#{the protector || bo}

[catladychronicles]

I present thee Anakin the boot guardian ; protector of soles 👢

[lightwise]

The Protector: Thoughts about Satine, Bo, and Din as rulers of Mandalore

This has already been discussed in much better detail here, here, and here, but I realized the other day that there is another aspect to the Bo-Katan vs. Din ruling Mandalore with the Darksaber that hasn't been mentioned.

I firmly agree that Din Djarin as a character is meant to serve as the Guardian/Protector, not the Ruler, of Mandalore. He is literally a knight in shining armor. His name could be a reference to the term Paladin (thank you for this @katherynefromphilly). I mean look at him.

Granted, I was excited to see him wield the Darksaber and potentially follow the reluctant leader trope. BUT. I think the direction they are taking him and Bo-Katan is much better.

So how does Satine factor into this, you ask? Here's how. What did Satine not have, as a leader? A PROTECTOR.

Now, she had Obi-Wan. And I believe she even called him her protector at one point (am I imagining this?) And he did what he could to keep her safe and give her guidance.

But he wasn't really able to be her protector the way she needed. They were not able to merge their lives together the way they might have wanted. And Satine's rule suffered and was cut short due to her lack of wise counsel, her lack of someone to lean on who had both her and Mandalore's best interests at heart. (We're going to ignore the Palpatine/Empire component which would have brought down Mandalore regardless, and did so in spite of both Satine and Bo-Katan's efforts).

What has Bo-Katan also not had until now? That same protection. (Other than Fenn Rau, thank you for pointing this out @mandalorianchronicles). And her efforts have also failed, until now.

I am not at all saying that either of these incredible women need a man to be able to rule. They are strong, capable, and independent leaders in their own right. But what they do need is the space to rule, the support and protection and gaps filled that someone having their back could give them, in order to be effective and far reaching in their efforts. Good leaders have to delegate. If they try to handle everything themselves, their energy and efforts will be diminished. And the role of the guardian/protector/paladin is to do just that.

I hope we get to see just how amazing of a team these two can be, supporting each other, filling in the gaps, and coming together to unite their separate definitions of Mandalorian and their respective tribes into one renewed dynasty. (Also keeping my fingers crossed for a Satine mention in live action PLEASE).

This is the Way.

[auroargraves]

Can we cast them again as leads in the next drama? Anything is fine as long as they act together as leads because I love their chemistry so much.

[kalevalakryze]

The Protector

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV) Pairings: Bo-Katan Kryze &Sabine Wren, Din Djarin & Bo-Katan Kryze Characters: Sabine Wren, Bo-Katan Kryze, Din Djarin  Warnings: No Graphic Tags, Sparring, Depression Era Bo-Katan Kryze Notes: For @whumptober 2023 Day 19 & @sabineweek Bingo Prompt Fill "Mandalorian Protectors" & Sabine Week prompt "Sabine and Bo-Katan." Timeline is set around Mandalorian S3. Prompt: Sabine & Bo-Katan | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.” “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.” | Mandalorian Protectors AU Word Count: 3,120 AO3 Link: Here!

The perimeter alarms went off in a way that brought goosebumps to Sabine’s skin. There weren’t many beings alive who knew Clan Kryze’s ancestral home still sat on Kalevala, and from the list of those alive, even fewer could be trusted to show with less than hostile intentions. 

Her helmet was pulled on in short order; Bo-Katan did not utter a word to her protector as she stalked from the desolate Throne Room. Rain fell in thick droplets, rapid in their descent to the earth and in their journey of thoroughly soaking the thick material of Sabine’s flight suit. 

The N-1 was bright, chrome plating catching the flashes of lightning as it arced from the skies from several kilometers away. The pilot was just as reflective as his starship, fresh, unpainted armor catching the ever-present gloom of the storm as he landed. There was no Death Watch signet on his armor, and no threat in the way he exited his ship, in fact, the Mandalorian hadn’t even acknowledged the Protector upon his exit, instead turning back to his ship to prepare something from inside. 

Sabine’s fingers flexed towards the Westars at her side, peering through the raindrops on her visor as he worked. She could not see what was loaded into the pram, but soon, white-painted durasteel hovered two feet from the Mandalorian’s side, and he’d finally graced her with his acknowledgment. “I’m here to see Lady Bo-Katan Kryze,” He began, the wind caught most of his voice through the vocoder, chin raising as he regarded the strange woman and stranger armor. 

“She is not here, you should leave,” Sabine called, shoulders squared and chest puffing out as she regarded the unknown man. Bo-Katan had mentioned a Mandalorian fitting the description of the man, but as her sole Protector, she couldn’t be too careful. 

The Mandalorian paused, hopelessness sagging his frame. “Could you pass along a message, from a friend?”

Walking in long strides, Din Djarin had to move fast to keep at Sabine’s heels, the pram floating behind the two Mandalorians, and raindrops falling to the old carpet where it dripped from their armor. Bo-Katan did not raise her empty stare from indents in the floor, even as their purposeful strides bounced off the cavernous walls. 

