#If Dune was frozen over

[virtuosen]

A soft sound echoes in the air--was that the squeak of a meek little mouse, or perhaps a fair maven's sneeze? Sona wouldn't tell.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.

Words: 2650

Notes/Warnings: Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Angst but also fluffy-ish stuff. Implied smut. Mention of pregnancy. I think that’s it. TG:M people ignore me. I don’t know what I’m doing here either, but i'm embracing it for now. 

Part 2

When your brother pierced through armor into pale flesh, you felt it as if he had driven that blade into your body instead of the body of the man you love. You felt the shock of icy steel penetrating warm and delicate tissue, and the suffocation that came from the mutilation of your lung. You felt droplets of blood run down your front as you reached for the blade that was not there. As children, you were taught not to remove it. Not unless sufficient care was nearby to stop the bleeding before too much was lost.

Paul did not respect that knowledge. He yanked his knife out of Feyd’s torso and watched with relief as he collapsed to the ground. His body landed with a thud that matched the heavy beat of your heart. A beat that reminded you your blood was rushing strong, keeping you alive while your lover was draining dry of the strength to keep himself from leaving this world, from leaving you. 

You wailed in the silence of those around you. Screamed at the top of your lungs as tears streamed down your face. You tried to go to him but the Fremen snatched you before you could reach him, forcing you to your knees, one of them slapping a hand over your mouth. This was not the time for hysterical outbursts; it was a time to stare in awe as a new leader accepted his victory and claimed power over the emperor and his daughter. 

“Shut up, girl,” a male voice spit in your ear. He was tired of the struggle you were putting up against the hand squeezing your face. You were ruining his opportunity to witness a beautiful moment in history. A defining moment. A moment you didn’t give two fucks about. 

No one spared you a glance save for the witch whose vibrant eyes were drilling into the side of your skull. A woman your father had instructed you receive as a stepmother following your third birthday. A manipulative woman whose smile in front of the Duke had masked the scowl permanently seared onto her face when looking at you—a decades-long act that the capture and death of your father had freed her from. And she’d wasted not a second displaying her distaste for his daughter. 

Not long ago you'd thought to thank Lady Jessica for not loving you. Her lack of love made her so terribly desperate to rid herself of you that when cornered the night your family was attacked, she’d thrown you right into the arms of the Harkonnens—a fate she believed would destroy you rather than thrust you into a life you would come to cherish.

“A gift for you, nephew,” the baron had said after the fighting ceased and the soldiers, with you in their grasp, had returned to their unfamiliar home.

Feyd-Rautha had not rushed when he descended the staircase and approached you for the first time. His eyes were unblinking as he’d taken in his present; a slow drawl from head to toe that sent shivers down your spine. 

“An Atreides,” Feyd had said in a low voice, deep and thick and eerily lovely.

The baron’s voice did not contain the same appeal. “Yes. Do you like it? A new pet for you to ruin.”

You’d stood frozen as Feyd traced a knuckle down your cheek before grasping your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip. He’d possessed not a lick of shame when his index finger drew a line from the dip of your throat to your cleavage. There had been no consideration for your feelings when he tucked that same finger between your breasts and the neckline of your nightgown and lightly tugged you forward. 

You had gasped with your stumble, your hands pressing against his chest to catch your fall while he smirked at the blush tinting your cheeks. His tongue then darted out to dampen his lips before he moved his hand to the curve of your waist and squeezed. 

“Perfect,” He’d said, not in a loud declaration of appreciation, but in a tone meant for your ears only. Then he’d grabbed you by the wrist and led you to his chambers.

When the door had slammed behind you after you were jerked inside the room, you were suddenly filled to the brim with panic. You’d heard the rumors. What would he do to you? How would he do it? Would you suffer long? 

A tear had slipped down your cheek that, once noticed, was brushed away with his thumb. 

“Do not worry yourself unnecessarily.”

You’d swallowed, stuttering, “Wh-What do you mean?”

He’d pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing pale skin taught over defined, well-trained muscle. Then he’d stepped into your space, inching you backward until your spine was flush with the wall. He’d fisted the flimsy, nearly see-through fabric of your nightgown in his hand and slowly dragged it up your body until fingers could sneak under the hem to graze your inner thigh.

You’d sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable waves of heat that rippled from his touch.

“Atreides or not, you’re much too precious to ruin the way my uncle suggests,” he had said, his lips a hair's-width away from yours. “I've been looking for you for so long. You're mine now, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

He hadn’t loved your hesitation—you could see it in his eyes and in the downturn of his lips—but he was satisfied when you’d truthfully said:

“No.” Because you weren’t. Not after he had brushed that tear off of your cheek.

His next question had caused your heart to skip a beat from the concoction of emotions it shot through you. Fear of the unknown mixed with unexpected excitement.

“Have you done this before?” 

You’d shaken your head and in response he lightly nodded, his nose nudging yours. 

“You want to?” he’d asked, hiking your leg up to his hip, and you found yourself nodding as well. “I won’t make it hurt.”

You’d replied with a soft “Ok” before accepting his kiss with as much fervor as he was giving it, thankful that what you’d imagined was awaiting you upon your arrival in foreign territory was far from what you were receiving. 

Days later, when you had mentioned that he did not live up to the rumors of his cruelty extending to all areas of his life, he’d hummed. Said, “I make many bleed, and enjoy it. I feed off of their pain. Those who have been in my bed are not spared this, and it will not be uncommon for you to see me stained with the death of others, including my former pets.” 

He’d paused then, allowing you a moment to question your future as one of those pets, if that's what he considered you.

“But I have been searching for something that I’ve wanted for a very long time,” he’d said. “Something that hasn't existed within these walls. Something I will never want to harm. Something…soft…and sweet,” he had admitted to your surprise.

He’d then told you that you were that sweet thing. That he’d known it from the moment he saw you. That he was choosing you. 

But it was a choice that had its repercussions. 

All things must have balance, and you had tipped the scales. From his gentleness toward you, a darker, more gruesome beast emerged when facing off with others. A brutal warrior who never surrendered and never lost. A sadistic man who showed no mercy to the opponents whose blood you would later wash from his body. He had annihilated his previous reputation as just the famed killer of Geidi Prime and evolved into something more, all because of you.

That was why you thought he would win against Paul. Your brother was skilled, but the universe had long known the name Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen for his prowess in combat and his ruthlessness which had only grown with time. 

So why was it not your brother on the floor with his love sobbing and struggling to reach him?

In the thirteen days since your lover’s death, it is that question that has robbed you of all peace. 

Despite your brother having escorted you back to Caladan for the time being, you find no sense of home or happiness in your birthplace. You walk the beaches and fields that, as a child, you dreaded one day leaving, but they are not the same. Nearly a year has gone by since you were last here, however, so much of what you once loved about this planet is overshadowed by the shattered heart caused by Feyd's death. 

When you were young, your father would often express his wishes for your future. He would paint a beautiful image of you bringing your children to play in the gardens of your childhood home, carefree and unburdened. It was a source of comfort that he used to mask the reminder of your duty as an Atreides: that you would not be marrying and having children out of love, you would marry in the name of peace and produce heirs in the name of security. And it seems in the end, he was right.

With Feyd unable to claim you, Paul will be the one to secure new arrangements for your future, which just so happens to greatly fare in his favor. After all, he just declared war, and you are the ripened political pawn at his disposal.

“Are you well?”

You turn as sharply as you can at the intrusive voice, but the uncomfortable skirts of your dress are thick and stiff, restricting your movements. Feyd never made you wear anything like this and you forgot what it's like to be weighed down by layers of fabric. You fucking hate it.

Paul stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back and a light smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he joins you on the balcony attached to your old room. 

“I know we haven’t spoken much about what’s to come. I’m sure you’ve been curious,” he says. 

You shrug, shake your head, and return your gaze to the horizon where ocean meets sky. 

“We have matters to discuss.”

Matters such as where he will be sending you off to be married, you imagine. He must act quickly if he intends to establish and gain control over house alliances, since they weren't overly enthusiastic about accepting him as their leader.

“Let's sit down,” he tells you. He grasps your hand before you can object and guides you to one of the balcony benches. Once you’re settled, he takes a seat beside you and says, “I am going to ask you something. And I want honesty.”

You sigh. “What?”

“When you were with the Harkonnens for those many months, were you treated like a slave as I had feared, or were you something far from it?”

Your eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it’s important,” Paul states, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the way you wept over him after we fought, and how he denied every offer I made in exchange for your release…” With his pause, he shakes his head. “I thought maybe he had messed with your mind, confused you, and that was why you were so hysterical over his loss…but that’s not right, is it.”

“Paul–”

“Does he love you?”

It takes conscious effort to keep your body from shifting uncomfortably. “What is it to you?”

“He survived his wounds,” Paul says. 

The casualness with which he shares that news heavily contrasts everything that runs through you. Your heart stops. Your lips part, unsuccessful in drawing in oxygen. Your eyes no longer see anything but Feyd’s face as it flashes in front of you. The way he looked when he last smiled at you. The way he looked the last time he came inside of you. The look of him when he died—or almost died. Death had been there, looming over him. 

You’re trying to will away the tears. Paul is watching you too closely. “Wh–What?” you say.

“He’s alive, and he is demanding you be returned to him,” he informs you. “So, tell me: is he truly threatening me so aggressively over one of his ‘pets’? Or is he threatening me to get back the woman he loves?” 

The woman he loves. You never imagined yourself in a situation where your brother would ask if a member of a centuries-long rival house loves you. But then again, you never imagined a member of a centuries-long rival house loving you to begin with.

You remember the night he told you. It was late and your bodies were bare after having bathed together. You were searching for your nightgown when he said “Come to bed, my love.” 

You sighed, defeated. He’d called you that before, but whether it was real or not was such a mystery and it hurt your heart a little bit more each time. “You shouldn’t call me your love unless you mean it,” you finally told him. 

You heard his footsteps when he stood from the bed. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Why would I call you that if I do not mean it?” he asked. Then he hummed and said “You know me better than that, my love” before dipping his head lower and nipping the shell of your ear with his teeth. 

So yes, he loved you—loves you. But there’s something in Paul’s voice as he asks you that question that gives you pause. It’s too gentle as if luring you into a false sense of security. The Harkonnens are not known for their capacity to love, and Feyd loving you could be seen as a weakness; his one vulnerable spot.

As monotone as you can manage, you reply, “If you’re being threatened you should just send me back and be done with it. I know you have more important things to worry about.”

Paul’s lips thin in disappointment. “I can’t send you back,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Because I believe he loves you. And I need to see how far a Harkonnen is willing to bend for an Atreides,” he says. “If he wants you back, he will have to be open to negotiations.”

You stand sharply, take a few steps from him, and blow out a heavy breath through your nose. You were told your brother changed after drinking that magic water and it shows. Holding you hostage for political gain is not the same as marrying you off. 

“I would like to be done with this conversation,” you say with a huff.

“I understand,” he replies, so you turn to enter your bedroom. But before you’re fully through the door, he says, “There’s more, though.”

You freeze. 

“I had a dream,” he says, his voice coming closer. “There was a boy, no more than five years old. He had your features and your hair but his skin was of the same paleness as the Harkonnens.”  

Sucking in a breath, you brace yourself with a hand gripping the door’s frame. 

“You’re pregnant, sister,” he tells you, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. “But I'm very glad to know that the heir of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is a product of love rather than an unfortunate incident,” he says. “Additional incentive, should it be necessary.”    

In your shock, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t need you to. You can see his smirk in your peripherals, then he pushes off the frame and heads toward the main door of your room. 

“Try to get some rest, sister,” he calls over his shoulder. “You really shouldn't be on your feet too long.”

[fastlikealambo]

holy crowns || paul atreides x black! reader

summary: it was supposed to be your sister, your bene gesserit trained sister molded by the great houses, spy for the imperium. with no warning, paul chooses you instead and changes your life forever. some call him messiah, others an abomination, but you will call him husband.this will be a multi chapter work and 18+only. note: hello! this takes place after the events of dune part two and Paul is about to become emperor. Irulan and her father are in exile and Chani is gone. thank you for reading! if you wish to see the story continue on beyond this chapter, please comment or reblog!

@drunkennunicornn

@fanfiction-addict22

@wonderpals02

@qveendiorsworld

@turn-thy-paige

@hoyoooo

@oscarissac2099

@inesven

@blahzaiblahsheep

CHAPTER ONE

THE MUAD'DIB CHOOSES A BRIDE.

Blood and roses.

     “I told you to be careful.” Your sister chided in a motherly tone, despite being only one year older than you, handing you a small handkerchief. With a mouthful of pins, you uttered a small sound of gratitude and used your non-injured hand to finish the task of placing metal rose hair pins in her braided crown. You’d be in Arrakis in less than an hour but your sister wanted her last precious moments alone to be with you.

    “There, done.  My sister, the jewel of the outer world and now Arrakis, I still can’t believe this is happening. Do you think he will be kind?” You asked, straightening up to face your sister in the mirror.

 You shared the same deep brown skin and nose of your father but that was where the similarities ended. Both of your mothers had been models of the Bene Gesserit order but only one of your mothers had been made wife of a Duke, and the other a concubine, no less loved.

Until your mother passed, leaving you alone to face rumors of her madness. As you grew so did the stories of the concubine who lost her way and denied herself spice and in turn, denied you of a mother and the protection of the order that trained her and your sister.

     “Paul Atreides is an abomination, a tainted nova and your sister will make him anew, his kindness is of no importance. You may go, your sister and I need to speak.”  Reverend Mother Mohiam said from her place in the doorway.

    “I only need a few more minutes with my sister Reverend Mother, we’re nearly ready.” Your sister said, hand in yours.

GO.

A thousand and one tiny cuts into your brain, you found yourself outside of your sister’s room frozen in place.

  You still remember the day Reverend Mother came to take your sister away to train under the sisterhood.You made the mistake asking why, why could you not go together.

    “You carry your mother’s agony. You are not sufficient, there is no bite within you, human child. My order has no need of sentient infirmity.”

The Reverend Mother was correct.

What was to be your life after your sister was gone?

Where would your path lead?

There was no place for agony among the stars.

The heat of Arrakis resembled a distraught lover, sloppy kisses of sweat covered your body, the breeze that accompanied the opening of your ship doors held no comfort. 

You stood behind your sister, poised to pick up the train of her gown the moment your house would disembark the ship but for some reason, no one could leave yet.

Over her shoulder, your sister smiled, stretching her hand behind her back for you one last time. Yet before you could take it, your sister froze, a sudden faraway look in her eyes. Through your veil you watched her eyes widen, her hands clenched into fists. 

    “He’s coming here! The Muad'Dib is boarding the ship!”  A guard whispered fiercely to another.

No one seemed to notice what was happening but before you took a step towards your sister, her gaze was fixed on you. Despite the heat, you were freezing beneath her stare, unsure if it was your sister or the Bene Gesserit acolyte looking upon you.

The sound of marching feet and chanting distracted you both and all aboard the ship including fell to their knees, the Reverend Mother the only exception. You stood with the others, eyes to the floor, hands shaking as someone made their way down the line, your father making introductions as an attempt at conversation but there was only silence in return.

 You waited for the footsteps to end at your sister but they continued on, barely masked gasps filled the now crowded ship and a pair of boots entered your line of vision.

REMOVE YOUR VEIL. 

The trembling in your fingers instantly vanished and with otherworldly precision, you removed the veil from your face, the silk sliding down the back of your braids and to the floor.

The Muad’Dib was looking at you. 

      “Her.”

One by one, every Feydakin behind him took a knee and your house got over their confusion quickly, copying the motion, your sister, eyes wet, included. 

Paul Atreides bowed before you, blue within blue eyes never leaving yours.

      “Welcome to Arrakis.”

That’s our first chapter, I hope you like it! If you would like to see chapter two, please interact with this chapter, comment or reblog! Thank you for reading. 

[hepburnswan]

beach party

🌸 pt 2 of you are kenough 🌸

pairing: ken x reader

summary: in which barbie finally leaves the dreamhouse and goes to the beach, only to find a surprise waiting for her there

warnings: fluff, some romantic undertones 🥴 , super corny ending

word count: 1.8k

authors note: soooo here is pt 2, hope ur all excited 😁😁 the ending is super corny and sounded better in my head lmao, let me know if yall want part 3 !!

It was time.

Time to get out of the house and head down to the beach!

Though you were a little nervous, you were definitely anxious to get out of the dreamhouse. You took extra care to get all dolled up (see what I did there 😁) for your grand appearance. You decided to leave your hair down, and put on your favorite bikini, along with a matching coverup, beach bag and sunglasses. Then, you were ready to head out.

Little did you know there was a surprise waiting for you..

It was already a little later in the day, you had taken some time to yourself after your conversation with Ken, but better late then never.

By the time you pulled up to the beach in your pink convertible, the sun was already beginning to set and there was no one to be found.

You groaned in disappointment. Had everyone really gone home?

It was fine. After all, you had gotten used to being alone. It couldn’t hurt to hang out for just a little while.

You got out of the car and stepped down the sand dunes down to the beach, setting your bag down and sitting down next to it. You felt weird though- almost as if you were being watched? No, that was impossible. There was no one here!

You could only sit still for a little while before paranoia began to set in. You kept hearing sounds, almost like whispers, but convinced yourself it was just your imagination. You stood up, about to turn around and head back to your car when suddenly a voice shouted, “NOW!”

You were frozen in shock as confetti and the sound of noisemakers filled the air, and barbies and kens emerged from seemingly nowhere - behind trees and cars and buildings, and at the very front of the crowd was Ken - and well, another Ken, holding a giant banner that read,

WELCOME BACK BARBIE

In a matter of seconds, you were surrounded by your fellow barbies, being hugged, and petted and told how much you had been missed by them.

“Surprise!” President Barbie said excitedly.

“We’re so glad you’re feeling better!” said physicist Barbie.

“What .. what is this?” You smiled, dizzy with both joy and confusion.

“Okay, quiet down everyone!” Ken shouts, and the crowd hushes.

“Barbie,” he says chivalrously. “We wanted to show how much we care about you,” he smiles, and you blush.

“So, in honor of your return to the Barbieland party scene, we decided to throw you the best. Beach Party. EVER!” he yells, and the crowd cheers.

Your hand is over your mouth in shock as the girls around you giggle excitedly.

“So?” Are you ready?” President Barbie asks, and the crowd anxiously waits for your answer.

“YES!”

The crowd screams with excitement, and the party begins!

The party was spectacular, and continued to be as the night went on. Everybody - and I mean everybody - had shown up to celebrate. Even Weird Barbie was there, and Mermaid Barbie and Merman Ken would pop out of the water every now and then to wave to you and the rest of the partygoers.

You were sitting with a group of other barbies, gossiping and sipping on imaginary tropical drinks. “So who’s idea was this party, anyways?” you ask.

“Oh, it was Ken’s, actually!” says Diplomat Barbie, nodding towards where he sat in the distance.

Really? Ken had planned all of this .. for you?

“He .. he did?”

“Yeah!”

“Of course, we were eager to help!” President Barbie chimes in. You smile to yourself.

Meanwhile, Ken sat on a quiet corner of the beach with a few of the other kens, just chatting about horses, when his eyes fell upon you. He gazed in awe of how the other barbies fawned over you like you were some sort of princess. That was fair, you definitely looked like one, he thought. It was then, when he noticed a beauty in you that he hadn’t noticed before. Huh, he thought.

“Uh, Barbie?” Author Barbie asks.

“Hm?” you smile.

“There’s one more thing,” she says, handing you a pink envelope, which smelled of vanilla. You accept it, holding it for a second, confused.

“Barbie couldn’t make it tonight, but she left this behind for you before she left,” President Barbie says softly.

“Ah,” you reply.

You immediately knew which Barbie she had been referring to.

Stereotypical Barbie, or Blondie, as you called her, had left for the real world a few days earlier. She had been one of your best friends in Barbieland, if not your very best, and though you had supported her in her decision to leave, you already missed her horribly.

“We meant to give it you sooner, but.. we weren’t able to because, well, we didn’t see you much these past few days…” Doctor barbie says, looking at you sympathetically. “But we thought now would be a good time!”

You nod in understanding and open up the envelope to find the note written inside. You pull it out, and after a deep breath, you read.

Dear Barbie,

I’m writing this as I’m getting ready to leave for the real world, and I want you to know a few things. One, don’t you worry, I’ll be back to visit! And more importantly, two, I want you to know how perfect and amazing you are! You’re one of my very best friends and I am going to miss you so so much. You are kind and beautiful, just as any barbie should be, and don’t you ever forget it. Don’t let any ken or any barbie bring you down, ever. Keep making Barbieland a better place, the way I know you can, and know that I will do my best to do the same in the real world. I love you so very much!

Lots of love,

Blondie <3

P.S. Keep an eye on Ken for me. Maybe you two can keep each other company ;)

You blushed at the last sentence. What on earth did she mean by that?

Nonetheless, you appreciated the kind words from your best friend, and put the note back inside its envelope and slipped it into your beach bag. You decided to get up and clear your head a little, and bid goodbye to the other girls, heading down to stand by the plastic waves alone. You thought of Barbie’s letter, especially that last sentence. She couldn’t have meant…No! Absolutely not. But that must’ve been what she meant! No, don’t flatter yourself! She probably just meant in a friendly way! But the wink.. the wink! That wink had to be suggesting something!

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t sense the presence behind you. Not until he tapped you on the shoulder, and you turned around to face Ken himself.

Without thinking, you manage to stutter a “H-Hi Ken!”

“Hi Barbie .. you feeling okay? Is it the party? Are you overwhelmed?” he asks sweetly.

“No, no! I’m sorry. It’s just, you just.. startled me there.” you reply, calming your voice down. “The party’s great, actually. I heard you planned it, is that true?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods shyly.

“How long have you been planning this? There’s no way you could have pulled this all together in just a few hours!”

He says nothing, just mock-shrugs and smiles.

“Oh my god, really? But how?”

“I have my ways,” he smirks.

“Ken… you really went through all of this.. for me?”

“Of course, Barbie,” he blushes. “After all, you deserve it. And I figured it was the least I could do to make it up to you. To all of you.”

You grin from ear to ear, pulling him into a hug.

“I knew you hadn’t changed.”

After pulling away from your hug, Ken had an idea. Though you had already reassured him that he was already enough, that he didn’t have to do anything to impress anyone, including you, he figured there was no harm in trying. Just for fun.

“Hey Barbie, wanna see something cool?” He says excitedly.

“Uh .. sure? What?”

“Watch this!” he grins, before suddenly disappearing to god knows where. A minute later he returned, carrying his surfboard under his arm.

“Oh Ken, no.. I don’t think you should.. remember last time?” you pleaded.

“Relax, Barbie. I got this,” he says reassuringly, before shouting, “HEY EVERYBODY! CHECK ME OUT!” eliciting an exceedingly large amount of gasps and murmurs for the rest of the party. You even saw Ken’s enemy, Ken, stifle a laugh, and you shot him an angry glare that made even him nervous. Before anyone could stop him Ken was already bolting towards the water.

You covered your eyes, not wanting to see what was about to happen, only to hear cheering and applause. You open your eyes to see that Ken had landed perfectly - and was now surfing the plastic waves.

“Well that’s new!” President Barbie laughs, and you giggle with excitement at Ken’s success. Like a pro he glides back to the shore, a huge grin plastered on his face as the crowd cheers for him. When he’s back on land, he waltzes right up to you.

“Told you so,” he grins, and you nod proudly.

“Oh, Barbie!” he says. “There’s one more thing,” he smiles, before suddenly taking your hand in his. You blush, and he pulls you over to where the other barbies and kens had started a bonfire.

Everyone gathered around the fire in a perfect circle. You sat with the other barbies, and him across the circle from you with the other kens. He sat next to his buddy, another Ken, who was holding a guitar, and you shuddered when he handed it over to him. Uh-oh, you thought, you’d seen this before.

“Barbie, this one’s for you!” Ken yells adorably, holding the guitar in his left hand and pointing his right finger at you. Suddenly feeling very shy, you hide your face in your hands once more, only to hear Ken start playing a very familiar tune. Your favorite song.

You looked up at him, bewildered. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You looked through the flames and there he is, belting out a gorgeous rendition of the song you loved so much. The two of you locked eyes, and when you looked into them, you saw everything you needed to see. This was not done for his own pride or ego, no. This was done entirely and solely for you.

The circle is waving their hands back and forth slowly, you’re enchanted by his voice and his eyes and your heart is thumping in your chest with a familiar feeling you weren’t sure you wanted to admit you felt.

Looking into his eyes, you see the same; there is hurt, and regret, but there is also care, and admiration, and that same something.

Something new.

Something more.

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (daenys)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

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- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: Previous part has been fixed.

I am Daenys Targaryen, born of flame and blood, heir to a legacy that stretches across millennia. My House was once the pinnacle of power in the known universe, its dragonlords feared and revered by all. We ruled from Valyria, the greatest civilization the galaxy had ever seen, until the Doom came. The fires of war—nuclear and cruel—swallowed our homeworld and all we had built. Our enemies conspired, believing us destroyed, our legacy reduced to ash and ruin.

But House Targaryen was not so easily extinguished.

In the aftermath, my ancestors did what Targaryens have always done—they adapted. They fled to the furthest reaches of space, to the uncharted corners of the galaxy where the light of the Imperium could not reach. There, we found a new home, a planet of red skies and volcanic peaks, a world where we could rise again. We named it Albiron, and from its molten heart, we rebuilt our civilization.

In the depths of Albiron, we discovered the drakaon crystals, a powerful source of energy that has allowed us to evolve beyond the constraints of the galaxy's fuel economy. The Imperium and the Spacing Guild cling to melange—the spice that gives them control over space travel. But we, the Targaryens, found a way to traverse the stars without reliance on their outdated systems. The crystals not only power our ships but enhance our technology, giving us the strength and independence we needed to survive.

And survive we did.

Our ancestors safeguarded the ancient knowledge of our House. The secrets of forging Valyrian steel, a craft thought lost to time, still live within us. Our swords, forged in dragonfire, remain unbreakable, as sharp as the day they were first drawn. We hold the wisdom of Valyria—its sciences, its alchemy, its weaponry—all hidden away from the prying eyes of the Empire that now rules the stars. The new emperors and their Bene Gesserit servants tried to create their own messiah, to forge a future in their image, but they could not control us.

They do not know what we are capable of.

And now, after millennia in the shadows, we are stirring again. The galaxy has forgotten our name, but the time will come when they will tremble at the sound of it once more.

For fire and blood will always rise from the ashes

The icy wind cuts through your cloak as you press yourself against the jagged cliffside, the snow swirling violently around you. Arctis is unforgiving, a frozen wasteland where the cold bites at your bones, and the endless white stretches far beyond sight. The Harkonnens are still searching, their patrols scouring the frozen plains, desperate to find you. Their ornithopters hum overhead, casting dark shadows against the snow as their engines roar through the storm.

