#unlike the way it moves back as a solid object when it was held by a person

[autogeneity]

oh my god you guys I am not unreasonably weak and slow and whatnot, people are just shit at holding boards

[wanted-to-be-nosey]

Hide and seek

AO3 link

Prompt fill: Object Insertion Word count ~2,300 Warnings: nsfw, unsafe insertions, swearing, under-negotiated kinks?, hidden public play, public erections

Peter had no idea what he’d ever done to end up in this type of situation. Honestly, at this point he was kind of scared to ask.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. A boring mission. Barely even a mission at all.

They hadn’t even required their suits – or supersuits anyway. Instead, he’d been given a very expensive two-piece Tom Ford number. Charcoal grey to compliment Tony’s black.

He and Tony had received an invite to a gala held at some old, rich guys mansion in the Hamptons. An old, rich guy who also happened to be a collector of unusual artifacts – especially of the illegal variety. Art smuggling is not something that the Avengers would normally worry themselves about, but they’d heard rumours about a vibranium statue that T’challa was anxious to get back. Something the king had been looking for, for a while and this was the first solid lead they’d come across.

It hadn’t been hard to get an invite to the gala given Tony’s reputation. He was known for being eccentric and an odd art collector himself.

They’d assumed it would be a quick in and out situation. Chat with some people to show face, find the statue and leave. In and out in an hour tops.

What they hadn’t accounted for, was the house to have security pat downs for everyone entering and exiting the building. Very thorough pat downs at that. Even if it was concealed in an internal pocket, they’d be exposed as they left. On their arrival they’d had to pull phones from pockets and even let them examine their watches.

So, it didn’t matter that they’d found the vibranium statue – shaped like a panther sitting upright on its hind legs – within thirty minutes of arriving, tucked away in a quiet backroom.

Finding it, standing staring at it, didn’t mean anything when there wasn’t a way to actually leave the building with it. They could maybe take pictures for T’challa so he could arrange something to retrieve it himself, but it could be moved by then. It’s unlikely that something so rare would stay still for long. It was likely constantly changing hands for security.

They really didn’t want to bring in the authorities since they didn’t want to advertise the fact that Wakanda had statues lying around made entirely of vibranium. The whole idea was to keep this below board. To do this quietly.

Of course, Peter should have known that Tony would find a solution to the seemingly impossible task.

A solution that involved him waving a condom and a packet of lube in Peter’s direction.

“I’m sorry,” Peter spluttered, not for the first time. “You want to do what, now?”

Tony rolled his eyes before stepping forward to grab the vibranium statue.

“I said, that we can just pop it in the condom and tuck it safely away.” Tony weighed the statue in his hand, running his fingers over the curving lines. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cause that’s insane!”

“Not really. It’s, what? Five inches tall? Yeah, that panthers face and body will probably be an odd shape but even at its widest it’s not much wider than my dick. We both know you can take me."

“That is so not the point here, Tony,” Peter said exasperated. “Number one, it’s not about fitting it, it’s about the walking around and keeping it in. It’s heavy and there’s no base. What if it gets lost?! That’s like anal safety rule one!”

“It won’t get lost,” Tony interrupted. “Besides worst comes to it I’ll dig it out later. Promise I won’t make you go to Cho.”

“Oh my God.... even if I’m ok with that part, I don’t think T’challa is going to want it back after its been up my ass!”

“That’s what the condoms for!”

“Why don’t you do it, if you want it so much?”

“Be serious, Pete. It’s been years since I’ve bottomed. I’d need far more prep than you would. Time that we don’t have.” Tony put the statue down and took Peter’s hand instead, growing serious as he watched Peter carefully. “I know it’s not exactly going to be comfortable, and I wish there was another way, but this is all I’ve got. If you really don’t want to do it, then we’ll figure something else out. But I really do think this would work. However, just say the word and I promise I’ll drop it.”

Peter hated it when Tony made sense. Yes, they could try and come back another time, but this was their best chance. He really did want this not-quite-a-mission-but-definitely-becoming-one to be a success. And despite his reluctance, he couldn’t deny that the idea did excite him. The thought of walking out past all the other guests, his ass full, had his pulse beating faster and his cock twitching in his pants. Especially knowing what it would do to Tony.

Double checking the door was locked behind him, Peter turned around with a sigh and began unbuckling his belt.

“You better hurry up then,” he said over his shoulder, suppressing a chuckle at Tony’s dumbfounded expression. “And you better make this worth my while later.”

His trousers hadn’t even made it past his hips when Tony kicked into action, grabbing everything he’d need and kneeling reverently behind Peter as he worked his trousers and boxers down to his knee.

“Trust me, I’ll be worshipping you tonight for this,” Tony moaned as his hands roamed over Peter’s ass. “My trousers are already tight at the thought.”

As much as Peter was sure Tony would’ve liked to take his time, the older man swiftly got to work opening him up. The lube, and the fact they’d had sex the night before, meant Tony could easily fit two fingers inside and quickly worked his way up to three. Peter was carefully holding the bottom of his dress shirt to prevent him from leaving any marks or unwanted stains as he leant against the wall, panting.

“How’re you doing?” Tony checked, sounding as breathless as Peter felt.

“Good,” Peter breathed, still listening for movement out in the hallway, the voices from the main hall still drifting to him. “You can add another.”

“You sure?”

“As hot as this is, I don’t want to be caught with my trousers literally down,” he chuckled. “So, yeah, go for it.”

Peter’s breath hitched at the stretch of the fourth finger, it was sharper than he was used to. Tony usually stretched him far more than necessary, taking his time and usually resulting in Peter cumming at least once before he was deemed ready, but time was of the essence here. Tony tenderly kissed his ass and whispered reassurances. Once Peter was able to comfortably take Tony’s fingers and found himself eagerly rocking back against them, he turned to speak over his shoulder.

“I think I’m ready.”

Tony watched him for a moment before nodding and slowly extracting his fingers.

“Right. I’m going to pop this into the condom and tie it off. It doesn’t have a flared base so you’re right, it goes against like every safe insertion talk I’ve ever given but it won’t be for too long and I’ll get it out when we get back,” Tony spoke quickly and quietly as he rolled the condom over the statue. “My fingers are going to smell of condom juice for days. Ugh, it’s so slimy and not helping me get a grip to tie it.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate your feedback,” Peter smirked. “Clearly they need to improve the texture to aid those individuals looking to smuggle things in their ass.”

“Ha ha,” Tony said drily. “I know your joking, but it’s maybe something SI could look into. I’m sure I could think of a medical application for it if I try hard enough. A way to not make it sound like it’s for purely illegal purposes.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking right now or not.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Tony smirked, giving Peter’s ass a gentle smack. “Right, you ready for this?”

Peter simply nodded and turned back round; his cock was hanging heavy between his legs, but he already knew he wouldn’t be doing anything about it until they got out of there. The voices from the party were making him nervous and they’d already spent more than enough time at this stupid gala.

The cold press of the statue had him gasping, but he breathed through it as Tony slowly pushed it inside. Applying a bit more lube as the statue widened and he began to give some resistance. He couldn’t prevent a whine at the sharp, almost painful, stretch of the widest part of the statue.

“Breathe Pete, it’s almost there,” Tony murmured, stroking his hip reassuringly. Peter tried to slow his breathing and relax his muscles. He knew tensing wasn’t going to help anything, but it was hard to get his body to cooperate. “Just relax. There we go.”

“Wow,” Peter sighed as he felt his hole finally close behind the statue, the heavy weight of it sitting inside of him. An insistent presence. “Now what?”

“Now, we get out of here,” Tony said, letting his fingers trail over Peter’s crack one last time before pulling up his boxers and trousers, and standing up to allow Peter the chance to get himself sorted.

He could feel the statue within him with every movement. Not necessarily pleasurable, but not not pleasurable either. The weight of the statue made its presence known even when all he was doing was standing. His ass unintentionally clenching to keep it from falling out, despite the fact the size of it would surely add enough resistance that it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“Right,” Peter breathed, turning to face Tony, as he finished buckling his belt. “The cars waiting?”

Tony pressed a couple of buttons on his watch before nodding.

“It will be. How does it feel?”

“Weird. Heavy. I don’t know.” He took an experimental step forward and groaned. “Fuck,” he moaned. “So full. It feels good though. Moving causes it to bump around inside. Not sure I’ll be able to will away my hard-on though.”

“Me neither. Just pop your hands in your pockets and we’ll make a swift exit. Although I’m not sure the car will be the haven you think it’ll be. We’ll have about a twenty-minute drive where you’ll be sitting down and feeling every bump in the road.”

“Fuck, Tony.”

Tony smirked, “I thought you’d like that. Now, c’mon. Car should’ve arrived by now. We need to bid a quick farewell to the host and then I can take you home to ravish you like you deserve.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” Peter groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets to try and disguise his erection pressing against the front of his trousers.

Leaving the room, Peter lets Tony guide him with a hand on his low back as they bid their goodbyes. The leaving pat down was extremely awkward with the pair of them tenting their trousers, but at least it served as an excuse for their early exit. Peter would like to say the knowing smirks from the security didn’t cause his dick to twitch but he’d be lying. Apparently, he had a thing for doing risky things in public. The thought that these men had an inkling over what they were up to was causing his cheeks to flame in embarrassed arousal. But that was something they could explore further at a later date. He had a twenty-minute car ride home to endure first.

Peter jolted as he sat down. Tony had been right. The pressure increased the sensation. Despite there being no base to be pressed on, it still felt like it was being pressed further in as he sat down. Tony’d better be able to get it out when they got back or there’d be hell to pay.

“You good?” Tony asked, as he set the car in drive and slowly exited the gravel driveway, Peter gritting his teeth as he adjusted his trousers.

“Yeah,” he ground out, clenching his hands into fists.

Tony turned on the radio as they joined the main road, speeding along the empty streets. Peter took the time to admire the view outside, anything to try and distract from the ever-present fullness he was feeling. He couldn’t imagine how his ass was ever going to relax enough to get it out again.

They were pulling up to Tony’s own house in the Hampden’s when the realisation suddenly hit to Peter.

“Hey, I just realised, we could’ve just taken it out when we got into the car.”

The twinkle in Tony’s eye as he turned to grin at Peter let him know Tony had already had that thought and chosen to ignore it.

“We could’ve, but this was way more fun, don’t you think?”

“Ugh,” Peter groaned.

“Besides, I promised to make it worth your while. This way you’re just extra ramped up for me and I’ll just have to worship you for longer to make up for your extra suffering.”

“You’re insufferable,” Peter huffed without any real bite.

“Yet, you love me. C’mon, you know it’s always better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. And don’t even try to deny that you weren’t into it. I saw how you reacted to those security guys. Don’t think that’s not something we’ll be discussing at depth later. I have so many ideas. But first, I believe I promised you an extraction so let’s get inside, yeah?”

Rolling his eyes, Peter nodded and exited the car. Small moans escaping him again as he stood up and the statue yet again shifted. T’challa better appreciate the effort that went into this retrieval. It was certainly going to be one he remembered for the rest of his life. Especially if the rest of the night went as well as he was hoping.

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 11 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 11

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (cunniligus, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*, creampie)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter 11

You and Heisenberg sat side by side against the headboard as he told you everything.  The bed sheet was pulled up to his waist while you pulled it higher, covering your nakedness.  He reached for a cigar and lighter on his nightstand, puffing and exhaling in between the story.  You kept your eyes focused forward: on your legs under the sheets, on your hands in your lap, anywhere but turning your head to look at him.

It took him almost an hour to relay everything to you.  His story started over 100 years ago when the woman you now knew as Mother Miranda lost her daughter Eva.  You listened as he told you how she discovered an unknown organism under the village known as the Megamycete.  Heisenberg stopped periodically, puffed his cigar, and asked if you wanted a break or if you had any questions.  All you could do is shake your head and bid him to keep talking.

Your heart broke hearing him talk about how Mother Miranda kidnapped him from his family and infected him with Cadou.  The name of the organism sounded familiar, then you remembered that it was the thing in the jar that Moreau had in his laboratory.  Heisenberg explained that the Cadou drastically changed an individual...either physically, mentally, metaphysically, and sometimes in every way imaginable.  He told you that the Cadou is what gave him the ability to move metal objects with his mind.  He also shared the fact that he was able to manipulate electric fields and communicate through electronics like radios, televisions, and the overhead PA system that was installed in the factory.  

He shared that the Cadou was why Moreau was trapped in the prison that is his mutated body.

Tears slid down your cheeks at the thought of Moreau being in constant pain and turmoil because this “mother,” as he lovingly called her the last time you were with him, turned him into a monster.  But your heart also ached at the thought of Karl being taken as a child, experimented on, and left alone with a family that was not his family.  You could only imagine how scared and alone he must have felt, how much he must have missed his family, and how his real family must have searched for him for years until they all eventually died off one by one.

Heisenberg came to the end of his story, stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray, and slowly turned his head to look at you.  A part of him was scared, scared that you wouldn’t believe him, or worse, that you would run as far away from him as possible.  It was a thought that tied his stomach into knots.  He had wanted you from the moment he set eyes on you and had just gotten you into his arms and into his bed...he didn’t want to lose you now.

You shifted next to him and he waited for you to rise from the bed, put your clothes back on, and demand to be taken somewhere where you could call for rescue.  He was surprised when instead you looped your arm under his and held his bicep, resting your head on his shoulder.  He sighed in relief, a slow smile spreading over his face as he lifted his hand and placed it on your outer leg, pulling your legs closer to him.

“So what do you think?” Heisenberg asked, pressing his lips into your hair.

“It’s unbelievable,” you murmured, “but then again, I’ve seen enough of this village to know that unbelievable things happen and reside here.  I should have known when I saw that thing that looked like a tree reach up and rip off the wing of the plane..”

Heisenberg furrowed his brow at your words.  A tree?  Then it dawned on him that you were referring to the mold.  He came to the conclusion that you must have looked out of the plane window and saw it strike.  He could only imagine how terrifying it was to be on a plane and experience it not only crashing, but also being the only survivor.

“The mold...the thing you saw is called the mold.  I saw it retreating back into the village after your plane crashed.  I knew if there were any survivors that Mother Miranda would find them and infect them in hopes that one would bring her daughter back into this life.  When I saw you...you looked so frightened, so fragile...and you were so beautiful.  You never know what the Cadou will do to a host, Moreau and the lycans being the disastrous part of the spectrum.  So I grabbed you, told Moreau I would kill him if he told anyone, and here you are.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked up at him.  His penetrating gaze, the scars that peppered his face, his long hair that fell to his chin, and his beard...Heisenberg was incredibly handsome.  His physical body was not adversely affected by Mother Miranda’s experimentation.  And even though he didn’t tell you why he brought you here at first, you were grateful that he finally confided in you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, smiling at him, “I understand now why you brought me here and why you were so secretive.  I would never have believed you at first and automatically would have written you off as crazy.  And the bodies in the factory...you need an army to stop Miranda.  The bodies from the cemetery, the bodies from the plane crash...you need all the help you can get.  It’s...it’s tough to think of Bruce and the others being turned into mindless soldiers, but I understand why you need them…”

Heisenberg’s eyes searched yours.  His hand squeezed your leg reassuringly.  “I’m so sorry you had to see your friend like that.  I didn’t know you had gotten to know him on the plane.  To me, they were always just tools to aid me in my battle with Miranda...but they were once people.  They had families, friends...I promise you when this is over, I will put their bodies to rest.”

You nodded.  “I’ll help you...help you bury them, say a few words...convince their ghosts not to come back and haunt you for all eternity…”

He chuckled and leaned in, kissing your lips softly.  You lifted your hand and caressed his cheek, feeling the scruffiness of his beard.  A surprised groan formed in his throat as you pushed your tongue out to lick his lips.  Both of his hands lifted, cupped your face, and deepened the kiss.

The two of you sat there, kissing and making out like a pair of horny teenagers.  You released the sheet that covered your breasts and it pooled in your lap.  One of Heisenberg’s hands went around to your back, pulling you closer, as his other hand stayed pressed to your cheek.

He pulled away from the kiss, which made you whimper.  He laughed before growling playfully and moving to his knees.  Pulling the sheets off of your body, he grabbed your thighs and pulled your body forward, making you lie back on your pillow.  “Karl!” you squealed as he made quick work of spreading your legs and lying on his stomach between them.

“I’ve only briefly tasted you...now I want to devour you…” he growled.  Both of his arms wrapped under and around your legs as his lips kissed the soft skin of your inner thighs.  You sat up on your elbows, your mouth going dry and your heart beating wildly.  As you watched him kiss up and down one thigh before moving to the other, you felt your arousal accelerate.  You had been intimate before, but you had never had a man go down on you.  It had been a fantasy for a long time.  You fantasized about it over and over as you pleasured yourself.  And now, here is this mysterious, strong man between your legs, moving achingly slow towards your pussy.

“Karl…” you whispered, your thighs trembling on either side of his face.  His lips spread in a grin as he hovered over your pussy, blowing softly on your clit.  Your lips parted and you moaned loudly, arching your hips up to his mouth.  Heisenberg laughed and kissed along the flesh of your labia, his teeth gently nibbling on it.  Desire and arousal churned in your stomach and you could feel your wetness pooling out of you.

“Do you like that, doll face?” he asked, kissing around your clit, “does it feel good?”

All you could do was nod your head and move your hips.  He was mercilessly teasing you, tormenting you with his skilled mouth and never truly giving you what you wanted.

“Mmmm...you smell so good…” Heisenberg murmured, pressing the tip of his nose to your clit and nuzzling it softly.

“Karl, for fuck’s sake...please...please…” you begged, grabbing the sheets in your fists.  His gaze fixed on yours and he smiled, slowly extended his tongue, and circled around your clit.

You tossed your head back and cried out, your lower back arching off the bed.  You panted and moaned his name as his tongue curled and flicked over the swollen nub.  The pleasure that coursed through your body was unlike anything you had ever felt before.  The feel of his hands spreading your thighs wider and his fingers sinking into your skin almost drove you insane.

“Karl...Karl...oh fuck...yes...yes...don’t stop…” you whimpered.  Heisenberg chuckled softly, closing his lips around your clit and sucking.  One hand released the sheets and shot up to the headboard, grabbing onto one of the railings for dear life.  Your body undulated and gyrated on his bed as his mouth gave you pleasure beyond anything you had ever felt before.

Heisenberg became drunk with power as he looked up at you.  The way you moved and the sounds that slid past your lips made him unbelievably hard.  He found himself grinding his solid cock into the bed, desperate for friction.  Your reaction to his mouth was better than any pornographic image he had seen in his long life.  His eyes darkened as ideas flowed through his mind.  He made mental notes of all of the things he wanted to do to you right here in his bed...and all of the ways he would make you scream his name and shout your ecstasy.

He moved his right hand from your thigh to your dripping pussy.  He pulled away his mouth momentarily in order to softly caress your opening with the pads of his fingers.  You continued to moan and pant.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue over and over again…” Heisenberg promised, “and I’m going to shove my fingers inside of you...fingering you and tasting every part of your delicious cunt…”

Both of your hands were on the headboard railings, your body twisting amongst the sheets.  Your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face as he pushed his index and middle fingers inside of you.  His mouth went back to your clit, flicking it thoroughly as he rubbed your G-spot back and forth.

“Karl...you’re gonna make me cum...I wanna cum on your fingers...on your face...let me cum on your fucking face!!” you shouted, all manners and discretion completely thrown out of the window.  Heisenberg growled and gave you what you wanted.  His fingers pushed in and out of your wet opening noisily, the squelching sounds of your wetness audible to the both of you.  His tongue flicked your clit hard and fast and within seconds your lower back was arched completely off the bed and your orgasm shook your entire body.  You screamed his name over and over until his mouth slowly brought you back down to reality.

