain.

“Y/N, and don’t consider it debt, consider it an exchange with delayed payment,” you teased slightly as you heard your son’s scream getting closer. You pivoted in the direction of Attila and had a blaster in your hand and held at your thigh primed before Paz could even react.

“ZAZAAAA,” he cried as he launched himself into your legs. You nearly toppled over but a strong hand on your back kept you upright and a quick glance in the corner of your eyes proved that it was Paz who kept you upright.

“What is it, my little womp rat? Don’t tell me you were up to your antics again,” You scolded lightly as you placed a hand onto your son’s hair and softly ran your fingers through it to calm him, bending down to be closer to his height as you spoke. Attila reeled back from you hold and lightly battered your hands away from his hair, running his own hands through to keep it in place.

“Zaz I'm too old for that, I just wanted to show you my project,” he grumbled, his eyes glancing from you to Paz who leaned against a hitching post. You blinked at your kid for a moment, forgetting he’s almost a teenager. He may love your attention most of the time but when people are around he acts like every other preteen, wanting to impress others.

You only sighed and lightly shook your head, “sorry kid, I forget you’re older now, but what is this project you were so excited to show me,” you said. You stood up again and watched as Attila reached into his back pocket and brought out one of your broken blasters.

“I know you hate me messing with weapons zaza, but I read blaster repair and wanted to try it out for myself, and look it works again!” he exclaimed, holding it out to you. You tried not to get angry with him, he was intelligent for 10 and always liked taking things apart to see how they worked. But you didn’t want him messing with weapons until you could find him a mentor, too many incidents from a blaster being rewired wrong flashed through your head.

“You know I’d normally ground you for this Attila and you’re lucky I’m in a good mood, so let’s see how this’ll work out,” you sighed defeatedly, taking the offered blaster from his hands. You carefully inspected it for anything out of order while it warmed up, glancing at a few of the components to find anything amiss. It was when you felt a large presence behind you that you glanced over your shoulder, having forgotten about your guest.

“If you’d like I could fire it for you, the armor protects me better if anything goes wrong, besides I’m a weapons expert and I've been blown up by a few of my own projects,” Paz offered, almost shyly at the mention of his own projects. You gave it little thought before dropping the blaster in his waiting hand, you’d rather he take the hit to his armor than you in nothing but your work clothes.

“Of course, there’s a can up on the fence post across the yard that I use for practice,” You mentioned offhandedly, taking Attila by the shoulders and moving yourselves back a few paces. Attila giggled in excitement as he kept his eyes glued to Paz’s armor, your son obviously taking a liking to him. Paz nodded in your direction and placed himself in a shooting stance, lifting the arm with the blaster up as he lined his shot. With a loud pop you saw a bolt send the mentioned can flying several yards away, and Paz let out a pained grunt as electricity flowed through his arm, causing him to drop the blaster into the dirt.

You rushed to his side and placed an arm around him to steady the man as Attila stood stock still in shock. Paz leaned heavily into your side before straightening up and letting you guide him into your house, kicking the door open and settling the man onto your dining chair.

“Attila, run and grab my kit from the bathroom, then put on my electrical gloves and get that blaster out of the yard,” you ordered as you wrangled Paz’s glove off his hand. Paz seemed to protest at first but relented when you glared at him and removed the glove, seeing slight burns on his fingertips and his hand stuck like he was still holding the blaster.

“I’m fine, it’s just a little shock, kid put too much power into the firing module and it backfired, I’ll be fine in a few hours,” Paz lamented, gritting his teeth and balling his good hand into a fist to try and distract himself from the pain.

You only huffed before grumbling about his stubbornness, “what I see is different, you have some nerve damage in your hand and if I don’t get some Bacta on it now you won’t have use of your hand for the next week,” you retorted. Digging through your kit for the bacta spray, pulling it free and popping the cap off with your teeth, spraying a generous amount onto the burns and surrounding nerves. You started to massage the hand, trying to get that bacta deep into his skin to better heal.

Attila came running in and set the blaster down onto the table, wringing your gloves between his hands as he stared at Paz’s hand, his eyes slowly filling with tears.

“I’m sorry mandalorian, I should’ve listened to zaza and now you’re hurt, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” He sniffled letting a few tears roll. Paz seemed to relax and extended his good hand out to Attila, moving the boy closer to him so he could rest his arm around Attila. You watched on in caution but refocused on wrapping his hand in bacta infused bandages when you saw how Paz softened at the crying child.

“It’s alright little one, accidents happen, this is just a lesson that needed to be learned,” He soothed, rubbing Attila’s shoulder comfortingly, “Now you know to listen to your Buir better and that I need to shock-proof my armor better, I’ll be alright,” he continued. This seemed to soothe Attila as he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and nodded, scurrying to his room to curl up with Tusker to calm down.

You sighed and watched him until he closed his door, turning back to your patient as you secured the glove back onto his hand, “thank you for that, it normally takes longer to soothe him, he hates failing,” you said, watching as reached for the blaster on the table. Turning it this way and that to inspect it.

“I told him he can mess with blasters when I find him proper training, but out here it’s hard to find a weaponsmith without an apprentice already,” you lamented softly. Paz turned his visor towards you and extended the blaster out to you to take before settling back into the chair.

“I know what it’s like, I was the same way when I was his age shortly before I joined the fighting Corps, I'm just glad I took the hit and not you or the boy,” he explained, running a hand down his thigh plating. It drew your attention briefly, knowing it was probably a scar from a similar incident, but you quickly looked back up at Paz as your face started to heat up.

“Kid’s good I’ll admit with his limited knowledge, if you ever find him a mentor I think he’d make something of himself,” He added, before standing up and heading towards the still open door, pausing briefly to look back at you.

“If you need anything you know where to find us,” he said before closing the door behind himself. A minute later you heard his jet pack fire up and you heard him disappear towards the bunker.

You sighed heavily and cradled your face in your hands to breathe deeply and decompress from all the activity. Rubbing your hands harshly down your face before you stared at the seat Paz had occupied a minute ago. What had you gotten yourself into.

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla imagine #Paz x reader #paz imagine #Paz viszla #home II #Paz series

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clanoffetts · 4 years

Text

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

Chapter III

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blossoms.

warnings/things to note: swearing; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); no use of ‘Y/N’; my fc for Paz is Winston Duke, I don’t describe Paz too much at the moment, but just know that’s who I picture!

word count: 6.4k

karyai - main living room of the covert - a big chamber for talking, resting, and even the last secure stronghold when under attack.

ba’vodu - uncle/aunt

The birds of Yavin IV’s song was calming as you came into full consciousness. The sleep from the night before was much needed, and very refreshing. You opened your eyes and looked to where Paz had been before you’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t there. Neither was your sleep mask. “Kriff!” You flung your body onto your right side, looking away from Paz’s side of the bed.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You’d told him you wouldn't look. Hell, you told him it was impossible for you to look. And here you are, no mask over your eyes. What if he’d been there? After all the time you’d spent convincing him to share the bed with you, that it’d be safe. Sure, you hadn’t actually seen him, but the possibility frightened you. You couldn’t violate him like that, even if it was an accident. You couldn’t live with yourself.

A few minutes of deep breathing later, you got out of bed, and headed into the ‘fresher. You wanted so badly to take another shower, to relax under the water, but you knew it was important to save water, not sure if the covert had water to spare for your journey. You’d have to be content with washing your face and pretending.

You stared in the mirror, into your own eyes. You replayed the night before: the vibroblade that now sat with your stuff, the idea of Paz taking you to his home and meeting his family, learning his traditions. The pure bliss you were in as you fell asleep, and then the violent jerk of the morning’s close call. Your eyes were no longer as tired as they had been when you’d looked at yourself last night.

You threw on jeans and a shirt, and finally left the safety of the ‘fresher. Would Paz be mad about the mask coming off? He was so hesitant as it was, you were terrified that this would push him away, make him realize that there’s too much risk in a relationship with a non-Mando.

“Kebiin’ika?” Paz called as he heard the door to the bedroom open.

“Yeah?”

He stood up and met you halfway between the room and the common area. “How’d you sleep?” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a half hug before leading you to the table you’d sat at the night before.

“Pretty good,” you said, taking a seat. “Paz?” He hummed and sat down a bowl of some type of porridge in front of you. “Are you mad at me?”

The helmet snapped up to look at you. “Why would I be mad? If you think you broke the towel rack in the ‘fresher, you haven’t. It’s always been like that.”

“No, Paz,” you said. “About the sleep mask. It came off last night. I’m so sorry, I thought it would stay on. I’m not really a wild sleeper so I don’t know how it happened, but I understand if you’re mad at me-”

“Kebiin’ika,” he says, cutting you off. You suck in a big breath, not realizing how long you’d been rambling. “It’s not that big of a deal to me, it was an accident. You didn’t see my face, right?”

You nodded. “Right.”

“See? No creeds broken,” he says. He can tell you’re still a little shaken up, and moves to lay his large, gloved hand over your small one. “If I didn’t trust you, mesh’la, I would’ve slept on the cot. I knew the mask came off when I woke up this morning, but I trust you enough that I know you wouldn’t use the opportunity of me being asleep to look, even on accident.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you swear you could hear a smile on his face. “Are you sure? I know I didn’t see anything this time, but I would understand if you want me to take the cot from now on.” He ushered you closer to him, his arm around you. It was a bit awkward with all his armor and clothes, but the heart was there. “Kebiin’ika,” he said. “I’m comfortable with sleeping the way we did last night as long as you are. I’m not worried.”

You sighed, leaning into him. The beskar was cold and you just wanted to feel him, his warm skin. “Ok,” you say. “If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” he replies. “Now, why don’t you finish eating while I call the covert. Tell them that I’ll be there shortly to pick up some of our supplies, ok?”

You nodded, and he let you out of his embrace. While spooning the food into your mouth, you watched him at the hull, punching some numbers into his gauntlet and then speaking in what you assumed was Mando’a. It was such a beautiful language, especially coming from Paz’s mouth. And he spoke it with a pride in his voice that he didn’t have when speaking Basic.

“Alright, mesh’la,” he said as you got to the bottom of the bowl. “I’ll be back soon, no more than two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Yes, two hours,” he laughed. “It may be sooner, but you never know. Mandalorians take a long time to say goodbye.”

You smiled at him. “Alright, have fun,” you say.

“Oh, I will,” he replies. You watched as the mountain of blue beskar exited the ship and mounted the speeder the two of you rode the day before. A lot has changed since then, you thought. Before you knew it, Paz Vizsla was gone and a dirt cloud took his place.

Paz’s ride back to his home didn’t take too long at all. And when he arrived, he spotted Din and Grogu on some rocks outside the entrance.

“C’mon, Grogu,” Din is saying. “You can do it.” Grogu sat on a rock opposite Din, with his eyes closed. In Din’s hand was Grogu’s beskar ball. Grogu and his ball were inseparable.

As Paz dismounted and began walking towards the hangar, Grogu’s eyes shot open and he let out an excited shriek. Paz didn’t speak fifty-year-old-toddler, but he figured it was something along the lines of “ba’vodu!”.

Din turned around, too, and stood. He picked up his little foundling and greeted Paz half way. “How was your evening?”

“Nice,” Paz says. “Yours?”

Din nods. “Mine was ok, but I don’t have a pretty mechanic in my room like you do.”

Paz rolled his eyes. “Din, it’s not like that.”

Grogu made a sound of protest. “Hm,” Din said. “My Jedi son seems to think differently. He’s never wrong about these things…” Din teases.

Paz stops just as they’re about to open the blast doors. “Din, Grogu,” Paz says. “Just between us?”

“Just between us,” Din says, and Grogu babbles.

Paz sighed, was he really doing this? He was. “We’re courting.”

“I knew it!” Din exclaims, and Grogu laughs. “I knew it, Paz. So what’d you give her?”

Paz patted the empty sheath. “Vibroblade.”

“Classic,” Din says. “What will you propose marriage with? Something of her homeworld’s tradition? Or wait and exchange blades that Armorer makes?”

Paz shakes his head, and he’s smiling beneath his bucket. “Maker, Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Though he figured it’d be blades. You didn’t seem too fond of being reminded of Alderaan. “But I’ll put your name in if we need a wedding planner.”

“You better,” Din replies. “Armorer will want to know, too.”

Paz nodded. “I know. I’m not sure I’ll tell her this time. I don’t want word getting out.”

“She won’t tell anyone, you know that.”

“I know, but still,” Paz said, finally punching in the code and opening the doors. “But we’ve got a covert of eavesdroppers.”

There was a child tending to one of his chores just inside, and as soon as he spotted Paz, he practically lunged at him. “Paz!”

“Hey, ad’ika,” Paz says, taking the young kid up onto one of his arms. “I didn’t get to see you yesterday!”

“I know,” he said. “My buir had me at home practicing math. Math! Can you believe it?”

Paz laughed. “Knowing your buir? Yes, yes I can.”

The group walked further inside the winding the halls of the covert, adding new people to their crew as they saw them. Eventually they reached the karyai, and everyone got comfortable on the many cushions, chairs, and sofas littered about the room.

Paz stayed standing. “Sorry, everyone,” he said when he noticed their disappointment that he wasn’t going to be there long. “But I’ve got my end of a deal to hold up, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.” Paz noticed that at the mention of a her, helmets turned to the side, looking at each other, silently gossiping.

“Then come in here, Paz,” Armorer says, at the doorway to her forge. “And we’ll discuss what you need.”

Paz obeyed, making his way through all the Mandalorians relaxing in the karyai. He closed the door behind him, and sat at Armorer’s table. “We’ve compiled some things for your journey,” she says. “It’s not much, but it’s what we have. It’s in the hangar, I’m sure Clan Djarin would be happy to assist you in taking it back to your ship.”

“I’m sure it’s more than enough,” Paz replies. “Thank you, Armorer.”

She nodded. “Now, how happy was your mechanic at being left on the ship for so long yesterday?”

Paz could hear her smirk. “She got bored. Wasn’t there when I got back,” he said. “I almost lost my mind, but she was just in the little town, shopping.”

Armorer let out a soft chuckle. “And you’re trying to tell everyone you aren’t smitten? Maker, Vizsla, I’d think you’d be better with convincing by now.”

Paz sighed. “You’d think.”

Armorer��s stare bore into him. For Mandalorians, it usually wasn’t intimidating when another looked at you through their visor. It was normal. But Armorer’s presence was different, she was intimidating. “Where is your vibroblade?”

Kriff. “It’s right here,” he said, patting the sheath on his left side, where his second vibroblade sat.

“No, not that one,” she said. “The one I forged for you when you donned your helmet. I swear you had it yesterday.”

Well, he might as well tell her at this point. She wouldn’t believe that he’d lost it, this blade had Mandalorian and Vizsla carvings in it, he rarely used it in combat. “Don’t tell anyone this,” Paz said. “I want it to be a secret for now, ok?”

She nodded.

“I gave it to her. The mechanic.”

Armorer sucked in a breath so sharp that her vocoder picked it up. “As a courtship proposal?” Paz nodded. “I wish you both many blessings, many warriors,” she said. Paz didn’t know if you wanted warriors, but Armorer’s blessings were traditional, and carried a lot of weight.

“Thank you, Armorer,” he replies. “I will pass along the message.”

“If you two are courting, then why didn’t you bring her here? Are you still going on your journey?”

Paz nodded. “She has unfinished business in the Hosnian system,” he didn’t tell her what business. It wasn’t his place, and Armorer understood. “We’ll be back, though I’m not sure when.”

“Long hyperspace travel will be good for your relationship.” Armorer entered counselor mode. “Building trust and love.”

Paz always felt a bit awkward when she became a psychologist. So he just nodded. “Anyways, you said the supplies were in the hangar?”

She nodded. “Take care of her, Paz,” she said. They both stood. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Paz repeated.

Paz exited the Armorer’s workshop. Back in the karyai, some people had gone back to their rooms or to tend to their duties, but many still sat around. “Din?” Paz said to his friend.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t happen to know where Bezza is, do you?”

Din nodded. “Last I saw she was in one of the sparring rooms.” Paz thanked him and headed off down one of the long corridors towards the training rooms.

All the sparring room doors were open except one. Paz opened it gently, and looked inside. Bezza wielded the beskar staff Din had brought back with him. She was sparring with a reprogrammed droid, the only one in the covert. Paz watched with pride as she jabbed at the droid, careful not to hurt it too much. There were still children that would need to learn from sparring with the machine.

As she landed a final blow, the droid declared her the winner, and she backed off. Paz clapped from his place at the door. “That was very impressive,” he said. “You’ve gotten used to the armor quite well.”

“Paz!” She dropped the staff and walked towards her friend. “No one told me you were here.”

“That’s probably best,” Paz said. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to not repeat it, ok?”

Bezza nodded. “Ok. But if you tried to bring a Loth-cat in again, I’m not making any promises.”

Paz laughed. “It’s not a Loth-cat. It’s about my girl.”

“Your girl?”

Paz nodded. “We’re courting.”

Bezza threw her arms around her ba’vodu. “Paz that’s wonderful!” Their beskar sang as he patted Bezza on the back. When she finally let go she said, “Are you guys staying here? When do you think you’ll marry? I know Mandalorian courtships tend to not last long, but she’s not a Mandalorian so-”

Paz cut off her rambling by saying, “I don’t know. Like I told Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Bezza laughed. “Of course you haven’t. How many people have you told, Paz? You know if you tell the wrong person, your courtship will be the topic at many dinner tables tonight.”

“I know,” Paz replied. “Only you, Din, and Armorer know.”

“Ok,” she said. “So I take it you’re not going to stay here?”

Paz shook his head. “We’re off to Hosnian Prime as soon as I get back with the supplies.” Somehow, Paz could sense Bezza’s disappointment. He wanted so badly to be there for her, help her through her losses, but he’d made a promise to you. A Mandalorian’s honor was their everything. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be there, but we’ll be coming back here. Maybe even to stay.”

“What’s even on Hosnian Prime?”

Paz sighed. He wanted to tell her, to give her a detailed reason so maybe she felt better. But, again, it wasn’t his place. “She has some business to take care of, Bez.”

She nodded, somewhat satisfied. “Can I walk with you to the hangar?” Paz nodded and they left the sparring room. All the way there, Bezza asked questions in typical teenage fashion. What’s her name? What’s she like? What color is her hair? And Paz answered them all. He figured you wouldn’t mind, and they weren’t too personal. All her questions reminded Paz of just how young she was. Other Mandalorians would understand not to ask those questions, just as Bezza would, in time.

In the hangar were Din and Grogu and that kriffing ball. Din had already loaded the speeder bikes with the fuel and food, and was now just killing time with his son. “Din!” Paz called. “I’m just about ready.”

Paz turned to Bezza. “When I get back we’ll start a plan for your training. There’s still a lot to get used to in the armor, especially with the jetpack.”

“Ok,” she said. “Hurry back, alright? And be safe!” Paz and Bezza exchanged a few more goodbyes, and he promised to pass on her hello to you.

Finally, Paz and Din had mounted the speeder bikes. Grogu sat in a carrier on Din’s chest, obviously excited to feel the wind whip around his long ears. The men had unspokenly made it a race, revving their engines and attempting to pass each other without knocking their cargo loose.

You sat outside the ship, taking in the fresh air as the Mandalorians arrived in a cloud of dust, Mando’a, and a baby’s shriek. A baby? You thought.

You got on your feet and approached the speeders. To your surprise, the Mandalorian in unpainted beskar greeted you by name. Quite a lot kinder than the stare he’d met you with when you’d first arrived. “Hello,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then your eyes finally dropped from the helmet to the carrier on his chest. “Who’s this?”

“My son,” the Mando said. “His name is Grogu.”

You smiled at the baby. “Hello, Grogu,” you said, and introduced yourself to him. Grogu’s tiny little arms reached out for you, and with Mando's permission, you picked him up. “You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you, Grogu?” He babbled excitedly.

The two of you stood back as Din and Paz began loading the supplies onto the ship. “Your dad is very strong, Grogu,” you tell him as Din lifts a large crate off the bike and into the cargo hold. “Are you going to be strong like him?” Grogu gives you a strong response. This kid has to be a handful, you thought. Grogu stayed gripped onto you, his three little fingers wrapped around your one, gurgling and babbling like he made all the sense in the world. You, of course, humored him, and had a deep conversation about the inflation of credits as the shift from Imperial credits to New Republic credits took place.

