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justauthoring · 4 years ago

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The Long Wait

Prompt: Eventually, the hoping became too much to bare. Requested by: no one.

A/N: This is basically a remake of this fic -- upon re-watching the GMG arc with my mom, I couldn’t help but look back at this fic and realize how much more I could’ve done with it. Thus, this was born. Pairing: Gray Fullbuster x F!Reader

“What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Keeping your gaze trained to the ground, you absolutely refuse to look up -- because you know that if you did, your heart would break all over again.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, words jumbled together, voice quiet that if the guild hall was so completely silent, they definitely wouldn’t have heard you. But they do, and they falter at the way you sound so absolutely broken. And of course, all of them were, but there was something different about the way you sounded -- it was like you were defeated.

Macao steps towards her, you hear it rather then see it, and can imagine his hand stretched out towards you, trying to placate you. “Y/N, we understand--” and he halts, voice catching in the back of his throat. “We understand more then anyone how you feel, but--”

“It’s different.” You find yourself cutting in, voice sharp, and you wince at yourself because you sound so incredibly selfish and rude. Who were you to say that your pain was any different from theirs? Any worse? But, still, you continue, your emotions getting the better of you. “It’s just... different. I... I can’t be here knowing they’re... he’s gone.”

“Y/N-nee, we don’t know that they’re gone!”

Your eyes fall shut at the sound of Romeo’s voice.

“We have to keep searching for them,” he argues, defiant, adamantly shaking his head. “They’re somewhere out there, I know that. And Gray wouldn’t--”

“They’re gone,” you hiss, interrupting him and finally glancing up to regard your friends, your family. They rear back at your harsh words, and that guilt festers even deeper inside of your chest, with the way they’re looking at you. Jet and Droy look near tears, and you know they’re thinking of Levy. And Bisca and Alzack look in shock at your outburst, you’re usually so quiet and calm. Macao looks angry, and the rest just stare at you, varying reactions that all mesh together.

Because really, it’s the way Romeo looks at you, still so young, so full hope as your words basically slap him in the face.

But you’re too far gone now, and there’s no stopping you.

“It’s been two years,” you continue, voice softer but still cutting, still hurtful. “They’re not coming back. They’re never coming back.”

He’s never coming back.

They don’t respond. No one argues, even if some look like they might. Maybe they’re understanding, maybe they’re finally getting it -- it’s been too long now and no one from the island is coming back. You’d been hopeful at first, you’d been like Romeo -- you’d refused to lose hope. But your heart is broken and there’s no mending it and you can’t keep staring at those doors all day expecting, hoping, praying that he’ll walk through them only for him never to.

So, you turn, nothing but a soft, sorrowful, pathetic apology leaving your lips as you turn your backs on your friends and leave them.

And as you turn, you see his familiar face, the dark black of his hair, that drawling smirk on his lips, and his cold, but always soft when directed at you eyes looking at you, but when you blink, he’s gone.

You huff at the weight dropped around your shoulders, inhaling deeply when you see a familiar puff of blonde hair.

“Did you hear?”

You don’t need to ask what he means. It’s pretty obvious.

“Fairy Tail will be competing again this year.”

When you turn to look at Sting, he’s smirking -- all bright eyed and giddy, and you hold back your own snark as you regard him with a small nod. Sting was one of the few to know of the fact that you used to be part of Fairy Tail -- him and Rogue, given that they were the ones who recruited you, and then the master as well.

It wasn’t news you were eager for everyone to know. Fairy Tail was a laughing stock in all respects now, but Sabertooth seemed to have a particular fondness of mocking the way the guild had fallen. And it was easy to hide you’d ever been apart of it given you hadn’t been a particularly well-known mage back when you’d been a member. Your powers were relatively new, and with, regrettably, the help of the Twin Dragon slayers you’d definitely grown in aspects of strength.

Three years since you’d joined Sabertooth -- two years of training on your own, and three of being surrounded by much stronger mages had you adapting and constantly changing. You were practically unrecognizable.

You were known at Y/N of Sabertooth now, and it was like the Y/N of Fairy Tail never even existed at all.

“I’m surprised,” you hum, shifting as Sting moves to take a seat next to you, still whilst having an arm draped over your arm. You blink at the sudden arrival of Rogue, not having heard him, as he takes a seat in front of you, before continuing. “They weren’t in it last year, or the year before if I remember. After finishing last every year before.”

You hadn’t been apart of Sabertooth’s team, but you do remember watching.

It had been... hard, to say the least.

“Ah, well, this year they have a new team.” Rogue explains blandly.

“New members, you should say,” Sting smirks.

Brows furrowed, you shake your head at their words, confusion flooding at you at the particular gleefulness of Sting’s expression. He always got a kick out of embarrassing other teams, not even just Fairy Tail, but there was something different about the way his eyes sparkled.

Sting meets your gaze, and without wavering, adds; “or should I say, old?”

Your breath catches, and even as your mind starts spinning, you’re all too aware of the way both Sting and Rogue are watching you carefully.

You turn from Rogue to Sting, and absolutely hate the gleam in the latter’s eyes as he smirks down at you. Keeping a tight hold on you, he pulls you closer, leaning until he’s a breaths away; “it’s a good thing I managed to convince the Master to let you on the team this year, Y/N,” he grins widely, “you’ll get to reunite with your old pales.”

That... that couldn’t be possible.

They were--They were dead. They are dead.

“I... I need some fresh air.” Shoving Sting’s arm off of you, you ignore his calls and his merciless laughter as you stock out the guild doors, bypassing Minerva which you know will get you in shit later. You don’t really care in that moment, you can’t even think straight, you need air.

You need to breathe.

Sting must be lying. He has to be lying. There’s... they were dead, it’s been seven years.

Seven years.

How... why now? Why after all this time?

And you convince yourself he isn’t lying. You ignore Sting every time he tries to talk to you, and focus on training. It would be no good if you failed since you were on the roster this year -- Master would kill you if you failed to impress him and keep Sabertooth at the very top. And it’s easy enough to do, spend all your time training, pushing yourself to the brink, until it’s a few days before the games and you realize, Sting wasn’t lying.

You’d been trying to ignore it, ignore the urge, but eventually you give in and find yourself in the city of Magnolia. A place you haven’t been in a long time.

Fairy Tail’s location had changed, but you’d made sure to keep tabs on them. You never showed your face, mainly because you knew that in the end, you’d betrayed your friends. In their eyes, you assumed, you were the enemy, a traitor. You’d left them, left your guild in a time they’d needed you most, and almost instantly regretted it.

But every time you tried to go back, every time you made your way towards those doors, you’d remember the words you’d said -- “They’re not coming back. They’re never coming back.” -- and, like a coward, you were never able to face them.

From the moment you’d left, all you’d wanted to do was go back but it was too late for that now. And so you settled for keeping tabs, helping them where you could, always in secret -- you knew how they owed money, and you didn’t have a lot, but you always anonymously send some the guild’s way in hopes of helping. Sabertooth would kill you if they found out, specifically Sting, but it was your way of repaying all the hurt you must’ve caused them.

It’s why you know their new location. And, without even being there for more then five minutes, you see them.

A blue flying cat, followed by a white one, a tuff of pink hair, red hair, blue hair, blonde and most importantly, him. His dark hair, the fact that nothing’s changed and he looks exactly like he had those seven years ago when you’d wished him good luck on the S Class competition, and pressed a shy, chaste kiss to his cheek, the two of you blushing madly as he left, waving you goodbye.

But, they were there. He was there.

“And last but certainly not least, is the team that came first in the preliminaries... that’s right, you know them, you love them! Now, get on your feet and scream for the most powerful guild in all Fiore! The one and only, Sabertooth!”

You wince at the cheering, two steps behind everyone else as Sting makes his grand entrance, looking thoroughly most pleased and proud of himself then anyone else. However, even you can see the smirk on Rufus’ and Orga’s face.

If anything, it’s you and Rogue that don’t look all that excited.

And you, for a specific reason. One that stares you right in the face the second you walk into the arena.

Elfman, Erza, Lucy, Natsu, but more importantly, Gray all look at you the second your team arrives. You can even feel Fairy Tail team B, and the rest of the guild up in the stands watching you and only you. You also notice with disdain that Sting had purposefully made way for you to be seen, even if you hadn’t been that hidden, you would’ve rather remained in the shadows.

That, and you’re not exactly sure what to say as they all stare at you.

“Y/N?!”

It’s Natsu who yells it, but it’s Lucy who steps towards you, baffled and confused; “Y/N, what’re you...”

But you only lower your gaze, eyes falling shut as Sting pulls you into his side, laughing loudly. “What a reunion!” He cheers, pumping his fist in the air, before turning to you. “Isn’t it so great to see all your old guildmates, Y/N?”

You meet their eyes, just as the announcer calls out;

“What’s this? A reunion? Could it be perhaps that Sabertooth’s own Y/N Y/L/N was once a member of Fairy Tail? What a twist on her debut in the Grand Magic Games!”

“This is so not man...”

Turning your head at the sound of Elfman’s voice, your breath catches in the back of your throat.

“Elfman,” Erza says sharply, pulling your eyes back on her and thus the rest of them, noticing with a thick swallow the way her eyes have never left your own. “I’m sure Y/N has her reasons.”

But as she stares at you, waiting for you to say something, you simply turn, walking off.

“I didn’t know you used to be in Fairy Tail,” Rufus drawls to you when you pass him, and your shoulders tighten.

That’s right... now, everyone knew.

“You never needed to know,” you say simply.

“Y/N.”

“It seems Fairy Tail’s Team A Gray Fullbuster approaches Sabertooth’s own Y/N Y/L/N, and the crowd watches in anticipation at the clear tension amongst the two of them--.”

Everything freezes. Shoulders tensing, you slowly turn, meeting Gray’s eyes -- the one you’d been specifically avoiding.

“We won’t lose.”

I know, you want to say. I don’t want you to, you want to tell him. I want Fairy Tail to win, you want to plead. But instead, knowing the eyes that watch you, you simply say; “neither will Sabertooth.”

This had to be some cruel joke.

Your punishment, maybe.

Sabertooth’s Y/N Y/L/N versus Fairy Tail’s Team A Gray Fullbuster

That’s what the board said, that what that God awful announcer calls with clear joy in his voice -- your first battle, the second day of the Games, and this way the turn out.

There was no way you’d win.

Ignoring the fact that you had no doubt Gray was stronger then you -- you simply just couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Not against Fairy Tail and certainly not against Gray.

“Good luck, Y/N,” Sting calls as you move to make your way towards the arena. “Though I doubt you’ll need it.”

You hate his words, hate the way he knows, hate the way he seems to get such joy out of everything that had happened. This was his fault. His fucking fault that you were here, and that this was happening.

Though, of course, even you knew that was true.

“Sabertooth’s Y/N Y/L/N has never been apart of Sabertooth’s team, but we can expect something great from Fiore’s strongest guild, needless to say. Do you know anything about Y/N Y/L/N, Yajima-san?”

“I don’t know much about Y/’N now, but in her Fairy Tail days, she never really made a name for herself, but I do distinctly remember her powers being incredibly unique.”

“Ah! A mystery then. And of course, Fairy Tail’s Gray Fullbuster is a Ice Wizard, but after his performance in day one’s Hidden Competition, the crowd’s not too sure what to expect. Nonetheless, it should be an intense match between old guildmates now turned enemy’s.”

“Shut up,” you hiss to yourself, nails digging into the palm of your hands.

“Ah, I see you’re just as chipper as you used to be.”

Swallowing thickly, you inhale sharply as Gray comes to a stop a few feet before you. It’s closest you’ve been to him since that first day, and more importantly, then in seven years. You’d already known since that day, but he really does look exactly like he had that day. Hasn’t aged a day. You don’t know the story, you don’t know how he’s back, but you know you’ve heard the term ‘seven year blank’ echoing around.

That makes more sense as you stare at him now.

Still eighteen, you’re now older then him then a year younger like you had been before.

Remaining silent, your head tilts back, where you know Sabertooth is, chest tightening.

“Y/N.”

Turning to Gray at the sound of your name, your lips part when you noticed the way his eyes have softened, even if only a little, like he caught something in the past moment you’d turned away from him. He looks so much more... concerned then he had the first day, and that was only yesterday. When he’d called for you, he’d looked so angry...

Now, he only looked worried.

“What happened?”

Swallowing thickly, you try to appear unbothered. “I left.”

“There’s more to it, I know there is,” Gray shakes his head, “the others told us about the day--”

Eyes clenching shut, a simply jerk of your head has Gray flying back. It causes a roar of gasps, surprise and anticipation in the thought that the fight is finally starting. But you know, unlike them, that it won’t get farther then that -- at least not from your end.

Gray hisses, slowly crawling to his feet, before he smirks at you; “you’ve gotten strong.”

“It’s been seven years.”

“Still,” he shrugs, stopping before you once again. “You have control now.”

You shrug, mimicking him with a smirk, “it’s been seven years.”

However, the facade falls all too quick when he takes a step towards you. Your body tenses, fists clenching as he continues to make his way towards you until he’s directly before you. He eyes you for a moment, quiet, carefully, and you nearly break then and there.

“It may have been seven years, but I know you best,” he whispers, voice low, “I know you’re lying.”

You shake your head, pushing his words away from your thoughts; “attack me.”

And he blinks, surprised; “what?”

“I need you to attack me,” you repeat, keeping your eyes trained downwards, refusing to meet his eyes. “I... I just need you to.”

And part of you expects him to -- you deserve it, you know, after all you’d done.

But, a second later, Gray’s stepping back, pulling your wide eyes on him as he shakes his head; “Fairy Tail doesn’t attack their own friends, Y/N. You know that.” And your breath hitches when his hand moves to raise.

“No!” You yell, before you can help yourself, eyes flashing a bright gold, like they had seconds before, holding Gray’s arm in place as he blinks back at you. Letting out a soft whimper, one you hope he doesn’t hear, you hold his arm in place, eyes falling shut as your own arm raises, the crowd falling eerily silent.