Aftershocks shook you as Heisenberg crawled up your body, chuckling against the skin of your stomach.  You released the railings and brought your hands to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

His lips met yours and you kissed him hard.  You felt his skin pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your body and held you tight.  The sensation of your retreating orgasm followed by his strong arms made your heart surge in your chest.  You felt wanted, desired, and protected.  He had given you more pleasure than you had ever been given by any other guy or even yourself for that matter.  The connection you were feeling with him was growing...you hoped that Heisenberg felt it as well.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he rolled his hips against your wet cunt.  His hard cock rubbed back and forth between your pussy lips, making your desire accelerate all over again.

Heisenberg’s tongue explored your mouth, sliding and nudging yours into submission.  His hands slid up your back and to your shoulders, hugging you close.  Arousal and the growing need of his body increased.  His lips kissed down your neck and to your chest, licking the thin sheen of sweat that settled on your flesh.

“Karl…” you whispered, moving one hand down along his shoulder blades as your other hand stayed tangled in his hair.  

“I love hearing your beautiful voice say my name…” he moaned, kissing down between your breasts.  You arched your hips and spread your thighs wider, aching to feel him inside of you.  Heisenberg pushed himself up on one hand while his other reached down to grab his cock.  He rubbed the tip up and down along your pussy, teasing you mercilessly.

“Karl...please fuck me again...fuck me…” you said, arching your hips higher.  You were desperate to feel him, to feel his cock stretch you out and to feel his hips hammering down against yours.

He pushed inside of you and the both of you moaned loudly.  His left hand moved up to the headboard, holding it tight as the other hand wrapped around your leg, hiking it higher up on his hip.

The feel of his hips hammering you into the bed was enough to drive you mad.  His cock pushed deeper, faster, and harder.  It was like he could no longer help himself...now that you were under him, he was possessed.

Your hands reached around to his lower back, moving up and down in time with his thrusts.  Your pussy walls clenched around his cock every time he pushed inside of you and his grunts became louder because of it.  You gripped him like a vice and he had to hold himself off from cumming too soon.  He wanted you to cum again, but this...he wanted to feel it, experience it, memorize every fucking part of your cunt.

“Y/N...oh god pussycat, you’re killing me...your fucking cunt...it’s so damn tight and wet...god dammit!!” he yelled, tossing his head back.  Looking up at him losing control and fucking you harder and desperately...you wanted to give him as much pleasure as he was giving you.

His hand released your leg and went to the back of your head, making you look down at his cock thrusting in and out of you.  His other hand pressed to the bed, gripping the sheets.  “Look at how your cunt is taking my cock...taking my cock like a good little girl…”

Your orgasm was close as you watched his hips crashing down on yours, his cock moving quickly in and out of you.  You gripped his hips and screamed his name again and again.  Heisenberg moved forcefully, the bed banging against the wall.

“Fuck, Y/N!  Fuck!!!  Oh fuck, your amazing pussy is gonna kill me!” Heisenberg shouted.  You looked up into his face, his features twisted into pleasure so primal and hedonistic.  His hair fell in his face, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes were fused to yours.

“Cum inside of me, Karl,” you begged, squeezing his cock tightly inside of you.

“OH FUCK ME!!!” he shouted, tossing his head back.  You felt him cum, his cock twitching inside of you and in seconds you came as well, your body bucking wildly, holding tight to his hips.  Heisenberg continued to curse and grunt as he pumped every drop of cum inside of you.  You trembled under him, moving your hands up his sides, down his chest and stomach, and up his back.  He released a shaky breath as he slowly lowered himself onto his elbows, burying his face into your neck.

His body rocked on top of you, still thrusting slowly.  You kissed along his shoulder and nuzzled his skin with your nose.  The feel of his hot breath on your neck and his sweat-slicked skin against yours was incredible.  You never wanted him to let you go.

Heisenberg rolled to his side, pulling you with him, his cock still inside of you.  You lifted your leg and rested it atop his hip.  His fingers slid up and down your spine, making you shudder.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Heisenberg whispered, his lips pressed to your forehead, “so, so amazing…”

You closed your eyes, a smile spreading across your face, as you fell asleep in his arms.

[robininthelabyrinth]

LXC is the legal guardian and adopter for LSZ or LJY, and NMJ has questions.

part 2 of the LJY-adopted-by-LQR fic (now also on ao3)

-

“So, did I knock you up before I went to war or something?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Because I feel like you should’ve mentioned it if that was the case. Possibly in a letter.”

Lan Xichen was so tired that it took him a solid minute to parse what was wrong with that sentence and how to respond, and it was not by following his first instinct to apologize that he should’ve written better letters.

“Stop making fun of me,” he said instead, groping towards some measure of dignity.

Sadly, dignity was in very short supply when you were taking care of babies. Multiple babies. Well, one baby and one toddler, which was somehow worse?

Lan Xichen was pretty sure they’d figured out how to time their crying off each other.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue said, like a liar, and then he picked up little Jingyi and – Lan Xichen simply cannot find another way to put it – shook him, in a manner not unlike testing a melon for freshness.

For some reason, this made Lan Jingyi stop crying and start making snuffling little giggles instead.

“How did you do that?” Lan Xichen asked, eyes wide.

“Do what?” Nie Mingjue tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and scooped up some food off the table, offering it to him, and Lan Jingy actually ate it. “Xichen, are you feeling all right?”

“Shhh!” Lan Xichen hissed, eyes fixed on the baby, which was neither spitting up everything nor wailing as if his heart was broken. “No unnecessary noise during meals.”

Nie Mingjue snorted in amusement. “Sure,” he said amiably, in the tone Lan Xichen had long ago learned meant ‘nice rules you’ve got there, it’d be an awful shame if someone found a loophole in them’. “This isn’t a meal, though; it’s just a snack.”

Lan Xichen eyed the still-not-crying Lan Jingyi and decided that now was not the time for a spirited debate on the virtues of discipline and fulfilling the merits rather than the word of a rule.

“Where’s monster number one gone?” Nie Mingjue asked abruptly. “He must be very good at hiding, because I looked away for a blink of an eye and he was gone.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes slowly dropped down to where a cloth-covered lump was not-so-sneakily edging towards Nie Mingjue’s foot.

Nie Mingjue was one of the foremost front line fighters of their generation, and possibly the previous one as well. His physical ability was matched only by his incredibly keen senses.

There was no way he was not aware of the lump.

“It’s a real shame, too,” Nie Mingjue continued. “I was planning on doing a test of how far you can throw children, but I think monster two here’s a bit too small to make the test worthwhile. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be –”

You can’t throw children, Lan Xichen was about to say, except Lan Sizhui was tearing off the tablecloth and jumping up in excitement, shouting, “Here! Here! I’m here! I’m big enough! You can throw me!”

“Why does he want to be thrown,” Lan Xichen murmured, bewildered. He’d never wanted to be thrown around as a child. Had he?

In fairness, he wasn’t sure. No one had ever offered.

Apparently, though, Lan Sizhui did very much want to be thrown around, and Lan Jingyi even condescended to allow Lan Xichen to hold him while he watched.

“Higher! Higher!” Lan Sizhui shouted.

“Really? Is this high enough?” Nie Mingjue held him up at eye level.

“Higher!”

“Like this?” Above his head.

“Higher!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“All right. How about –” Baxia slithered out from her place by the door, zipping over until she was right in front of Nie Mingjue, allowing him to step onto her like a stair, and then zipping upwards to about hip-height, lifting Nie Mingjue and Lan Sizhui with her. They very nearly hit a tree branch with their heads. “– this?”

Lan Sizhui shrieked with laughter.  

“It’s too early to introduce them to flying,” Lan Xichen objected, because it was. “Mingjue-xiong…”

Nie Mingjue hopped down with a laugh. “All right, one last toss,” he told Lan Sizhui. “Then you nap. Okay?”

“Okay!” Lan Sizhui, who had never once willingly succumbed to naptime in the entirety of the time that Lan Xichen had known him, promised earnestly.

Back into the pile of soft grass he went, giggling the entire time, and amazingly enough he really did fall asleep afterwards. Lan Jingyi, too, had fallen asleep at some point.

“I’ve decided that your brother needs more experience running a sect,” Lan Xichen told Nie Mingjue, who raised his eyebrows. “Starting immediately. I promise to allow you to leave when Jingyi is, oh, shall we say five years old..?”

You could reason with a five year old. 

Nie Mingjue laughed.

It was a type of laugh that suggested that he thought Lan Xichen was making a joke. This was incorrect.

“You’d be amazed at how serious I am,” Lan Xichen told him threateningly, “I’m sect leader here, this is my territory, I can have you arrested any time –” but by that point Nie Mingjue was already bundling him off to bed, too, combing out his hair and plying him with snacks and –

This was not helping his argument that Lan Xichen should be allowing him to leave rather than keep him trapped in the Cloud Recesses as a babysitter-slash-love-slave. 

Well, he wouldn’t really do that, of course. He’d let him go. Eventually.

It’d probably be good for Nie Mingjue’s stress levels, honestly.

“Seriously, though, how did you do that?” he asked, his head on Nie Mingjue’s lap. “They didn’t cry once.”

“I’m good with kids,” Nie Mingjue said, his fingers digging into Lan Xichen’s scalp in just the right way. “Now can you explain to me how exactly you ended up with them? Two, no less?”

Lan Xichen groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. “Sizhui’s Wangji’s,” he explained. “Not biologically, but he’s put his name down in the family register under his own. But, you know…”

“I know.”

Lan Xichen appreciated that he didn’t need to go into it. The doctors had estimated that Lan Wangji would regain full mobility within three years, so that was the period the elders had mandated for his so-called ‘seclusion’, but with Lan Wangji being locked away like that – even with visitors, even though he was trying his hardest to care for the child from where he was – meant that someone had to care for the child’s day-to-day life until his brother was ready to resume the role.

“Jingyi is a cousin, I think,” he continued. “His parents are dead, and uncle accepted guardianship for him…I think he’s going to adopt him, actually.”

“Then why is he with you?”

“I volunteered.”

“Xichen, I say this with a full heart of affection and tremendous respect for your capabilities,” Nie Mingjue said. “But why in the world would you go and do a stupid thing like that?”

Lan Xichen sighed. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue that it wasn’t stupid – he was, quite obviously, terrible with children.

“Uncle’s still injured from the war,” he admitted. In fact, his injury was probably even older than the war, dating as far back as the burning of the Cloud Recesses – his uncle had never been much of a fighter, his impressive cultivation strength stemming almost entirely from gentler arts like music and learning and meditation, but when his home and his family and his students were at risk, he’d fought, while Lan Xichen ran. Not just fought; he’d kept fighting long past the point that his body allowed. It only made sense for the bill to need to be paid. “He had a recurrence of an old complaint, not long ago; he started coughing up blood. The doctors insisted that he try to avoid anything that might cause him  stress.”

“Stress. Like, say, a rowdy infant?”

“Exactly like a rowdy infant,” Lan Xichen agreed, glad that Nie Mingjue did not mention that what had happened with Lan Wangji was also likely a source of stress. At least the two of them had slowly started to repair their relationship recently – the heartbreak would kill their uncle sooner than anything else, and Lan Xichen might be weak, but he really couldn’t tolerate the idea of suffering any more loss.

And also, if Lan Wangji could see his way to forgiving their uncle, he might one day agree to forgive Lan Xichen, too.

“I see. So you ended up with the little one, too.”

“Yes. And they hate me.” Nie Mingjue coughed a little. “No, don’t deny it. They clearly hate me. They always cry and spit and yell -”

“They’re children, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said. “Traumatized children. They do that.”

Lan Xichen didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Nie Mingjue was frowning in memory of pain long past. Lan Xichen remembered, with painful clarity, how young Nie Huaisang had been when Lao Nie had died, how badly he had taken it.

There’d been a lot of crying and vomiting and yelling there as well.

“You’re good with kids,” Lan Xichen said instead of commenting, trading delicacy for delicacy; he would not touch Nie Mingjue’s still-bleeding wounds just as Nie Mingjue avoided his own. “Very good.”

“Well, I like to think so, anyway.”

They remained in blissful, comfortable silence for a while.

“How would it have even worked?” Lan Xichen finally asked. His eyes were still closed, Nie Mingjue’s fingers running through his hair; he never wanted to move again.

“Hmm?”

“If you knocked me up before you went to war. I mean, they’re not even the same age.”

“Well, one of them’s from the affair, obviously.”

“I’m sorry, am I cheating on you now?” Lan Xichen opened an eye and pinned Nie Mingjue with a fierce look that instructed his lover to reconsider.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, mock-solemnly. His eyes were dancing. “You were so distraught after receiving incorrect news of my untimely demise that you conducted a ghost marriage with my spirit, and then went and had a child to continue my name.”

“…they’re both surnamed Lan.”

“So what? Are you saying I’m not good enough to marry into your sect, is that it?”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks were hurting from trying not to laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of implying such a thing.”

“There you go, then.”

“Can I ask why I felt the need to have a child to continue your name if I had one already?”

“…well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve got nothing.”

Lan Xichen burst out laughing.

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Three of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta’d so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

You’ve just stepped out of the grocery store when you’re half-barrelled into by something big and solid. Instead of falling, like you expect, when the moment passes, you realise not only are you standing upright, but that your arms have been relieved of the two heavy paper bags you’d previously held.

It takes you second to fully process the situation, but when you do, you find yourself blinking up at the smug face of Bucky Barnes, your load now tucked easily under his arm, looking a whole lot smaller than when you’d struggled to pick them up.

“Wha– I thought you were away?!” You let yourself gasp in belated surprise, resting a hand over your heart momentarily. He wears sunglasses, which you find odd considering it wasn’t exactly bright out, but you’re still a little too taken aback by his sudden appearance to really make note of it.

“And miss our shopping trip?” He asks, voice filled with mock horror.

“You can’t shake me off that easy. I stick.” The smugness melts from his features, replaced by something softer as you shake your head at him, beginning to walk.

Almost a whole month and a half of these regular, strange meetings, and the two of you had fallen into something that felt a lot like friendship, but crucially, wasn’t quite. Usually he’d help you with your groceries, sometimes you’d corner him at a cafe and seemingly quiz him on aspects of HYDRA and your capture. It was… comfortable, and you hated to admit it, but you’d sorely missed actual human interaction.

Bucky moves to walk beside you on the footpath, and you eye him. You understand why he wears sunglasses now, at this angle you could clearly see the large purple and black bruise around the ring of his eye, and when you take a closer, less subtle look at his clothing, you realise he’d simply thrown on his heavy winter coat over top of what looked like a blue motorcycle jacket.

“You know I would have been just fine if you had somewhere else to be…” You venture, shifting your eyes away from him as you speak. Bucky glances down at you, and then at his attire.

“Just got back.” He says shortly, though you’ve come to know that was just his way sometimes.

“Most people might go take a shower… get some sleep… not go help some lady with her shopping.” You muse.

The slight smugness returns to his face and his gait and he swings his head to look down at you with a corny grin, only added to by the shades.

“Most people aren’t me.” He tells you cockily, leaning down slightly to emphasise this. He leans back again moments later, as if considering you, and you squirm a little under his gaze.

“Besides, I think you like having someone do the heavy liftin’.” It’s still part of his act, something halfway between a shadow of himself from a different time, and a romance lead perhaps.

You noticed he fell back on humour, on sarcasm or this faux personality whenever he felt like his true response wouldn’t be acceptable. Maybe most people wouldn’t notice the shifts so clearly, but you do. You did the same thing any time you had to interact with another human being.

Still, the way it makes butterflies appear in your chest sends you off kilter every time, not just because it was him, but because it had been a solid amount of time since anybody spoke to you or flirted with you like you were a halfway decent option. Especially someone who looked like Bucky.

You weren’t blind, you’d recognised his objective attractiveness long ago, somewhere in a dimly lit room, where tracing his jawline was a distraction from whatever else.

But it was different now. He wasn’t just the tragically beautiful assassin you were forced to work on, he was… Bucky.

An almost friend.

Bucky.

You scoff at his display, and at any fleeting notion that he’d even really look at you twice, and shake your head.

“I can’t say it doesn’t help on the days my hands shake too much… Lost one too many cartons of eggs to that.” You chortle at your own past predicament.

You miss the way Bucky’s smile falters, and his shoulders drop, and he forces himself to look away from you for several seconds.

“Where were you, anyway?” You ask, changing the subject as you come to a set of lights. Bucky shifts your groceries to his other arm and cocks his head at you.

“I’m pretty sure our deal was that I answer questions about what I used to do. Didn’t think my current shenanigans were on the table…?” You see an eyebrow rise above the lens of the glasses, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. I didn’t want to hear about your sidekick stuff anyway.” You turn away from him slightly only for him to step into your view again.

“Sidekick? You call me a sidekick?” Bucky sounds almost genuinely offended, and you scoff, leaving him trailing behind you when the walking light turns green and you make for the other side of the street.

“Please, you’re basically a professional sidekick.” You can’t keep the grin from your lips now as Bucky hurries to catch up with you, his brow now in a deep set frown.

“That’s unkind. That’s hurtful.” He tells you, truly, honestly pouting.

“I’ll have you know my sidekick stuff is extremely interesting.” He continues, sticking his nose up a little now. You shrug.

“Probably, but you didn’t wanna tell me about it so…” You spin to face him as you speak, stopping on your apartment buildings stoop.

Bucky still pouts as you blindly buzz yourself in, taking towards the stairs right away. Bucky follows, and you realise a little too late that he never usually came inside with you. He’d usually hand over your things at the door. Truthfully, as dismissive as you were being, you were actually rather glad he’d shown up, and you weren’t quite ready yet to part ways.

The rest of the climb to your floor is filled with Bucky huffing about how cool his job was, and you internally wondering if it was too weird to invite him inside. Your fear of the man had all but evaporated, despite the frequent dreams you’d been having, but you wonder if letting him into your home would change that.

Your apartment was your sanctuary. You had escape routes mapped just in case, you’d organised your things so that there was always some kind of makeshift weapon available to you in every room… considering these plans were made with his last break-in in mind, you’re not sure how your subconscious might react to having him physically within your space again.

You act as natural as possible, and when you do reach your door, you force yourself to steady your hand as you unlock it. Bucky had stopped even his playful whining, and you know he isn’t ignorant to the current situation.

Stepping inside, you hold your door open with your hip and casually jerk your head in the direction of your kitchen.

“That can just go on the counter.” You say, cursing the slight shake in your words. You continue ahead of him quickly, even as you hear your door close shut behind you, depositing your purse and coat on the sofa.

Bucky does as you say, and you turn in time to see him step back from the countertop, his eyes darting around the space quickly.

A different kind of anxiety rolls over you then, and you regret having not tidied up a little before inviting him inside.

“It’s a little messy…” You apologise, sweeping some dust from the nearest surface and scrunching your nose. Bucky blinks at you and frowns, opening his mouth, but you accidentally cut him off as another thought hits you.

“And I’m sorry about the cold… The window keeps breaking.” You gesture to the main window in your living space, rolling your eyes a little.

Bucky’s face morphs into a frown as he looks past you to the window in question, a plastic bag duct taped over a portion.

“Your windows broken?” He asks, concern filling his voice.

“It keeps happening. My landlord employs the cheapest handyman in the city, I swear to god…” You roll your eyes again and try to brush it off with a laugh, but Bucky’s face doesn’t change, even as he looks back to you.

“It’s the middle of winter.” He states, and then before you can reply, he straightens, his frown of displeasure shifting into one of determination.

“I’ll fix it.”

---

Bucky replays the clips on his phone one last time, making sure he properly understood the instruction, before he moves to copy it.

A short trip to the hardware store later, he’s back in your apartment, sat awkwardly on your windowpane as he finishes up replacing the lower piece of glass. He’d made sure the piece he’d bought was hardy, and unlikely to cause you future problems. He can’t imagine how cold it would have gotten in your place with a broken window, and tries not to scowl.

You linger nearby, having put your groceries away and offered him coffee, you now sit on your couch pretending that you weren’t watching him.

He doesn’t blame you for eyeing him just as nervously as you had on his first few visits with you. Seeing each other out and about was one thing, but he doesn’t underestimate the amount of trust you were showing in allowing him into your home. Hell, he doesn’t even think he’d be extending such liberties if he were you.