Eventually, the men were done, the ship was loaded and refueled. “Alright, Grogu,” you say. “I think your dad will be wanting you back.” You placed a kiss to the top of his odd green head, and attempted to hand him over to the Mando. Grogu had other ideas. His fingers stayed gripped on the back of your t-shirt.

“Grogu,” Din said. “We have to go. Come on.”

You laughed at the little baby, amazed at how he’d become so attached to you in such little time. “Go on, hon,” you coax. “Your uncle and I will be back soon, I promise.” His big, dark eyes looked up at you, and then he allowed you to pass his little body to his father, who fastened him into the carrier.

“Safe travels, you two,” Mando said, and attached the bike Paz rode to his own, and him and Grogu were off.

Finally, you were able to give Paz a hug. “Ready, kebiin’ika?” he asked.

“Yeah. Let me call Leia before we go,” you say. “I forgot to this morning.”

“Ok, I’ll be waiting in the cockpit whenever you’re ready.” He turned around and disappeared onto the ship.

You held the holoprojector in front of you, anxious. Surely Leia would want to see you, right? After all your time together…

You sat the projector on a rock and sat down in front of it. You punched in the numbers Leia had sent you a while ago, and waited. Finally, a young girl answered. “May I ask who is calling?” You told her your name. “And who are you calling for?”

“Leia,” you said, and then cringed. “Uh, her royal highness.” You’d never really grasped the royal protocol.

The girl looked closely. “Is the princess expecting you?”

“Uh, not really,” you said. “But we fought in the Rebellion together. She gave me this number, told me to call if I needed her.”

The girl nodded, and walked out of frame. Hopefully, she’d return with Leia. She did return, but no princess in sight. “Her royal highness will meet with you shortly.” And then she was gone again.

You sat looking around at the trees, taking in your last minutes on a planet for some time. And even when you got to Hosnian Prime, it would be way different. Hosnian Prime was busy, unlike Dantooine and Yavin IV.

“Finally!” said a voice. Leia’s. She stood in holo form on the rock, an elegant white dress covered her form and her hair was in two braids down her shoulders. “I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you.”

“Leia!” you exclaimed. “I’ve wanted to call, but you know how I felt when the war was won…I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

She frowned. “Oh, stop that,” she said. “I’ll always want to hear from you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get on the line, Korrie is quite protective of me.”

“I understand,” you smiled. “You are a very important person, your royal highness.”

Leia laughed. “Now, what did I tell you back on Alderaan about formal titles?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a normal person when you’re with me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I take it you’re a bit exhausted with decorum at the moment?”

She nodded. “And it doesn’t help that Threepio is the decorum police, either.” The two of you shared a laugh at the droid’s expense. You didn’t know how Leia could stand C-3PO all the time. “Enough with my complaining, are you ok? Is there something you need?”

“Well, I was calling to see if you’d receive me on Hosnian?” you asked. “I want to catch up with you, maybe even a few friends from the old days?”

Leia smiled. “Of course I’ll receive you! When are you leaving? And where from?”

“Yavin IV,” you say. “And hopefully as soon as I hang up with you, if that’s ok?”

She nodded. “That’d be great. I’ll have Korrie send you the coordinates. I can’t wait to see you!” Leia had a way of making anyone feel comfortable, and you couldn’t wait to be in her full presence again. You exchanged goodbyes, and Leia disappeared from the rock.

Back on the ship, you grabbed a fruit bar from the kitchen and sat in the cockpit. “How was your princess?” Paz asked as he copied the coordinates from your holopad.

“Good,” you replied. “I had no reason to be anxious, really.”

Paz put a gloved hand over yours on the armrest. “I’m glad it’s working out, mesh’la.”

“What’s that word mean? You’ve been calling me that all day.”

His thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand. “It means ‘beautiful’,” he says.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat. “It’s a beautiful word, no wonder it means beautiful.” Paz chuckled a little at your awe.

His hand left yours and landed on the controls. “Ready to head out?” You nodded, mouth too full to properly respond, and the take off sequence was activated. The ship rose out of the clearing, and you watched as Yavin IV grew smaller beneath you. You saw a building off in the distance, it looked half underground, with a large hangar at the front.

“Is that your home?” you ask, pointing out at the structure.

Paz nodded. “Indeed it is,” he says.

“That was part of the Rebel base once,” you say, remembering your time here. “I didn’t spend too much time on that part, though. There was a main hangar a little farther down, but after the war Leia had a lot of it removed, so the wildlife could return to normal,” you say. “Guess not all of it was taken.”

The ship finally reached the atmosphere and Paz guided the ship through it with grace. The jump to hyperspace was made, and the ship was on autopilot for the next three days.

Paz turned to you in his chair. “We live in a rebel base now?”

“Indeed you do,” you say. “I think a lot of that building was quarters for officers and stuff. I’ll bet Leia can tell you when we arrive.”

“You want me to come with you to meet her?”

You looked at him, a little confused. “Of course I do,” you tell him. “I don’t know how long I’ll be there and I’m sure that a princess has room to spare. Besides, it’ll do you some good to sleep on a proper bed for a few nights.”

“Are you sure, kebiin’ika? Mandalorians aren’t greeted too kindly.”

“Maybe not in the Outer Rim,” you say. “But that far into the Core? And a guest of Princess Leia’s? I’m sure it'll be ok.”

He nodded. “Ok, then. I’ll come with you.” You smiled at him, wishing so badly to smile at his face and not his helmet. You took his hand in yours, stood up, and led him to the little common area. There was a small sofa pushed against one of the walls, and you motioned for him to sit.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and retreat back to the cockpit. When you return, Paz is sat on the sofa, still as can be. It was still a little creepy, how he could just sit there. You held up your holopad. “First thing to know about dating me is I need designated snuggle and holodrama time.”

He laughed. “Is this a common thing or just a kebiin’ika thing?”

You sat down next to him, a little confused that he was wondering if cuddling and watching holos was common. “Am I your first girlfriend, Paz?”

“If I say yes will you think I’m weird?”

“No, I won’t think you’re weird.”

“Then yes,” he said. You looked at him, feeling a wave of sadness. Had this man been cuddled ever? Hugged? Loved? You cared for him so much already, and you wanted him to feel those things.

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s a me thing, but it’s an important thing,” you laugh, setting the holopad up to project against the blank wall of the ship. A show about a Jedi and a Twi’lek healer’s unrequited love played on the wall, a slight silver hue brought by the metal of the ship. You moved to cuddle against him, but the armor was stubborn.

“Could you, like, take some of this off?” You say, gesturing at the metal.

He feigned surprise. “You haven’t even taken me out, mesh’la, and you expect me to strip?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just lose some of it so I can cuddle you.” He obeyed, the cuirass and pauldrons going first, and then the gauntlets and gloves. He was left in his fly suit, made of a coarse weave fabric. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would do. You moved his arm around you as you settled into his chest. You could tell he wasn’t too sure what to do. “You’re warm,” you sigh.

“Sorry, mesh’la,” he says.

“Why are you sorry? It’s nice. Hyperspace gets cold,” you tell him. He was a little tense at first, he wasn’t used to this, he really hadn’t been properly cuddled since before he lost his buire so long ago.

Paz looked down at you, your head resting against him as you took in the predictable plot of the show. You were relaxed, almost like earlier that morning when he’d woken up. The mask had been gone, and your eyes had gently fluttered in your sleep. Paz felt a tightness in his chest, a feeling he’d been having a lot since you’ve been around. It’s gotten more and more intense, especially as you curled yourself into him. Your touch was burning into his skin in an amazing way, and he knew he’d be able to feel it long after you’d get up. He repeated your it’s nice in his head. No one had ever told him that touching him was nice. In fact, most people hated the touch of a Mandalorian. If they even lived to hate it.

As the drama went to an ad for some kind of Bantha milk, Paz felt you move to look up at him. “Paz?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you can’t tell me what your Mando friend looks like under his helmet,” you say. “But can you tell me how he fits his ears in the helmet?”

Paz laughed. “What?”

“Well, if his ears are anything like his son’s, I’d imagine it’s hard.”

He threw his head back in a bellow of laughter. “Mesh’la, my friend and his son aren’t the same species. Grogu is a foundling.”

“A foundling?”

He finally recovered from his laughter, and his breath steadied. “Yeah, Mandalorians take in children who’ve lost their parents. My friend was a foundling once, and his son is a foundling.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well that explains the ears, I guess. You weren’t a foundling were you?” You remembered him saying something about Vizslas being important on Mandalore.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “The Vizsla line goes as far back into Mandalorian history as I can trace. But most importantly, Tarre Vizsla, who was a Jedi, created the Darksaber. Whoever wields the dark saber is the Mand’alor, our ruler.”

“Who is the Mand’alor now?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “There isn’t one. Mandalore isn’t the same as it was, it hasn’t been in a very long time. Before I was born, even.”

“Well, you’re a Vizsla aren’t you? Shouldn’t you wield it?”

He laughs a little. “That’s not exactly how it works, mesh’la. Well, it worked like that for a while, but now you must win the saber in combat. Except no one knows where the saber is.” His voice had gotten sad, and he was running his right hand over his left while they sat on your back, some kind of self-soothing. “Besides,” he says, “There’s a lot of Vizslas out there I’m sure, and I don’t want to be a king. That is not the path that I follow.”

“I understand. It all becomes...a bit much,” you agree. Leia had offered you multiple positions on multiple committees in the new Senate, all dealing with labor laws and droids with a bunch of political nonsense you didn’t care to wade through. Not to mention having to represent the voice of mechanics all over the galaxy. No. Too much stress.

“Kebiin’ika,” Paz says. “As much as I like this old, lumpy sofa, don’t you think we’d be more comfy laying in bed?”

“I’m starting to think you’re a mind reader, Vizsla,” you say. The two of you awkwardly untangle in a mess of limbs and beskar clangs as you accidentally collide with his cuirass that lay on the floor. “Sorry,” you say, moving his armor up onto the sofa and off of the floor.

“Don’t be,” he reassured. “Beskar is practically invincible.”

The two of you made it into the bedroom, you set your holopad up properly to project onto the blank white wall ahead of the bed, there for this reason exactly. The show was brighter now, and clearer. It was technically late afternoon by Yavin IV time, but in hyperspace it was hard to tell. Paz got rid of the armor on his lower body, the codpiece, thighs and knees, and shins. He also kicked off his boots.

He looked so beautifully mundane. Doing something that he’d done a million times at this point, probably, and he was an expert. Could do with his eyes closed. And you loved it, you wondered if his brow furrowed under the helmet when he had to prod a clasp a little harder, or if he let out a soft huff when a piece was finally removed.

He climbed onto the bed and motioned for you to sit between his legs. Kriff, his legs were big.

You settled between his legs, back against his chest. His hands sat awkwardly on his thighs. “You know you can touch me, right?” you say, moving his hands to lay around your middle.

“I have to remind myself, mesh’la,” he says. “You’re not a quick fuck. You’re someone I want to be slow with, I’m just not sure how to go about it.” You were a bit surprised at how blunt he was, but honestly? You appreciated it. He wouldn’t be playing games with you.

You squeezed his hand. “We will go however slow as you want, alright? And don’t be afraid of me, ok? You can ask me anything.”

“I know, cyare, and I’m grateful for that,” he says softly. He wanted to kiss the top of your head so bad. He’d seen it in holos before, but never really understood the appeal until now.

At some point, you’d fallen asleep in the Mandalorian’s arms. It wasn’t until an hour later that he woke you up. “Kebiin’ika?” He’s whispering as much as the vocoder will let him. His voice is deep in your ear, and briefly becomes a part of your dream until you finally wake up.

“How long was I out?” You ask, sitting up and stretching your arms out in front of you.

He stood up, stretching his arms, too. “About an hour, I think. I dozed a bit, too.”

“I’m hungry,” you complain. He agrees, and you’re off to the kitchen. You start making sandwiches with a few of the vegetables you knew he’d bought back on Dantooine. You smiled at them, filled with a bit of nostalgia. That greenhouse of Aliria’s was always a peaceful place.

Paz is doing the same, though he’s making two sandwiches. You presume it’s because he’s such a large man, and such a strong man too. When you had relaxed into his chest, he was comfortable, a layer of fat that told you he took care of himself, and underneath you knew were strong, hardened muscles.

“Paz?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to sit with our backs to each other?” you ask. “So we can eat together instead of in shifts?” He nods, finishing up his sandwiches. You grab your plates and make your way to the sofa. He moves his armor back onto the floor a bit clumsily, and has to remind you that beskar is strong. He’s facing to the right, you to the left, backs together.

“You can lean back on me, cyare,” he says, and you smile at the switch of the nickname. It was kind of nice, not knowing which endearment would envelop you when he opened his mouth. You hear a click and hiss, sounds you’d heard the night before, and then the clunk of his helmet on the ship’s floor.

“I forgot to tell you earlier,” he says between bites. “Armorer and Bezza said to tell you hello.”

You remembered who Armorer was, but your brow furrowed, trying to recall where you’d heard the second name. “Bezza is the girl who you bought the journal for, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind my telling her about us. I’m the closest thing she has to family at the moment.”

You smile. “Of course it’s alright, Paz,” you say. “I’d love to meet her. She sounds very sweet.”

Paz felt a wave of joy rush over him. Bezza was very special to him, even more so now. And now you were special to him, too, and he wanted nothing more than for you two to get along. “If I would’ve known I would’ve brought her with me to the ship instead of my friend,” he said. He had to catch himself before saying Din’s name, knowing that Din was very particular about his name. Bezza, on the other hand, was a more modern Mando. “Maybe once I teach you to use that vibroblade, I can teach you how to wield a staff. Then you two could spar.”

“I don’t know, Paz,” you say. “I’m sure you’re a fantastic teacher, but I don’t see myself holding my own against a Mandalorian in combat.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll train you the Mandalorian way. One day, mesh’la, you will hold your own.”

A silence followed, you could hear the crunch of the chips he’d put in his sandwich as he bit.

“Is Bezza your foundling now?”

Paz swallowed his bite. “Maybe if she was younger I’d take her in, but she’s practically an adult. I wouldn’t want to insult her by insinuating she still needs caring for.”

“Everyone needs caring for,” you say, leaning your head back against him. “I’m twenty-six and I need caring for, emotionally anyways. I’m not sure how old you are, but I’m sure you do, too.”

He wasn’t at all shocked that you were twenty-six. He was, however, shocked that his age didn’t ever come up. “I’m forty-three,” he said, hoping that wouldn’t scare you. It didn’t seem to, so he continued. “And I guess you’re right, but still, I can care for her without taking her in.”

“I guess,” you said, and decided to let the topic of Bezza rest for a bit. “Do you think you’ll ever take in a foundling?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to father some kids as well, but also take in foundlings. Not only is it important to the Tribe, but I love kids. That’s why I’m their teacher whenever I’m not out hunting.”

“That’s sweet, Paz,” you tell him. “I’d like a kid, too, I think. Though, it scares me. Making a person inside my body for almost a year.”

“Mandalorians say to train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger,” he says. “I’m sure you can see why. Having children is important, it’s even in the Mandalorian wedding vows: ‘we will raise warriors’.”

You smile up at the ceiling, picturing you and Paz having a wedding. Some weird mix of Mandalorian and Alderaanian culture, exchanging Mandalorian vows. Maybe it was a bit early to be thinking about this, but you didn’t care.

You watched as Paz cleaned the plates from lunch. He volunteered to take your plate, and now he stood at the sink, scrubbing away the residue of the condiments and components of your lunches. Again, he looked so beautifully mundane, gloves gone, revealing his dark skin to you. Through the bubbles of soap you saw small pink scars littering the top of his hands. He scrubbed away with the brush, working diligently. Again you wondered what kind of face he makes when he concentrates. Does he stick his tongue out a little? Bite on the inside of his lip?

You thought back to the wedding you’d put together in your mind. You thought about how after those vows were exchanged you’d get to see the face he makes not only when he concentrates, but when he’s happy or frustrated, too.

He was such a mystery, but also easy to read. It confused you in the best way possible, and all you wanted was to read chapter after chapter of Paz Vizsla until you got to the part where you’d get to see his face, kiss his face, talk to his eyes rather than a visor. Someday, you told yourself. Someday.

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cruciology · 4 years

Text

Thunder and Lightning

Sandor Clegane x Reader

Summary: You and the Hound take shelter during a storm

The cold water felt amazing on your skin after days of traveling under the hot sun. It had been too long since you had had a proper bath, but you didn’t mind bathing rivers if it meant being far away from King Joffrey and his horrid mother. You wished that your sister had come with you and of course you felt terrible for leaving her there by herself, but when the Hound offered to take you both away with him when he ran, to take you to Castle Black to Jon, you couldn’t say no. You wished you could have forced her, but as soft and meek as people thought your sister was, you knew she could be just as stubborn as Arya. And you couldn’t very well stay in King’s Landing. Sansa’s high born status and betrothal to Joffrey protected her from certain death, but you were just a bastard. They would kill you the moment you stepped even a toe out of line. Even if the Hound had frightened you, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You had been traveling with him for months now and he still hadn’t laid a hand on you. In fact, besides when you were sitting on his horse in front of him, riding across his lap, he tried not to touch you at all.

You dived into the cold water to rinse your hair. You came up, taking a deep breath. Even the air on the road tasted better than the air in King’s Landing.

You heard your name from the trees surrounding the river you were swimming in. You should have known the Hound would come looking for you as soon as he awoke from his nap. He didn’t like you leaving his sight. He claimed he didn’t want to have to deal with your family coming after him if you got hurt under his watch.

“Here,” You called out, sinking up to your shoulders in the water. You could hear the Hound breaking branches as he walked through the forest.

He finally broke through the edge of the forest, looking annoyed. Then he spotted you naked under the water and quickly turned his back to you. “Fucking Hell, Snow,” He said. “Are you fucking stupid?”

“No, just sweaty and dirty,” You said. “Or I was until just a bit ago.”

“You’re going to just strip down in the middle of the woods where anyone can see you?” The Hound asked. “Get your clothes on before I end up having to kill somebody.”

“You would’ve heard me if something happened,” You argued, but you pulled yourself out of the water regardless. You pulled your slip back over your head and it clung to your cool, wet skin.

“You covered?” He asked. You rolled your eyes before confirming that you were while you were busy turning your dress right side out. He turned back, only to swear and slap his hand over his face again, making you laugh. “What did I say? Put your dress on, Seven Hells, girl.”

“You’re such a child, you can’t see anything,” You said.

“Can’t see anything, my ass.”

You finally got your dress on, tightening the ties at the front. “There, big baby man, my dress is on, you can unshield your eyes, your modesty is safe.”

The Hound finally took his hand away, looking down at you. “Not enough that you have your tits popping out half the time? You’re gonna get me killed by some horny pervert in my sleep.” You had this argument before. The Hound was always grunting that you were too noticeable. You learned this was Hound Speak for he thought you were too pretty for your own good. You tried not to look too closely at why him thinking you were pretty made your stomach flip.

“Did you have a point or did you just come out here to yell at me for having a bath?” You asked, hands on your hips. There was a time where you could barely look at the Hound’s face, but now you stared up at him with ease. You would dare to even call him your friend, though maybe not to his face. That was bold, even for you.

“It’s going to rain tonight,” He said, pointing up at the sky. The clouds hung heavy and grey just ahead. “Gotta find someplace to sleep if we don’t want to be half drowned by morning. There’s an inn up the road.”

“Oh, an inn, aren’t we fancy?” You followed him back into the forest, back to your small camp in the clearing.

“More trouble than you’re worth,” The Hound said, shaking his shaggy head. When you first left with him, you were careful not to annoy him, watching your every move to make sure you didn’t rub him the wrong way in case he really did just tire of you and cast you off to face the dangers on your own. It didn’t take long to realize that he wanted you around for company as much as you needed him for protection. You had lost track of the times he had threatened to leave you behind only to swoop in and save you anyways.