“I give up.”

And you knew, even as you feel the glares on your back, that there really wasn’t any other outcome that could’ve happened. You’d never hurt Gray, you knew, and you refused to hurt Fairy Tail anymore.

You were destined to lose this match.

“What’s so special about those fairies, huh?”

Wincing, you gasp at the squeeze on your throat, trying to suck in air that won’t come as your eyes fall on Sting’s own narrowed ones, glaring down at you. The brick of the wall behind you bites into your skin, and you know his grip will leave bruises, but even as you gasp for air and it feels like your vision is closing in on you, you have no regrets.

You never would, even if it’ll get you killed.

“What’s so fucking special about them?”

You refuse to respond, even if Sting wasn’t blocking off your air way you wouldn’t. Even if you could easily knock him away, send him flying, you don’t -- you’ll only pay for it more later.

“What’s so special about him?!”

He drops you then, and you fall to your knees with a thud, a cry leaving your lips as he sends a sharp kick to your gut, causing you to double over. It takes you a moment, a solid minute to catch your breath, and even then you’re still gasping, voice raspy as you raise your chin, eyes narrowing as you say the words you’ve been wanting to say to Sting for years.

“Fairy Tail is the guild Sabertooth could never be,” you hiss, your voice pathetic but your gaze menacing. “And Gray is a better man than you’ll ever be. All of them are. You’ll never be as good as Natsu.” You hit him where you know it hurts, the words having been on the tip of your tongue for years but you’d always held back in fear of what would happen.

Well, you’re no longer afraid. You’re too far gone now.

Sting’s eyes narrow and his face twists, ready to explode, before he breathes, and a smirk curls onto his lips. “You’ll never be apart of your pathetic guild again,” he hisses, “you’ll be stuck in Sabertooth for the rest of your life. Only, Master will make sure your life is a living hell.”

He sends another sharp kick at your side, but says nothing more as he turns, walking off with a huff.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself, slowly pushing yourself up to your knees where you stay, chest heaving, the pain radiating across your entire body, fingers finding your neck and touching the offended skin gently as you hiss in response.

You didn’t regret surrendering, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of what would happen when you walked into the inn that night.

You never should’ve left Fairy Tail. It was a regret you’d probably take to your grave.

“We actually have points thanks to you.”

Blinking at the sound of Gray’s voice, you slowly glance up at him, arm still wrapped tightly around your stomach as you stare up at him.

“I’m glad,” you whisper, smiling gently, “Fairy Tail deserves to win.”

Gray sighs, and stepping towards you, he reaches a hand out; “here,” he says softly, voice a mere whisper. You meet his eyes, before glancing at his hand for a moment, slowly slipping your own in it. He helps you to your feet, holding you up as you waver, hissing in pain, and then, before you know it, before you can even help yourself, you fall against him, forehead pressing against his shoulder as you let out a whimper.

“You know,” Gray says after a moment, “I still remember that kiss.”

Shaking your head, you let out a quiet, somewhat forced laugh.

“What happened, Y/N?”

“You were gone,” you whisper, finally answering. “You all were, but you were too. And... And I couldn’t handle staring at those doors everyday waiting for you to walk through them, only for you never to.” Pulling back, you meet his eyes, “I love you, I wanted to tell you that day, and it crushed me that I never did.”

Hands falling on your waist, Gray shakes his head; “no one would tell me where you were when we came back. It’s like every time I asked, this look would come over them and everyone would fall silent. When I learned it had been seven years, I wanted to see you first and tell you... tell you, I love you too.”

Biting your lip, “it’s too late,” you whisper. “The others must hate me and I... Sting will never let me leave.”

Gray’s grip tightens. “They don’t hate you, Y/N. Everyone misses you. I miss you,” and then, he shifts, cupping your cheek to pull your eyes on his own again. “I need you to come back.”

“But... Sting--”

“We’ll figure it out, Master will figure it out,” Gray argues, shaking his head. “The Guild needs you. I need you.”

Lips parting, you try to find the words, only to realize there are none. So, instead, you simply fall into his arms, holding him tight against you and hold on to his promise.

#fairy tail #fairy tail x reader #fairy tail imagine #ft #ft x reader #gray fullbuster #gray fullbuster imagine #gray fullbuster x reader #gray imagine #gray x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

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dpganime · 3 years ago

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Shaman King vs. Yu-Gi-Oh - What Yu-Gi-Oh did right

Shaman King was first broadcasted in US back in 2001, riding on the success of Yu-Gi-Oh franchise. Though the two series have many similarities, Shaman King was nowhere near as popular as Yu-Gi-Oh. While YGO had one spin-off after another, Shaman King only had a sequel Shaman King Flowers and a spin-off Shaman King Crimson in manga - and nothing in anime except for 2021 remake/reboot.

So, why isn’t Shaman King that successful? Here’s what YGO did right but Shaman King did not:

1) A balanced protagonist duo

Yugi Muto was a nice boy who wants to have friends. He found one in the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle, Yami Yugi/Pharaoh Atem. Unlike Yugi, Atem was more arrogant and can be merciless at time. Atem was also mysterious, with his real name and story not revealed until the last season, which kept the audience intrigued.

But in Shaman King...

Yoh Asakura was a nice and lazy guy, nothing more. His reason to become Shaman King was so that he could live an easy life? Or was it family duty? Whatever it was, we are interested enough to care.

His spirit partner Amidamaru and his human friend Manta were also Mr. Nice Guy. Three Mr. Nice Guys = BORING.

2) A rival who does not overshadow the protagonist

Seto Kaiba was a well-written character. In each YGO spin-off, there’s an expy of Yugi and an expy of Kaiba as well. Cold, jealous, and (a little too) obsessed on beating Yugi in card games, Kaiba was mostly an antagonist though sometimes ally. He also had a story - in the past and present, but he’s not taking over the show.

But in Shaman King...

Ren Tao was a blood knight that turned the whole show up-side-down. Well, actually, he was a kindhearted boy who was abused by his father. He was able to see his errors and redeem his wrongs. Compared to Yoh, he was a better fit as a main protagonist and as Shaman King. Unfortunately, he was not the main character.

3) A love interest who can be nasty but for a reason

Anzu Masaki was Yugi’s childhood friend. She had her abusive moments towards Jonouchi and Honda, but that’s because they were being inappropriate, like lifting up her skirt. Yugi had a crush on her, but Anzu liked Yugi’s spirit partner Atem, who shipped Yugi and Anzu...spawned many fanfics.

But in Shaman King...

Anna was mean. Period. She slapped Manta and punched Horohoro. Though I liked the 2021 version of Anna much more than 2001′s version, I find it very hard to understand why a nice guy like Yoh would be okay with Anna abusing everyone around him.

4) A beta couple who explains the plot

Wanna know why Blue-Eyes White Dragon meant so much to Kaiba? The answer: in their previous life, Blue-Eyes White Dragon was the spirit of Kaiba’s love interest, Kisara. It’s another story worthy to tune in where the origin of Kaiba vs. Yugi will be explained (come think of it, it has some Game of Thrones flavor to it).

But in Shaman King...

Ren got married...to Iron Maiden Jeanne. They had a son. But how did they get there?

Either you are very interested but can’t find enough details or you just don’t care, but find the couple coming out of nowhere.

5) The bad guys are punished for their wrongs

Pegasus was the big bad in the first story arc. He sealed Yugi’s grandfather’s soul to force Yugi to participate in Duelist Kingdom Tournament. Whatever his reason was, he lost and his Millennium Eye was taken from him - it was painful and traumatic. At least he didn’t kill anyone. Marik from the second arc had killed his father, but it was semi self-defense and in a moment of insanity.

But in Shaman King...

Ren killed. Iron Maiden Jeanne killed. X-Laws killed. Hao killed. Fraust opened up Manta with a surgical knife...and all of them are forgiven? For those who shipped Jun Tao and Lee Pyron, let me tell you what happened: Tao family killed Lee Pyron so that he could be her Jiang Shi puppet. And oh yeah, per Anna, Lee Pyron was married. So that makes Jun Tao a homewrecker - and she and Lee Pyron live happily ever after?

6) A satisfying ending

Atem found his name and returned to the past. Yugi moved on to be a legendary duelist, a real King of Game (which is what Yu-Gi-Oh means in Japanese). Friendship and true meaning of winning are well defined.

But in Shaman King...

Hao did all these bad stuff and he still won? He got to be Shaman King and decided not to wipe out humanity for the time being because his mom intervened? Okay, so what’s the point of this whole story? I’m lost.

So as for the rest of 2021 Shaman King episodes, I’m only going to watch the ones that feature Ren because I like this character. Nothing more. Sorry, I don’t think the remake is going to be any more successful than 2001 version.

#shaman king

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sullustangin · 2 years ago

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First, thank you for the tag (@/tiredassmage here <3), anndd I'll bite on the wip ask meme for A Man Who Lived For Tomorrow. If you're feeling two, also color me intrigued about If I were a carpenter. Or pick one of the two, whatever you like! <3

You and @should-i-say-it-like-a-spy asked for both the same fics! I'll answer one here and one on their ask in a little bit &&

"The Man Who Lived for Tomorrow" is my post-Nathema Theron spy thriller (sort of in the same vein as 'The Spy Who Loved Me'). Eva rejected Theron's proposal and fled Odessen for Port Nowhere and other parts unknown for three months. Lana and Theron try to restructure the Alliance in case Eva doesn't come back. It becomes evident that new issues in midrim shipping are more sinister than they seem, and so while Lana gets stuck with the admin, Theron deploys himself to play spy games. He runs into people that should be dead, remakes the acquaintance of an old rival, and finally finds himself on Aargonar, disguised as the prodigal son of some shipping magnate.

Turns out Eva assigned herself the same problem. Here’s a brief bit from the speeder chase scene:

Eva growled in frustration as there were still some that were interested in Risha. “Cut back.”

Theron carefully watched his rearview mirror and activated his implants to keep the speeder from colliding with anything in front of him. He saw Eva climb up on the back of the speeder. Her gauzy clothes whipped around in the wind as she fired at the pursuers.

Theron couldn’t help but observe she was still so very beautiful, and the fact she was wielding dual blasters and killing bad guys was definitely doing something for him.

They hit max velocity. “I got a bolthole where we can go once we shake these guys,” Theron called up to her.

There was no response. She was too focused.

The wind started to spin up, the dust obscuring both the pursued and the pursuers. Theron’s eyes snapped up to the rearview mirror as she yelped. “Eva?” He saw her right arm drop slightly, but she fought the urge to cover it with her left.

A blaster bolt had sliced through the dust and struck her. “Right arm.”

“How bad?”

She fired off another few rounds into the dust cloud. “Graze. Stings.”

“Get down. Swap with me.” Eva sat down on the back of the speeder and carefully slid down into the passenger seat.

Eva crawled over Theron’s right leg and grabbed the yoke of the speeder. At the same time, Theron extracted his left leg and managed to pivot so that he eventually crouched in the passenger’s footwell. With a flick of his wrist, he managed to pop the trunk of the speeder.

The door opened up toward them, the hatch providing cover from their enemies. Theron quickly retrieved a rifle from the trunk and prepared to use the raised hatched as cover to eliminate the rest of the targets. Eva cast a quick glance over his way. “That would have been nice to know about.”

“You’re the better pilot. I can’t steer this thing with the imbalance like you can.”

Eva let out a slightly proud harrumph as she focused her attention on the sand ahead of them.

#swtor #swtor fan fiction #wip #theron shan #oc: eva corolastor #askbox #Thanks for asking!!#theron shan x smuggler

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tcm · 4 years ago

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In Memory of Brian, Fred and Jerry by Susan King

I mourn the loss of Hollywood legends, especially those I have interviewed over the years. I broke into tears when Debbie Reynolds died four years ago, recalling our last chat together in 2016 when we did a duet of “Moses Supposes.” And I still haven’t watched TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (’62) since Gregory Peck died in 2003. I had the opportunity to interview the handsome Oscar-winner at his now torn down home in 1997 and 1999. He was everything you’d hope he would be – sweet, intelligent and funny. He also loved Bob Dylan. His last words to me as he walked me to my car were: “You are a most interesting young lady.”

In 2020 alone, I lost over 20 former interviewees including Kirk Douglas, whom I interviewed eight times between 1986-2017, and my beloved Olivia de Havilland, who I found to be delightful and a bit ribald in the two interviews I did with her. I got more than a little misty when Brian Dennehy, Fred Willard and Jerry Stiller died this year. They were supremely talented and made our lives a little brighter with their performances. And, they all were great guys and fun interviews.

Brian Dennehy

I interviewed Brian Dennehy, who died in April at the age of 81, several times in the early 1990s when I was at the L.A. Times. The former U.S. Marine and football player was intimidating at first sight. He was tall, burly and barrel-chested. He had a no-nonsense quality about him, and he spoke his mind. But he also was funny.

In 1991, discussing how hard it was for some actors to land parts after starring in a TV series, he noted “coming off a TV series is a tough deal, and you go into limbo land for a while, if not forever. Most actors go immediately to the ‘Island of Lost Actors’ and stay there. Troy Donahue is the mayor.” Dennehy never went to that island. Not with the complex and often memorable performances he gave in such films as FIRST BLOOD (’82), SILVERADO (’85), COCOON (’85), PRESUMED INNOCENT (’90) and as Big Tom in the comedy TOMMY BOY (’95).

He was nominated for five Emmys, including one for his chilling turn as serial killer John Wayne Gacy in the miniseries To Catch a Killer (’92).

I had one of the most extraordinary evenings at the theater in 2000 when Dennehy reprised his Tony Award-winning role as the tragic Willy Loman at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles in the lauded revival of Arthur Miller’s masterpiece Death of a Salesman. It was a gut-wrenching performance that left me emotionally exhausted. He earned another Tony in 2003 as James Tyrone in the revival of Eugene O’Neill’s superb Long Day’s Journey into Night. And he never stopped working.