“Lady Kryze,” Sabine pulled her helmet from her head, tucking it under her arm as she approached to bow her head, purple strands of hair falling in her face as she did so. Din seemed taken aback at this, but wisely allowed the Protector to continue once she’d garnered the attention of the Princess. “Din Djarin has come for you,” 

The chrome Mandalorian stepped past Sabine, allowing her to take her place to Bo-Katan’s side once more, boots having long since worn into the stone from her weeks of silent vigil at the older woman’s side. “I have come to join you,” He called, imitating Sabine’s posture; shoulders squared, chest puffed out, chin raised. At least an uncivilized member of the coverts could show some respect to the Leader of their people…

For the first time of the day, Bo-Katan’s weight shifted in the throne. Sabine felt the warmth of relief as Bo-Katan’s shoulders rolled. “There’s nothing left to join,” Bo-Katan refused to see it in her grief, that there was something to join, yet Sabine could not step from her place, it was not her duty to make the woman see that, not yet at least. 

Sabine’s head turned away as Din turned to stare at her for an explanation. Her teeth gritted and her fingers flexed around the rim of her helmet. It took a lot to keep her mouth shut, but she’d been trained for this, and had devoted her life to this. If Bo-Katan was not ready, Sabine could not force her…

Din’s confusion showed in his tone, his weight moved from the balls of his feet to his heels. “What of your plans to retake Mandalore?”

Bo-Katan scoffed and Sabine winced. “When I returned without the dark saber… My forces melted away,” Those piercing chartreuse eyes settled on her, bringing the younger Mandalorian to attention. She was the only one who’d stayed, after all. She was sworn not to the dark saber, but to Bo-Katan, and would continue to be until her death in battle. 

Din still seemed confused by this, his head shook in disbelief. “Then where is the stolen fleet?” He hadn’t spotted the stolen imperial ships on the surface, but he’d known the lengths she’d gone through to acquire such a scale for her nite owls. 

The muscles in Sabine’s jaw flexed. She had no kind thoughts on the usurpation of Bo-Katan Kryze for the spineless brute that had rallied her own forces against her. She’d kept her tabs on each of them and had watched every moral Lady Kryze had bestowed upon them all melt away under the promise of a handful of credits. “Making their way across the galaxy..” Bo-Katan answered, beskar catching on the smooth stone of her throne as her weight dropped back again. “As mercenaries,” She added almost sourly. 

Din Djarin’s head turned to the protector then, looking at the armored warrior from the paint splatter on her greaves to the colorful mark that named her commander of the guard stamped proudly into her breastplate. “Why have you stayed, then?” 

Golden eyes flickered towards Bo-Katan, though the woman had looked away pointedly. “Where she goes… I go,” The younger woman declared pridefully. There would never be any uncertainty about where her loyalties lay, ever since she joined the Mandalorian Protectors and had found the Regent Leader working as a Rebel. Saxon didn’t need her, and Mandalore hadn’t needed another to join the cause of bleeding it dry. Bo-Katan had freed the planet, and herself, and while the Imperials reigned havoc upon their homes, she would never forget the kindness that had come in war. 

“Do you still have the saber?”

“...I do”

“Then you lead them,” There was disdain in her tone, Bo-Katan was weary of the interaction already, it seemed. Sabine released a slow breath as she slipped her helmet back over her head, preparing to escort the chrome Mandalorian from Clan Kryze’s castle. “Wave that thing around, and they’ll do whatever you say.” 

“So you… gave up your designs to retake Mandalore?” There was a sadness in his voice, one Sabine could echo. Bo-Katan and herself had argued extensively about the planet’s survivability, and if saving their home would even be worth it. Each time, it seemed to only dull the woman’s will to do much more than sit upon the throne and mope. 

Coming from Din Djarin, however, this seemed to spark anger. Bo-Katan’s lip curled, and Sabine had to calculate the time it would take her to leap between the two. For a woman who spoke of the heaps of Mandalorian blood spilled by her own, she was always so ready to attack even the slightest offense, to defend herself and her honor, oftentimes forgetting that she had Sabine to help carry that weight. 

“Your cult gave up on Mandalore.” She snarled, muscles in her jaw twitching, though neither Heiress or Child of the Watch moved for their weapon, despite stirring hostilities. Still, Sabine took a step down, closer to the apex of tension between them all. “Long before the purge,” A deep breath as the older woman’s brows furrowed, her weight shifted forward and her eyes narrowed. “Where were you then?” 

“The Children of the Watch and all the factions that came before,” Her voice dropped; Bo-Katan had never been one to shy away from her part in Mandalore’s destruction or in the part those fallen, fragmented members of her clan had in the division of their people. “Fractured and shattered our people…. Go home… There’s nothing left.” Sabine’s chin dropped at the conviction in Bo-Katan’s voice. It was the same argument, with a different, hopeful Mandalorian in her place. 

Din Djarin did not back down, however, and Sabine had to commend such an act. “I am going to Mandalore so that I may bathe in the living waters, and be forgiven for my transgressions,” 

There was something familiar in his tone, a voice that had been mimicked by Tristan when he’d run off to the Imperial Academy and returned to Krownest years later with a Jetti and a band of rebels. A promise in his voice that she knew from experience could only be put down with death. Maybe Bo-Katan needed her own Tristan, like she had… A look towards the redhead’s quiet, seething form had told her that no, Din Djarin was not the spark that would reignite the fire of Bo-Katan Kryze. 