You crouch low, your breath steady, watching as a squad of Harkonnen soldiers trudges through the snow below, their visors scanning the terrain. They’re relentless, but you’ve been trained for this. The cold, the endless hunt—none of it is new to you. The blood of the dragon runs in your veins, and you know how to wait, how to survive.

The satchel at your side holds something precious: an ancient dragon egg, long since turned to stone. It’s a relic of your past, a symbol of your House’s power, though the Harkonnens know nothing of its true worth. To them, it’s a prize, a trophy. They think capturing you and your egg will give them leverage—perhaps even power. But they do not understand what they’re dealing with.

The blizzard rages on, the wind howling like a beast across the frozen plains. You pull the hood of your cloak tighter around your face, your eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of the ornithopters. Their searchlights sweep across the cliffs, but they won’t find you. Not here, not in the storm.

You move silently, your footsteps careful as you navigate the narrow path along the ridge. The Harkonnens are close, but you’ve learned to avoid them, slipping between their patrols like a ghost in the snow. You’ve disrupted their operations, destroyed their mining equipment, and now they’re hunting you—desperate, angry, and foolish.

You crouch behind a snow-covered boulder, listening to the distant hum of their comms. Their voices crackle through the static of the storm, distorted but still clear enough to hear.

“…continue the search… she can’t have gone far…”

You smirk to yourself. Let them come. Let them search. You’ve been evading them for days, and they still have no idea what they’re up against.

Your thoughts flicker back to the hatchery—the ancient underground structure they uncovered in their greed. It had once been a place where dragons were born, a relic of Valyria’s greatness, long forgotten and buried beneath the ice. The dragon eggs within had turned to stone long ago, but the Harkonnens, ignorant as they were, believed they could extract some kind of power from them. They were wrong.

The Harkonnen soldiers below continue their search, unaware of your presence. You wait, patient, watching them pass by. When the last of them disappears over the ridge, you move again, keeping low to the ground, careful not to make a sound.

A distant shout catches your attention, carried by the wind. You freeze, listening. They’re getting closer. The hum of the ornithopters grows louder, their engines cutting through the storm. They’re sweeping the area, desperate to find you before you can strike again.

You tighten your grip on the hilt of your sword, the Valyrian steel cold against your skin. The ancient knowledge of your House flows through you—the blood of dragonlords, the fire that burns even in the coldest of places.

The storm is your ally, masking your movements, your presence. You can feel the Harkonnens growing frustrated, their search becoming more frantic. They think they can capture you, but you are not so easily taken. You were born of fire and blood, and you will not fall to the likes of them.

In the distance, the hum of the ornithopters fades, replaced by the howling wind and the silence of the frozen wasteland. You remain still, your breath steady, waiting for the storm to hide you once more.

The hunt continues, but you are patient.

You always have been.

The storm raged on, swirling the snow into thick, blinding curtains around you. The wind howled, its sharp edges cutting through the air as you huddled beneath an outcropping of jagged rocks. Your breath came slow and steady, your body still despite the cold biting at your skin. You had lived in conditions far worse than this; the ice and snow of Arctis could not force you out of hiding.

The Harkonnens had passed, their search party moving farther into the storm. But you remained cautious, listening for any signs of movement. The winds carried faint voices—not the harsh tones of Harkonnen soldiers, but something else. Low, deliberate, and organized. You pressed yourself deeper into the shadows, straining to hear.

The voices grew clearer as they approached from beyond the ridge. You crept forward, carefully peering out from your hiding spot. Through the swirling snow, you could make out a group of men, moving in two tight formations. They were well-armed, disciplined, their movements efficient and purposeful. It took a moment to recognize them, but soon you realized they were not Harkonnens at all.

These men were from House Atreides.

You observed them quietly, hidden in the shadows. Two distinct groups, both moving with military precision. Though you didn’t know them by name, you could tell from their movements and the way they coordinated their search that these were capable soldiers. Their formation suggested high-level training, and the way they swept the terrain for threats made it clear they were not to be underestimated.

Unbeknownst to you, these were two teams separated from Duke Leto’s main force—led by none other than Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck, two of the Duke’s most trusted men. But here, in the blizzard, they were just another force you had to evade.

You listened closely as the men talked amongst themselves, their voices carried by the wind, though still muffled by the storm.

“The Duke’s with them still now,” one of the men said, his voice barely audible. “Escorted willingly to their camp. There has been no contact since.”

“They didn’t try to stop him? By the sound of his voice Leto sounded determined.” another voice responded.

“No, they welcomed him. These unknown forces—whoever they are—they’re not hostile to us. Not yet, anyway.”

You felt your pulse quicken. Your brother, Aelor, had found them first. Of course he had. He had been scouting the planet for days, and if anyone could make contact with the Atreides without hostility, it was him. He had always been the diplomat, the one to make the first move. But that meant time was running short. The Harkonnens were still searching for you, and now the Atreides were caught up in the middle of it.

You leaned in closer, straining to hear more, but just as you shifted, the snow beneath your foot crunched—too loud in the stillness.

Two of the Atreides soldiers, their instincts honed from years of combat, immediately stiffened. One of them, a man with sharp eyes and a scar down his cheek, turned his head slightly, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade.

“Did you hear that?” he muttered to his companion.

The other man, stockier but just as alert, nodded, his eyes scanning the area. “Something’s out there.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t afford to be caught—not now, not before you had a chance to finish what you had started. Without waiting for them to spot you, you pushed yourself up from your hiding place and began to run, your feet light on the snow but fast enough to kick up a trail in the storm.

“Hey!” one of the soldiers shouted, his voice sharp. “Stop!”

You didn’t look back. The wind whipped against your face as you ran, the storm providing just enough cover to keep you from being seen clearly, but you could hear them behind you, their footsteps crunching through the snow, their voices calling after you.

“Stop, damn it!” another voice yelled. “We’re not Harkonnens!”

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t stop now. You had no idea what they would do if they caught you. For all you knew, they might try to turn you over to the Harkonnens in exchange for leverage or an alliance. You couldn’t take that chance.

You ran faster, weaving through the rocks and cliffs, your cloak whipping behind you. The Atreides soldiers were fast—faster than you had anticipated—and they were gaining ground. You could hear their boots thudding against the frozen earth, the clinking of their armor as they chased after you.

“Stop, we’re not your enemy!” one of the voices called again, closer this time.

You pushed yourself harder, but the storm was growing fiercer, the wind tugging at your cloak, pulling you back. The cold bit into your skin, slowing your movements as the snow thickened around you. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see the sharp-eyed soldier closing the distance between you, his hand outstretched.

“Stop!” he commanded, his voice firm. “We’re with House Atreides—stop!”

Panic flared in your chest, but you couldn’t let it control you. You needed a way out, but the storm was growing too intense, the landscape blurring before your eyes. You stumbled slightly as the ground beneath you dipped, but you caught yourself, forcing your legs to keep moving.

But the Atreides soldiers were relentless, their pursuit unwavering. If you didn’t find a way to lose them soon, they would catch you. And then everything—your mission, your House’s survival—could be compromised.

In the distance, you could hear the faint hum of more ornithopters, but whether they were Harkonnen or Atreides, you couldn’t tell. The storm masked everything now, the world narrowing down to the sound of your breath, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, and the pounding of your heart.

You had to escape. You had to find a way to evade them.

Because if they caught you, the consequences would be far worse than just being another prisoner.

Gurney Halleck’s boots pounded through the snow, his breath clouding in the icy air as he and Duncan Idaho sprinted after the fleeing figure. The storm was growing worse, and the swirling winds tugged at their cloaks, but Gurney’s focus was razor-sharp. Whoever this person was—Harkonnen, rebel, or some other unknown—they had to catch them before the Harkonnens did.

Ahead of them, through the thick snow, the figure moved swiftly, almost too fast for the conditions. Gurney could make out only a vague silhouette through the storm, darting between the jagged rocks and heading straight for the frozen lake that stretched out beyond the ridge.

Duncan glanced over at Gurney as they ran, his sharp eyes narrowing as the unmistakable sound of Harkonnen ornithopters roared overhead. Their black, beetle-like forms cut through the sky, their engines loud even over the howling wind.

“Harkonnens!” Duncan shouted over the noise. “I’ll deal with them—keep after the runner!”

Gurney nodded without breaking stride, his focus narrowing on the figure disappearing over the edge of the ridge. “Go!” he shouted back. “I’ll get him!”

With a final glance, Duncan peeled away, motioning to the rest of the Atreides soldiers to follow him. They fanned out, preparing to engage the Harkonnen forces as the ornithopters swept in low, their blasters lighting up the snowy landscape.

Gurney, now alone in pursuit, gritted his teeth and pressed on, his legs burning with effort as he crested the ridge and saw the frozen lake below. The figure was already halfway across, their feet moving swiftly but carefully over the ice.

Gurney’s instincts screamed at him to be cautious—crossing a frozen lake in the middle of a storm was dangerous—but he had no choice. The person was fast, but Gurney had tracked many runners in his time, and he wasn’t about to let this one escape. Whoever they were, they had answers he needed.

His boots hit the ice, and immediately he felt the treacherous surface beneath him. Every step had to be calculated, the slick ice making it difficult to gain speed. But Gurney was relentless, his eyes fixed on the figure ahead.

They were nearing the far edge of the lake, and Gurney knew he had to close the distance before they reached cover. With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, his feet sliding slightly on the ice as he tackled the figure to the ground.

The two of them hit the frozen surface with a thud, the impact jarring but controlled. Gurney quickly pinned the runner down, his strong hands gripping their arms and forcing them into submission. He expected a struggle, but what caught him off guard was the sudden stillness beneath him.

The figure twisted beneath his grasp, but not with the strength of a hardened soldier. Gurney blinked in surprise as he looked down at the person he had just caught—and found himself staring into the face of a young woman. You.

Her face was striking, though it was partially hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. She had pale blonde hair, almost silver in the dim light, and her eyes—unusual lilac eyes—narrowed at him with fierce defiance. There was something otherworldly about her appearance, something that startled Gurney more than the fact that she wasn’t a man, as he had first assumed.

“Who—?” Gurney began, but before he could finish, the woman twisted again, trying to free herself. Her movements were quick, but Gurney held her down, his instincts now on high alert.

She wasn’t Harkonnen—of that he was sure. No Harkonnen would move like this, or have those eyes. But who was she?

Before he could ask, a blaster shot echoed across the lake, and Gurney instinctively glanced up. The storm was still raging, but through the snow, he could see Duncan and the Atreides soldiers engaging the Harkonnen forces near the edge of the lake. Ornithopters circled overhead, firing down into the snow, but the Atreides were holding their ground.

Another sound—this one closer—pulled Gurney’s attention back to the woman. She had stopped struggling, but her eyes were fixed on something behind him. Gurney turned his head just in time to see another squad of Harkonnen soldiers emerging from the storm, their weapons aimed directly at them.

“Damn it,” Gurney muttered under his breath.

Without wasting a second, Gurney hauled the woman to her feet, his grip firm but not cruel. “Come on,” he said urgently, his eyes flicking to the advancing Harkonnens. “We need to move, now!”

She hesitated for a moment, her violet eyes darting between Gurney and the soldiers. But when she saw the Harkonnen forces closing in, she seemed to understand the danger and nodded.

Gurney tightened his hold on her arm and pulled her toward the far edge of the lake. They had to reach cover before the Harkonnens caught up—or worse, before the ice gave way beneath them.

The icy wind slashes at your face as your captor drags you across the frozen lake, his grip firm, unwavering. You twist your arm, trying to pull free, but the man doesn’t loosen his hold. His face—grizzled, hardened—remains focused on the danger ahead, but you know he’s underestimated what’s coming.

“Let me go,” you say sharply, your voice cutting through the storm as you glance back at the advancing Harkonnen forces. They’re closing in fast, their dark shapes moving with deadly precision across the ice.

The Atreides soldier barely acknowledges you, his grip tightening as he pulls you along. “Not a chance,” he mutters, his voice gruff.

You grit your teeth, frustration boiling inside you. He doesn’t understand the danger—not fully. The Harkonnens aren’t just after him or his men. They’re after you. And they’re not going to stop until they have you, no matter who stands in their way.

“You need to let me go,” you repeat, more urgently this time, your breath visible in the freezing air. “You can’t fight them while dragging me along. Let me go, and we’ll have a chance to survive.”

He doesn’t slow down, his eyes scanning the horizon, but you can see his jaw tighten. He knows you’re right. The Harkonnens are gaining momentum, their boots pounding on the ice, the sounds of their shouts growing louder.

As the blizzard intensifies, you can make out the rough bark of one of the Harkonnen officers through the storm. “Keep the girl alive! She must stay alive!”

You tense at the words, but your captor’s steps falter for just a moment, his head snapping toward you. He knows now—they want you alive. For a moment, he hesitates, his grip loosening just enough for you to jerk your arm free.

Before he can grab you again, you turn to face him, your lilac eyes flashing with intensity. “Let me fight, or we’ll both die.”

He studies you for a split second, his instincts warring with his sense of duty. But as the Harkonnens close in, their weapons raised, he makes a decision.

“Fine,” he growls, finally releasing you. “But stay close.”

You smirk despite the cold, the tension in your body finally easing as your muscles loosen, ready to move. This soldier doesn’t know what you’re capable of—but he’s about to learn.

The first Harkonnen squad reaches you, their weapons drawn, their faces twisted with a cruel determination. One of them rushes toward you, his blaster raised, but you move faster than he can react. Your hands find the hilt of your hidden Valyrian steel blade, and in one swift motion, you unsheathe it, the metal gleaming in the pale light of the storm.

With a speed and grace born from years of training, you dodge his first strike, your body moving fluidly as if in a dance. Your sword hums through the air, cutting through the cold like a whisper. Before the Harkonnen can fire, your blade is at his throat, and in a single, decisive motion, he falls.

Your captor—the Atreides soldier—watches you, stunned. He’s seen warriors before, but nothing like this. Your movements are unlike anything he’s witnessed—swift, lethal, and otherworldly. You hear his breath catch as he engages the Harkonnen beside you, barely keeping up with the chaos that’s unfolding around him.

The rest of the Harkonnens press forward, but you’re already a step ahead, moving like a shadow on the ice. Another soldier charges, his weapon raised, but you sidestep him with ease, your blade slicing through the air with lethal precision. His body crumples to the ground before he even realizes he’s lost.

The storm howls around you, the snow swirling in thick, blinding waves, but the battle is sharp, focused. You fight like the blood of the dragon runs through your veins—fast, furious, and unstoppable. The ice beneath your feet holds, but you can feel the tension in the air, the weight of the conflict hanging like a blade ready to fall.

Beside you, the Atreides soldier fights fiercely, but you can sense his astonishment. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected you. The Harkonnen forces are brutal, unrelenting, but you fight as if every strike has been calculated a hundred times before it happens. You are the storm, and the Harkonnens are nothing but kindling in your path.

A Harkonnen lieutenant rushes forward, his face twisted with rage. “Take her alive!” he roars. But before he can reach you, you spin, your sword flashing in the storm’s light as it cuts through the air, meeting his weapon with a sharp clash. The force of your strike sends him stumbling backward, his face a mask of shock.

You don’t give him a second chance. Your blade is at his throat in an instant, and with one final strike, he falls, his body hitting the ice with a dull thud.

The sounds of blaster fire and plasma rifles echo in the distance as the Atreides forces engage the Harkonnens, but here, on this frozen lake, you stand victorious over the bodies of those who had dared to hunt you.

Your captor—still catching his breath—turns to you, his eyes wide, his disbelief clear. “Who the hell are you?”

You sheath your blade, the cold wind whipping at your cloak as you step closer. Your lilac eyes meet his, unblinking.

“I am Daenys Targaryen,” you say calmly, your voice carrying over the storm. “And you were right to let me go.”

Before he can respond, another group of Harkonnen soldiers emerges from the storm, and this time, they don’t hesitate. They charge forward with renewed fury, their weapons raised, their intent clear.

Without a word, the Atreides soldier grabs your arm, pulling you toward cover as the next wave of battle begins.

The blizzard whipped violently around you and your captor, the snow swirling in a thick veil of white as the cold air bit at your skin. You could hear the Harkonnen soldiers shouting, their voices growing closer. They were relentless, but you were ready—your sword still slick with the blood of those who had tried to capture you. You glanced at the Atreides soldier next to you, his breath heavy as he clutched his rifle, scanning the horizon for more threats.

Then, through the storm, you heard a voice—a sharp, commanding one, calling out through the chaos.

"Gurney!" the voice called, rough but strong, cutting through the howling winds. "You there? Gurney!"

The man next to you—Gurney, apparently—responded immediately, his tone urgent. "Duncan! We’re pinned down! The Harkonnens have us locked here on the ice with the girl!"

At the word girl, you scoffed, barely able to contain your irritation. You were no mere girl; you were Daenys Targaryen, the blood of Valyria running through your veins. You had fought and survived where others would have perished. Being reduced to nothing more than a ‘girl’ felt like an insult—one you’d gladly repay once this was over.

But Gurney’s use of the word didn’t seem to faze the man on the other end of the comms—Duncan—at least not at first. You could hear a brief moment of hesitation in his voice as he processed what Gurney had said.

"Wait—what?" Duncan’s voice faltered for a heartbeat. "A girl? Out here?"

The disbelief in his tone was palpable, as though the very idea of a young woman being out in the middle of this frozen wasteland was beyond reason. You clenched your jaw, the irritation bubbling up inside you again. But before you could say anything, Duncan quickly recovered, his voice sharp and focused once more.

"Doesn’t matter," Duncan continued, his voice steely and decisive. "Both of you need to keep moving. I’m sending you coordinates now—regroup there. We’ll cover you. But don’t stop, Gurney, do you hear me?"

Gurney nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on the advancing Harkonnens. "Copy that," he responded, his voice clipped. "We’ll make a break for it."

Gurney’s grip on your arm tightened, and he pulled you back slightly, his face set in concentration as he surveyed the chaotic battlefield ahead. The Harkonnen forces were relentless, pushing forward through the storm, their blasters firing indiscriminately as they closed in on your position. The ornithopters circled above, their harsh lights cutting through the snow.

You could hear more of Duncan’s voice in the distance, directing his own men to lay down cover fire, but it wasn’t enough. The Harkonnens were too close.

“We need to move,” Gurney muttered, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Now.”

He glanced at you, his eyes hard and calculating. He didn’t know who you truly were—he only knew that you were important enough for the Harkonnens to want you alive. For now, that was enough for him.

“Keep up,” Gurney ordered as he turned toward the coordinates Duncan had sent. Without another word, he took off across the ice, moving swiftly despite the uneven ground.

You followed close behind, your movements fluid and precise. Every instinct told you to fight, to turn and face the Harkonnens who hunted you—but you knew there would be a time for that later. Right now, the priority was survival.

As you and Gurney ran, the sounds of battle raged all around you—blaster fire, the roar of engines, and the shouts of men locked in combat. You could feel the ice beneath your feet shifting slightly, creaking under the weight of the violence above it, but you kept moving.

"Stay low!" Gurney barked as he ducked behind a large chunk of ice, pulling you down beside him. Plasma shots zipped overhead, lighting up the storm with flashes of red and blue.

You could hear Duncan’s voice again, this time over Gurney’s comm. “We’ve got them distracted—keep moving, Gurney! Head for the ridge. I’ll meet you there with reinforcements.”

Gurney gave a terse nod, not wasting time with words. He glanced over at you, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—perhaps respect, or maybe just acknowledgment that you weren’t the helpless ‘girl’ he had assumed. Either way, you were both in this together now, and you had no intention of slowing him down.

As Gurney prepared to move again, you looked back over your shoulder. The Harkonnens were relentless, pressing forward, their eyes locked on you. You could hear them shouting to one another, their orders clear: "Take her alive!"

But they didn’t know who they were dealing with. You were no mere prize to be captured. You were fire, you were blood, and the day of reckoning would come soon enough.

“Ready?” Gurney asked, his voice low.

You nodded, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. "Lead the way."

With a quick signal, Gurney rose from cover, pulling you with him as you both sprinted toward the ridge. The storm raged on, the ice creaking beneath your feet, but you moved with purpose, knowing that Duncan and his men were waiting.

The Harkonnens would not have you today.

The ridge came into view through the swirling storm, and you and Gurney pushed through the biting wind, your breath visible in the freezing air. Ahead, the forms of more Atreides soldiers emerged, and you could see Duncan Idaho standing at the front, his hand signaling his men to hold position. As you and Gurney neared, Duncan waved his men forward, laying down cover fire to drive the Harkonnens away. Their retreating shouts echoed through the blizzard, and soon the battlefield quieted, leaving only the howl of the wind.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Duncan signaled to his men again, his voice sharp. “Surround her!”

Immediately, several Atreides soldiers moved in, forming a tight circle around you. You could feel the irritation rising within you, your muscles tensing as their weapons remained trained on you. You clenched your jaw, biting back a retort, but the annoyance was clear in your eyes.

Duncan stepped forward, his gaze sharp and assessing as he took in your appearance. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your sword, your stance—he was calculating, sizing you up, but you stood firm, refusing to let him see any sign of discomfort.

Nearby, Gurney moved closer to Duncan, and the two of them began speaking in low voices. You strained to hear, knowing they were discussing you, but the howling wind muffled most of their conversation.

“What’s her story?” Duncan asked, glancing briefly in your direction before focusing on Gurney. His voice was calm but edged with curiosity.

Gurney, his face still stern from the intensity of the chase, spoke quietly. “She calls herself Daenys Targaryen.”

Duncan’s reaction was immediate, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back at you, disbelief flickering across his face. “Targaryen?” he repeated in a hushed tone. “That’s impossible.”

“I thought the same,” Gurney muttered, his voice low and cautious. “But we’ve seen many impossible things on this planet.”

Duncan’s expression remained skeptical, but you could tell he wasn’t about to dismiss the claim out of hand. He took a deep breath, then stepped closer to you, his eyes searching your face for answers. There was a heaviness in the air, the kind that came with the weight of secrets and the unknown.

“What are you carrying?” Duncan asked, his voice calm but demanding, as he gestured toward the satchel at your side.

You stiffened at the question, your hand instinctively tightening on the strap of the satchel. “That’s none of your business,” you said coldly, your voice firm despite the storm swirling around you.

Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could respond, one of the Atreides soldiers acted swiftly, stepping forward and snatching the satchel from your grasp. You spun toward him, ready to fight, but two other soldiers quickly closed in, blocking your path and preventing you from reaching the man who had taken it.

“Give that back!” you snapped, anger flashing in your eyes as you took a step forward.

Duncan opened the satchel carefully, his expression curious but guarded. His brow furrowed as he reached inside and pulled out the heavy, smooth object—the petrified dragon egg. He held it in his hands, examining it with a look of confusion and mild disbelief.

“It’s a rock,” Duncan said, shaking his head slightly as he turned it over in his hands. He glanced up at you, his expression puzzled. “The Harkonnens are chasing you… for this?”

Before you could respond, Gurney stepped closer, his eyes widening slightly as he saw what Duncan was holding. His tone was urgent, a hint of alarm creeping into his voice. “Duncan, that’s not just a rock.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “What is it, then?”

Gurney took a breath, his eyes locking onto the egg in Duncan’s hands. “It’s a dragon egg.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to still, even as the storm raged around you. Duncan’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, his eyes flicking from the egg to you.

“A dragon egg?” Duncan repeated, incredulous. “That’s… impossible.”

You stepped forward, your voice calm but laced with a warning. “There are many things in this universe that you don’t understand.”

Duncan stared at you, clearly trying to process the implications. He glanced down at the egg again, turning it over in his hands, as if expecting it to reveal more of its secrets. “The Harkonnens wouldn’t go to this much trouble for a stone,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But if what Gurney says is true…”

“It is true,” you interrupted, your voice steady. “That egg is more valuable than anything the Harkonnens could hope to steal. But it doesn’t belong to them—or to you.”

Duncan looked back at you, his expression unreadable. He still didn’t fully trust you, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes now, a recognition of the significance of what he was holding.

“Why are the Harkonnens so desperate to capture you?” Duncan asked, his tone softer now, but no less intense. “What’s your connection to this… dragon egg?”

You met his gaze, your lilac eyes unwavering. “Because they know,” you said, your voice steady despite the cold biting at your skin. “They know that House Targaryen is more than just a myth. And they will do anything to claim what is ours.”

Duncan glanced at Gurney, who gave a slight nod, as if to confirm the gravity of your words. The storm continued to howl around you, but now the weight of the moment pressed down on everyone standing there.

The Atreides had stumbled into something far greater than they could have imagined.

And for the first time, Duncan Idaho realized that their fight with the Harkonnens was about to take a turn none of them could have predicted.

Duke Leto Atreides sat quietly in the meeting room, his hands resting under his chin as he tried to process the gravity of what Aelor Targaryen had just revealed. The room was still, save for the faint hum of the advanced technology that surrounded them, but inside Leto’s mind, a storm was brewing. He had heard impossible things in his life—tales of lost Houses, ancient enemies, and forgotten powers—but this was something else entirely.

Aelor had told him in no uncertain terms who he was and who his people were. House Targaryen, the long-lost, feared enemy of the Imperium, had not perished. They had merely retreated into the shadows, rebuilding their strength, and now… now, the Atreides had aided them.

This could mean disaster for his House. If the Imperium learned that the Atreides had sided with the most feared enemy of the past, it could be seen as treason. And yet, there was something in Aelor’s calm, confident demeanor that made Leto pause. Something that told him this was not just another power struggle. This was about survival—about the future.

Beside him, Thufir Hawat stood, his arms crossed, his ever-sharp mind cataloging and analyzing every detail of the conversation. Leto knew that Hawat was already formulating plans, strategies, contingencies. That was his gift—his curse. The Mentat could see possibilities where others saw only chaos.

Leto exhaled slowly, his eyes still focused on the table before him. The weight of the decision ahead pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“I understand what you’ve said, Aelor,” Leto finally spoke, his voice calm, but edged with caution. “But you must know what this means for House Atreides. If the Imperium learns that we’ve aided your people—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Duke Leto,” Aelor interrupted gently. “You merely defended yourselves. The Harkonnens were the aggressors here, as they always are. The Imperium does not need to know what they do not see.”

Leto’s eyes flicked up to meet Aelor’s, searching for any trace of deception. But Aelor’s face was calm, his expression almost serene, as though he held all the pieces to a puzzle that no one else could solve.

Before Leto could respond, the door to the room slid open, and Kellor stepped inside. His expression was strained, but there was an urgency in his eyes that caught Leto’s attention immediately.