But he’s glad for it, if not only for selfish reasons.

It was easy for Bucky to pretend he didn’t know your status to one another. He’d ignored the little black mark long enough, ignored the urge to seek you out (before he knew you were you) so it really wasn’t that different for him. The only problem, and it wasn’t really a problem just yet, was that Bucky liked you.

He liked your jokes and your sass, he liked the way your expressions spoke louder than your words ever could, and how you didn’t even seem to realise you were making them half the time. He liked that you always seemed to have something interesting to add to a conversation, even on topics he wouldn’t have thought had much interest.

You were smart, and funny and cynical in all the same ways as him, and Bucky liked spending time with you. If he didn’t think it would make you uncomfortable, he’d hang around you a lot more.

Being friends with you was easy, in the same way that being friends with Sam was easy. He didn’t have to hold back certain information, or pretend he was something he wasn’t. You knew everything already, and for some reason, had decided you were okay with him sticking around.

“Do you think you’re going to find your soulmate?”

The question nearly makes him jump, as if you’d been looking right into his thoughts.

Bucky stops what he’s doing briefly and looks up at you. Your lips are pursed and your eyes move from his exposed wrist to his face. He coaches his face into what he might consider normal if the situation were different, and hums.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He clears his throat, and watches you shift your position on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you.

“I don’t know. It’s not really something I have to consider, so I guess I was just thinking about our situations… How it would feel.” You frown as you speak, and Bucky already knows you’re unsatisfied with how you’d answered. He stops completely and faces you, giving you his full attention.

“What do you mean?” He prompts. You think for a moment.

“I guess I just don’t know if I would.” You state, still frowning, though this time for an entirely different reason. Bucky feels something in his chest tighten.

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly the most normal person in the world… and I know your soulmate is supposed to be your perfect half, but there’s still choice involved, right? Not everyone chooses to be with their soulmate in the end…” Your eyes turn down to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

“I’m just not sure they’d want me.”

Bucky’s stomach drops at your confession, something an awful lot like hurt shooting through him.

He wants to hurry and reassure you that you were wrong, that you didn’t have to worry, but he stops himself.

He reminds himself that your fears were his own, only he knew for a fact the answer.

“I don’t think you should spend your time worrying about that.” He says carefully. You stop fidgeting and look up at him. He swallows thickly.

“Your soulmate will want you, regardless of if you’re the most normal person in the world or not. And if they’re worried about your past, or the way it affects you now, then they probably don’t deserve you anyway.”

Bucky shrugs, and tears his eyes from yours to continue in his task, but stays fully aware that your gaze remains trained on him.

“If you found them, I’m sure they would want you.” He adds, almost anxiously, his mind buzzing with a million thoughts.

From the couch, you let out a short laugh, the tension in the room lifting a little. He spares a glance at you, unable to to stop the smile that creeps onto his face at the sight of your own.

“What?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Just never took the Winter Soldier for a romantic.” You tease, making him roll his eyes.

Bucky puts the last touches on your new and improved window and takes a step back.

“Would it shock you to learn HYDRA didn’t count it as a useful skill?”

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!!  I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile.  It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible.  I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them.  Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!  

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter.  I changed things a little bit.  We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late.  The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did.  I promise! 

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone! 

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously.  Watching her fix the wall was incredible.  It was unlike anything you’ve seen before.  So unusual yet so familiar. 

Wanda smiled lightly at you.  “Alright, I understand.  But please feel free to come by anytime.  Whatever you need,” She said.  You smiled back at the woman. 

“Of course!  Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door. 

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you.  Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face.  “Vision?  What’s wrong, buddy?  You look paler than a ghost.” 

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood.  The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place.  “It’s nothing,” He smiled.  

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you.  It was cut nearly in half.  From what, you couldn’t tell. 

“Absolutely.  I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father.  It feels like it happened so quickly.” 

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision.  You’ll be fine though.  You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too.  Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone.  You’ve got this whole town.”  

“That’s true.  This town seems to be quite... Supportive.” 

“Sometimes too supportive.  It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh. 

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected.  Sometimes it is almost concerning.  This town is nothing like I have ever seen before.  I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” 

~

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on.  The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it.  His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was. 

“I won’t ask again.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.  

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form.  He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly.  His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined.  Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself.  “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.  

“Quite,” He said stiffly.  Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention.  He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another.  “I am Loki.  But who are you?” 

“That’s impossible,” Scott said.  “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.” 

“2018?” Loki questioned.  “The year 2018?” 

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes.  “What other year would I mean?” 

“What year is it now then?” 

“2023.  You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here.  The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this.  Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?” 

Scott ignored his question.  “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me.  But they told me he died.  Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Scott shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there.  Plans have changed.” 

~

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue.  It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore.  The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border.  The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades.  An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering.  Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign.  Now it seemed ominous. 

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road.  It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore.  Or perhaps, it was the other way around.  For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.  

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight.  The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away.  The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly.  A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.  

So you kept on walking. 

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it.  You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it.  You hardly remember anything before Westview.  What was on the outside? 

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier.  It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago.  The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer.  It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside.  Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back.  The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.  

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did.  You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it.  You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand.  They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.  

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.  No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched.  You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in.  It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.  

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body.  You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on.  You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.  

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it.  It felt as if you were frozen solid.  Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out.  Memories were starting to seep in though.  Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.  

You gained feeling back in your hand again.  You had to be close to the end if you could feel it.  In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier.  You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath.  It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.  

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you.  “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say.  It was distinct, clear, loud.  Whoever it was sounded like the leader. 

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface.  A gurney, probably.  You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were.  Someone familiar stood next to you.  It was Geraldine.  Was that her name?  

At that point it didn’t matter.  Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.  

“You’ll be okay, Y/N.  We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you.  She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her. 

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had.  For the first time in a long time you were able to dream.  These dreams weren’t normal though.  

They were memories. 

Memories of everything before Westview. 

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear.  Clearly, he was just an illusion.  Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control.  He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.  

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track.  They never told him about Y/N being involved.  They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.  

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked.  They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right.  Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea. 

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time. 

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.  

~

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy.  She felt something turn in her chest.  Something was wrong.  Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.  

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts.  He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back.  She turned to him and smiled.  

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked. 

“No, nothing at all.  Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.  

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong. 

.

.

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[shurisneakers]

shut in [2]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: ayeeee, we’re back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Hours were spent on the road in thick silence. 

The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didn’t dare to stop.

Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about. 

Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit. 

You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.

“Where are you going?” your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly. 

You didn’t answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didn’t have a backup plan if this didn’t go right.

It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked. 

You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My summer vacation house,” you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .

Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind. 

The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadn’t done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.

Probably would, but not for too long.

You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.

You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.

You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in. 

“You’re kidding right?” he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.

“Hey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.” You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.

Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.

“Whose safehouse is this?”

“Ransone’s.” You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.

“I have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.” His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. “This ain’t one of them.”

“He’s sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.” The house wasn’t as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. “Broke my whole heart, he did.”

“Whose house is this?” he asked once again, tone hard as steel.

“Best that you don’t ask questions, buddy.” You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. “Or else you’re welcome to leave.”

The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.

In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter.  There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.

It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.

You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.

However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.

The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.

You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.

It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.

You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-

You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.

It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.

Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying. 

“I’m not calling him,” the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward. 

“Fine.” You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.

You let it ring all the way until the very last second.

“Hello?” the low voice resonated from the other end.

“Ransone.” You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him. 

“Y/N?” His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately. 

“Did you set us up?” You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.

“What?”

“Did you set us up?” you repeated brazenly.

“What?”

“Oh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?” The guy next to you exploded impatiently.

“Wilson?” Great. A name to the face.

“Answer the fuckin’ question, Vincent.” The mention of Ranone’s first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.

“No, Sam,” came his response almost mockingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. You’d heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.

“Why were both of us on the same assignment?”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure if Wilson was going to show up.” You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. “This was his mission first.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface. 

“It means,” Ransone emphasised. “I called him first. He was being a bit… difficult. So I sent you as a backup.”

You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?” If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.

“Oh, grow up.” Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. “You’re not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know this isn’t an accident,” Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit. 

“You better watch yourself, agent.” Ransone snarled. “I don’t like being questioned.”

“Like I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellin’ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?”

“Yes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,” he drawled sarcastically. “Don’t you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. You’d be stupid to believe I’d let it go so easily by having you killed.”

His voice was ice by the end. Sam’s eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.

“Then what about me?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, instantly sounding softer. “I didn’t think he would show. That’s it.”

“You’ve never been unsure of anything.”

“Which is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Don’t care how.” It wasn’t what you were talking about, but it brought up something else. 

You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?

You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didn’t get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam broke the momentary pause.

“You don’t.” He paused. “Distrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.”

You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension. 

“Give me your location.” He couldn’t sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. “I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

Sam’s finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.

He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.

Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasn’t the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransone’s calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew that’s how they got to the mansion before you. 

“Forget it. We’ll figure it out,” you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.

“All right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.”

You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.

“What now?”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up. 

“Did you kill Pierce?”

“Christ, we still on this?” he scoffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“No,” he stared at you. “I didn’t.”

“Did Ransone send you to spy on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago. 

“No, I was there for a mission.”

“You got any proof?”

He rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honour.”

He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.

You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.

Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.

You had no idea why you were doing this. You didn’t even know the guy.

He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.

You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.

You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

__________

Sleep didn’t come that night, and predictably so.

Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didn’t catch even a bit of shut eye.

Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.

When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.

You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.

Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.

“C’mon man,” he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.

He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.

“Mornin’.” You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. “Get any sleep last night?”

You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding. 

“Did you?”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light.” He pushed himself off the counter.

“Really?” You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.

“Sounded like the reasonable thing to do.” He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldn’t murder him. Although you couldn’t judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had. 

“I'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, never said you were wrong.” He lifted his hands up. “But just to make sure; are you going to kill me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“And I’m not going to kill you. I’d say that’s enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.”

“Give me one good reason to believe you.”

“If you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. I’m one of the best he’s got.”

“Bullshit.” You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldn’t do that for anyone, and he knew that.

He didn’t bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.

The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most you’d seen together in a house ever.

The next cupboard was... empty.

“You have got to be fuckin’ with me,” you cursed under your breath. “Is there nothing else here?”

Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.

“There’s some soup on the top right, behind the bread.” His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. “I hope PB&J is your favourite, ‘cause that’s really all we got. I checked twice.”

“We won’t be here long anyway. It’s fine.” You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you weren’t getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.

Rummaging through it didn’t prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. That’s all. 

“Really made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. There’s only one local news channel, everything else is static,” Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.

“There’s a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while you’re at it, I can smell you from a mile away and it’s giving me a migraine.” You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. “Backyard’s all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, I’m sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.”

You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.

Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.

“Got it,” he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.

Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.

The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.

“That about covers it. Don’t think we’ll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.”

“I’ve had a better time at funerals than I’ll ever have in this shithole.”

________

“What do you mean they escaped?” Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. “Someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible.”

“They took the car and left.”

“They took the car and left,” they said mockingly in a high pitch. “I know that, you fucking imbecile. I’m asking how they were alive long enough to do it?”

“They teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,” the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.

“They shouldn’t have been there together. They shouldn’t have been sent together.”

No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.

“This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,” their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. “So then how did this fucking happen?”

“Boss, we’ll-”

“I want them dead.” They interrupted, casting silence in the room. “I don’t care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-” they brought their hand down harshly on the table. “-I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.

“Fucking idiots.” They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Part 3

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.2

"Oh my god!"  Your shriek nearly deafened the yaksha while your nails dug into his shoulder and back.  The wind whipped your hair into both of your faces, much to his dismay as he struggled to keep track of his footing.  "This is crazy! This is awesome!" Another leap and your heart dropped to your stomach in a fashion that sucked the breath out of your lungs.  "W-wait this is terrifying!  Xiao!  Slow down!"  

You asked for this yet have the audacity to panic?  Xiao tensed under the increasing grip around his body and made another leap.  Well, a 'leap' is a bit of an understatement; whether he was teleporting or zipping through the air, you couldn't tell--it happened so fast your mind couldn't keep up.  The two of you were nearing the top of Mount Tianheng, and with every 'jump' he took you'd look down to find another fifty or so feet added to the distance between you two and the ground.

Just as Xiao was beginning to think you wanted him to stop, an exasperated laugh left your lips.  "This is awesome!"

The yaksha clicked his tongue at the myriad of sounds you were making.  First you were screaming with excitement, then terror, then laughing, and now you're gasping?  Will you just make up your mind? Are you scared or not scared?  He couldn't keep up with your quick switches just as you couldn't keep up with his speed.

And then there was the fact that you asked him specifically to carry you up the mountain, not climb up with you or merely teleport to the top.  Was this the duty of a boy friend?  He didn't recall you ordering Aether to carry you at all during your travels.  Minus the time you had your leg clawed by that lawachurl, but that doesn't really count--

His feet lightly landed onto the grass at the top of the mountain and he stilled, stealing a glance at your profile.  "We're here."  Archons, your grip finally relaxed against his stinging skin.  He was expecting that classic dumbfounded look on your face, but you pulled away with the widest--and dumbest--grin once your feet lowered to the ground.

"That was amazing-!" You nearly lost your balance from the vertigo of travelling so quickly, but Xiao grabbed your arm before you could stumble over the edge of the cliff.  "Can we do that again?"

"You can't be serious," his eyes narrowed in disdain.  

"One hundred percent! Come on, please?"

Wha-What is this all of a sudden?!  Xiao averted his eyes the second your pleading ones took hold.  He let go of your arm as his gaze fell to the grass.  

You couldn't contain the gasp within your lips, "You're...blushing?"  You don't remember if it's happened before, but the very tips of his ears were pink and it was painfully obvious in the sunlight of late morning.  "Xiao, the Vigilant Yaksha, BLUSHING?!"

"I suggest you keep your quips to a minimum unless you--"

"I can't believe this is happening! What did I do to make you blush? You're ears are bright red!"  Your hands cupped the sides of your face as you freaked out.  He was so neutral when it came to emotion, but the past sixteen hours or so he's shown you more of his vulnerable side.  But the adeptus was visibly showing emotion! "This never happened before!"

"There's nothing timid about you, having the courage to mock me.  So fight me," he started to raise his glare from the ground.  "How long do you think your body will last against my blows?"

"Rex Lapis must've blessed me-!"  

In your excitement, you failed to remember that the ledge was right behind you.  One second you were laughing your ass off with a face as bright red as Xiao's, and the next you were flailing breathlessly in the air attempting to find solid ground.  Xiao's figure shrunk at the top of the cliff as you plummeted.  The shock rendered you unable to scream and instead you gasped for breath as the wind whistled in your ears.

Xiao lifted his gaze in time to watch you fall over, and he simply moved so that his gaze could still follow your shrinking figure.  "It's a wonder humans survived this long," he muttered with a slightly amused expression.  Does she not realize she has her wind glider?  He failed to notice the corner of his lips curling upward.  

He had no intention of letting you plummet to your death.  But after the stunt you just pulled on him, he figured it wouldn't hurt to tease you a bit too.  You were by no means anywhere near the ground or any other hazardous objects; his enhanced vision and depth perception confirmed it.  Why not let you fall a bit?  Maybe your wits would return to you and you'd actually remember the glider attached to your back.

Three...four...five...Xiao counted the seconds.  You were nearly half-way down the cliffside.  ...Six...She's not going to remember, is she?  Seven..."Tch." He prepared to jump.

I-I'm going to die!  You finally managed to inhale a reasonable amount of air, not daring to peek behind you at the ground that was closing in.  Your thoughts were racing with nothing but panic.  Think, think! Think of something! You wanted to smack yourself when you remembered who accompanied you.  He wouldn't just let you die like this, it was stupid of you to even forget that much!  You involuntarily reached for the cliffside where Xiao was now nothing but a miniscule dot in the distance.  

"Xiao!"

Warm arms wrapped themselves around you the instant his name fell from your lips, and the familiar sensation of teleporting enveloped you.  You spun around and hugged him as tightly as you could the second your feet touched the ground.  He didn't even tense up this time--

"You didn't remember your glider," he pointed out nonchalantly.  Almost teasingly.

"That's why you just stood there?!"  He grumbled something you couldn't hear and returned your embrace with his head buried at the crook of your neck.  His ears were still red.  Are you telling me this is how he acts when he's shy?!  

The two of you stayed in that position for awhile, never quite loosening your hold on the other as if to ensure they wouldn't float away like an anemo slime or a bloaty floaty.  A cool breeze slid across your skin--an intimate gesture Xiao wouldn't dare outright commit, much less think of.  And yet the wind entangled itself in your hair much like his hand would clasp around your nape.  It seemed to embody the long-lost gentleness of the yaksha.  It was subtle.  Soft.  An indirect display of affection.  Maybe it was just your imagination.

Just awhile longer, Xiao's heart yearned as he held you close until rational thought returned to power.  Your absence would sting more now that he's seen you, but that didn't take away from the fact that this visit allowed the sealing of your bond, and therefore saved you from a painful demise for the time being.  The last thing he wanted was for you to return to Childe, but maybe this is what would prevent his karma from touching you.  The farther you are from him, the safer you'd be.

But for right now, just awhile longer, he'll allow himself to drown in your warmth.

...................

"You seem more than eager to get back to work, Mezzetin," Childe teased as he led you through the halls of the palace.  The two of you had just returned to Snezhnaya, but the Tsaritsa had apparently no intentions of letting either of you rest after your long journey.  

"Don't mistake my happiness for the Lantern Rite as happiness for the Tsaritsa's operations.  I'm only cooperating to keep the peace in Teyvat."  

"So, when are you going to tell me what you and Xiao did?"

"Excuse me?  Since when is my private life any of your business?"

"I have the right to know since you so blatantly disobeyed my orders not to leave the harbor."  Childe grabbed the door handle and faced you.  "I expected more professionalism from you, but honestly, I'm not at all surprised," he baited with narrowed eyes.  "I could tell the Tsaritsa, you know."

Your heart seemed to skip a beat at the thought of facing her again.  Something about that nightmare you had when you were with Xiao ignited a vague fear of her that you didn't really have before.  You swallowed hard before jutting your chin up at the harbinger.  "Do it."

"Oh?"  Childe squinted as he towered over you.  

"Do it," you repeated.  "Who do you think she'll discipline more, since it was a certain harbinger's idea to bring me along and didn't properly watch me?"  Childe stared at you for a few silent seconds before twisting the door handle and entering Dottore's lab without another word.  Yeah, that's what I thought.

"GAHHHHH!"  A deafening, sickening cry of pain snapped you out of your gloating session.  It was much like the rest that you've heard; the test subjects of Dottore were often strangers to mercy.  But unlike the trials before, there were no piles of bodies lying in the middle of the arena.

"Did he just start for the day?"  You forcefully peeled your eyes away from the suffering man and kept them on Childe.  It would be unusual if he did; he started in the early morning hours, but you and Childe had arrived in mid-afternoon.  

"Dunno," he shrugged slightly.  

"Ah! Childe."  Dottore noticed your presences and gave a signature manic grin, his arms spreading wide.  "We have made a breakthrough!"

"This doesn't look like a breakthrough to me," you muttered loud enough for him to hear.  Anger flickered across the masked man's face before he reset his eyes on his fellow harbinger.

"This is the fifth subject of the day."  The man's cold stare eyed the suffering Fatui agent with something similar to a sadistic excitement.  "It appears your idea to bring that brat with you succeeded."

You didn't hear Dottore, intent on watching the Fatui agent closely.  He had finally stopped shrieking, and he pushed himself to his feet rather unsteadily while wiping the sweat away from his forehead.  He was healthy despite being drenched in sweat and breathing heavily while he recovered from the subsiding pain.  You let out a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding in.  You didn't have to watch another person die at your feet--

Wait a minute.  He wasn't dying.

A cool shiver crawled down your spine at the realization, and you flinched when a manic laugh escaped Dottore.  "That was the original serum at work.  How's that for a breakthrough, brat?"