It only took a moment for you to clean up the small camp. You had only set up a few hours before, but the Hound was right. You couldn’t really sleep outside if there would be a downpour. The two of you normally found a barn to hole up in at night, but there hadn’t been much along this road. You were surprised that there was even an inn nearby.

The Hound grabbed you by the waist, lifting you onto the horse with ease before climbing on behind you. He pulled you close to him, making sure you were settled against him and your arm wrapped around him to steady yourself before he rode. Sometimes you found yourself falling asleep when the ride was smooth enough, your head laying on his armor clad chest. If he minded, he never said anything.

It was a short ride to the inn. The rain was just starting to come down as the Hound tied the horse up. You hurried into the shelter of the warm inn before the heavy rain could soak you through, the Hound shortly behind you.

The whole place was crowded with drunk, burly men. It was early in the evening, but it seemed they all had the same idea as the Hound. You spotted a few women you were sure were being paid by the hour but you weren’t sure where they had found themselves this far out in the middle of nowhere.

“Stay right here, I’ll get us rooms,” The Hound ordered. You nodded, sitting down at a table closest to the door as you watched your traveling companion part the crowd easily. Even drunk men knew not to get in the Hound’s way. If it wasn’t his brutal scar that scared them, it was the sheer size of him. You often found yourself wondering how big his mother had to have been to bore both him and the Mountain.

A low whistle caught your attention and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you spotted the source. A couple of men twice your age were making eyes at you from a table a few feet away. You looked back in the direction that the Hound had gone, hoping he would be quick about it. You busied yourself with your skirt, looking for loose threads you knew weren’t there. You cursed under your breath as you saw two pairs of feet out of the corner of your eye.

“What’s your name, love?” One man said. He was doughy and red faced. He looked like he had once been a good fighter but had let himself go, big arms and a round middle. You pretended you couldn’t hear him, your fists balled on your lap. You wished you could just tell him to fuck off. You knew Arya would. Your younger sister could be so much braver than you.

“He asked you a question,” The other said, grabbing your shoulder and turning you towards them. He was scrawny and his skin leathery, probably from too much time in the sun.

“I heard him,” You said, feeling a bit more defiant now that he had invaded your personal space.

“And you didn’t answer?” The scrawny one asked. “Very rude.”

“Makes me not want to tip you,” The doughy one said.

“I’m not a whore,” You said, your cheeks turning pink.

“Any woman’s a whore for the right price,” The doughy one said, his lips pulling back in a greasy smile.

“I’m traveling with my husband,” You lied. You stared back at the man, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

“I don’t see a husband,” The scrawny one said.

“Look harder.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, turning to see the Hound looming behind you, his eyes trained on the two men. He had one hand on the hilt of his large sword and the other on your shoulder. The two men looked up at the Hound, their eyes wide, their mouths agape.

“We’ll be going,” The doughy one said, backing away so quickly he stumbled and nearly fell onto the floor.

“What did I tell you?” The Hound asked as he sat down across from you. “You’re my wife now?”

“Men respect other men’s claim to a woman more than a woman’s claim to herself, unfortunately,” You said with a small shrug. It was something Lady Catelyn had taught you from a young age. There were many times when you had to pretend you were betrothed to Jon or Robb just to avoid a sticky situation with some lecherous lord.

“Aye, you’re right about that,” The Hound said.

“Did you get us rooms?” You asked.

“Just one,” He held up a single key. “Busy night.”

The rain started coming down harder, pounding on the roof of the inn as you and the Hound ate your dinner of kidney pie. The Hound seemed in a better mood than normal, most likely due to the steady intake of ale. He wasn’t drunk, as it would take a lot more than a few pints to intoxicate a man of his size, but he was certainly jollier. You could swear you even saw a smile on his face when you got up from the table.

He led you up the stairs and down the hall. The room you were to share was all the way at the end. As the storm raged outside, you were grateful to even get a roof over your head for the night.

The Hound unlocked the door, letting you enter first. The storm had scared off any summer heat, making the small room slightly chilly, but the feather bed in the middle of the room had a big fur blanket. You were full and sleepy, ready to crawl right under it. You started untying the front of your dress and you expected the Hound to make another comment about modesty but instead he just sat down at the little table by the window, absently looking at the rain slapping against the stained glass.

You pulled your dress off, leaving you in your thin slip again. You climbed into the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. After months of sleeping on the hard ground or the occasional bale of hay, the soft feather bed felt better than anything you had ever touched. You were nearly asleep when you realized the Hound was still sitting stiff upright in his wooden chair, his arms crossed and nodding off. When you slept outside, he didn’t remove his armor in case you needed to make a quick getaway but you thought that behind a locked door, safe for the night, he would at least make himself comfortable.

“Hound,” You said, making his head jerk up, looking annoyed. “Are you just going to sit there all night?”

“Slept in worse places, believe me,” He said.

“There’s a perfectly good half of the bed right here,” You said, patting the spot next to you. The Hound’s jaw tensed. “I promise not to hog the blankets.”

“Not right,” He said it so quietly you were sure you misheard him. You laughed slightly.

“You aren’t known for your chivalry, Hound,” You said. “Surely you’ve shared a bed with a woman before.” You could almost swear you saw him blush.

“Fuck off.”

“Sleep on the end like a dog if you must, live up to your name,” You said, sitting up fully. You saw his eyes flick down to your slip again. “But if you don’t get in this damned bed I’ll just stay up and annoy you all night and neither of us will sleep.”

“Just shut up.” He finally got up, unbuckling his armor. He was about the only person you had seen who could do it himself. Years of practice, you supposed. Most people didn’t want to get near enough to help him.

In just his underclothes, he blew out the candles on the table and climbed into the bed next to you in the total blackness of the room. You felt the bed shift under his weight, rolling you slightly towards him, but he was careful not to let your bodies touch. You could feel the heat radiating off him. You thought how nice he would be to curl against on some of those cold nights you had spent up north and found yourself blushing.

“Goodnight, Hound.”

“Go the fuck to sleep.”

You woke up in a cold sweat. You were almost grateful for the crack of thunder that had awoken you. The nightmare you had, of watching your father’s head chopped off and seeing it mounted on a stick to rot, was one you didn’t mind being interrupted. You shivered, trying to calm your breathing, but with every lightning strike, you shook harder.

“You alright?” You had almost forgotten where you were until you heard the grumble from the Hound next to you. Remembering he was there made you feel a little better, even if he sounded annoyed at being roused from his sleep. You could see the vaguest outline of him in the flashes of light. He had his arm over his face as he laid on his back.

You nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you. “Sorry, I’m alright,” You confirmed.

“You’re not.”

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” You admitted.

There was a long moment of silence between you as you shivered despite the warmth beneath the blanket. “You gonna keep shaking like that?”

“Sorry,” You said again.

The Hound sighed heavily before taking his arm off of his face, wrapping it around you and pulling you flush against his side. His big, hairy arm felt secure around you. You rested your head on his chest, hearing the slow tick of his heart beneath you. You matched your breathing to his and you felt safe even as you heard the thunder outside. He fell asleep again quickly, but his arm remained tightly around you.

You almost fell back asleep yourself, but he turned in his sleep towards you, his other arm draping over you. He surrounded you, his large body sheltering you as you pressed both of your hands to his broad chest. He smelled like ale and leather and just slightly of sweat. You were used to it by now, after riding so close to him for so long. It was comforting. You let yourself press against him fully.

You could feel your cheeks turn red as you felt the rigid length on your thigh. You felt a sudden ache. It was the same one you got riding on his lap, when you found yourself thinking about what it might feel like to have his strong hands under your dress. You shifted yourself, throwing your leg over his, pressing your growing wetness against the growing bulge. You know you shouldn’t, but the slight friction made you bite your lip. You heard a soft groan come from the Hound’s throat, only serving to turn you on more. You wanted so badly for him to touch you.

You turned away from him, your bodies still pressed close and his arms still holding you close, your ass rubbing against his hardness. You cursed yourself for being so depraved as thoughts of the Hound taking you swam through your mind. All you wanted was to roll over and take every inch of him inside of you.

Without even thinking, you reached your hand down to the wetness between your thighs, feeling his arm under yours even as you slipped a finger into yourself. You could be quick and quiet about it and then just fall asleep. You bit your lip to keep silent as you rubbed your clit, trying to finish yourself without waking the Hound. You couldn’t help your ass grinding back against his groin. You were so close when he grunted, grabbing your hip, making you stop. You snatched your hand away.

“What are you doing?” He asked. His voice was so low and he was so close you could feel his words rather than hear them.

“Nothing,” You lied, your face burning bright red. You were glad the room was dark. He didn’t move his hand, he just let you lay in embarrassed silence. You could still feel that sharp ache, stronger now that you were so close.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

You let out an involuntary whimper, letting your hand drift back down to your center. You rubbed your ass against him as you slipped your fingers into your pussy. He groaned, squeezing your hip tighter.

“Sandor,” You whimpered as you rode your hand. His grip on you bordered on painful. You knew he wanted to touch you but wouldn’t let himself. Throwing all subtlety out the window, you grabbed his large hand from your hip and moved it between your thighs.

“Fuck,” He whispered as he felt how drenched you were for him. He slipped his middle finger into you. You dug your nails into his forearm, your head throwing back against him. You rode his hand, whimpering his name as you felt that band of tension snap when his thumb found your clit. You came apart in his arms, breathing hard.

He removed his hand from you, going back to its place around your waist. “Better?” He grunted from behind you. You nodded against him. “Good. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t you-,”

“I didn’t take you from the capital for that,” He bristled. You could tell you offended him.

“I know that,” You said. You knew how he felt about the knights that abused their power. You didn’t think you could be any clearer about how badly you wanted him. You reached behind you, grabbing his length through the fabric of his pants and making him shudder. He was painfully hard now. “Please.”

“Don’t be begging like that, girl,” He groaned. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I’m not a virgin, I know what a cock feels like,” You said. You felt him tense at the word. “Though, your’s is a lot bigger.” The fight you got into with your brothers when they found out what you had been doing with Theon had barely been worth it. You felt like the Hound’s would be and you were desperate to find out. You dipped your hand below his waistband, grabbing him fully and making him curse, thrusting his hips into your hand. “I’ve been thinking about you fucking me since we got to King’s Landing.” He said your name with a warning tone. “Please, Sandor,” You stroked him again.

“Fucking hells.”

He pushed you onto your stomach, looming above you as he pushed his pants down. He pushed into you with one thrust, making you gasp and clutch the sheets. He held your hips as he rutted into you, grunting with every thrust. You were stretched so tightly around him you could feel every inch of him as he moved.

“Cum inside me,” You heard yourself saying. You wanted to feel every part of him.

“Fuck,” The Hound groaned. He pulled out of you, sitting up on the bed and you were about to protest but he moved you again, moving you onto his lap. He watched your face as you felt him slide into you again. He pulled at the straps of your slip, letting it pool at your waist. He looked over your chest hungrily before leaning in, taking a nipple into his mouth, raking his teeth across it.

You moved your hips, making him groan low in his throat. He released your breast, wrapping his arms around you. You lifted your hands to grab his face. He flinched as you made contact with the burnt flesh, but he let you hold his face as he thrusted up into you. You pressed your lips to his. Oddly, this felt more intimate than having him full hilt inside of you.

You moved in sync with him, feeling him deep inside of you as he released, a shudder running through him. You pressed your forehead to his as you both breathed heavily. He kept his arms around you, holding you close to him.

A clap of thunder made you jump and he squeezed you tighter, a rumbling laugh coming from the Hound beneath you. You had forgotten all about the storm raging outside. He pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your temple.

“Don’t worry about the storm.”

#there was only one bed #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones reader insert #reader insert #reader insert smut #smut #reader insert fanfiction #GOT fanfiction #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor clegane smut #the hound

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capituloperdido1 · 3 years

Text

ACOSAS Chp5

Happy Friday Everyone,

I apologize ahead for the short chapter, I've been traveling a lot the last couple of days and have not been able to write as much as i wanted. I promise to come back with 2 chapters next week.

As always, let me know if you have any feedback, or if you want to be added to the list.

Enjoy!

Warnings: sexual language, but other than that pure fluff.

Gwyn's stomach was fluttering as she walked behind the shadowsinger, Azriel's look towards her still piercing her even after five long minutes of walking. She checked herself again, her dress, her shoes, her necklace; she could not see her face but tried to touch and check if there was anything on her face.

Trying to decipher this male was more complicated than all the tasks she had done for Merrill.

The way he had just looked at her was just... lustful.

She had felt his scent changing as he took her in, combined with the intensity of his gaze.

But she still was not going to accept that it was out of attraction, there had to be another explanation. Because Azriel had too much history of tangling himself with far more beautiful women.

Elain... Mor...

She had heard bits and pieces from Nesta about the shadow's singer's love life. She knew from these short conversations that Azriel did not think himself worthy of having someone who chose him first.

She also knew that at the moment, he was pinning over the middle Archeron sister, graceful and wonderful in her own essence.

She could not blame him, from what she had seen of Elain, she was the beauty of the sisters. Her whole presence was light, class, and divinity. Even she would probably fall for Elain if she had the chance.

So there was no way he was looking at her with attraction, she probably had something on her face.

Feeling her stomach flutter even more at the idea of Azriel being attracted to her, she blurred "i read something really interesting today, about the history of Valkyries".

Azriel stopped, waiting for her to catch up to him, "i saw you reading today. I'm sorry i did not pay attention to you earlier"

"No! no please don't worry," she said, grabbing his elbow slightly, "it's not something that important anyway. I mean, the temples were probably destroyed after the Valkyries were ambushed".

"temples?" Azriel looked towards her confused.

She blushed slightly at the sight of his eyes, "right... i should start in the beginning. Basically, Valkyries were training in temples all across Prythian. They each specialized in different forms of training and powers, each court held a temple that would train females of all ages. Once their training was complete, they would be sent to a temple at the border of the Spring and Summer court. They called it Ivor, and it was said to be in a jungle-like environment that allowed only the worthy to pass through. Amanecer told me that this temple held the final test of the Valkyrie, only the women who passed through were considered full Valkyries."

She stopped, afraid she was rambling and talking incoherently.

Azriel looked amazed, "Ivor... I remember Ivor, there were rumors of soldiers who were male that were killed after setting foot there".

Gwyn's eyes opened widely, sometimes she forgot how old he was.

He continued, "it is weird i had forgotten about the temples, i remember Rhys, Cass and i would read about them. Mother.. even Rhy's sister dreamed about training in the temple of the Summer Court".

She smiled sadly, the mention of her high lord's sister squeezing her heart a bit. "So many women could've been warriors, they could've helped the last war", she looked at Azriel, "many of us could've been saved from so many tragedies if we only knew how to defend ourselves".

"There is no doubt in my mind that you would've kicked some Hybern ass out there in the battlefield. Everyone would've been scared shitless of the redhead Valkyrie running towards them", he said jokingly.

She laughed, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.

"In all seriousness, besides looking for the trove, we should definitely try to figure out how we can incorporate all of these Valkyrie books in our training. We have expanded in the last couple of months, but i know many more females have heard about you guys and want to train with you. That includes Amanecer" Azriel said.

She blushed, looking down to her hands, "thank you Azriel, we will. I will make sure every female at least hears about us, and i will help them as much as i can."

The sound of fair music interrupted their conversation, Gwyn directed her view towards the street they were approaching. Stores overwhelmed the view of the road, vendors selling sweets, foods, clothing, armor and art. The smell of fresh fruits and vegetables filled her nose as she took in the sight before her.

The noise, the sight, the smell...

She was actually in a city, it was not Velaris but it was a place where normal people would go to.

She saw a few people walking, living in their own worlds as if nothing could suddenly happen that would change that.

There were only about fifteen walkings, but for Gwyn, that felt like if a pride of people was coming to surround her.

Her throat began to close, her heart racing faster by the second.

Vile rose at her throat, sweat poured through her pores.

She could not breathe, she needed to run away and get to a safe place.

She tried and failed to control her emotions, telling herself that it was fine. That all the people around her would not hurt her.

But she could not stop the panic rising in her body.

She took a step back, ashamed and humiliated.

She could not do it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Azriel's eyes were closed, taking in the delicious smell of spices traditional to the Day court. Out of all the things he had missed from visiting Helion, the food was at the top of his list. He remembers the night where Helion would take him walking through the city, feeding him all types of meats, rice, vegetables.

He smiled to himself, remembering when life had been a little easier.

His shadows began swirling fast around him, trying to catch his attention.

Panic, she is in panic.

Mistress is in distress.

She is leaving.

Azriel opened his eyes, turning towards the priestess.

Her brave face had turned into panicked and terrorized as she took steps to retreat from the city. Her eyes were sad, and she seemed to avoid his looks, afraid that he would judge her if she decided not to go through with this.

He extended his arms towards her, "we have two options, you can either tell me to take you back to the palace, and we will try again tomorrow. Or you can take a step forward, grab yourself on to me and look forward."

Her blue eyes shined with tears as she looked at him, hesitant to take that step.

Come on Gwyn, tiptoe if you must, but take a step towards me.

Her eyes widened, and Azriel blushed slightly at the realization that he had said that out loud.

She took one step towards him,

Two

Three

And then she grabbed his arm, looking straight in his eyes.

His shadows began to envelop themselves onto Gwyn, surrounding her arm and holding her.

She smiled again, turning her face and looking forward, "let's do this".

They take a step forward, and soon they are surrounded by the city lights.

Azriel guides her towards the small bookstore that he had visited all those years ago. The owner was an old fae who had collected books from the continent throughout the years, all genres and authors in his small stall.

Not surprisingly, Gwyn ends up almost buying the whole store. Enjoying particularly the romance section.

"This one is definitely Nesta's level of romance," she says, showing him the brown leather book with yellow pages.

"What is it about?" he says.

"A romance between an assassin and the princess" she hands him the book, "look, maybe you will finally read some good literature. Not those boring war books"

He smiles, opens the book in a random chapter, and begins reading.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted the ache. I wanted him in me, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted to squeeze him in further and further. I wanted to watch his face. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me.

I got on top of him. Letting my breasts touch his face as i held him and put him in. He felt so warm in me.

I'll never forget it.

His face as i took control and he liked it. As i held his hands down and moved on top of him.

Azriel felt heat rising up his cheeks, looking shocked at Gwyn, "all you guys read is smut".

She flushed, noticing the page he now held open. Her face now of regret as she tried to take the book away from him, "that was just a coincidence. If you had opened any other page there would've been romance and adventure. This author writes really passionate romances, it just you don't know anything about romance".

He laughed, extending his arm high up so she would not be able to catch it.

Is that how she likes it? does she like to control? Words screaming in his mind.

He looked down at her neck once again, noticing the pendant moving as she jumped up trying to reach for the book. He noticed the red lips that pouted as she grew frustrated. He noticed the flushed cheeks giving away her shyness and embarrassment.

He stared at her intensely. She looked so flustered, that his mind could not help but wonder if she could be flustered in many other ways. After a kiss to her cheek, or to her mouth, or her neck. After a passionate encounter between them.

She stopped jumping, catching his strong gaze.

Her face became even redder. Which she quickly tried to hide as she looked down and began playing with her hair. Grabbing pieces of hair and tugging them behind her ear.

Azriel's temperature begins to rise at the sight of the smooth skin of her neck, the urge of grabbing it and kissing it overtaking him.

The image of Gwyn grabbing his wrist while on top of him on his mind.

Wait... What, he thinks.

Clearing his throat he extends his arm towards her and gives her the book back, "would you like to walk for a couple more minutes?"

She nods, still flushed and looking everywhere but him.

Idiot, you made her uncomfortable.

"I will take you to a couple more stores before we go, are you comfortable with that?" he asks.

"Y..yeah, it's just a bit chilly now. But i want to keep walking, if that's okay" she says, her voice soft and low.

Without thinking twice, he takes off his leather jacket, placing it around her shoulders.

Gwyn lifts her teal eyes towards him and smiles, "thank you".

They keep walking around the boardwalk, neither of them physically touching each other in fear of making a wrong move. Gwyn stops in a store that sells handicrafts traditional to the Day court. Telling him that she wants to take the chance to buy as many gifts for her friends as possible.