“Duke Leto,” Kellor said, “Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck are trying to establish communications with us. They’ve encountered something… unexpected.”

Aelor, who had remained composed, suddenly straightened, his violet eyes sharpening with interest. Leto glanced at Hawat, who gave a slight nod, his calculating mind already considering the possible scenarios.

“Patch them through,” Leto ordered, standing from his seat. His eyes flicked to Aelor, and he gestured for him to join. “We’ll find out what this is about.”

Moments later, the room was filled with the crackle of the comm system coming to life. Duncan’s voice, steady but with a hint of tension, echoed through the room.

“My Lord, we’ve secured the area,” Duncan began. “The Harkonnens have retreated for now, but there’s something else you need to know.”

Leto exchanged a quick glance with Hawat before answering. “Go on, Duncan.”

There was a brief pause before Duncan spoke again. “We’ve… captured someone. A young woman. She says her name is Daenys. Daenys Targaryen.”

At that, Aelor’s calm demeanor shifted instantly. His eyes widened, and he stepped closer to the comm system, his voice filled with sudden urgency. “I wish to speak with my sister.”

Leto, sensing the importance of the moment, didn’t hesitate. “Duncan, Gurney, Daenys’ brother is here. He wishes to speak with her. Patch her through.”

There was a brief moment of silence, followed by the sound of static as the comm system adjusted. Then, a new voice came through, heated, full of frustration and defiance.

“Aelor!” you said, your voice sharp, cutting through the distance like a blade. “What the hell are you doing?”

Aelor’s reaction was instant, the tension in his shoulders releasing slightly as he heard your voice. His response came swiftly, spoken in the fluid, melodic language of High Valyrian.

“Lykirys, jorrāelagon, līragon issa kesīr. Nykēla ñuha hāedar naejot ivestragīr.” 

Leto and Hawat exchanged a quick glance, both of them recognizing the ancient language but unable to understand its meaning. Leto’s mind, however, was elsewhere—focused not on the words, but on the sound of your voice. It was sharp, yes, but there was a melodic quality to it, a tone that stood out even in the midst of the moment.

Aelor spoke again, his voice softening slightly as he continued to address you in High Valyrian. For a brief moment, the storm of emotions seemed to calm between you both.

After a few moments of conversation, Aelor turned back to Leto, his expression more composed now. “I need to retrieve my sister, Duke Leto,” he said, his voice firm. “She is of great importance to our House.”

Leto nodded, the decision already made. “Duncan, Gurney—send me your coordinates. We will come to you.”

Duncan’s voice came through again, clear and direct. “Understood, my Lord. Coordinates incoming.”

Leto took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The impossible had become reality. House Targaryen was not only alive—it was standing before him, and the choices he made now would shape the future of House Atreides, for better or worse.

“Let’s move,” Leto said quietly to Aelor and Hawat. “We have a lot to discuss.”

The sky above the frozen plains of Arctis was a swirling gray, but through the storm, two banners flew proudly in the icy wind. A red hawk in flight on green and black, the proud sigil of House Atreides, stood side by side with a red three-headed dragon on black, the ancient and feared symbol of House Targaryen. The two House banners, both powerful in their own right, flapped together in the cold air as the transports descended toward the meeting coordinates.

Leto Atreides sat in the lead transport, his mind racing as they neared their destination. Beside him, Thufir Hawat sat in contemplative silence, his Mentat mind already running through countless calculations. Aelor Targaryen, seated across from them, was composed, though the slight tension in his jaw betrayed his concern for his sister.

As soon as the transport landed with a soft thud on the snow-covered ground, the doors slid open. The cold wind rushed in, but before anyone could react, Aelor was already on his feet, stepping out into the snow with purpose. The Atreides soldiers followed suit, along with Leto, Hawat, and Sergeant Kellor.

Aelor spotted his sister immediately, her figure standing tall in the distance, surrounded by Atreides soldiers. Without hesitation, he rushed toward her, his cloak billowing in the wind as he moved across the snow with surprising speed.

You saw him approaching and, despite the tension of the situation, allowed yourself a brief moment of relief. Aelor reached you and without a word, he embraced you tightly, his arms wrapping around you in a gesture of both protection and reassurance.

“Lykirys, jorrāelagon,” Aelor whispered in High Valyrian as he held you, his voice soft, meant only for your ears. You had been through so much, and yet here he was, just as you had known he would be.

When Aelor finally stepped back, there was a flash of warmth in his violet eyes as he looked you over, ensuring you were unharmed. He then gently took your hand and turned to lead you toward the gathered Atreides men.

As you approached the Atreides soldiers, Duke Leto, Hawat, and Sergeant Kellor stood in quiet observation, taking in the scene before them. Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck were still standing near the transports, their faces reflecting a mixture of surprise and wariness at the unfolding events.

Aelor led you to stand before the Duke, who was visibly taken aback the moment his eyes landed on you. Though he recovered quickly, the brief flicker of surprise in his expression didn’t go unnoticed by Hawat. The Mentat’s sharp eyes caught the Duke’s subtle reaction—his gaze lingering a fraction longer than usual on your face, perhaps noting your striking resemblance to your brother, or perhaps something else entirely. Hawat filed the observation away in the recesses of his mind, a detail to be discussed later.

Leto, however, was quick to compose himself. He offered you a respectful nod, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke, his voice steady. “Lady Daenys, it is an honor to meet you, though I wish it were under less perilous circumstances.”

You met Leto’s gaze, your posture regal despite the harsh conditions. “Duke Leto,” you acknowledged, your voice firm but respectful. “The peril is far from over. I fear the Harkonnens will not stop at their defeat here.”

Leto nodded thoughtfully. “That’s precisely why we need to discuss the situation further. The Harkonnens won’t let this go. We’ll need a plan to contain them.”

Aelor glanced at you, then back to Leto. “My sister is right. The Harkonnens have learned of the underground structures beneath this planet. If they know about this place, they’ll soon search for more. Every world we’ve known that contains these structures will draw their attention.”

At that, Leto frowned slightly. The gravity of the situation was clear—this was no isolated conflict. The Harkonnens were after something much larger than just control of Arctis.

Thufir Hawat, standing beside Leto, broke his silence, his sharp eyes locking onto you for a moment before addressing the group. “We must assume that the Harkonnens will use any information they’ve gathered here to pursue your House further. If they know of the structures, they won’t stop until they’ve uncovered whatever they believe to be of value.”

Sergeant Kellor, ever the practical soldier, crossed his arms, his gaze shifting between Aelor and you. “What exactly are these underground structures? What do the Harkonnens think they’ll find?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Aelor, and for a moment, there was a silent conversation between you—an unspoken understanding. You had both known this day would come, but it didn’t make it any easier to explain.

“These structures,” you began, your voice measured, “are remnants of our ancient civilization. Some of them were once hatcheries, places where our dragons were born. Though the dragons themselves are long gone from there, the Harkonnens believe they can extract something of value from what remains.”

Leto’s gaze hardened as the weight of your words settled in. “The Harkonnens believe they can use your history to gain power.”

Aelor nodded. “They will stop at nothing to claim what they think gains them leverage.”

Hawat’s mind worked quickly, processing the implications. “Then we need to ensure that they never get that chance.”

Leto met Aelor’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever else was happening here, the Harkonnens were a common enemy, and for now, that was enough to unite their Houses.

“We’ll work together,” Leto said, his tone decisive. “We’ll put a stop to the Harkonnens, but we need more information. We need to know the full extent of their plans.”

You stepped forward, your voice calm but insistent. “I can help you with that. I know what they’re after. And I know how to stop them.”

Leto studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, before nodding. “Then let’s begin.”

...

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the cruel and ambitious heir to House Harkonnen, stood at the center of the command room, his back to his men, staring down at a tactical map of Arctis. His fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles white with barely contained rage.

The silence was suffocating, broken only by the low hum of machinery and the distant howl of the blizzard. Feyd's men, hardened and ruthless as they were, stood rigid, afraid to speak but knowing they couldn’t stay silent for long. They had failed—again—and there would be consequences.

Finally, one of the soldiers, braver or perhaps more foolish than the rest, cleared his throat and spoke, his voice shaky. "My Lord, the girl… she managed to escape. The storm provided cover, and our forces were scattered. We—we lost her in the confusion."

Feyd turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the man who had dared to speak. His face was a mask of barely controlled anger, his lips curling into a sneer. "She escaped?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "One girl… against an entire Harkonnen strike force, and she escaped?"

The soldier swallowed hard, his throat bobbing nervously. "Yes, my Lord. The storm—"

"The storm?!" Feyd exploded, slamming his fist onto the table, sending the holographic projection flickering. His voice echoed through the tent, and every man within it recoiled at the sudden outburst. "The storm is no excuse for incompetence! She’s a single target, and you let her slip through your fingers like sand!"

He began to pace, his hands flexing and unflexing as his mind raced, the fury building with each step. "And now… not only has the girl escaped, but the Atreides are here. They’ve joined forces with the Targaryens." His voice dripped with venom at the mention of House Atreides, his family’s ancient enemies.

One of his lieutenants, a man with a scar running down his face, stepped forward cautiously, trying to keep his voice calm in the face of Feyd’s wrath. "My Lord, the Atreides forces have bolstered the Targaryens’ position. They outnumber us now, and our operation is compromised. If we continue this conflict, it will draw the gaze of the Emperor… and the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood."

Feyd stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked at the lieutenant. "The Emperor? The Sisterhood? And do you think I care about their gaze?"

The lieutenant opened his mouth to respond, but Feyd cut him off, his voice colder than before. "You think they don’t already know? You think they aren’t watching? We are all pawns in their game, but make no mistake, I will not be humiliated by Atreides dogs and Targaryen ghosts!"

His words hung in the air, the weight of his threat clear to everyone in the room. Feyd had no intention of retreating, no intention of admitting defeat. His hatred for House Atreides ran deep, and the very idea of their forces allying with the Targaryens had ignited a fury that could not be easily quelled.

The tent fell into a heavy silence, the soldiers exchanging uneasy glances. They knew better than to argue with their commander when he was like this. No one wanted to be the one to deliver more bad news—or face the consequences of his wrath.

After what felt like an eternity, another soldier, younger and clearly less experienced, nervously cleared his throat. "My Lord," he ventured carefully, "what… what should we do about the Targaryen girl?"

For a moment, the tent was silent again, but this time it was different. Feyd stopped pacing, his expression shifting from anger to something more sinister—something almost amused. A slow, twisted smile spread across his face, and he chuckled darkly.

"Oh, don’t worry about her," he said softly, his voice dripping with malice. "I’ll catch her. She can’t run forever."

He turned back to the map, his eyes gleaming with a cruel light as he traced the coordinates of their last known position. "Daenys Targaryen may have escaped for now, but she’s made a fatal mistake. She’s shown us just how far she’s willing to run. And when we catch her… well, I’ll make sure she regrets every step she took."

His men remained silent, their unease palpable. Feyd’s mood had shifted, but it hadn’t improved. The promise of what was to come for Daenys Targaryen and her allies was not one of mercy.

Feyd turned back to his men, his tone hardening again. "We’ll regroup and press on. This failure—your failure—will be delivered personally to the Baron." He smiled coldly at the thought of his uncle, knowing the consequences for his men would be severe.

"But until then," he added, his voice dangerously soft, "we hunt. And when we find the girl, we’ll make sure the Atreides and the Targaryens learn that no one crosses House Harkonnen and lives to tell the tale."

The soldiers nodded in grim silence, knowing there was no room for argument. The hunt would continue, and this time, there would be no escape.

Feyd’s eyes gleamed with the cold fire of vengeance as he turned back to the map. He had no intention of letting this go. House Targaryen, House Atreides—they would all pay. And it would start with you, Daenys.

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 33

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

NSFW! Explicit. This is just 830 words of smut. Minors DNI etc etc

Remus says nothing. Makes tea. Waits for his blood to stop boiling over but every time he looks at where Sirius is chain smoking out of the window, the anger comes crashing into him again.

There’s not been a word out of Sirius, not since Peter had left.

It’s too much, this. Not right. Remus thinks of nothing, says nothing. Dumps his still-hot tea down the sinks, crosses the kitchen. Stands in front of Sirius at the windowsill. Grabs one of his legs, pushes it to the side, slots himself between Sirius’ knees.

The cigarette is in Sirius’ mouth, lit up and cherry-red, held in place by lips pulled tight and a hand frozen midair. Remus takes it from his fingers, stabs it out, tosses it out the window.

Sirius’ stubble is coarse under his fingers. Remus explores it and Sirius lets him, eyes wide and willing and trusting. A thumb ran over the cheekbone, where there used to be a bruise, where now the skin is perfect and smooth and healthy, as it should be. A hand on neck, palm covering the single mole Remus has spent too much of his sanity watching.

Lips on lips. I have opened your mouth for you. Fingers on jaw, pushing, parting. Tongue on teeth, licking in, learning. It is the knowledge of your mouth. 

“Mry.t n íb=í,” Remus says in words long extinguished. Brings them back to life as he breathes into Sirius’ mouth, greedy for each exhale from his lungs. Beloved of my heart.

“Remus,” a pant.

“Do you want this?” He doesn’t move away. Speaks into the skin of his jaw, into his bones.

“I do,” despite shaky fingers, Sirius’ voice doesn’t waver.

“Show me.”

And Sirius does. Matches Remus, hand by hand and touch by touch. Wraps his legs around Remus’ waist. Breathes out finally.

Hands on thighs, gripping, pulling. Remus feels Sirius’ cock through the thin trousers they both wear. “How can I have you?”

Sirius huffs out a frozen laugh, back of his head knocking softly into the window. Remus cradles it.

“Any way you want.”

Shirt goes first. Black lines of tattoos - runes and protection charms. Remus traces the top one with his fingers, then with his tongue. Gets rewarded with a pull on his hair and Sirius’ thighs tightening around him.

He wants to be patient. To devour but in parts, in bite-sized pieces he can catalogue and appreciate. The sound Sirius makes when he removes his mouth renders that impossible.

He falls to his knees. Fills his mouth with Sirius, still clothed, the shape of him hardening against Remus’ lips like the shape of ancient words infused with magic. I have opened your eyes for you, so they are grounded. Sirius tips his head forward, gaze locked on Remus.

Clothes go quickly. Remus doesn’t bother taking them off, only pulling down what is necessary and he takes Sirius in his hand, can’t decide what’s better - the whine that leaves him or the smoothness of the skin. How it feels when he gets his mouth on it, teeth scraping in the most delicate way.

“Remus, I need… fuck this feels good. I need you.”

“Tell me.” Remus hollows out his cheeks and sucks and none of this is gentle - he should be gentle. He should take his time. Spread Sirius out on a bed and bite every inch of him until they both forget anything but the marks he leaves.

“Fuck me. Just fuck me. We can take our time later, I promise, but just… I need to feel you.”

Remus turns him around, pushes him down against the window sill, against the glass. Spells them unnoticeable. Pulls Sirius’ trousers off completely, touches against each new inch of skin exposed. Licks the curve of his arse and relishes in the impatient little foot stomp he gets in response. Smacks the spot he licked, like it’s a punishment.

They both know it’s encouragement.

Two more spells, Sirius is ready, Remus’ fingers dripping wet as he pushes them against, into, until the first one is engulfed.

“I don’t need this. Just fuck me already, won’t you?”

“Be patient,” another smack, harder this time, the skin turning a beautiful shade of pink Remus wants to remember.

Even in this, even despite his words, Remus rushes. It’s too soon when he pushes his own trousers out of the way and starts sinking into the heat of Sirius’ body. “Breathe for me,” he says when Sirius starts to shake. He folds himself over, teeth on neck and once he’s fully in he bites.

They kiss through it, Sirius twisted at the waist, hands bracing on the glass as he pushes himself onto Remus. Neither of them last long once Remus starts to run his hand up Sirius’ cock - he comes with a cry bitten into Remus’ lips, his beautiful body tightening and Remus tumbles into it as well, like a summer storm, like opening his eyes under lakewater. 

NEXT PART

NOTES:

We got here! I think I’ll actually have to tag this one as slow burn

If ancient Egyptians didn’t want me to write smut from their funerary rites they shouldn’t have made them so horny (seriously 90% of it is just about opening someone’s mouth.)

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

@arasael

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[theworldbrewery]

1d8 places to camp in the desert

In a shady palm oasis, surrounded by rising sand dunes. The oasis was once inhabited, based on the crumbling signs of clay buildings ringing the water, but there’s no one here anymore. At the bottom of the oasis’s clear waters, nestled in the sand, you can see a large, pitch-black egg.

Between the high walls of a slot canyon, with shafts of light shining down to the sand on which you’ve laid your camp. The narrow passage is claustrophobia-inducing, and safety is far from guaranteed; if it should rain, creatures will have little warning before a flash flood strikes.

At the foot of a sandstone arch, worn very smooth. Scratched into the stone is a phrase in Dwarvish: “Demon’s Bridge.” No fiendish aura accompanies the arch, and yet the prospect of passing directly under the arch is a chilling one. The chaparral landscape all around supplies plenty of dry brush for a campfire.

On a flat range, having followed the sign of a distant fire to the site of a group of nomads making camp. The nomads' music resonates deep over the sound of their animals. The dark sky is a perfect dome, illuminated by the brilliant glow of a million million stars; how small mortals are, by comparison!

Surrounded by saguaro cacti. All through the night, the cacti produce a faint groaning sound. In the morning it’s clear the cacti have migrated a few thousand feet west, though they never appear to be moving. If communicated to, the cacti convey that they are heading to a succulent symposium, and that neither beast nor fungus may attend.

Amid a maze of white sand dunes. In the dark of night the dunes appear blue, like ocean waves frozen in time. Sticking up out of the next dune is the buried prow of a ship, its cast bronze figurehead made to look like a spray of grasping tentacles.

In a limestone cave, sheltered from a sandstorm blowing outside. Evocative paintings and deep-worn grooves have been left upon the cave walls. The images are difficult to interpret, but they seem to involve some type of titanic, many-limbed creature emerging from the dunes.

Beside the road, within view of a fortified town. The town’s lights twinkle like stars in the distance, but its gates are shut for the night. Jackals cackle in the brush nearby, but they seem more interested in scavenging off whatever prey carcasses a traveling hunter might leave behind. Out in the open like this, however, a camp is a prime target for a robber on the road.

[pinksiames]

Master list

This is where you can find all of my works and such!

Last updated on 07/02/24

(Feel free to use the AU’s to write!)

Masters of the air

Fics

The Promise of Heaven -Gale/John (Completed)

"Not Nature, But the 'Genius of mankind' has has knotted the hangman's noose which it can execute itself at any moment." - Carl Jung

Or what happened to Gale before meeting back up john at Stalag lll.

On ao3 linked here

You and me (against the world) - Gale/John (in progress)

Buck and Bucky manage to get away for a weekend and spend some time together.

On ao3 also linked here

Guide to being the hot Teacher (By Gale Cleven) -Gale/John (In progress)

“Now what did I deserve to be graced by your presence again buck.” He knew he was getting under Gales skin with that nickname.

“It’s Gale and you forgot your Door key in my room.” Pulling out the lanyard from his pocket.

“What if I did it on purpose so I could see you again?”

“Well then it would’ve been a stupid plan since you wouldn’t have been able to get back inside to see me.” He retorted, lightly nibbling on the inside of his cheek.

Or the one where Gales the new Astronomy teacher and The baseball coach is absolutely head over heels for him.

Headcanons for The Teacher AU

Wips

Gale crying - John/Gale

Au's

ABO - John/Gale

Domestic Post war - John/Gale

Skatepark - John/Gale Made with @clevenhq

Law Firm - John/Gale Made with @/clevenhq

Frat Boys - John/Gale Made with @/clevenhq

Exchange Student - John/Gale made with @/clevenhq

Rockstar - John/Gale Made wit h@/clevenhq

Sugar Baby - John/Gale Made with @/clevenhq

Soccer Mom - John/Gale Made with @/clevenhq

Emo Extrovert and normal Introvert Bf - John/Gale made with @/clevenhq

Hotel workers - John/Gale Made with @/clevenhq

Next door neighbors -John/Gale made with @/clevenhq

Prison Pen Pals - John/Gale Made with @/clevenhq

Vampire Gale - John/Gale Made with@/clevenhq

Dune

Pain and Pleasure - Feyd/Paul (Complete)

The urge to inflict it is as strong as it is to receive it. Pain bleeds into pleasure. Pleasure into pain. No sense in trying to keep the two torn apart, begging to rip and tear at each others throats and bathe in the glory and aftermath of it all. They shall never know what it means to live separately, what it feels to thrive on their own.

That, at least, is what has been ingrained into Feyd-Rautha’s mind since he first gained consciousness. Since he was taken from his home world Lankiveil, where white snow encapsulated the whole planet, nothing but harsh winters and frozen over seas. Since his Uncle took him and his brother Glossu in after the murder of their father. Since he presented as an Omega at the age of 15. He’s only known that for pain to ensue pleasure must be obtained as well.

Headcanons

Headcaonons of my current Wives Gale Cleven and Feyd Rautha

Vampire Gale made by @/clevenhq!

[srirax619]

Tell me about your planet

Hey, y'all, how goes? This is a snippet from my AU (still unnamed) were both Pines brothers fall into the portal. I was watching nature videos and got inspired. This is a very short chapter, from around the 3rd quarter of the story. Shouldn't give spoilers, I don't think. Let me know what you think.

“Tell me about your planet… I have never been anywhere but here. What is it like? Is it beautiful? Is it a wasteland?” Mila asked the brothers, her cigarette-like herbal paper wrap dangling from her respiration flaps. 

This was the first time in many years that anyone had asked about their home. Those familiar with Earth usually were not from their dimension, didn’t think too much of it. Those unfamiliar had heard stories of the idiocy of its inhabitants with regard to things like nuclear war and environmental damage. It wasn’t the only planet that was the victim of greed, but it was really all people knew about their home, usually. 

Ford could tell this was a question borne of genuine curiosity and was struggling with how to respond, debating where to start. 

Before he could, Stanley said, “My brother here, he’s got a compulsion to know. To understand. To learn everything possible. I used to joke, when we were children, that he would make his head pop if he wasn’t careful. On our planet, just like others, one of the highest accolades one can get for their intellect, is to get a PhD, to become a doctor. You can become a doctor of many subjects. In general, it takes most people around a decade– that means ten years– to accomplish one PhD. My brother has 12 PhDs.”

Stanley took a drag from his not-cigarette. He smiled at the young native. “With all of that intellect, all of that collected knowledge, my brother has not BEEN to every place on our planet. He hasn’t seen the dunes of the Sahara, a massive desert on the opposite side of the planet than where we lived. He hasn’t ever witnessed a continent made almost completely of frozen water. There are places with rocks that are pillars, yet hexagonal. There are oceans and lakes and rivers that range in color from black to blue to red. There are creatures on our planet that haven’t even yet been discovered by scientists, like my brother. People that spend their ENTIRE lives in the pursuit of discovery, and never complete their work. There are indeed wastelands, but even they have their own beauty. The majority of our world is green and lush, where there is land, and wide and blue, where there is ocean. The majority of the planet is ocean. People, mostly, live on land. There are places where they have birds– they are a form of avian, like your Makachu– that walk as tall as a humanoid. There are creatures that weigh as much as your house and yet only eat the tiniest microbes. There are hives of insects that have a form of agriculture where they harvest greens to feed to small fungal colonies in order to later eat those fungal colonies. Some places have trees so big that we tunnel into the trees, just to drive automobiles through, and the trees still thrive! There are whales, like your fish but massive, and they breathe air instead of water, so big that you could walk through their organs while standing up. There are bioluminescent krill that make the shore of the ocean glow at night. There is a place where lightning strikes over 1000 times in 365 days– that’s how long our year is on our planet. It’s dangerous, so dangerous that even accidentally breathing water into your nose, even if you manage not to drown, can leave amoebas in your brain and kill you. And yet, there seems to be a plant or an herb for almost every ailment that you can get. I have seen people survive venoms because a doctor had already synthesized an anti-venom by using the original venom. There’s a type of fish that, with a single drop of its venom, can kill an animal the size of your house. And none of that is the amazing achievements of human engineering, some of which are awe-inspiring… some of which are terrible. Human’s, Mila, are the most dangerous creatures on our planet. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of our pollution or nuclear wars….” Stanley cleared his throat and sat straighter. “For as dangerous as each thing can be, it is without a doubt the most beautiful place I have ever seen, and we’ve been traveling the multiverse for 7 years now.” Stan finally turned to the other two and smiled, genuinely, and with a fond expression. He sighed deeply and looked up at the gray sunset before them. 

Both Ford and Mila looked at Stanley in awe. 

“I couldn’t tell you about our planet if I spent a lifetime on it. But I can tell you that I think about it every single day.” 

Mila chittered affectionately. “It sounds pretty amazing. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Ford responded automatically, still staring into nothingness.

“What is an ocean?” she asked innocently. Both brothers laughed. She bristled a bit. “What?” 

Ford turned fully toward the young native. “All this sand, the beautiful dunes that surround us?” 

“Yes?”

“Imagine that the sand was all water. Water so deep that it went for kilometers down, so deep that the pressure from the weight of it all would crush you, the further down you went. Imagine that it was so massive, so deep, that the largest creature on your planet could not just call it home, but have so much room to move that for hundreds of thousands of years, that creature was thought to be a myth, for how few of your people had seen it. Imagine water so deep that the equipment you had to attempt to just find out how deep it went would not survive the journey.” Mila’s eye stalks glowed, her species equivalent to whistling. 

“Sounds terrifying.” 

Stan chuckled. “The sailors– that would be people who use vehicles to traverse the ocean– call the ocean and its chaos a cruel mistress. It’s a phrase that implies that she, the ocean, is both a giver and taker of life.”

“On our planet, every life’s evolutionary cycle began in the ocean,” Ford added. “In fact, most life on earth is STILL in the ocean. When life on our planet began, the entire place was covered in water. Imagine that– a place with no land anywhere.” 

Mila snuffed out her herbal stick and stood from her perch. “I would love to hear more about your Earth. It sounds like children’s stories.” She chittered affectionately and turned to walk away. “Hopefully I see you two again. I’ll be back here tomorrow, same time if you’re still around.” 

Once she was out of earshot, Ford turned to Stan and smiled fondly. He switched back to English. “That was the most beautiful description of anything I think I have ever heard from you!” 

Stan smiled, bowing his head. “S’ true. I think ‘bout home every day. Don’t get many chances to talk about it.”

“How do you know so much about the geography of home?” Ford teased. “Awfully nerdy of you.”