Shortly after his death, the drama DRIVEWAYS (2020) was released on streaming platforms. And it could be Dennehy’s greatest performance. He plays Del, an elderly widower and Korean War vet who sparks a warm friendship with Cody, the young boy next door. The reviews for the film (it’s at 100% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes) and Dennehy have been glowing. The L.A. Times’ Justin Chang wrote that Dennehy’s Del is as “forceful and tender a creation as any in this great actor’s body of work.” And Jeannette Catsoulis of The New York Times stated: “What we might remember most, perhaps appropriately, are Dennehy’s warm, weary features and rich line readings. In a lovely final monologue, Del advises Cody to avoid rushing past the experiences in life that matter, as they pass so quickly on their own. Much like the careers of beloved actors.”

Fred Willard

I first encountered Fred Willard as the clueless sidekick of sleazy talk show host Barth Gimble (Martin Mull) in the late 1970s on the syndicated comedy series Fernwood Tonight and its continuation America 2-Night. I quickly became a fan, and that admiration grew when he became a member of Christopher Guest’s stock company of zanies in such comedies as WAITING FOR GUFFMAN (’96) and BEST IN SHOW (2000). In the latter, he played the equally clueless dog show announcer Buck Laughlin who quipped in his color commentary, “And to think that in some counties these dogs are eaten.”

Willard told me in a 2012 L.A. Times interview that he didn’t think he was funny until he was an adult. “I always loved comedy growing up – Bob Hope, Red Skelton and Danny Kaye,” said Willard, who died in May at the age of 86.

Willard got a serious part in Tennessee Williams’ one-act in a summer theater group when he was in his 20s. “I was getting laughs on all the lines,” he noted. “The director got upset because the audiences were always laughing. I didn’t try to do it deliberately. Then I realized I would say things around people, and they would laugh. I didn’t mean to be funny. I have always been relaxed around comedy.”

Just as Dennehy, Willard kept working. In fact, he received an Emmy nomination posthumously for his hilarious turn as Ty Burrell’s goofball dad on ABC’s Modern Family. He told me he wished he could try to do more dramatic fare like in Clint Eastwood’s World War II drama Flags of Our Fathers (2006). Willard even called his agent to see if he could get a role in the movie. “Clint Eastwood’s people called back and said, ‘We love Fred, but we are afraid if he appeared on the screen, they might start to laugh.’’’

Jerry Stiller

Jerry Stiller was a real sweetie and also very thoughtful. He sent me a lovely thank you note when I interviewed him and his wife, Anne Meara, in the early 1990s. When I talked to him for his son Ben Stiller’s remake of THE HEARTBREAK KID (2007), Stiller sent me a lovely bouquet of flowers. Ditto in 2010 when I interviewed the couple for a Yahoo! Web series Stiller & Meara: A Show About Everything. I also received Christmas cards until Meara died in 2015.

Baby boomers remember Stiller, who died at 92 in May, and Meara for their smart and sophisticated comedy act, in which the majority of the humor came from the fact that he was Jewish and she was born Irish Catholic. They recorded albums, were popular on the nightclub circuit and did The Ed Sullivan Show three dozen times. They split up their act when musical variety series went away.

Both were terrific dramatic actors. In fact, I saw Stiller in the 1984 Broadway production of Hurlyburly, David Rabe’s scathing look at Hollywood, and he did a 1997 production of Chekhov’s The Three Sisters. Of course, Stiller garnered even more success in his Emmy-nominated role as Frank Costanza, the caustic father of George (Jason Alexander) on NBC’s Seinfeld (1993-98) and was the best reason to watch CBS’ sitcom The King of Queens (1998-2007) as Kevin James’ acerbic father-in-law

But I most remember that 2010 interview where Stiller and Meara bantered back and forth much to my enjoyment. Here they talk about Ed Sullivan:

Anne: I never liked him.

Jerry: You are out of your mind. You never liked him?

Anne: He scared stuff out of me. I am talking about Mr. Sullivan himself. I wasn’t the only one. There were international favorites throwing up in the wings—singers and tenors and guys who spin plates. It was live. We were scared.

Jerry: Ed Sullivan brought us up to the level that we knew we never could get to – him standing there on the right side of the wings laughing, tears coming out of his eyes and then calling us over and saying, ‘You know, we got a lot of mail on that last show you did.’ I said, ‘From Catholic or Jewish people?’ He said, ‘The Lutherans.’”

#Jerry Stiller #brian dennehy #in memoriam #Fred Williard #Ben Stiller #TCM Classic Film Festival #LA Times #Susan King #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #comedians #actors

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beyfantasy · 4 years ago

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Redesigned White Tigers from my BEYBLADE AU “Beyfantasy” in 2010.

One of the things I wanted to fix in the old 2010 art were the character poses. I made sure that the remake of the old artworks were more dynamic and having better energy! While Rai, Mao, and Kiki retained most of their designs- Gao had the most changes.

Champion Rai In the old art, Rai's front fist was covering one of the cool parts of his outfit- which was the pendant/neck area. I prioritized his punch over showing off the costume detail before, so for the new pose- the first goal in mind when illustrating him was to show off that area. I also designed gauntlets for him~

Another thing that bothered me were his pants. Back then, it was a fun idea to go all out on it. For the new design- I wanted to tone it down while retaining the Lion Dance pants element. I think the remade artwork has a better balance of the elaborate flair in his pants!

I wanted to keep his silhouette and scale as similar as possible in the old design so not much of the pose has changed. The way his hair flares out and the buff of his chest area were meant to show the strength and silhouette of a lion. His legs had to be spread apart to add to the lion impression, as well as match Lei's stance. His artwork is meant to be Lei's opposite and is drawn so that they look like a pair of brothers - Light and Dark. While Lei has a more fixed "perfect" stance, Rai has a more loose and wild stance. I also made sure to improve on his expression of rage as this says a lot about his story.

His Lotus motif remains- representing perfection, and the season of summer. It also represents inward emptying and outward splendor- this can also refer to his release of feelings about Lei.

Berserker Mao Mao's design has always been one of my favorite Beyfantasy designs. Her first design was well-loved by many people too and I was happy with the color combinations. Her silhouette was meant to give the impression of a cat- hence the back part being longer like a tail. I originally intended to make her hair a little pinker towards a cool color that was closer to Magenta, but I remembered that a lot of people appreciated her "redder" hair in this design. It was also similar to her first colored manga art. While I was coloring, I realized that the redder hair blended better with the kind of pinks, blues, and golds she had in her overall outfit so I decided to scrap the "pinker" hair idea.

Looking back, one thing that bothered me in her old design were her shoes. I remember putting those shoes for "comfort" and ease of movement, with the bandages there to hold the shoes in place so they don't fly around. Considering her fighting style, the shoes might still come off when she would spin because the friction from the ground will overpower the area covered on her feet by the shoe. I decided to give her shoes that covered her entire feet with appropriate socks in place for better stability.

Her claws were drawn better since in the old one- it looked like they would chip off or lift when she would scratch. This time, she can use them to punch, claw, or defend. The armor on her gloves reaches until just below her elbow, but her sleeves and bandages conceal that.

The blue part of her outfit was cute, but I wanted to soften the edges since they looked a bit block-y. The ends now have a cute petal-y design framing the Peony embroidery. I removed the leaves on her Peony clip and had the strings form a ribbon instead with tassels on the end. Having the leaves around would be overkill, and would take away the focus on her eyes. The ribbon is a nod to her trademark in the anime. The Peony motif is kept on her - an exquisite flower symbolizing nobility and value. It is also associated with affection and female beauty. The Peony is also a flower of spring.

Lastly, I was very careful with drawing her face. It was tempting to doll her up with vibrant makeup, but I had to hold back a lot. I reduced the amount of eyeshadow she had, added a simple blush, and kept the lipstick more nude. While she is beautiful and her design is elaborate, she was still not the kind of girl who would bother way too much with vanity.

Thief Kiki I had to redeem myself from how I drew his weapon in the old art so this was my chance! I wanted to show off his transforming weapon- the three sections and the chain. While the way it is wielded in the art does not make sense at all in combat action, it does well for his character art and silhouette. I tried to incorporate a monkey-like silhouette for this remake by having him raise his arms that way.

Not much changed from the idea of his design. I did want to make him look more of a "youth on the go" so I made the yellow cardigan have a hoodie attached to it. His shoes were changed to something that occupied more of his feet. The waist sash remains in the same silhouette like a monkey tail. I did consider giving him darker/blue colors to match the "thief" theme, but it didn't work out too well. His outfit is also what he would wear in the tournament where he's revealed to be a weapons master and not just a run-off-the-mill thief. I stuck with the same color plan.

I was debating on whether or not I should make his transforming staff glow or not. Glowing weapons were more of the All Starz's theme so I decided to express its specialty by adding Chrysanthemum designs on it and giving it an unusual color. His motif Chrysanthemum, can be found on his weapon, his purple top, and on his back. This flower symbolizes a life of ease and is often given in funerals. The Chrysanthemum stands for the season of autumn. This cold flower could express the fact that Kiki had feelings for Mao, but there doesn't seem to be any hope for romantic success between them because of Lei so he tries his best to put these emotions at rest. It's ironic that his colors are more tropical/summer-like, but if you look closer there's still a coldness to some parts of his color palette.

Grappler Gao Gao is the character that had a lot of costume changes. I started off by picking the elements in his first design that I liked best- which were the colors, the waist sash, and the fur. His old design was greatly imbalanced in weight. I could not understand if I was going for a cool or warm outfit type. For the remake- I decided to go for a warmer and heavier type of outfit. I worried it looked uncomfortable since just looking at it made me feel suffocated. But I imagined him in a winter setting and thought of the “heavy weight” element I wanted so it cleansed me of doubts to go for it.

The metal weights were changed to more practical/modern looking weights. This shift to a simpler design was to balance out the changes in his more elaborate top's design. A belt was added to match his boots and top's stitches. This new iteration has a lot of leather and fabric that gives a good amount of friction.

The old artwork's pose was his default stance and I found it too lazy for a remake drawing. I wanted to express his character better by adding a lamb chop he's eating from! I did my best to make it look tasty.

The Plum Blossom motif can be seen at the bottom of his waist sash. During the winter season, the plum blossom grows flowers from seemingly dead branches- representing new life at the end of the said season. The Plum Blossom also represents courage and hope. In the Beyfantasy, Gao was a child nomad who found home in the White Tiger village and he started living a new kind of vibrant life with Rai and the others.

Those are the designer's notes on the White Tigers Beyfantasy Remake! As with the others, I rewrote some parts of their character descriptions. I am very happy with how they turned out and am also satisfied that I was able to give their backstories and profiles better clarity and color compared to before.

Thank you for reading ^-^

#BEYBLADE #BEYFANTASY #White Tigers

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weirdmarioenemies · 4 years ago

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Name: Whomp

Debut: Super Mario 64

You know what I’ve been thinking about lately? Super Mario 64. Haven’t we all, really? Between all the recent datamines and general online discussion, I can’t help but wonder about Super Mario 64!

Something I don’t think Mario 64 gets enough appreciation for, is being the birthplace of our beloved Whomps! At least, I certainly belove them. Don’t you? We’ve covered pretty much every “Thwomp” variant in the past, and sure, Whomps may be nowhere near the “obscure” side of enemies, but a splendid design is a good thing to appreciate anytime!

Not only is this their debut, but they get a whole stage themed around them: the Whomp’s Fortress, if by “fortress” you mean a vague collection of scattered obstacles and platforms floating in the sky, like most 64 stages! That sure is a lot of... textures! My favorite part is the little paddling pool near the bottom.

And who could forget the Whomp in all their original polygonal glory? Clearly they just wanted to make an enemy who is just a rectangle with a texture on top, yet the design had all its charm even back then! The sunken eyes with glowing red pupils, the H-shaped mouth with the crooked teeth... it’s very cute, in an ugly way. And on the back, their weak spot is a crack with a bandage on top! Adorable!

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it- that’s why the Whomp has only really had a few subtle redesigns over the years! When they appeared in Mario 64 DS, they looked just a little bit nicer to look at. They were also in New Super Mario Bros. DS, using the same model- a 3D only enemy in a 2D game, how strange indeed! Their first appearance in a new mainline game in 10 whole years- and it probably just happened because they wanted to reuse assets.

Another redesign? Don’t mind if I do! The Whomp’s grand return to the third dimension happened in Mario Galaxy 2, really cementing them (hah) as a modern Mario classic. This time, they’re huge! And square-ish! And uh, their eyes aren’t wacky anymore. No longer having a band-aid, they instead have a big ground-pound symbol on their back now, which must be just awful, right? Can you imagine having a big logo emblazoned on your back which says “crush me with your butt here”?

This here is their artwork from Mario Party 9. It’s the same as the art from Galaxy 2, but their eyes are glowy now. I just thought this was funny. But I’m getting ahead of myself here! Before I talk about Mario Party, I need to talk about...

Their monarch, the big bad Whomp King! He’s just... He’s just a big Whomp. He acts just like other Whomps, but he’s big and takes three hits. What’s totally memorable about this boss, though, is the villain monologue he gives before fighting!

“It makes me so mad! We build your houses, your castles, we pave your roads, and still you walk all over us. Do you ever say thank you? No! Well, you're not going to wipe your feet on me. I think I'll crush you just for fun! Do you have a problem with that? Just try to pound me, wimp! Ha!”

Uh oh! Looks like Mario’s world has a little problem with under-valuing essential workers! Good thing our world has nothing like that. Well, jokes aside, it’s a pretty cheeky nod at how the Whomps are made of stone- but one has to wonder much of this tragic backstory is serious! It must be a pretty nasty lot in life, huh?

Don’t feel bad- in 64 DS and Mario Galaxy 2, the Whomp King got a snazzy new crown! At least someone appreciates him a bit!

Well, it wasn’t just him: Galaxy 2′s Throwback Galaxy was one big reimagining of Whomp’s Fortress, meaning this is probably the most Whomp-focused game released in the past decade. The music was remixed, the boss fight was revamped- all in all, a lovely throwback indeed!