He waits for her outside of the store, as she insisted to go inside by herself.

Sitting on the stairs leading into the small building, Azriel traces his thoughts back to their encounter in front of the bookstore.

He had been feeling pressure in his heart, ashamed and angry at himself for making her uncomfortable.

He had lost control over his feelings, letting his mind play dirty thoughts with someone who was most likely not interested in any sexual activity.

But his mind also took him to her beautiful face, the way she seemed to shine every time she looked at him. The way the necklace highlighted the divinity of the priestess. The way her red hair looked during the day. The way her eyes changed shades during sunrise, sunset, at night.

Something in him wanted more, he wanted to see what she looked like when she slept when she awoke in the morning.

He wanted to inspect her completely, find out if she had freckles anywhere else besides her face. He wanted to taste her lips and find out if they tasted as sweet as they looked.

Sighing, Azriel grabbed his hair and looked towards the floor, frustrated and now even more angry with his selfish mind.

He was lusting after the priestess, while had unresolved issues with two females who he had also lusted over.

Elain and Mor, the two women who he could not have.

What made him think that someone like Gwyn would ever choose him?

She had to know, Nesta would've told her.

Told her how much he had hurt Elain, how Mor had done horrible things just to keep him away from her. How he had pushed his feelings onto them without thinking about the women he claimed to love.

Both Elain and Mor deserved so much better.

Gwyn deserved someone better, not him.

He could never be what they needed, his past had been clear enough.

He was destined to love but never receive love back, he was destined to hurt, destined to be alone.

"Azriel?" her sweet voice came to his ears.

Mother, he was obsessed, even hearing her while daydreaming about her.

"Azriel" sounded again.

The light and soft pressure of her hands on his arms startled him.

He looked up, finding the female looking at him with worry.

"are you alright?" she said

He quickly stood, "y...yeah I'm sorry, i was falling asleep", he lied.

She smiled, extending a paper bag towards him, "well we can head home after you open this".

A small pearl bracelet of blues and whites welcomed him once he opened the bag. White, teal, and navy blue pearls cold and smooth as he touched them.

"I know you probably won't always use it, but I wanted to give it to you, as a thank you for everything you have done for me," she said, flushing slightly.

Azriel's heart threatened to beat out of his chest, a knot forming in his throat.

No, I definitely do not deserve her. He thought.

"I will wear it, every single day," he said, putting the bracelet in his scarred hands.

She smiled, "Want me to put it on you?" extending her hands towards him.

He nods, looking at her smooth skin touching the imperfections of his hands. Looking at how the beautiful bracelet contrasted with the horrors of his skin.

"Beautiful," she said.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Neither of them said anything else as they walked back to the castle, both seemed too busy in their own minds to concern themselves with conversation.

They parted ways, promising each other to sleep only a few hours before meeting for their next challenge.

They go into their rooms, falling on their beds and closing their eyes as they hold on to that new piece of each other.

Gwyn smells the male she loves, covering herself with his jacket as she falls into a deep sleep.

Azriel touches the pearls, his mind imagining each color and what it represents. The navy blue of his siphons, which had and will dust anyone who might hurt her. White of her robes, the purity, and innocence of her heart. Teal of her beautiful eyes, that always looked at him so hopeful, so happy, so proud.

Even though the nightmares came, even though they were even more horrible than the ones before.

Neither of them noticed.

Whether by their exhaustion or by what they held so tightly, the couple awoke unaware of the terrors their mind just had endured.

Their only thought was each other.

TAGLIST: @imsointobooks @gwynkyrie @trashforazriel @meher-sumedha

Chapter 6

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

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whispelanix · 3 years

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Gameplay features we should have in a future Fallout title

Based on what we’ve had in previous games. Just some random storyline stuff and game stuff I’ve enjoyed so far:

Regions (Fallout 4, 76): Yes, I know every game has regions, but I'm talking about the difference in how life grows in certain areas and the level of radiation in said area kind of thing. The regions in 76 have so much personality. Fallout 4 only had the Commonwealth/Glowing Sea as its base game regions in how nature has evolved, but in 76 it's so diverse. Different mutated creatures are more native to different areas, and it has the flora to go alongside with it.

Plans (Fallout 76): Yeah, most of the 3D Fallout games has a few schematics for some weapons, and maybe a small variety of unique consumables, but I like how 76 makes you actually work and spend caps for Plans in order to know how to make something new. Not just weapons, but food, drinks, armor, workshop, etc. Because if this was real life, you wouldn't magically know how to make everything all of a sudden. They keep basic knowledge food items like deathclaw steak, which you can just cook up, as recipes you already know and you find recipes for more "advanced" dishes, and I really enjoy that.

Consumables System (Fallout 76): The amount of variety you have in regards to consumables in this game is amazing. There's so many mutated animals to cook up, so many plants to make soup, and you can make tea and even make juice out of something like mutfruit. I also love the additions we can put into consumables now (sugar, salt, pepper, honey, and we FINALLY have milk). So what they gave us in Fallout 4 with the better cooking aspects has been taken to new heights. Your food spoils now, and boiling water doesn't purify it, it just makes it boiled, which means you NEED a purifier to make it clean.

Eating/Drinking consumables without using Pip-Boy (Fallout 76): This is extremely useful, especially in an online game, and I think it'd work well in single player as well. You no longer have to hoard a bunch of stuff to just eat it, you now have the option to eat it on the spot as well, and move on with your life.

Layered Armor System and the ability to wear costumes over them (Fallout 4, 76): Fallout 4 introduced to us the layered armor system, which is one of the greatest things we've been given in regards to customizing outfits in the game, and now with Fallout 76 we have two different outfit options, armor and clothing. Now, not only can we wear underarmor and armor over it to protect us, but we now have coveralls as well to do so in style whilst retaining the effects of whatever else we wear underneath it.

Distant Weather Systems (Fallout 76): Pretty self explanatory - the ability to see storms coming from a distance as well as nuclear explosions along the horizon is pretty great if you ask me.

Faction Reputation (New Vegas, Fallout 76): I really like these features, because let's be honest, you can't stay on everyone's good side forever. There was only one case of this in Fallout 4, and that was the "You are now enemies with X faction". That ain't good enough. If we could get a mix of the faction reputation system in NV/76, I would be very pleased.

Karma and Affinity (Fallout 3, New Vegas, Fallout 4): The ultimate decider of good and evil. While in NV you had reputations amongst different factions, the karma system is the ultimate decider of where you stand in the wasteland. I like the individual Affinity system with companions as well, because it gives you the chance to either be a certain way, or pretend to act a way to gain trust. I can see why Karma was removed in 4 though, because Karma is based upon what everyone in the wasteland knows of you, so that would've limited the ability to stay on all the companions good sides if your Karma was at a certain level. If there was a way to balance it out though, that would be great. Or maybe they could find a way to make Karma separate from companions, and still make it work out nicely with their individual Affinity.

Maybe Karma in regards to companions could be the determiner of "first impressions", and then the Affinity you develop with them is the determiner of who you really are. They did a reversal of this in Fallout 4 where companions such as Cait, MacCready and Hancock have a more badass reputation when you first meet them, but as you get to know them you find they've been through a lot of suffering. But they still keep their initial reputation among outsiders. If it can be done with NPC's, who's to say it can't be done with the player?

"You are now dressed as a member of X" (New Vegas): The ability to disguise ourselves as members of different factions was a great addition, and really should be bought back. You can get into places you couldn't before, amongst people you normally couldn't, but I think if it's bought back, then factions you work alongside with should be able to detect whether or not it's you, unless you wear a mask or a facial covering.

Clothing is as clothing does (Fallout 4, 76): Suits shouldn't just magically turn into dresses just because you decided to play as a female. If you wanna alternate between "male" and "female" versions of an outfit, then let there just be suit/dress versions of certain styles of clothing. I liked how 4/76 did this, because now, if you wanna be a guy in a dress. Guess what? You can be a guy in a dress.

Workshops and C.A.M.P features (Fallout 4, 76): I doubt we're going to get the ability to make an obnoxious amount of settlements again (maybe), but I admire the chance we're given to build and really make a part of the wasteland our own, and I even more so love how 76 really gives us all those buildings and furniture and decorations to really personalize what you have. Who knows, maybe a future title will give us a combination of workshops you naturally have in place for construction, settlements to help build up (because saving the day always seems to be the job of the player), and then C.A.M.Ps that we as the player can move wherever we like. Maybe we could be given the option to build campsites for other NPCs as a temporary or permeant home. Maybe what we build up will have the ability to be destroyed like in 76.

Grey Morality/Politics (A bit over all titles, talking especially about New Vegas, The Pitt, things of the sort): The factions we were given in NV all had good and bad sides to them, making it sometimes difficult to have a truly perfect utopia. I hope we get back more morally grey choices as well as factions and politics, or instances in where there is no right answer other than wrong and a little less wrong. I don't really need to explain in detail, you've seen how things have played out across titles.

Old Dialogue System (Every game but Fallout 4): Options yes, no, no but actually yes and sarcasm aren't good enough. I love the cinematic aspect FO4 had, don't get me wrong, but conversation is so limited. I also loved the ridiculous way the camera would zoom right on someone's face (I feel sometimes in 76 you can just be way too far from someone talking sometimes) and I'd like to be able to walk out of the conversation whenever I want as well.

Certain Perks/Stats result certain outcomes (Most of the old titles): I wanna be able to get away with low intelligent speeches, flirt with people to get my way, things of the sort. Pretty simple.

That's all I've got for now since I've been working on this list for hours but yeah. Feel free to add things you'd like to see. Personality I'd just like to see the best features and aspects taken from all the games to create the "ultimate Fallout experience".

#fallout #stuff #thoughts #idk

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years

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MER Week #1 - “Fun” in the sun

Summary: Alistair Shepard doesn’t want to take a vacation. Unfortunately for him, Dr. Chakwas disagrees. Lucky for him, he’s at least got a buddy to complain about it with. Nothing like having your pilot there - now if only they could agree on the Normandy’s gender. Oh well, they got time until the Normandy’s fixed.

---

There was nothing like a sunny beach to remind Alistair Shepard that he hated beaches and the sun.

“Get some sun, she said, it’s good for you… pretty sure a doctor is supposed to warn you against skin cancer, but what do I know? I’m just a medic…”

Maybe it was a little immature, but he definitely kicked at the sand in front of him. Perhaps if he had been in a better mood, he would have appreciated the fact it was blue and sparkly. However, even that couldn’t save him as he scowled down at his feet. Right then, it was just an insult to his growing injury.

He would have rather been going off and finding the collectors, but something wrong with the Normandy had led them to stopping on the planet while the techs figured it out. Even then, he would have preferred getting his hands dirty getting the sexiest ship he had ever seen airborne. However, he wasn’t – he wasn’t allowed.

Yes, allowed was the correct word this time. He may not have been under the Alliance at the moment, what with being dead and all, but Alistair still had to follow orders. In this case, they were the doctor’s. Dr. Chakwas had called him in not long after they had landed, showing him his latest readings. His stress was through the roof, and he was going through anxiety pills like there was no tomorrow.

He had, of course, tried to argue it was a result of coming back to life, but she hadn’t believed him. Honestly, he hadn’t even really believed it himself as he had said it. Lying really wasn’t one of his fortes. Fixing shit, hamsters – he was good with those. Lying, not so much. That was why people called him a boy scout. Well, that and he listened to doctor’s orders. He had only wished those orders hadn’t involved kicking him out of the airlock after making him change his clothes in the medbay. Apparently, armor wasn’t really appreciated on a beach.

Fine… if he got his ass shot, he was blaming her. Besides, she would be the one patching him up anyway. Hooray for pyrrhic victories.

“Investigate the beach my ass…” he sighed, running a hand over his hair as he sat back in his seat. From where he was sitting under a beach umbrella, it was all bright skies and warm waters. And sand. So much fucking sand. The shit was everywhere, including on him. At least the sand he was used to was pale enough to not show up against his skin. This shit, oh, this shit was going to be fucking annoying. It was making him sparkle like a fucking 21st century vampire, even as he tried to avoid it.

And even if he could, he wasn’t allowed back on the ship until it was fixed… so he was stuck under that beach umbrella, devoted to people watching and trying not to fry.

You know you don’t have to stay under the umbrella, Commander. You could use some sun.

It was rare for Dr. Chakwas to come in through his omni-tool, but no doubt she could sense a disturbance in the force. That, or she had a camera on him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t put him in a good mood as he stretched out. At least the chair was somewhat comfortable, but that wasn’t saying much.

“I go out there and I’m a lobster in five minutes.” He adjusted his sunglasses, laying back. “No, Taako’s good out here. In fact, if you need me to come back and supervise the re- “

No.

Her voice was as flat as the beach and just as stinging. Alistair scowled at this as he let out a sigh. Well, it had been worth the effort. Persistence was one of his strong suits – or was it one of his flaws? Eh, it depended on who you asked. Right then, Dr. Chakwas was definitely considering it the latter of her tone was anything to go by.

Couldn’t blame him for trying though.

You need the rest, Commander. Your heart rate has been far too elevated. Even a new heart can’t take the strain for long.

“I know… but couldn’t I do it inside?” There was no missing the sulking tone to his voice as he sighed again. “At least then I could hang out with Saren.”

Grunt is taking excellent care of Saren. Now, take care of yourself. We have an estimated two hours until the repairs are complete.

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyeroll was hidden by his glasses as the call cut out. Once alone, Alistair shook his head and laid back. Maybe if he was lucky, nobody would pay attention to the sight of a pasty redhead hiding under a beach umbrella. If that was the case, he was content to try napping.

…

Well… he would’ve if he wasn’t reminded of the stupid sand, stupid water, and the fact he’d been kicked off his own ship for an enforced vacation.

“Fuck.”

“Hey, language. There are probably some kids around here. Do you want them picking up swear words from humanity’s first Spectre?”

A new voice drew Alistair’s attention as he sat up, pushing his sunglasses to his forehead. Someone had taken the seat next to him, stretching out in a way they clearly didn’t get to normally. It took him a second – normally, those hairy legs had pants on them – but he knew the face and the laugh anywhere as reality set back in.

“Joker?”

“What, did you think you were the only one to get vacation exiled? The techs said I kept interfering with their tests on the Normandy.” The pilot nudged a can over. He came bearing Sprite. This was why he was Alistair’s favorite. “Figured a peace offering would help your mood some.”

It did. The Spectre was more than happy to accept the can and take a deep sip. Something about cold sugar water did wonders to elevate his mood, and when he sat back again he didn’t feel quite as pissed. He was still pissed, mind you, but it wasn’t as bad. Honestly, he had gone to sub krogan rampage to annoyed hamster honestly.

What, the Normandy was his ship. He didn’t like people messing with it.

“Thanks.”

Joker chuckled as he leaned back, enjoying the shade. “Surprised you’re not out there swimming or whatever normal people do at the beach. Chakwas gave you the swim binder, right?”

Yes, he was wearing it underneath the short-sleeved jacket he had managed to grab before being forced out of the airlock in nothing but flip-flops and a pair of board shorts. It was just as uncomfortable as his regular one, but there was strange comfort in that. At least there was something familiar for him.

“I don’t like going around in just a binder.” His words trailed off as he felt his cheeks heat, even in the summer sun. “Besides, that way I can keep you company. Can’t have my best pilot breaking anything trying to impress the ladies.”

Next to him, Joker snorted. “Unless you’re cheating on me behind my back, I’m your only pilot. Besides, you know that the Normandy’s my only lady, Commander.”

Alistair found himself snickering as well as he allowed his sunglasses to fall back over his eyes. “That’s too bad, because I’m fairly certainly the Normandy is a man. And you can’t argue with me, it’s my ship and I get to make the rules.”

Well, at least the rules that didn’t concern throwing him out the airlock. Apparently, he could be overruled there. Wasn’t that technically mutiny? When he got back on the Normandy, he would need to look into that. Maybe he would finally get to toss some people out the airlock. Consider it returning the favor…

Wow, he could just feel the little red number in the back of his mind go up with that one.

“Damn, now you got me right in the middle of insubordination. Going to have to disagree, because after flying her, I know she’s a woman.” Joker was still grinning as the two of them did their best to avoid the sun. “You sure you’re not getting the wires crossed, Commander?

“I am the biggest fucking homosexual you know, Jeff Moreau. I know a sexy man’s energy when I see it.”

The two paused, fixing each other with a deadpan glance. The beach was now their battleground, two opposing forces meeting in the no man’s land where neither would give ground. It was an old war, one that would have no victors.

Naturally, it only took them a few seconds to break once everything sunk in.

A few seconds later, the laughter started with two octaves harmonizing in a weird staccato that made Alistair’s insides feel like something had just been scraped out. It was stupid, he knew it was, but something about the whole argument just made him want to laugh harder. For once, he didn’t argue – down he went, doubled over as tears beaded in his eyes.

Joker wasn’t much better, but he was a bit more careful. After all, the two were tied neck and neck for most ribs broken on the Normandy. Chakwas wouldn’t want him pulling ahead and obtaining the dubious honor, so he made sure not to break anything as he leaned against the armrest of his chair, turning red.

Clearly, they were both going insane. But at least they weren’t alone.

“Man energy… right.” It took a few shaky breaths for the pilot to regain his normal tone. His cheeks were still a little red, even under the beard. Of course, that was nothing compared to his commanding officer – Alistair knew he probably looked like a tomato right then. “Shit, I needed that.”

The Spectre nodded as he moved his sunglasses to wipe away a tear. “Same here. Maybe that’s why we got kicked off the Normandy.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s because they don’t want you crawling around and getting stuck somewhere. It’s kind of embarrassing to have to rescue your CO from the ducts.” Joker chuckled as Alistair turned redder. They still weren’t letting him live that down – it was one time! “Apart from the whole dying thing, it’s a miracle you made it to 30 honestly.”

Now it was Alistair’s turn to chuckle as he replaced his sunglasses. “I’m only 29, actually. My birthday’s not for – “

He paused, sitting up when he realized Joker had stopped talking. When he lifted his sunglasses, he realized the man was staring at him, wide-eyed like he had just announced that the vorcha had just gotten a seat on the Council. No, it was worse than that – somehow, it could be. He was downright gobsmacked.

“What, did I say something weird?”

His words snapped the pilot out of it. Joker shook his head, coming back to life. “No, it’s just… damn, Commander. You’re younger than me?”

…

“You’re older than me?”

Now they were both staring at each other, finding it hard to say anything. Alistair should have been used to this, given his rather quick rise in rank and the weird position he occupied. A number of people under him were older, probably a decade or more in some accounts. Yet he had never extended that thought to Joker, despite everything.

Shit, was he honestly even 29? He had been dead those two years and all…

“Damn, we got a kid leading us against the Collectors.” Joker chuckled despite everything. “No wonder you don’t drink, they probably wouldn’t let you in the bar.”

The Spectre resisted the urge to stick out his tongue as he returned to laying down. “Don’t hate on me, old man. I can’t help the baby face.”

“Hey, with age comes wisdom. If I had a lawn, I’d tell you to get off it.” Joker chuckled as he leaned back as well. “Guess I can tell you to pull up your pants or something. That’s what wise elders do, right?”

His pants were always pulled up, thank you very much… it kept his dick in. You try managing two pairs of underwear and a packer if your pants are too low.

Still, Alistair found himself in a much better mood as he let the heat take him over. The sound of the waves, coupled by the bubbling in his ignored can of soda, were almost soothing as he felt his eyes grow heavy.

“You look like you’re about to conk out, Commander.”

He answered with a yawn, eyes finally closing all the way. “I think you might be on to something there, Joker. Wake me up if it looks like I’m about to get roasted.”

There was a soft chuckle to his side. “Alright, but I’m taking pictures for the rest of the crew.”

Alistair could live with that. And so he did, as he felt himself drifting off to the weird dream-free zone he often found himself in. Maybe it was the sound of the waves, or the dark coolness brought on by the overhead umbrella. Whatever it was, he gave himself over to a much-needed nap time.

Somewhere, Chakwas would be proud of him. Look at him, following doctor’s orders like a good boy. Maybe he would make it to 30 after all.