“You are a fool.” Her weight shifted against the throne once more. The woman was finished with the conversation, that much was clear, as her tired gaze moved to Sabine before lingering back to empty walls, sinking back into the ghosts of her memories, in paintings that had been taken off the walls when the wails of their ancestors grew too loud. 

“There’s nothing magic about the mines of Mandalore,” She continued, eyes moving across the stone, as if she was watching the choppy animating of a children’s holofilm play out. “They supplied beskar ore to our ancestors, and the rest is superstition. That planet has been ravaged, plundered, and poisoned.” 

“You said that the curse was a lie. Make up your mind,” 

Sabine did not often wear her helmet outside of battle, but now she was thankful for the beskar hiding the way her lips split into a smile. He certainly had a fire in him, that was undeniable. 

“If you want to go to the mines,” Bo-Katan finally turned to look at him once again. “Be my guest. They’re beneath the civic center in the city of Sundari,” 

“Thank you… And I will find out if the planet is really poisoned.” Sabine finally moved from her post to escort the spitfire as he turned away from Bo-Katan. 

“Goodbye, Din Djarin.”

“He’s got a point, Lady Kryze,” Sabine began upon her return to the throne room, frowning at the way Bo-Katan sat back on the throne, a gauntleted arm thrown over her eyes in frustration. 

“I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Wren,” Bo-Katan snapped without looking at her. Sabine let out a soft sigh as she jogged up the stairs of the throne. The younger Mandalorian sighed as she removed Bo-Katan’s helmet from the side of the throne, setting it carefully on the floor under the hawk-like gaze of its owner until she’d removed her own and set it at her side as well.

Carefully, Sabine perched on the arm of the throne, hands in her lap, nervously picking at the fabric that covered her knuckles. “You’re the smartest person I know, Lady Kryze, nothing is going to change that-”

A scoff from the redhead, as she turned her body to face the back of the throne, armor scraping against each other as she curled her legs onto the chair with her. For someone who stood so tall and took up so much space, it made her chest ache to see her let the world swallow her up. 

“Would you like to spar, my lady?” 

This, at least, seemed to get some life from the woman. Sabine needed to keep active, and as much as she liked running the trails around the castle or dancing around the cavernous rooms, a good fight was what they both needed to get the blood pumping and burn off Lady Kryze’s simmering stockpile of rage. 

Bo-Katan was always a ferocious sight in battle. Being able to witness the woman’s prowess in battle was like having a front row seat to the stories passed down between clans, of warriors with the fires of the Great Forge burning under their hal’cabur, bending the battlefield to their demand as they fought for what was right.

There were no stormtroopers to be found under her fist, yet, as the woman taped her knuckles on the other side of the mats, Sabine could still feel the tangible thrum of anticipation, a thundering in her heart at the promise of being the one to pull the Mand’alor from her stupor, however brief it may be. 

Shaking the throes of anxiety from her fingertips, the Protector stretched her arms above her head, palm locking against the opposing elbow until the familiar stretch in her arms thrummed through muscle. Bo-Katan was occupied on the other side; while she did was not one to miss her morning exercises, it had been all too long since she’d allowed the armor to come off. Sabine filed the knowledge away to polish it for the woman later, if all things worked according to plan. 

“I can feel your eyes on me, little Wren.” There was humor in her voice was she spoke, yellow-green eyes unblinking as she adjusted the way the dark blue material rested across her knuckles. 

“My apologies, Lady Kryze,” The woman’s voice held no apology, but the hints of mirth that Bo-Katan had come to appreciate in her company. A smirk tugged at full lips as Sabine released her arm, swinging them out to loosen up before repeating the process on the other side. 

“Alright, Protector, let’s see if you’ve still got it,” There was a spark in her eyes, an ember of something that had been doused by so many before, but not quite put out, not yet, not while Sabine had anything to do with it, at least. 

Bo-Katan waited for Sabine to strike first, air displacing around her fist as she jabbed out, using her forward momentum to follow Bo-Katan’s sidestep up with an elbow jabbed outwards. Bo caught the elbow against her forearm, shoving Sabine back to stagger her momentum. 

“You start with that?” Bo-Katan taunted, sharp eyebrow raised as Sabine spun on her heel, fingers flexing as golden eyes reassessed. 

“Had to make sure you were going to be on your game, this time. Didn’t want to leave you in the dust like-”

Before Sabine could finish, she was put into a terse defense as Bo-Katan snapped forward. Blow after blow was caught on forearms and the meat of her thighs, muscles aching and shaking under the feeling of bruises blooming under powerful hits. 

Bo-Katan wasn’t holding back, a smile seemed to pull at her lips as she sunk into the familiar burn, a predator pushing their prey to the bring, playing with their food… It was the most Bo-Katan had seemed like herself since capturing the Imperial fleet and laying eyes upon the dark saber once more. 

Before Sabine knew it, a foot was hooking behind her ankle, her body was being pitched forward into a steady column of the older Mandalorian’s body, and, in a last-ditch attempt to regain some control of the situation, they were soon both tumbling to the mats, Sabine’s arms circled around Bo-Katan’s shoulders, pinning one arm under her own as her back hit the mats. 