Stan scoffed. “I can pick up a BOOK, Sixer.” He waved off his brother. “Used to …well, the library was always free, and if it was cold… ya know. ‘Course they would frown upon loiterin’, so…” Stan cleared his throat. “Truth is, the reason I decided to take a buddy up on a few jobs in South America was… The travel books, them pictures. Moses, Ford… the beauty on those pages… Black and white or not, it was entrancing. It was the real treasure I went for.... And it couldn’t be taken from me.” 

“Every time,” Ford said.

“Huh?”

“Every time I think I know all there is to know about you, I am proven so very wrong.” 

Stan smirked. “Maybe one day you will.” 

“Well it looks like you’ll get a chance to talk about it with Mila, at least. She seems like a kind person.”

“Kid’s got a good heart, or…ya know, whatever drives her species' blood circulation.” The scanner on Stan’s wrist began to give a familiar hum. “Damn… Looks like I won’t get that chance. New rift incoming about one klick from here, let’s get there as quick as we can.” The brothers stood and shuffled quickly in the direction the scanner indicated. 

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 58 : Black-Ash Desert

They reach the place where the Jeweler is hidden!

TW : description of Wukong in the furnace

Wukong was diving in his wardrobe, hoping to find something suitable for the lands they just arrived in. Outside, the sun was shining intensely, its fires falling on endless rows of somber sand. They were flying above the infamous Black-Ash Desert, an infinite ocean of black sand extending for lis and lis. Wukong never stepped foot in this region. To be honest, he stopped wandering after his journey, preferring the familiarity of his isle over the excitement of travel. Not many dared to venture in this desert. The days were as hot as Laozi's furnace, the sun glaring down at any daring to walk beneath it, its gaze downright murderous. On the contrary, the nights were as cold as a ghost's embrace, the moon smiling in glee when the last remains of adventurous travelers froze to death.

And even if by any miracle, one managed to handle those extreme temperatures, the desert was filled with all sorts of lethal beasts, each promising a death more gruesome than the last. It was a deadly place. Not made to be inhabited. Wukong wondered what the Jeweler was doing in such murderous lands.

He needed something covering. Letting his skin be exposed wasn't an option. He wasn't about to be burned more than he already was. He opted for large yellow pants and a long-sleeved golden shirt, then he created a thick teal veil that he draped over his head and shoulders. Once he was satisfied he let Sock curl up around his shoulders, under his veil, and left the room. The rest of the team was on the docks. All covered to escape the sun's burning glare. The hot temperature was making the engines overheat, they needed to land before completely screwing over the ship.

The sage unconsciously walked towards Macaque, not that he would ever admit it, but he often found himself gravitating around the other monkey. Perhaps by instinct, he found it reassuring to have him in his line of sight. Macaque was wearing loose purple pants, his scarf was draped over his head and shoulders, protecting him from the glaring sun. He put on all the liu'si. The long sword was tied to his waist by an auburn belt, the spear shackled to his back with another belt, the shield on top of it. The bow was firmly tied to his lower-back and the gauntlets were on his hands. He looked every bit like a hardened warrior prepared for battle.

It suited him.

Macaque noticed his gaze and smirked at him, eyes curled like crescents moon. “See something you like?” Snorted the warrior as he put his hands on his hips. Wukong huffed and crossed his arms, turning away. Yet he couldn't help but open one eye and glance back at his moon.

“Maybe I do.” Teased the great sage, he delighted in Macaque's ever so slight sway of tail, proof that the teasing was somehow getting to him. Not that Macaque would ever admit it either. While being vastly different in character, both monkeys were greatly prideful, not willing to admit when they were flustered.

The ship tilted forward, beginning its descent. They all firmly gripped the railing, now accustomed to the ship's whims. Sandy gracefully landed within the black dunes, the ship perching itself like a snowflake falling above a frozen lake. Sandy truly was a master when it came to the control of ships. They all hopped on the black expanse. Wukong winced when his feet dug themselves in the somber sand, somehow, the sand felt different. The great sage crouched down and grabbed a handful of sand. He squinted in disgust at the potent smell of fire, when he brought the sand closer, he discovered ashes mingled with it. He didn't like this.

Wukong shrunk the ship with a flick of hand and handed it to Sandy, because of the heat, they needed to make the rest of their journey on foot. Red Son was at the front, guiding them with the compass. The more they dove into the desert, the more Wukong frowned at their surroundings, if it wasn't for his presence, they would have been attacked by various beasts already. Somehow, the snakes slithering beneath their feet knew to not cross his path, at least he believed he was the one to deter them, if not him then who? Wukong didn't like extreme heat, even less with the potent smell of ashes ruling over the desert. It reminded him of his time inside the furnace, of tongues of fire licking every inch of his body, of the smoke melting his irises. Alone. With nothing but his crown cries as company. Nothing but the sight of his reflection dancing on the curved surface of the furnace. A melted monkey. Flesh dripping from his own bones, burned and marred, until his immortality kicked in to restore his skin.

Half-melted hands pouding on scalding metal. Praying. Begging. Pleading for an ounce of mercy. But none shall be shown to him.

He felt something soft rubbing against his cheek. Wukong glanced on his left and was met with the doe-eyes of his lil lady. He smiled and slipped one hand inside his veil to scratch under her chin. She received the pet with glee. Greedily leaning in his touch. Her eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Wukong detached his gaze from Sock's contented face once he heard Tang's screech. The sage looked ahead and his eyes widened. A sand storm was coming their way. The cloud of black sand was shaped like a tsunami’s wave, engulfing everything in its wake, leaving behind nothing but saddening remains. It was loud. As loud as thousands of horses galloping together as one.

“Run back!” Shouted Macaque. Wukong cursed. He wouldn't be moved by a sand storm, being made of stones made him quite heavy, but it wasn't the same for the others. He couldn't summon a cloud like this, not when the winds were screeching like a bunch of slaughtered wolves, and Macaque couldn't use shadow magic. Not if he wanted to remain stable. They needed to find a shelter and fast.

They turned around and ran back. Wukong used his golden eyes to inspect his surroundings, hoping to find somewhere to hide. He noticed a structure hidden beneath their feet, buried in sand. Well, it could do.

“Brace yourselves!” Shouted Wukong, he cracked his knuckles and punched the ground, the sand shook under the force of his fist and creaked open, revealing old-buried ruins. The slit formed by his punch was thin, resembling a smiling mouth, Wukong hopped in it without any hesitation. “In there!” Out of the corner of his eyes, Wukong saw Macaque grab the kid's collars and threw them in the slit, Pigsy grabbed Tang and followed soon after, Sandy on their trail. Macaque was the last one to jump in, after him, the slit was covered by the storm, closing for good, plunging the ruins in pitch darkness.

Wukong looked around, able to see because of his gold vision. They landed inside some sort of half-broken pyramidal temple. Sand was almost everywhere. Yet the pyramid incurved roof provided a breathable space to squeeze in. Red Son created a flame with a finger snap, illuminating their surroundings.

“Let's stay there until the storm passes.” Proposed Sandy, they all agree to that. They could still hear the storm thundering above their heads, shaking the very earth.

“Oh boy! It's exploration time!” Cheered Mei, but Pigsy grabbed her by the collar before she could dive further in the pyramid.

“Nuh huh, it's you stay put time.” Groaned Pigsy. Mei tried to convince him with puppy eyes but, as expected, it didn't work on Pigsy. Mei sat on the floor with crossed arms, but she quickly forgot her frustration and began to chat with MK about the latest video game.

They ignited a small firecamp in the ruin’s heart and sat all around it.

Wukong grabbed Sock and put her down, she curled on herself, not even bothered by the new environment. It wasn't the first time Wukong noticed his cat's lack of fear but, truly, he wondered if anything could even scare his lil lady. She was always as unbothered as the quiet surface of a lake. Wukong petted her, scratching behind her ears, and smiled when she let out soft puffs of purr.

After a bit, the great sage noticed Macaque's absence. He looked around, skimming over the kids playing cards, Pigsy preparing their dinner, Sandy playing with the cats and Tang buried in his book… At last, he noticed a light coming from ahead, behind some of the pyramid's wall, probably Macaque. Wukong stood up, dusted himself, and walked towards his moon.

Macaque was leaning over some sort of mural, illuminating it with his torch's luster. The flames’ shadows were dancing on the mural, almost shaped like snakes.

“Trying to discover some ancient secrets?” Joked Wukong as he approached his moon, hands in his pockets. “Didn't take you for Lara Croft.”

“Lara who?” Replied Macaque with a raised eyebrow. Wukong snorted. Gods, this guy really had to keep up with the time.

“You're really an old-geezer.” Laughed Wukong.

“Says you.” Huffed Macaque.

“I'm in my prime.” Macaque leveled him with a deadpan glare. Wukong scratched his neck and coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Alright, maybe not anymore. But I aged well, like wine.” He skimmed even closer and added : “So did you.”

“Sure. Be useful and clean that up.” Hummed Macaque as he pointed to an area of the mural. Wukong usually didn't like to be ordered but, somehow, he did exactly as told. He conjured up a cloth and rubbed the mural, removing the old layer of grime. Macaque pointed to a few more places and Wukong obediently cleaned them. Once his job was done he returned to Macaque side and cleared his throat.

“Maybe I deserve some reward for all that hard work, no?”

“What do you want?” Huffed Macaque, he looked annoyed but the smile on his lips easily betrayed his true feelings.

“Kiss.” Blurted Wukong, he didn't even have to think about it, it passed his lips without hesitation. Macaque snorted, he approached him, placed one hand on his hips, and softly pecked him. Lips fluttering against his own like the delicate wings of a butterfly.

Macaque stepped back after a short second, Wukong pursued his lips, that wasn't merely enough. “I worked really hard.” Chirped the great sage, in other circonstances, he might have been ashamed to act so needily, but he was on a mission here. And the reward was worth any fleeting embarrassment. Macaque raised an eyebrow, as if to question his pitiful act, yet he still caved and gave him another kiss. This time longer. Wukong closed his eyes and leaned in, relishing in the other's taste. Yet when it was over he still craved for more. “I think I deserve another one.”

Macaque narrowed his eyes, he was very close, nose almost touching his. Wukong knew his warrior's temper, he knew how to fan his flames, he never dared before, but now that he accustomed himself with his moon's taste, he believed himself able to take more. “Or are you afraid?” Teased the golden-furred monkey with the most infuriating smirk he could manage. Macaque’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Is this a challenge?” Mumbled Macaque, in the temple's shadows, his eyes took red hues, smoke of fire dancing in his irises. Wukong gulped. There was something about those eyes. Something dangerous. Yet who was he to back down? In the face of danger, he was the kind to dive right in.

“Maybe it is.” Muttered Wukong. Silence veiled them for one brief moment. Both closer than ever. His moon put the torch in his tail, he then raised his hands, wanting to hold the very sun in his palms, but stopped when he remembered he was wearing gauntlets. Macaque frowned, as if he was facing a great dilemma, before placing his hands on Wukong's waist. His hold was of iron. Firm. Not that Wukong minded. The great sage put his own arms around Macaque's shoulders and brought him even closer, their breaths were mingling together, already fiercely kissing. “So are you going to stare at me forever or are you-”

He didn't have time to end his sentence, Macaque dived in with a growl, making him eat his own words.

It wasn't like their other kisses. Fleeting. Brushing of lips. Light and soft. Filled with tender love.

This one was more fierce. Love mingled with a hint of desire. They met like two crashing waves, colliding with each with nothing but undaltured passion. When love sat in one heart for hundreds of years, it created a deep longing rooting itself in the very flesh. A desire easily fanned by one word alone. They were now past the fleeting touches of first time lovers. The novelty of the other's lips faded with each encounter, leaving in their hearts a hunger for more.

Wukong grabbed the thin fur covering Macaque's neck, pressing him closer, wanting him closer. Their lips moved in tandem, crashing against the other with nothing else but passion. Wukong let himself be lost in his own desire. There was a purr rumbling in Macaque's throat. Pushing him to go further. Deeper. He ran his tongue on the other bottom lips, Macaque whined as if his spit was burning lava, it might as well be. Slowly. As if teasing him. Macaque opened his mouth. Wukong didn't have the patience to wait any more, he dived in, letting his tongue roll in his moon's scorching mouth.

They met again, the mere touch of the other tongue against his own made fire travel down Wukong's spine. He felt like he was burned by something he never felt before. He trilled. A high-pitched whine that sounded unfamiliar. Was it his voice? Why did it sound so…odd? Macaque groaned, his voice traveled in Wukong's very skin, igniting something in his stomach.

This was heaven in its purest form.

When they separated, mouths linked with a thin trail of saliva, Wukong's mind was turned into mush. It took him several minutes to regain a semblance of clarity. Macaque looked no better than him, heavily heaving, eyes half-lidded with hazy clouds. Once he bared his spirits again, Wukong was hit by a sudden wave of embarrassment.

“That was…” He nervously laughed, not knowing how to even describe what just happened because, holy fuck, what was that?

Macaque erupted in fiery red, he let go of Wukong as if he was made of burning fire and took a step back. Wukong almost whined at the sudden distance but he had half the mind to restrain himself. The black-furred monkey looked around, as if he forgot where he put the torch (perhaps he had, the sight was kind of hilarious, Wukong knew better than to laugh though). The warrior quickly grabbed the torch once he remembered he put it in his tail and cleared his throat.

“Y-yeah, so… the mural.” Mumbled Macaque, his voice strangely high-pitched.

“Oh yeah right.” Nervously chuckled Wukong he pinched himself to chase away the haze and followed behind Macaque.

The mural, now cleaned, depicted a war. On one side stood fire-clad soldiers with pitch black skin, on the other side stood covered warriors manipulating shadows. Above the murals were carved two symbols, a pitch black moon and a burning sun.

“You, huh, know those symbols?” Asked Wukong, he knew Macaque had an extensive knowledge on shadows, so perhaps he knew something about the shadow users depicted on the murals.

“I knew I recognized this symbol.” Muttered Macaque, every hint of the previous haze erased. “This is the shadow clan I learned about in Cheng's library.”

“Huh…” Wukong tried to dig in his memory, but really all he could remember from Macaque's excited rambles about shadow magic was his cute face.

“The one who can manipulate people by manipulating their shadows.” Fondly huffed Macaque once he saw that Wukong wasn't remembering.

“Oh yeah right!” Chirped Wukong. “Soo, they lived here? Crazy coincidence.”

“Talk about it. Very few things are known about this clan, we're lucky to stumble upon this!” Macaque examined the mural with a renewed interest, his tail wagging at his feet. Cute. Wukong restrained himself, not wanting to coo like an idiot. But it was hard. Macaque was very adorable.

The great sage sat on the floor and watched Macaque fuss over the mural. After an hour or so one of Macaque's ears flickered and he turned towards him.

“You said?” Asked Macaque with a small frown. Wukong raised an eyebrow. He didn't say anything.

“I didn't say anything?”

“Really? I swear I heard something.” Mumbled Macaque, his gaze briefly fell on the sword tied to his hips but he quickly shook his head. “I must have imagined it.”

“Old age is making you hallucinate.” Laughed Wukong, he crossed his arms behind his head and smirked at the warrior.

“Yeah, laugh all you want.” Macaque rolled his eyes and turned back to the mural.

Wukong settled comfortably and admired his moon, he didn't really care about an ancient shadow clan’s history, but he liked to hang out with Macaque. Somehow, he remembered what happened earlier, he put one hand on his lips and averted his eyes. He felt his tail wag at the mere memory and blushed, he grabbed his tail to still it.

Gods, he was going crazy.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[geewintg]

You're trying to write an emotionally-charged scene but doesn't feel emotional enough?

Do you wish your scene feels like this? (the following piece is really important and heavily mentioned to the tips down below but you can skip cause I'll provide specific lines anyway)

"He hated him because he was still hung up over the past. He hated that he changed. He hated that he could no longer despise the boy like he used to for what he did to him.  

Those were the reasons he hated admitting. Because it made him sound petty. And he hated to admit that it affected him more than it should have, that the boy had power over his emotions, over his thoughts, over his feelings.   

He feels vulnerably offered.  

It makes him feel weak.  

He’s weak.  

For a deity, how unacceptable. How pathetic.  

But still, no matter, all the times he spent with him in that little space they made themselves comfortable, no matter how brief, it made him forget about the duties that await him in his pyramid.  

He made him feel normal. 

He was offered cooked meals. He scolded him for offering Collei bland palate. He made him do stuff, with disregards of his status, whenever he chanced upon it. He, for once, felt what it's like to have a home .

And he hated that he could no longer despise him for what he did. Because he unintentionally gave him the things he craved for—normalcy." -Ephemeral Twilight

I was asked before how to make your writing gut-wrenching. And I was left stumped, because I've never really thought of it before. I just let my fingers do the typing. But I gotta help this person somehow, so in doing so, I came up with advices I think might help in order to write in the style you so perfectly desire: (I am by no means expert, but let me know if some of this helped you in starting to write it)

Adding correlation - as someone who describes the environment a lot, I fall too often into descriptive writing -- going too much into detail on the background setting. Fortunately, there's a work around that I found in order for some of your writing to not go to waste: adding correlation. For example: The sun was scorching. It burned his feet as he treaded along the vast empty dunes, cursing it with the same tongue that used to sing praises of its glory. Adding correlation from the background to your character is the first step of breaking the ice of stagnant writing (mostly when you find yourself having nothing to say in the first few paragraphs). You're creating a framework of what goes on in your character's head (which is vital if you want to affect readers through your character's thoughts) while setting the scene to your readers. It also acts like a build up. Another example: The wind bites her skin yet it was numb compared to her heart thrown and left frozen in the winter storm.

Reading emotional materials - by reading any material that conveys the emotion you wanted to write, you're setting yourself in the perfect headspace to imagine and create the scene. As corny as it sounds, you need to feel it. How do you think actors were able to portray their character's emotions so well if not for feeling and experiencing it themselves? It won't work if you're experiencing an emotion contradicting to the emotion you want to portray. So yes, exposing yourself to any media that has conveys the exact vibe you want is a good way.

Repetition - repetition emphasizes. It creates desperation -- "longingness" of something what could have been; of what they truly wanted or what they truly despised. It gives you the opportunity to play around why they specifically felt that way, all the reasons to say, all of the things to convince your reader to feel the same way. Take for example the piece above: "He feels vulnerably offered. || It makes him feel weak. || He’s weak. || For a deity, how unacceptable. How pathetic." To this character, being seen as vulnerable is the worst type of thing, which also stays true to most people. People don't like being seen as weak. It emphasizes it. It's the thing he hated the most because his ego (something related to an emotional-aspect) cannot afford him to. And another example is the obvious, almost gagging (don't cancel me, I wrote the piece lol), repetition of hate: "He hated him because he was still hung up over the past. He hated that he changed. He hated that he could no longer despise the boy like he used to for what he did to him. || Those were the reasons he hated admitting. Because it made him sound petty. And he hated to admit that it affected him more than it should have, that the boy had power over his emotions, over his thoughts, over his feelings. || And he hated that he could no longer despise him for what he did."  Additionally a special mention: "...that the boy had power over his emotions, over his thoughts, over his feelings..." over, over, over... This is also a repetition itself, or what at least I consider it to be. It still creates that emphasis you want to go for.

Contradiction - contradiction and repetition can go hand in hand for a more effective impact. Because in our examples previously mentioned such as "He feels vulnerably offered. || It makes him feel weak. || He’s weak. || For a deity, how unacceptable. How pathetic." this was contradicted because even though he hated to show vulnerability and weakness, it happened. The thing he hated the most happened. And this: "He hated him because he was still hung up over the past. He hated that he changed. He hated that he could no longer despise the boy like he used to for what he did to him. || Those were the reasons he hated admitting." He hated admitting but still ended up admitting it. It's the psychology play of after making your reader believe about one thing, then you crush it at the end -- because it's the same for your character. They believed this thing for so long that they repeatedly told themselves, convinced themselves, gaslit themselves, only for it to tumble down to realization that that belief was wrong. The character's contradiction of their own convictions.

Well, that's all for now. If you find these tips working for you, then congrats. Glad I could help. Tell me if you need more of this stuff in the future, and also feel free to ask me for more advices. I may not be an expert but I did start somewhere and working my way up so I'm willing to offer the stuff I've accumulated in those years of writing.

[the-faded-1]

It was a clear night. There was nothing to shroud the stars from the naked optic.

It was magnificent.

Optimus wandered silently across the small dunes, previously informing his team that he was going off for a walk and to scout the area before making it a temporary camp for the time they stayed in this area.

A gust of wind picked up in the dead of night, sending sand into the air.

Optimus continued walking up the dune until he came to the top. The moon shined down on the vast desert, its light bright enough for Optimus to see down the dune and beyond. Optimus spotted movement down at the bottom, optics narrowing as he tried to make out what he saw.

No…

The familiar energon signature had Optimus almost stumbling forward, barely tripping over his pedes as he made his way down the dune and towards the signature. Optimus wouldn’t call it excitement or desperation, but he was the last person he was expecting to come across in such a large area.

It felt more than just coincidental.

The war had long since ended, but where did it leave them?

Optimus barely heard from him after they officialized a truce between the Autobots and Decepticons. It was like he just vanished into thin air without a trace. More than once Optimus was tempted to comm Soundwave but decided against it, every time at the last minute. He wasn’t shying away from it per se, but truthfully, what did they have to say if Megatron didn’t say anything to him first?

What would Megatron have to say?

And why did it hurt so much that he had nothing to say?

Optimus made it to the bottom of the dune, massive pedes sinking into the sand. This would make more sense if he could drive, but the sand would only get stuck in his tires. He stopped, noticing the massive frame looking his way. He wasn’t moving, simply staring in his direction. Did he see him? Did he know who he was looking at?

Suddenly, the massive frame transformed, into a Cybertronian jet shooting into the sky. Optimus watched as he faded away, leaving him standing in the sand alone.

A single tear fell from his optic.

Why? Come back!

Optimus remained frozen in place, the cool desert wind rustling through his armour. He clenched his servos, a flood of memories washing over him. The battles, the betrayals, and the rare moments of more than simple camaraderie—they all surfaced as he stood there, feeling the weight of their shared past. Optimus stared at the massive moon, the light making his optics almost glow. The more he let the memories flow freely in his processor, the more painful it became. For millions of years, he had to shun those precious memories, for the mech he came to know and trust was no longer there.

But what now? What was Megatron?

But then, a sound reached his audial, a familiar hum growing louder. He looked up, and his optics widened. The jet was circling back, its silhouette outlined against the moonlit sky. It transformed midair, landing heavily in the sand before him, one knee sunken in the sand.

It took every single piece of metal in Optimus’ frame not to tremble, optics frantically moving from helm to pede, trying to convince himself that this was not a dream and was, in fact, reality.

"Optimus."

The voice was deep, resonant, and unmistakably familiar. Megatron stood before him, his expression unreadable as his forearm rested on his bent knee. Optimus didn’t know what to do, he was at a loss for words. Why was Megatron kneeling? Why did he come back?

“Megatron…” Optimus replied, his voice steady despite the emotions roiling beneath.

For a moment, neither one of them spoke, the vast silence of the desert filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

Optimus took a step forward, and then another. He kept taking small steps until he was before Megatron. His servos reached for Megatron’s arm, jerking back in surprise as Megatron’s gaze snapped to meet his blue gaze.

“Please rise, Megatron. There is no need for you to be on your knee.” Optimus remarked quietly, both of them still watching the other.

A few more seconds.

Finally, Megatron stood to his pedes, towering over Optimus as he always did. Primus, there was something about Megatron that always had this unexplainable pull. Megatron was always the charismatic one, incredibly outspoken and didn’t shy away from speaking his mind.

It was one of the personality traits that was part of the reason why Optimus fell for him to begin with.

“I… I didn’t know if I should approach you.” Megatron confessed, his tone uncharacteristically hesitant. “After everything that happened, I thought it would be best to stay away.”

Optimus felt a surge of conflicting emotions–relief, anger, sadness, and a glimmer of hope. “You…just vanished,” Optimus stated quietly, his voice tinged with pain. Megatron caught onto this, his red optics softening.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Optimus was doing his best to prevent waterworks for their first real conversation since the truce. But it was so damn hard. How else was he supposed to feel? He just came swooping in, kneeling before him for Primus’ sake! The…the implications that notion held…

Megatron looked away, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I needed time. Time to reflect, to understand fully what I had done, and what we had both lost.”

Megatron let his gaze return to Optimus’, seeing the silent hope in his optics that maybe the mech he met 4 million years ago was still in there, somewhere.

“But I never, for one second, stopped thinking about you…about us.”

Hearing this, Optimus took a step closer, his optics searching Megatron’s face. “We both made mistakes, Megatron. But this war is now over. We have a chance to rebuild, to move forward. Isn’t that what we both worked so hard for?”

A flicker of uncertainty flashed across Megatron’s optics as he met his gaze, “Can we? After everything?”

[milesdickpic]

His Little Girl | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader P.85

Click here to see the master list

My loves! We are back for another chapter! I am so excited for you to all experience our favorite girl's 7th birthday! This story has been a long time coming and thank you all so much for still being here with me! PART 1 OF THE TRIPLE POST WEEK! I love you all so much! 💕 Happy reading and enjoy! ❤️

A/n: It's Leia Rey's 7th birthday! It's time to freaking party! 🎉

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: crying, shock, rough-housing-ish, name-calling, making fun of each other, but so much love 💕

Please don't take my work, I will find you. 

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Pinterest

Leia’s 7th Birthday 

You and Bradley stood there excited as you could see Leia approaching with everyone else. Jake was hauling a wagon with games in it, while Nat and Austin each held one of the boys. Leia was skipping over to the area. She hadn’t noticed it was for her yet. 

Right when she reached the top of a sand dune she smiled and pointed over to the party area, saying something back to the three adults with her. She was smiling as she pointed and you could see Jake nudge her to go take a look at this “Luau Area.” She started to run over and when she saw you and Bradley standing there at the beginning of the entrance she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. She covered her mouth and started to cry. 

Jake, Nat, Austin, and the boys caught up with her and she stood there frozen with tears running down her cheeks. You started to tear up and you could hear Bradley sniffling. You could see Austin crouch down next to her then placed a kiss on her cheek and nudged her to come over to her party. She gave Austin, Nat, and Jake a hug before she ran over to you and Bradley. 

She ran and slammed into you and him. Everyone yelled “Happy Birthday, Leia!” As you and Bradley got down on your knees and hugged your daughter. 

Bradley kissed Leia’s head over and over again as you hugged her. “Happy Birthday, my girl. Daddy loves you so much.” He held the both of you in a bear hug.

When you all pulled apart, you placed your hand on Leia’s cheek, wiped her tears, and fixed her hair. “Happy Birthday, My love. I love you, always.” You smiled at her and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Now go and have some fun, baby.” You placed one more kiss on her head as she nodded.  