#merweek2021 #this is so dumb #but it made me laugh #Alistair Shepard #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Joker has a little crush on Al he's totally admiring the view #not that he realizes that #Al is the king of bi awakenings #joker mass effect

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Did You Know?

Prompt: the merlin fic you wrote with a crying arthur who didn't realize he had a hand in normalizing merlin to physical pain/punishment is HEARTBREAKING and i couldn't help but think while reading it that merlin may have just assumed that the knights and arthur //knew// visting knights were handsy w him and just didnt care, like he just thought it was normal and they would expect nothing less. anyway if u wanna write something that has that kind of idea/vibe i'd be delighted to read it! love u <3

Ahh yes more h/c here we go

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: visiting nobles and knights are dicks. implied/referenced rape/non-con and abuse NOTHING EXPLICIT

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 3031

Merlin is…confused.

He’s doing his job as a servant—not that he’s begrudging his position that much, destiny is destiny, after all—and putting up with all the things that servants are supposed to put up with.

The learning curve was very steep, don’t get him wrong. Coming from Ealdor, where the only authority figure he absolutely had to listen to was his mum, and straight into Camelot’s complex authority structure with rules and consequences and all the messy trappings of those horrid make-believes he and Will used to do when they were little boys. Hell, he ended his first full day in Camelot arrested, relying only on Gaius’s social powers in court to get him released. He’s not exactly a beacon of well-mannerisms.

So if it took him a while to get used to the type of work Arthur was going to have him do, that’s fine! He’s never had to put armor on anyone before, let alone the Crown Prince, who expected him to do all that and then some. He’s never known how to clean shiny pieces of metal that just serve to attract more attention than they’re worth, they never had shiny pieces of metal other than coin. And he’s certainly never known how to dodge swords being swung at his head. Never.

It wasn’t expected—no, it wasn’t, you prat—for him to be able to shrug on all these new responsibilities, even if he had been trained as a servant, because he’s never done them before. Thank the gods for Gwen, honestly, who was more than happy to make sure he at least knew how to hold a sword without cutting himself.

“Here’s the next one,” she’d called, handing him the next training sword from the batch, “now, try again.”

“This is the rag, this is the polish, and we just—ow!”

“Try not to polish the edge of the blade, Merlin.”

“I knew that,” he had muttered sheepishly, rubbing the cloth over the flat of the blade this time, “but thank you.”

Gwen had rolled her eyes fondly. “Just keep trying, you’re doing great.”

So he had just…done his best to learn what to do. Which would’ve been easier had he also not been learning how to act.

‘Yes, sire.’

‘No, sire.’

‘As you wish, sire.’

‘Sire’ this and ‘sire’ that and bloody hell, why is he not allowed to say anyone’s bloody name?

Formalities have never really been Merlin’s strong suit, not that he’s ever really needed them. And now that he has to use them, he’s starting to regret not paying attention to his mum’s scoldings. Just a little bit. Not that much. It’s not entirely his fault, is it, that those lectures were so boring and there were things he could’ve been doing.

But here…

Here, if he doesn’t address someone the right way, he gets cuffed around the head. The first time it happened, his hand flew to his head in shock. It wasn’t a particularly hard slap—he’s had worse walking into the door by himself—but the fact that someone was allowed to hit him, was expected to hit him, and it was his own fault was…jarring.

He learns his lesson about trying to hit back much quicker.

He still slips up from time to time, even now, after so many years, but his reflexes have gotten a lot better. Goblets, combs, hunks of bread, boots, staffs, just about every object he can think of, he’s had thrown at his head. With Arthur, it’s fine, he can snipe back perfectly well on his own, and it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He just bites back enough to make it a little more bearable. And besides, Arthur hasn’t ever seriously hurt him, maybe because he’s always lauding about how strong he is and how weak Merlin. Doesn’t want to break him.

And he can get away with it with some of the knights. The close ones, sure. Leon—well, he doesn’t try that much shite with Leon. Leon’s terrifying, not just because he’s one of the oldest knights and the longest-serving of Arthur’s inner circle, but because he knows things. Leon’s perception scares the hell out of Merlin, not in the least because he’s got so much to hide.

Does he ever think Leon would seriously hurt him? No, but he might tell people who would.

Percival is a big man. His arms are about the size of Merlin’s skull. He doesn’t want to get near that man’s bad side, even if he hasn’t found it yet.

Elyan is sneaky. He’s got just enough say to be dangerous, not enough to be an obvious suspect. And he’s got Gwen on his side—or more specifically, Gwen’s got him on her side. Gwen would never hurt him, he knows, he trusts her too much.

Lancelot is the only one he’s not afraid of, him and Gwaine. Mainly because he knows that they know.

…look, you do what Merlin’s been doing for as long as he’s been doing it, you slip up. It happens.

��But Lancelot never looked at him differently. Never raised a hand to him to hurt him, always touched him gently, spoke softly, sparred with him in good faith. Even when he swings a spear at him in jest, it’s never too fast to actually bruise him if it connects.

Gwaine slaps him on the shoulder, claps him on the back, hard enough to bruise sometimes, but he cares. He hides it well—well, sort of—and looks out for Merlin when Lancelot can’t. But he knows Gwaine has a breaking point, and he’s not super keen on looking for it.

He can get away with it. A little. Not a lot.

But only with them.

With the other knights…

One of the hardest things he had to learn was that no one cared.

When a knight smacks him over the head with the flat of a dulled blade, it doesn’t matter that the sight of a blade swinging at his freezes terror in his throat, nor that the ring of the blade won’t go away for three hours. The others will just laugh and tell him to move his arse.

When a knight knocks the equipment out of his hands and snarls at him to get moving, it doesn’t matter that it’s often accompanied by a boot to his ribs. He’ll always get elbowed in the exact same place later and they won’t care about his wince.

When a knight decides that he’s had enough of Merlin just looking at him, he—

The other thing that Merlin’s had to learn very, very quickly, is that it’s better him than the other servants.

He has Gaius. Gaius will patch him up, no questions asked. And when he can’t go to Gaius, it’s not like he’ll be caught lurking suspiciously in his own quarters. And when he can’t do that, he has his magic.

None of the others do.

So he learns. He picks up the things he needs to know, puts his head down, and bears it.

That’s what servants are supposed to do.

So you can imagine that when the others look absolutely horrified as he explains to them that he knows how this works, he’s learned, he’s confused.

“Come on, guys, it’s not like the other servants don’t know this.”

“It’s funny,” Gwaine growls, his fist tightening on the table, “how you think that makes this any better.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “I’m not a gossip, Gwaine—“

“That,” Elyan says, “is not true.”

“—okay fine, I enjoy a bit of the servant’s gossip as well as anyone, but not about this!” He shakes his head. “It’s fine, they know about it, it’s not like anyone cares.”

“See, Merlin,” Lancelot says quietly, “that’s where you’re wrong.”

Merlin frowns. What are they talking about? Who’s noticed? Is he doing it wrong? What does he need to fix?

See, his confusion only grows when he voices those concerns and the knights only seem to grow more upset.

“I can’t believe this,” Gwaine mutters, turning away, “how long has this been happening, Merlin?”

“Which part?”

Gwaine is doing a remarkable impersonation of someone who is extremely constipated. “…all of it.”

“I mean, it began as soon as I set foot in Camelot, if you want to go from the very beginning.”

Leon swallows. “And if we asked for you to be…more specific?”

Merlin huffs, throwing his arms up. “Why are you so concerned about this? It’s nothing to worry about!”

“You’re being abused, Merlin,” Arthur—since when has Arthur been this quiet?—says finally, looking at Merlin the same way he looked at Morgana when Uther strangled her against the back of the throne—see? It’s just something that happens here— “that’s definitely something to worry about.”

Merlin scoffs. “I’m not being abused, I’m just being treated like a servant.”

“If that’s what you think being treated like a servant means,” Gwaine says, standing, “then this conversation is going to take a lot longer than we thought.”

In response, Percival moves to stand in front of the door. Merlin sighs.

“You don’t have to block the exit, Percival, I know I’m not allowed to leave.”

A choked-off sound comes from Merlin’s left, followed by a muffled curse. Percival shakes his head.

“I’m over here to make sure no one else comes in to hurt you,” the knight says calmly, “not to make sure you don’t leave.”

“But if you want to,” Elyan says quickly, “you can.”

“No, no, I know a trap when I see one, no thank you.”

“It’s not a trap, Merlin,” Lancelot says, even as he looks to be about two seconds from crying for some reason, “if you truly wish to leave, you can. We won’t stop you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “…sure.”

Arthur lowers his head. Merlin frowns, watching his shoulders tense.

“Are you alright?”

He gets his answer in the form of many unshed tears welling up in Arthur’s eyes as he raises his head.

“No, Merlin,” he says in a remarkably steady voice, “I’m not. But don’t worry about me.”

“That’s my job,” Merlin insists, striding forward, “let me help.”

Arthur catches him gently—gently?—gently by the elbows as he reaches for him, smiling sadly.

“Can I give you another way to help me?”

Merlin swallows heavily. “…what does it entail, exactly?”

“For starters, explaining why that question has you shaking in your boots.”

“I’m not—“ Merlin looks down to see Arthur’s hands are just about the only thing holding him up— “oh.”

“Sit,” Leon encourages, bringing a chair over and crouching in front of it. Around him, the knights lower themselves to the ground, with the exception of Percival, still by the door.

“Merlin,” Leon calls again, “can I ask you some questions? If you don’t want to answer any of them, that’s alright, but may I ask?”

Merlin blinks. “Sure?”

He gets a nod of thanks. “What do you understand your duties as a servant to be?”

“To help with the running of the castle and take care of Arthur’s needs.”

“Which are?”

“What—“

“Please,” Arthur says softly, “please, Merlin, I know it sounds silly, but…please?”

Well, he’s never been very good at saying no to upset Arthur. He sighs.

“Keeping his chambers clean, keeping track of his laundry, dressing him in the mornings, polishing his armor, bringing him food, escorting him to court affairs, and any other odd jobs he asks me to do.”

Leon nods. “And what about the knights? Do you have duties with us, too?”

“I’m supposed to help you train and see to your immediate needs with those, too.”

“Such as?”

“Equipment, water, food, chambers—“

“Chambers?” Lancelot frowns. “Why would you need to see to our chambers?”

“Not yours, but the visiting knights.” Merlin frowns as Arthur’s hand twitches on his elbow. “What?”

“Do they presume that you are their servant,” Leon asks in a low voice, “when you do so?”

“I am, aren’t I?” He looks to Arthur. “You assign me to them.”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur corrects gently, still looking like he’s about two seconds from crying and still taking Merlin by surprise at how soft he’s being, “I ask you to get them settled, that’s all.”

Merlin blinks. “Oh. Uh…”

“What do they ask you to do,” Leon asks, “as their servant?”

He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Uh, change their sheets, see to their armor, start a fire, bring them dinner…”

Leon raises an eyebrow when he trails off. “Anything else?”

“They, um—“

Hands. Hands on his skin. Voices in his ear.

“Merlin.” Arthur gives him a shake. “Merlin.”

“Sorry,” he says instantly, “I just…”

He trails off again when he sees the absolutely heartbroken look on Arthur’s face.

“…Arthur?”

“Why,” Arthur whispers, “why do you let them…do that?”

Merlin frowns. “It’s fine.”

“It’s most certainly not fine.”

“It is,” Merlin argues, “it’s what servants are supposed to do, anyway, and it’s better me than the others.”

Gwaine muffles a curse again, and to his surprise, so does Lancelot.

“Merlin,” Leon says, calling his attention with how hoarse he sounds, “Merlin, why is it better you than the others if there’s nothing wrong with what’s happening to you?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Merlin’s hands start to shake.

Something in his throat wells up and pushes against his jaw. It hurts. The bruises on his back start to smart.

“Why do you care,” he says instead, “why now?”

“We didn’t know,” Leon whispers, sounding every bit the man confessing his worst sin, “and we are so, so sorry that we didn’t.”

“And if you’re asking why we care,” Lancelot says, equally heartfelt, “then we are more sorry than you could ever know.”

Merlin frowns. “But you lot do it too.”

The room freezes.

Arthur yanks his hands away from Merlin like he’s been burned. Leon stifles a noise of his own as Elyan’s mouth drops open.

“What,” Gwaine manages after a few moments, “the fuck does that mean?”

“You—you hit me, you order me around, you—“ Merlin swings his head back and forth, looking at their shell-shocked faces— “why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Because you’ve just told us we’ve been abusing you since the moment you set foot in Camelot, Merlin,” Arthur whispers, tears finally starting to roll down his cheeks.

“But you knew!” Merlin’s hands fly to his hair as he cries out. “You knew this was happening, you could see it happening and you didn’t care!”

“I’m sorry, Merlin—“

“If we knew it was like this—“

“If you think we’d ever hurt you like that—“

“No, gods no, Merlin—“

“Of course we care—“

“Merlin,” Arthur whispers, holding out a shaking hand, “Merlin, please, please believe us that we would never be okay with you being mistreated like that. Like this.”

And godsdamnit all, the amount of sheer heartbreak in the room is enough to coax a lump into Merlin’s throat and spring tears down his cheeks. Arthur lets out a wounded noise as he sees them, reaching forward to gently, still gently, wipe them away. The naked concern on not just his face, but the others’ faces as well, only encourages more.

“I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he keeps saying, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“Arthur, I—“ He’s cut off by a gasping sob— “Arthur—“

“Shh, shh, shh,” Arthur hushes frantically, cupping Merlin’s face in both hands, “shh, shh, Merlin, it’s alright, no one’s ever going to hurt you again, I swear it—“

“You’re damn right,” he hears Gwaine mutter as the other knights agree.

“—and I’m so sorry that you thought I’d be okay with it, that I was helping—“ Arthur’s voice cracks— “no, no, you’re—you’re my Merlin—I never want to see you hurt like that—I never mean to hurt you—“

“I know,” Merlin murmurs, “I—I know you don’t.”

Arthur, gentle Arthur, pulls him into the softest hug he’s ever had, cradling him like he’s something precious, something fragile, something to be savored and oh, oh, gods—

“Easy,” he hears Leon soothe, “easy does it now, come sit—come sit with us.”

He can’t quite manage to pry himself out of Arthur’s grip as he feels the knights come closer, huddling around the two of them in a protective circle. He even hears Percival’s heavy steps coming closer, a silent guardian, keeping watch.

“I don’t—“ he gasps— “I don’t understand.”

“We’ll help you,” Arthur promises in his ear, “we’ll help you figure it out.”

“But if anyone ever,” Gwaine growls, “and I mean ever does anything like that to you again, you tell us.”

Merlin nods frantically. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Leon murmurs, “may I…?”

Merlin nods and Leon’s hand cards tenderly through his hair.

“Oh, Merlin,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “you came into our lives blustering about how servants were people too…and we never noticed this?”

The knight shudders and steels himself.

“We will do better.” He gives Merlin’s head one last pat. “We all will.”

“I can—“ Merlin swallows— “I can…ask for help?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur promises instantly, “you can ask me for help, and if you think I’m letting another one of those knights near you ever again—“

Oh. Oh, wow.

The wave of protective fury that hits Merlin’s chest is—

Wow.

He’s still confused. Confused and more than a little scared.

But as he curls up in Arthur’s arms, held and kept with Camelot’s strongest knights curled around him too, protecting him, shielding him, he thinks he may finally start to feel safe.

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merthur #merthur fic #fic #dragonbabbles

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years

Text

Flawless (3)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 PLEASE SKIP THE SEX SCENE. It’s the last part of the chapter, and all you need to know is that is happens.

*****

There were never enough showers.

Never enough showers to wash off the grit and the smell and the fear. Not from the dumpster—that came off pretty easily—but from before.

Riley had initially turned the handle all the way hot, but she didn’t turn it down when she stepped into the shower. Water scalded her back, her chest, her thighs, but she didn’t care. She welcomed the pain with open arms. Anything to keep the numbness from returning.

She left the glass door partly open. During her first shower since coming home, Riley had closed it normally and immediately panicked. The once spacious shower was suddenly too tight, closing in on her with each breath, like if she didn’t open the door right then she would’ve been trapped in it forever. Now Riley left the door open. The shower felt less like a cage when she did that.

Riley went through the motions almost mechanically. Wash face. Shampoo hair. Wash body. Condition hair. Shave legs. In that order. Always in that order.

She turned the water to freezing cold for a minute before stepping out. The shock to her system hurt worse than the hot water did. It felt like force-rebooting her body the same way she would a malfunctioning computer.

She pictured the start-up graphics on a screen as her brain woke back up. Blackness. The mouse appeared, barely more than a white smudge against the dark. Then the loading screen.

She got dressed, and it felt like typing in her password. The first outfit felt wrong, like she’d typed in the password incorrectly. Riley tried again. She got it the second time, mental fingers landing on the right keys, in the right order—clothes that felt like her, embracing her body.

Skinny jeans.

Rolling Stones t-shirt.

Silver hoop earrings.

When the mirror unfogged, Riley re-did her makeup—smokey eyeshadow and eyeliner sharp enough to stab the demons colonizing her mind. All part of her armor against the world.

She’d need it with the whole team in her apartment tonight.

Unsurprisingly, Desi and Cage let themselves in without bothering to knock. Riley’s only warning was an unmistakable squeal that could’ve only come from Cage before someone pounced on her from behind, nearly sending them both tumbling to the ground. Pale arms wrapped around her, and Riley awkwardly reached back to hug her friend.

From somewhere behind them, Desi scoffed, “You could’ve at least waited for her to turn around, you know.”

Cage shot back, “Don’t be all macho. You already got to see her.” Riley didn’t think picking her, Nikki, and Jill up from their dumpster adventure counted, but she didn’t correct the blonde.

Cage let go only long enough for Desi to give Riley a real hug. Lowering her voice so Cage couldn’t hear, the more reserved woman whispered in Riley’s ear, “If you need anything, even just to talk, you come to me, okay?”

Riley whispered back, “Okay.” Desi gave her a long, knowing look before pulling away.

They brought Italian takeout from the fancy place downtown and an ungodly amount of wine. Riley eyed the expensive labels. She’d long been banned from alcohol duty; Nikki didn’t mind beer and tequila, but Cage and Desi just sneered and said she and Nikki drank like college students. Which, to be fair, they did.

Cage poured a glass for each of them, and the trio migrated to Riley’s black leather couch. “So,” Cage began, “how does it feel to be out?”

The interrogation was beginning early, it seemed. Carefully sipping her wine, Riley answered, “Good.” Cage narrowed her eyes at the one-word response, and Riley fought not to squirm under her all-knowing gaze. The former interrogator was literally a fucking mind reader.

Cage pressed on. “What was it like in there?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Desi quickly assured, shooting her girlfriend a warning glare. There was something in Cage’s returning look that made Riley think this wasn’t the first time they’ve talked about this.

Of course the team had talked about her while she was in prison. They had to process the events leading up to Riley’s arrest too. Riley didn’t blame them for that. But for some reason it still stung that they talked about her behind her back.

She was saved from answering Cage’s question by Nikki’s loud arrival. The blonde gasped audibly from the doorway, eyes locking on the wine glasses in their hands. “You started without me? Rude.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Speaking of rude, did you all forget what knocking is?”

“If you wanted us to knock then you shouldn’t have given each of us a key,” Desi sneered. Riley frowned but didn’t disagree.

Jill cautiously trailed Nikki into the apartment. Riley arched a brow in surprise; she hadn’t been sure the woman would actually show. She put up an icy exterior before speaking. “So,” Riley drawled. “You came.”

Jill smiled awkwardly. “Hi.”

“It’s Jill, right?” Cage got up to introduce herself. “I’m Samantha.” Riley watched the exchange carefully, studying Jill’s body language. She seemed to fold in on herself under Cage’s intense gaze, but Riley didn’t blame her. Even after six years of friendship, Cage was just as scary as the day Riley met her.

With food in front of them, the conversation flowed easier. Riley was content to let Cage and Desi pester Jill with endless questions while she ate her pasta in peace. Hopefully they’d forget all about interrogating her.