With Bo-Katan’s foot wedged around her shin, the purple-haired Protector was able to koala both legs over the one, knees locking around the thick muscle of Bo-Katan’s thigh as she pitched them to the side, hands scraping, burning against the rough material of the mat as her hands rubbed flat into the floor, pushing herself off the redhead just enough to get a hand on her shoulder.

From the corners of her eyes, she could see the way purple and blue were already beginning to bloom across olive skin, could see the way the freckled skin flushed, sweat-slick and almost shining in artificial lights. Bo-Katan said nothing, breathing through parted lips, a much quieter contrast to the deep swallows Sabine was breathing. Intermingled and tangled, Sabine stared down at the older woman, shock and a sliver of fear at being the one to get the Bo-Katan Kryze on her back.

The silence dragged with Sabine frozen in spot, and Bo-Katan’s eyes raking inquisitively over the protector. 

It took a rush of… something, surely not confidence, that had words spilling past Sabine’s lips, words she had mulled over and had not considered articulating when Bo-Katan seemed desperate to stew in her misery. “Lady Kryze-” She paused as if waiting for permission to continue, however, she forged on before the woman could acknowledge her. The younger woman sat up, leaning back against the redhead’s bent knees. “If there is a way to reclaim Mandalore, don’t you think we should? Mandalorians… we’re stronger together,” Her finger twitched against the soft fabric of the woman’s tank top, anxiety brimming over the surface as the embers in her eyes simmered. 

“I’ll take one final step,” Bo breathed, voice dark and heavy, lips smoothing into a mask of dispassion as her hands settled against Sabine’s arms, fingertips dancing across bruised elbows before she was guiding the young Protector off of her. Letting herself drop to the mats beside her, Sabine reached to brush her hair out of the way, watching Bo-Katan as she rose and wiped the sweat from her brow. “All you have to do is make me.” When Bo-Katan rose next, she extended a hand down to the woman below her. “Show me…” A pause, like the woman was reconsidering this moment of vulnerability, even with the woman who had seen her through her worst times. “Show me the way, Wren.”

Something itched at the back of Sabine’s mind. The Jetti paired with Tristan’s ‘Ghost’ crew had mentioned the Force to her once, nothing but passing in an explanation of a blind man and his blue son, but from how her vod’ika had explained it, she could only consider it to the feeling of the Manda. When she reached to take Bo-Katan’s hand, there was a flash of the image, distorting in the Manda’s memory of gold and grey armor, reaching to take the blue gauntlet of the woman before her. 

Ursa Wren had once been this person for Bo-Katan Kryze, and she had met her end for it, at the hands of Moff Gideon. Bo was danger, she was carnage and blood and ruin. But Sabine always did have an affinity for volatile experiences and people. Ticking bombs were her specialty, and no matter how long the charge that was her Mand’alor lay dormant, Sabine was her mother’s daughter. She knew the risks, and the dangers that came with it, and time and time again, the Wren would follow the Owl to ruin. 

Sabine’s hand clasped in Bo-Katan’s as the image steadied, offering a stretch of her lips, a smile as she tugged Bo-Katan until their shoulders bumped. “Then let’s get to work, my lady.”

[sapphicsparkles]

thanks for the tag @soloorganaas ! 

share the last line you wrote in your wip:

"Hm?" Not quite the eloquent response of a Protector, but well, the Mand'alor was standing in front of her mostly naked with sex tousled hair, now looking back at the datapad.

"You're dismissed."

tagging @armoralor @treescape @intermundia @theseptemberist @kalevalakryze

[dootchster]

Can't believe we've literally gotten a repeat of Sabine's Darksaber storyline.

[mandogab]

Fenn Rau is dead? Right?

[asteroids-and-tractorbeams]

Soooooo are Mando clan colors just fanon or does Bo-Katan just still wear Nite Owl/Deathwatch colors instead of something related to her house or clan??

[chocobothis]

Etsy: Would you like a five dollar credit? It's you anniversary with the site.

Bo-Katan/Nite Owl things are really easy to find now. But, finding something with Fenn Rau/Journeyman Protectors of Concord Dawn? Unheard of. I love my Spicy Pilot so much even if I rarely post about it.

The coins are both far bigger than I imagined; like the size of my palm. I have to figure out how to best display them but I definitely want to get the ones with Hera and Kanan too.

Everything from SpectreSurplus on Etsy.

[welcometothevale]

My first tag dump/drop thingy lmao.

The ones with full sentences are dialogue from the book.

[uwingdispatch]

Protectors of Concord Dawn, anyone?

I rewatched Rebels recently and have been thinking of Fenn Rau and all the Mandalorian planets and systems we might end up visiting in The Mandalorian Season 3. And I’d love to see what Fenn Rau is up to these days, and whether The Protectors—who were once the Royal Guard—have rebuilt on the third moon of Concord Dawn or elsewhere.

Which is to say I made some Protectors baseball shirts. The Mando’a says THE MANDALORIAN PROTECTORS over the Protectors’ crest and two crescent moons. You can find them here. I hope you like them.

[h377b7iss]

.