She looked over at her party and got shy when she saw all her guests. Everyone yelled in surprise when they saw her making her way over to the party. You and Bradley made your way over to Jake, Nat, and Austin. You and Bradley grabbed the boys from Nat and Austin. You gave them all a hug and thanked them for watching the boys and keeping Leia occupied while you and Bradley set up for Leia’s Luau. You all made your way down the beach as Leia greeted all her guests. Bradley handed Luke back to Nat so that he could help Jake set up all the games that were in the wagon. 

You smiled and kissed little Brad on his cheek, “It’s your big sissy’s birthday!” You grabbed one of his little hands and bounced him around. A little grin appeared on his face. 

Nat was holding a sleeping Luke to her chest as you both watched on the party. Austin joined Bradley and Jake to help set up games. You smiled as Leia jumped around with some of her friends from school and said hi to more of her guests. You looked at Nat and smiled.

“I have a huge surprise for Leia. I hope she’s going to love it.” You looked back at your daughter as she ran around her party with her friends. 

Nat came closer to you and patted little Brad’s back. “What did you get for her?” She smiled with curiosity. 

You chuckled. “Not what, Nat. Who?” You widened your eyes at her as she looked at you confused. “Well actually, It’ll be a little gift for everyone.” You smiled back at her as she raised her brows at you. 

“Is that who, here already? Is there gonna be like a clown or something? Or is Bagman just going to be the clown to perform?” Nat started to laugh as you both looked over at the boys trying to figure out how to set up the games. She shook her head, “God, there are three of them and they can’t figure out how to set those things up.” 

You both laughed as you watched all three of them snatch the instruction sheet out of each others hands trying to explain to one another how to put the games together. You shook your head and looked back at Nat. “Close. But he wont be the clown of entertainment.” 

She looked at you with furrowed brows. “Then who?” 

You smiled and waved over to Bradley and the guys, “You’ll see soon, Nat.”

Bradley and the guys came running over to you. Jake looked frustrated as he still held onto the instructions, Bradley was smiling like a big goof at you, and Austin looked at Jake awkwardly. 

“Honey, Jake is so mad because he can’t figure out how to put the game together.” Bradley looked at Jake and laughed. 

Jake rolled his eyes and crumpled up the instructions, “Well I am paired with the dumbest pilot and the guy that gives grown men sponge baths.” 

Bradley laughed, “I don’t think you’re the dumbest pilot, Seresin. But definitely on the list.” 

Jake looked at him with wide eyes and shoved him as they both laughed. “Jerk.” Jake shook his head and threw the crumpled paper at Bradley’s head. 

“I don’t give grown men baths for a living… What do you think I do?” Austin looked up at Jake with confused yet scared eyes. 

Bradley and Jake looked at each other and laughed as they pulled Austin in for a hug. “Bradshaw is a grown man and you gave him a bath. So, I wasn’t completely wrong about your job, Aus.” Jake patted him on the chest.

Austin just shook his head and shrugged. 

Bradley brought his attention back to you and Nat who were standing there with shocked expressions on your faces. 

“What circus act did I just witness?” Nat looked at all three of them with wide eyes and a blank stare. 

Jake came over and wrapped his arm over Nat’s shoulders. “Your favorite one, that you are stuck with for the rest of your life.” Jake smiled big as Nat palmed her forehead. 

Austin took little Brad from you as Bradley came over and hugged you and gave you a kiss on your cheek. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

You smiled and nodded over towards the party. “I have a surprise for Leia and it’s ready!’ You bit your lips and jumped slightly of excitement. 

Bradley looked at you with furrowed brows, “Surprise? There is more?”

You nodded, “YES!”

You pulled Bradley over to the party, “Wait… babe, what else did we get her!?” 

Nat, Jake, Austin, and the boys followed behind you and Bradley into the party.

You and Bradley stood in the middle of the party guests. Bradley leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Babe, what did we get Leia??” Brady sounded so concern and worried. 

You giggled and patted his chest, “Don’t worry about it, babe.”

He looked up confused and then smiled at the guests and waved as you caught everyone’s attention. 

“Hi everyone! Bradley and I just wanted to thank everyone for coming out and being able to make it for our little girl’s 7th birthday. We are all excited to be able to celebrate the coming of not only our little girl, but the day our family was formed.” You looked up at Bradley and smiled. He kissed your forehead. 

Bradley looked up at the guests. “This is my first official time I get to spend with my little girl on her special day.” He got down on his knee and opened his arms to Leia. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of them with you, baby girl.” Leia smiled and ran over to Bradley. He caught her in his arms and picked her up and kissed her over and over again. “I love you, my Leia Rey. happy birthday, Sweetheart.” 

Leia smiled at her dad as everyone started to coo over their little moment. “Thank you, daddy. I love you.” Leia kissed Bradley’s cheek.

You went over and placed a kiss on Leia’s hand and smiled. “Daddy and I… Well I have a gift for daddy and you, Leia Rey.” 

Bradley and Leia both looked at you confused with the same exact facial expression. You reached your hand out for Nat. She came over smiling while Jake and Austin followed behind. “I actually have a gift for all of you.” 

Everyone smiled at you with curious eyes. “Without further stalling.” You looked over to the entrance where their gifts were all setting up. “I know how much you miss home, baby.” You held out your hand to their gifts and everyone turned slowly. “Happy Birthday, Leia Rey. I love you.”

Bradley, Leia, Nat, Austin, and Jake all looked to where you where holding your hand out. There stood Mav, Penny, and Amelia dressed in all matching Hawaiian printed shirts and dresses. 

Bradley dropped Leia down to her feet as they both yelled. “Papa Mav!” “MAV!” Bradley and Leia both bee-lined for Mav, Penny, and Amelia. Bradley playfully pushed Leia over into the sand so he could get to them first.

“DADDY!!!” Leia started to stand up laughing. 

Bradley ran ahead and bear hugged Mav, Penny, and Amelia. “Oh my god! I missed you all so freaking much!” 

Mav patted Bradley’s back. “It’s good to see you up and running, kiddo.” 

Penny kissed Bradley’s cheek, “Oh, Rooster! You look so good! Mav had told me what happened and you are looking so good, honey!”

Amelia hugged Bradley tightly, “I’m glad you’re okay!”

Leia joined the group and squished herself into the group hug. “YOU’RE ALL HERE!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. Bradley took a step back and let Leia get her turn with them.

Mav picked up Leia and covered her in kisses. “Oh my little Jedi! You are so big!! Look at you! Happy birthday, sweetheart!” 

Penny joined in on the hug and kissed Leia’s head over and over again, “My Princess Leia! I missed you so much! Happy birthday, pretty girl!” Penny pushed Leia’s hair from her face as Leia began to cry happy tears.

Mav let Leia down and she hugged Amelia tight. “I’m so happy you are all here!” 

“Happy birthday, Leia!” Amelia gave Leia a present. Leia grabbed Amelia’s hand and ran her over to her friends. “Thank you! I wanna introduce you to my friends!!” 

———-

Bradley’s POV

I made my way back over to you and grabbed little sleeping Luke from Phoenix as you grabbed little Brad from Austin so they could all go and say hello to Mav and Penny. 

I watched as Hangman ran like a giddy little kid in the candy store to Mav. He had his hands flailing around and he was yelling, “MAV! PENNY!” he jumped into them and Phoenix followed behind with her hands in the air. She wrapped her arms around all three of them smiling. Austin joined in after Hangman and Phoenix got their fill with hugs. 

Mav came over to us and was stopped by Phantom and Evelyn. Mav’s eyes went wide and he pulled Phantom in for a hug. “It’s good to see you again, handsome!” 

Mav laughed and patted his back. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world! You remember Penny?”

Phantom gasped and threw his arms out for Penny, “Penny Benjamin! You still look as you did back when we were all getting in trouble! You remember my wife, Evelyn?”

Penny screamed when she saw Evelyn and they hugged and caught up while Mav and Phantom made their way over to you and I. 

I walked away for a second to grab bottles for little Brad and Luke.  Mav made his way over and gasped as he saw you holding little Brad. I watched from a far as his eyes flew out of his head. 

———-

Your POV

Mav came up to you with wide eyes and covered his mouth. In a high-pitched voice, he cooed over little Brad. “Ohhh my gosh! Is this himmm!?” He grabbed his little hands and gave Brad’s little knuckles kisses. “Hey, little Luke!”

Your eyes widened and you started to chuckle. “Mav…”

“Penny! Come here! They have a surprise to show you!” Mav called and waved over Penny. She came over excitedly. 

“What’s the surprise?” Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide when she looked at you holding little Brad. “Whose baby is that, y/n?” She looked at you with squinted eyes. you started to giggle. “Y/n? Whose baby is that??” Her eyes widened when she looked at you. 

You smiled and Mav rubbed his index finger on his cheek causing little Brad to grin. “Can I hold him, y/n?” He started to tear up and you smiled. 

“Of, course you can, Mav. This is one of your grand-babies.” You handed little Brad over to Mav. Mav started to shake with him in his arms. 

“Grand-babies??” Penny was shocked and she started to tear up. “When the heck were you pregnant, y/n!?” She came over and gave you a hug, she held you tight as she patted your hair. 

“I was pregnant during my wedding, and even before that.” you hugged her back and giggled. 

She pulled back and covered her mouth, “WHAT!! I knew it! Those were not wedding nerves!” She pulled you back in tight and held you close. “God, you hid it so well, honey! Congratulations, he’s so beautiful!” She kissed your cheek and joined Mav admire and coo over little Bradley. 

“What’s his name?” Penny looked up at you and smiled. As you were about to say his name 

Mav interjected.  “Luke.” 

Penny looked up at you and smiled.  “That’s a beautiful name! Luke and Leia!” 

Mav nodded, “The little Jedis! His full name, Luke Nicolas Bradshaw.” He smiled down at little Bradley in his arms. 

You looked around and bit your lip. “uhhh.” 

Mav and Penny looked up at you and smiled. “What’s wrong, y/n?” Mav chuckled. 

Bradley finally made his way back over with the bottles for the boys. “Here you go babe, one for you and one for me.” He smiled down at you as he cradled little Luke in his arms. You both looked over at Penny and Mav. They looked down at little Bradley and then back at Bradley holding Luke slowly. 

Mav’s brows were furrowed as he looked back and forth between the baby in his arms and the one in Bradley’s arms. Penny was blinking at you and Bradley as she pointed to the baby in his arms. “Whose baby is that?” 

You and Bradley started to laugh. Mav stood there frozen. “Uhhh, Rooster? Y/n? Whose baby is that?” Penny was still waiting for an answer. 

Bradley shrugged and popped the bottle into Luke’s mouth. “Surprise!” He smiled at the both of them with wide eyes. Mav and Penny looked at each other with wide eyes. 

“We had twins.” You started to laugh as they looked at each other in shock. They looked back at you and raised their brows. 

“TWINS?!”

You nodded as Bradley handed Luke to Penny. 

“Congratulations, you two. More grandkids to watch!” Bradley laughed as they both looked down at the boys still shocked. 

“Holy. Shit.” Mav said as he looked between little Brad and Luke. Penny continued to feed Luke and you handed little Brad’s bottle to Mav so he could feed him. “Wait. So who do I have?”

Penny looked up and raised her brows. “Who is who and what are their names?” She was still shocked. 

Bradley went behind them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. “Penny, you are holding our little Luke. Luke Nicolas Bradshaw. And Mav. you are holding our little Bradley.”

They both looked up at Bradley. Penny and Mav both started to tear up. “Bradley? You named him Bradley too?” Mav started to tear up even more. 

Bradley smiled. “Yup. Bradley Bradford Bradshaw.” 

Mav started to laugh and cry hard. “God, you are just like your old man.”

Bradley nodded his head and started to laugh. “They are beautiful, Rooster.” Penny cooed over the boys as she cried. 

Penny and Mav didn’t want to give anyone the chance to have the boys. They wanted to spend the whole party with them. You looked over periodically and watched as Mav held little Bradley in his hands and looked at him in awe. You watched as Penny took in every single detail of Luke’s face. 

You nudged Bradley and pointed over to Mav and Penny. “Look at them, Brad. They can’t take their eyes off of them.” You chuckled and smiled. You looked up at Bradley and watched him smile goofy.

“They’re in love.” He started to laugh. “They are the most handsomest boys ever. How could you not look at them like that?” Bradley looked down at you and placed a kiss on your head. “They get their glowing looks from their mama.” He smiled and rubbed his thumb on your cheek.

You shook your head and smiled while placing your hand on his, “They look exactly like their dad. They’re handsome because of you.” 

Leia came over and tugged on Bradley’s shirt. Bradley looked down at her and smiled before he picked her up. He placed a kiss on her cheek, “What’s up, my girl?” 

She pointed over to her papa Mav, “Papa Mav is summoning you, daddy.” 

Bradley laughed and let Leia down. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Bradley gave you a kiss before he left to go and sit with Mav and Penny. “Be back in a bit, babe. Go and enjoy yourself. Grandpa is calling for me.”

———-

Bradley’s POV

I made my way over to Mav, dodging a couple of kids that were running around spraying each other with water guns. I chuckled and smiled as Mav looked up at me. 

“You rang?” I plopped myself down on a chair next to Mav and Penny. 

“Bradley.” Mav couldn’t take his eyes off of little Brad. “This is incredible. They boys are perfect. They look like a perfect mixture of you and y/n.” He looked up at me and smiled. 

I shook my head and laughed. “Y/n said they look exactly like Leia Rey when she was a baby, so she thinks they look exactly like me.” Then little Brad started to fuss. I watched as Mav frowned and gave baby Brad a pouty lip. “I got him.” I smiled and put my hands out to grab him.

Mav handed him to me, “Let’s see, Daddy Bradley at work!” He chuckled as he watched me console little Brad. 

I gave little Brad a kiss on his lips and laid him against my chest, “You’re alright, baby. Daddy is here.” I started to rub his back and rock him slowly back and forth. I laid my head gently against his head as he started to calm down in my arms.

Mav leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. He chuckled. “Man, you are just like your old man.” He smiled over at me and patted my back. 

I smiled back and continued to rock little Brad in my arms. “Thanks, Mav. They would have loved them. All three kids are perfect.” 

Mav smiled and nodded as he placed a hand on little Brad’s back. “Most definitely. Goose and Carole would have been all over all three of them.” 

————-

As the party continued, Mav continued to help me watch the boys as you and Penny caught up and made sure Leia was having a great time at her birthday party. 

(Summer Nights by Iration playing in the background) 

I stood by the snacks table picking off a couple of cookies here and there as I held little Brad and rocked him to the beat of the music. Mav joined me and did the same with Luke. We made some small talk and he complimented Leia’s Luau set up. 

“Papa Mav!” Leia came running over with a couple of sea shells in her hand. He smiled at her and squatted down. 

“What’s up, my little Jedi?” He placed his hand on her cheek as he continued to hold Luke close to him. 

“I brought you some sea shells to put on your work bench when you get home!” She held her hands out and was showing them all to Mav. “Here, Papa!” She was trying to put them into his hand. 

I laughed and patted Leia’s head. “Sweetheart, how about you go and ask momma for a bag so you can put them in there for safe keeping?” 

She smiled up at me and nodded, “Good idea, daddy! His hands are already full with Luke!” She kissed Luke’s head before she ran her way over to you. I laughed and shook my head.

Leia came back with the bag full of shells, “Daddy, do you think we can play a game together? Or even make a sand castle!?” She smiled up at me excitedly.

“Of course we can, sweetheart. Let me ask Aunt Nix if she can hold your baby brother first, okay?” She nodded up at me and pointed to a pile of sand. 

“I’ll meet you by the sand hill! Papa Mav, ask momma if she can hold Luke so you can help us!”  She ran for the sand hill and waited patiently with her friends and Amelia.

Mav and I made our way over to you, Penny, and Phoenix. I kissed your cheek and smiled. “I apologize for the interruption, but would you ladies care to care for these handsome boys while papa Mav and I help the birthday girl with a sand castle?” I smiled at the three of you as you started to take little Brad from my arms. 

“Of course, we wouldn’t mind!” Phoenix grabbed Luke from Mav and kissed his cheek over and over again. “I was needing some time with my favorite little men.” Phoenix started to coo at Luke. 

I pointed over at Hangman and Austin as they played a mean game of corn hole. “Oh but your favorite little men are over there?” 

She looked over at them annoyed and looked back at me, “Fuck off, Bradshaw.” 

I covered Luke’s ears, “Geez Trace, babies…” I widened my eyes at her and laughed. She rolled her eyes and I laughed, “Thank you, ladies!”

Mav and I made our way over to Leia. “Daddy, can we burry Papa Mav instead? I want to make him into a mermaid!” Leia looked up at us excitedly. 

I looked over at Mav and he looked terrified. I laughed and patted his chest, “What do you say papa Mav?” I raised my brow at him and he nodded. 

“Anything for my little Leia.” He gulped and laid down on the floor. Leia gave him a towel to lay on as all the kids started to pile sand onto him. 

———-

Your POV

You looked around for Leia for a while because it was time for her cake. You remember that Bradley said they were going to make a saddle castle with her. You walked down the the water and saw there was a group of kids, Jake, Austin, Leia, and Bradley standing around and laughing. You made your way over and patted Bradley’s back. 

“Hey, babe…. Oh my god.” You stood there trying to hold in your laughter. You looked down and saw Mav covered in sand and shaped like a mermaid. “What did you guys do to Mav?” You covered your mouth and Mav pushed his lips together. 

“Sweetheart it’s okay to laugh. They’ve been laughing at me for the last 20 minutes.” Mav looked at you with ‘help me’ eyes.

You started to laugh and then you felt bad and got your self together. “I came over here because we are ready to do Leia Rey’s cake.” You were still trying to hold in your laughter. 

Leia jumped up and screamed. “AH! Finally! Let’s go Papa Mav! It’s cake time!” Leia grabbed your hand and started to drag you and little Bradley to the tent area with all of her guests waiting for her patiently. Her friends all ran behind and followed you three.

Bradley stayed back with Jake and Austin to help Mav out of the sand. They all dusted him off and they all wrapped their arms around each other shoulders as they laughed and made fun of Mav up to the tent. 

Phoenix handed Luke to Bradley as she and Austin went to grab the cake. You were standing at the table with little Brad in your arms and Leia bouncing excitedly in front of you. Bradley came over to the three of you while he cradled Luke in his embrace. Leia gestured for you both to come down to her level. She kissed each of her brother’s on their head. “I love you, babies.” She smiled and patted their heads gently. You and Bradley looked at each other and smiled. He had tears in his eyes. He was so in love with his kids. 

Phoenix and Austin finally brought the cake over and lit the candles. 

“Okay everyone! On three! Ready? One, Two, Three!” Phoenix guided everyone into inning happy birthday. You all sang happy birthday to Leia. She was smiling big at everyone. She was full of joy and love. Her eyes were huge as she was staring at her cake. 

Bradley got on his knee and kissed Leia’s cheek after you all finished singing happy birthday. “Make a wish my girl.” 

She closed her eyes and blew out her candles. “Can I say what i wished for?” She smiled at you and Bradley. 

“But what if it doesn’t come true, babe?” Bradley raised his brow at Leia.

Leia smiled and shrugged, “I think it is already happening, daddy. I wished for us to always be together. Me, you, Momma, Luke, Bradley, and Gunner. Forever.” She smiled slightly as everyone gasped at her wish. 

You and Bradley got down on a knee and kissed Leia over and over again. “We will always be together, sweetheart. Forever and ever.” Bradley caressed her cheek and kissed her head. 

“I love you, Leia Rey. Happy birthday, my big girl.” You kissed her cheek over and over making sure each kiss was louder and harder each time. 

Everyone took their pictures of you and your family. Eventually everyone got to take their turns with taking pictures with Leia and her cake. You and Bradley stepped aside, you had tears in your eyes. Bradley pulled you in and kissed the top of your head and the boys heads. 

“It’s us forever, honey. Seven years of our family. Even though I have only been present for one.” You both started to giggle. “I love you, babe, forever. Thank you for blessing me with a baby girl as great and perfect as Leia.” Bradley held you with his free arm and laid his head on top of yours. 

“Our little girl is finally 7.” You can hear him sniffle. You looked up as you watched him watch Leia take pictures with everyone. He was so happy and over joyed with tears in his eyes. 

“Happy Birthday, my girl.” 

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I can't believe it has been a whole year (Universe Time) of this family.😭 Leia Turning 7 is freaking NUTSS! And BESTIESSS, Papa Mav coming to Hawaii for Leia Girl's birthday 🤩 AND MEETING BOYS BOYS!!!! I can't wait for you all to read the rest of this story 🥹 I'll see you all in the next chapter! 🫶🏼

Leia's Luau guests are in the comments 🥳🌺

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Reader [9]

Description: Layla, Steven and Dove set off towards Ammit’s tomb across the dunes, only Steven and Dove have a heavy confession they’ve each been meaning to make.

Word count: 10.8k

Trigger warnings: MINORS DNI. 18+. SMUT UNDER THE CUT. (What the heck) Fingering, F!reader, blood, flares, guns, canon level murder. Hints at grooming (not between Steven/Marc obviously), hints at toxic relationship. (Based on Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright)

Authors note: I have never written anything smutty in my life, I hope this is okay. It kinda hit me out of no where. Also there will be a full smut chapter when the series is finished as a little treat.

main masterlist | series masterlist

Life seemed to have this horribly funny way of ripping goodness out of Dove’s hands.

Just as Layla had found a match on her tablet for the constellations, coordinates popping up on the screen like a digital bat signal, Khonshu gave a groan of pain even a god couldn’t hold back. He dropped to his knees, one of his boney hands falling to steady himself on the warm sand, the other jutted into the night sky to hold the stars where they watched him weaken.

Dove watched in frozen shock as in a matter of seconds he slipped away into the darkness, though dragged seemed a better term for it.

The Ennead had imprisoned him, just as they said they would.

A flash of relief ripped through Dove as she watched the cruel god slip away, finally freeing the shackles he held around her Steven. A prison that kept him scared, kept him quiet, even more so than that of his own body, was gone.

Though with that went his suit, she thought with a moment of abject horror, frozen in her limbs as if waiting for her god to be ripped from her too.

Her breath caught against her chest, waiting, waiting to be freed from the chains around her legs, the leash around her neck. She wanted this over, wanted to be a gift shoppist again more than anything. She would take hours of Donna’s shrill voice berating her over merchandise any day than this sense of ownership he held over her.

Because if it was just Khonshu imprisoned, the mission would fall onto her shoulders. And she couldn’t do any of this alone, any of it without Steven. She could do none of it without Marc. She would be alone in this again.

She’d rather die than live long enough to see either of them hurt for real this time.

Just get it over with. She near begged the gods. I can’t be the one to save them. I couldn’t even save her, I’m not the one you want for this.

That is, until she watched Steven’s legs give out from beneath him and his eyes roll to the back of his lids, his body going limp, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

“Steven-Steven!” Dove called, lunging to grab him under the arms to hold him steady. But it was no use. His breath gave a rattled huff, his body completely yielding to unconsciousness, nearly toppling her over herself had she not put a hand out to stop the two of them face planting into the course sand.

Hoisting him over to his back, she brought a hand up to his cheek, his eyes flickering closed in REM, shaking his head with more care than she knew she should. She couldn’t find it in herself to strike him any harsher.

Layla fell to her knees beside her, more forceful with her shoves as she pushed his muscled body with a desperate sort of anger, begging him for the both of them to wake up.

“Marc? Marc, come on!” The other woman yelled, bunching his jumper in her fists until her knuckles turned just as white as the alabaster fabric, “Come on! Where are you?”

Then she heard it. Dove felt her ears prick up, an engine stuttering in the distance, tires crunching over sand, a metal rattling of bodywork against a motor.

A car. A truck, full of bodies. Full of guns.

She could hear the bullets rattling in their chambers, hear the men’s breathing, jeering to one another.

Harrow’s men. Or maybe even Mogart’s. She didn’t know anymore. She just knew they spelled danger.

“We have to go,” Dove said exasperated, scrambling to her feet despite the sand shifting under their weight as the sounds approached, “We need to leave now.”

“Leave him, they won’t shoot him if he already looks dead,” Layla huffed, dropping Steven’s arm, grabbing the scruff of Dove’s collar ferociously, “Leave him,”

“We can’t leave him, what if they fire for good measure?” Dove asked, smacking Layla’s hand away from her with a scowl, “I’m not leaving him-”

A blinding light lit up their faces, their heads snapping to where headlights lit up the dunes surrounding them. The wind seemed to hold its breath as the women stood, spooked deers with targets on their backs.

“Stop being so god damn stubborn for once,” Layla seethed, grabbing the younger woman’s arm tight enough to pinch, “We’ll come back for him in a second, now move,”

It took everything in her to listen.

She was all but dragged into a run towards their own vehicle where they had been piecing together the map not even twenty minutes earlier. She hated how funny time was like that.

They waited on bated breaths, hoping the truck would drive past them with no consequence, no interference.

Though of course, that would never happen. That would be too kind.

Bullets whistled past their legs, something bigger than the pistol Layla had held from what Dove could tell, something made for killing quickly, killing messily.

The women winced hearing the trucks engine slow to a low rumble, carefully rolling down the dune as it shot blindly into the dark where they ducked behind the body of their car, Layla’s breath panting loudly in her ear.

She felt her heartbeat in her throat, praying on everything she’d ever believed in that they didn’t see Steven, that they didn’t shoot Layla. It was redundant worrying about herself, though part of her wondered if the God of chaos had been forced into a ushabti too, she wasn’t willing to figure it out by throwing herself in front of the barrel of the gun.

Layla reached up for the cold metal of the handle, clicking it open and practically forcing Dove in by the scruff of the neck into the wagon end of the truck, the grains of sand crunching under her boots as she lay still, waiting for the truck to hopefully pass.

Clambering in after her and shutting the door quietly, Layla ducked down next to her, the sound of their exhausted breaths cutting through the quiet night. She had faced worse than these men, than this one big gun, yet she felt without Marc there to tell her where to hit them, without Steven there to hold her face and tell her how brave she was, she was nothing.

“I saw them running!” One of the men called out, the two women freezing in their spots, “Check around the truck!”

The flickering of the headlights filtered in through the dirty truck windows, dust smattering the glass though Dove still got a clear view of the vehicle cruising around them, circling like a shark in bloodied waters, searching for the rest of the kill.

She felt Layla tense next to her when her boot hit something near the door, a red satchel with a muddied flame printed on the front.

Flames. Fire. There was a crate full of ammunition she could hear rattling around the back of that truck which only meant one thing. Gunpowder.

“Layla,” She whispered, grabbing the woman’s arm and pointing to the red bag, “Are there matches in there?”

“Flares- why?” Layla murmured back, a scowl on her face at the stupidity of the girl to be talking.