"That's...impossible," you uttered with wide eyes.

"Thank your superior for making it possible."

Your attention slid to Childe, who didn't bother to look you in the eye.  His expression was unreadable, and it remained that way when he escorted you to your room in silence.  His presence couldn't feel more hostile in that moment.

"You...my bond...," you choked when the two of you were at the door of your room.  "You lied.  You used me! You used our bond for your own selfish purposes!  How could you?"

"Don't start this, Mezzetin," a weary sigh left him as he turned to you.  His allegedly guilty appearance only infuriated you.  

"Outside, now."

The second the two of you were outside the palace walls, you let yourself snap into a fit of rage.  Childe had barely started to turn around when an ice shard shot at his face, slicing across his cheek.  His blood splattered onto the snow, and he wiped at his face to examine his blood on his fingers.  "Mezzetin--"

"Don't 'Mezzetin' me!"  Hundreds more icicles shot at him in a flurry until he had no choice but to defend himself and summon his hydro blades to parry the blows.  "This was the last straw!  I'll kill you!"

"Then I'll be more than happy to give you a fight."  Despite his usual excitement when it came to battle, he was calm and collected, even so much as cold and distant.  He lacked the usual spark fighting always gave him.  His eyes were empty and lacking of enthusiasm.

"Tch."  Your vision glinted in the sunlight as the temperature surrounding you dropped below zero.  Snow whipped through the air to create a barricade that caged the two of you in a small arena.  The blizzard made the snowflakes like needles that could cut through skin if one got too close to the edge.  Your own powers seldom hurt you, but in your anger, a few rogue icicles cut across your forehead, arms, and your back.

At the pace you were going at, it was self-destructive.

Childe noted this as he parried your every attack despite his blades turning frozen solid now.  "Mezzetin!  Keep this up, and I won't hold back!"  His warning fell on deaf ears.

"What makes you think I want you to hold back?  I'm settling this here and NOW!"  The snow beneath his feet erupted, sending him spiraling out of the eye of the storm and into the blizzard's rage.  You summoned your polearm without hesitation and began to walk towards him.  

His arms were stuck to his blades, which were stuck in the ground.  He must've attempted to summon a new set and accidentally froze his limbs.  He watched you approach, hunched over to shield himself from the blizzard.

"You said visiting him would be good for me!"  Your screams were carried away by the wind.  "That you realized your own selfishness!  This was nothing but more manipulation, wasn't it? You're NOTHING but a lying monster!"  The wind grew harsher.  Your blade grew sharper once you were a few feet from him.

Cold eyes looked down upon the Tsaritsa's war dog.  What a pathetic site it was; an esteemed harbinger on his knees before you.  A harsh kick to his jaw dislodged his hands from the ice they were trapped in, and more blood was splattered onto the snow.

"That's it," a smile of satisfaction spread across Childe's lips, making your eyes narrow in disgust.  "You're finally showing potential."  He sat up with his back to you.  "If you constantly fight like this, I'd listen to you more carefully."

"Shut up--!"  Your lance stabbed at his figure, but in one fluid motion he swung around and deflected your blade with his hand.  A sudden burst of electricity sent you flying several feet backwards.  "Ngh!"

"But unfortunately for you, ojou-chan, you misinterpreted the entire situation."  Your clearing vision settled on the electro delusion that glinted at his hip.  His figure stood over you and a sharp, hot pain tore through your side.

"Gah!"  

"I have the right to discipline my subordinates as I see fit," he twisted his blade and dug it deeper into you, completely uncaring that you were squirming around and twitching from the electric shocks pulsing through your body.  "Listen closely, girlie, because I won't say it again."  You desperately clawed at his weapon, but he held it firmly in place and refused to remove it.  "You needn't tell me what you learned from Mr. Zhongli or your adeptus boyfriend.  I don't care for that information.

"My bringing you back to Liyue was truly for your own benefit, and it just so happens it was for the Tsaritsa's benefit as well.  Make no mistake Mezzetin, I am on your side when it comes to private life.  But when it comes to work and the Tsaritsa, my loyalty lies with Snezhnaya.

"I don't care if you don't believe me.  If you so badly want to escape the Tsaritsa's grasp, you have much to learn.  Patience, for starters."  He ripped his blade out of you.  "Don't take this too personally, ojou-chan.  I don't condone disorderly conduct from anyone under my supervision."

[bubblegumbeech]

What use is a Memory Compared to a Future?

Day 1 Dannymay: Memory

 He woke up slowly, feeling like an empty pool of water catching rain for the first time. His thoughts were short, tiny little things pittering and pattering around in his mind. His senses came back to him in fragments, the feeling of cold stone solid against him and surrounding his body entirely, an electric unrecognizable smell mixing with the faint scent of death and decay, then sound.

 “Pariah?” a voice said. It was a nice voice, low and deep with a touch of gravel. He liked listening to it.

 “By all means, you can stay in the sarcophagus, if you wish.”

 Was he in a sarcophagus? He cracked open one of his eyes. The other simply twitched and sent a twinge of pain across his face. It took a moment for the image before him to come into focus.

 When it did, what he saw was breathtaking.

 Ruby red eyes and smooth blue skin hidden under a deep purple cowl framing the most beautiful face he had ever seen. At least, he couldn’t imagine ever seeing a face quite as beautiful as this one. If features like this were common then he would probably greatly enjoy his existence surrounded by them.

 “Ah,” the beautiful stranger with the beautiful voice spoke, “you’re awake. I was beginning to worry.”

 The stranger’s voice was dry, and held a touch of familiarity that he filed away as important for later. It was likely that something was amiss, if the stranger knew him while      he     did not yet know himself.

 He wet his lips and tried to speak, his voice rough with disuse, “you needn’t lie.”

 It had been a lie, or at the very least, it had not been the full truth, that this stranger worried about him. It was likely a quip, a sarcastic comment meant to rile him, and Pariah felt it best to respond in kind. The last thing he would ever admit to was any kind of vulnerability, especially in front of something so seemingly perfect.

 His eyes caught on the scar that snaked its way through the stranger’s eye and along his cheek. It was the same eye that refused to open for him and he wondered if there was a connection. A history that was held out of his reach. And then he wondered exactly why he seemed to lack any memory or solid knowledge at all.

 The first step, of course, would be figuring out who he was. The next would be figuring out where he was, and then figuring out this stranger, and what relationship they might have had. Whether he needed to do something to drag this handsome stranger closer to him.

 The stranger scoffed, “I see you haven’t changed much, Pariah. Too much to expect you to believe someone might have anything resembling affection for you-“

 “Do you?” he asked, testing the name Pariah in his mind. It fit surprisingly well, clicked into place and was pleasant to hear spoken in the stranger’s deep voice.

 The stranger blinked. “Do I what?”

 Pariah stepped fully out of the sarcophagus and into the stranger’s space. “Harbor affection for me?”

 A flush spread over the stranger’s cheeks, a deep purple spilling like watercolor in the soft blue and creating a tantalizing contrast. “I hold no such thing!” he hissed, sharp fangs on display as he scowled.

 A shame. Pariah would have to make moves to change that somehow.

 He acknowledged the stranger’s discomfort and took a step back, taking the chance he had to observe in his surroundings.  It was a castle, large and mostly European. Upon further inspection, however, influences of ancient Egyptian tombs could be found in the details, and particularly the traps  . The deep red of the brick was at contrast with the slight green of the ambience around them- ectoplasm. As for where he was …

 His mind drew a blank. He could recognize the ambient ectoplasm for what it was, but could not name the location itself. How frustrating.

 “Pariah?” the stranger asked as he stepped away to more closely examine the castle’s structure.

 Pariah turned his attention back towards him, taking in the stranger’s appearance once more. Beyond the beauty and piercing red eyes, he had a clock embedded into his chest, and his legs dissolved into a wispy tail, his cloak floating gently behind him. A ghost. He was a ghost.

 From the soft thrum of the core in his chest, and the lack of any beating heart or need for air, Pariah was likely to be a ghost as well. Objectively it made sense, and when Pariah attempted to stop and think about it, there was little else he could have been.

 He wondered, if he should ask a question, would the stranger answer? Would it be best if he attempted to hide his lack of familiarity? Would admitting it plainly be equivalent to holding out a dagger with which he may be attacked? But how much could he discover without fully tipping his hand?

 The sarcophagus… Clearly he’d been sealed away in it somehow, and possibly for some time. Pariah tilted his head before turning to his companion and asking, “How long?”

 Best to keep it vague, bank on assumptions made.

 He watched as the stranger’s expression twisted, just slightly. Enough for Pariah to read the guilt, the discomfort, and he found himself wondering exactly who this was, floating in front of him almost close enough to touch but far enough to flee.

 “Longer than I can justify,” he finally answered. “In all honesty I’m surprised your core is so intact. I would have expected some kind of damage, locked away as you were.”

 Damage, yes, that was certainly likely. He turned away. Would the stranger follow if he left?

 There was really only one way to test it. He started walking towards the entrance of the castle, looking around and taking in everything he could, each puzzle piece and missing bit of knowledge. Something clicked into place. He recognized the structure, could describe the ambient ectoplasm outside the windows, and he could feel his age. He knew there was a history here that he had once been privy to. A history that was lost to him now.

 Being that he was a ghost now, it was likely that at one point he had been alive. That was how ghosts worked, right? Then again, it seemed unlikely that his companion had ever been constrained to something as fickle as mortality.

 His companion had followed him, at a distance and clearly uncomfortable with his actions, but following nonetheless. It settled something inside Pariah, a hum of affirmation in his core. Now if only he could find a way to discover his name, or at the very least a moniker by which to call him.

 “No more questions, Pariah?” Suspicion laced his words, and Pariah glanced back at him, not bothering to stop. There was too much he didn’t know, too much he could give away. “I didn’t take you for the silent treatment type.”

 “Everyone experiences things that might change them,” he offered accusation, interested in whether the barbs he planted would pierce.

 His companion flinched, small, almost imperceptible. An admittance of guilt, something that Pariah should probably hold against him. It was entirely possible that the one who released him from his sleep had been the one to force him into it in the first place.

 Was his loss of memories intended, then? Or merely a side effect? Was he refusing to admit something already well known, or keeping his companion in suspense? What an interesting dance they were in, a tug of war where Pariah had no rope to spare and no reason to admit it.

 “You seem more subdued. Seeing my face when you first awoke, I expected for you to fly into one of your rages,” his companion said, offering an accusation of his own right back.

 Strange though, flying into a rage didn’t sound like him. It seemed too sudden a thing for Pariah, a quick burst of uncontrolled emotion. Was that something he should expect from himself? He’d have thought himself in more control than that.

 But he need neither admit nor deny anything here and now, so instead he switched tracks entirely, turned towards his companion and said, “Why would I awake in a rage, when the first thing I see is as beautiful as you?”

 The other ghost sputtered, the same colorful blush splashing across his cheeks, and Pariah longed to follow it beyond where the hood hid it away. He wanted to uncover him and see his ethereal companion in his entirety, every feature unobscured and available for Pariah to peruse at his heart’s leasure. He desired to trace his fingers along every feature, to catalog them properly so that he might not forget them again, no matter how pleasant the discovery.

 “Is this some ploy to win me back into your arms?” his companion said. The ambient ectoplasm swirled around them, drenched in his emotions. Twisted, complicated things painted in thick layers of history and intimacy that Pariah was a stranger to. “Did you forget I betrayed you? That we saw your fall, orchestrated it twice over? Do you think perhaps I might trust you, when I have no reason to expect anything but bitterness and resentment from you?”

 “So you’re saying I’ve succeeded before?”

 There was a pause, a moment in time where nothing moved, and his companion stared at him, incredulous. Pariah dared not move himself. As skittish as the other ghost was, there was no reason to risk scaring him off so soon. Especially when Pariah had only just now admitted to lacking the history his companion was so clearly drowning in.

 “You don’t… remember?” he asked, his voice soft. Pariah tilted his head, an admittance in itself, and watched as a kaleidoscope of emotions seemed to play upon the other. It was fascinating, to watch the scowl melt away and be so easily replaced with increasingly more complicated emotions. Hope, anxiety, distrust.

 It was intoxicating.

 Pariah had him before, in his previous life, and lost him. He’d have to be sure, this time, not to let go.

 “...Your name.” It could have been a question, or a statement. Pariah answered either way, easily offering the name he had inferred. Judging by the way his companion’s face crumpled though, he hadn’t been entirely correct. “It’s Pariah Dark.”

 Ah, yes that sounded more complete. A full name for what was once a complete identity, not the tattered shreds held together that Pariah was now. He nodded and his companion nodded back, guilt quickly overtaking his features.

 Well that wouldn’t do. Out of all the expressions he’d seen so far that was certainly the least attractive. The coy smirk from earlier, or the flustered blush, those suited him better by far. Pariah stepped closer and spoke softly, “I’d rather know yours, I think, so that I needn’t call you handsome stranger in my head.”

 The blush came back easily and Pariah smiled, reaching a hand to tug away the damned hood blocking his view. A gloved hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him, and Pariah stilled at the contact. He purred, touch starved in his long captivity, and the other ghost looked up, caught, his eyes wide and startled.

 Pariah lifted a brow, his question unanswered, and his companion released his arm and backed away, out of reach. He didn’t let the disappointment show, simply followed with his eyes. They tracked every movement, every shift of his shoulders, the ticking of his clocks. It was some time before he was able to answer at all.

 “Clockwork. My name is Clockwork.” He frowned, clearly hurt but unwilling to show it. “Are you telling me you don’t know who I am?”

 That wasn’t accurate, Pariah mused, it wasn’t so much that he did not know who Clockwork was, but rather that Pariah could not remember him.

 “I know who you are,” he argued. That was, if anything, what he knew most assuredly. It was there, etched into Pariah’s core and written plain as day upon Clockwork’s features.

 “Oh?”

 “You’re mine.”

[blackmissfrizzle]

Skin

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary:Angel gets to see your dancing skills.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Inspired by a conversation with @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​. Also a special dedication to @starrynite7114​

I strongly suggest listening to Rihanna’s Skin while reading.

Coco was dragging the Mayans to a dance studio. The girl he was seeing at the time invited him to see her routine. “I don’t understand why we don’t just go to a strip club.” Gilly complained as they made their way through the parking lot. “This is free, man! They may not be naked, but you might get a lap dance. Now stop complaining!” Coco stomped out his cigarette and put some pep in his step.

Trish and her group just finished performing their rendition and now it was your group’s turn. “Oh, there he is!” Crystal whispered excitedly to you. Turning around you saw Coco waving at Crystal with the rest of the Mayans behind him.

Immediately, you started freaking out. None of them could see you like this. Especially, your best friend Angel. They all thought you were an innocent schoolteacher, not some dancing vixen.

You went out to seek reprieve from your other best friend and dance instructor, but she was already shaking her head no. “C’mon Nic, please! You perform with the group!”

“Nope! This is kismet. The forces at be wants you and Angel to bang and who am I to deny them?” Before you could stop her, she began to introduce you and your group. “Anddd, we have a special little treat,” Nikki stood behind you and clipped the microphone to the bottoms under your sweatpants. “Miss. Y/N here will be singing as well as dancing.”

Angel quirked an eyebrow at you saying, “Really?” In return you gave him a small smile and shrugged.

As the best starts, the dance studio dims to a blueish purple color, setting the mood that you’re singing about. The further along the song played, the more you got into it and stopped worrying about what Angel would think. Usually, you would find an unsuspecting target to sing and dance to, but instinctively you zeroed in on Angel. Tonight, he was gonna be the object of your desire.

I got a secret that I wanna show you, oh

I got a secret so, I'mma drop em to the floor, oh

You teased as if you were gonna strip out of your sweats and when you didn’t you swore you heard Angel say ‘fuck’. His eyes got fiery and you knew you had him under your spell, so you gave him a sly little smile. Angel raised another eyebrow saying, ‘You better quit while you’re ahead’, but did you listen? Hell no!

Go deep, I'mma throw it at you Can you catch it? Don't hold back You know I like it rough

You hit the squat, tugged on your own hair and bit your lip. “Oh shit!” Coco was there for Crystal, but he couldn’t help but be entranced by you. Angel hit him in his stomach when he caught him lurking at you too long for his tastes. “Look at your own fucking girl.”

“Hate to break it to you mano, but everyone’s staring at your girl.” Angel looked around and Coco was right. His brothers were getting their eyeful of you, even his baby brother. “Really, Ezekiel?”

“Sorry man. It’s like she’s a fucking siren.” They were so consumed with arguing within themselves they didn’t notice that you were slowly strutting towards Angel.

So why you standin' over there witcha clothes on?

Baby, strip down for me, go on, take 'em off

Don't worry, baby, I'mma meet you halfway

'Cause I know you wanna see me

Angel held his breath as he watched your body move towards him. He always knew you had a banging body, but the way you moved confirmed it. His eyes followed every little move you made.

Almost there (ha, ha)

So baby don't stop what you're doing (Uh-huh, ah)

Softer than a mutha, boy, I know you wanna touch

Breathing down my neck, I can tell you wanna (No-o-ow)

Finally, you were close to Angel. You had sung into his ear as you slid your hand down his chest to his sizable crotch. “Querida, you’re playing a dangerous fucking game. You better be sure you can handle the consequences.” Oh, he was really pissed, but not as pissed as he was about to be.

I got a secret that I wanna show you, oh

I got a secret so, I'mma drop em to the floor, oh

Unlike the other time, you weren’t a tease and took off your sweats and over shirt, revealing solid black bikini bottoms covered in fishnet shorts with a black bikini top to match.

No heels, no shirt, no skirt, all I'm in is just skin

No jeans, take 'em off, wanna feel your skin

You a beast, oh, you know that I like that skin

Come here baby, all I wanna see you in is just skin

O-o-oh, oh, oh, oh your skin

O-o-oh, oh, oh, oh just skin

O-o-oh, oh, oh, oh, I'm lovin' your skin

Oh, oh

The male dancers joined in and it was practically dry humping to Angel. The chemistry between you and your partner had him seething. To Angel it seemed that if your dance partner could, he would’ve fucked you right then and there. “Imma kill him,” Angel muttered to himself.

“Calm down, playboy. Look,” EZ pointed out to you walking towards him again.

All I wanna see you in is just skin

All I wanna see you in is just skin

Oooh

All I wanna see you in

All I wanna see you in is your skin, oh

You circled around Angel as if he was your prey, but in reality, you were his. He’d have to show you as soon as this song was over. His eyes followed you as you circled him. He wasn’t missing one second of this. As you surrounded him you took off his kutte and put it on yourself. Angel knew he was gonna fuck you once he saw you started dancing, but when you put his kutte on he knew he was gonna fuck you while you wear that and nothing else.

The song continued to slow down, and you slid your back against Angel’s front as if he were a human pole. “Y/N,” he growled, warning you, but you weren’t listening.

You were no longer singing, but the instrumental kept playing. The outro was freestyle, so you let the music flow through you and did whatever came to you naturally. And naturally you wanted to tease Angel. Since you near the ground, you slid down to your chest to arch your back. To go a bit further, you slid your hand under your body to grab your clothed pussy.

You couldn’t see, but you could hear the little commotion of the Mayans behind you. It sounded like Angel was ready to snatch you right off the floor and the others had to stop him.

Rolling over your head, you hit the splits which earned you cheers from the other dancers. Looking over your shoulder at Angel while biting your lip, you bounced up and down. He tilted his head at you and clenched his fists. You could tell he was hanging on by a thread, but you just weren’t through with him yet.

Crystal and you got together and began grinding on one another until you got into a squat, twerking on one another. But this time your eyes were on Coco. When Angel saw he wasn’t in your eyesight, he moved to stand in front of Coco. “Angel, move! I can’t help it if Y/N wants to look at a real man,” he teased. “Man, fuck you!”

You could see that Angel could possibly start wrestling Coco, so you removed yourself from Crystal and started popping one butt cheek at a time. That kept Angel’s attention until the song was over.