[cherubfae]

jealous slashers~!✧

With Michael, Brahms, Jason, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Sawyer, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman

tags: gn!reader, jealousy, creepy men, unwanted attention/touching, uggestive and mature themes, gore/blood, violence, canon typical behavior, billy x reader x stu poly, rob zombie!mikey, I know Sal isn't exactly a slasher but he's my baby and needs to be included

Alexa, play Love to Die by the Slashstreet Boys

Michael

Rest in Peace to the poor, stupid man who thought it'd be a good idea to mess with the Shape's partner, and Michael had witnessed it all. How this man shoves you into an empty alleyway, the clatter of your groceries falling. The guy doesn't get much more than a few bruises and claw marks when Michael's knife slices through the back of the man's throat, protruding from the other end in a splash of blood. The Shape watches you wipe your bloody face off, not doing much but picking up three of your four fallen bags and tugging you into his side.

Brahms

Absolutely not. Brahms is fuckin' seething from his safe space sheltered behind the walls. Heavy breathing muffled by the porcelain mask, he watches with wild eyes as some idiot decides to break into the mansion whilst you were sleeping, and proceeds to hold you at knifepoint, effectively pinning you to the bed in what little nightclothes you wore. The unwanted guest and you are certainly going to know when Brahms is upset. There's banging on the walls coming from every direction that leaves the would-be burglar panicked and you slightly more comfortable.

"You're not allowed to be here," comes the eerily childlike voice Brahms has perfected. He crawls his way out from behind the large antique mirror. "I'll make sure you never come near them again." With a sudden slam, Brahms downs the intruder with a lead pipe repeatedly bashing the object until all that remains was brain matter and gooey blood. He drops the pipe with a huff and collects you into his arms, the cool porcelain biting onto the heat of your chest.

Jason

As the protector of the surrounding forest, Jason is always watching. He's omnipotent, he sees all. He seems to know where people are at all times and he can sense when you're in distress. Your shared cabin door left ajar sends his blood boiling and his heavy footfall increasing as he approaches your home. Barging in, Jason's pale eyes lock onto you and your assailant holding you by the throat. His thunderous steps are quick, slicing through the man with his machete and proceeds to lift him up while still pierced with the blade. The man gurgles, arms weakly reaching behind him in attempts to claw at Jason. All attempts were futile. He tossed the body to the side before he gently frets over you, his large hands soothing the fingerprints tarnishing your throat.

Billy & Stu

Rather snake-like the two will wrap themselves around you (they adore your personal space) and stare down whoever else demands your attention. Billy's arm hooks around your waist and Stu wraps himself around your shoulder, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Is this guy bothering you, baby?" Looking like a shark that's tasted blood in the water, Billy's eyes grow more wild. He's already making a mental note of who and where this guy lives. The guy raised his hands in defense backing down the more the two stared at him, walking off completely.

"We're gonna take care of him, doll," Billy promises, kissing your cheek. Stu cackles lightly, tongue sticking out. They would strike tonight.

Vincent

There's no one Vincent trusts more to watch over you when he can't than his own two brothers. He had his hands full, turning Dalton and Wade into wax people. Nick and Carly were proving to be hard to get a hold of and there was still another tourist that needed to be taken care of.

But then Bo is telling him that the person escaped and he doesn't know where you were. His two worst fears confirmed. Vincent is soon on a wild hunt, trying to find you anywhere with Bo hot on his heels. He soon locates you, passed out with a bit of blood on your head. Your eyes slowly open as he touches your cheek, catching you as you wobble into his warm embrace. He shares a look with Bo who nods.

"I've got you, brother. Keep them here with ya. Wait til I'm back, ya hear?"

Bo

Out in public, he's all cordial and kind smiles. Especially if this is an intended victim. Some random person putting the moves on his partner is a huge no-no and one Bo doesn't take lightly. That person just warranted themselves a for sure death sentence and Bo isn't feeling too kind, so perhaps he'll drag things out, yeah? Touch what's his and you got what's comin' to ya.

"Can I see, baby? That bastard leave any marks on ya?" Bo strokes your shoulders, blue eyes drifting over your frame like water. He has every intention of marking every place that person touched, no matter if you tell Bo the guy only grabbed your arm. Once he has his mind set on something, he's gonna do it.

Lester

Unlike his older twin brothers, Lester is actually pretty chill. Especially in comparison to Bo. He doesn't think much of the people he's helping get into Ambrose knowing full well it's their final destination and Vincent and Bo will take care of things as they always have. What he doesn't like is some dude making a pass at you right in front of him. Can't he see the engagement ring on your finger? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, watching with narrowed eyes as the small group heads towards the mechanic shop in search of a fan belt.

A familiar hand on his arm calms him down instantly. He turns to you and musters a weak smile as your hands slide around his torso from behind, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. "Y'alright?" Lester nods too quickly and unconvincingly, giving you a quick kiss. "Yeah, darl', always."

Thomas

Your partner is not unlike a bear, watching with wild eyes as one of Hoyt's new catches clasps onto you, their nails digging into your arms, and pinning you to the barbed fence. The cry of pain you let out has Tommy barreling towards you, chainsaw revving to life. A deep snarl echoes behind his mask and he wastes no time cutting down the poor soul with a single swipe of his motorized saw. Tommy turns it off and picks you up in his large arms as gently as he can. With his masked cheek leaning against yours, he carries you back towards the house. Mama Luda Mae will take a good look at you.