And the Whomp has basically just... stuck around! You may have noticed the image at the top (from Super Mario Party) has a slightly different design, being a little more rectangular with smaller, thinner eyes and a more angular mouth! They definitely redesigned the Whomp again at some point, but I couldn’t tell you exactly when... Either way, I’m glad they’re here for good!

Not that Whomps ever really went anywhere! In the years between Super Mario 64 and its remake, Whomps survived almost exclusively in Mario Party (and other spin-offs), functioning mainly as roadblocks that don’t allow the player to pass!

Which brings me to my final point- between their design and this function, the Whomp is most likely based on the mythological yōkai called... the Nurikabe! And since I’d love nothing more, I’ll now go into a long-winded tangent about what the Nurikabe is, and... Hey, wait!! Come back! It’ll be interesting, I swear! Don’t cut off the post! Hey-

Yeah, yeah. You’re all sick of my long-winded yōkai posts. But I’m happy you joined me here, even if it was out of pity. Let’s talk about the Nurikabe!

Look at this big guy! What a card! Nurikabe literally translates to plaster wall, and they take the form of a big invisible wall that blocks the way of travellers at night. Since they’re invisible, they naturally don’t have many illustrations- leave it to Shigeru Mizuki to depict them as a large, goofy-looking slab of stone! This Nurikabe joined the main cast of the GeGeGe no Kitaro manga, and thus quickly became a cornerstone (haha) of their popular depictions!

(To be fair, there does exist an old illustration of the Nurikabe as a strange, lumpy dog thing... but I’m not MUCH of a fan? I think a literal stone wall is so much more charming!)

Come on, look at this! What could be better?

Ōkami has a rather lovely Nurikabe-looking guy! Though his design is splendid, if you’ve played Ōkami you likely remember him as “the extremely frustrating memory puzzle” or “the memory puzzle that is literally scientifically impossible for the human brain to solve”. Shame!

Yo-kai Watch has the Murikabe, a.k.a “Noway” in the English version! “Muri” means “no way”. So like, it’s a pun. Hoho.

Nioh’s Nurikabe is quite scary, but also rather cool! Don’t you think? I still know very little about Nioh, but whenever I look at its yōkai I think “Dang! That’s cool!”, and I’m right, and it is cool.

The Super Sentai series has two whole Nurikabe monsters, each based on a different Nurikabe look! While the latter is quite cool, I’m in love with the former and its weird, grungy brick wall look! It’s like, the dictionary definition of Gnarly! Though I know very little about tokukatsu shows, I think its kind of fascinating how creative they can get with designing humanoid monsters suits!

You may be wondering: was this entire post just a thinly-veiled excuse for me to talk about the Nurikabe? And to that I say:

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmaybe....???

#mario #mario enemies #super mario 64 #super mario galaxy 2 #whomp #nurikabe #mod f boy

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years ago

Text

Choices

Rating: T (This rating will be increasing to an M in the coming chapters)

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: Whew. This took longer than I was anticipating, but I’m pretty happy with the result! This is a ClanLeader!Din AU, inspired by @magichandthing‘s amazing artwork, and also inspired by the 2017 remake of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. This will be a multi-chapter fic, and while I hope to get the next chapter out in a week or so, I make no promises! I hope you guys like it! Comments/Reblogs are more than welcome, it makes me so happy to know what you guys think!

Tags: @chibi-liz05

If you want to be tagged in any future chapters (or any other works) just let me know!

“Will you open the stall today?”

You look up as you hear your father’s voice calling from outside in the garden. You wipe your hands off on your apron, the streaks of white flour maring the blue fabric. Stepping out into the sunlight, you see your father standing by the door, his medical bag slung over one shoulder.

“One of the children in a nearby village is sick, so I can’t go into town today. Will you go in and open up the stall for a little while? I promised some of the children that I would have new toys for them today, but I likely won’t be back before sundown.”

“Of course, Papá. Go! I’ll be fine.” He grins at you, kissing your forehead as you step forward to hug him. “Be safe!” You wave as he climbs into the speeder and drives off in the direction of the neighboring village.

You head back inside to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You were going to spend the day baking, but now that you’ll be in town, you’ll have to save the baking for tomorrow. After you quickly clean up, you grab your father’s toy satchel, filled with all of the new wooden toys he’s carved for the children of the village, and head into town. The walk isn’t far and it’s nice out today, the suns shining down, causing the morning dew to shimmer on the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass.

You stop along the path to pick a few wildflowers, tucking them into the pocket on your apron. Old Nan loves them, and you figure she can put them in a small vase in her home, or on display at her stall. She mostly sells knitted things, but occasionally she sells jam and honey, and she’s always willing to trade some with you for a few pretty flowers.

As the village comes into view, you see a few of the children running about and playing in the fields. You wave, and they come running over excitedly. The children of the village love you and your Papá, unlike most of the adults. They love the toys your Papá creates, and they don’t mind that you prefer reading and baking to finding a husband. Children do not judge others for their choices, their innocence bright and refreshing.

“Miss! Miss! Are you going to open the stall?” One of the children, Atleah, gasps excitedly, her little hands clutching at your skirts. She has many little toys and wooden gadgets from you and your Papá, and she always wants more. “Please, please, please open the stall! Eddarth said you had new toys!”

The boy standing next to her, her brother Eddarth, grinned unashamedly. You smile softly, pressing a hand against the soft hair on Atleah’s head to calm her. “Is Eddie telling tales?” You remark aloud, and you fight back a giggle as Atleah frowns. “I cannot remember if there is anything new for me to put at the stall…” You trail off, and Atleah tugs you along behind her as she practically drags you into the village, towards the marketplace.

“But Miss!” She protests, tugging on the straps of your satchel. “Miss, you have the toy bag, so that must mean you have new toys!” She reasons, expression pleading, and you’re unable to keep up the facade.

“Oh! I do remember! Papá made a few new toys, some speeders and ships I believe.” Atleah squeals in excitement, and doubles down in her efforts to drag you to the stall. You’re laughing by the time you arrive, surrounded on all sides by excitable children. They wait impatiently for you to open up the stall, unlocking the cases and placing your wares out on display.

Atleah immediately finds the toy she wants, a small replica of a sand crawler, complete with little Jawa figurines. You’d lived your whole life here on Roon, but your father had grown up on a moisture farm on Tatooine, and the children loved to hear stories of a planet covered in sand, so unlike the planet they’d been born on.

You allow the children to pick their toys, bending down so each one can whisper their secret into your ear as payment. You watch amused as the children settle in the grass not too far from your stall, already coming up with games that they can play with their new wares.

The children were usually the only ones to visit your stall, although occasionally adults would come to request your Papá’s medical skills for their families. The adults of the village didn’t like you or your Papá all that much. You were tolerated, but that was about it. You knew what they thought of you, that your Papá had allowed you too much independence, that you’d never settle down and become the good little housewife that was expected of the women in the village. They thought your Papá a touch mad, a little crazy because he preferred to make toys and gadgets all day, instead of using his skills as a medic to become rich.

Old Nan wandered over to your stall, one of her knitted shawls wrapped tightly around her bony shoulders. She was half blind, but she enjoyed holding your Papá’s toys in her hands, feeling the carvings and details with her old fingers. As she approached, you pulled the bouquet of wildflowers out of your apron, tying them together with a spare piece of string.

“Oh, dear girl, you shouldn’t have.” Her voice was warm, filled with affection as she accepted the flowers from you. “You spoil this old lady so.” She gently brought the flowers to her face, breathing in the scent.

“I like to think of it as a fair trade,” you offered, grinning. “A beautiful bouquet of flowers for a beautiful woman, in exchange for a little bit of delicious honey and jam.” Old Nan swatted at you playfully, her lips pulling back over her teeth in a delighted grin.

“You’re such a charmer, dear girl, how have none of the boys in this gods-forsaken village swept you off your feet?”

You’re about to answer when a large hand slams down on the wooden surface of your stall, startling the both of you and knocking some of your Papá’s creations over.

“She likes to play hard to get, spinster. Isn’t that right, my treasure?”

Glaring at the hulking figure before you, you straighten the toys he knocked over. “I am not your treasure, Gallan. I do not belong to anyone, least of all you, and I never will.” You smack his hand away as he tries to touch you. “And it is rude to refer to your elders in such a manner. Apologize.”

He grunts an apology that both you and Old Nan know isn’t sincere, but you take what you can get. “I don’t understand why you keep turning me down, treasure,” he drawls, grinning even as you grimace. “There’s no finer husband on all of Roon than myself, surely your fool of a father can see that. It’s only a matter of time before he agrees to give me your hand.”

“I am not a possession to be bartered for, Gallan. My Papá has agreed that I do not have to marry if I do not wish it. And even if I did wish to marry someone, it wouldn’t be you.” Turning so your back is to him, you attempt to begin a conversation with Old Nan, hoping Gallan would just leave, but he is not so easily dissuaded.

There is suddenly a tight grip around your wrist, and Gallan roughly yanks you back, spinning you around so you’re facing him. You tug uselessly against his grip, cringing back as he runs a finger down the side of your face.

“You’ll give in to me eventually, my treasure. There’s no other woman in the village who can compare to your beauty. I won’t accept anyone else as my wife. You will be mine,” he all but growls, bringing his face closer to yours. You try to turn away, but his grip is too tight. You know none of the other villagers will step in to help you. With the exception of Old Nan, they all love Gallan, and many of the women are jealous of the attention he lavishes on you, unwanted as it may be.

“Let go of me!” Your voice is loud, angry, but he only laughs as you try to escape him. “Gallan, let me go!”

He laughs mockingly. “Who’s gonna make me?”

“She said to let her go.”

Gallan is startled by the harsh voice behind him, and he whirls around, unfortunately dragging you with him. Standing in front of your stall is a Mandalorian. Your eyes widen in shock. You knew there was a Mandalorian covert not far from the village, but they rarely ventured into town. When they did come to buy supplies, they came in twos, and never the same ones as before. You thought it might have something to do with diversion tactics, never allow the enemy to know how many are in your command or something similar. You knew the Mandalorians were a warrior race, so it wouldn’t surprise you.

Your Papá had traded some medical supplies with the covert a couple of times, so you’d seen some of them the few times they’d appeared on your doorstep, but almost never in the town square or marketplace. You did not fear the Mandalorians, like many of the other villagers, but even you had to admit the one in front of you was intimidating.

He–well, you assumed it was a he, it was hard to tell–stood close to six feet tall. His armor was made of beskar, gleaming silver in the sunlight. It covered his chest, back, arms and legs, and where he didn’t have armor, he had thick canvas fabric leaving his skin completely covered. He had multiple blades strapped all over his body, along with a pistol of some sort holstered at his side. He had some type of contraption on his back–in addition to the weapon that looked to be some kind of long range rifle–and it looked to you as though it was a jetpack. His arms were crossed and his helmet gave nothing away, but you could tell by the tilt that he was focused on Gallan, not you.

“You have no business here, Mandalorian,” Gallan spat, his grip tightening around your wrist, and you winced as you felt the bones creak under his grip. “Go back and hide in your dingy, damp little caves. No one wants you here.” Gallan had a sneer on his face, and you wondered how any of the girls in this village could find this man handsome.

“I believe the young woman wants you to let her go.” The Mandalorian did not move, and he certainly did not sound at all intimidated by Gallan. “So let. her. go.”

Gallan’s grip slackened just enough at the hidden threat in the Mandalorian’s voice that you were able to yank your wrist free. Cradling your quickly bruising and sore wrist to your chest, you rubbed the tender skin as you backed away from Gallan. Emboldened by the presence of a Mandalorian, you spoke once more. “Leave, Gallan. Do not speak to me again.”

He looked you up and down, a lewd, lecherous grin stretching across his lips. “I’ll be back, treasure. One of these days, I’ll wear your father down. Make no mistake, you will be mine.” You glared at him, angrily watching him leave, before turning to your savior.

Before you could speak, the Mandalorian stepped forward, holding his hand out. “May I?” He asked, when you didn’t move. Blinking, you placed your hand in his, watching as he inspected your wrist. “Did he hurt you?”

Old Nan grumbled, and you started, nearly having forgotten she was there. “That boy has got some nerve,” she huffed, shuffling forward, uncaring of the big, hulking Mando. “Grabbing you like that. How many times has he done that, dear child?”

You sighed. Old Nan was perhaps the only adult in the village who didn’t dislike you or your Papá, and while she may not have approved of Gallan, she was the only one. Everyone else seemed to think you were blessed to have his attention, or some other such nonsense. “He seems to think I am his property, just because he’s decided I’m the prettiest girl in the village,” you grumbled to Old Nan, and she tutted disapprovingly. “He’s never been all that violent, just… aggressive in his affection, if you can call it that.”

You had a feeling the Mandalorian was looking at you incredulously, although with his helmet you couldn’t know for sure. “He nearly dislocated your wrist.” He finished inspecting your hand before lowering it slowly. “This has happened before?” You nodded.

“He’ll leave bruises on my arms from grabbing me too hard, and once he shoved me against a wall so hard I had a bump on the back of my head.”

Old Nan gasped, and you winced, you’d forgotten she hadn’t known about that particular incident. “Why?” Her voice was quiet, and she had tears in her eyes.

“Um, well…” You trailed off, grimacing. “I may have… laughed at him when his mogo threw him while he was trying to show off.” Old Nan snorted, trying to stifle a grin.

The Mandalorian shook his head. “He should not have harmed you, even then.” You shrugged, fiddling with one of the toys your Papá had carved. “How much for those?” This Mandalorian was giving you whiplash with the way he seemed to jump from conversation to conversation.

“Do you mean the toys?” You asked, and when he nodded, you eyed him up and down critically. “Depends on who they’re for. I’ll sell them to travelers and tourists, but I have a bartering system set up with the village children. Why?”