Everyone applauded your group. Yahir, your dance partner came and gave you a hug. “Damn, Y/N you did the damn thing!”

“Thanks! You weren’t too bad,” you joked, nudging his shoulder. Your conversation didn’t last too long because Angel with your duffel came and interrupted it. He kissed the side of your forehead and whispered into your hair only low enough for you to hear. “Tell your friend goodbye before I beat his fucking ass.”

“But I want to see everyone else dance.”

“Nah, we got some business to handle, querida.”

Yahir stretched his hand across your body to shake Angel’s hand. “You must be Angel. Y/N talks about you all the time.” Angel gave him a weak shake. “Yeah, I’m sure she does. Anyway, we gotta go.” Angel didn’t even attempt to say bye, he just drugged you to the door.

“Bye, Y/N!” Coco told you as you walked pass him and Crystal. “Bye Johnny,” you sung, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Angel tugged you even harder, making his brothers laugh at him. “Go straight home, no pit stops. Understand me?”

“Yes Angel.” You snatched your keys out of his hands. “Want your kutte back?”

“Nah,” he pressed his hands on your shoulders. “I like you in it.”

Angel kept close to you, not letting a car come in between you two as he followed behind. He even got off his bike before you were able to turn off your car. It was like he was glued to you. He was so damn close to you as you unlocked the door that you could feel his hardon.

When you finally entered your house, Angel threw your things to the side, lifted you in his arms and carried you to your room. “Yo ass like showing out, huh?”

“Angel, what are you talking about? Matter of fact put me down. Best friends don’t act like this.” You tried to wiggle your way down, but Angel held you tighter right on his erection. “Best friends also don’t grab their pussy in front of each other while singing about fucking. But I ain’t trying to be your best friend.”

“Then what are you trying to be, Angelito?”

“Your man.” His lips hovered over yours. “Hmm, I don’t know if I want that. I know Crystal doesn’t mind sharing, so there would be no problem for me getting at Coco.”

Angel threw you on the bed and ripped your fishnet shorts and bikini bottoms. His tongue surrounded your clit. He suckled on it like he was eating a peach. “Angel!” You wrapped your hands in his ebony hair, pulling on it when he wouldn’t give you release.

He lifted his head and licked his lips. “It ain’t nice to tease, is it?”

“No,” you cried out. “Then who’s pussy is this?”

You should’ve just let it go and comply, but your whole friendship with Angel was built on teasing and you weren’t about to stop it now. “Mm, I’m still stuck between Coco and Yahir. Maybe I’m leaning more towards Yahir. Did you see how he practically pounded my pus-”

Angel caught you off with his dick. Now you were a mumbling mess. “Huh, what was that mami?” He cupped his ear, pinning you down with his other hand. Still no words could be formed. Never in your life have you had the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. Angel was stretching you out in all the the right ways. “Angel, please. Move.” You were gripping onto his wrist from how intense he felt.

“Nah, not until you tell me who this sweet pussy belongs to.” It was killing Angel not to move, but he knew he had to wait you out. “Shit, Angel you! You own this pussy, my body, my heart!”

A lone tear fell down Angel’s cheek. “I love you, Y/N. Always have. Let me show you.” Angel began moving, giving you slow, deep powerful strokes.

Cupping his face, you leaned up to kiss him. “I love you, Angel.”

Your proclamation drove Angel crazy. It was the words he’s been waiting years to hear. He tore his kutte and your top off your body and flipped you over on your knees. “Give me that arch that you were throwing in my face earlier,” Angel ordered with a smack to your ass.

A thrill ran through you, but you were a little upset that he took his kutte off you. “I thought you wanted to fuck me with your kutte on.” You looked behind you and shook your ass a little.

Angel kissed you down your spine, making you shiver with each one. “We got time for that later. Right now I need to feel your skin against mines.” Angel slid right in, causing you and Angel to spill out a harmonious, “Fuck.”

This time Angel fucked you faster, but still hitting you deep. “Look at my dirty little puta creaming all over my cock.”

“Angel,” you whined, reaching behind you, trying to push him away. It was too much. He was too much. The pleasure, the ecstasy was overcoming you.

Angel grabbed both of your wrists and held them with one of his hands. “Nah, take this dick. Keep that same energy you had earlier.”

He was brutal with how good he was making your body feel. Every time he felt you lose a bit of your arch, Angel would pull out of you until it was just like he liked it. “Don’t be getting lazy on me now.”

“Please, daddy! Let me cum!” You begged on the verge of tears. “Only because you asked nicely.” Angel let go of your wrists and snaked his hand under you to rub on your clit. The added pressure had you falling apart, screaming Angel’s name.

“Shit, querida, I’m cumming.” Angel pulled out of you, jerking himself off until his seed coated your back. He got all primal and possessive when he saw you covered in his cum. You felt Angel fingers dip into his cum on your back. “Angel, what are you doing?” You asked tiredly. “Just making you mines.” He snapped a picture of his work and showed it to you.

With all the energy you could muster up you turned towards him and rolled your eyes. “Really, Angel? AIR?”

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “There wasn’t enough for Angel Ignacio Reyes.” Throwing a pillow at him, you hit him in the face. “I hate you!”

“I love you, too,” he chuckled, pulling you both to lay down and get some rest before round 2.

Tags: @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @starrynite7114​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @bigsisbria​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @sadeyesgf​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @angelreyesgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​ @thickemadame​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @angrythingstarlight​ @imanerdychubbyqueen​

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 47

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You try to adjust to your new life, but it doesn't go well.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, mild body horror

AO3

Bucky pulled you into his arms, and that’s where you stayed for the next several days. He only released you for bathroom breaks, and the first night when he tried to get you to sleep in his bed while he took the couch.

After he woke up to you crawling under his blanket to lie on top of him, Bucky gave up on trying to separate during sleep. You were thankful for that, because the night times were the worst. You held Bucky tight, that bone-deep fear of freezing in the night never quite going away even with your new fur.

Your features did not look any less jarring when you looked at them through the mirror rather than a flowing stream. You were less disturbing than a character in Cats, but only because you looked meaner. With sharp needle teeth and retractable claws, you were so careful of them around Bucky, even with his healing abilities. The bite you’d given him had already vanished, but your guilt was still very much present.

On good days, you could tolerate visitors. It was usually Wong who came, though sometimes it would be other wizards you didn’t recognize. They examined you only enough to determine that your time in the demon realm wasn’t going to kill you, as far as they could tell, but they had no idea if your demonic changes were permanent or temporary.

On good days, you would sit in one of the clock faces and soak up the sun, looking out at the sun-covered city and marveling at the lights at night.

On good days, Bucky was able to touch you. Everything about your body made you self-conscious and twitchy, but he was gentle and kind. Never angry or frustrated at your slow progress. He, above everyone else, understood how much patience was needed while you recovered from your time in the demon realm, not to mention the new changes to your body.

Bad days… Bad days were hard. They involved hiding, usually under the bed or up in the top floor among the rafters. Bucky was worried you’d fall, but once he saw how swift and graceful you were running along the beams, he stopped looking like he was on the verge of a heart attack.

On bad days, Bucky couldn’t touch you at all, and it was a blessing he didn’t have to. The bond was permanently disconnected, and you no longer had to be feed him or be fed upon. Bucky still had to obtain the energy that kept the demon part of him alive, but he supplemented with the potions the wizards gave him. You could smell the foul concoction even from across the loft, and it set your fur puffed up and on edge.

On bad days, you couldn’t tolerate Steve being anywhere in the loft. He’d come to visit after his recovery, and you were relieved to know there was no permanent damage from the Winter Soldier’s brutality. But when the demon side of you reared its head around Steve, he couldn’t stay. That part of you saw him as a threat, as competition, the prize being Bucky himself. It made you feel sick for hours afterwards, but Bucky was always patient and understanding.

On those days, the bad ones, the part of you that wasn’t entirely human had a stronger hold than the rest of you, and it treated everyone but Bucky like a hostile enemy. Those days were the worst, for both of you. Bucky couldn’t get close enough to offer you any comfort, and you couldn’t ask for it. You missed him so much it physically hurt, but when he approached, your body acted on instincts you didn’t understand, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running and hiding.

On a good day when you could be approached, Strange and Wong visited to conduct a round of new tests. Unlike the previous ones where nothing of interest had happened, it seemed that every instrument that touched you now either lit up like Times Square, or it simply exploded in their hands.

So much for being a magical dead battery.

Strange explained your “condition” and you tried to focus as best you could, still unable to talk and ask questions, even though you could technically write them down. Bucky asked plenty, keeping an eye on you in case you reacted unpredictably as you sometimes did. You were still a little too feral for Bucky to leave alone for long, a fact that was deeply shameful but you couldn’t do anything about. You prayed this wasn’t your new normal.

According to Strange, you were actually very gifted with magic, and all his previous tests had been wrong. Something to do with you suppressing your magic in your childhood—you didn’t really understand most of what he said—but he did know why you looked the way you did. In order to survive the harsh conditions of the demon realm, you’d absorbed some of the natural energy of the planet in order to “adapt.” Essentially, you’d become a pseudo-demon.

Strange was unsure if the changes were permanent, because this type of magic was incredibly advanced and should have been well beyond what a novice like you could achieve.

Bucky was handling the news better than you were, even though you becoming a demon had to be his worst nightmare. So when he looked at you as if he was scared you might break or vanish, you ignored the wizards in the room and melded yourself to Bucky’s side.

He didn’t move for a moment, but before you could pull away, Bucky put a hand around your shoulders and petted your hair. You sighed and melted into him further. He was as warm and solid as he always was, his earthy scent creating a familiar tingle in your stomach—

“Ahem.”

You looked up, blinking, having forgotten all about the wizards. Wong was giving you a frown that reminded you of a scolding schoolteacher, while Strange was trying to suppress an amused look.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Strange said as he stood from the couch. Wong followed him to the middle of the room where there was enough room to create a portal back to the Sanctum.

Strange’s innuendo was wasted; as soon as the wizards departed, that glimpse of your old self vanished, and you were back to hiding under the bed. You heard Bucky’s heavy sigh, but he didn’t say anything. He never did. He simply waited with saintly patience for you to eventually come out.

It didn’t hit you, how hard all of this was for him, until later that night.

You’d just woken from a nap to find the lights left off, the room dark and the snowy city glittering outside the clock face windows. You crawled out from under the bed and glanced around, ears perked when you couldn’t find Bucky in his usual spots. He wasn’t in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or in his study.

You craned your head back to look at the staircase spiraling around the elevator shaft, leading to the empty belfry. It was the last place to look.

Walking on your hands and feet, crouched over like an animal, you ascended the staircase on near-silent footsteps. The temperature dropped with each twist of the stairs, and you shivered despite your fur, still getting used to the late winter chill.

Pausing on the staircase, you peeked your head above the landing and froze at the sight of the bent figure. Wings draped along his back, his tail curled around his feet, Bucky sat on his haunches while staring at something in his hands.

It took you a minute to place the object, and when you remembered, it hit you like a train.

Bucky was holding an old, scruffy, stripped grey tabby. The animus. The thing that had bound you to him, and the last time he’d held it in his hands you’d nearly gone out of your mind with desire.

And now you felt… no different than you had before. The bond was gone, and the toy was just a toy.

Your ears folded back, your chest aching so deeply you could hardly breathe. Bucky didn’t appear any happier. Moonlight poured in front the old windows above his head, painting a lonely, melancholy picture.

Bucky pulled the toy against his chest, shoulders slumping forward, and he took a shaking breath. You froze, listening intently, and crushing guilt washed over you when his breathing hitched again.

Bucky was silently crying.

Your descent down the stairs would have felt like fleeing if you hadn’t been completely numb with horror. You had done this to Bucky. You’d driven him to hide his pain, only releasing it when he thought you wouldn’t know.

Tail between your legs, literally and mentally, you crawled into the bathroom and shut the door. Hesitating, you turned on the lights and rose to your feet to unwillingly look in the mirror. You’d tried to avoid it as much as you could, only catching glimpses in the window and reflective surfaces.

You looked the same as you had in the demon realm. Grey-blue fur, cat-like ears and tail, curled horns, and slitted eyes. Only now did you realize something so ridiculously obvious: you looked a lot like Monster.

You shut your eyes and tried to push the thought of your hobgoblin out of your mind. No one could find him, not at your apartment and not at the Sanctum, and you couldn’t bear the thought you’d never see him again. Strange critter or not, he was family, and you couldn’t imagine losing him on top of everything else.

Gazing back at your reflection, tail twitching behind you, you concentrated. You had no idea what you were doing and that was obvious when after several minutes, nothing happened. You gripped the sink, nails scratching against the metal as you tried harder. You were not going to live out the rest of your life as a goddamn animal.

Try as you might, nothing continued to happen, and you sagged against the sink in defeat. You couldn’t live like this, half-wild and unpredictable. Bucky was a patient as he could be, and it occurred to you he would continue to try to help you no matter the cost to himself. That’s just how he was, selfless to the point of self-destructive.

That, more than anything, got you moving. Thinking of Bucky and what Strange had told you earlier that day, you came up with an idea. It was asking too much of Bucky, but if it worked, maybe he’d be able to forgive you.

Bucky found you sitting cross-legged on the bed when he came down the stairs. His brows rose, clearly not expecting you to be waiting for him, and his gaze dropped to the notepad and marker in your hands. On good days, you could communicate with writing. In a twist of irony, it was the same pad and marker you’d used to talk to him when the heigore had torn up your vocal cords and the sorcerers had silenced you to recover.

As soon as he appeared on the staircase you started scribbling, and as he approached, you scooted over and patted the covers next to you. When Bucky sat, a couple feet from you with careful movements, you held up the pad. He read it.

“You need… a favor from me?”

You nodded, wrote again, and underlined it twice.

“A big favor.”

You nodded again, sharp nails curling around the pad as you tried to quell your nerves.

“Okay.” He eyed you carefully. “What kind of favor?”

You couldn’t blame Bucky for his cautiousness. Besides communicating the bare minimum to him, this was the first time you’d held any kind of conversation since he’d rescued you from a very literal Hell. Guilt continued to twist up your insides, but you pressed onward.

The next words you wrote took far longer than it should have, considering there were only two. You stared at them for a moment, your fur slowly puffing up. Bucky was watching, his expression growing more concerned by the second.

“Hey, you can tell me, whatever it is,” Bucky said. He moved a little closer, and you flinched. His expression was immediately regretful, but it wasn’t what he thought at all.

Before you lost your nerve, you held up the pad and quickly looked away.

Bucky didn’t repeat the words you’d scrawled on the paper. Instead, he gave out a croaked, “What?”

You pulled back the pad and stared down at the words you’d written.

Fuck me.

Next Chapter

[getlitaesthetic]

I'm just trying think about how would the cannon brothers react to their dark selves and how they treat mc compared to how they treat mc

Oooh this is a fascinating one. First things first, the dark!brothers would kick the canon!brother’s asses 1000x over so jot that down 😝 Anyways this turned into a whole fic...

To save you from the scrolling, the rest is under the cut!

THE BEGINNING:

“I’m so glad you could all make it. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather share this with,” Diavolo told the brothers. The Avatars looked... well, confused was a good way to put it. MC was safely at Purgatory Hall, laying on Solomon’s bed and pretending to study as the RAD student Council met for what was bound to be an entertaining meeting. In front of them was very clearly a standing mirror, large enough for one person to see their whole reflection, covered with a tarp. 

“Huh? A stupid mirror?” Mammon complained, only to be met with a sharp slap to the back of the head from Lucifer, who stood stoically, pretending this all made perfect sense. Or, it would make perfect sense. Diavolo was going to make it make sense, wasn’t he? The future Demon King was practically bouncing on his toes.

“Yes! This is a very special mirror, a gift from Father. It’s meant to show you what you’re doing in an alternate universe. I thought you’d all like a chance to see what your alternate selves are doing! Considering Barbatos is usually the only one who can see these things.” 

That was all the brothers needed to hear. Immediately fights broke out, Levi pulling Asmo’s hair as he squealed about how long it had taken him to perfect, all battling to be first in line.

“ENOUGH,” Lucifer commanded sharply, eyes bright as he shifted to his demon form, black wings spreading. The room quieted. “We’ll go in order of age.”

“Of course we will,” Mammon scoffed, “You’re always first, why don’t I try bein’ the oldest brother this time, huh?”

“MAAMMMMOONNN!” At the sound of Lucifer’s rage, the second born snapped his mouth shut, rubbing the back of his neck as he backed up. 

“Or second. Second is good too.”

Diavolo was still grinning as he pulled the tarp from the mirror, revealing what looked like, well, a mirror. Granted, a very nice mirror, with lovely gilded edges, the gold bright and shining, despite the apparent age of the piece.

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride was the first to step up in front of the mirror, and his body filled the space. No matter how his brothers tried, they could not get a glimpse into the glass around him. He blinked, letting out a slow breath, as the surface of the mirror began to ripple and distort, like a drop of water hitting a pond. He reached out, fingers grazing the glass, but it remained solid under his touch. Lucifer’s expression darkened slightly, a frown playing across his lips, until the image in the mirror began to change.

Suddenly, he was looking upon... What had to be the Devildom, but unlike he had ever known it. The sky remained in endless night, but everything else was deeply unfamiliar in a way that unsettled the eldest. There were no sweetly cobbled streets lined with restaurants and shops. In this mirror world, everything burned. The ground was scorched, and everything that managed to grow was in shades of brown, black, orange, as if they were trying to hide their life in the sea of destruction.

A figure appeared. Lucifer didn’t immediately recognize it as himself, but he understood it must have been. The creature in the mirror was snarling, his eyes gleaming red, as shredded and scarred wings drug brokenly behind him. There was a leash on his wrist, with something heavy pulling it down to the-- oh. Oh. MC. They trembled so brokenly, desperately trying to climb to their feet, but unable to keep up with the demon’s long strides, falling and being pulled across the dirt once again.

“No,” Lucifer breathed, pressing his palm to the glass as his teeth grit. “No, I wouldn’t.” But there it was, in crystal clear picture. His own demonic form, massive and still glowing with leftover Heavenly light, grabbing MC by the collar as he finally lost patience. The dark form grinned wide, revealing his fangs, dripping with something that steamed when it hit the ground.

“Now, now, MC,” the mirror Lucifer crooned. “You know what happens if you can’t keep up, don’t you?” MC flinched, nodding as they straightened carefully, fixing their hair and plastering a calm smile on their lips. They couldn’t hide the terror in their eyes, though. No, that was readily apparent. “Better,” he cupped the human’s cheek, claws stabbing into their face, leaving five brilliant dots of blood where he had pierced them.

“Now say thank you for taking you out on such a lovely date.”

Lucifer held back the retch he felt in the back of his throat, and he closed his eyes, turning away from the mirror. “I’ve seen enough,” he stepped away, refusing to look back at what was once again simply a mirror.

Mammon

“Eh? What’s the big deal?” He moved up, looking towards his older brother with concern, but Lucifer didn’t seem keen to speak on his experience. With a half-hearted shrug, he turned to the mirror, which once again opened itself to reveal the universe that lay on the other side. There the other Mammon stood, dressed in expensive brand names, stacks of money on the table beside him. He tapped sharpened nails on the table.

“Hey, hey, hey! Alright!” The poor version was plenty excited to see that he wasn’t broke in every universe. Meanwhile, his rich counterpart grunted unhappily. “Bring in MC,” he nodded to a weaker demon that stood by the door, who tipped his head and bowed out. A long moment passed, as Mammon leaned forward, eager to see what his crush looked like in the alternate world.

The first thing he noticed when they entered was the massive wedding ring on their finger. He didn’t even glance at the stitches that held the finger on. The low level demon had a white-fingered grip on their arm, leading them to the chair beside the mob boss, who quickly pulled them into his lap.

The watching Avatar of Greed couldn’t help how his heart stuttered knowing that they were married in this other world. He was so distracted by the piles of money and expensive objects and lovely MC that he didn’t notice all the scars, all the bruising, the obvious tension in the room. But the dark Mammon did. He raised his hand, clocking MC across the face. 