“So how did you all meet?” Jill asked after Cage finally ran out of questions.

Riley smirked, but it was Nikki who spoke first. “Well, I met Riley the day I was fired from my first job. We ran around with the lowlifes of LA for a while until we met Cage, who was a professional gold-digger at the time.” Nikki took a sip of her wine. “And it was all fun and games until one day I found myself making breakfast for this cranky ex-military chick Cage brought home—” a pointed look at Desi— “who did the walk of shame out of our apartment every day until she moved in.” Desi stuck her tongue out at Nikki, who returned the gesture with glee.

Meanwhile, Jill’s eyes widened with each new piece of information. “There is so much to unpack there.” She pushed her glasses up her nose, focusing on Cage. “You were a professional gold-digger?”

Cage smiled and poured herself another glass of wine before snuggling into Desi’s side. “I was.” Desi wrapped a protective arm around her girlfriend.

“She had a good thing going for a while,” Nikki explained. “Get with a hot millionaire, spend a year embezzling his money, fake her death. Repeat.” Cage wiggled her eyebrows, making everyone laugh. It was moments like this Riley missed most in prison—the gossip, the easy laughter.

“And what about the other girl?” Jill asked. The laughter died immediately. “The one I’m replacing.”

Riley’s grip tightened around her glass. “My best friend from high school.” There was just enough edge to her words to keep Jill from asking anything else about Leanna or the past. Riley knew what her next question would be: If she was your best friend, then why isn’t she here now?

She’d asked herself the same question every day Nikki visited her in prison, alone.

The rest of the night passed without incident. Carefully timed trips to the kitchen enabled Riley to get Cage and Desi’s opinions on Jill without arousing suspicion. The team was in agreement—recruiting Jill was a yes.

After the movie ended and the dishes were done, Riley gathered her team in the kitchen. There were times in prison she thought she’d never see this again—Nikki standing to her right, Desi sitting on a barstool with her boots on the counter, Cage just sitting on the counter, and now Jill, who miraculously knew how to both be polite and sit in a chair correctly. But here they were. Her team. In her kitchen. Waiting for Riley to pitch their next job.

“So,” she began. “I’ve got a job for us.”

Desi snorted. “I had no idea.” Rolling her eyes, Cage smacked her girlfriend’s calves in reprimand.

Riley ignored her. “Paris Fashion Week is next month, and it’s time we attend. While we’re there, we can do some sightseeing, eat at fancy restaurants, visit the Louvre.” Desi and Cage sat up straighter at the word “Louvre.” Nikki already knew part of the plan, but until now the others had no idea what Riley had been planning.

Nearly as perceptive as Cage, Jill asked, “What’s special about the Louvre? I mean, aside from the fact that it’s famous and holds lots of cool stuff.”

“The Louvre,” Riley began, fixing her intense gaze on Jill, “contains some of best-guarded treasures on the whole planet. Which will make them all the more lucrative when they hit the black market.”

Jill looked between the other women warily, as if she suddenly found herself surrounded by people who should be in a mental institution, and Riley had to fight the urge to laugh. “No offense, but you’re insane,” the recruit said. “Do you even realize how impossible this is?”

“Not impossible,” Riley corrected. “But the challenge is what makes it fun.”

Curiosity flooded Cage’s eyes. “I’ll bite. What’s the target?”

“The French Crown Jewels.” Riley was met with a series of gasps and raised eyebrows.

Even Nikki showed concern. “Riles,” she said softly. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much, even for you?” The others nodded in agreement.

Appalled, Riley demanded, “Are you doubting me now? I’m gone for two years and then...nothing? Where’s the trust?”

“Of course we trust you,” Nikki said, stepping closer. “But maybe we should try for something easier.” After what happened last time, her eyes finished.

Fire roiled in Riley’s gut. Who were these people? What happened to the women who jumped at every batshit plan thrown their way? Riley didn’t recognize the cautious people in front of her. Nikki, of all people, didn’t get to lecture her on easier.

“This is the plan,” Riley snapped. “Either you’re in, or I replace you too.” She held Nikki’s gaze in challenge, making it clear she wouldn’t back down.

It was Desi who finally dared to break the charged silence, standing up to pour herself another glass of wine. “Well, if you insist of doing something stupid, I’m not letting you do it by yourself.”

Riley barely hid her surprise. Desi rarely took her side in an argument, if ever.

Cage’s lips formed a grim line. “Guess I’m in too.” Even Jill reluctantly nodded.

That just left Nikki. She glowered, clearly unhappy with being outvoted. “Fine,” she grumbled. “But I’m just as much the leader of this team as you are, and I reserve the right to pull the plug at any time.” Riley figured that was as close to agreement as she was going to get for now.

She grinned wickedly. “Then it’s settled. We’re going to Paris.”

*****

The next night, Riley took Nikki and Jill to a headline-making new club that just opened in Hollywood, as both an apology girls night and an opportunity to instruct Jill in Con Artist 101. Even though it was a weekday, neither protested. No local goes out on a weekend. Not in this city.

The club featured the finest of LA’s nightlife—pulsing music, beautiful women, overpriced drinks, the occasional person who may or may not be a celebrity, and people doing lines of coke on the bathroom counter. Truly a sight to behold.

The women to men ratio was surprisingly close to equal for an LA hotspot, and Riley didn’t waste the opportunity to check out all the eye candy her city had to offer. At the same time, she watched the crowd for easy victims.

She found one easily. A young blonde woman barely contained in her tight, sequined dress stepped up to the bar, and Riley could just see the edge of her ID sticking out from the top of her dress. She’d be easy to pickpocket, especially once her large, bubblegum pink drink was in her system.

The three women ordered their own drinks, and while they waited, Riley pulled Jill aside, lowering her voice. “You see her?” She tilted her head in the direction of the target. “Drunk blonde in a sequin dress.”

“What about her?” Jill asked cautiously.

“You’re going to pickpocket her.”

“I’m what?”

On her other side, Nikki chuckled, resting a hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Con Artist 101, babe. You’ve got to start with the basics.”

“Okay.”

Riley continued, “You’re going to steal her ID. It’s stuffed down the front of her dress—easy, unsecure. First step, watch her to figure out exactly where it is.” This was the first test, seeing if Jill was perceptive enough to pick up the kind of small details most people ignore. It wasn’t enough to just be aware of her surroundings; she had to know exactly where everything was at all times. People in their line of work couldn’t afford surprises.

After a few minutes, Jill nodded with confidence. “Found it. Right side, in between her boob and her armpit.”

“Good,” Riley praised. “Now you have to go get it. Bump into her so she’s more focused on that than your hand in her dress. Maybe even spill your drink on her.”

Jill’s newfound surety was short lived. “Can you show me first?” Unease returned to her voice.

Riley smirked. “Gladly.” She found a new target for herself—a man, tipsy but not drunk, and not so big that he’d overpower her if he got a little handsy. She spied the outline of his wallet in the left leg of his jeans. “When you’re stealing heavier items, say a wallet,” Riley explained while her eyes searched the bar, “you need to put something in its place. Otherwise your mark will know pretty quickly that something is missing.” The club was swanky enough to use real coasters at the bar instead of napkins, and Riley leaned over the bar to grab one. It wasn’t quite heavy enough, but it would do. “Watch carefully,” she instructed.

She sauntered right up to the man, eyes focused on a random point in the distance, and collided with his left side. In the brief moment their bodies touched, Riley slipped her hand into his front pocket, snagging his wallet and leaving the coaster in its place. “Sorry,” she apologized with a demure bat of her eyelashes. Slipping the wallet into her purse, Riley kept walking before the man could do or say anything else.

The theft was as easy as breathing, the thrill short lived.

“Your turn,” Riley said, returning to Jill’s side. Jill shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “If you second-guess it, it won’t work. Have some faith in yourself.” Emphasizing her point, Riley shoved Jill forward.

Nikki slid into the newly open space beside Riley. “Are you sure we should just throw her in the deep end like this?”

Her eyes never leaving Jill, Riley replied, “The only way she’s going to learn is if she practices. You know that just as well as I do.”

“I guess.” Nikki sighed. “I just don’t want anything to happen to her.”

Maybe it was the lingering annoyance from yesterday’s fight that Riley had yet to let go of, but something about Nikki’s words rubbed her the wrong way. Riley snapped, “You mean unlike what happened to me?”

Bristling, Nikki didn’t rise to the bait.

On the dance floor, Jill bumped into the woman well enough, but she was a little slow on the grab. Thankfully the woman was too drunk to notice.

Subtly flashing the ID, Jill asked, “What do I do with it?”

“Keep it,” Nikki said. “She looks enough like you. Use it the next time you get carded.” Jill didn’t look too happy about that, but she slid the ID into her purse all the same.

Riley murmured just loud enough for Nikki to hear. “See? I told you she’d be fine.” Nikki gave her a look she wasn’t sure how to interpret.

The bartender dropped off their drinks, and Riley knocked back both her tequila shots, one right after the other. Nikki raised an eyebrow. “There something you need to tell me?”

The burn from the alcohol lingered in the back of Riley’s throat. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Riles—” Nikki protested, but Riley cut her off.

“You, however, look desperately in need of a good fuck.” She said it more to get Nikki off her back than anything else. Riley scanned the crowd, eyes settling on a tall, muscular man with dark skin and close-cropped hair. He stood right at the edge of the dancing, talking to a group of guys, providing Riley with an excellent side-view of his chiseled silhouette. “He’ll work.” She didn’t wait for a response before striding through the mass of writhing bodies.

Riley sidled up next to him, and the whole group of guys turned to her in unison. “Hi,” he said. Riley immediately liked the sound of his voice, deep and smooth and sensual.

She smiled. “I’m Riley, and if you’ll come with me, there’s someone I think you should meet.” The boldness came easily. The tequila added to her already high self-esteem was just a bonus.

The man turned to face her fully. “Riley,” he crooned. Her name rolled off his lips like melted chocolate. “And what if I’d rather just get to know you?” Riley smirked. That plan was fine by her. Nikki could find her own man. It had been a long time since Riley had a fuckable man’s hands on her body, and she wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. She lightly tugged on his shirt.

“Dance with me.”

They melted into the crowd, and his broad hands found Riley’s waist as she eye-fucked him, gently drawing her into his hard, warm body. He took his time, giving her the chance to change her mind if she wished. His courteousness made him even hotter. Riley pressed her body closer.

The rhythmic bass rattled her bones, but Riley welcomed the sensation. She let it carry her away, guiding the swinging of her arms and the rolling of her hips.

The man’s lips brushed her ear as he spoke. “I’m Kalei, by the way.”

Kalei. Riley repeated his name, committing it to memory. Kuh-lay. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue.

“Turn around,” Kalei commanded. Biting her lower lip, Riley obeyed, and Kalei tugged her hips firmly against his own.

Riley leaned back, resting her head on Kalei’s shoulder, running her hands up and down his thick, muscular arms. Kalei’s fingers curled into her hips, his breath was hot on Riley’s neck, and Riley already found herself wanting more. He moved perfectly with her, their bodies in sync.

Her arms rose up, fingers finding purchase on the nape of his neck. Kalei’s hands steadily grew braver—first skimming up her waist, then down over her thighs—leaving a delicious burning sensation in their wake. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, and his palms traveled higher, just brushing the undersides of her breasts. Riley gasped.

She growled over her shoulder, “Do that again.”

He did. Again and again and again.

When Riley finally turned around, the hungry glow simmering in his eyes matched her own. She wanted him. She wanted him now.

He smelled like cedar and something else she couldn’t quite place with the stench of sweat and alcohol accosting her nose. Riley pulled his mouth down to hers, but Kalei stopped just before their lips brushed. “Shouldn’t I at least buy you a drink first?”

She chuckled, deep and full of wicked promise. “I already cut myself off for the night. Besides, we both know you’d rather skip that step.” Riley pressed her hips against his for emphasis, feeling him hard against her.

Kalei tensed. “Are you sure?”

Riley knew she’d picked a good one. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Apparently that was all the reassurance he needed. Kalei grabbed a fistful of Riley’s hair and kissed her, hard and desperate. She moaned into his mouth, imagining all the depraved things his tongue could do. Riley planned on becoming intimately acquainted with every single one of those things by morning.

She started to drag him toward the bathroom, but Kalei stopped her. “I am not fucking you on a bathroom counter. Let’s get out of here.”

Fair enough. “Your place or mine?” she asked.

“Do you have a roommate?”

“Nope.”

His fingers trailed down Riley’s arm and linked through hers. “Then yours.”

The cab ride was short, but tense. The driver dutifully kept his eyes glued to the road as Kalei’s hand stroked the inside of her thigh. Riley shivered in her seat.

Kalei’s eyes bulged when the driver pulled up to Riley’s swanky apartment building. “Wait, are you in the industry? Should I know you?”

Riley laughed, picturing herself as some whiny, simpering actress. Pathetic. “No. I’m just a businesswoman.”

The easiest lies were mostly true, after all.

The lobby was empty, and the elevator doors slid open mercifully quickly. As soon as Riley pressed the button for the top floor and the doors slid shut, Kalei resumed kissing her, hands tangling in her curls as he pinned her against the wall.

The doors opened, and Riley didn’t waste any time leading Kalei down the hall to her apartment, unlocking the door, and shoving Kalei inside first.

Her apartment was mostly dark; the only light came from the city lights shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. Riley didn’t bother to turn on a light. Kalei backed her against the door, and Riley let out a gasp as her legs wrapped around him and his mouth lowered to her throat. Her dress bunched around her waist, becoming little more than a shirt.

“We can stop at any time,” he rasped. “Just say the word.” Kalei held out his little finger in a pinky promise, and the gesture had Riley already contemplating where she’d take him out to breakfast in the morning.

Riley had no intention of stopping. She told him so, and Kalei’s mouth slanted over hers, kissing her thoroughly. Her greedy fingers made quick work of his jacket, then his shirt, and Riley smiled into the kiss as she traced his chiseled abs and chest. Kalei was hot, polite, and ripped.

In short, he was perfect. Not that she’d ever inflate a man’s ego by telling him that.

She pulled away just far enough to ask, “Are we doing this against the door or on my bed?”

Kalei’s dark chuckle set every nerve in her body on fire. Riley wanted to carve the magnificent sound into her memory forever. “Bed,” he murmured. “I want to take my time unraveling you and learning exactly what it takes to make you scream my name.”

Fuck. Every coherent thought vanished from Riley’s mind. The best she could do was nod furiously as he set her down.

Riley yanked off her heels before dragging Kalei down the dark hallway to her spacious bedroom. Their clothes came off all at once, without ceremony, and then her back was against the mattress, and Kalei’s delicious weight hovered over her.

He kissed his way down her body, all the way to her knees before moving back up to where she really wanted him. She was right, earlier, about what his tongue could do. Broad licks, circles, delicate, methodical strokes—magical, toe-curling, spine-arching, embarrassing noise-inducing stuff.

Riley whimpered his name as a wave of pleasure crashed over her.

And then his hands were shackles around her wrists, pinning them above her head. Riley froze. The confinement made her want to crawl out of her own skin, and not in a good way.

Noticing Riley’s shift in body language, Kalei released her wrists and sat up, seeming to know she needed space. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

A deep breath. “Yeah,” Riley lied.

No I’m not okay.

I felt trapped.

That’s never happened before.

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready to keep going.”

“I’m ready now.” She didn’t hesitate, flipping them so she was on top.

Despite her reassurance, it was slower now, less desperate. Riley focused on the sounds escaping his lips, letting them wash away the shackled feeling. The more she touched him, the more she felt powerful, in control. Her smirk finally returned as Kalei sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes screwing shut and head tilting back, exposing the strong column of his throat.

It was control Riley really craved, after not having any for so long.

And Kalei seemed to be more than happy to surrender to her. Chuckling at her haste, Kalei stroked her calves as Riley ripped open the new box of condoms in her nightstand drawer. His broad hands on her hips guided her, meeting her halfway, but Riley dictated the rhythm and pace, giving her desperate, touch-starved body everything it desired.

She nearly got off on the high of watching this beautiful man come undone beneath her alone.

Riley was in awe of how quickly he had figured out her body—how to tease her, draw her pleasure out, send her over the edge. Kalei earned every utterance of his name on her lips.

And god were there a lot of them.

When Kalei woke her up in the middle of the night for round two, they tousled for dominance. Riley knew there’d be marks on her body in the morning, but she didn’t care. There would be just as many on him.

Kalei didn’t touch her wrists again. He only pinned her shoulders and hips, leaving her limbs free to do as she pleased. “Is this okay?” he’d asked the first time he held her down. She assured him it was.

If Riley had time for love, she thought she might be able to have it with him.

With her common sense still lost in the delicious, post-release haze, Riley said, “I never say this, but do you want to get breakfast in the morning?”

Kalei pulled her against him, her back to his front, his arm possessively circling her body. “I never say this either, but yes.”

Riley smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

#beth writes #flawless au #macgyver #riley davis #nikki carpenter #desiree nguyen #samantha cage #jill morgan #macgyver fanfiction

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cousinwingding97 · 4 years

Text

Silver Memories

Chapter Four: New Plan

Warning: Description of violence.

Realized this did not upload in the format I was hoping for at first. 😭 Sorry about that assault on your eyes. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Mando stayed with you throughout your entire episode, gently caressing your scars absentmindedly while whispering in another language to you. Your shaking body finally calmed enough for you to breathe normally. The tears dried and you had enough strength to pat Mando’s arm to get him to notice you were ready for him to leave while you freshened up.

He did so immediately, without making you feel like he was trying to peek at anything. Despite his actions and his words about the memory, you were shaken to the core. He still could’ve been lying, but your mind was at war. The feeling of security would not leave; yet, the violence in his voice in your memory sent chills down your spine. He may have done something and now you were temporary allies. Or maybe you were allies because of your lack of memories. You had no idea. Boba had said not to trust anyone without your memories and despite your dislike of the man, you were inclined to agree with him.

You stepped into the shower and let the scalding water burn your skin. The pain helped you focus on the now. I am in a shower and safe. The water feels good to my bones and I am safe. That’s all that matters in this moment.

The steam fogged the fresher, but your mind was clearer now. You would be flying by the seat of your pants from now on. That’s all you could do. One day at a time.

You found no clean clothes, so you grabbed the towel to dry off as best you could and threw on the white ones from Pollis Massa and the cloak. At least your body was a little warmer now.

———————————————————————

You stood in the hold of the ship, waiting for something to click in your mind to tell you what to do now that you were by yourself. You assumed Mando and Boba were up top in the cockpit flying you back to Pollis Massa; truthfully, you did not want to go up there and talk to either of them at the moment, but the thought of being alone with your thoughts was not an attractive option considering how your mind was finally feeling clearer to you. So, up the ladder you went to see if you could at least find some form of human interaction with them.

You should’ve known better. These men were deathly quiet. They didn’t even look at you as you entered the cockpit. You knew they heard you, yet they did not acknowledge your presence. You didn’t bother talking to them, not knowing how they would take it. You wanted to ask questions though. These men knew the past you. They knew and had deemed it necessary not to tell you anything. You fidgeted with nerves, the questions rolling through your mind one after the other. You opened your mouth multiple times to ask something, but promptly shut it not knowing how much information you would get.

“What is it you want to ask?” Mando inquired. He must have sensed the endless questions in your mind. Unknown to you, he had heard your start of questions multiple times with your mouth opening and promptly shutting with a clack of your teeth through the the enhanced hearing of his helmet.

You tried to think of the question you wanted answered the most. There were so many.

“Who am I?” You blurted out finally.

“You’re going to have to narrow that down, little one. He can’t answer your whole backstory without giving you another panic attack. Your head has to sort it out. Too much information and it won’t be able to handle it,” Boba interjected before Mando could say a word.

You stared daggers into the back of his head. Sure, he may have experience with memory loss according to Mando, but did he have any true idea? The humiliation of relying on others when you should be able to piece together everything yourself was beyond irritating.

As if sensing your anger, Boba turned his seat to face you, “You may not like my input, girl, but it is for your own benefit. You think your fit down there was bad? If Mando tells you the wrong thing or too much it could shut your brain down permanently from the trauma. Your brain is trying to heal on its own. Give it time and we’ll see if those at Pollis Massa can help. If not, then it’s up to you and your brain. So, be angry all you want. It won’t help you one way or another.”