He sighed, and the harsh static of his vocoder crackled with the noise. “Will you come with me?” He raised his hands up, palms facing you in a gesture of peace. “No harm will come to you, I swear. Bring the toys.” You contemplated for a second, before the pieces fell into place. You nodded, and after you placed them carefully in a satchel, he began to lead you out of the village, but not before you bid Old Nan good day. You walked at his side, relishing in the fact that for once, the villagers were staring, but it wasn’t because of you.

As you began to leave the village behind, he stopped, before turning his helmet towards you. You stopped as well, and waited for him to speak. “May I blindfold you?” You weren’t all that surprised by his request. From the little you knew of the Mandalorians, you knew they were insanely private. While you knew of the existence of the covert, you knew very little about it. You had no idea how many Mandalorians there were, although you suspected at the very least there were children, due to his request about the toys.

Nodding, you watched as he produced a strip of black fabric, and you allowed him to gently wrap it around your face, covering your eyes and causing your vision to go dark. “Can you see anything?” You shook your head. “I’ll need to fly us there. May I…?” You could hear the unspoken question in his voice, and you nodded. You were nervous about flying without being able to see, but it would be rude to refuse now.

You felt one of his arms brace against the small of your back as his other slid beneath your knees, pulling your legs out from underneath you as he stood, cradling your body in his arms. You can feel your face heat up under the blindfold, even though nothing he’s doing could be considered inappropriate or indecent–unless you considered that it was customary for husbands to carry their wives from the altar to their homestead in such a manner, and you’d never imagined you would experience it–although if your Papá saw you now you were sure that he’d have questions.

He’s about to take off when you think of something. “What should I call you?” As he stays silent, you elaborate. “It doesn’t have to be your actual name, but I feel rude just referring to you as Mandalorian.”

You don’t think he’s going to answer you, but then he speaks, just before activating his jetpack. “Din. My name is Din Djarin.”

You don’t have a chance to respond before the jetpack fires up, and then you’re airborne. You clutch at Din’s armor as best you can, although with how tight his grip is, you’re pretty confident you won’t fall. The wind whips your hair around your face, and you tuck your chin, turning your face into his chest to protect your skin from the harsh, biting cold from being so high up.

The wind combined with the noise of the jetpack makes it too loud for conversation, so he flies in silence, although admittedly not for very long. You can feel the change in the wind as you begin to descend, and before long, your body is jolted as Din lands with a soft thud.

He gently lowers you to the ground, and you’re somewhat surprised at the gentleness of his movements, in spite of his size and the bulky nature of his armor. Once you’re standing on your own two feet, you sway slightly, disoriented due to your blindfold and the–admittedly short–flight. His hands on your arms steady you for a moment, before turning you and gently leading you forward.

You stumble along next to him for a few moments, but then he pauses, and slowly the fabric is removed from over your eyes. You blink rapidly as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting surrounding you. You’re underground, or at least, it looks like you are. The walls are some kind of smooth stone, and the hallway stretching out in front of you is lit by gas lanterns hung from the ceiling. The lanterns are the only source of light, but it doesn’t feel dark and oppressive, like you imagined a cave might feel. The walls and floors are clean of any moisture, and you feel a vicious sense of pleasure that Gallan had misjudged the Mandalorian covert’s home so spectacularly.

“Are you alright?” You turn to look at Din, and with your eyes still adjusting, it takes you a moment to find his helmet, so that you could look at him.

“Yes, I’m fine. This is where the covert stays, I take it?”

He nods once. “I’ll be taking you straight to the children. The adults will likely be cautious, but the children less so.”

You shrug. “It’s a dynamic I’m used to,” you offer as you begin to follow him down the hallway. You think you hear Din say something, but his voice is too quiet to make out any distinguishable words.

“I need to warn you,” he says, pausing before a huge metal door, turning towards you. “Inside the covert, things are a bit… different. We wear our full beskar out in public, but in our home, we’re more… relaxed.”

You nod, before fear grips you. “Wait, do they know you’re bringing me? I don’t want you to get into trouble, bringing an outsider into your home–” Din cuts you off with a chuckle, his leather-covered palm resting squarely in the middle of your back.

“Sarad’ika, calm down. I wouldn’t have brought you here without making sure it was alright with the Clan Leader, don’t worry. He knows you’re coming, and he’s fine with it.” You nodded, your heartbeat calming slightly. But then you paused.

“Wait, what did you just call me?”

Din chuckled once more. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. It’s just what the others call you. One of the clan members saw you with a flower crown one day, and so the children began to call you Sarad’ika. It means little flower.”

Nodding a little distractedly, you watched as Din opened the door. The covert had a nickname for you? You could count on one hand the number of times you’d met a Mandalorian, so you were a little shocked to learn they all seemed to know who you were.

As you followed him into what turned out to be a large circular room, your eyes widened in shock. Near the ceiling, natural light streamed in, basking the weathered walls in warm sunlight. There was a large common area in the middle of the room, with tables and chairs and rugs of all shapes and sizes. There were multiple doors lining the walls, some open, some shut. Din led you into the middle of the room, towards a small group sitting on one of the rugs. When one of the beings turned, you could see that it was a child, no older than Atleah or Eddarth, wearing a beskar helmet. You heard the gasp as the child saw you, and you were suddenly surrounded on all sides by children, not unlike this morning in the village.

“Sarad’ika! Sarad’ika!” The children chanted as they surrounded you. One child tugs on your hand, leading you towards the rug they’d just vacated, pulling you down to sit with them, and the one adult Mandalorian, who had stayed seated. The children are wearing clothes similar to the children from your village, which makes sense you suppose. But the adult Mandalorian isn’t wearing full beskar, like Din is. She has her helmet on, but she’s wearing a pair of leather trousers and a soft-looking tunic, with her arms completely bare all the way up to her shoulders. She has tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin, thick black lines in sharp patterns that stand out against her bronze skin. She nods to you as you sit, and you think you hear her chuckle when one of the children plops down in your lap.

You feel the air rush out of your lungs as the child falls into your lap–sweet heavens the child is bigger than they think they are–but you hide it well. The helmet tilts up at you, and the sweet, innocent voice that floats out is only slightly marred by the vocoder.

“Sarad’ika, did you bring the toys? Din said he was gonna ask!”

Even though you can’t see his face, you can imagine the expression on it clear as day, pleading, bright-eyed and hopeful. You tap your chin thoughtfully, and look around at the other children all waiting eagerly. “Perhaps. But I can’t just give toys out for free you know. They’re going to cost something.” Your words don’t deter the children at all, if anything they seem even more eager.

“How much?”

The question comes from a little girl to your left, her small hands resting gently on your thigh. You smile. These children are no different from the others you’re used to. It’s nice to know childish innocence and wonder are universal.

“Oh, you can’t buy these toys with just any money.” You lean in conspiratorially, and the children are captivated. “I like to deal in secrets.” You can tell the children are confused, so you continue, your voice low. “In order to buy one of my toys, you must first tell me a secret about yourselves. Something no one else knows.”

There are gasps all around, and you can tell they’re excited. “I’ll go first, so you know how it goes,” you offer, and the children shuffle even closer. “Sometimes, when my Papá is asleep, I’ll get up and dance around the kitchen and pretend I’m a queen in a fancy dress at a grand party!”

There’s giggles all around and the children begin to tell you their ‘secrets’ one by one. Braan, the little boy in your lap, likes to draw the constellations from memory. Tehra, the little girl on your left, likes to use sticks as staffs and pretend she’s battling invading armies. Quantra and Quentyan, twins, like to sneak to the kitchens some nights and try to wheedle snacks out of the cooks–which only works every other day or so, they inform you–to bring back to their friends. Cleolyta likes to design different styles of armor, and Nekhan loves to balance different and oddly shaped rocks to make the tallest–and coolest looking–towers.

As the children tell you their ‘secrets’ you pull toys from your satchel, allowing the children to take the ones that draw their attention. Within just a couple of minutes, each of the children are holding wooden toys carved by your Papá’s hand. They’ve quickly become distracted by the toys, and most all of the children move off a little ways to begin playing.

“Secrets are an interesting form of payment.”

You look up at the Mandalorian who spoke to you, seeing the woman with tattooed arms has moved closer, and is now sitting directly across from you. It’s hard, you realize, having a conversation with someone when you can’t see their face. It’s difficult to judge emotions, and you hadn’t realized just how much you relied on facial tics and expressions until now.

She continues, since you haven’t responded. “Do you normally deal in non-traditional forms of currency?”

“Only with the children.” You’re making a conscious effort to not fiddle with your apron, to not show your nervousness. “Tourists and visitors from other villages have to pay in coin.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “Not all of the children in my village have the spare coin to be able to purchase frivolous things such as toys. By bartering with secrets, they are still able to receive toys, without feeling as though they’re just being given handouts.”

“Hmm.”

The Mandalorian is silent for a moment, before she speaks again. “I never thought I’d see the day we allowed an aruetti into our covert. Many of the others were against allowing you to come. They can’t go against the Clan Leader directly, but they weren’t exactly subtle about their displeasure.”

You don’t know what aruetti means, but you can guess it’s not something nice. Din had told you not to worry, that their Clan Leader had given permission for you to be here, but if everyone else didn’t want you here, it would probably be best if you just left–

“Not me though. It’s nice to meet someone outside the covert. I’m Jeyenha, Jeyenha Torrva, but everyone calls me Jeye.”

Your eyes flick up to stare at the visor in front of you, before falling to the outstretched hand. You cautiously place your hand into hers, unsurprised at the firmness of her handshake. Her sudden mood shift is a little startling, but you don’t have any other choice than to run with it.

You offer your own name back, and the two of you sit once more in silence, observing the children playing around you. It’s enjoyable, watching them play so eagerly with your father’s little wooden creations that you’re once again surprised when Jeye speaks.

“Your wrist. What happened?”

Her helmet is tilted down, focused on your hands, which are folded in your lap. You look down, unsurprised to see how dark the bruise has already gotten, the individual finger marks clearly visible. You wince, already wondering how you’re going to hide this from your father.

“Some shabuir in her village doesn’t understand the word no, apparently.”

There’s a quiet thunk as Din sits down next to the two of you. Even sitting, his armor makes him look huge, almost to the point of being comical.

“What?” Jeye’s voice was a low hiss, emphasized strongly by her vocoder. “Someone in your village did this?”

You nodded slowly, surprised at the venom in her voice. “There’s a man in my village who’s determined to make me his wife, and he doesn’t care that I don’t wish to marry him.”

Din scoffs. “Saying he doesn’t care about your wishes is an understatement. He acted like he could force you into marriage, like he would do so even without your father’s blessing.”

When you don’t say anything, Din falls silent. Jeye leans forward, placing her hand on your knee.

“Sarad’ika–”

Din barely finishes saying your nickname when you look up, tears in your eyes. “He could. Gallan is one of the richest men in the village. The villagers don’t respect me, and they only barely tolerate my father because he’s a decent medic. Soon Gallan’s going to tire of hearing no, and there’s not one person in my village who would be willing to try and stand up to him.” You brush roughly at your tears, laughing bitterly. “They’ll likely drag me to the altar themselves, all while saying it’s such a blessing that Gallan would even pay attention to me.”

Din growls, the leather of his gloves creaking as his hands form into fists, and Jeye breathes a quiet “No…” at your words. You take a few steadying breaths, shaking your head.

“It’s not happened yet, and I doubt it’s going to happen soon. For right now at least, Gallan respects my father enough that he’ll wait for his blessing, although my father would likely die before doing so. The best I can do is keep my head down and try to convince him that one of the other women in the village would make a better wife.”

It’s clear that Din and Jeye don’t know what to say. You doubt that a Mandalorian woman would allow a man to speak to her the way Gallan speaks to you, and you doubt a Mandalorian man would ever try and claim a wife against her will.

“You’re welcome here,” Jeye offers suddenly, and you look at her, confused. “I’m sure Din, or Paz, or one of the others wouldn’t mind bringing you here whenever you aren’t busy in your village, and it would decrease the amount of time that mir’osik could hassle you.”

Before you can say anything, you see Din nodding solemnly. “If bringing you here every day stops him from pursuing you, then I’d be happy to do it.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, but for a different reason this time. These two wonderful people are offering you an escape, offering up the security of their home so that you might be able to feel safer. “I–I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes, Sarad’ika. Just say yes.” Din’s voice is insistent.

You find yourself nodding, before you’re struck by a stray thought. “W–Wait, would your Clan Leader be okay with this? I don’t want to impose or cause any more trouble, and–”

Jeye holds up her hand to stop your rambling, chuckling. “Don’t worry about him.” She seems to glance at Din for a moment before continuing. “I can’t imagine he’ll have any problems with you staying. But it’s getting late, you should be headed back.”

You hadn’t realized it, but as you look up at the ceiling, you see the dusky pink light indicative of the sunsets on Roon. Your Papá would be home soon, and he’d worry if you were gone for too long. Din stands, and offers you a hand, pulling you onto your feet. As you say goodbye to Jeye, you find yourself excited at the prospect of returning. You think you might have made two new friends, and you honestly feel more welcome in the Mandalorian covert than you ever did in your home village.

***

Over the course of the next few weeks, you find yourself spending hours of nearly every day in the covert. Your Papá was cautious at first, and he insisted on meeting Din, but after Din assured your Papá that you weren’t in any danger, he was more understanding. Your Papá knew how frustrating it could be for you in the village, constantly having to deal with snide insults and veiled barbs about anything from your body, to your manners, to your personality. The covert became an escape of sorts, and while you really only ever talked with Jeye, Din, and the children, it was much better than spending your time in the village.

You’d not met the Clan Leader yet, although both Din and Jeye assured you that he was fine with your presence. Din always acted strange whenever the Clan Leader was brought up, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

You also never saw Din as relaxed as Jeye, although you attributed that to the fact that he had to leave the covert to pick you up and to take you back to your home. The beskar armor seemed too heavy and cumbersome to be taken off and put back on multiple times a day.