“Wha-!” Just as Mammon’s eyes widened in shock, he was shoved out of view of the mirror, as the scuffle between Levi and Asmo returned. He whipped his head around to look again, to confirm what he had just seen, as greed and dread in equal parts pooled in his stomach, but the mirror was blank.

Leviathan

Levi stumbled as Asmo huffed, returning to his spot in line, taking out his compact to touch up his makeup. The otaku hesitated, wringing his hands before glancing at the mirror. When the surface began to shift, he gasped in excitement, his nervousness forgotten. “Woahh!” Suddenly the glass had his full attention. “It’s just like the remastered Episode 411 of ‘Help! My Cat Wandered Off And When I Went To Find Him, I Stumbled Into An Interdimensional Flower Shop And Now I’m In Charge Of Protecting the Portal Between Universes’!”

At first, nothing was strange. It was a picture of his own bedroom... albeit, different than he remembered. The fish were off. Larger, and meaner. His prized collection of anime items had been replaced with a large array of weapons, and photos of him standing by the sea in front of what looked like an army. Everyone in uniform. Strangely though, all of his games were still there. His mouth was hanging open as his alter finally walked into frame. Actually, paced may have been more fitting for what the mirror Levi was doing. Yes, pacing back and forth, holding onto a long rope, that followed above the fish tank. 

The mirror adjusted the frame, revealing the full image. MC, tied tightly, hanging above the water as the demonic fish circled below.

“So?” His alter questioned. “What do you say, MC? Will you make me the happiest demon in the Devildom?” The Levi in the mirror... he didn’t look right. His features were sharper, his tail longer, stronger, but it was more than his appearance. He was more confident in that world, no fear of being rejected. “That wasn’t a yes...” MC tried to scream through the gag as they were dropped a few inches towards the water.

Levi jumped in shock. “Not MC!” His eyes were wide, blush dark on his cheeks. “That’s-- That’s just wrong! That’s not how it’s supposed to happen!” He buried his face in his hands, unable to look any longer, and when he finally peeked again, the image was gone.

Satan

Satan didn’t have the patience for this nonsense. He had books to read, and Levi was just standing there hiding his face? The fourth born sighed, rubbing his temples as he gently guided his brother away from the mirror. “Let’s get this over with, I’m busy tonight.” He squared himself in front of the mirror, looking his reflection directly in the eyes. Satan was used to magical objects, and he didn’t flinch when the surface turned to liquid, instead steeling himself for what he was about to see. From the reactions of the others, it was not likely to be pleasant.

The dark Satan didn’t look so different, really. Honestly, he was probably better looking, although he was loathe to admit it. In the image, things seemed normal, calm even. This other Satan was in an armchair, MC settled in his lap as he read a book aloud to them. It looked comfortable, if he was being truthful. A good life.

But the longer he watched, the more a sense of discomfort set into him. Things were just slightly off. The way MC’s smile never faltered, how perfect their posture was, and how they didn’t speak unless spoken to. It was as if they were merely a doll. The alter smiled, brushing the hair from MC’s forehead, before lifting their hand and kissing the ring they had placed there.

“You know, kitten, you’re so lovely like this.” MC’s blank smile remained. Satan turned the page. “Go set the table for tea time. We can’t be late getting you your medicine.”

On the other side of the mirror, Satan’s brow furrowed deeply. Had he drugged MC? Used a spell? Something to make them so empty? He couldn’t imagine doing such a thing, not to MC. He loved them, even if he hadn’t had the courage to admit it yet. He swallowed heavily, and turned away from the sight without a word, walking away from the mirror without looking back. A pit had formed in his stomach that wasn’t there before.

Asmodeus

Asmo was excited to see his turn had come, practically flouncing forwards as he hummed. He had forgotten that this was about seeing an alternate dimension entirely, and was focused on his own reflection, cooing over the sight of himself. He gasped softly in shock as the sight of his own beautiful face began to distort itself, which was terribly rude, considering how perfect he looked! The tragic loss of his reflection became an acceptable problem, however, when the other world began to appear to him.

The alternate fifth born was already centered in the frame when the world became visible, and the original Asmo squeaked in delight. “Oh~! I knew I would be gorgeous, but wow!” In the mirror, the demon was singing softly to himself as he perfected his makeup, briefly turning into his true form, all three heads on display as he fixed the lipstick on the center face, the face of a man who could breathe fire, before turning back to his much tamer human form, and smiling.

“Okay, MC!” The alt stood, turning to the mindless creature on his bed, eyes hazed over as they drooled, skin crawling and desperate for attention. The human whined pitifully, pulling at the ties that bound their limbs to the bed, arching their chest into the air in an attempt to attract the demon. It was as if MC didn’t notice that they were bleeding heavily, coated in dried cum, every orifice grotesquely stretched. To be honest, they didn’t. They didn’t even remember their name. The only thoughts left were of Asmodeus. “I’ll be back later. If I’m not home tonight to feed you, hopefully Satan will remember. Caio!” Asmo blew a kiss and disappeared out the door, leaving the needy MC alone.

The original Avatar of Lust was both shocked and mildly turned on at the sight. So, MC was a little banged up. Wasn’t everyone after a good night? The concerning part was how dumb MC had seemed. They hadn’t said a word the entire time! Maybe that was just their kink? He had yet to sleep with MC after all, who could say? He looked down at his feet for a moment, dwelling on it, and when he looked back up, it was into the gorgeous sight of his own eyes.

It was clear Asmo wasn’t going to move on his own, so Beel chomped down on the rest of his doughnut, lifted Asmo up, and set him off to the side.

Beelzebub

“Hey!” Asmo complained as he was moved, but Beelzebub only shrugged with one shoulder, offering a half smile as he said “Sorry, Asmo, Belphie is just real excited for his turn.” Belphie did not look that excited. He looked most of the way asleep, leaned against the wall a few feet off to the side. “He’s just tired, that’s all.” Beel had to stand back further than the rest to fit his body in the frame of the mirror, and as soon as he had, he sighed sadly, placing his hands on his stomach as it growled. “I’m hungry...” he complained, as the glass began to shift.

A table appeared, stacked several feet high with food, and Beel was drawn in to the sight, drooling. Above the table, a fly that had to be the size of Lucifer was hovering, acid dripping from its mouth and dissolving the food on the table before slurping it back up. It didn’t take long for the entire array to be devoured. The fly landed, its form stretching and shifting as it transformed into a hulking beast of a creature, its stomach dipped so far in it may as well have been touching its spine.

“That’s me?” Beel questioned, confused. The monstrous creature stalked from the kitchen, just as MC appeared around the corner, carrying a tray piled with all flavors of cakes. 

“Hungry,” came the low, rumbling sound of the Founder of the Order of the Fly. His voice was graveled and rough as he gripped the plate in MC’s hands, lifting it up and swallowing it whole, while groaning. His stomach seemed only to shrink back even further. “Still hungry,” he snarled, grabbing MC by the waist as he unhinged his jaw, letting it drop open as MC screamed. He didn’t start at the head. And he didn’t rush.

Beel was horrified. For once, his appetite had disappeared. “MC?” He questioned, trembling fingers touching the mirror. He closed his eyes tight to hold back the tears that threatened to form, and when he opened them again, he was only touching flat glass.

Belphegor

Beelzebub was still distraught as he shook Belphie awake, mumbling that it was his turn with the mirror before walking away with his shoulders slumped. He didn’t know if he could ever eat again. Well, his head didn’t know. His stomach was already rumbling. Belphie rubbed his eyes as he looked into the mirror, at first mistaking the liquid glass for his sleepy gaze playing tricks on him.

But there it was. An image of himself, or at least he thought it was himself, curled on a large bed. He wasn’t yet asleep, long tail waving, his body so much larger and elongated than he would have imagined himself. His evil mirror twin looked much like a dragon. And like a dragon, he had a hoard, the walls lined in trinkets and weapons and the like. The rest of the room was filled to the brim with pillows and blankets and other soft things.

The mirror Belphegor yawned, stroking MC’s face with one finger. They looked so sad, tears running down their cheeks. Belphie rubbed them away, and licked the salt from his fingertips. “Don’t cry,” he rumbled in a low, slow voice that dripped from his mouth like molasses poured from the jar, “It’s resting time. Give me your soul, and I will let you sleep.”

MC sniffled, before nodding. They clearly didn’t know what else to do. “O-Okay,” they agreed. Belphie smiled as his tail tightened its grip around them.

“Good,” he sighed, closing his eyes and drifting off. MC struggled in his grip, but it was too late. They were trapped.

“No...” The smaller Avatar of Sloth murmured. “No, I wouldn’t kill them again.” He shook his head, but the emotional strain of the knowledge was too much, and he blinked, blinked, more and more slowly, until he was curled on the floor, content to pretend it had all been a dream. Belphegor could not handle the guilt of MC’s death a second time.

ENDING:

Diavolo grinned as the last of the brothers took their turn. “How lucky! You’re the first ones to look in this mirror in centuries, even I haven’t looked! So? What did you see?”

The brothers, the ones who were awake anyways, looked on in silence. The Demon Prince’s smile began to fade.

“Oh. How terribly disappointing. Meeting adjourned.”

[dazenightmare]

Fucking Perish Together

Sneaky bastard, that is what I am >:)

Sequel to Birds of a Feather. Doesn’t make as much sense without it, but it can probably be read as a standalone.

Anyways, here’s the misadventures of Tubbo.

T.W.: Cursing, cussing, kidnapping, technically getting kidnapped, yelling, shouting, screaming, let me know if I need to add more!

~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo has been with them for five months.

Things have been getting easier for them since this addition, in more ways than one.

Tubbo, unlike Ranboo, was much more willing to learn Common to talk with them. Eventually, they realize whatever they teach Tubbo, they teach Ranboo too, after Wilbur accidentally walked in on them going over words with each other.

When they both are finally able to make short sentences, there’s pride. However, it is a surprise hearing the different accents the two had. Especially since nobody in their little circle talked the way Ranboo did.

They also learn that Tubbo is unnecessarily strong for someone his size. That’s helped them more than you could imagine, between battling, mining, and moving cargo around.

Tubbo also attaches himself to Tommy, much like how he’s done to Ranboo. For the longest time he switched between hanging out with them, and never liked being without neither for very long. While they account this may be a bit detrimental to Tubbo, it’s helping Ranboo come out of his shell, and Tommy seems genuinely happier with the lil fellow around, so they brush it off for now.

When Tubbo finally stopped spending every waking moment with the two, he gradually started to spend some time alone. Naturally, this worried everyone as Tubbo disappeared for extended periods of time.

Tubbo tired out easily, so what if he got far and was too tired to come back before night? He’s smaller than a lot of mobs, so what if too many swarm him to deal with? His only defense was his box, so what if he got separated from it?

They learn to let these worries go as after a couple weeks Tubbo showed them an EXP farm with a wide smile, then clung to Ranboo and Tommy as if nothing happened.

Of course, just like with every other member of the family they gained, there were downsides too...

——

It was night time, and everybody sat near the pub, currently watching Tommy jokingly hate on Ranboo with smiles. Something about Tubbo, who left to get some more fire wood and should be back any minute now.

At the thought, Niki frowned at the shore, glancing around.

Tubbo should’ve been back now, surely. Wonder what was keeping the Shulk.

Meanwhile, Tubbo hid in a burrow beneath a tree, glaring up at the night sky, staring at the swooping animal. Phantoms, the natural predator for any Shulks living in the overworld. Shulks preferred sleeping in their boxes, since sleeping in beds was too open, plus beds always blew up in the End, leaving old habits to die hard. Phantoms apparently take issue with this.

Okay, Tubbo thought to himself, eyeing the flying bastard. I am fucking freezing, and I won’t be safe until I get to my box or it becomes day. I am not spending my night under this fucking tree.

Then Tubbo turns his gaze to the flickering light far off, where he can just barely make out his friends.

“Waiting, running, waiting, running,” he mumbled to himself, looking back and forth between the predator and his friends.

Silently making his decision, Tubbo grimaces, picking up the sticks he gathered for the campfire. Before he can think it through, he starts sprinting across the clearing, screaming as loud as he could in hopes of going faster.

He can hear the screech of the phantom as it pursues him, and Tubbo’s screams turn a bit more genuine.

Back at the fire, his friends start to question where his is.

“He’s been gone for a while now,” Ranboo noted, holding his friend’s box in concern. “Should we check on him?”

Before anyone can throw in their nickel, Tubbo’s screaming makes it to their ears. They all look over to see the lad halfway across the field, just in time to see a phantom fucking snatch him.

“HOLY SHIT,” someone shouts, as they witness the phantom fly back into the sky, holding their screaming companion in it’s mouth.

“LET ME GO YOU FUCKING SELF-RIGHTEOUS PRICK! I’LL FUCKING STRANGLE YOU YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING WANKER! GODDAMN BONEY ASS WHORE!” They hear Tubbo shout. Some of them idly wonder how the Hell Tubbo learned such words. Most of them are panicking.

Philza takes off into the air while everyone shouts random things, most of it being overtaken by Tubbo swearing like a sailor. It takes a while before Philza is able to pry Tubbo out of its mouth, kill the phantom, and land with a shaken Tubbo in his hands.

Tubbo says nothing as he reaches for his box and climbs inside with a traumatized look. The box slams closed in Ranboo’s hands. They all stare at the box in silence as it opens a moment later, sticks being hurled out before it’s closed again.

——

“Piss sheep, piss sheep,” Tubbo chanted under his breath, pushing his box into the water before hopping in like it was a boat. “Visiting the piss sheep. Piss sheep, piss sheep.”

He paddled with his hands before getting tired. It was only when Tubbo was in the middle of the lake, without food, that he realized something.

“... I can’t fucking swim,” he stared into the water, bobbing up and down in his box, far away from any land. Tubbo sat there bobbing for half a day in shame before his using his comm.

“Hello?”

“Hey Niki,” Tubbo started, still staring into the water. He looks in the direction of Niki’s lagoon. “So... I can’t swim.”

“Uh... yeah?” Niki warily responded. He heard Wilbur on the other end of the comm, talking, and Niki whispering an “I don’t know”.

“You however, can swim.”

“Yes...?”

“Therefore, I am asking for your assistance.”

“Assistance with what?”

“... I didn’t want to say it, but I forgot I can’t swim. I am currently in my box in the middle of the lake without food, and have been sitting here in self-pity since this morning. Please help me.”

The line immediately went dead, making him frown. It didn’t take much to figure out why as he heard many people shouting from the lagoon. Tubbo merely shrugged and waited. Eventually Niki’s head popped out of the water in concern.

“Are you okay?!”

“Nothing but a broken dignity, thankfully,” Tubbo deadpanned. Niki stressed a bit more before pushing his box towards the lagoon as she swam.

It didn’t take too long before they were in the lagoon, Wilbur and Tommy immediately looking over him once he reached shore.

“How the fuck did you forget you can’t swim?” Tommy asked after they were sure Tubbo was only hungry.

“... I don’t want to talk about it.”

——

“Did you know shulker boxes function like chests?” Philza said as he built. Wilbur tilted his head.

“No.”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure Shulk boxes work in that way too!”

“Huh...”

Later that day, Wilbur found Tubbo walking around, following Ranboo who held his box.

“Hey Tubbo!”

“Yeah?”

“What do you keep in your box?” Wilbur asked, eyebrows furrowing. He wondered what could possibly be in such a space.

Tubbo lit up before making grabby hands towards his box. Once it was handed to him, he reached inside and pulled out nine stacks of flowers, showing them off to Wilbur proudly. Wilbur stared. This is not what he expected.

Wilbur teared up.

“That is just fucking adorable. You are adorable and I hate you.”

——

Today, an unstoppable force met an immovable object.

Or, in Tubbo’s case, a solid being met a not-so-solid but not-quite-liquid being.

He had just been minding his damn business, picking flowers in a field when suddenly he got fucking stepped on. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it was the new hybrid named Charlie, who was a slime. Now, Tubbo was STUCK in CHARLIE SLIMECICLE’S FOOT.

The worst part? THE FUCKER DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE! JUST KEPT ON WALKING!

Tubbo felt nothing but misery, being submerged in this foot, not being able to move and waiting for someone to notice he was here. They noticed he was gone, but not with them.

He had to sit here, and watch everybody search for him for the entire day, more and more worried. They found Tubbo’s box in the field he was stolen from, and now had it as they met at the lake to discuss it.

They sat there for about an hour discussing it after a whole day of search. The sun was setting, and just as Tubbo lost hope, Jack glanced down and managed to see him.

“HOLY FUCK!” Jack shouted as he flinched. If Tubbo could roll his eyes he would. The next twenty minutes was everyone freaking out as they tried to get him out of the foot.

Eventually Tommy managed to get him out, and after breathing heavily, Tubbo glared at Charlie.

“YOU SLIMY ASS BITCH! I’VE BEEN STUCK IN YOUR GODDAMN FOOT ALL DAY! TODAY WAS FLOWER DAY YOU BLOODY CUNT! YOU’RE LUCKY I CANNOT FUCKING HIT YOU OR YOU’D BE DEAD WHERE YOU STAND! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE WALKING!”

——

“Tubboooooo,” Tommy whined, laying on Tubbo’s box. “I’m sorryyyyyyy...”

“Vwoop.”

“He says ‘fuck off’,” Ranboo translated, watching from nearby. Tommy just groaned more.

“Tubbo... I’m really sorry... please come out...”

“Vwoop.”

“That’s a no.”

“Tubboooooooo...”

[heartsofbeskar]

universe of two

chapter two: the reunion

din djarin x fem!oc

WARNINGS: explicit smut, violence, language

WORDS: 5.3K

EXCERPT: As he examined the wound there — now a barely visible disturbance to the expanse of her skin, though he was experienced enough he must have known what it had originally been — she gripped the fabric around his neck.

“I’m here, Din. I’m fine.”

She waited, with bated breath, for him to say something, say anything — all of the emotions she had felt since the day he’d left felt like they were surging to the surface, threatening to burst through her skin. How can he not be feeling the same?

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Elle wasn’t sure how many days she had spent underground.

Time seemed to pass languidly, flowing like honey, but somehow also running through her fingers faster than she could contain.

The Armourer had told her she’d been asleep for the better part of two days, as her blaster wound had healed. It was a dull ache in her side now, the skin only just noticeably newer than that around it. She brought Elle small ration portions twice a day, but otherwise they passed their time in silence. Elle had so many questions burning in her throat, but she doused them.

The first time she wandered outside the area of the forge, the Mandalorian hadn’t spared her a second glance. Elle took this as permission. She’d removed her shoes earlier so she could soothe the blisters, and the cold stone was bliss on the pads of her feet. The edge of her blaster sat against her back, where it was tucked into her pants.

She emerged into what she guessed was the main tunnel, as its width dwarfed all the other corridors she’d been through. Sunlight filtered through high set windows above, the first Elle had seen since reaching the tunnels. She flinched back when she recognized Stormtrooper boots walking past them, but they took no notice of her standing below.

Stepping forward, her toes met something smooth, metal. A piece of Mandalorian armour, she realized, bending to lick it up. That was when she saw the rest.

A large pile of beskar armour pieces, of every colour and shape. The numerous helmets sat atop the pile sent a shiver through her. Sinking to her knees, not caring about the wet and dirty ground, she set down the piece of metal she had, gingerly reaching for the helmet closest to her.

It was a dull blue, adornments set in above the eye visor, and Elle recognized it as that of the Mandalorian man she’d met at the entrance to the covert. She felt her eyes burn with tears as she ran her fingers over the helmet’s curves and edges.

“Our secrecy was our survival,” came a low voice beside her. Blinking rapidly, Elle saw the Armourer standing silently and stoically, looking at the pile before them.

“Are they all dead?” she whispered. She knew, from all the time she’d spent with Din, none of those warriors would’ve given up this armour willingly. That every single one of them would have rather died than be parted from it. This is the way, Din had murmured softly to her.