“Easy for you to say when you have all your memories and a purpose,” you snarled back.

“You aren’t listening. Mando can’t give them to you. You’ve got to learn and heal. Until then, try to refrain from asking.”

Mando turned towards you now, “Runi, it’s for the best. Boba Fett’s right. I can’t answer everything. It truly is for the best. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You said you can’t answer everything, but can you answer some things?” You couldn’t help the spark of hope that lit your face and ran through your body with a warming glow.

Mando looked to Boba with the silent question and Boba just shrugged in response, “We’ll see. If you want to ask, go for it. I won’t answer you if it seems like a bad idea.”

You nodded your head excitedly since you would take anything at this point. Boba’s advice of not trusting anyone until you got your memories back still echoed in your mind, so you figured clarity would be best to discover if you could trust these two or not.

“Who are you?”

The Mandalorian froze with unnatural stillness. Boba snorted with amusement, but they were silent.

“Oh come on! You can at least start from the beginning. I don’t know you, so pretend it’s the first time meeting me.”

He thought it over and decided to play along, “I’m a Mandalorian.”

You groan in frustration and drop your hands onto your hips to further show you annoyance, “You do realize that means nothing to me and I don’t know what that is, right?”

Mando clears his throat in discomfort, “Sorry, usually people know us by reputation.” He shifts in his seat and fully faces you, “I live by a Creed. The Creed of Mandalorians is a serious one. We live in secret, train from a young age, and defend our people. We are a warrior clan. Our Creed never allows us to reveal our faces in order to maintain the secrecy of our identities to keep us safe. We used to live on Mandalore, a planet in the Outer Rim before it was destroyed by the Empire, so we have adapted. Learned to be bounty hunters, protectors, mercenaries. Whatever it took to survive.”

You have a lot of questions. So many more to add on to what you already have in your head. You blurt out the first one, “So you’ve never taken your helmet off? Is that why both of you keep wearing them all the time?”

“Easy there, princess. I’m not a Mandalorian like him,” Boba interjects, “I’m just a simple man making his way through the universe. Following my father’s footsteps and his ways. He was a Mandalorian and I wear this to honor him.”

“So, why don’t you take your helmet off? Is it against your rules?”

Boba doesn’t hesitate and reaches his fingers under the helmet. It comes off with a hiss and he turns to face you. His face is scarred. He has no hair, he is more tan than you would’ve expected for someone wearing armor all the time, but his face seems set to a permanent scowl. He looks scarier without the helmet. Not because of the scars but because of the eyes. His eyes look dead, emotionless. You can’t stare at them for long. You choose to look anywhere on his face, but his eyes.

“I wear it because people are intimidated by what they can’t read. What they don’t know, they fear. It has nothing to do with a creed. Just plain business tactics.”

These men were truly strange. You had no idea why they needed to be anymore intimidating than they already were. They look like they could break your bones with fairly little effort. They also sounded like they were in a cult, which was definitely disturbing to you.

“Then why can’t you take your helmet off, Mando? Besides secrecy. If you never take it off then don’t you just become just a Mandalorian and never the man underneath? Like how is it a secret if you just become it?”

He cocks his head to the side in thought. He’s silent for awhile trying to come up with an answer when he finally comes up with a simple answer, “This is the way. Spouses of Mandalorians can reveal their faces, but no one else needs to see it.”

You aren’t convinced. This just sounds like an excuse, “So your spouse has seen your face?”

He coughs and sputters out, “Uh no, I’m not... I’m not married.”

“So what if you die without anyone seeing your face? You’ll be unknown? What if someone takes it off forcibly? Are you still a Mandalorian?”

Boba Fett just sighs, “Look, you asking more questions about the Mandalorian isn’t going to help you. I’m tired of hearing your questions. You aren’t getting anything but more questions. I don’t see this getting anywhere except on my nerves. You should just rest.” With that he puts his helmet on and turns away from you.

You want to be angry, but you can’t help but feel like he’s right. The introduction left you more puzzled than you already were about these men. Now there was a whole culture involved on top of the backstories for both them and you. It was a lot to process and your body was weak from your earlier episode. You were cold too still in the wraparound cloak and thin clothes. The thought of relaxing under warm blankets on a soft bed was tantalizingly tempting to your weary body. You left the cockpit without argument in search of comfort in warmth. It did sound like Mando and Boba started speaking to each other quietly behind you as you left, but you didn’t bother trying to pick out any words.

Before you could even explore, there were footsteps behind you. Mando followed you from the cockpit. His cape was in his hands instead of on his back, you noticed. He was wringing it in his hands nervously. He reached you and held it out, offering it to you, “You’re probably freezing.”

As if in response, your body shivered as you brushed his gloved hands to take it. “I am actually. I was thinking of trying to find somewhere to sleep actually. I haven’t properly rested on a real bed for awhile. Well, besides the hospital.” You take his cloak and wrap it around you, easing the chill that you hadn’t realized has set in your bones. Thankfully, the cloak was soft and smelled good. Pine, maybe? It smelled like the silver armor of Mando’s and woods. It was relaxing to your mind. Faintly familiar.

“I’m afraid Boba Fett doesn’t believe in comfort. Even if it is for himself.” He vaguely gestures to the ship and you look around seeing just how sterile everything is. Not a single thing that would reveal anything about the person that owned it. Just metal and cold. Much like the man flying it. “He has a very uncomfortable cot he hardly uses and only lets guests use it if they aren’t bounties. I figured the cloak might help a little too besides...” he waves his hand over your figure, “your thin hospital clothes.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find anything else besides this cloak on Utapau. I appreciate the extra warmth, thank you, Mando.” He nods once in acknowledgement and silence falls on you two. It’s uncomfortable. This man, who is supposed to be a fearsome warrior, bounty hunter is nervous and fidgety around you and it makes you nervous. You try to break the silence with literally anything.

“What’s your full name? Not just the Mando part.”

“Huh?” His attention is now laser focused on you in disbelief, “My name? People call me Mando, but it’s not my name.”

“Oh. I thought since you were Mandalorian, you had a last name to differentiate between all of you. Sorry.”

“No, no you’re fine. I mean, you’re re-learning practically everything. Unfortunately, my name is a secret as well as my face.”

“So, what did I know about you? Anything? You said we were allies, maybe even friends, but it sounds like I know about the same information now as I did then.” The continuous lack of answers is infuriating. Why even bother talking to them if they aren’t going to tell me anything?

Mando matches your frustration with his own, “Why did you leave Pollis Massa if you’re so desperate for information? You were safe there!”

“I thought you guys were the bad guys! All I saw was everyone shooting other people, hanging out with bounty hunters and apparently upsetting the new form of government! I thought about staying, but all I saw was all of you at each other’s throats! What was I supposed to think? All everyone had told me made it sound like Mandalorians are the scariest bunch you don’t want to mess with, so excuse me for being wary!”

“We helped you escape from your cell! You were literally locked up when we found you! And hurt! Does that sound like the hands you want to be in?”

“For all I know, they were trying to help me! You guys didn’t exactly look like the nice rescuing type! All of you looked like emotionless droids armed to the teeth just waiting to kill everything in your path! That doesn’t inspire confidence and from what I saw, you all desperately want to fight all the time!”

Mando doesn’t respond. Without him even saying anything, you know that you messed up somewhere. Just not really sure where or how, but you could swear you feel his anger in your own soul. It overpowers your anger and makes you feel worse for pushing him to this.

He steps closer to you, crowding your space. The armor may be cold, but the heat radiating off of him is scorching you. You take steps back, but there’s only the hull of the ship behind you with its cold biting into your back and now cold armor biting into your front. You can’t look at the black visor staring into the depths of your soul. You don’t know why, your only guess is his reaction, but you feel guilt about something you said. This whole argument feels pointless now.

“Is that all we are? Emotionless because of our helmets? You think we are just murder bots coming to kill and destroy whatever we find? You acted like you knew better when I asked if you remembered me, but if that’s what you truly think, then I won’t hurt your head trying to get you to remember otherwise.” His voice is level the entire time, never shouting, but so cold. When he walks away, you catch your breath you had been holding and somehow, his lack of presence makes his icy words that much worse. You don’t have memories to go to in order to block out the noise of what just happened, so his words are so loud in your head. Berating, cutting, throbbing in your mind.

With tear filled eyes, you eventually find the sleeping quarters and shut the door behind you. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said Boba had lack of comforts. The cot was thin and firm. Like sleeping on a wooden plank. Not that you felt like sleeping.

The argument keeps playing through your head. It’s extremely unfair of him to be mad at me when I don’t even know if I’m insulting someone. I shouldn’t have been so angry, but he could cut me some slack.

You quietly cry in the confines of Boba’s room with Mando’s cloak wrapped tightly around you.

———————————————————————

Sleep was elusive. The anger, pain and sorrow still battered your soul. The ceiling became the most interesting thing to your eyes. You had counted every bolt, seen every shadow and the shapes they made. The grey tones of the ship started blending together with the tears in your eyes to make a stormy scene above you. A part of you could still feel the residual anger from Mando deep in your heart and focusing on that emotion kept you from falling too deep into a depressive state, and the sleep that your body desired.

You couldn’t understand how you could literally feel what he had felt in that moment. Nor the way you could feel the sense of safety that had drudged up from locked memories. It crowded out your own emotions. Your anger had been small compared to the insult he had felt. You were just mad at the lack of answers that they were giving you without even seeming to care that you were drowning in a body that didn’t feel like your own.

The ship lurched slightly with the suddenness of exiting hyperspace. You could feel the thrumming of the engines whine down. Since you had nothing better to do, you sat up and exited the room. Perhaps Pollis Massa will unlock my memories and I can move on with my life.

Slave I landed with a thud and the hatch opened leading to one of the landing platforms you had seen last time you were here. Boba and Mando descended from the ladder and you waited for them to lead the way. Mando took the lead, but Boba stayed on by the exit. You stopped and looked at him wondering why he wasn’t following.

Mando turned when he didn’t hear your footsteps following. When he saw you staring at Boba, he walked back up, “Boba isn’t coming with us. Let’s go,” he reached to grab your hand, but you turned back to Boba Fett, effectively keeping your hand out of his reach.

“Why aren’t you coming with us?”

He leveled his gaze at you, “I have business on Tatooine. A new business deal. I’ve already lost more time than I would like on this adventure. Now go on, you need to get going. You’ll be in my way otherwise.”

This time you felt a hand grab your arm leading you off the ship, a filtered voice sounded right by your ear, “I appreciate the help. Good luck with your venture.” The Mandalorian helmets nodded to each other and both turned away without another word.

You finally wrestled free from Mando’s grip and turned to follow him, “I thought you guys were friends. How are you going to get anywhere without a ship?”

“That’s a thought for a different time,” he answered bluntly. You got the feeling he was still pissed from earlier, so you let the questions die.

———————————————————————

Mando led you to the med bay in silence. The floating droids had led you to the same room you had been in when you woke up. Mando stood to the side of the room, facing towards the entrance as if guarding you. You vaguely remember him saying that he would guard you to that girl Cara. You didn’t know why you would need guarding if this was a safe place, but you figured he wouldn’t answer any questions you had right now even if the silence was heavy as if both of you had storms brewing in your heads, waiting for the other person to speak before lashing out.

You fiddle with the sheets on the bed you had been instructed to sit on while they prepared for all the tests they were going to run. They hadn’t said what that would involve, nor if it would be painless or just scans. Nervousness kept you jumping at any sound you heard from outside the room.

You broke the silence between you and Mando just to hear something besides your racing heart, “Do you think it will hurt?”

He turned his head to you, but not his whole body, “I don’t know,” he turned back to looking out to the hallway.

This is a man sized child. “Not like you would care anyway, I guess,” you whispered to yourself.

Against all odds, he turned to face you fully with a quickness that made your heart sink to your stomach as if he had actually heard your words.

“What?”

Before another argument could break out, the hallway door slid open and one of the floating droids came inside. Mando clenched his fists, but relaxed a little as the droid came over to your side of the bed.

“Hello, Miss. I’ve been assigned to examine your head. You’ve been dealing with memory loss, correct?”

The droid had a tiny mouth that moved with each word. It was smaller. About half your size. The voice was soft, soothing. It calmed your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. I can’t remember anything about my past. My name, family, friends, anything. I heard my mind may have been wiped.”

The droid hummed in response, “Typically, that practice is reserved for droids receiving new owners or prisoners during war. The practice has been outlawed by the New Republic. It could be that, but let’s check your head. It could be injured and a simple injection of bacta directly to your brain may fix the problem.”

“Will any of it hurt?”

“Oh no, Miss. All tests and procedures are painless. Just relax while I do a preliminary scan and we will go from there, alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. A hatch by the chest of the droid opened revealing a blue light that started at your face, momentarily blinding you, slowing scanning down to the bottom of your neck all the way back up your head.

“I have my initial scans. I will be back shortly while my colleagues and I gather more information and read over the data. Please, try to relax.” With that, the droid floated away and left you alone again with Mando who was now staring at you.

You wanted to ignore him since his earlier reaction to the argument, which hadn’t eased up the tension from earlier nor his shortness with you.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” You still didn’t look at him as you said it afraid he would see you as weak or just be too angry.

“I was just upset that you guys won’t tell me anything. I get it’s for my own good, but you just keep telling me to trust you; yet so far I’ve been locked up, hurt, shot at, flown to unknown places, hunted, shot into the air, and apparently whipped. You keep telling me that I know you and trusted you at one point. I want to believe you. It’s just feels like you keep hiding the most important things from me. You also got mad at me for something I didn’t even realize was super insulting to you because I don’t know why it would be. I’m sorry for the emotionless comment. I know you feel emotions, obviously. Please, just try to be patient with me. We are starting from scratch, ya know?”

He doesn’t respond and you finally turn your head to try to get a read on him. He’s now right in front of you, which should be impossible since you didn’t hear him with all that armor on. His hands are on the rails of the bed and he’s leaning over you. It should make your heart stop right there staring up at a silver and black helmet that could kill you with a headbutt. Or die by heart palpitations since it’s starting to pound.

He leans further down and gently places his helmet against your forehead. Instinctively, you close your eyes against it. The metal is cool and refreshing.

The absence of sight makes his voice sound less robotic. You can hear the gruff voice underneath the coder.

“I apologize too. You didn’t deserve it, Runi. I’ll try to be more patient. You must understand though, I am used to a different you. Seeing your face, but not the same mind is a new adjustment. I’ll be more patient too, but please extend that same patience with me.”

“I forgive you. You’re right. I didn’t think about how it is for you, but I’m at a disadvantage. You know way more than I do at the moment. Like what does that word mean? The runi?”

His head snaps up from yours in surprise. He fumbles for something to say and acts embarrassed, “It means...”

The hallway door slides open again and the droid floats back into the room. Mando jumps backs away from you before the droid even fully enters the room.

The droid comes to your side again and starts poking you with a needle, drawing blood and more scans. More droids pop into the room with a monitor.

The first one speaks quietly to the others in another language for a bit before finally turning back to you.

“There is good news. Your brain is fully healed. You have no existing physical problems; however, the memory loss is not something we can heal. It is not something physical that can be solved with any of our equipment or techniques.”

“What? You can’t do anything to help?” Mando sounds more upset than you feel at the moment. You hadn’t expected much. You hadn’t had a chance to really think about what would happen if you gained your memories back. Now that you wouldn’t, the sense of hope that had been in your heart, shattered completely. You just assumed you would be yourself again and the old you would be back. There wouldn’t be any reason to be upset or confused anymore. Was there nothing to do now? Were you stuck like this forever now? Learning through painful memories?

You covered your mouth with your hand to hold in the tears as best you could. You felt wet warmth slide down your face regardless. You couldn’t see properly.

“Unfortunately, no. There’s nothing we can do. It does not mean it’s a hopeless cause, however. I am only saying that there’s nothing we can offer you.”

“So, what can you offer us?” Mando grounded out.

“The best we can give you is advice. You need to heal her mind. Taking her to places that mean the most to her might trigger her memories.”

“I was told that would hurt her mind.”

“As long as you don’t push her, it should be fine. Start with important places and take it slow. If that doesn’t work, or if it’s too much of a risk, there are those that claim strong connection to the minds of others. You may try them.”

Mando sighed in frustration, “That’s the best you’ve got? I don’t even have a ship.”

It’s hopeless.

“You can try on of the captains on the landing platforms. They may be willing to give you passage or even sell. This planet is a refugee center now as well. Someone may sell you a ship.”

Mando nodded and the droids left the room. He looked back to you. He crossed the room back to you; once in front of you, he gently grabs your chin to tilt it up to face him.

“I swear, I will fix this. Just stay here and I’ll head down to see what I can find.”

Mando turns to leave, but you shoot out your hand to grab his arm, “Please let me go too. I don’t want to stay here alone with my thoughts.”

He looks back at you and you can tell he’s considering. You’re almost afraid he’ll say no before he finally answers, “Alright. Let’s go.” He reaches for your hand that’s on his arm and puts it in his gloved one, gently pulling you from the bed.

———————————————————————

After hours of talking to pilots, crew, literally anyone Mando and you could find to speak to about passage or buying a ship, both of you found one lonely older, green Twi’lek male unloading everything from an equally older looking ship. The ship had rust along both of its wings that came together in a “V” shape with the cockpit in the middle. It did have weapons and hyperdrive capabilities, much to Mando’s approval. The inside had plenty of room for you and Mando plus any cargo space for supplies. There was a larger refresher than Boba Fett’s. The sleeping nook was larger and more comfortable than Boba’s as well. Overall, the inside was clean and to your liking. Mando just seemed happy about the weapons and hyperdrive with little regard to the rest.

The Twi’lek negotiated with Mando about the price. Mando talked him down for repairs and tuneups that were needed and the Twi’lek accepted. He was anxious to be rid of it in order to retire on Pollis Massa. So, Mando handed over the credits and you both boarded the new ship, The Vanguard.

Neither of you had much in the way of supplies. You literally had the clothes on your back and Mando somehow had more weapons than you could’ve guessed he could hide on his body. The sinking realization that you would have to stop for supplies before you could focus on your memories took hold in your mind. You were tired of stops and delays.

“So, what’s the next step?” You asked Mando from inside the cockpit. He was fiddling with the controls and starting to warm up the engines.

Without turning from what he was doing to respond, “My best idea is to see someone about possible repairs and supplies first. After that, I’m not really sure.”

“But what about-“

“Look, I know you’re anxious for your memories to be returned, but without actual healing, I’m at a loss, okay? If I take you to places that are important to your past, I could ruin your chances and I’m not putting you in that position!”

“Mando, I need my memories. Maybe if we start with my home planet that would be a decent spot to slowly start the process.”

“You never told me where you were from.” He admits quietly.

Again the frustration with your past self rises up, “Why didn’t you ask??”

“I didn’t need to know.”

You groaned out a muffled scream. If you could punch your past self and Mando, you absolutely would.

“So, what do you want to do?”

He’s quiet and turns fully to you. “I do have a friend. She can connect with others on a mental level. Weird magical power stuff. She might be able to help you. We may even find supplies there.”

A friend? He has friends, that are girls? I didn’t think him capable.

You weren’t sure why, but your heart felt like it was corroding with an acidic build up. The thought of the girl made you feel uneasy. You hadn’t even met her, so why did you care? She was a friend and she could help you. You should be grateful.

“Have I met her?”

“Yes.” Of course that would be the only response from him. You rolled your eyes at his lack of explanation.

He caught that look and elaborated, “You liked her. She’s nice.”

It wasn’t much more, but at least you knew she wasn’t mean. It still didn’t shake the feeling that you were anxious about meeting her.

“Where is she?”

“Last I saw, Corvus. Hopefully, she’s still there.” He turns back to the controls and the ship roars to life, “Now sit down. We’re taking off.” You do as your told and watch as the ship leaves the slow, peacefulness of Pollis Massa and fires off into hyperspace.