Dove hesitated a moment, keeping an eye on the truck as it rolled past them and looped back towards where Steven lay unconscious still. They didn’t have alot of time left. They would surely shoot at him to be sure, and without the suit anymore-

“There’s bullets in that truck,” Dove whispered, meeting the woman’s eyes through what little light the stars gave them, “Flares set on fire when you pull them right?”

Layla’s scowl seemed to drop as she understood what the girl was suggesting. The woman scrambled for the satchel, ripping the zip open to reveal six red, waxy tubes, the metal hooks hanging off as the triggers.

Shoving one into Dove’s hands, she took one for herself, head snapping to the girl nearly ten years her younger.

“You know what you’re doing?” Layla murmured, the two of them looking through the front windscreen where the headlights seemed to zero in on Steven. Steven, who was running out of time. Steven, who would throw himself in front of endless amounts of guns if it meant she was safe. Steven, who would wake up any second now and meet his end in the middle of no where because she wasn’t fast enough.

“You throw yours to get them away from him, I’ll go after them,” She replied hushedly, her hand opening the door quietly, sliding forwards until her legs dangled off the edge of the carriage. That is until a hand latched onto her shoulder to drag her back.

Her head whipped over her shoulder, worried they had been seen already, only to see Layla’s brown eyes unsure. Remorse ate away at her expression, twitching her eyebrows, scrunching her mouth bitterly.

“You had better be careful,” Layla bit, though Dove knew what the meaning beneath it was. Don’t die. Don’t get hurt. I’m sorry for what I said.

Dove nodded, dropping onto the sand silently, waiting for Layla to slip out of and throw her flare away from Steven.

She lost sight of the woman, her soft, tight curls bouncing around the corner of the truck, her own fingers crossing that the woman would stay far out of harm. She knew she was sorry, knew Layla had a way of exploding at her because she was the easiest target, she was the only one who would actually give her the reaction she’d wanted. She’d always known that hurt people, hurt people. And that’s all Layla was. Hurt, at the fact her ex-husband seemed to dodge every phone call, spill every lie, brush off every argument. She couldn’t say she agreed with how Marc handled the subject of Layla, but in the same way she was hurt, Marc was hurt too.

It’s just who they were.

Seeing a flash of red fly into the dunes, and the rumble of the truck's engine as it practically turned on two wheels and flew towards the commotion, shooting at the flare in the hopes of hitting one of them. She saw where the sand sprayed behind the wheels, stepping out behind their car and drawing her arm back for the shot.

Pulling the metal hook out of its socket, a small crack like a party popper sounded from the palm of her hand, and the red flame sprayed out the end. Before the men even had time to switch the gun onto her, she’d thrown it towards the rear of their vehicle, where she now saw a heavy artillery weapon, the clink and rattle of bullets rolling in the seat as the car came to a stop in front of Layla’s distraction.

She heard a shout of shock as her flare made contact, bouncing into the rear, before a white spark flew into the air and fizzled, like a star reaching its supernova within the inky black night.

She worried for a moment that that was it, that was all her brilliant plan could give, until ten more shots of the same ivory light flew into the sky, a crackle lingering in the truck before a huge ball of flame engulfed the car whole. Yells of fright from the passengers were cut off with one final whoosh and the yellow blaze licked into the black once more, silencing whatever protests the men had.

They had died. They had burned at her hand. And yet, thinking back to how suddenly they could have stuffed Steven full of bullets, she struggled to fight the relief that had filled her body.

Steven.

Steven.

Spinning on her heel, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she collided with a hard body, one that seemed to have watched the conflict splayed all over her face in the warmth of the fire. She readied herself to shove them away, to call Layla for help, until she snapped out of her haze and saw a very tired, very sandy face that looked at her as if he’d seen an archangel lighting his way.

Steven.

She said nothing, though she wanted to tell him how pretty his eyes looked in the dark. She wanted to tell him how she’d thought of him every single day since the day they’d met, that he’d be the one to drag her out of the shadows that smothered her, that if there was one thing that could take away her pain, her sorrow, that could make her feel alive again, it was him.

But she didn’t. Because there weren't enough words, wasn’t enough time, to tell him how she felt.

So she pulled him into the tightest hug she could muster instead.

She felt her breath leave her when his arms went around her waist, nose burrowing into her neck, sighing. She didn’t care he was dirty, so was she, didn’t care that he was breathing so close to her skin, she revelled in it in fact. Her every hair stood on end as he kissed her shoulder, bare from where her shirt had ripped, kissed it again for good measure, her whole body shivering under his lips. He was so warm compared to her, she’d felt cold ever since that night she’d died, like a constant reminder she was just a body, and he was so full of life. He was so Steven it filled her heart until she thought it would come running out of her eyes in tears.

“I missed you so much,” He whispered in her ear, as if utterly unaware how receptive she would be to the sound of his voice, “I thought I was going crazy,”

“You’re never crazy, not to me,” She murmured back, feeling him kiss her cheek.

She begged him to kiss her lips next. God she’d missed him. She wanted him more than the syrupy air they stood in, had a greed for him she’d never known before. One kiss hadn’t been enough, she needed more.

She needed all of him.

The pit in her stomach that had laid stagnant for weeks, that had been a dormant pit flared with heat as he pulled away from her, his eyes soppy and dizzy as he watched her, her heart caving in through her chest.

She could kiss him right there and he would kiss her back. She didn’t know how she knew it but she did.

Sighing as she heard Layla shuffling behind her, crawling out of her hiding place behind the truck, she tilted her head forwards until it met his forehead, the feeling of her nose brushing against his having her squeeze him tighter.

“I missed you too, Steven,” She whispered, feeling his body tense as her words fell in blankets on his lips.

Her mouth was right there for the taking, his head screamed to him. Her plush lips were seconds away from his, the scene he’d imagined for himself over and over and over was right there.

Yet they both pulled away, meeting each other's longing gaze once more before they turned back to the truck.

The drum and bass was pounding in her chest, constricting her throat. Her top rode up her stomach, breasts hiked up enough to touch her chin, the mini shorts hugging her legs much too tight for comfort. But this was what they paid for. For her.

It wasn’t so bad as far as nightclubs went. It was fast paced which kept her shifts moving quick, the drinks were easy to memorise, and for the most part she was behind a thick bar that separated her from the handsier customers. But tonight she was on shot duty, her job was to entice as many willing buyers into slamming little vials of jäger that would only drain their wallets. She knew it was unethical, knew she should have more shame, but life was shit like that sometimes.

Matty had brought home a whole baby, Billie, who she loved more than life itself, though the poor little girl couldn’t escape the colic no matter how hard the five of them rocked her, burped her, winded her. She kept them up most nights, and who’d have thought babies were so expensive.

Billie and Matty alone took the majority of their funds, if not the bills on the house, if not them then it was Sammy being bailed out of the holding cell every other weekend for “disturbing public peace”, that one she could believe.

Joey, her clever clever boy, had managed to get a scholarship to see him through most of university, but that didn’t negate the fact he was so busy with his extra classes, being the genius child he was, he hadn’t the time for an extra job to contribute to the family.

And then there was Mikey.

Mikey, who she had pretended to ignore came home with bloodshot eyes or a manic sort of excitement, or a slackened jaw. Mikey, who had done what he did best and tried to make friends, only to get mixed with the wrong crowd and end up addicted. Mikey, who needed to be sent to the very expensive rehab downtown quickly if they had any chance of pulling him out of this habit before he found himself too deep.

Times were tough, eighteen-year-old Dove liked to think she was tougher.

She pretended to ignore the way the men’s eyes trailed her body like a public footpath, barely any acknowledgement in their eyes that she was human and not just a nice ass and a tight top. She pretended they didn’t brush against her one too many times for it to be an accident, or even the fact they tipped her bigger if they were brave enough to brazenly touch her stomach, the soft of her arms, the plushness of her legs as she walked through the sea of dancers.

They began to blur into one horrid mess of men she choked out thanks to as they handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change.

“You’re worth more than that, you know?” A voice interrupted her, where she stood near the bar, the waitress refilling her tray with shots.

Golden painted eyelids flicked up as she caught sight of the man, ready to give a catty remark when she saw someone leaning against the glass countertop, sticky residue of sweet alcohol under his neat suit. Certainly out of sorts in a place like this.

“You think?” She asked, boredly, picking at her fingernails as the man spoke. She couldn’t lie to herself, he was handsome. Not the most handsome man to ever flirt with her, though the others usually were slurring and asking if they would get their drinks free if they give her something nice in return. This man seemed sober, however, his drink small and barely touched, “Good to know,”

“I think a girl like you deserves to have the drinks brought to you on a silver platter,” He said cheekily, sipping his drink slowly as the bartenders looked between her and the man with teasing smiles.

“Don’t bother, Frank,” Eddie said, shaking a cocktail over his shoulder with little more than an eyelid batted, “She’s hard to get. Even said no to a date with me a few times,”

“How could I ever be so cruel to turn down such a stud?” She sneered, though the grin on her face told an entirely different story. She was kidding, ofcourse. “Such a pretty boy, and yet my answer is still the same. I don’t have time for boys,”

“Who said anything about boys?” Frank asked, aghast, placing a hand on his chest, “I would never expect a grown woman like you to want a boy. It’s a man you need.”

She was painfully aware of how much older than her he looked, easily approaching his thirty year mark if his grown attire and mature voice was anything to go off of.

It had been her birthday two weeks ago.

“A man, huh?” She asked cockily, rolling her eyes at the lust in his eyes as she became meaner to him. Men were so predictable. She treated him nice, he was interested. She was a bitch to him, he wanted her more. “Let me know if any of you find one,”

With that, she slid the silver tray of shots off the bar and took off into the sea of people, a little snigger leaving her lips at the way Frank watched her like a hawk.

She had certainly not been expecting a hand to grab her by the belt loops on her shorts, spinning her back to where she had just come from, only to be met with the grey eyes of the man at the bar that she thought she’d left in the dust.

“Are you out of your mind-” Dove cried, slapping his hand off her, though his smile only widened with a snicker of his own.

“One date?” He asked, tugging her closer by the front of her shorts, “One date is all I ask,”

“You don’t even know my name,” She bit back, back when she had it in her to be mean, when he hadn’t ripped the disobedience out of her.

His finger came up to flick the name badge on her chest that she purposely stole from someone else, the one reading Sandie. She never gave out her real name, not just for her safety but for her boys too.

“One date, Sandie,” Frank said, producing a business card out of his pocket, “Just your start date,”

She recoiled. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting what so ever. She’d thought he was flirting, she’d been so sure of it. But a job offer, that was something else.

Ripping the card out of his fingers, she read the sparkly red writing on the front.

for a good night, simply follow the yellow brick road

-frank osbourne

“This is the fakest looking piece of shit I’ve ever seen,” She retorted, which only made him laugh at her attempt of damaging his ego, “I bet this number isn’t even real,”

“No?” He goaded, stuffing his hand even further into his pocket to pull out a wad of twenties.

Her eyes widened as he wedged the roll of money into her front pocket, squeezing it into the fabric where it clung to her skin. Her mouth bobbed open once, perhaps to ask what he did for a living or if he was compensating for something smaller elsewhere. But the usual smartmouth she had on her was gone.

In fact she couldn’t even say anything when he picked up a shot off her tray and slammed it back right there and then on the dance floor, the black liquor dripping down the corner of his mouth.

He smiled at her, wiping it away with the back of his expensive cuff, diamond cufflinks she’d missed at first glance flashing under the strobe lights as the beat in the song dropped and rattled through her chest.

“Keep the change, honey,” He yelled, winking at her smoothly and disappearing back into the crowd as if he had never even been there.

She was embarrassed at how fast she pocketed his number.

Her body was jolting forwards, saved luckily by the seat belt wrapped over her chest, a small gasp crawling out her lips.

She realised with a quick look out the front of the window that they had come to an abrupt stop, a terracotta mountain face staring back at them through the bullet holes cracking the windscreen.

Seeing Layla’s stoic expression and the tension that immersed the car as she woke up, she felt whatever words had been said while she slept bite at her skin, rubbing the sleep dust from her eyes.

“Damn, girl. What did the brake pedal ever do to you?” She muttered, and she hated the way her tummy flurried at the sight of Steven’s bemused smile. She loved making him smile. She saw the bags that dragged at his soft doe eyes, wanted to grab his chin and force him to look at her to get just a moment more of his honeyed gaze, his pretty eyelashes, his expressive brows.

“We’re on foot from here,” Layla ordered, unbuckling herself and hopping out the side of the truck, slinging her rucksack over her back. Dove thought for a moment if she should ask what had happened while she had been asleep in the back seat, yet then she thought better of it. Layla was a bear she never wanted to poke with a stick, let alone more than she already had.

“Good sleep?” Steven asked, swivelling around his position in the passenger side, watching her carefully with a giddy smile.

She licked her lips, fiddling with the tips of her nails, where the odd one had begun healing, where they didn’t hurt as much since she’d stopped gnawing at her loose skin.

“Not as good as our sleepovers,” She mumbled into the quiet of the car, the air like the inside of a candy floss machine; sweet and wispy as he giggled.

“Never,” He replied, the two of them sharing a childish glee. They near jumped out their skin when Layla’s knuckles came down on Dove’s window, harsh and interrupting.

“Are we going, or what?” The woman said loud enough for them to hear the frustration in her tone even through the thick glass.

Guilt flashed across the younger woman’s face as she unlatched her door, the desert heat smacking her in the face like a hand.

Layla simply rolled her eyes at the two bumbling idiots, the way Steven seemed to half tumble out of his own seat just to be near her faster, the way it was clear from the way their hands kept falling to their sides they itched to touch even for a single moment.

She kissed her teeth, spinning on her heel as they looked to her for direction, feeling more akin to a babysitter now Marc didn’t have the body. She hated him when he was in control, hated him when he wasn’t. The entire idea of him was exhausting her, the knife twisting deeper when Steven told her Marc had agreed to disappear without a single goodbye for Steven’s sake.

It wasn’t that she wanted him back. But she was only human. She would have appreciated a real goodbye at least.

“This way. Map says they should be just on the other side of this gorge.” She called behind her, Dove and Steven trailing after her mindlessly, their eyes flicking up to one another wordlessly every few steps.

They took it that Layla wanted some time to herself as she took off on her own, muttering under her breath with a sneer from what they could see. She would keep close enough to listen for trouble, but far enough that she had some peace with her thoughts.

Dove felt a guilty sense of gratitude that her and Steven had a moment alone. She hadn’t known such calm in weeks.

“Marc said-” She started after a few minutes of quiet, “He said you didn’t know about all of this before. How are you doing, finding out you’re sharing your body with a whole other person I mean,” She prompted, chancing a glance at his face, his lip tugged between his teeth.

“Honestly,” He sighed, his tired eyes falling on her face that gazed back with nothing but worry. No judgement, no fear. Never from her. “Honestly, it’s frazzled me a bit. I mean it’s like being in a dream where I’m watching everything happen around me but I’m stuck in the backseat shouting how shit a driver Marc is-”

She couldn’t help the small chuckle that fell from her lips, the one that had him smiling too, not missing the way her shoulder bumped him lightly.

“It’s like I’m yanking on the reins, trying to get my own body back to being mine, and yet no one’s listening, you know?” He continued, and she felt the lump shift in the bottom of her throat.

Yes. I know exactly what you mean, Steven. I think you’re the only person who can ever know, only person since Grace who has ever known me-

And Marc. They were the only two to understand.

She nodded silently, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Oh god, what am I saying?” Steven muttered cursing to himself, looking at her with sorrowful eyes, “Seth still has you, doesn’t he? It was only Khonshu who they punished.”

She nodded again, keeping an eye on the ground as the terrain became a bit more rocky, stepping down carefully where she saw Layla’s boot print.

“Love, you have to know, that evening in the museum-” He began, following in her footsteps, stopping when his foot slipped on the grainy bank, feeling her hand grab his own, the very touch catching his breath as he stepped down safely to the rest of the sand. “Thanks- in the museum, I never meant for you to get hurt-”

“Steven, it’s okay, you don’t need to say that,” She brushed off bashfully, turning her head to the ground and pulling away from his saccharine touch.

But he wouldn’t let her. She needed to hear it. Needed more than the fair and few nice words Marc had given her the past few weeks. Not when she’d endured so much, so much for him.

He grabbed her hand again, feeling the cold skin under his warm palm, not letting her slip away so fast this time as her eyes flicked up to his and stuck as they traipsed through the sand.

“No, you shouldn’t have been hurt that day. You shouldn’t have had any of this happen to you, and I’m sorry, Dove.” He said perhaps the most serious she’d ever seen him and all she could do was nod wordlessly. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess because of me,”

“It’s not your fault, Steven,” She murmured, squeezing his hand with a frown, “It’s not Marc’s either. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, end of.”

“Still, I’m sorry it happened,” He said, bambi brown eyes falling over the planes of her face, “I promise, Marc and I will find a way to fix it when this is over,”

She smiled again, and he could swear he could feel his chest rattling with his own heartbeat. It was terrifying the effect she had on every inch of his body, the way his stomach and heart seemed to butterfly the moment she looked at him, the way her eyes softened under his gaze, the same woman he’d wanted even after so much hurt.

“It’s not so bad anyway,” She said, her attention returning to the path Layla trekked along, her chocolate curls glistening in the sunset, her lithe figure just close enough to see where she followed her tablet’s directions, “Marc has been a big help, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see me again after this. I can’t imagine he likes me very much,”

“Who wouldn’t like you?” Steven asked, as if it were the most obvious question out there. He felt Marc writhe with a flick of sorrow inside the body, the feeling of being on the outside still unusual to him. “I think he likes you just fine.”

She shook her head with a doubtful smile, “If you say so, Steven,”

“No, honestly!” He pushed, and she only snickered more as he pulled her closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I mean don’t tell him this, but I think he likes you more than he even likes me,”

“Me?” She giggled, entertaining the cheeky look in his eyes with another nudge to his shoulder, “Why? All I’ve done is annoy him since the day I saw him in my room and thought he was you,”

“Well, you’re my best friend for one,” Her cheeks heated at that, “And you’re the kindest person to ever walk the planet. And you’re honest, most honest person I know,”

Her smile dampened, not that he seemed to notice as he was lost in a dizzy world of his own, his thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. Honest. That’s what he valued about her. That she was honest.

She felt the life suck out of her stomache.

“Steven-” She started, her chest sunken. She was sure she could feel every breath rattling around the empty chamber, grabbing her throat.

Liar. They whispered. Liar, liar, liar.

“No, I know you’re going to go all shy, but you are, you’re the only one who doesn’t hide stuff from me like I’m a child, like Marc, all he does is keep things from me,” It was torture. Actual torture. It was as though he was bringing the knife down onto her chest with every sweet word, words that he meant to soothe and warm, words that tore and mutilated her. “You would never do that, now would you?”

It took her a moment to realise he asked a question, took a moment for her to snap out of the wallowing guilt that threatened to drag her under.

She needed to tell him. Needed to have it out with him, tell him what a disgusting, used up mess she was, tell him what she had done to Frank, tell him what she had let happen to Grace. He would be horrified, he would hate her.

She needed to tell him.

But instead she said;

“Never, Steven,”

They continued through the crevice in the land until they came out the otherside, onto a wide sandy ledge, Layla already scouting out across the remaining land.

“There they are,” She called over her shoulder as Dove and Steven caught up, the former much quieter than she had been initially, “Let’s keep moving. Looks like they’re already inside. We’ll need to find another way to beat them to Ammit.”

“After you, love,” Steven said with a besotted smile, holding a hand out for Dove to follow, “Promise I’ll save you if you fall,”

She smiled at him kindly, the ache in her chest weakening as she focused on the task at hand. He would understand. He would understand her reasoning for lying, he had to understand-

She stepped on in silence, carefully following Layla’s bootprints down the steep decline, the sharp rock edges scrutinising her every footstep. It wasn’t for another thirty minutes until they stepped foot on even ground, nearing the deserted campsite, fires reduced to a pile of small embers, not a soul in sight.

That is, until the trio talked to the centre of the camp, all three of them on high alert for any of Harrow’s men lingering for intruders.

Dove had barely seen the taupe four legged creature behind her until it bleated in her ear with a low grunt.

She squealed, stumbling back into Steven’s awaiting arms that wrapped around her shaken figure, her eyes wide as she turned to see two large onyx eyes blinking down at her through inch long lashes, munching happily on some hay.

A camel.

She felt her face warm as she heard the other two begin to snicker at her skittishness, Steven’s chest rumbling behind her with laughter. He stroked her hair softly, “Told you I’d save you,”

“S-sorry,” She muttered, releasing herself from him with a sheepish grin. Her hand came up to the camel’s snout to give it a short rub, the peach fuzz tickling her palm.

“You’d be scared of your own shadow following you,” Layla teased in probably the nicest tone she’d used all day. It seemed a brisk walk where you could curse out your ex all you wanted did the world wonders.

“You try having a god of violence following you, see how comfortable you are with bastards sneaking up on you,” Dove retorted, using the tips of her nails to scratch behind the camel’s ear, his lashes batting sweetly down at her.

Layla set off further into the camp, now it was clear they were the only ones there, urging them towards where an old mine shaft entrance seemed to open up into the middle of another mountain crest, undoubtedly where Harrow’s men had entered.

“Let’s check for supplies,” The older woman suggested, tightening the strap of her backpack with a small squint, the last of the Egyptian sun beating down on them.

Dove nodded, heading off towards one of the nearest tents, seeing a handful of tools resting against crates, small army grade beds set up, raised off the floor. She dug around the few crates, to find the odd bit of clothing, jackets she didn’t need, a torch she flicked on only to find it had run out of battery.

She snagged a few bits of mountaineering rope, tucking it into her satchel Layla had given her from the truck, a pickaxe she held and quickly saw how impractical it was to carry around.

The knife stared at her from on top of the bed. She should pick it up, she knew it was smart to defend themselves, if not for her then for Layla. Or for Steven. Sure, she would be fine, but they were human.

Her hand shook as she held the leather handle, the blade a good eight inches and covered with a rusty brown liquid she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She wasn’t there anymore, she repeated to herself in a mantra, she wasn’t with him anymore. He was gone, he could only haunt her now. She did what she needed to-

Dove was quick to wipe the blood off the metal onto one of the nearby jackets, stopping only when she could see her dishevelled appearance staring back at her in the shine of the blade. Chucking it into the backpack with the rest of her find, she stepped out the tent, heading towards the big canopy she’d seen Steven head towards.

Their conversation from earlier still gnawed at her gut, twisting and writhing inside her like a rot that ate at her. She needed to tell him. He would despise her, he would find her sickening to so much as look at, but she needed to. He deserved the honestly he thought he found in her.

Once they’d stopped Ammit she would tell him. She would hate herself every second until that moment, hate herself every second after too. She would be alone again, she understood. But even if her sweet, sweet Steven forgave her and wanted anything to do with her, there was not a chance in any hell that Marc would allow her around him. He might even turn her in himself, he’ll probably regret saving her life after all. He might even carry out some of Khonshu’s vengeance, might just finish her off, make her pay for lying to Steven, lying to him, liar, liar, liar-

“I know I’m not alone-” There was shouting. But it wasn’t that of Harrow’s men, it wasn’t angered, it wasn’t an order. It was Steven. It was raw, wounded. “I know I’m bloody not alone. I’ve got Layla, and I’ve got Dove. She’s got my back more than you ever have, Marc,”

This was wrong. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping, especially when Steven and Marc seemed to be at odds with one another, it seemed intimate, like watching family fight. But Steven sounded upset, god she hated that sound, he sounded like a dog backed into a corner, unsure, lashing out.

There was no verbal response as she stepped closer, one hand on the drape that acted as a door, preparing to call for him, ask him to tell her everything so she could just fix it for him.

“I appreciate your concern, mate, I really do-” Steven continued, a bite to his words she rarely heard, a snappy tone worlds away from the sweetness he addressed her with. This was violating his privacy, this was wrong, she needed to go in, needed to help him- “So what if I do? You and Layla are divorced, and I definitely didn’t sign any papers or say any vows. The way I see it, I love her and even if theres the smallest chance Dove feels the same way about me, I don’t want you being a grumpy git ruining it for me-”

Her eyes widened. I love her. He loved her? Her heart pounded behind her chest, far harder than anytime it had from fear, from anger, from guilt even. It consumed her lungs, swelling with a warmth that numbed her legs, her hand drawing back the flap to enter the tent.

She had to see him. Had to hear him say it for real.

He cut himself off hearing her enter the tent, his breath catching in his throat. He prayed for a second it was Layla, it would be so much less humiliating, less to explain if it were, though he was sure he was about as flushed as a school boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he spun on his heel to see her gobsmacked face staring back at him.

“D-Dove?” He spluttered, nearly knocking himself on his arse as he stepped back, practically falling away from her, the very sight of her burning him, “W-we were talking- just talk about-”

“Say it again,” She said quietly, yet it spun the room into a stifling silence of its own.

Steven breathed heavily, gasping for a breath that seemed to come too late as he felt his brow begin to sweat, his ribs rattling with a difficult sigh.

“I don’t-don’t know what-what you’re…” He hadn’t even the heart to finish his sentence as she stepped fully into the tent, the drape slipping over her shoulder fluidly, her eyes wild, desperate.

“Say it again, Steven,” She begged, and he could hear her laboured breaths about as hard for her as it was for him.

He gulped, his mouth becoming as dry as it was outside of this little bubble they were stuck in, bringing the cuff of his jumper up to swipe away the sweat that bunched up at his temple.

“Well, the thing is,” He started shakily. He had to tell her, rip the plaster off. He could only hope she would ever, could ever feel the same, even if he was enamoured with her and she just wanted him to entertain herself for a while, he could die happy. Even if she realised he really was the weirdo everyone at work avoided like the plague, he would live forever grateful to have been given a chance. He had to tell her, her eyes were too big, too warm to say no to, “See, the thing, love, is I think- no, I-I know, I-” He continued, his arms and legs numb with the shock of seeing her here, shock of what he was confessing after so long, “I love you,”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, her mouth gaping open, showing off her teeth that blew a held breath past them, her chest rising and falling irregularly as they settled under the weight of his words.

“You don’t need to say anything- or do anything-” He carried on after she stared at him with a gobsmacked expression and he began to fear the worst, “or even feel the same-” He felt like an idiot, felt like his face, chest, body was on fire, “If you want to stay friends, that’s alright with m-”

It only took her two full strides before she had grabbed his face with a fervour she had only ever dreamt about and taken his lips onto her own, silencing his bumbling words hotly.

Her body melted against his, pressing up against every crevice as he gasped into her mouth, hands squeezing into nervous fists at his sides before they seemed to wake up and grab her hips, feeling the plush fat underneath her shirt.