“Most,” the Armourer answered shortly. With a heavy sigh, she sank to one knee, closer to Elle’s level now. “I believe a few were able to escape, including Din Djarin, but … the Imperials here have longed for our blood for many years.”

Tears spilled over her eyes now, hitting the helmet she grasped in her hands, breaking up the dust and dirt where they fell. Elle brought a shaking hand to wipe her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said lamely. It didn’t feel like nearly enough, it never did. But it was all she had. “I know … what it’s like. To lose everything you have. Everyone.”

The Armourer nodded, as if this was something she already knew. She reached forward, and Elle thought she might yank the helm from her unworthy hands and scold her for touching such a thing, but instead she gingerly cupped the pendant that hung from her neck.

“This crest … you are of Alderaan?”

Elle nodded, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to stop more tears.

“Then you do know of loss,” the Armourer said quietly. She dropped her hand.

They sat in silence. Elle didn’t know for how long. She could hear a low hum from the forge nearby, the steady drip of water somewhere above them. They sat until Elle’s knees started to numb, until her hands ached where they grasped the cool metal.

“Will you bury them?” she finally asked.

“No,” the Mandalorian said. “It is not safe to stay here. If the Imperials suspect anyone is still in the tunnels, they will return with vengeance.”

“I have nowhere to go,” Elle whispered. She looked back out to the dirt streets beyond the window. The streets she had come to know and love in her time there, the streets she could not imagine abandoning now, even though she knew there was no choice. Despite its rough inhabitants and overseers … it was home. And it was where her Mandalorian came to find her.

The Armourer put a gloved hand under her chin, gently turning her face to look towards her.

“You will go with me,” she said definitively. “And we will find Din Djarin. This is the way.”

—

She knew something was happening, something bad, when the ground shook above them. Elle could feel her heartbeat increasing, breaths coming quicker as she worried they were approaching the tunnels.

“Something’s going on, something different,” she said to the woman who was still forging behind her. Elle had wondered so many times what she was actually making, but knew better than to ask. The Mandalorian woman came up behind her now, placing a gentle hand on her back.

“Indeed,” she agreed. “It is time to go. Take this.”

She pressed something small and cool into Elle’s hands. Opening them, she saw a necklace, a pendant attached shaped like an horned animal that Elle didn’t recognize. She ran her fingers over the cool metal.

“Take the south entrance, it’s unlikely they’re guarding it,” The Armourer continued. “Take your knife, and your blaster. Run as far as you can. If you see any Mandalorian, show them this. It signifies you are under this tribe’s protection.”

Elle shook her head as the older woman’s words sunk in to her. “Wait you— you’re not coming? You said I would go with you, I can’t …”

“I am responsible for this tribe, for this covert. I must stay. I will be with you, with this,” she squeezed her hand around Elle’s where it held the pendant. Her other hand grasped Elle’s face firmly. “You are of Alderaan. You are stronger than leagues of men. You can survive, and you will.”

Elle’s eyes searched the Mandalorian’s visor frantically, as if they could find some emotion displayed there. Looking down at the pendant again, she felt the weight of the truth settle inside her. The Armourer could never have gone with her. She had always known that.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Before she could say anything else, they heard voices from the main tunnel. Elle stiffened, sure that she was too late, that the Imperials were here, and they would kill her.

“Stay here.” The Armourer calmly walked towards the noise, pulling a floating cart behind her.

She returned a few minutes later, though to Elle it felt like a lifetime passed waiting in the forge. When she did, there were multiple figures trailing behind her. Her heart seized in her chest when she recognized the one in front, the chrome expanse across his chest, the sleek curve of the helmet, the wide set of his shoulders — Din.

“Elle,” he breathed out, sounding as much in disbelief as she felt.

Not caring who was watching, Elle rushed towards the chrome man, throwing her arms around his neck, an echo of the last time she’d seen him. When she didn’t know if she would ever see him again. But he was here, he was real and solid under her fingers, where they dug into the fabric of his cowl.

Din said nothing, but grasped her body with an urgency she had never felt from his hands before. She felt dull pain flare where she’d been shot as he tightened his arms around her, but she didn’t care. Her eyes filled with tears again.

When she brought a hand up to the back of his helmet, he grunted, as if he were in pain. She pulled back with a start, hands running over everything she could reach.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, frantic. He unwound his arms from her body, grasping her face between them.

“Elle,” he said again. “I’m alright.” He almost sounded like he didn’t believe that himself, but before Elle could respond, the Armourer spoke from behind her.

“Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

Din turned from her, leaving one hand clasped on her elbow. An IG-11 droid loomed in the doorway, a burlap sack hanging from its neck.

“This is the one.”

Elle’s breath caught in her throat as she saw a figure stick its head up out of the sack. An impossibly small and green head looked back at them, ears spread comically wide, eyes wide. She saw it and felt it in the same instant, the energy it brought into the room far outpacing its small size.

“This is the one you hunted, then saved?”

She felt Din’s hand tense on her arm for a moment.

“Yes. The one that saved me as well.”

“From the mudhorn?”

Elle couldn’t follow the conversation trajectory well; she was distracted by the little being. It was looking directly at her now, and she felt a warmth spread through her body unlike ever before.

“Yes.”

“It looks helpless.”

Gently, she moved from Din’s hold. The creature — the baby? — watched her intently as she approached.

“It’s injured, but it is not helpless. Its species can move objects with its mind.”

It held out a small hand to her once she stood directly in front of the droid, three short little fingers reaching out. Elle brought her hand, letting it wrap both hands around one of her fingers.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the forge. She was no longer anywhere, the dimension of space stripped away entirely. It was her and this child Din had rescued.

Who are you?

She felt an impossible depth within him. And power … Din was right, he was not helpless. He was extraordinary.

Grogu.

With the name came more fragments that raced past too quickly for her to focus. She tried desperately to pull them back, to bring them together, to make sense of what he was trying to tell her, but she wasn’t strong enough. The pieces slipped away.

I’m sorry. I can’t understand.

“Elle?” Din’s hand on her shoulder pulled her into the present. “We have to go.”

She nodded, a little breathless.

The Armourer addressed the droid. “IG, please guard the outer hallway. A scouting party draws near.”

The droid moved for the first time since entering the forge, taking the sack from around its own body, holding it out for Elle, who was closest. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it, placing it around her own neck. Grogu looked up at her with those wide eyes. She placed a hand gently on his fuzzed head.

The Armourer was handing Din a large rectangular device that Elle didn’t recognize.

“When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.”

“I understand.”

Blaster fire came from the hallway just outside, but was quickly cut off. IG-11 reappeared.

“You are protected,” it said.

The Armourer came to stand beside Elle. “More will come. You must go.”

Elle turned to her, giving one last desperate plea she knew was fruitless. “Come with us.”

The woman shook her head, placing a hand on Elle’s cheek. “My place is here. Restock your munitions. IG, carry the phoenix for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it. Now, go! Down to the river and across the plains. Be safe on your journey.”

“Thank you,” Din said. He grasped Elle’s hand, pulling her along behind him and the others. They’d only reached a short distance away when Elle could hear the telltale sounds of a fight, and anxiety bubbled in her chest.

“She is a skilled warrior,” came Din’s voice from beside her. Maker, it was so nice to hear that voice, she thought, even through the modulation.

“I know,” Elle said quietly. She realized she was still clutching the pendant the woman had given her, the edges of the horns biting into her palm. Its weight there was reassuring. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He looked back at her, and she was sure there would be a sea of emotions in his eyes, could she see them. “I will be.”

That was enough for her.

They suddenly emerged into a much wider tunnel, the widest she’d seen so far, and the heat wafted up to where they stood from a river of lava flowing through the centre.

The man with them — Greef Karga, Elle recognized — nodded. “This is the lava river.”

Elle held back from rolling her eyes.

A very old looking boat sat anchored near the entrance they stood in. Din let go of her hand, nearing the droid that sat at one end of it.

“The ferry droid is fried.”

“Yeah, but if we push the boat out, we can get it to float downstream,” Karga suggested.

Elle neared the vessel. It really did look ancient. “It looks old. Can it handle the heat?”

Karga shrugged, eyes darting around the tunnel. “Anyone have a better idea?”

Din bristled at his response to her, then sighed. “Guess not.”

She watched as they attempted to push the boat from where it was stuck to the stone foundation by a block of cooler lava. Feeling a small tug from below, Elle glanced down to see Grogu reaching for her hand again, his large eyes tilted up to her in concern.

Wrapping her fingers around his tiny hand, she rocked him gently. “It’s okay, little one. He’ll get us out of here.”

Elle wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince the baby, or herself.

The woman who was with them — whose name Elle still did not know — shrugged a rifle off of her back. “You guys mind getting out of the way?”

When they obliged, she shot at the offending rocks, and they promptly broke into a multitude of pieces, the boat creaking as it was freed.

The five of them piled into the boat quickly. The tall droid held out its hand for Elle, all but lifting her by it into the vessel.

“Watch your feet,” it urged. “It’s molten lava.”

“No kidding,” Elle murmured. She swiped her hair to one side, wiping sweat off the back of her neck. She made the mistake of resting her bare hand against the metal side of the boat, and she cursed as if swiftly burned her skin. A red welt spread across her palm.

The boat began moving slowly. Greef Karga gestured excitedly to a halo of light that sat at the far end of the tunnel ahead of them, presumably the exit to the lava flats. “That’s it. We’re free!”

Din moved to stand behind her, resting a hand lightly on Elle’s waist. “No. No, we’re not. Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we’re coming.”

Elle gripped Din’s hand where it sat on her side, a shiver progressing down her spine.

“Stop the boat.” The woman turned on the droid paddling them along. “Hey, droid, I said stop the boat. Hey, I’m talking to you. I said stop!”

Clearly frustrated, she fired a single shot at the small droid. They didn’t stop moving.

“We’re still moving.” Karga shook his head.

“Looks like we fight,” the woman said.

“There are too many,” Din insisted, his hand tightening on her.

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the Child.” The IG droid turned to face them. “This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

Din shook his head. “You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective.”

The mouth of the tunnel drew closer.

“I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.” He handed Din the jetpack from the Armourer. “I can no longer carry this for you. Nor can I watch over the Child.” Grogu gave a curious coo from the satchel.

“Wait. You can’t self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the Child. That supersedes your manufacturer’s protocol, right? Right?” Elle had never heard the man so frantic.

“This is correct.”

“Good. Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.”

“Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The Child will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where the Child is saved, in which I survive.”

“Listen, you’re not going anywhere. We need you. Let’s just come up with a—”

Elle turned under his arm, holding his hand and grasping the fabric at his side. She felt tears well in her eyes. “Din, you have to let him go.”

“The girl is correct. Please tell me the Child will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.”

“But you’ll be destroyed.”

“And you will live, and I will have served my purpose.”

“No. We need you.”

Tears spilled over onto Elle’s cheeks now, at the emotion in Din’s voice, the tones of pain she had never heard from him. And she knew, she knew, the sacrifice he struggled to accept. She had been there.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, not caring that the others looked on, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Trying to anchor him there.

“There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Yes you are. I’m a nurse droid. I have analyzed your voice.”

She turned her face to the side as the IG stepped off the boat. It’s long legs held its upper body out of the lava flow as it stepped ahead of the boat, stopping just short of the entrance.

“Manufacturer’s protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must be destroyed.”

An explosion shook the tunnel, light flaring from where the IG stood. Elle turned her head quickly back into Din’s chest, placing a hand protectively over Grogu’s small face. Din’s hand came up to the back of her head, fingers tightening in her hair. She could feel it shaking there.

He held on until they reached the end of the tunnel, light flooding over the boat. Elle squinted

into it, noticing the way Din’s hands tightened on his blaster, scanning for Stormtroopers that were left. But there were none — IG had fulfilled his promise. She held onto Grogu’s small hand.

A chill washed over her bones as she heard and then saw the TIE fighter overhead. Elle felt Din’s hand again on the back of her head, this time insistent, pushing her down, just before the small ship opened fire on them.

“He missed!”

“He won’t next time.” Din turned to her, placing a hand on Grogu’s head. “Don’t move.”

Elle nodded, the shots still ringing deep within her eardrums. A subtle pain was blooming above her left eye. Grogu gave a small whimper in her lap, and she wrapped an arm around him reassuringly, holding him tight against her.

She watched, breathless, as Din soared up, up, up, higher into the sky than she thought possible, towards the TIE ship. Like he was an angel from the stories her father used to whisper to her before bed. Elle’s heart seized in her chest when he hooked onto the moving ship, grabbing on to it for Maker knew what reason.

Then he was falling, freely, plummeting back towards the ground, and Elle tried to surge forward, forgetting herself and the child in her arms and everything.

The woman stopped her with a heavy hand on her shoulder. “He’s fine— look, he’s fine.”

Elle rose from the boat, slowly this time. Sure enough, like a phoenix from the flames, he was there, walking towards them again, the TIE in a smoking wreck behind him. A beskar clad beacon of power. Relief washed through her.

She was grasping at him, only half aware of the movements of her feet against the dirt, of her hands on him, of his arms around her.

“Any more Stormtroopers?”

“I think we cleaned up the town. I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“Elle.” Din’s voice, soft even through his vocoder, pulled her back to the surface. He was looking down at her. “Will you come with me back to the ship?”

She was nodding before he finished his question.

—

Elle watched from the door of the Crest as he knelt before the fresh mound of dirt. The glinting helmet gave away no emotion as he came

to stand in front of her. She gathered his hands in hers, thumbs rubbing over the unfamiliar leather that covered them. She missed his skin.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said quietly. He gave a heavy sigh, saying nothing. She figured he probably didn’t know what to say. She brought a hand to the side of his helmet. “I missed you.”

Din covered her hand with his. “I was so afraid that when I came back you’d be …” He let the word dead hang in the air, impossibly heavy between them.

She opened her mouth, unsure of what she would even say, when a small coo from deeper inside the ship drew their attention. Elle smiled as Grogu waddled into the light, eyelids half closed over his large eyes.

“Grogu, are you tired? It’s been a long day.” She gathered him carefully into her arms, rubbing the small patch of hair on his head gently. He closed his eyes, humming contentedly.

“Grogu?” Din asked.

“It’s his name.” She slowly rocked him, bringing him over to the pram that sat in the far corner of his ship. “He told me.”

“How—” Din shook his head as she settled Grogu into the blankets. “You know what? Never mind.”

With a small laugh, Elle turned back to face him, running her hands up his beskar clad chest. His hands went down automatically to encircle her waist, bunching in the fabric there. She flinched slightly as he gripped her still healing skin, and he froze, pulling her tunic up off her stomach.

As he examined the wound there — now a barely visible disturbance to the expanse of her skin, though he was experienced enough he must have known what it had originally been — she gripped the fabric around his neck.

“I’m here, Din. I’m fine.”

She waited, with bated breath, for him to say something, say anything — all of the emotions she had felt since the day he’d left felt like they were surging to the surface, threatening to burst through her skin. How can he not be feeling the same?

His hands pushed gently on her shoulders, guiding her back, further and further into the ship, until the backs of her knees hit against something hard. Glancing behind her, she saw what could only be his cot, and she nodded at his unspoken question, jumping up to sit on the edge of it.

“Close your eyes,” he rasped out.

In the darkness of her eyelids, Elle heard the mechanical grinding of the ramp raising, then a softer hiss and series of metal clanging she was familiar with. He pushed her back again, deeper into the small sleep space, and she was laying down, before a final sound of the cubby’s door sliding shut.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Elle blinked her eyes open, not that it made any difference. The space was pitch black, and she could barely make out the hulking shape of Din hovering above her, stripped of his armour. She was overwhelmed that she was here, and he was here, and they were in his ship.

She couldn’t wait any longer. Surging upwards, she pressed her lips to his, relishing in the feel of his soft skin that she’d feared she would never again touch. But he was tangible and real in arms as they wound around his neck now, as he pressed his mouth insistently against hers, as he swallowed her whole.

His hand ran up her side under the tunic, ghosting over the healing wound, up to the swell of her breast. She groaned into his mouth when he squeezed gently, thumb running over her nipple. His touch felt like a fire she never wanted to extinguish.

He pushed the fabric up and over her head, and her fingers threaded deep into his hair as he came back down to kiss her again. He bit her lip as he pulled back from her lips, trailing his lips down her neck. Elle’s mouth fell open, hooking one of her legs around his hips, grinding against him. He nipped and sucked down to her collarbone, no doubt leaving a trail of marks down her skin.

Her chest was heaving as he kept pressing his lips against her skin, lower and lower, until he reached her waistline. She lifted her hips off the mattress to allow him to slide her pants and underwear down her legs, before flinging them to the side.

Gently he parted her legs, settling himself between them. He continued his short kisses up the insides of her thighs, teasing around where she needed him the most. Elle could feel his warm breath against her. Finally, tortuously, he drew a single finger up through her folds, gathering the wetness there. But too soon he pulled it away, and she whined.

“Din, please.”

“Sorry, just,” he was breathless. “Just wanted to taste you. Tastes as good as I remember— fuck, maybe even better.”

“Why don’t you get a longer drink then?” Elle brought herself up on her elbows, looking down at the dark shape of him between her legs.

He gave a low chuckle, but obliged her, finally bringing his mouth down onto her cunt. His tongue traced up and down her folds, before he came up to suck on the bundle of nerves that shot pure electricity through Elle’s veins. She buried her fingers in his hair again, grasping the curls there, pushing him further against her. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he continued.

“Maker,” he gasped out, returning his finger to her, pushing it inside now. “Your cunt is so amazing, Elle.”

She laughed, a little deliriously, as he began to pump his finger inside her. His mouth resumed its efforts on her clit, drinking from her like he hadn’t had water in days. His finger hit that soft spot inside of her, and Elle swore she saw the Maker himself in the small bunk.

“Din, more, please I need more,” she cried, bringing a hand up to her own breast, revealing in the sea of sensation churning in her body.

“All you have to do is ask.” And true to his words, he slid one then two more fingers inside her, a hand coming up to her abdomen, anchoring her there. He stretched his fingers inside of her, creating a delicious burn, before hitting her most sensitive spot over and over again.

She needed that anchor now, as the waves of pleasure crashed over her head. She clenched down on his fingers and he withdrew all but one, gently stroking inside her, still sucking on her clit to work her through her orgasm. Elle floated slowly back to shore as she came down.

Elle panted where she laid as she listened to Din shed his own clothes, before settling back between her thighs, hooking one over his hip again. He kissed her softly, lovingly, as he slid his cock inside her. A crest of emotion broke inside of her as she relished in the feel of him, in the connection she had craved since the moment she’d thought she may never see him again.

He rocked his hips into her gently, a forearm resting beside her head. His free hand came to cradle her face as he kissed her.

“Maker, you— Elle, are you crying?”

She nodded, whining quietly, crashing his lips back into hers. Their lips were still brushing against each other as she spoke. “I thought … I didn’t know if you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again.”

He groaned, his head falling into the crook of her neck. “Never. I will never leave you like that, Elle. I promise.”

She held the back of his head, stroking his hair there in time with his strokes into her between her legs. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Din.”

He didn’t reply, placing more open mouthed kisses onto her neck. She clenched around him, and he groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin. The sound of skin on skin filled the small space, impossibly loud. Elle hoped the pram was soundproof.

Din moved his hand from her face down to between their bodies, rubbing circles around and on her clit. “I’m not— shit, I’m not going to last very long. You feel so good, you’re so beautiful.”

“Kiss me,” Elle gasped, grabbing his face, bringing it back to hers. And he kissed her again, drawing the air from her lungs, the soul from her body, melding it together with his.

His lips on hers, his finger on her clit, his cock inside of her — Elle felt herself fall over the edge again, crying out into Din’s mouth as she came again, digging her nails into his broad back.

He followed not far behind, thrusts growing quick and shallow before he groaned, long and low against her face as he came inside of her, warmth spreading from their point of connection.

Din was panting as he lowered himself beside her, gently pulling out. Elle ran her hand up his chest, across the sweat soaked skin, and up over his jaw, running over the stubble there.