Sal Fisher

Honestly Sal isn't one to get jealous. He's pretty level-headed and understanding in most situations. He respects your choices and he's not gonna step on any toes or do anything drastic; Sal isn't a monster. However, if he sees some guy make a creepy pass at you and clearly overstep your boundaries, he won't hesitate to swoop in, looping his arm around your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes staring at the man from behind his prosthetic mask.

"Do we have a problem here?" His voice is cold, lacking any interest in what excuse the man finds. Sal's main focus will be on you, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. His main priority is to get you away from this sicko and would totally call in reinforcements from his brother Larry if need be.

Patrick

A jealous Patrick Bateman isn't a good scenario for anyone. Especially not with his deteriorating mental state. He trusts you explicitly, with his thoughts, ideas, and recreational hobbies that most would find distasteful. So when a colleague of his gets too big for his britches and unabashedly begins to flirt with you in his presence, Patrick finds it difficult to keep his boiling bloodlust at bay. The heat of his anger is getting to his head, the fierce emotions only swelling well it's clear how uncomfortable you look in that man's company. He must see to put an end to him quickly.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Are you alright, my darling? That man surely didn't know his place, did he?" Patrick places a hand at your back, guiding you out of the office party. "Let's get you home and into a nice hot bath, hmm? I'd rather not taste that swine on your lovely skin."

[phntmeii]

Hil

Im not sure if your taking requests for writing, but if you are I was wondering if you could do a slashers × S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet, short and small, like she looks petite and fragile but it turns out she can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the slasher.

If you could specifically add Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, (NBC) Hannibal and Will, and maybe Thomas Hetwit?

Sorry I don't know if that's too much to ask for, I just love your writing so much!

Being Stronger than Slashers .

[ SFW + Fem Terms]

Pairings: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Thomas Hewitt x petite!strong!Reader General Warnings: Descriptions of Gore/Blood, Violence, Slightly OOC, Descriptions of panic attack/episode, Manipulative behavior mention

A/N: ty anon for request <33 Back to slashers :) Sad I haven’t posted more of them literally in Halloween month but I’m working on it (last second lol) </33

Bo Sinclair

Absolutely turned on to the fucking max when he sees your strength.

Small, sweet partners was always his type. He just loves fulfilling the typical male stereotype of being a protector over his partner.

When he turned the corner, looking to finish off the last victim of the lot within his abandoned town, only to see something better.

He watched as you effortlessly were carrying the body of the victim over your shoulder like it was nothing. Head completely caved in, more of a mass of flesh and blood than an identifiable person. Your other hand held a bloodied hammer.

Bo was completely still, but not of fear. He was standing there like a man who had completely re-fallen in love again.

His eyes were shining as his grin grew wide. Approaching, he was nothing but prideful.

His voice was light with a chuckle, thumb brushing away the blood on your cheek. “Shit, sweetheart… Never knew a pretty girl like you was so… strong. I love it.”

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent was overprotective a lot of the time. He was insistent you were never near his work nor would you be involved when victims were in town.

He loved you too much to have you a part of him and his brothers’ work.

Vincent was slightly startled, hearing the door of his studio open. He knew both his brothers were out.

Seeing it was you, he approached, silently looking down at you. You could tell there was an air of disappointment at you being in his studio when he didn’t want you to be.

A ragged, strained voice spoke from behind his mask, “Why?”

With a shrug of your shoulders and a smile, you walked past him, further into the studio. “Bo said he needed a box in here.”

Watching you walk past, his eyes were hidden but widened as he watched you easily lift up a heavy table to look under it, scrolling past the items underneath it.

He approached confused but didn’t stop you. “Oh! Here it is!” Your arms held up a filled box of tools and parts.

Vincent followed you around curiously for the rest of the day like a shadow. He was completely fascinated by your strength, wanting to see it again.

Once you returned from helping Bo, Vincent couldn't let go of you. He kept his arms around you, head on your shoulder. His quiet, strained voice simply said, "Show me again... Please?"

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal always held an air of curiosity about you. Your sweet nature was like an untainted part of his life. A woman so far from himself.

Hannibal’s curiosity was never-ending. He took advantage of his intelligence to learn as much as he could. Stalking, Manipulative behaviors in “therapy”, etc.

You were almost always at his place. He liked it better that way although it provided some maintenance when it came to his extracurricular activities.

Hannibal had been making another of his fancy dinners for the two of you. The presentation had to be precise and perfect. Presentation was half the work for him.

He absentmindedly spoke while you were cutting vegetables beside him, “I have not set the chairs. I will do so in a moment, my love.”

Immediately, you wanted to assist. You always liked helping out. “I’ve got it!”

Watching you walk away, he expected to finish his current task before going off to assist you. Instead, he looked up to the doorway to see you easily walking past with a heavy wooden chair in each hand, easily carrying the two like they were just a stack of papers.

A small smirk curled at his lips as his hands slowed in their work. He whispered to himself, knowing his eager curiosity was not wasted, “You are… a delight, my love. You will make for something truly wonderful.”