He made a sound, somewhere between shock and joy, something that slipped into a whine as her fingers wove through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Wait-” He gasped in the small moment they broke apart, his eyes fluttering open to see her face more at peace, more blissed than he’d ever seen, “Dove-”

“More.” She mewled, her face scrunching in desperation, brows pulling together as if in pain to be parted.

It took little to no thought on his part what came next after hearing her plea. Steven had never been one to take control, never thought he would be kissing a woman with so much heat, let alone her.

He tugged her closer, harder than before, so sudden she all but fell into him where he was waiting with dry lips that pressed against hers so hard she could feel his teeth behind them. His hands wrapped around her waist, clawing at the bottom of her spine, fingertips pressing into her skin as if worried he’d feel her slip through them like sand.

She breathed heavier into his mouth, whining like a dog for affection, her fingers weaving further into his chocolate curls and squeezing.

He gave an open mouthed bleat of surprise as she bit down on his lip, his own hand migrating up, up under her shirt, following her bare spine, feeling every groove, every mole, every millimetre of skin with a fire that burned her with feverish tingles. He seemed to freeze when he got to her bra, as if to forget such things existed, because he really did forget where and who and what they were wearing, his mind entirely unravelled, shedding all thoughts other than her, her, her.

He didn’t care that her shirt rode up as his arm pushed on, blunt nails pawing at her skin, until they reached the base of her neck, further until he grabbed at the roots of her own hair. He didn’t care for the surprise in her yelp as he flipped the two of them around, pressing her against the post in the centre of the tent, the thick wood scratching at her back, his hand protecting her head as he kissed even harder.

“Steven-” Marc’s voice pulled him out of his paradise. He couldn’t believe he was kissing her, that she was letting him kiss her. He couldn’t believe the way she grabbed at him just as tight, as if she felt the same frenzied need for his body on hers that he did, as only shown by the way she tried to pull him back when he disconnected their lips, “Steven, stop it. Steven-”

“Steven-” She whined, and if there was any chance of him listening to the American man screaming at him from the mirror, the same mirror he had been in a heated row with when she had first entered, that flew out of the window the moment he heard her soft voice in his ear.

He was so sure he had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

“Steven, stop it. This isn’t safe.” Marc tried to command again, his voice a venomous hiss, thick with something sad, only Steven didn’t listen.

Instead, his lips migrated to the bottom of her lips, catching the corner of them, his hand in her hair tugging tighter as she whispered his name again, the laboured breaths rattling against her chest that pressed impossibly closer to him. His hand reached up past her head, ripping the mirror from the nail on the wooden beam, tossing it far enough away he barely heard the clink of the glass breaking into three pieces.

“What was that for?” She whispered, her breath catching when he moved further down her face, a nip to her jaw, before he reached the soft, velvety skin of her neck, the air sucking out of her at the point of contact.

“Marc talks too much,” Was all he said, before he dove into kissing her pulse point, the beat jackhammering against her plush skin, vibrating on his lips as he settled back into kissing the very soul out of her.

She gasped a laugh, right hand remaining in the thicket of his hair as the other detached to reach for the toned fat of his hip bone, the sensation making him groan, flinching as her fingers glided under his own shirt.

He was a man starved, kissing harder and harder with every whimper of approval he received, a note to not stop whatever it was he was doing if it meant she would keep sounding so heavenly.

He tensed as her hand moved over his stomach, feeling over the wear and tear scars he had always wondered how he got. Ofcourse, being who he was now, he knew they were from Marc running all over the world, risking his skin for a moon god they both despised, the same skin she stroked softly where they raised in ugly white lines from his stomach.

He wanted to say something clever, say something to make her laugh, maybe about how Marc wasn’t as good a fighter as he seemed, but his every brain cells vanished when her fingertip so much as traced the hem of his trousers, teasing him with a slight tug at the material.

He felt the cotton brush against where his boner crushed against his soft tummy, harder and more vulnerable than he had ever felt it. The months spent pining after this woman did him no favours, granted him no justice as he melted at the knees under her touch. He felt her smile, not cockily nor with any semblance of lust, just happy. Happy to have him so close, feel him pouring over her with an affection she never deserved.

Feeling no signs of rejection, she tugged at his hemline again, her fingers looping under his boxers this time, the sensation of the warm dusk air flooding his underwear and hitting his sensitive tip like a freight train, the feeling enough to rip him from kissing at her throat with a gasp, his forehead falling down to rest on her collarbone, eyes squeezed together in a near pained mewl.

“Love-” He murmured, hand still grabbing at the back of her locks, pulling tighter when she tugged his clothes again, exposing him for the briefest of seconds to the thick air they’d found themselves in, “You make it so hard to think when you do that,”

“Do what?” She asked, the innocence in her tone snuffed out by the lust twinkling in her eye as she looked to him, gaze bleary, face puffing out from the thrill of it all, her chest rising between the two of them, taking in enough air to sustain a bird mid-flight.

He smiled back at her, a look of adoration and pure, unbloodied happiness smothering his face as he leaned in to kiss her lips a few more times, each one a little braver than the last as he nibbled at her lips, albeit a little too excited. But she didn’t care, it only made her smile wider.

“I want you so badly,” He said, the tips of their noses meeting as his forehead pressed against hers, sharing each other's breaths as her eyes shut in a dizzy sweet glow.

“Have me,” She replied without a beat of hesitation, pressing a kiss to his lips again, “I was always yours to have,”

If he thought he couldn’t get harder, he was sorely mistaken.

His stomach flurried with what felt like a sea of warmth that spread down to his legs, numbing his body as it crawled over his olive skin. He wanted to devour her with a hunger he had never known, wanted to commit every inch of skin to memory, wanted to kiss her until they both lost breath and then kiss her some more, even if his lips turned blue and his brain shut off from deprivation, because he was already feeling giddy from the taste of her alone.

“Really?” Steven asked, his nut brown eyes fat with puppy love, the hearts practically swirling in his gaze like a comic book, “I’ve wanted this for so long. Pictured a bed and candles and chocolates, the whole shebang,”

She giggled at his Steven-like ways that hadn’t faded away even when his lust was as clear as the boner that poked at her leg.

“The whole shebang?” She echoed with an amused smile, but the desire for more had yet to die out, “That sounds lovely, Steven, but there’s just one problem.”

“Which is?” He asked, the frown that flashed over his face smoothing out when he felt her kiss him again, a sharper bite to his lip than before, a harsher tug at his boxers to where she stood patiently waiting, her touch edging even closer to where he wanted her most.

“I want you now.” She whispered, trailing off into a whine, “Please,”

He stared at her with a slack jaw, only spurring her to kiss along the bone with a sweetness soft enough to rot teeth.

Pulling her hair back firm enough to move her away, not hard enough to hurt, he forced her back into his line of sight again, his eyes darker than she would have thought possible for a sweetheart like him.

“You ask me like that ever again and I’ll give you anything,”

A breathy laugh bled into a gasp as his hand released her head, moving down to her flowy trousers, the elastic waist giving in almost too easily as his large, warm hand skirted across the skin of her stomach, goosebumps chasing after the tips of his fingers as they brushed gently over her skin too quickly.

He wanted to kiss every spot of the velvety plushness he could get to, but he could save that for another day, instead he knew exactly where he wanted the most.

“Are you sure-”

“Please,” She whined, his fingers that lingered at her bare hipbone, freezing for a moment before they edged towards the lacey hem of her underwear.

The two of them gasped as his shaking hands went further, crossed the line in the sand, went further down. Steven was sure the air was sucked entirely from his lungs when he brushed over soft, neat hair, as if the feeling of it woke him up from whatever trance he was in.

“Oh my god,” He whispered against her cheek, nose pressed against her temple as she mewled under his palm, melting into where his other hand held her waist, “Oh god-”

He dared himself to go further, though he was sure his heart was in his throat. He could stake his life on waking up in his bed any second now, ankle tied up, a raging boner against his sleep shorts. This was too much for his poor, tender pulse, the sound of the thumps ringing loud as her voice in his ears.

Shaky hands ventured down, until they reached her waiting entrance, already soaked from where his kisses had weakened her insides, melting her into putty under his saccharine lips.

Fearing she would moan all the louder, her hands returned to his shoulder blade, looping under his arm that was busy trailing light touches over where her cunt waited patiently for more of him. She pulled his face back to hers, kissing him hard where she could groan comfortably, the sheer thrill and terror congealing in her gut if they were found in this position. It made her want him more, because no one had ever wanted her, her, so much as to risk their own life.

She felt herself squeak into his searing lips, a drawn out kiss that branded her for all to see, all to know that she was entirely his, when his index fingers curled up, exploring, mapping out what got the best reaction.

“You’re so-” He tried to say. Wet. But she had pulled him back for more the moment he tried to pull away, groaning as his digits slipped between her sex effortlessly.

It was then that he braved another finger, pushing just that bit further into her, still relatively unsure about what he was doing.

“You can go harder,” She seemed to sense his hesitation, but then why wouldn’t she. She knew him sometimes better than he knew himself. Read the exhilaration that faltered on his face as if as easy as flipping a page in a book, “You won’t hurt me,”

Steven nodded, the confirmation exactly what he needed to push his fingers into her further, eyes wild with lust as he watched her face contort in pleasure, her cushion walls squeezing his fingers tightly as he went deeper.

“Like that?” He said, the bite of her lip taking his attention wholly. He tried to hide the glee, the smugness in his tone as he said it, but when he pulled them out only to enter her again and she gave a mewl under her breath, his face was entirely cheshire cat.

“Yes,” She said, and he could have sworn it was something out of a dirty movie. Her face was something out of this world as he kept up with his movements, his mouth watering as her eyes flicked open to stare up at him, entirely at his mercy.

His breath was swept from him for the fourth time that day.

The thousands of years of faces passing this early, the sculptures and paintings even the greatest of hands had crafted, and yet it was his rough, tired digits that created the pinnacle of them all.

Feeling sure of himself with how his ministrations so far had been received, he pulled his fingers from her cunt, trailing back up gently to where he knew her clit would be. He fumbled for a moment, the spur of the moment confidence he’d found dwindling as he realised he was still as inexperienced as he had been the day before, that although he knew women’s anatomy, he had never actually touched a woman like he was now.

Again feeling him waver beneath her, his chocolate eyes dopey and pleading for help from anyone listening, she grabbed hold of his wrist and moved him to where she needed.

“Here, Steven,” She whispered, jolting into his chest when his warm digits met her sensitive nerves. She gave him a soft, loving smile and kissed his lips gently, not pitying but simply adoring his Steven-ness that she felt herself bathing in, felt his entire being shooing away every dark speck of dust that crowded her head too often these days.

“Here?” He asked, circling the small bundle gently, her head dropping to his shoulder with a knee weakened neediness. She drew a sharp breath, the bliss wiped from her face and met with a hot ecstasy, raw and soul sucking as he continued to kiss her cheek where her face buried into his neck more.

“There,” She moaned again, her fingers pulling harder at his hair, clawing at his back like an animal begging for mercy, “Fuck, Steven,”

It was muffled into his jacket, and yet the sound of his name said like that only had him pulling her closer, practically keeping her standing as her legs went to jelly, and he rubbed over her nerves faster, her arms shaking as she yanked at his clothes, his hair, anything she could hold onto.

“I love you so much,” He confessed into her hair; he just needed to say it again. If this, all of this, even without what they were doing, even if it meant he could hold her in his arms tight enough to hear her hummingbird heart against his for the rest of existence, he would die happy.

“I love you-I love you so much,” She returned in a needy whine that made him growl and move his fingers all the more faster. He pressed into her more, his cock raging against his seams to be inside her, to have her as much as she’d asked for, her body pressing harshly against the wooden post behind her as his legs straddled her thigh that shook weakly.

He was everywhere. His voice was in her ear, his chest was in her face, his scent was in her nose, his fingers were inside her, his hand tugged her even closer where it spread widely across her spine.

She felt it pooling in her stomach before she could put a name to it, her squeals and pants getting lost in his neck as he moaned with her, and she realised his own sex was pressing angrily against her, a problem that only made her cry out more, grab at him harder.

“Steven-I’m gonna-” She gasped, pressing her forehead to his jaw, “I’m gonna-”

If Steven wanted to say something, it seemed lost to his glazed eyes that watched her like a man on death row, took note of every facial feature as if he’d ever be able to forget how she looked when she came.

She felt the heat in her stomach fizzing up, felt the whole of her pelvis knotting together, her legs jittering as they fought to hold her up, Steven’s body taking the brunt of it as she all but fell into him, dragging his lips onto hers in a harsh, toothy kiss, her moans spilling onto his tongue, his fingers never halting or slowing in their circles.

“Fuck-” She cursed, the last of her pleasure seizing her body, ebbing and flowing away from her until the touch on her clit became too much and she grabbed his wrist desperately and pulled him away, “Steven,”

Fearing he had done it incorrectly, he pulled away as if burned, his free hand immediately freeing her waist to cup her cheek, eyes searching her face for signs of disappointment.

“Was that not it? Was that not right?” He whispered, face heating in regret, only to be met with a breathless smirk before she pulled him back towards her with a quick yank of his sweater.

She kissed him much sweeter this time, a worn out giggle weaving in between their lips, pulling away with dazed eyes that stared at him as if he’d handed her the entire universe in one go.

“That was perfect, Steven,” She said, pecking him again when he seemed unconvinced, “I’ve never been so happy as I am right now, here with you,”

“Neither have I,” He said, his gaze entirely dopey with love as he watched her breaths even out, lips twitching into a sweet smile as she stared back at him.

He wasn’t lying. He’d give her anything if she asked for it.

She seemed to snap out of their honey glazed daze, fingers fiddling with the somewhat softening pull at his trousers, her nail that had surprisingly not been mauled by her stress for a week or so, trailing over where his sensitive tip pressed at his leg, the sensation drawing in a breath from his chest once more.

“Wait,” He started, holding her wrist gently, pulling her hand up to his mouth where he gave her palm a gently kiss, “I want to just be here with you, we don’t have to do that,”

She smiled, though her eyes seemed incredulous that he would deny such an offer. She couldn’t say she was entirely surprised however, Steven had this way of proving her wrong about everything she worried he would be, had this way of making her feel ridiculous for ever expecting anything but softness from him.

“Don’t you want a turn?” She asked quietly, his nose brushing against hers gently as he shook his head, “I just want to make you happy,”

He pulled away then at those words, smiling at her disbelievingly, “If you think that didn’t make me happy, then you’re a very, very silly girl who needs convincing, I guess,”

Without giving her much room to reply, he grabbed her in for another searing kiss, before pressing small pecks all over her mouth sweetly.

“Don’t worry,” He said with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in his otherwise soft brown eyes, “I’m more than happy to convince you over and over and over again once we get home,”

Her cheeks ached from the smile that grew at the thought of home, home for the two of them.

There was no place like home.

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KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

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Clan of Three - Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Redemption

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 6.3K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, angst, Moff Gideon (he deserves his own warning), sadness like so much

------

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not.” He speaks up again and Mando yells back into the comm.

“Kuiil, are you back on the ship yet? They're onto us! Kuiil, come in!” Mando yells as nothing comes through on your end.

“In a few moments, they will be mine.” The man calls out.

“Kuiil! Do you copy? Kuiil!” Mando can’t ignore the fear in his chest, if they get the child and with how many enemies were out there they would get you as well.

“They mean more to me than you will ever know.”

You feel a tightness in your chest feeling the loss and feeling of failure…Kuiil.

“Kuiil! Are you there? Come in, Kuiil….Kuiil, come in. Do you copy? Kuiil? Kuiil!”

The cantina is littered with imperial bodies as a former magistrate, a shock trooper, and a Mandalorian all together to protect a child and a girl who have extraordinary powers.

“Is there another way out?” Cara asks peeking out the window at the large platoon of troopers and this imperial warlord.

“No, that's it,” Greef says looking around the whole cantina their only way out is the two doors leading outside.

“What about the sewers?” Mando says and you look over at him,

“Sewers?” You ask and he nods beginning to look around.

“The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers. If we can get down there, they can help us escape.” He explains searching for an access point to the sewers.

“Yeah, sewers are good,” Greef says happy for this new piece of news before looking out the window with Cara on the other side. “What the hell are they waiting for?” He asks and you peek over seeing them bring out a giant weapon in large cases.

“Hold up. They're setting up an E-Web.” Cara says fear clear in her voice, “It's over.”

“I found the sewer vent,” Mando calls out and you and Cara come over moving the seat that is blocking the gated vent.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Cara says trying to pull the grate off the vent but with no luck.

“It's assembled! How long until that thing's cleared?” Greef yells back, “Blow it.”

Mando’s hands move to his belt finding no charges, “I'm out of charges.”

“Get out of the way!” Cara pushes him aside using the large weapon she brought to shoot down the vent, you cover your face from the bright light and the sounds could be heard from outside.

“Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation. I would prefer to avoid any further violence, and encourage a moment of consideration,” The imperial warlord shouts out as you all pause, “Members of my escort have completed the assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model.”

Your head snaps over looking at Cara as she hears personal details of her life called out, as the man continues to speak, “Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore when gun outfitted with similar ordnance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears.” You look over at Mando who is frozen staring out and you felt an entire door of information open up…you knew his name. After weeks of being with him, something as simple as a name you never learned. He was the Mandalorian, the bounty hunter, or Mando…but you heard his name. Din Djarin.

“Y/n L/n I know you’re in there as well. A thief on Tatooine but you are far more important to me than anything in the galaxy. I know more about you than you know about yourself…you have a much more important role in this than you think you do. Information I know about you…your family…your bloodline can shift the roles. That can alter your dear Mandalorian’s Creed.” The man says and you can feel the stares from the three adults especially the burning one from Mando’s. You couldn’t be more confused with his words…you had no importance in the galaxy than the simple power you had. Your family was nothing..you were nothing.

“I advise disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end.” He says and you see Greef look away from you before shouting out.

“What do you propose?”

“Reasonable negotiation.” The warlord calls out and Greef scoffs,

“What assurance do you offer?”

The man's voice echoes into the cantina, “If you're asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand. I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.” You all look at each other taking in his words before Greef speaks up.

“I say we hear him out.”

“The minute we open that door, we're dead,” Cara says and Greef snaps back,

“We're dead if we don't. At least out there, we've got a shot.” Greef says and Cara is fearful but also filled with anger.

“That's easy for you to say. I'm a Rebel Shock Trooper. They'll upload me to a Mind Flayer.” She says and Greef gives her a look.

“Those aren't real. That was just wartime propaganda.”

“I don't care to find out. I'm shooting my way out of here.” Cara says cocking back her gun before turning to Mando, “What about you, Mando?”

“I know who he is. It's Moff Gideon.” He says and the two adults look almost shocked while you were confused.

“Who?” You ask and Cara is almost in disbelief, “No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes.” 

“It's him. He knew my name.” Mando says and Greef looks over at him trying to understand what that proves, “So? What does that prove?”

“I haven't heard that name spoken since I was a child,” Mando says

“On Mandalore?” Greef says and Mando shakes his head,

“I was not born on Mandalore.” “But you're a Mandalorian,” Greef asks and Cara explains,

“Mandalorian isn't a race.”

“It's a Creed.” Mando says, “I was a foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps. I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age, I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB Officer during the purge. That's how I know it's him. That's how he knows who we all are.”

“He says he needs us, which means the child got away safely.” Greef says trying to shed some good fortune, “I was worried when the Ugnaught didn't respond, but if they'd captured the kid, we'd already be dead.”

“Mando..” You whisper looking at him and he recognizes the look on your face, the self-sacrifice is written all over your face.

“No. no, you’re not doing that kid.” He says shaking your head and you step towards him making him look at you.

“You guys are going to get yourselves killed protecting me. I won’t let your deaths rest on my conscience.” You start and Mando grabs your arms making you look at him.

“My job was to protect you, not let you do this self-sacrificing bullshit!” Mando shouts at you and you can feel the fear in both of you.

“He’s not going to stop coming after us! He knows too much about me…about all of us. I’m not going to let my life ruin yours and the rest of the Mandalorians.” You say looking straight at him and he wasn’t sure if he even had his helmet as you looked right into his eyes. “You have to let me go…” You say softly and he shakes his head the grip on your arms tightens.

“I won’t let you.” He says before grabbing his comm, “Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil?” Silence fills the air and the idea of your sacrifice grows more real to Din and he can feel the fear growing stronger. “Nothing. They might have jammed the link.”

“Kuiil has been terminated.” IG-11’s voice comes through the comm surprising you all,

“What did you do?” Mando says quickly and it almost sounds like the wind is coming from the other side of the comm. Were they on the ship heading far away from Nevarro?

“I am fulfilling my base function.” The droid responds.

“Which is?”

“To nurse and protect.” A low rumble fills the air before the sound of blaster fire enters the air.

“What was that?” Greef asks and you all peer out the window seeing the troopers turn from facing you to one of the pathways as the fighting grows closer. Appearing on a speeder bike two guns in his hands as he shoots down troopers and you see the child strapped to his chest.

“Cover me,” Cara says shooting her gun through the window and hitting some of the troopers down.

Greef rushes outside quickly firing at troopers and you move to go out when a hand latches on to your arm.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Mando says holding onto your arm like it was a lifeline and you nod, pulling out your blaster.

“You don’t either.”

The two of you exit the cantina and are hurled into the fight. Dodging blaster fire overhead, shooting out troopers. Din stayed practically beside you as he fired out against some troopers quickly eliminating any that got near you. You provide cover fire to any coming at Mando’s blindspots. Arms wrap around your waist lifting you into the air and throwing you to the ground you kick your leg out hitting one of the death troopers and seeing two attack Mando. Rolling out of the way grabbing your blaster shooting them in the head as they collapse going to fire on the two attacking Mando but they are already shot down by Greef. Mando pulls you up to your feet as you shoot out at any troopers seeing IG-11 get hit in the leg still protecting the child but beginning to be overwhelmed. You see Mando go over to the E-web taking it off the stand firing it out at the large number of troopers attacking IG. They drop like flies as you fire at but they seemed to keep swarming you all. A shout comes from Mando and you look seeing him stumble forward and shot in the back of the head. Looking past him seeing Moff Gideon standing with his blaster pointing at Mando with a squad of troopers around him. Mando turns holding the e-web ready to fire and you see Gideon’s gaze move from the gun to the ammunition box before his blaster aims there.

“Mando!” You yell right as an explosion sends you flying back hitting the ground blacking out for a second and Mando is sent crashing into the ground with heavy force. A ringing fills your ears as your vision returns trying to push yourself up everything was bright and muted as the gunfire continues, looking forward to seeing Mando on the ground, you yell out though your voice doesn’t reach your ears. Scrambling towards him grabbing his shoulder trying to drag the armored man away from the gunfire. Everything was so quiet but loud at the same time as the blaster fire grows closer to you as Gideon’s troopers draw closer to you. With a yell, you throw your hand out and with a shockwave, the troopers are all sent flying back even Gideon is moved back. Hands grab you pulling you up and away from Mando and you see Cara run in grabbing him slinging him over her back bringing him inside, as Greef gives cover fire throwing you inside as well.

One door closes the other blown down as Gideon steps forward seeing the mass casualties on his end with only five people causing it, “Burn them out.” He growls.

“Stay with me, buddy. We're gonna get you out of here.” Cara's voice sounds muffled as you all barricade yourself by the sewer vent.

“This is our only path out. Can you clear it?” Greef says to IG-11 stepping forward to take the child when it points a blaster,

“If you go near this child, I will no choice but to kill you.” It says and Greef nods holding his hands up and stepping back.

“I understand. Can you do anything to move the grate?” He asks and IG nods its hand producing a small flame torch to carve its way through the metal.

You see Greef in front of you speaking to you but you shake your head not able to understand him, “Kid can you hear me?!” He says and you see him curse seeing the sight of blood coming from your ears. He holds your arms trying to speak slow enough for you to understand, “You are alright…kid just breathe.” You slightly read his lips seeing ‘breathe’ and you take in a gasp of air not realizing you were holding your breath. You look away from Greef seeing Cara trying to tend to Mando who is leaning against the chair on the floor, his shiny beskar armor was blacked with ash. While you weren’t caught in the explosion the shockwave had sent you flying back.

“Stay with me,” Cara says and Din slowly shakes his head his entire body screaming in pain but mainly his head.

“I'm not gonna make it. Go.” He says and Cara shakes her head reaching behind his head,

“Shut up. You just got your bell rung. You'll be fine.” Her blood runs cold seeing her hand come back red feeling the dampness of the cloth around his neck drenched with his blood.

“Leave me,” Din says and Cara is moving to his helmet trying to fix the injury on the back of his head,

“I'm gonna need to take this thing off.” He grabs her hands pulling them down,

“No. You leave me. You make sure the children are safe.” He says grabbing a necklace from under his clothes ripping it off his neck pressing it into her hands, “Here. When you get to the Mandalorian covert, you show them that. You tell them it's from Din Djarin. You tell them the foundlings were in my protection, and they'll help you.” She couldn’t hide the anger from her sadness come through,

“We can make it.” She says but Din had already given up. You look over as a red-striped trooper enters with a large flamethrower in their hand as the furniture towards the entrance is set ablaze. The ringing in your ears doesn’t cease as IG continues to burn a hole through the sewer vent Greef is standing up yelling at you all but everything was still muffled.

“Come on! Let's go!” You look over at Mando who wasn’t moving.

“Mando…we have to go,” You say unaware of your volume as you come to his side trying to pull him up but he isn’t budging. “Come on Mando, get up.” You pull him turning to Cara who is looking down at the gut-wrenching display. “Cara help me.” You say and you see her turn to Mando speaking to him but you still couldn’t hear them.

“I'm not gonna make it and you know it.” Din says looking at Cara who wanted to refuse this outcome, “You protect the children. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior's death.”

“I won't leave you.” Cara grits out and they can feel the flames growing closer to them.

“This is the Way.”

You all look over when you feel the heat as the incinerator troop stands within the flames pointing the weapon at you sending a mass of flames. You hadn’t expected a wall to form in front of you all and you look down seeing the child holding his hand out. Pushing his hand out the flames shoot back at the trooper making the flamethrower explode killing him. You see the child slump from the exertion as IG-11 kicks the grate open.

“We have to move! Now!” Greef says trying to get you all to leave but you still are looking at Mando.

“Mando, get up we have to go.” You try pulling his arm before you move around to his shoulders to pull him up when your hands slip against something. Pulling back your heart grows cold seeing the red stain on your hands. You look at him and he sees the tears welling in your eyes. His head moves slightly while speaking but you shake your head.

“I...I can’t hear you.” You say your voice cracking looking at the defeated warrior, “Let me heal you..I-I can heal you.” Your voice shakes as you try reaching over to heal him the same way the child had but he pushes you back. He continues to speak to you as the flames roar behind you but your head shakes back and forth.