And even though you tried to avoid it, you couldn’t deny your growing attraction to Din. Even when he wasn’t carrying you in his arms to bring you to and from the covert, he always seemed to be touching you, whether it was a hand against the small of your back, or on your thigh when you were sat next to him, or even just gently brushing against the wrist that Gallan had bruised, although the bruise had long since faded. You slowly grew accustomed to his touches, although you still felt as though your face was on fire every time he did.

You couldn’t tell if he knew what he was doing to you–damn helmet–but you assumed he could. He always seemed to touch you even more whenever you got flustered, almost as if it was a joke, or a game. One time, when he was guiding you into the covert while your eyes were blindfolded, he’d laid his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb pressing gently, but firmly, into your spine where your head met your neck. You swore you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body at his touch, and the man had the gall to ask if you were alright, all while his other fingers pressed into the skin right above your collarbone. You’d nodded jerkily, and his thumb had begun to rub soothing circles against your skin. It had felt so good, you’d almost whimpered when he removed his hand.

Despite the firm touches and the subtle flirting–because seriously, what else could it be–you managed to not make a fool of yourself, and you grew to like your new routine. Din had become a protector of sorts, and it made your insides feel light and floaty, the way you felt the first time Din flew with you. Life was good. Gallan left you alone, your Papá continued to carve toys, and for the first time ever, it felt like you’d found somewhere that you were wanted. So, of course, everything had to change.

It was about a month into your visits to the covert that this change happened. You were in the kitchen one morning when you noticed that there was a Mandalorian walking up the path to your home, but it’s not Din. You dry your hands and step outside, an anxious, gnawing feeling in your stomach telling you that something’s wrong. Din has been the one to pick you up every day, and you’re terrified something’s happened to him.

Before you can even open your mouth to voice your concerns, the Mandalorian is speaking. “Everything’s fine, Din just had some business to attend to, so he sent me.”

You cock an eyebrow, a little wary of how fast this stranger assessed your emotions, but you’re grateful nothing appears to be wrong. He stands there, silently, and you get the impression he’s waiting on you. You duck back inside the house to grab your bag, locking the door behind you. The Mando in front of you is just radiating this awkward energy, and you feel bad. You’d grown so used to Din, you didn’t really know how to react to a different Mandalorian.

“Um, so…” You trail off, grimacing at how awkward you sound. “Do I just–” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

The Mandalorian was silent for just a moment, but then he answered. “Paz.”

Your eyes widened, recognizing the name. “Oh, Din and Jeye have both mentioned you before. It’s nice to meet you.”

Paz shook his head. “Of course they did.” He chuckled. “Jeye is my wife.”

Your jaw dropped. Whenever Jeye had talked about Paz, she’d never mentioned that he was her husband. You were so going to give her shit for this.

After Paz finished laughing at you, he tied your blindfold and scooped you up in his arms, taking off into the air. The entire flight, you couldn’t help but compare Paz to Din. Paz was a good deal bigger than Din, although you weren’t entirely sure how that was possible. His arms were big and strong, like Din’s, but being carried by Paz didn’t set butterflies loose in your stomach. You tried to ignore it, but your brain refused to stop trying to compare the two men.

You were tense the entire ride to the covert, and you nearly sighed in relief when the two of you touched down. Paz set you on your feet, leading you into the cave system. He removed the blindfold when the two of you were standing in front of the main door, and he let you adjust to the lighting before he pulled the door open.

As he led you into the main room, you were surprised to see a large group of Mandalorians gathered where you usually sat with Din and Jeye. You were even more surprised when Paz suddenly stepped in front of you, his arm out slightly, keeping you behind his considerable bulk. You gently touched the back plate of his armor, silently communicating your confusion.

“Stay behind me.”

You suck in a breath, fear gripping you as you try to make yourself smaller behind Paz. You’re not sure what’s going on, and you don’t want to take any chances. You take a small measure of comfort from the fact that Paz is built like a goddamn tank, and that he could easily protect you if things turn violent, but you hope it doesn’t come to that. You can hear all the raised voices, but it takes you a moment to make out any distinguishable words, everyone is yelling too loudly.

“SHE’S A DANGER TO OUR TRIBE!”

The booming voice cuts through the others, and you barely peek around Paz’s arm to see a Mando you’d seen a couple times before–one who always seemed to be glaring at you, despite the fact that you couldn’t actually see said glare–toe to toe with another Mandalorian.

“She poses no threat to us.”

The other Mandalorian is calm, although his voice is hard with anger. With a start, you realize that this must be the Clan Leader. His chest is bare, although he’s adorned with multiple beaded necklaces. You can see a thick fur cape draped across his shoulders, but it’s his helmet that truly catches your attention. It’s made of beskar, like all the other Mando’s helmets, but attached to each side are two thick ivory horns, coming out and curving around towards his face, ending in wicked sharp points. He’s taller than nearly everyone else in the group, and his stance is commanding and powerful.

“LEAVE HER WITH HER OWN TRIBE. WE DON’T WANT HER HERE, SHE ENDANGERS US, OUR WAY OF LIFE, OUR CHILDREN–”

You squeak when the Clan Leader moves, his bare hand coming up quickly to wrap around the other Mando’s throat.

“You think I would endanger the children?” His voice is cold, emotionless. “Do you truly think so little of me? After everything I’ve done for our tribe, every battle I’ve fought, you still think you have any right to question me?” His voice isn’t rising in volume, but you can hear his mounting anger. “I am the Clan Leader. What I say goes. If you don’t like that, we can take this to The Pit.”

Paz sucks in a breath, and you’re about to ask what The Pit is when a hand lands on your arm. You whirl around, your whole body tense, but you relax somewhat when you realize it’s Jeye. Paz looks at her, and they seem to have a silent conversation before Paz nods, and Jeye takes your arm, leading you back and through one of the doorways behind you.

She gestures for you to stay quiet for a moment, before leading you into a room you’ve never been in before. There’s a fire pit in the center of the room, with separate areas sectioned off with curtains for cooking and eating. She leads you further in, around one set of curtains, and your eyes land on the large bed that dominates the space. She gestures for you to sit, and once you do, she sighs deeply.

“What was that?”

You’re ashamed at the way your voice shakes as though you’re scared, because you’re not. Not really. It was unsettling, seeing the argument, which you’ve realized by now was about you, although hearing the Clan Leader defend you so vehemently left a warm feeling in your belly.

Jeye sighs again, and begins to pace. “Some of the tribe still has reservations about you being here. We’d thought they’d gotten over it, but apparently not all of them have. Doric decided that today was a good day to confront Din about it.”

You look up at Jeye in confusion. “I didn’t see Din in there. Is he okay? What happened? Is the Clan Leader mad?” Your voice is growing more frantic, as you imagine what could have happened to him.

Jeye stops pacing, her helmet turned towards you. “Wait, what? You… you don’t know? Din never–” Jeye scoffs. “No, of course he hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?”

There’s silence.

“Jeye. Din hasn’t told me what?”

There’s more silence, and you open your mouth to repeat yourself a third time when she speaks.

“Din is the Clan Leader.”

Your mouth snaps shut, your eyes widen comically. You open and close your mouth, trying to find the words to say… something, anything about what you’re feeling in that moment, but all your traitorous brain can focus on is how heart-stoppingly attractive Din looked without his armor on.

Before you can say anything, you hear the door open. Your eyes fly to the opening in the curtains, and lo and behold, there’s Din. He pauses, clearly taken aback that Jeye is here, but he doesn’t speak. Jeye nods twice, once to you and once to Din before she brushes past him and leaves the room, not staying around to try and explain the bombshell she’s just dropped on you.

Din stands in the gap between the curtains, just staring at you. You’re trying to look at his helmet, but his current state of dress is extremely distracting. His chest is golden and tanned, marred here and there by scars of all shapes and sizes, but it doesn’t make him any less beautiful. You can’t help but notice the trail of dark hair on his abdomen, leading to his belt buckle, which prominently features a Mudhorn, the signet of his clan. He’s wearing canvas pants, tucked into a pair of sturdy boots with a fur trim, a fur trim that matches the one on his cloak. His gloves cover his arms up to the elbow, but they’re tight enough that his muscles bulge through the fabric.

You can feel your face burning as you take in the Mandalorian before you, so unlike the one you’ve gotten to know for the past few weeks. The small infatuation you'd been harboring only grows as you look at Din now. He moves into the room, and you marvel at how he can move silently, despite his size.

He stops in front of you, his gloved hand coming up to grasp gently at your chin, pulling your face up so that he can look at you. Lacing your hands together in your lap seems like the best course of action, because otherwise you might just reach out and touch him, just to see if he’s real, and you’re not sure he’d appreciate that.

Din’s thumb rests against your cheek, stroking softly as his helmet is tilted down, looking at you. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” His voice is quiet, apologetic, and you wonder how come you didn’t recognize it when he was arguing with the other Mando. “I promise, most of the tribe doesn’t feel that way.”

You grin, or at least, you try to. “So, when you kept saying that the Clan Leader was fine with me coming here–”

Din nods. “Truly, I am more than fine with you coming to the covert every day.”

You snort, your own hand coming up to rest against Din’s, which has moved to cradle your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You turn your face into Din’s palm, placing a gentle kiss against the warm leather. You hear his sharp intake of breath through the vocoder, so you do it again.

“I–I didn’t want you to treat me differently,” he offers, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. He was standing so close, and now that you’re standing, you’re practically chest to chest. “I wanted to get to know you, without you feeling… obligated to treat me like a leader.”

“Why me?”

The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You look down, your hands absentmindedly fiddling with the worn fabric of your apron.

Din’s hand reaches out and gently grasps yours, and you can’t help but notice that his hand can easily encompass both of yours. He curls his fingers under your chin, bringing your eyes back up, forcing you to look into his visor.

“You’re so strong, Sarad’ika.” His hand slid from underneath your chin, his palm moving to cup the side of your neck, his thumb gently resting against your beating pulse. “When I saw you arguing with that shabuir in the village, even though he could easily overpower you, you weren’t afraid.”

The intensity in his voice is doing funny things to your stomach, the feeling of butterflies increasing in strength so much so that you’re worried if you open your mouth they might escape. Your skin tingles where his hands are touching you, and you’ve never felt this before, with anyone.

“I–I’m sorry that my presence has caused trouble–” You quickly plow on, stopping Din from brushing aside your apology. “I know you said it’s okay, and that you’re fine with me here, but I know not everyone feels that way, and I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

He sighs, and it’s very hard to not look down and watch the way his chest rises and falls with his breathing. He moves his hand so that he can intertwine his fingers with yours, bringing your combined hands up to rest on his chest, directly over his heart. You suck in a breath, and his thumb gently presses against your pulse point, slowly dragging back and forth over your skin in a soothing motion.

“I don’t care what they think, Sarad’ika. They know I would not needlessly endanger the tribe, for them to even suggest such a thing is unacceptable. There will always be those who do not like me, but they are few, and their voices are not as loud as it would seem.” Din gently leans his head down, careful of his horns, and rests his helmet against your brow. “I informed the tribe of my intentions. They will not dare to protest your appearance here, not now.”

Your brow furrows in confusion, although you are enjoying having Din so close. “What are your intentions, Din?”

He chuckles softly, and you can feel it reverberating through his chest. “Is it not obvious, Sarad’ika? You’ve come to mean so much to me over these past few weeks, and I will confess that I do not want to let you go.”

Your heart is racing at his words, and you feel unsteady on your feet, similar to how you felt after your first time flying.

“I know that Jeye has explained how our tribe works, and that the Clan Leader is held responsible for the continuation of the tribe.” You make a small noise of agreement, and wait for him to finish. “In times of peace, it is… customary, that the Clan Leader takes a riduur, a spouse.” Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen.

“Sarad’ika, know that I am not asking this of you lightly. I understand that you may wish to say no, and that is your choice, and I will respect you no matter your decision.” Your breathing is shallow, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re not sure you’re going to survive the next words to come out of Din’s mouth.

“But if you’ll have me… I would take you as my wife.”

#Mandalorian #Din x reader #clan leader!din #Din Djarin #Reader #reader fic #fic #masterlist #no use of Y/N #inspired by Beauty and the Beast #fanfic #multi-chapter fic #chapter 1

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poormeowmeowcollector · 4 years ago

Text

First Kiss, But Not On The Lips

Pair: Tony/ace!Loki (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of insomnia, nightmares, panic attack, isolation and alcohol.

Notes: Basically, the idiots in love trope is my favourite. Tony is a bi mess, Loki doesn't care about a thing (or cares about too many things), Thor is a himbo and Steve is trying. Also, yes, Loki has the ace ring (and a pride flag in his room) and he legally cannot sit like a normal person. And Steve lost the bet because he didn't expect Tony to find out about his crush on Loki within a month.

Read on AO3

"You know what, I get it. We all deserve second chances and blah blah blah, but can't Loki redeem his name on another solar system? What about Jötunnheim? He did a genocide there too!" Tony argues. At least he moves past the redeem part.

"I told you they would not accept me," Loki sighs at Thor, trying to appear stoic. But Tony sees the disappointment in him. Because he knows how to spot it in the mirror.

"Fine, he can stay for a month as a testing period. But if he causes trouble, he's gone," Steve decides. He loves speaking out the decisions even though no one will disagree.

And Thor smiles widely and hugs his brother. But Tony can still see the disappointment in Loki.

~~~

Sleeping is hard while knowing he's in the same building. Tony expected it, but it's still annoying.

"You know he was a victim too, why are you so afraid?" He asks himself but no answer is given.

He knows he won't be able to sleep, and there is a broken suit waiting for him in the lab.

Well, if he's about to pull an all nighter, he better be productive.

~~~

Tony had gotten his all nighter on a schedule. He would wait until Steve is asleep, go to the lab, and return to his bed only one hour before Steve wakes up. Of course and they all noticed his dark circles and moodiness, but he would blame nightmares and get away with it. Not that he was lying.

And, apparently, Tony is not the only one with sleeping issues.

Thor was claiming that Gods don't need sleep or nutrition. But Thor is also a sleeper and eats every time like it's his last time. But Loki doesn't. He barely touches whatever food is placed in front of him or drinks a little water and he looks more sleep deprived than Tony. But no one has the guts to say to a thousand years old powerful cranky god to go sleep or to eat, not even Thor.