Will Graham

Will was someone who was vigilant and aware. His mind always raced a million miles an hour with tiny observations and connections.

There was something about you but he just couldn’t place it.

But, what was there to prove? You were sweet and kind, seeming so far from what he knew. That was part of why he held love for you—You weren’t him.

Will was in his head again, silently panicked by his own mind. It was torturous to live in a prison of his own violent thoughts.

You were someone who always noticed. Always could pick up when these episodes started.

Holding his hands and speaking sweetly to him to draw him back to reality, unfortunately, wasn’t working this time.

His eyes kept darting back and forth while his breath quickened. With him standing still, quivering, you had to make the choice.

With simple ease, you picked Will up bridal style, walking away with him.

It took him a moment to realize what happened, breaking out of being inside his head. His eyes just stared at you when he was placed onto his bed, sweat drenching his forehead.

He broke out into a small smile, absentmindedly licking his lips, as was his habit. "I... didn't know you could do that."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"No. It's... really attractive, actually."

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy was always a protector. Toward his family, it was evident. A given. Toward you, it was an inherent need.

The last thing he'd ever want is for you to be hurt, especially when victims come around.

He would lead you and Luda Mae into a room, having you two barricade it while him and Hoyt took care of the unfortunate victims who made their way to the wrong home.

You waited, albeit anxiously. And it only grew once you heard a loud thud followed by Hoyt's yelling.

"Goddammit, Tommy! The fuck are you doin'?"

Immediately you knew something went wrong. Despite Luda Mae trying to keep you in the room, you ripped away the makeshift barricade on the door and rushed out.

Tommy was on all fours, holding the side of his head. A man, you assumed one of the few victims, held a hammer in his hand. He quivered holding it, as if horrified by his own self-defense.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest chair, pulling back and cracking it hard against the man. Aimed for his head, he dropped to the floor unconscious by the impact.

You rushed over to Tommy's side, panicked. "Tommy! Tommy! God- Are you okay?"

His arm just instinctively shot out and held you to his body, protecting you in his mind. He opened his eyes and looked past you to see the victim with broken wooden pieces of the chair on top of him.

With his mask on, his expression was hidden. But inside, his heart warmed at how you were strong enough to protect him too. His own protector.

[flowersforchoso]

Bi-han Marriage Headcanons

he takes his role as your husband seriously. perhaps a little too seriously

since he is a traditional man and a bit sexist, expect a very traditional marriage with you relegated to the domestic sphere

he goes straight home after completing his duties as grandmaster. there's no lingering. no extra hours. no night out with anyone. his routine is simple: work, then home & vice-versa.

strictly refers to you as wife while pet names are more of your thing

going out on dates is a rare occurrence (you'd have to bring it up) and when you do, he takes you to a restaurant or festival.

he is not too keen on pda; even holding hands is an issue that makes one wonder how you got together, but he insists you stay close beside him.

in short, he's very much reserved when you're both out in public because he doesn't want to give the impression that he's softened.

but he takes good care of you. being a man of actions afterall.

and since he's your provider & protector, its only right that he excels at it by meeting your material and physical needs

massages are a thing. he does it to help you relax since you always do that whenever he's stressed. starts with your feet, a little tease here and there then it turns into body worship, and ends with you on your back

also bathing together is a must when he's not too busy. its bonding time and wants to spend it refreshed

when you become pregnant, his care intensifies

he takes care of everything around the house, from cooking to cleaning (he's not above doing chores), not allowing you lift a finger

at first, he didn't know how to cook outside of making soup, but he likes to challenge himself. so he gets recipes from madame bo and follows through on them

surprisingly, the meals turn out great

he's much more present at home since he delegated his tasks to be able to spend more time with you

and after you give birth, this doesn't change.

he was with you all through. giving words of encouragement during that agonizing time

the baby is here and he never lets go. whether its a girl or boy, the gender matters not. he cares for the little one so much that he only ever hands them over to you when its time to feed.

if you're having issues with your self-esteem or health like postpartum depression, he will be by your side tending to you. bathe and feed you; if you found it difficult to do basic care. he's worried but would not allow his face betray such emotion.

aids you back to health. you would have to convince him you are well enough to care for yourself, but he would keep monitoring you just to be sure, before leaving to attend to other things.

he is very caring towards you and ensures you're always comfortable.

your marriage is relatively peaceful but that doesn't mean its devoid of conflict

and since bi han is quite stubborn, that would be the source of any rift between the both of you—his obstinacy

it happens every time you express your dissatisfaction with his prioritisation of the lin kuei. they took precedence over his family, making him unavailable and unattending to your emotional needs, which he takes offence to. because they were accusations, and no matter how soft and placating your delivery was, he didn't appreciate it, even if it was true

he makes a big deal out of being told not to take on dangerous missions when he returns injured, which leads to full blown arguments because he considers it infantilizing. he doesn't want to be babied; he commands hundreds. what kind of leader would he be if he didn't take charge of his fleet?

bi han would leave the house for days on end and when he gets back, he's still passive aggressive towards you.

because of this, you give him space but it only worsens his attitude—he doesn't want you to impose distance on him.