“I can’t hear you! Please just get up…get up Mando. We have to go.” Tears clean the dirt off your face and he softly reaches up wiping them off your face. “Get up Mando! You can’t leave me like this..you can’t.” Your head whips over to Cara who is looking down her heart breaking with each moment.

“Cara help me dammit!” You shout out seeing Cara look away and you look over at Greef who looks crushed but is still yelling at you guys. A hand grabs your face making you look back and you see Mando looking back at you and you can feel his emotions dripping through the beskar and leather covering his skin.

“Go.” He whispers knowing you weren’t going to hear him, “Leave Y/n you have to go.” You shake your head refusing whatever he had to say before he looks at Cara. She curses passing the child off to Greef and he quickly enters the tunnel.

“Escape and protect the children,” Din says to Cara as you continue begging him to get up. She steps forward looking at IG,

“I will stay with the Mandalorian.” The droid says and Cara glares at him,

“Promise me you'll bring him.” “You have my word.”

Cara looks away before grabbing your arm and pulling you up. “No what are you doing?! Cara let go of me. Mando get up! We have to go!” She begins pulling you towards the sewer vent, struggling slightly pulling you with one hand and the other holding her blaster. “Mando stop her! Please don’t leave me! Din! Get up, please! I don’t wanna go! Cara let go of me! Din! Din Please!” Your voice screams out your hand trying to reach out to him as his hand drifts off you falling to his side his heart crumbles watching you fight to stay with him as you’re pulled into the tunnels, him hearing your cries and shouts for him fade.

Tears blur your vision as you let Cara drag you through the tunnels reaching Greef and the child. She pulls out a bacta spray IG had given her, grabbing your face though not as tender as Mando was. She sprays the liquid into both of your ears wiping the blood off your ears your hands still stained with his blood as they shake. You had scuffs and slight cuts from the explosion but losing your hearing had been the main issue. You shove her away wanting to turn back and go back for him but this entire place was a maze and you hadn’t paid attention to where you went.

“You left him to die.” You hiss glaring at the two adults. Your eyes are bloodshot, your voice hoarse from your screams and cries but your hearing had returned slightly the bacta spray already working.

“We had no choice, we have to keep moving,” Cara says giving you a pitying look before looking forward, “Do you know which way to go?” Your heart broke with each step leading you deeper into the tunnels everything looking the same.

“No. I don't know these tunnels. I've only entered from the bazaar. Well, if we get the smell of sulfur and we follow it, it'll lead us up to the plains where the river flows.” Greefs explains holding the child in the pack,

“And the Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship.” Cara says as you turn down another hall the tunnels never-ending, “We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.” The sound of footsteps makes you all freeze each of your holding your blasters out ready to attack any troopers that followed after you. The sound of multiple footsteps grows closer and the three of you prepare to fight when the people that arrive make you drop your blaster rushing forward. Your body collides into Mando’s your arms wrapping around his waist tightly and his free hand rest on the back of your head keeping you close to him as he whispers words that you can’t understand. The beskar cold on your skin as tears falls down your face. You pull back looking up at him grateful to see his metal helmet, his rough gloves wipe away the tears on your face.

“I thought you were gone.” You cry and he shakes his head most of his weight on the droid and Cara comes over taking his other side.

“We have to keep moving.” Greef says having returned the child to IG-11.” You’re glued to Mando’s side Cara holding up most of his weight while you have a tight grip on his hand as you turn down another hall seeing more ways to go.

“Ugh, this place is a maze,” Greef says and Mando groans shrugging Cara off him, his footing is slightly stable but he stands tall pushing forward.

“Stop. I can stand.” “The bacta infusion is working,” IG-11 says and Mando steps forward you expect him to pull away from you but he squeezes your hand in reassurance as you continue walking you and Mando leading the way.

“I'll try to find tracks. We're close. Turn here.” You turn down a tunnel you all freeze seeing a pile resting in the middle of the hall. The two of you step forward and you could feel his grip on your hand tightens seeing what the pile was. Mandalorian helmets and armor were discarded and left behind. Had there been an attack? He kneels grabs a helmet looking at the dented protection. The symbol of his people…of his Creed.

“We should go..” Cara says seeing the tension coming off the Mandalorian witnessing this.

“You go. Take the ship. I can't leave it this way.” Mando shakes his head dropping the helmet to the pile before he whips around to Greef stalking towards him, “Did you know about this? Is this the work of your bounty hunters?” 

“No. When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They're mercenaries. They're not zealots.” Greef defends him with a shake of his head but Mando was fueled with rage for this massacre of his creed.

“Did you do this? Did you?” He grabs Greef by his shirt, “No!”

“It was not his fault,” A female’s voice calls out, and coming from a room another Mandalorian is standing there with a large cart beside her. “We revealed ourselves. We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter.” She points at the large pile of armor moving to put more in the cart, “This is what resulted.”

“Did any survive?” Mando asks and the woman shrugs walking into a room which you all follow, the heat from the large forge as she lifts the cart pouring them in as they quickly melt down,

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world.” She explains.

“Come with us.” Mando asks and she refused, “I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.” She continues to put more armor into the smelter as the beskar becomes liquid.

“Show me the ones whose safety deemed such destruction.” She says and you see Mando look at you as he grabs the child both of you stepping forward. You can feel her gaze piercing as she looks over the child, “These are the ones that you hunted, then saved?”

“Yes. The one that saved me.” Mando nods and the memory of first witnessing the child and its gift similar to yours with the mudhorn

“From the mudhorn?” The armorer says and Mando nods, “It looks helpless.”

“It's injured, but it is not helpless. Its species can move objects with its mind.” He explains. Was this the same with you, he never knew of humans on Tatooine that could do the same things you could do?

“I know of such things,” The armorer says looking over the child who looks up at her with wide eyes, “The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore The Great, and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers.”

The Jedi…that was something you were familiar with, stories of them told to you through passing. Is that what you were meant to label yourself as?

“It is an enemy?” Mando asks looking at both you and the child.

“No. Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.” She says before examining you and you could feel her gaze through the helmet covering her face, “And this one?”

“The same as the child...I’ve seen things the both of them can do.” Mando says and she steps forward leaning closer and you try not to lean away from her. Her presence felt heavy and could send fear into any person.

“Where are you from?” She asks looking closely at you.

“Tatooine.” “No.” You frown at her comment, but you were from Tatooine born and raised it was the only thing you knew. Her hand grabs your face tilting it around as you glance at Mando in confusion.

“Tatooine may be where you were born but your blood, that is not. Features old but familiar…qualities of those from Mandalore.” She says and the room grows deadly silent with her observation. You pull away giving her a look.

“I’m…I’m not. I’m not from Mandalore I’m from Tatooine.” You say trying to prove to them but also yourself. “My parents are from Tatooine…we all were from Tatooine.” You say but thinking deeply did you ever know your family? You had no grandparents and you never reached that age to ask deeply where your family was from. It was only the three of you on that desert planet. You were…you couldn’t be.

Information I know about you…your family…your bloodline can shift the roles. That can alter your dear Mandalorian’s Creed.

Gideon’s words ring in your head…was this what he meant. “What do I do with them,” Mando asks and the armorer moves to the forge,

“They are foundlings. By Creed, they are in your care.” She says moving around the forge and you watch the liquid beskar move through.

“You wish me to train them?”

“They are too weak. They would die. You have no choice. You must reunite them with their own kind.” The armorer says all this information is too much for both you and Mando,

“Where?”

“This, you must determine.” The armorer responds,

“You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to a race of enemy sorcerers?” He incredulously asks and the Armorer repeats words you’ve heard many times.

“This is the Way.”

“Hey. These tunnels will be lousy with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan.” Cara says looking out into the hall.

“If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream toward the lava flats.” She points out the door with a large hammer of hers.

“I think we should go,” Greef says and you all prepare to leave but you see Mando not moving,

“I'm staying. I need to help her and I need to heal.” “Mando…”

“You must go,” The Armorer says pointing to the two of you, “Foundlings are in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father. This is the Way.” She says and she moves around her forge as you look at Mando…he was meant to be your father. Din was looking at you with the same look, he was a father now, especially a father or two. “You have earned your Signet. You are a clan of three.” She says holding a signet and fusing it to his right pauldron.

“Thank you.” Mando nods looking at the visible achievement, “I will wear this with honor.”

“We should go.” You say grabbing Mando’s hand and making him look at you and the child in IG’s arms.

“IG, please guard the outer hallway. A scouting party draws near.” The armorer says and IG nods removing the child from its arms and passing it off to Cara who fumbles to hold the child correctly. “Hang on. I don't do the baby thing.”

“I have one more gift for your journey. Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?” She says moving behind the forge grabbing something and Mando nods,

“When I was a boy. Yes.”

“Then this will make you complete.” She says holding a completely beskar jetpack you look at it in awe and Mando thanks her, “When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.” She finishes

“I understand.” The sound of gunfire fills the hall and you all turn weapons ready but when one set of footsteps appears turns out to be IG-11.

“You are protected.”

“More will come. You must go.” She says and Mando looks over at her,

“Come with us.”

His mentor shakes her head, “My place is here. Restock your munitions,” She points over to a table and Mando moves to grab more charges and anything else he might need as she passes the jetpack to IG, “IG, carry this 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.” Your hand grabs Mando’s leading him out the door as he looks back one last time. A place he had called home, every memory of it.

“Thank you.”

Following her directions you find yourself in front of a stream of lava, it slowly flows down a river. “This is the lava river,” Greef says with a boat in front of you.

“The ferry droid is fried.” You say pointing at the droid covered in hardened magma.

“Yeah, but if we push the boat out, we can get it to float downstream,” Greef says and he and Mando push against it trying to get it to budge. This must have not been used in years, the stone hardened together. “Push!”

“Come on! What're you doing?” Mando gives Greef a look as they fail at moving it.

“Let's try this. Push!” Greef says the two push again and Cara steps forward.

“Hold him,” She passes the child off to IG grabbing her blaster, “You guys mind getting out of the way?” After a lot of blaster fire the rock crumbles and with a kick the boat is pushed into the river.

“Oh! Good job.” Greef says as you all begin to climb on.

“Watch your feet. It's molten lava.” IG says the joke not landing well. “No kidding.”

Suddenly behind you what was supposed to be a fried droid rises the hardened rock falling off it as it speaks to you all “I don't suppose anybody here speaks droid?” You say looking at them,

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go,” IG says translating for you all.

“Downriver. To the lava flat.” Greef says and the droid brings up a large staff beginning to steer you down the molten river. Looking over at the bay noticing small creatures run along the rock formations as you continue moving downstream. Further, ahead you see what looks like the exit daylight shining through.

“That's it. We're free!” Greef says and you feel relief fill your body. You see Mando staring further out before shaking his head, “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.” Mando explains having used his helmet scanner.

“Stop the boat.” Cara turns to the droid but it ignores her, “Hey, Droid, I said stop the boat. Hey! I'm talking to you. I said stop!” She whips out her blaster shooting it in the head it collapses but the boat continues to move.

“We're still moving,” Greef says and you all look forward to the slowly approaching entrance.

“Looks like we fight.” You say pulling out your blaster

“There are too many.” Mando shakes his head and you give him a look,

“Then what do you suggest? 'Cause I can't surrender.” Cara says

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the children.” IG says looking at you and the child resting in its arms, “This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy and you will escape.”

“You don't have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn't even get to daylight.” Mando says and IG just looks at him.

“That is not my objective.”

“We're getting close. Saddle up.” Greef yells out as you draw closer.

“I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.” IG explains and Mando is confused.

“What're you talking about?”

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.” IG says as the mouth is only getting closer.

“Mando…” You yell out to him as he keeps arguing with IG.

“I can no longer carry this for you. Nor can I watch over the children.” IG places the child down as well as puts down the jetpack that was gifted to Mando.

“Wait. You can't self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the kids. That supersedes your manufacturer's protocol, right?” Mando says thinking of the change in protocol.

IG nods knowing its programming explicitly, “Right? This is correct.”

“Good. Now, grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.” Mando says but IG continues to disagree.

“Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The children will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where the children are saved, in which I survive.” IG says and Mando shakes his head trying to come up with a new idea.

“Listen, you're not going anywhere. We need you. Let's just come up with a…”

“Please tell me the children will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.” IG cuts him off and you can hear the lingering sadness in his voice.

“But you'll be destroyed.” “And you will live, and I will have served my purpose.”

“No. We need you.” Mando says and IG looks over him almost examining,

“There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

Mando looks away rejecting the claim. “I'm not sad.

“Yes, you are. I'm a nurse droid. I've analyzed your voice.” IG says before stepping towards the edge and climbing over its legs sink into the lava as it begins to move forward ahead of you.

“IG? What're you doing?”

You see the droid reach the mouth of the river seeing troopers surrounding it as it begins to beep, “Manufacturer's protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must be destroyed.” A bright explosion fills the mouth of the river and you shield your eyes as IG destroys himself to neutralize the platoon. The boat slowly exits the river your weapons ready for any leftover Imps but everyone was dead taken down by IG. The loud screech of a TIE fighter appears over the ridge.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara yells out as it draws closer to you all of you shooting out at it your blasters missing their speed. It fires hitting part of the ground one round of bolts heads straight for the boat when they freeze in mid-air the energy pulsing in the air. The three adults look over at the child expecting it to be using his powers when Din sees you holding your hand out it shakes slightly holding back the full energy.

“Kid!” He goes to move to you.

“Don’t!” You yell making him stop in place, you grit your teeth as the bolt moves slightly closer and you focus harder on keeping it back, “Don’t touch me. You gotta get out of here…I don’t know how long I can hold this back.”

“I’m not leaving you, kid,” Mando says and your gaze is hardened on the bolt.

“Our blasters are useless against him. He’s going to come back,” Cara says and if you were struggling on holding this one back how would you for another attack?

“Let's make the baby do the magic hand thing. Come on, baby! Do the magic hand thing.” Greef says and the child does nothing but coos looking back. “I'm out of ideas.” Din looks at you struggling to keep this attack from hitting them and the sound of the Tie fighter returning.

“I'm not,” Din says stepping forward and grabbing the jetpack slinging it onto his back pressing a button on his wrist the jetpack igniting.

“Here he comes!” Cara yells out firing her gun at Gideon. You glance over seeing him heading straight at you putting two hands out holding back this energy. You weren’t going to be able to stop this attack.

“Just get out of here!” You yell sweat beading on your forehead from the energy running through your body the adrenaline making your blood pump faster.

“Stay focus kid!” Din yells out shooting straight into the air before the TIE fighter flies past him, latching his grappling cable to it he’s pulled further into the air. Using a boost of the jetpack he lands on the roof of the cockpit looking down and seeing Moff Gideon looking up at him. Firing trying to break through the glass he jerks the ship sending Din rolling off and he grabs one of the wings. The wind and speed almost throw him off as he grabs a detonator activating it but it flies out of his hand as Gideon spins around to shake him off. Clutching onto the ship he grabs at his belt grabs two detonators and slaps to the left joint the rapid beeping going off as he lets go.

“You guys get out of here!” You yell at Cara and Greef as they grab the child getting away from the boat and you feel your focus slipping as the bolt grows closer.

“Kid I need you to trust me and let go.” You hear Mando’s voice comes through your comm and you look down for a second shrieking slightly as the bolt grows closer to you, feeling its heat and energy just feet away. You don’t get to think as you feel hands wrap around your back and legs as you’re scooped into the air your concentration breaking as the bolt slams into the boat exploding it. Looking up seeing Mando hold you as both of you land on the ground in front of Greef and Cara. He puts you down your arms shaking slightly your heart racing. You felt such a large rush of that feeling that you felt like you were on something.

“That was impressive, Mando. Very impressive. It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up. Same with you Y/n.” Greef says.

“Any more stormtroopers?” Mando asks and Greef shakes his head,

“I think we cleaned up the town. I'm thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“You're staying here?” You ask the feeling waning off the tingling sensation in your body fading.

“Well, why not? Nevarro is a very fine planet. And now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it's very respectable again.” Greef explains, while you had only known it for the empire’s control you could only hope he did well with it.

“As a bounty hunter hive?” Mando gives him and look and Greef grins,

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters. And perhaps, this specimen of a soldier might consider joining our ranks.” He looks over at Cara who doesn’t seem that opposed.

“Yeah. I've got some clerical concerns regarding my chain code.”

“And if you would agree to become my enforcer, clerical concerns would be the least of your worries. But you, my friend, will be welcome back into the Guild with open arms. So, go off, enjoy yourself. And when you're ready to return, you will have the pick of all quarries.” Greef suggests and Cara nods accepting his proposal and Greef turns to Mando.

“I'm afraid I have more pressing matters at hand.” He declines his offer referencing the two of you as Cara hands you the child.

“Take care of this little one.” Cara says stroking the child’s ear as it lets out a giggle, she looks over at you clapping your shoulder, “Stay safe kid.” You nod adjusting your hold on the child.

“Or maybe, they'll take care of you.” Greef teases as Mando shakes hands with Cara and Greef. He comes over to you and you nod ready to go, he scoops you and the child into his arms activating his jetpack and heading off leaving the two behind.

Mando kneels resting the goggles that belong to Kuiil on the small grave made as the three of you look on before you head to the Crest getting ready to leave Nevarro. Mando situates the child in its pram as you strap yourself into your seat. Fixing his small cloak he feels something with the child pulling out the small mythosaur necklace. ”What do you got there? I didn't think I'd see this again. Why don't you hang onto that?” He tucks the necklace back with the child while starting up the ship.

“Din..” You call out to him and he turns surprised hidden under his mask. It felt unusual hearing his actual name coming from some. That name hadn’t been spoken in years but coming from you he only felt comfort and warmth. He was a clan leader now, these two his children, and he as their father.

“Yeah, kid..” He asks and you look at him the stress and relief clean from your face you looked truly calm.

“Thank you…for everything.” You say looking at him and Mando…Din looks back at you before nodding.

“Thank you too.” He says before facing forward as you leave Nevarro’s atmosphere beginning your new adventure. A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the Jedi, and another teenager with similar powers but an undiscovered lineage. To find the Jedi and find the truth of her bloodline. It was just the first step of everything the Mandalorian, Din Djarin was to learn.

Jawas with their sandcrawler salvage parts to trade from a wrecked TIE fighter, the parts going to be valuable and expensive. A laser pierces through the metal frightening the creatures as they scramble away a hole is cut through appearing a man, with dark imperial clothes flows in the wind. In his hands a blade that glows a deep black almost sucking any light near it to darkness, power, and authority exuding off the weapon. He looks out into the plains his victory in the battle lost but this was only the beginning of a war.

A/N: That's the end of the first season of Clan of Three. It's been so much fun writing this story and with season three out it makes it even more exciting. Only one more episode left in season three ahhh! Can't wait to release season two of this story!

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 28

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

(I’ve been gone, I’m back, have an extra long chapter) (missed me?)

It’s huge, the dog is, fur the colour of Sirius’ hair and fluffy and everywhere. Clever eyes. Pads the size of dinner plates. It’s adorable, the kind of a dog Remus wants to cuddle up to on a cold evening.

If it growled at him in a dark alleyway? He’d probably cry and run.

The dog goes up to the security guard like it’s his mission, struts down the tiled museum floor. Remus, frozen, watches.

When the guard notices, he doesn’t try to grab it as Remus feared but calls on his headset. Remus makes out dog and help and very very large. Wastes precious time given to him by Sirius, because the dog sits in front of the guard and thumps its heavy tail on the floor. The sound ricochets against the glass encasings. It moves so much how Sirius moves it creates the most disconcerting split in Remus’ thoughts.

The dog barks, the guard takes a shuddering step back, and Remus wrenches away from his thoughts. Has to be quick about it because if he’s caught they’ll have the both of them for doing magic in front of Muggles. It’s more than just his research on the line.

(He can’t decide if Sirius is to be admired in this moment or condemned for his brashness, because terrorising a Muggle while in his animagus form is bad enough, even if it weren’t coming from a convict on probation).

Remus crouches behind the encasing holding the scroll. There is a napkin in his pocket which he transfigures into a replica. His concentration wavers, wanes, each time he hears the dog bark or whine. It can’t be long until the backup comes for the guard and Remus is in direct line of vision of the door.

Hieroglyphics appear on his remade parchment, line by line. He’s not going to have the time to double check they are correct. Wishes he could just take a photo, but there are “no photography” signs everywhere and anyway he left his camera at the hotel.

There is a harsh, sudden sound of a crack. The dog whines. It sounds like pain. Remus feels the anger at it in his teeth and rushes through the last line of the symbols. He’s already walking towards the guard as he takes off his belt and transfigures it into a collar and leash.

The guard raises a heavy black baton above his head and the dog just sits there, not doing anything to retaliate, belly to the ground.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The guard halts, but sneers at Remus like he’s vermin. (It’s a look he’s accustomed to – the Registry office, the full moon facilities, some of his colleagues who don’t fancy him much.)

“Stray dog. They’re a problem. Wondering in like this. They piss on the displays.”

“Does that look like a stray to you? He’s mine.”

The dogs tail wags faintly against the floor. He’s still lying down.

“Heel,” Remus says, not taking his eyes of the guard.

They could be in big trouble here. He’s got what looks like a stolen exhibit in his pocket, and has apparently let his dog run loose around a public space. The way the guard looks between him and the dog is putting Remus on edge, but he can’t show it – if the guard thinks he’s in the right they might get out of this unscathed.

The dog gets up and, limping ever so slightly, crosses to sit at Remus’ feet. The limp, the glint of the baton – it unlocks something in Remus.

“Have to keep dog leashed,” the guard says, “don’t see you with it.”

Remus puts the collar around the dogs neck. Its fur is the same as Sirius’ hair, coarse where it should be smooth, thick and lovely. “You see me with it now,” he clips on the lead, “there. No more problem.”

The dog nuzzles into Remus’ palm. He runs it over its head, soothing, gentle. Thinks of the limp.

“You really shouldn’t hit dogs, you know,” he says with the approaching full moon pushing the words. “Strays bite. Just a friendly warning.”

There’s nothing friendly, and they both know it. The guard swallows, visibly, sheathes his baton. Looks at the dog like it could pounce but looks at Remus like he is the threat.

The dog is in step with him all the way out of the Museum. He really walks very well on a leash.

***

“Did you get it?” Sirius asks the moment he’s himself again, over Remus’ statement-question “you’re an animagus?”

It’s exhilarating, now they’re out of the Museum and away from the danger of getting caught. Sirius laughs, head thrown back, and its as bark-like as always and Remus thinks I see.

It makes sense really, with Sirius’ puppy dog eyes and his unrelenting love for his family. With the way animals flock to him like they recognise on of their own. With the way he is, playful and rash – and impatient, reactionary, impulsive.

And so achingly lovely in his unguarded happiness.

It’s not apparent that even transformed, he’s still limping, not until they get to their hotel room.

Remus is exhausted – from the moon encroaching onto him, from the stress. The stint in the Museum was the more reckless thing he’s done since he can remember. That’s not what he’s like. Remus has spent his life cultivating who he is, a person fit for society – deserving to be part of society. Obeying the laws an authority figures. Not threatening guards.

There’s a large, comfortable looking bed in the middle of the sunlit room. Remus aches to spread his bones out and let them sink into the mattress.

“I’d say I’ll take the sofa but there doesn’t seem to be one,” Sirius sounds playful about it, and Remus didn’t even notice there was only one bed (of course there is only one bed.)

“It’s big enough. We can share.”

“Don’t want me to check with the reception?”

“He said it was the only room they had left. There’s no point. And to be honest,” Remus sits on the edge of the bed, and it sinks underneath him, moulds into him, and it’s already so comfortable he might cry, “I just want to sleep.”

“As you wish, Professor.”

Their things had been sent up to the room already. They both change. Sirius takes a long, steamy shower. Even through the closed door, Remus can smell the body potions Sirius uses, the hot water as it hits overheated skin.

The images come the way they do to the wolf, in the scant things he remembers. They’re built upon the smell and the sounds, extrapolated from what he knows and what he feels. An instinct to understand.

He hears the water rushing, wild like a waterfall, and it’s simple: it would roll down skin, down the black of tattoos and the unlined paleness. Catch on edges, fill out divots of collarbones and hips. The smell of lavender rises above the heat. Sirius must lather it into himself, hands on calves and thighs. He doesn’t strike Remus as someone who’d be perfunctory with it; Sirius is many things (so many, many things), but not economical. Remus thinks he’d be leisurely, take his time, make it into something that feels good.

He deserves nothing but to feel good.

The way the baton flashed makes it through the images. The way the dog whimpered. The way Sirius limped. Remus has to sit on his hands to stop himself getting into the bathroom to check and to soothe and to help Sirius with the hurt.

Sirius comes out in just a towel, water still dripping off his hair and onto his shoulders. Remus thinks don’t do this to me, not today, not when my control is barely mine anymore.

“Oh, sorry, were you waiting on me?” Sirius asks, completely misinterpreting the way Remus sits on the bed where he left him, staring.

“Sure,” Remus responds because it’s easier than the alternative.

It’s not much later when they get into bed, side-by-side, and there is no awkwardness and no silence. It’s so natural it makes Remus’ anxiety peak because nothing ever comes easily and everything is always a convoluted mess, so why would this be different? Why should this be the first time he feels truly content?

And, if it is, then how is it fair that it’s here, by the side of this man that’s more a hurricane than a human, and not in the spaces where Remus worked and struggled to carve a slice of real life for himself? Instead, he gets this – a one night’s respite, fleeting a temporary and not at all his to have.

Sirius turns to him. They lay face to face. The near-full moon illuminates him. Remus wants to reach out and touch.

“How’s your leg?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe the bastard hit you,” Remus pauses, thinks, “actually, I can’t believe you’re an animagus.”

“Unregistered. Illegal.”

“Why?”

Sirius shrugs like it’s no big deal, “we were fifteen, James and I and Pete, when we learnt. Never gotten around to registering.”

Fifteen. Magic like that, at fifteen. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s pretty cool,” Sirius confidently misunderstands the meaning, “James calls the dog Padfoot. He’s a stag, and Wormy – Wormtail, that’s Peter – is a rat.”

“And James? He doesn’t have a silly nickname?”

“They’re not silly!” Sirius smacks him playfully on a shoulder and keeps his fingers there, tracing patterns into the duvet that’s over the both of them. “James is Prongs. Because of the antlers.”

They talk into the night, Sirius’ voice becoming low and raspy as sleep touches him. His hand, fingers, stay on Remus’ arm. At some point, over hours that feel like minutes, they slide down his bicep, across his elbow, to his wrist and they settle there, fingerprints against a pulse point.

NEXT PART

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