And he doesn't talk. It's been days since his voice was heard. Thor doesn't like it, but the few times he mentioned it or tried to get Loki to speak or take part in a talk, he only got a glare. And Tony still doesn't know how Thor still makes Loki even get out of his room.

~~~

Once again, Tony is working on a new suit, during his favourite inhuman hours. Because two things come out at 3am, the devil and Tony Stark.

But the first dude is not helping Tony with the non functioning leg that's driving him insane.

"It's not going to work," Someone comments from the lab's door. Who the hell is up that late?

"Excuse me?" Tony turns around, only to face Loki leaning against the door frame.

"Remaking the joint to resemble a human's is not going to work. You need less strength and more flexibility, probably even another material," Loki explains, staring at Tony. He makes a small nod. Loki then straightens himself and walks closer.

"You know about mechanical engineering?" Tony asks.

"Science, magic, it's all the same on Asgard… and I happen to be the Master of Magic, and therefore…" He trails off, something sad blooming in his eyes. Homesickness, Tony recognises with ease.

"Alright, so, how do you think we'll make it work?" Tony asks, a grin on his face. But instead of answering, Loki just lifts his sleeves and grabs a wrench.

Tony watches as Loki plays with the machine—he looks more like he plays than like he's repairing something—and uses his magic to change the elements on the materials, green glows appearing and disappearing. And, after the five minutes it took him, the leg is perfect.

"Wow…" Tony whistles. Loki grins and sits on the working table, spinning the wrench on his fingers.

"It will probably last for a millennium or two," He shrugs, like it's something easy. And Tony is more impressed.

And they go on with the suit, finishing it before it's time for Tony to go and pretend he's sleeping. And Tony would use this time.

"Well, I didn't know you're good at engineering," Tony trails off. Loki shrugs in response, again sitting on the table with his legs in lotus position.

"You never asked,"

"Yeah, sorry about that. You are just too…" He suddenly can't find the word.

"Cold?" Loki asks, raising his eyebrows at Tony.

"Reserved is how I would phrase it, actually," Tony responds, making Loki hum.

"You know what, nevermind. I'm asking now. What do you like? What don't you like? Just rumble about things," He decides, big brown eyes staring at Loki. And he responds with another shrug.

"I don't know… it is quite late, so I'll probably head to my bed. Good morning, Stark," He jumps up and leaves, before Tony can even think of stopping him.

Right, he's just waiting for people to ask…

"So… Do you remember the rumble offer? Cause it still stands," Tony eyes Loki. And Loki responds with a smile.

~~~

The next morning, Loki didn't appear. Thor explained that he crashed on the bed. And it must be the hell of a sleep because he got out of his room three days after. Again, while Tony was working on a suit.

"Hey, wanna help?" Tony yells at Loki as he walks outside of the lab. And Loki nods a yes and gets to work.

"Still not sleeping, Stark?" He asks, his smart eyes pinned on the helmet of the suit.

"No rest for the wicked," Tony smiles. Looks like he's more talkative now that he's fresh.

"Tell me about it…" He sighs. Then, he grunts a bit, probably gotten hit by some remaining electricity.

Tony hadn't noticed before how pretty Loki's smile is.

And Loki takes the opportunity and starts to talk. Tony learns a lot about Loki during the Great Rumble. Dandelions are his favourite flowers, thanks to the Æsir library he became an encyclopaedia of random fun facts (even took it far enough to share some), he's a cat person, he loves classical music or music without lyrics, and then he starts sharing some stories of him and Thor as kids.

But Tony notices other things too. He noticed that Loki's eyes seem to glow when he talks about things that make him happy, he moves his hands around, he has this cute little smile that makes his face shine. And when he talks fast, his Nordic accent slips out—just some trilled 'r's or some harder sounds—and he also has a stutter that slips out. And Tony finds all of those so beautiful, but he can't say it.

"Your turn," Loki says. And Tony freezes.

Because his mind is nothing but simping for Loki, right now.

"I… em… Ya know, I…" He mutters, trying to think of something. But, Goddamnit, those shining green eyes pinning on him and waiting are so distracting.

"I'm actually bisexual, but more attracted to women than men," He snaps, finally finding something. But what if Asgard is not so accepting? Earth is having issues with those things and those guys live in the middle ages.

"Oh, nice," Loki shrugs after noticing Tony's brief pause. And it's enough to relax Tony.

"And… Dammit, this is so hard… I like cheeseburgers?" He squirts. "I don't know, can't think of something right now… when something pops up, I'll let you know," He gives up and rubs his nose bridge.

"No worries, you're hot anyways,"

Loki grins after seeing how red Tony's face became. And Tony clears his throat in hope of containing himself somehow.

"Alrighty… How's the helmet going? Tony moves the subject away. He sees Loki short-circuiting for a long moment, before remembering what they are doing here and grabbing back the helmet.

"It won't let me fix it… whenever I try to do something to the source of the issue, I get striked," He answers.

"Have you tried plastic gloves?" Tony asks, not even looking up from the hand he's oiling.

"For the helmet?" Loki asks, his eyebrows furrowed at Tony.

"For your hands, you idiot!" Tony screams, his head snapping heavenwards. Why did he agree on this?

"Fine, fine… Norns, dauðlegir eru svo stuttir í skapi... —Norns, Mortals are so short tempered…" Loki mutters under his breath.

"You know JARVIS can translate from Old Norse to English, right?" Tony snaps.

Loki shrugs and leaps into the working table and walks across it with three big steps, jumping back down with grace and opening shelves to find the gloves.

"They won't fit," He yells at Tony.

"Whatcha mean they won't fit?" Tony yells back.

Loki jumps on the table again and ends right behind Tony.

"I mean, they won't fit. They're too small," He answers to Tony's ear. Tony has learned how much Loki loved climbing on furniture, so he just turns around instead of jumping around and cussing at the God.

"Come on… how big are your hands?" He asks. Loki grabs Tony's hand and places his palm against his own. Tony's fingers were beginning on Loki's second joints, his fingers long and thin. And Tony licks his lips, because he knows what big hands mean…

Stop being horny over deities, you idiot! It didn't end well with Jesus and it won't end well with this one too! The, usually silent, voice of reason reminds him.

"Maybe you can magic them into fitting…" He suggests. Loki nods and stretches the left glove with his right hand, a green light making it bigger as he slides his hand inside.

"Thank you, Stark…" He smiles and climbs back on the table, eyes pinned on the helmet as he's playing with the screwdriver. It's been two weeks since he came here, and he still uses only last names. But when Clint called him Odinson, Thor, Steve and the Hulk had to physically hold Loki from snapping the archer's neck. And no one dares to call him Laufeyson or even think about it.

"Hey," Tony snaps. Loki flinches at the sudden noise but composes himself right after. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya," Tony apologizes.

"It's fine… What do you want to ask?" Loki shrugs one shoulder, placing the helmet on his right and the screwdriver on his left.

"Why do you call everyone by their last name but don't want to be addressed as so?" He asks.

"I'm not anyone's friend, and first names feel too familiar for such a situation. And, I won't stay for a long time…" He answers, the livid glow in his eyes fading just so.

"And, your last name?"

"I don't have one…" He whispers, with what Tony recognises as shame in his voice. Tony frowns and walks closer, staying outside of Loki's personal space.

"But you're Thor's brother and he's an Odinson," He studied his words before speaking. The last thing he wants is to trigger Loki, even as an accident.

"On Asgard and Jötenheim, last names work differently. You choose the name of the parent who you are closest to and then add the -son, -dottir or -barn. But Odin and Laufey were not close at all, and Frigga could help but she chose to keep me at arm's reach. So, no last name…" Tony can see how Loki was trying hard not to show emotions, but he is so close to breaking.

"You know, with this logic, only Thor has a last name. Don't tell Steve, but Howard was a first class terrible father. Steve's dad abandoned him and his mother, after beating the poor woman. Clint's parents made him run away and go to the circus. Natasha was given her name in the Red Room, she doesn't know who her parents are. And Bruce's was violent too. The only people with decent parents are Thor and JARVIS." Tony should move the topic away, but he didn't. At least he tries to patch it up on the last bit.

"And Dum-E," Loki adds, with a barely visible smile. A fake one. Tony hears the robot's joints moving as he lifts his upper part.

"And Dum-E," Tony agrees with a smile, and the robot makes a few happy noises. Loki laughs.

"You know, he says he loves you," He turns to Tony.

"If that's so, he earned some nice oil," Tony grabs the oil and applies some to Dum-E's joint. It doesn't stop making those mechanic noises and when Tony is over, Loki's smiling at him from the table.

"He still says he loves me, right?" Tony asks. Loki makes a slight nod, not abandoning his small smile.

"And that you are the best dad," He adds. Tony laughs and pets Dum-E before heading back to the table. But he still won't get too close to Loki, he is very strict with his personal space.

Loki grabs back the helmet and starts poking it around with the tool, now ignoring Tony.

"So, you don't feel like talking, huh?" Tony asks.

"If you mean the topic you want to talk about, then no," Loki snaps, not raising his eyes. Tony nods, he knows better than invading Loki's personal space.

And Loki didn't open his mouth for the rest of the night. The next morning, he would pretend nothing happened, but Tony would see how something changed in him. How his eyes darkened and his face became colder.

~~~

The next night, Loki is even more grumpy. So, Tony avoids speaking, or making anything that has even the slightest chance to irritate him.

"You're scared of me…" Loki finally speaks, his voice soft like a whisper and his fingers playing with the black ring on his ring finger. Tony looks up from the metal glove he's making to stare at Loki.

"Should I be scared?" Tony asks, careful not to say the wrong words.

"You are too picky about what you do around me. Why not do that if not because you are scared?" He answers. And this is where Tony lets himself frown and talks without thinking.

"Maybe because I don't want to make you feel bad?" He lets his words come out without filters. And Loki raises his eyebrow at it.

"Well, you don't lie about it. But why are you so dedicated to this?" He narrows his eyes and crosses his hands, body leaning towards Tony.

And now, he can't answer. Why does he care so much? It's not that they're old friends like with Rhodey or ex-s but still friends like with Pepper. They're not even teammates. Loki said it himself, he will leave after the one month Steve gave him.

So, why does Tony care so much?

"Hmm, nice answer…" Loki snarls and looks away, playing again with the other hand of the suit.

"You're a cold son of a whore, you know that?" Tony spits, his eyes stabbing Loki. He now raises his glare again, but he looks more confused than before.

"I beg your pardon?" He blinks.

"I try to be decent towards you, okay? The reasons behind it don't matter. Could be fear, guilt, interest, it means jack. And you question me on how I dare be decent towards you and why and what I want from you! You know what, I have a question for you. Why can't you accept being treated as a normal person? Are you that messed up in the brain or you just love so much being alone and miserable?" Tony lets his thoughts come out as they are, not giving a care how much they will hurt Loki. But the moment he sees Loki's reaction, he regrets it.

The room gets cold enough for Tony to see his breathing. Loki leaves the tools and the metal hand beside him and locks his feet on a tight fatal position, his hands on his face and pulling some hair with enough strength to pull them out and his shoulders rising and falling too fast.

And Tony knows what this means… It means he messed up badly.

"Crap! Hey, buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things…" He sprints closer. Loki raises his hand towards him, a green glow erupting from it and sending Tony flying to the other side of the lab.

Loki mutters something to this in Old Norse, before jumping up and leaving, his feet shaking as he was trying to walk towards the exit. But he manages to vanish in the dark corridor anyways.

And this time, Tony definitely messed up the worst way possible.

~~~

For the next two weeks, Loki doesn't get out of his room. And it only makes the knot in Tony's stomach grow tighter. He asks Thor all the time how Loki is, if he eats, if he sleeps, if he needs something. It's a wonder Thor hasn't grown tired of the constant questioning. And the answer is always the same, "I don't know, he won't let me in,".

And if everyone on the tower has learned something about Loki, is that things are bad when he keeps Thor at arm's length.

Tony wants to go and check on Loki himself, but he bets his right hand that Loki will spit curses at him, and he has every right to do so. So, he has to settle down on annoying Thor and worrying with him.

"You know what? It's my fault," Tony admits to Thor the night before Loki leaves. And Thor furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

Tony explains everything that happened that night, and Thor smiles with sympathy and touches Tony's neck.

"You were right on your words, that's why Loki reacted like this. He doesn't want people to know too much about him… But he won't be mad at you." He answers.

"But, why do I care so much? We barely know each other…" Tony asks.

"Have you thought of love?" Thor suggest. Tony is about to smack Thor for saying something like this, but it makes sense.

"Do… you don't happen to know if he's queer, right?" Tony makes the big question.

"I know very few Æsir who are not your definition of queer, but Loki was never open about those things. You better ask him…" He shrugs.

Well, Thor has a point. But Tony can't exactly ask Loki what his sexuality is while he's like this. So, he better wait till it's time.

"Thank you, Point Break…" Tony pats Thor's back. And then, JARVIS yells at them that Steve wants everyone in the central room.

And there is everyone here, even Loki. Well, an emotionally drained and mentally exhausted Loki, but he's there.

"As you know, your month has passed…" Steve begins talking, his Captain Voice on. Loki nods and lowers his shoulders to appear smaller.

"I'll be on my way, then…" He mutters, voice low and breaking. Steve wants to smile, but Loki's reaction stops him.

"So, you don't want to be an Avenger?" He lets his Captain mask fall, eyeing Loki with worry. And every single one of the Avengers is now doing the same. Tony hadn't realised that this antisocial emo little God had become so popular.

Loki lets his lips make a smile so big Tony bets it hurts like hell.

"You mean I can stay?" He asks, his voice now louder and livid.

"Can't see a reason to kick you out," Steve smiles too.

And Loki drags him to a hug tight enough to break the poor soldier in half, smiling like a sunbeam and rumbling thank you again and again.