he is the classic example of not wanting to be paid back in the same coin. his attitude towards you might be nasty, but don't you dare retaliate

and he doesn't apologize either. it can be frustrating putting up with him.

you'd need to be patient, understanding and respectful of his role as grandmaster because thats a position he's trained all his life for. its a touchy subject. don't try to make him choose between the lin kuei or you

you'd have to extend the olive branch first by apologizing because the tension would be too much to bear

it'll take a while for normalcy to return with bi han coming to you (he's very prideful so don't rush anything)

he'll get you things of sentimental value like a trinket, or a necklace or a bracelet—this is his way of saying sorry

make up sex would be much more passionate because he needs to connect with you again. fighting puts a strain on the relationship no matter how little and makes his insecurities rear its head, one of which is the fear that you might leave him someday and go be with someone else. he doesn't want that, he wants to retrace his steps and do right by you.

it's at this point that he verbally professes his love for you to assuage whatever negative feelings you might harbor and since he rarely ever say the words, they are much more valued

overall, being married to him would be very fulfilling. nothing too crazy or difficult to navigate

[sassy-cass-16]

Oh god I promised myself no bell’s hells meta until c3 ends but my brain is turning the “can she be trusted?” line over and over like chicken at the shawarma shop. because there are layers to that.

more under the cut because i let this run away from me:

so first off, there's the obvious: dorian initially seems to start to address the whole group, everyone who's left in the inn room, but turns and just locks eyes with orym when he asks. orym, who of everyone has the most reason to be biased against laudna right now. orym, who just got into a fight with laudna over the sword that killed both of them and orym's husband and father-in-law. that's who dorian thinks to ask, because he trusts orym not to let his judgment be clouded.

dorian first saw orym again after months of being separated, like, three days ago, and despite how much orym has visibly changed in those months, dorian doesn't hesitate to believe that orym will still be objective. he trusts that orym will be the one to look at this situation and tell him the truth.

because dorian has experience with orym telling him the truth. dorian knows firsthand how willing orym is to shuck his personal feelings in favour of what's true. dorian just saw what he could have become, had orym not stepped in to stop him taking the circlet of barbed vision. he owes the fact that he's alive and beholden to no gods to orym's willingness to be rational and objective in a situation involving a powerful magical item. by his own admission, "i wouldn't be here without you."

so of course dorian trusts him right now.

and there's something to the exclusion of the others, with that. dorian doesn't look to fearne and orym, although that would make sense because he's known the two of them the longest. he doesn't look to chetney, who's proven to be able to get a handle on this with the scream needle compromise. he doesn't look to ashton, who's been extremely levelheaded through this whole mess. he looks at orym, exclusively. he is asking orym, exclusively. not the group, although everyone decides to jump in to answer and then imogen comes through the window to complicate the matter. just orym.

dorian is the kind of person with a lot of potential for darkness in him. he hides it well because he's also deeply kind and friendly, but it's always been there. he's just been through something massively traumatic, and that was after the original circlet conflict back in exu prime. he had his alignment forcibly changed from good to neutral. but even after all he's gone though, orym's alignment is still good.

as much as orym doesn't want to be a leader and prefers to be a protector and follower, he does very well in situations where he takes on an amount of responsibility. when he's in some level of control over a situation, he takes to it naturally. he's a very good babysitter to his gaggle of weirdos. the "can she be trusted?" might have been an attempt on dorian's part to give orym a bit more control here. to reassure him that regardless of anyone else's feelings—regardless of how laudna's reaction might have affected him—orym deserves to be trusted, and he can make a decision that dorian will trust.

back in exu and all the way into early c3, dorian and orym slotted into a sort of parental position in their groups. watching over the crownkeepers' clothes when they went skinny dipping in exu. orym repeatedly steering everybody away from bad ideas. matt even described dorian leaving dariax in zephrah in 4sd as "dad just going out to get cigarettes." there's always been that underlying sense of "we are two of a pair" with dorian and orym. not to say that either of them don't see the others as adults, but they do have that rapport of being the babysitters in the gaggle of weirdos.

that kind of bond is just part of their dynamic. but especially in light of what's been happening while they were separated, and then what happened between them earlier that evening, "can she be trusted?" is a reminder of that bond. orym's been lonely, by his own admission, and one of the secrets he divulged at nana morri's was "i really miss dorian." he broke down crying during his last message through the sending stone, and then again on the bench not a few hours before this whole incident went down.

dorian came to comfort him. he flat-out said to orym's face "i'm here now." he reminded orym that he needs to rely on other people, that he can't always be the one saving everybody else. he gave orym the room to not be the strong one, and told him he has that room because dorian's there to support him. they can be two of a pair again.

he knows orym's been feeling like he can't do anything, like he had to resort to what he stopped dorian from doing with the circlet. and so dorian both gives him a choice to make, something to do, and shows him that he still trusts him unconditionally. "can she be trusted?" also means "i trust you" and "i'm here with you" and "this is how we've always been."

we know from liam in 4sd that orym has feelings for dorian that he's not sure are reciprocated. but even regardless of the romantic element here, dorian and orym have always had a partnership. they have always been two of a pair. the sequence of events leading to "can she be trusted?" is a perfect microcosm of he relationship between the two of them. it's just incredible.