He pulled her head into his chest, cradling it under his chin, hand trailing along her bare spine. It left goosebumps in its wake. Elle screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to pierce the delicate skin of the moment they had.

“Din—” she started, after a few long moments of silence. He cut her off.

“You’re staying on Nevarro.”

Elle pulled back, just enough to look up into his face, though she couldn’t make out any features. She wished she could see him now, just to gauge the emotions he felt. Living his life under a helmet, she was sure they would be written across his face like a billboard.

“It’s my home. I want to help make it better.”

She felt him nod, shortly, and she drew her hand around the back of his neck, pulling his forehead down to hers.

“Are you angry?”

He laughed, his warm breath washing over her face. “At you? Never, Elle.”

His hand threaded through her hair gently, and she knew his words were true. She pressed her lips to his, lightly. Her thoughts turned to Grogu.

“Din … he’s special. He’s so special. You have to protect him.”

He nodded, bringing her hand against his cheek. “I will. I promise.”

“And when he’s safe …” Elle’s lips turned upwards into a smile he couldn’t see. “Come back to me.”

When he kissed her again, she could feel he was smiling too.

“I think I already promised you that.”

—

A/N: phew this chapter fought me quite a bit but im happy with how it turned out at least! we’re going to move at a pretty rapid clip through canon season 1 (pretty much contained in this chapter) and season 2 (starting in the next one) hope yall enjoy!! <3

taglist: @pedrostories @thisshipwillsail316

[edmund-valks]

Interlude - The Maw

A blacksmith would have taken different steps.  Forge the blade, give it a handle, wrap the handle.  Something like that, at least.  Thankfully she was able to skip most of that by designing a mold and taking extraordinary care in its production.  A perk of being smart, as she figured it.

The metal was nearly ready.  It wasn’t the colour of anything she’d seen back on Azeroth, instead shedding four different glows at once.  They overlapped and intertwined because nothing here was ever simple.  Ilandreline wasn’t one for metaphors, but even she could recognize this one: four ores, wildly distinct, that could only be properly alloyed through the use of a fifth.  Naturally the alloy was stronger than any of them independently.  Also it was a bastard to work with.

She fed the ingots into the crucible, watching as the forge’s heat quickly liquefied the elethium.  A pull of the lever and it drained into the waiting mixture, which one more movement injected into the waiting mold.  That had been the real work, creating the exact negative space needed inside a block of solid stone.  Not just any stone, of course, but the kind that wouldn’t melt in a furnace designed to bind souls to metal.  Getting pieces of the Black Empire was hard enough even before one crossed into the realms of the dead.

Once the mixture had filled the block, Ila grasped it with the tongs she’d liberated from the soulforger whose workspace she now used.  Steadiness was required to keep the metal from sloshing out or the whole thing from upending.  Her movements were slow and deliberate, never jerking.  A device was only as good as its craftsmanship; she intended this one to be her masterpiece.

Typically one would quench using a specific liquid.  Fresh water, salt water, olive oil, certain beverages made by the dwarves… what one used depended on the desired outcome and the materials involved.  For this it was something a bit more unusual.  The Maw had recently become the destination for a great deal of anima drawn from the spirits being repented in Revendreth.  This made for a sharp, hungry quench, which was precisely what she needed.  She lowered the discomfiting block of slick stone into the roiling crimson, listening to the violent hissing as the alloy took shape.

Once the soul-steam had cleared and the little barrel was minutes removed from its moment of boiling, she fished the mold out with her borrowed tongs.  "This better have worked," she muttered, mostly to externalize the worry.  Better out than in, that sort of thing.  "Only one way to find out."

Placing the black brick on the anvil nearby, she inspected every side for cracks or gaps.  The only one she could find was the little hole where she'd added the molten metal, so… maybe it had happened?  Picking up the hammer she'd made for just this purpose, Ilandreline closed her eyes and sought the resonance.  It was so much easier now than that first time.  That was how she'd survived the darkest path into the Shadowlands, and ever since she'd found herself increasingly aware.  Now it was almost as easy as making saltpeter; not necessarily fast, but a simple task for the experienced.  She felt for her core, dove into it, releasing her perceptions through the nightpurple veins bordering reality.

The Black Empire remnant was anything but dark now.  Even the Maw's dolorous half-light caused a reaction, oil-slick scintilla flaring across the infinitesimal pockmark surface.  In a way, it sang.  Not like a voice, but a tuning fork, a frequency of sensation manifesting multitudinous waves into singular tone.  Where her family's faith resided she felt the echo of kinship.  Reaching through herself, she grasped the thread of the stone's structure and pulled.

In a sweater, such an act would have been the destruction of order that caused its unraveling.  The bedrock of those who dwelt between the stars was made differently, however.  What she had done manifested as an ordering matrix, leaching the inherent structural chaos out, snapping the minerals into some kind of grid.  Gripping tightly through the depths of her soul, Ilandreline raised the hammer high and swung.

The hardened shadowghast strikeface tolled as it impacted the ruthlessly ordered block.  The sound was brutal in its discordance, an archetypal resonance of shattered chains.  What was held tightest become most undone; the black stone crumbled to dust, its forced structure inverted until it could no longer hold together.

Ilandreline felt her entire self ringing as she set the hammer aside.  The reverberations rattled through her bones, trying to unmake her as thoroughly as she had the old gods' relic.  But she was a Glimmerbow, born of those dark blessings, the ancient primordial unmakers' essence suffusing the deepest fibers of her being.  The resonance traveled through her, unable to find an outlet to erode, equally unable to escape until she opened her mouth.

She didn't scream; this wasn't pain.  Instead she had become an accidental echo chamber, an acoustic amplifier not unlike the elegant curves of a bell.  From inside her structure rang the peal of uncreation.  Open-mouthed she exhaled it into the stygian plains, unable to cease until the note was spent.  Unable to hear, she could still feel the rigid structure of forge beside her eroding beneath the reciprocal action to what she had done.

As suddenly as it began, the moment ended, buckling her knees.  Reflex alone allowed the elf to catch herself, weak-legged and bent over the anvil, eyelids only now able to pry themselves apart.  Unsteady, Ila exerted her focus once more, willing herself to stay standing.  As she did so, refusing to acknowledge the possibility she might collapse, she examined her work.

Atop a fine pile of utterdark sand lay a blade.  It was a single piece, cast-forged, with a tapering, triangular blade emerging from one edge of a metal-wrought vertebra.  Opposite the blade extended the cylindrical smoothness of bone, flaring into a double-knobbed pommel.  It was far more beautiful than she'd expected, or perhaps that was the wrong word.  Elegant?  Fitting.  This was a blade made with purpose, for someone very specific, and such certainty was apparent in its aesthetics.

"Almost done."  Her voice was hoarse though she didn't realize it.  She hardly knew she'd spoken, what with the ongoing ringing in her ears, and the way structures sounds such as speech fell apart in the fading wake of the hammer blow.

Ilandreline forced her legs to stillness, stood straight atop them once more.  Grasping the weapon's handle -- she would wrap it with aged linen later, to give it the feel of something found in an ancient mausoleum -- she turned its stiletto point toward herself.  Her other hand moved to expose an expanse of pale flesh, against which she set the blade.

"Freely given," she murmured, the spoken fraction of a larger recitation mostly contained within her mind.  "A gift for another, made with intent.  A part of me to carry with you."  It was almost embarrassing to say it.  Hearing herself speak so openly brought heat to her cheeks, but it wasn't so bad to shake her from her plan.  Not after coming so far.  

Shutting her eyes, Ilandreline exhaled slowly.  Her free hand rested along the cold curves of the pommel.  Freely given.  Lungs fully empty, she braced herself and pushed.

The blade slid in more easily than she'd expected, quickly piercing through skin and fat and muscle.  Farther and farther she guided it until the change in resistance signified she'd reached her goal.  Just the barest movement more, pricking the exterior of her still-beating heart.  Now the hard part.

Pulling the blade back out was the most excruciating experience of her life.  It was a tool of purpose, to pierce through barriers and bring an end.  To remove it without having killed was to deny it that fulfillment, and so the blade fought her every fraction of the distance.  Blood -- her blood -- flowed over its pyramidal smoothness, slicking everything, trying to undo her efforts and allow the blade to feast on her life.  Gritting her teeth, she looped a finger through the hole in the center of the guard, using the extra leverage to force the dagger out of her flesh entirely.

Slamming the bloodied weapon back on the anvil, Ila scrambled to the forge.  There she snatched up the last of the prepared tools, a length of featureless iron, brilliantly glowing from the infernal heat.  "Fuck, this was a stupid idea."  Laughing at herself, she pressed the white-hot implement against the triangular piercing in her breast, allowing her rasping scream to drown out the sound of flesh cauterizing.

She didn't know how much time elapsed between keeping herself from bleeding to death and when she was able to stand again.  It didn't matter, not really.  The important thing was Loira's gift was finished.  Complete, even.  Totally worth it… but if she loses it I'm gonna kill her.

Chuckling at that, Ilandreline scraped herself together.  Time to get out of here before the Covenants' assault wavered and the Jailer's forces had time to look for things like wayward elves with bad ideas.  She took another quick look at her handiwork as she vacated the premises.  There was no trace of her blood any longer, though she didn't remember wiping it clean, and every now and then the faint ghost light would reflect off a fleck of gleaming darkness.  Sand in the blade?  No, not sand; the dust of the Black Empire.  Absorbed somehow following the sanguine consecration.  Curious, but probably not a big deal.  She hadn't felt anything strange, and her instincts were usually good about that sort of thing.

"Thanks for the help!" she told the forge's previous user, stepping over its hollow corpse.  The spiked helmet that had been something like a head was mangled beyond recognition, as if repeatedly bashed by some kind of heavy blunt object.  Ilandreline hefted her oversized wrench, rested it on her shoulder, and set off.  Hopefully the blood loss wouldn't slow her down too much.  It would be a shame to die before she could actually give Miss Winford her present.

(( Tagging for mentions of @ms-winford ))

[cornell-mercer]

The Bond

Chapter 1 - The Girl

Explicit - 18+

Mandalorian smut - Mandalorian / original female character

Takes place between season 1 & 2

Chapter 1- The Girl

The Razor Crest glided into Bay 4-6 on the desert planet of Tatooine. With the child in tow, the Mandalorian needed to restock on food and medical supplies, and get some general repairs completed on the Crest. This was a routine layover for the clan of two.

“Well, here we are kid. Let’s get you something to eat”, said Mando looking back from his seat in the cockpit at his little green ward that he considered more like family, as opposed to a job that needed to be done. Although, he would never admit that to anyone; especially himself.

After giving the head ship mechanic detailed instructions on the necessary repairs needed on the Crest, and the supplies to be delivered to the ship, the unlikely pair ventured through the town. Mos Eisley was a dirty, depraved hole of a town that would eat you alive if you didn’t watch your back. Mando opted to carry his charge in a cross body brown sac to keep him mostly hidden from prying eyes. Although, not even the toughest of villains and scum of Mos Eisley would dare mess with a Mandalorian; in full beskar armour no less.

He noticed a small cantina off the main drag and ducked inside the sand coloured structure. Upon entering the cantina, everything went quiet and all species with different sets of eyes fell on Mando; mostly surmising how rich they would be if they were somehow able to part the Mandalorian with his beskar. After a few tense moments of Mando sizing up the patrons and various exit points, he hovered his right-hand over his blaster, sending a clear signal that he wouldn’t hesitate to take out anyone that was stupid enough to mess with him. The hustle and bustle of the cantina then returned as quickly as it had left, and everyone cast their eyes away from him. Mando walked forward and found a small round table in a corner and asked for a large bowl of soup to be brought for his little green companion.

Mando stayed vigilant in scanning the place, as boisterous laughter spread throughout the space from a table across the room. Four large brownish, pinky coloured creatures, that looked to be part Devaronian were making a ruckus about something when he heard a young girl scream, and her tray of drinks flew across the floor. Mando’s eyes behind his visor narrowed, as he saw the largest of the Devaronians pull the small, pretty, dark-haired girl onto his lap by her hair. She clawed at his arm that held her in place, uselessly. Mando stood up, picked up his pulse rifle and was about to take a step forward to intervene, when he saw her.

“Hey shithead! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” yelled a woman in a menacing tone. She had just exited the kitchen area and was presumably also a waitress at the cantina. The woman had a strong, commanding voice, short blond hair and a slim, yet solid build. She was no shrinking violet, like the poor girl trapped on the lap of the lecherous creature. She was dressed in what would be considered typical Tatooine fashion; brown pants, tucked into black knee-high boots, and a tan coloured tunic. Her arms were exposed, and her skin was covered in a thin layer of dust, as is with anyone who has spent more than a day or two on this godforsaken planet. She also wore a utility belt, which housed several useful looking weapons and what may have been tools.

She grabbed what looked like an axe from her belt and stood in a fighting position. “Let her go, nerfherder!”

The Devaronian creature that held the girl on his lap, pushed the small figure to the floor and stood up, towering over the blond woman that had challenged him in front of his three companions. They all laughed nervously and drank their ale, not taking their eyes off the scene.

“You think you can fight me, girl? Do you even know who I am?” his voice boomed through the bar.

“I don’t really care who you are. I just can’t stand a guy who mistreats a girl”, she countered. “Now get out of here,” she gestured towards the door with her head, as she backed away from him slightly.

He roared in laughter and his goons followed suit, along with the rest of the patrons in the bar, too nervous to keep a straight face.

“I am Rab Toll. My father is a close personal friend of Bib Fortuna. My father runs this town.” Rab now taking long strides towards her, loomed over her in an intimidating stance.

“I don’t care who your father is. Maybe he should’ve taught you better manners.” She said boldly as she stared directly into his eyes, trying to hide her trepidation over what she had just gotten herself into.

The Mandalorian could sense this was going to get ugly fast and kept his hand on his blaster from across the room. The child slurped up the last of his soup, as Mando remained lazer-focused on the scene unfolding in front of all the bar patrons turned spectators.

Rab Toll then took a clumsy swing at her head. His reflexes slower than what would’ve been expected, but he had been drinking ale, so that may have been in her favour. She ducked easily out of the way and moved quickly to face him once again. He roared in anger and pulled out his blaster, taking aim at her head. Rab Toll was genuinely shocked when she expertly landed a jump scissor kick, knocking the blaster out of his hand.

Across the room, Mando froze in place and smirked to himself that this girl was no beginner fighter and clearly knew how to take care of herself.

Rab then dove across the floor scrambling towards his blaster, when the girl, with her free hand, grabbed his arm that was reaching towards the blaster and twisted it behind him. Rab roared in pain and reared his head when an unmistakable crunch could be heard. She put the blade of her axe to his neck and lowered herself close to his ear.

“Next time, use your manners.”

She then stood up, tossed Rab’s broken arm to the floor and walked off into the kitchens, as she re-holstered her axe.

Mando sat down and watched as the Devaronian crew helped their leader up and they stumbled out of the bar yelling profanities and something about coming back later.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Mando said in an intrigued tone, looking down at the green child beside him.

Mando settled up the tab and gathered the child into his sac. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the kid was fast asleep, as it usually went when he had a full belly. He began the walk through the town square back to the Razor Crest, when he saw something glint and catch his attention in the sunlight at one of the nearby vendor’s tables. He approached the vendor and was puzzled to find the object that had caught his attention was an exact match to one other he had seen many times before. He shook his head dismissively and carried on through the town. The quicker he and the kid could leave this wretched hive, the better.

When he was nearly back at the Crest, he heard squeals of delight and happiness from what sounded like children coming from a nearby alleyway. As he walked past, Mando looked down the alleyway and saw the blond girl with the short cropped hair. She was sitting crossed legged on the ground, surrounded by children. She had brought food for them, presumably leftovers from the cantina.

“All right, all right, there’s enough for everyone. Just relax.” She said as the children all tried to hug her at once. She looked uncomfortable from all the attention and praise, but he caught a glimpse of an angelic smile beginning to spread across her face.

Mando couldn’t look away and found himself taking several hesitant steps towards her. Who was she? He approached slowly, with his gloved palms up by his sides to show he was not a threat. The girl scrambled to a standing position, putting herself between Mando and the children, with her hand hovering over her axe.

“What do you want Mandalorian?” she said much more aggressively than was needed and levelled her eyes at his visor.

The children grabbed the food and ran hastily towards the small opening at the back of the alley, leaving her alone with the Mandalorian.

“I saw you back at the cantina. Just wanted to ask if you were okay.” He said gently.

“Well, I got fired…” she said raising her arms and dropping them to her sides, in a defeated gesture.

“Yeah. I guess that was probably coming.” Responded Mando in his deadpan gravelly voice.

“Now I’m never going to get off this godforsaken planet.” She said sadly.

After a long and uncomfortable pause, “Why not hire a ride on a cargo vessel?” asked Mando.

“I’m not leaving my ship.” She said, hoping that was enough of an explanation for him to leave her alone. When he tilted his helmet just so, she recognized it as a question.

“Ugh. If you really want to know, I got stuck here when my ship needed repairs and I didn’t have the credits to pay. The parts aren’t readily available because my ship is so old. I was just trying to earn the credits for the repairs, so I can leave. My aunt lives on this planet and is pretty good with fixing up old ships, so she’s holding her for me until I can afford the parts.”

She looked down, tracing a circle in the dust with her boot; unsure about how to fill the awkward silence. “Name is Jaggalor York.”

“Your name is Jaggalor York?” he asked dryly.

She scoffed out a single loud laugh. “No, my ship is named the Jaggalor York. I call her the Yorker for short, but she’s becoming a bit of a burden on me.”

“It would appear so.” Mando said. He was a man who did not see the point in unnecessary conversation.

For the first time, she looked at the Mandalorian’s impressive armour and her eyes settled on the brown sac as his side. “What’s in there?” she asked, gesturing with her chin.

“Nothing” he replied flatly, hoping she wouldn’t push the issue further.

As he spoke, the little green bundle rose his head and with big black eyes, stared directly at the girl. “Well hello there, sweet little man.” Her voice changing to a child-friendly tone, squatting down to ensure she was at eye level with him. “Aren’t you just the cutest.” She said as he cooed and giggled at her, grasping her finger in his tiny hand.

Mando had never seen the kid react this way with anyone before, and for the second time in one day, he smiled under his helmet. Mando could not recall the last time he had smiled; let alone twice in one day. There was something about this girl…

Just then, he had a thought and before he could reason himself out of it, he made a bold statement. “Listen, if you’re looking for work, I might be able to help you.”

The girl was still squatting beside the kid in the sac, and she looked up at him. “Really? What kind of work?” as she narrowed her eyes at him.

He looked down at her, his expression under his helmet unreadable “I need someone to help me look after the kid, to go on jobs. I need someone who can take care of themselves. Someone I won’t have to worry about.” He said in a monotone, gravelly manner. “Plus, it may be in your best interest to leave this planet.” He gestured towards the main road, where more Devaronian crew members were starting to gather and appeared to be heading in the direction of the cantina.

She breathed out a heavy long sigh. “Okay. But you need to agree to drop me off at the nearest planet if things don’t work out.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Okay. Let’s talk credits,” she said impassively.

The trio then walked briskly to the Crest, where they boarded the ramp quickly. Once onboard, she looked around, taking note of the very small space that would be her home for the foreseeable future and wondered if she had made a huge mistake. The Mandalorian then unpacked his charge, placing the sleepy creature in his hammock.

“Come on up. We’ll be taking off shortly” he said climbing the ladder to what she presumed was the cockpit.

“Nice ship. What’s her name?” she asked, as she climbed up behind him.

“Razor Crest.” He responded.

She nodded, buckling herself into the worn leather passenger seat behind the pilot’s chair. Mando expertly worked the controls and lifted off with ease.

“I’m Sloan by the way. Sloan Bira”.

Not saying anything, the Mandalorian turned his head to the side and gave a nod.

“Nice to meet you too, Mando.” She said; her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she gave an eye roll.

Under his helmet, Mando smiled for the third time that day.

Read more here —> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826516/chapters/68124502#main