———————————————————————

Everything within the oxygen filled environment is on fire. Bodies and parts are strewn across the floor. The air smells like blood and burning flesh. Anyone that is still alive, crawling on the floor are wishing they were dead compared to their pain.

There’s one such being in front. A black boot lands on his head, effectively halting his crawl. Leaning down, a man’s voice echoes loudly in the now silent rest area.

“Have you seen a girl around here lately?” A gloved hand fills the vision showing a picture that looks like you to the dying man.

“No, n-no.”

“Pity.” Fear, bone-chilling, unadulterated fear fills your whole body. The voice sounds like Death itself. A red flash and a simple swipe from the gloved hands, decapitates the head from the body and boots move on.

“Lord Laz!” A humanoid black droid comes into focus. “I was able to recover some footage from one of the med bay droids. It shows her with a Mandalorian.”

“Really?” The voice purrs. “Did you find out where she went?”

“Partially. Sounds like they bought a ship and left here not too many cycles ago.”

The asteroid shakes as something explodes nearby. The gloved hands reach up and fire emits from them, burning the surrounding area.

The voice fills the emptiness again, this time with fury, “Find what you can about what ship and then we are destroying this place.” The view changes to show the once beautiful Pollis Massa now turned to ruins.

“Yes, milord.”

The sudden wailing and screams of terror fills the vision. The dreaded voice is gone, but fear and pain are left behind.

——

“Hey, wake up!” You spring out of your seat. A cold sweat chills you further along with the cold of space. Your breaths are labored. You can’t remember where you are until a silver helmet fills your view.

“Relax. It was a just nightmare.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No, I think it was worse than that.”

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fluffykitty1999-blog · 3 years

Text

Dog of the Military- Chapter 28

Chapter 28- Bits and Pieces

"Home sweet couch." Ed strode into the living room, looking relieved to see Roy's tan sofa looking as inviting as it always had after his stint in the hospital. He was planning on sinking into the cushions and reading the latest alchemy books he'd sent Al to the library to get, but he was stopped when Roy placed a hand on his automail shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs.

"You said I could sleep on the couch once we got home." Ed was close to whining. Still, he followed Roy upstairs without too much complaint.

"What- you got a secret couch in your study that's more comfortable or something?"

"No. I just figured after all that time in a hospital and sleeping on couches you might like to have an actual bed." Roy led him down the hall past the open door of his study, with all it's alluring books. He pushed open the heavy oak door to reveal a small, rather sparse room. Flowered wall paper with dark gray spripes behind it, a small twin bed with blue sheets, a bookcase beside it, and a small desk tucked in the corner greeted them.

"Here we are. Your room." Roy said.

Ed was silent, and Roy frowned.

"I know it's a little plain- it was just my guest room for awhile, the only one who really stayed here was Hughes. We can spruce it up if you want, get pictures on the wall or whatever..."

Ed paused, taking a small step into the room.

"It's perfect like it is." he turned, looking behind him at Roy with uncertainty. "It's really mine?"

Roy nodded. "Might as well be. Whenever you're in Central and not out traveling, you're welcome to crash here. There's a spare house key somewhere, I'll have to see if I can find it for you."

Ed nodded, striding across the room to sit on the bed. Roy had already settled the lone suitcase- the only thing Ed really had besides the clothes on his back- containing all the research he'd saved from the dorm fires- beside the desk, and Ed let out a relaxed sigh, flopping on the bed.

He sat up on his automail elbow. "Do you want rent or anything? Room and board? I got money, research allowance and all..."

"I don't want anything from you, Ed. It's easier this way- we don't have to keep playing phone tag with reports, I get to know you're alive when you come home once every few weeks. Besides- you two are hardly in one place long enough to bother with something like that."

"Yeah. Okay, make sense." Ed flopped back on the bed, letting out a contented sigh.

Roy wondered for the first time- how long had it been since Ed had had something he could really call his won? Something besides a standard military issue dormitory or a generic hotel room. He was uncomfortable with the fact it'd probably been years.

"I'll have dinner ready in about an hour if you feel like eating." Roy figured it'd be best to just let the kid relax.

"Yeah, sounds good. Roy?"

Roy paused and turned back towards the room, not sure what the boy was going to say. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything." Ed's golden eyes were soft and unguarded for once, the normal edge and distrust not present.

"No problem, kid."

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

"So we need to go to Fisk and check out the stone mentioned in this passage here." Ed finished brightly, looking up from the book he'd been reading and smiling at Alphonse.

"But brother- we need to stay in Central for awhile. The Colonel said so. Something about Colonel Banks still being on the loose. You know he's out to get you."

"Don't worry about me, Al. I'll be fine- the Colonel worries too much."

"I'm not going with you then." Al said, turning up his armored face in distaste.

"What!? But Alphonse..."

"The Colonel says we need to stay put until Banks is caught, so I'm not going anywhere but Central until he is. It's for your own good, Ed."

"But the military is taking forever to catch him! He could be in Drachma by now for all we know! He can;t keep us here forever!" Ed exploded.

Al gave a clunking shrug.

"Fine." Ed seethed, standing up. "If you won't help me look for the stone until Banks is caught, then we'll just have to catch him ourselves."

Behind a rather upscale restaurant, an old man with wiry gray hair and a bottle of liquor sat against the brick wall, gaze empty as he waited beside the dumpster for scraps.

The man merely paused and looked over apathetically when a blonde boy in a red cloak strode over to him.

"Hey hobo Joe, hows it going?"

"I'm still alive, I guess." the man said hoarsely.

"I brought you something." Ed smiled, pulling a brown bag from his coat. Inside were warm cinnamon buns- still sticky. The man took them and started to eat, the warm frosting getting caught in his unkempt beard.

"What are you looking for this time?" the man asked between bites of pastry.

"Colonel Robert Banks."

"Ah, yes. I saw a newspaper about him. Then I used it to line my boots." the old man said with a smile. His gaze searched Ed, who still had his arm in a sling. "Is he the one that busted your other arm?"

"Yeah. The whole military's looking for him. But the military is full of a bunch of jack wads, some know-nothings. You really have time to watch things out here, hobo Joe. So I figured if anybody knew something, it'd be you."

Hobo Joe shrugged. "Heard news of a new rat in the sewers. And there's been some strange foreign people around lately. You know, when most people don't want to be found down here, they go underground."

"Right. Thanks for the tip, old man. Do me a favor- drink some water." Ed frowned, looking at teh liqour bottle the man was holding. "You know that crap dehydrates you."

"Let me prune up and die in peace, shrimp."

Ed scoffed. He would've exploded, but he was running on a tight schedule. He was on his lunch break, and he'd told Roy he was going to visit Hughes afterwards, so he had about three hours, tops, before Roy was going to wonder where he was.

"You can't go after him alone, brother!" Al sounded upset at the notion as Ed found an unused manhole in a dark alley.

"Al- you can't fit. I'm sorry."

"But what if something happens to you down there? You only have one good arm!" Al protested.

"I can still clap even with the sling. And my arm doesn't hurt that bad, anyways." Ed said simply.

"I'll tell the Colonel." Al threatened.

"The whole reason I'm looking for this crazy jerk is so that the Colonel will let us look for the stone, Al! I'm doing this for you!"

"Well I don't like it!"

"Give me an hour, alright!? If I don't check back in, you can go and get Mustang."

"One hour. Not a minute more." Al said flatly.

"Alright then. See you in an hour." And Ed descended the ladder at half his usual speed, due to his flesh arm being stuck in a sling. Still, he didn't fret about it too much.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The only sound was running water, running down the main channel, and a few rats scuttling about. Ed was tempted to call out for Banks- he knew the man was looking to settle the score with him- but he paused when the corpse of a drowned rat floated by him on the water.

He might not be alone down here. He was reminded of the man with silver eyes who'd tried to take him at the hospital. Drachmans were probably looking for Banks as well. It was best to just keep his mouth shut and observe.

He walked several blocks underground, watching the dingy brown sewer water float by. He turned down another tunnel- this one was larger, there was more wter flowing. He noticed there was a small empty space, about two feet tall and three feet deep, at the base of the wall. Just big enough for a mini-fridge lying on its side to fit in. though why anyone would have a mini fridge down here, Ed couldn't fathom. It was just the only unit of measure that came to mind.

There was a circular grate at the edge of the tunnel, about fifty feet away. Water flowed between the bars like a waterfall, and the tunnel continued to both the right and left in either direction. Ed was planning on going left. when he reached the T-shaped junction, but he paused when he noticed a figure a mere twenty feet from him.

Whoever it was was dressed in black completely, and there was someone sitting at their feet.

Ed watched the odd, shambling walk as the figure took a few steps towards his tunnel before eh felt the icy fingers of dread gripping his heart. Whoever this was, it wasn't banks, and his palms itched and heart pounded with the need to get far, far away from him.

He turned and ran back down the tunnel towards where he came. He had about thirty seconds before the man turned into the tunnel and saw him. He was grateful for the noise of flowing water covering him as he turned and sprinted back the way he'd came, stumbling and nearly falling, only to notice the small empty compartment right beside him...

He rolled into the small crevice, letting out his breath in slow pants as he tried to calm his hammering heart.

Had he been quick enough? Or had the man already turned into the tunnel and seen him?

He couldn't tell if he was being pursued or not, and he didn't dare peek out and check and risk revealing himself if he hadn't already.

At first, the only thing he could hear was the sound of water pouring down through the grate and into the small channel flowing down the tunnel, and his heartbeat in his own ears. But gradually, as whoever it was approached him, he heard the footsteps increasing in volume. He squeezed his eys shut. He was at a disadvantage- the man could've already seen him, could've been hunting him right now, and he wouldn't have known it. All he could do was wait and pray he hadn't been seen.

He was hunched over on all fours- it was a painfully cramped position, and he scooted himself farther back into the recesses of the small crevice he was in, pressing his automail palm to his flesh hand in the sling. Even if he was caught, he could still manage one good transmutation to defend himself if he needed to.

In the rear corner in front of him, a rat sat, chewing on something it held between its fore paws as it sat on its hind legs. It didn't give him a second glance.

Ed could spend no more time looking at the creature, because the footsteps were right outside, now- he could see the pair of black boots and pants just outside his crevice. The man stopped walking.

Ed's heartbeat was so loud he couldn't hear what the man mumbled to himself, though he heard the familiar flick of a lighter and smelled cigarette smoke, before the man continued on walking. His heart was still racing, even as he listened to the footsteps fading into the distance. He was left alone with the sound of running water from the grate behind him.

Still- he had to wait. He wanted to make sure the man- whoever he was- was long gone before he dared come out.

He counted to 300, willing his purse to stop pounding and his hands to stop shaking.

He tried to focus on whatever was in front of him. The rat in the corner had grown tired of sharing its space with him- it cast whatever it was chewing on at its feet in front of him and scurried out of the small alcove, chattering its teeth as it went.

Ed frowned, something about the object the creature had dropped drawing his attention. It looked like a small stick of some kind, but there was something brightly colored on the end...

He reached forward, picking it up and looking at it.

It was a finger nail. He looked down at the base of what he was holding- a shimmer of ivory bone leered out beneath severed muscle and sinew...

He dropped the finger on instinct, turning his head to the side and vomiting whatever little lunch he'd eaten onto the concrete beside him. He was shaking, choking and retching- he clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the noise- his heart had begun to pound in his chest again, and he shook both in fear of what he'd found and that he'd be heard, the man would come back.

It was painful to try and hold it back, though- vomit scorched his nostrils and seeped between his fingers, and He stopped trying to muffle it, letting his stomach rebel one last time until he was quietly dry heaving.

When it was over he just laid on the ground, catching his breath and trying to stop his trembling. He needed to move. He needed to get up and get out of here. He was in over his head.

He looked dully forward at the detached human finger, reaching over with his automail hand. He was grateful he couldn't feel the texture of the dead skin on his metal hand, and he picked up the limb and slid it into his pocket. It was evidence, after all.

He took a deep breath, steeling his frayed nerves, and ducked his head out from beneath the alcove, peering around. The man in black was nowhere in sight- he was in the clear. He crawled out like a snake on his belly, hurriedly getting to his feet. He couldn't head back the way he came- that was where the man had been headed. He'd just have to hope that the man didn't go back where he'd already been.

He kept running down the passageway, turning to the left towards where the man had come from. He paused at the mouth of the new tunnel- the person who'd been sitting at the man's feet, back against the wall of the sewer, was still there.

He wasn't sure if they'd seen him, but something about it all seemed off. He approached cautiously- it was a woman, and she was slumped over like she was hurt...

There was blood around her. He'd thought it was water at first, but when he stepped in it and the scent of copper hit him, he knew.

If he hadn't already thrown up, he probably would've by now.

He chin rested on her chest, and he fumbled to pull his flesh arm from the sling, not noticing the pain as he moved his injured arm to place his fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none.

She only had nine fingers. And they all sported the same bright purple acrylic nails as the finger in his pocket.

Somehow, he'd sunk to his knees and he was trembling again. He couldn't take her with him- she was dead weight, just a body, logically, he knew that, but her family deserved to see her again, to have a proper burial...

A rat shrieked behind him, and he whirled, startled, scrabbling through the grime on his backside.

What had he come here for again? He didn't know, but his heart thrummed in his throat, and he tried to push himself up with his flesh arm only for a spike of pain to send him crashing back down onto the grimy concrete. He managed to push himself up with his automail arm, though, regained his footing, and he was sprinting, running, running through the tunnels blindly.

He had to get out of here. He had to get out before that man came back or he found another body or something horrible happened.

He nearly ran past the ladder. He came skidding to a stop before the rusted metal loops, frantically climbing them, his boots slipping in the grime he'd acquired while in the sewer.

He wrestled with the manhole cover above, feeling blessed sunlight on his skin. his head and chest free from the underground prison, he breathed the fresh air, trying to calm his dizzying thoughts. He didn't look below him- but a hand grabbed on his flesh leg on the ladder, and he yelped.

He kicked out frantically with his automail leg- there was a crunch, and he scrambled the rest of the way out of the manhole and ran, blindly into the streets. He didn't stop running until he was almost to headquarters.

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

"Hey Roy- how's it going?"

Roy looked over, baffled, as Hughes plopped his tray down across from his friend in the military mess hall.

"What's with that look? Aren't you glad to see me?" Hughes asked, frowning at Roy's expression.

"You're not in your office."

"No, I'm not. I figured I'd have lunch over here today. IS something wrong?"

"No. But Ed said he was going to visit you after he went out for lunch. That was three hours ago."

"I haven't seen him all day." Hughes frowned, pushing his glasses up on his nose and his tray to the side, standing at the same time Roy did.

"What are you thinking?" Hughes asked as they headed towards the doors.

"I'm thinking he lied to me. He wanted to give me the slip- he's been on a short leash lately with everything going on- he;s probably out investigating by himself." Roy said, tight-lipped. His eyes had gone dark with anger.

"Where do you think he'd go?"

"I'm not sure." Roy palmed the front doors of HQ open, only to be met by the clanging sound of metal armor running up to him.

"Colonel!"

"Alphonse. Where's your brother?" Roy asked, voice cold.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. He heard a rumor Colonel Banks was hiding out in the sewers and went down to try and capture him- I tried to tell him not to go alone, but he wouldn't listen. He said he'd check in with me in an hour, but it's been nearly three, and i can't fit through the manhole to look for him myself..." Alphonse was wringing his gauntlets nervously.

Hughes had gone pale. "Roy, the sewers..."

"I know, Hughes." Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "go get the team- we're sending all our men in."

"Looks like we don't have to. Here comes our rebel without a cause now." Hughes looked into the distance, as did Roy. A signature red figure was bobbing in the distance- stumbling, actually.

Roy broke into a jog, as did Hughes and Alphonse, to meet the boy half way.

Ed was practically shambling, looking behind him frantically at times.

"Fullmetal."

Ed flinched at his tone, but the relief on his face when he saw the Colonel was visible, and his tense shoulders relaxed.

The boy was, quite frankly, a mess. He was drenched from the knees down in grime and filth, sweat and dirt on his face- his white gloves had been soiled, and his hair was starting to escape his braid.

"Colonel."

"You lied, Fullmetal. You lied to me to go off and do something stupid on your own."

"Yeah, I did."

Roy paused. Ed was actually admitting he did something wrong instead of arguing with him. This was new.

"I know it was stupid, and I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realize how dumb I was being until it was almost too late."

"Brother, what do you mean it was almost too late!?" Alphonse asked, going ramrod straight in shock.

Roy raked his eyes over the boy, searching him for any sign of injury- but aside from his braced arm, which hung limp at his side, having been freed from his sling, there was nothing obvious.

"I need to talk to you and Hughes, Colonel." Ed admitted, eyes serious. "Alphonse- go upstairs to the office."

"Whatever you need to tell them, Ed, I can hear it too. I'm your brother." Al protested.

"And I'm the military dog!" Ed snapped. Al stepped back, surprised at the outburst. Ed's expression softened. "Sorry, Al. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just... I need to talk to them about something, and it doesn't have anything to do with the stone or our search. Nothing to do with our goal. It's military business- I promised I'd be the one to deal with that, not you."

"I just wanted to help you, Ed. I always want to help."

"I know." Ed stepped forward, resting his automail hand on his brother's chest plate affectionately. "Trust me, Al, I know. I'm sorry I was such a jerk about going off on my own today. I've been so eager to get back to searching for the stone that I've been a little reckless lately. The most help you could be to my right now is to go upstairs and read over the research summary notes I left on my desk. I'll join you to talk about them soon."

"Okay." BONK! Al brought his closed gauntlet down on the top of Ed's head.

"Ow! What was that for, Al!?" Ed protested.

"I was knocking some sense into you. Maybe next time you'll use it instead of being an idiot." Al said simply, before he was turning and striding back into HQ.

Ed sighed, looking up at Roy and Hughes with a tired expression. "You guys gonna chew me out too?"

"Probably. But I'm going to hear what you have to say first. Start talking." Roy crossed his arms over his chest, scrutinizing Ed carefully.

Ed sighed. "So I've been a little stir crazy because I've been cooped up in Central. I want to keep looking for the stone, but you said I'm supposed to stay close by until Banks is apprehended, and I know the Drachmans have something out for me now too, and I figured I'd be able to get back on the move sooner if I went after Banks myself. I heard he was in the sewers from my informant..."

"You have informants now, do you?" Hughes asked, looking amused. "And just who would they be?"

"My sources are none of your business." Ed replied, brows furrowing together. "Anyways, I was in the sewers looking for him. And I ran into someone... I don;t know who it was, but it wasn't Banks. I got this feeling- I don't know what it was, but I got the same feeling right before I lost my leg, so I knew enough to trust it. I hid- whoever he was, he didn't see me. I managed to get to the exit. But... I found some things. Some bad things."

"Like what?" Hughes asked, though he knew it was a loaded question.

"I found a dead body." Ed had stopped walking, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to bring her body back with me. For her family. But I didn't have time- I didn't know when he was coming back. I barely got away as it was, I was climbing out of the manhole when he grabbed my leg and tried to drag me back down..."

"There's more than just Banks in the sewers, Ed. There's rapists and murders and drug addicts down there too." Hughes said quietly.

"Yeah- no kidding. I'm never going back there."

"No, you're not. Because you're now on house arrest- you're to be with me or a member of the team at all times. You're not going out to lunch anymore- you can eat in the mess hall like the rest of us. You'll either be at HQ or at home. Nowhere else. Understood?"

"Yeah, I guess." Ed looked at the ground kicking a stray pebble.

Hughes and Roy exchanged glances. Ed wasn't fighting tooth an nail. The boy was probably really rattled form what he'd experienced- maybe the boy was growing up and realizing it was for his own good. Or maybe he just wasn't in the mood to fight anymore.

"Hughes. I brought back some evidence- it was the only thing I could carry."

Hughes held out his hand expectantly, and Ed fished around in his pocket for a moment before he was depositing it in Hughes palm.

It was only the fact that Hughes and Mustang had been to war and seen carnage far worse that kept both men from visibly reacting.

"Hit the showers and get back to the office. We'll talk more about this later." Roy ordered curtly.

Ed nodded, ducking into HQ and keeping his head down. He'd had enough adventure for one day.

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