"Alright, can you let me breathe?" Steve wheezes. Loki makes a small oh sound and lets go of the hug.

"Sorry, Steve," He hums, not breaking eye contact.

"Steve? Where's the "Rogers"?" Clint asks, his eyebrows raised and his hands signing along even though he wears his hearing aids.

"Well, since I'm about to stay, there's no point in calling you with your last names, is there?" Loki shrugs.

"Alright, you know what we need? A party. Who's with me?" Tony claps his hands and yells, glad to see everyone agreeing.

~~~

Apparently, being an alien God makes you hold your liquor a lot. Tony knew about Steve, but he didn't expect those two to have this stamina as well.

But Thor has started losing his balance and yelling at everyone how much he loves them in Old Norse and Loki's accent and stutter are showing, but he is just sitting on the bar and watching over the chaos.

This is your chance. He's happy and drunk enough, what could possibly go wrong? Tony thinks and stumbles towards Loki before he sits on a tall stool.

"So, are you having fun?" He asks, smiling at Loki and sipping on his scotch. It's fine, he's done this countless times before and he can do it now.

"It's quite nice, yes…" Loki hums, now turning to face Tony.

"And, em… Sorry about the other night… It was too much, should have been midler on ya," Tony mumbles, trying not to lower his eyes and break eye contact. Loki makes a soft nod.

"It's fine, you don't have to apologize… And you were quite right about some things…" He gives Tony a small smile as he talks, making him relax his shoulders a bit a mouth a thank you.

"And I wanna tell you something… I also talked to Thor about it… And I think… No, I'm pretty sure I have a crush on you. And, that's why the care and stuff…" Tony rumbles, his eyes big as he searches for reaction. But Loki stays untouched.

"I am… flattered… But I'm also asexual," He breathes out, staring back at Tony for a reaction.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't want to make it uncomfortable…" Tony rushes to apologize. Couldn't he see the black wedding ring? It's a symbol of asexuality!

"You know, things can work out platonically. I mean, you do start to grow on me…" Loki responds, smiling just a bit.

"Really? I mean, you don't mind?" Tony grins at the response, his eyes big at the God. Loki shrugs.

"Yeah, If you are okay with not getting laid with me…"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Tony gives Loki an ear to ear smile and grabs his right hand, kissing gently the black ring.

Loki's cheeks and ears get bright red and he bites his lower lip. Tony is quick to let go of his hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable…" He chunters, now lowering his glare and playing with his glass.

"It was… nice…" Loki whispers, most likely to himself. But Tony still snaps his head up.

"Seriously?"

"Yes… And…" The red blush appears back in his cheeks as he fidgets with his sleeves. "It was the first time someone kissed me…"

"No way!" Tony exhales.

"I know, embarrassing…" Loki bites his lip again, breaking eye contact.

"I'm actually honoured. Not a lot of humans had the chance to steal the first kiss of a God, you know," Tony grins, hoping the joke is not that bad.

Loki reacts with a snorting sound and a light punch on the ribs, that sends Tony straight to the floor and makes the glass scatter in pieces.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?!" Loki squirts at Tony.

"I think I need a safeword…" Tony grunts.

He is sure that Loki will grimace on the joke, but instead, he giggles like a highschool girl.

"Most definitely yeah," He sighs, handing over an identical glass with the one they broke.

From the back of the room, no one sees Thor laughing as Steve sighs at the view of Loki and Tony and handing over the twenty dollars of the bet.

#Marvel fanfic #one shot #tony/loki #ace!Loki #fluff #marvel fluff #marvellousaces #maholidaybingo2020 #marvel fandom

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survivingthejungle · 5 years ago

Text

everybody wants to rule the world (caliban)

When Sabrina was 8 years old, her life got a little more unusual. Being a half witch raised by her two aunts and cousin (all full-blooded witches) in a mortuary was not a common experience for most children. But things became different when another cousin, from her mother's side of the family, came to live in the Spellman house. Her mother, Diana, had a brother, William; WIlliam married and had a daughter just two years before Sabrina was born. She was named Genevieve Sawyer, and she and her paternal cousin had been very close to one another their entire lives. When it was heard that William had been shot and that Genevieve's mother was not fit to parent, the girl's cousin and family immediately stepped up to take her in and be her legal guardians.

Despite Genevieve's unfortunate circumstances, she never lost her bright personality or kindness. She seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in the Spellman house from time to time, but it was a welcome change of pace for everyone who lived there. For the next eight years after she had gone to live with her cousins and aunts, she had grown into a compassionate, driven young lady. Growing with her were several pets she had acquired over the years. Genevieve had a special love for animals and so had adopted many. She had a spotted turtle named Tucker, whom she had rescued from getting run over by a truck one morning. She also had an orange tabby cat named Tex, a green budgie named Pico, and a blue pit bull terrier named Bambi. The latest addition to the family was an albino ball python, whom she was currently in the process of naming.

"Genevieve. I mean it this time," scolded her aunt Zelda. "No more pets. You have barely enough space for them all, and I won't allow any more of this."

"No more, aunt Zelda. I got it. This guy is the last," she affirmed, gesturing with the snake which was slithering over her shoulders and down her left arm. Her aunt shuddered.

"How you can allow that thing near you is beyond me."

"She's sweet!" she defended. "She's just curious."

"She stays in your room only. If I see a snake slithering about my house I won't hesitate to kill it."

"She won't go anywhere. Promise."

Once her aunt had finished scolding her and left her room, she turned her attention back to her new friend. "What do we call you, huh?" Genevieve said. She set the snake down on her bed and flipped on her record player against the wall to fill the silence, and an old Fleetwood Mac album started spinning. "Well," she said, "I have to take Bambi and Tex on a walk, so I guess we should put you in your tank, huh?" She moved the young albino to the mostly empty tank and placed the lid over it, promising, "I'll get you some decorations while I'm out." Then she put on a pair of socks, laced up her shoes, and grabbed two harnesses and leashes from the footboard of her bed, heading downstairs to find the only two of her pets that were mammals. "Morning, aunt Hilda," she greeted the small blonde woman.

"Oh, g'morning my love! Are you taking Tex and Bambi on a walk?"

"Yeah, once I find 'em." "Well you'll eat first, won't you?" She pointed to the table. "Some toast for you."

"You're the best," Genevieve said, sitting down to take a bite of it. The toast was covered with peanut butter and sliced bananas; simple, but a favorite of the girl's. She finished eating quickly and was off again in search of her cat and dog, finding them in the family room. Tex was lounging on the couch and Bambi had seemingly been banished by him, staring at the tabby from the ground. "You wanna go on a walk?" she said to them both, her voice increasing by about an octave. Bambi's ears perked up and her eyes widened; Tex hopped down from the couch and over to circle Genevieve's legs. "Hey auntie," she called into the kitchen, "Do you know where Beans went?"

"Yes," her aunt called back, "I believe she went to go see Harvey, Roz, and Theo?"

"Okay. Thank you!" She then strapped both of the harnesses onto Tex and Bambi and put them on their leashes, and then made their way outside to their usual walking route. About halfway through their walk she and her two companions made a detour to go to Harvey's garage, where Genevieve had guessed their band would be practicing and where her cousin had gone to find them. Heading around behind his house, she found the garage door unlocked and entered in to find the four of them seemingly discussing something important.

"'Vieve," Sabrina greeted as soon as she saw her cousin. "What's up?"

"I was walking Tex and Bambi," she responded, holding up the two leashes attached to both animals. "What's up with you?"

"Sabrina's trying to take us to Hell," Theo told her.

Genevieve's eyebrows raised and she went to take a seat on the couch closest to her. "Why?" she asked Sabrina.

"Nick." She said his name sadly; she knew her cousin missed him a lot and felt guiltier every day she left him trapped there. "I think I found a way to get him out."

"But, like… He's still…" Genevieve trailed off, not knowing how to formulate her thoughts exactly.

"Yes," she responded, knowing what the girl was getting at. "A flesh Acheron. But I might have a solution for that too."

—

Sabrina had brought the five of them through Dorian's portal to Hell with an incantation, where they landed on a cold, dark beach, coughing up the salt water that had gotten into their lungs. "Wait, so… Hell is a beach?" Harvey asked.

"The Shores of Sorrow," Sabrina whispered hauntingly.

Theo stood up and pointed out at the water. "Guys. Look. What are those?" There were tall wooden structures standing above the waves, and from them came pained groans and wails. Hands were reaching out, desperate to grab whatever would come close to them.

"They're the souls of the damned," called a deep, unfamiliar voice. The group turned their heads to look for the source, and saw a large sandcastle and someone walking out from behind it. He had blond hair and was wearing a flowing white shirt that he had left unbuttoned. "They drown as the tide rolls in. Over, and over," he said, looking out at them, "For all eternity."

"Bummer," Genevieve whispered to Roz.

"Hi," Sabrina greeted him as the group approached him. "We're looking for Lilith." He didn't respond. "Uh, Madame Satan? S-Queen of Hell?" The boy looked pointedly at her, on the verge of a smirk. "She's in Pandemonium, if you happen to know the way." He turned his head and pointed left. Sharp jaw, Genevieve thought.

"All blood flows to Pandemonium." Sure enough, there was a large rock through which blood was flowing, that seemed to turn into a path further up the beach. "Follow the blood-red road where it flows, and there you'll find the throne of Hell," he instructed, still pointing.

"Thanks," Sabrina said. He pushed his hair back from the wind blowing on the beach, smirk still present. What does he know that we don't? her cousin wondered. "And you are?"

He seemed as if he were about to respond, but decided against it. "Never step off the road," he advised. He looked at their feet then. "It's clever you're wearing dead men's shoes. Though… any demon worth his salt can smell mortal flesh a mile away."

Genevieve's brows furrowed. "Ew." The boy glanced at her and then turned back to his project.

"Come on," Sabrina said, "Let's go." The four trailed behind her, but Genevieve stayed still for a moment. "Hey! I like your sandcastle," she called to the boy. He looked back at her, intrigued. "Bye!" she waved. He lifted a hand in return, and she was on her way.

—

The journey through hell had been… adventurous, to say the least. Between the field of crucified people beating eaten by crows, to the forest with a magical flower and a bloodthirsty tin man, to a horrific mock-high school classroom, Genevieve and the others were exhausted, scared, and ready to go back to earth. After being rescued by Lilith's helper, a man dressed in a bellhop's outfit and being seated at some hellish feast, she and Sabrina began a conversation about getting Nick out of Hell and taking care of Theo's uncle's soul as well. The Infernal Kings weren't recognizing Lilith's newfound authority, so she struck a deal with Sabrina- the throne for her boyfriend and her friend's uncle. Sabrina, of course, agreed, and the process had begun.

—

"Infernal court, I bid you welcome," Lilith greeted from the throne. The three demonic kings stood before her in wait. "The city of Pandemonium has an honored guest. May I present to the hordes, Sabrina Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer Morningstar." Sabrina walked to stand next to the woman and looked around the throne room. "In his absence, she has come to officially declare me Queen of Hell. Isn't that right, Sabrina?"

"Yes, that's right," she told them.

"This is treason! Heresy!" the Kings protested. "Lilith is a concubine, not a queen. We do not recognize her. She was Lucifer's whore. The realms are in chaos, and the Earth, the Pit, the Heavens, the Cosmos, they all reject Lilith's claim to the throne."

"And who do you propose would rule?" she shot back.

That was the million dollar question, it seemed, because the Kings got a nefarious look in their eyes. "All hail Caliban, Prince of Hell. Molded from the clay of the Pit itself, native son of the inferno, born to restore and rule our dark domain!"

"Hello again," said the supposed Prince Caliban, in yet another open top. He maintained the smug look on his face that he was wearing at their last encounter.

"Uh, hi?" Sabrina said, mildly confused.

"What is this?" Lilith questioned. "This is salvation," he told her. "Since the Dark Lord's desertion, the Nine Circles of Hell have been breaking down. I, Caliban, will restore stability and do what Lucifer failed to do… conquer the earth. Remake it as our Tenth Circle, and enslave the tribes of mortal and witch."

Before anyone else could get a word in edgewise, Genevieve spoke up. "No? You most certainly will not!" she said. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Dude. You're… you're not even a real person." Her brow furrowed. "Someone gets one good blast with a hairdryer and what happens? You dry up and crack?"

"I'm afraid that's not how it works, darling." He stepped closer. "Though you are clever for that." Yet another smirk. Smug bastard. Closer. And closer.

She glared at him. "Thanks," she deadpanned.

"You are pretty, for a mortal," he said to her. "Maybe I'll have mercy on you." He lifted a hand to beside her face and toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen out of her braid.

"Don't touch me." She slapped his hand away, and he stepped back. Sabrina and Lilith had been whispering to each other from the moment that Caliban revealed his plan. But now, she was seemingly comatic; her eyes and Nick's were both glazed over in red and they were both catatonic. But when her senses came back and her eyes returned to normal, she had adopted a newfound confidence. "No, we won't," she said to Lilith. "I am Sabrina Morningstar," she announced to the hordes, "And that throne is mine. By blood, and by birth."

"Here we go again," Harvey muttered. Genevieve chuckled.

"Yours to give me, you mean," Lilith interjected.

"No. Mine. To claim." She sat on the throne herself, and her cousin had to admit that she looked rather regal.

"We do not accept this!" the Kings argued. "The witch lives on Earth. She cannot possibly rule Hell."

"You've obviously never been to high school."

"You are a child, not a queen," another King shot.

"I am a young woman." Right on, her cousin thought.

"You cannot fulfill your father's duties." "I can," she insisted, looking at Lilith. "With Lilith as my advisor." "What?" "Isn't that what kings and queens do when they're too young to rule?" she argued. "They appoint a…" "Regent," Lilith offered. "Yes. As a matter of fact, yes." "Then you, Lilith, are my regent."

"I dispute this." Caliban, of course.

"Okay, Dirt-Man," Genevieve said. She had begun to harbor a deeply personal sense of loathing for him, especially because of how he disrespected her cousin's authority and was a raging narcissist.

After an attempted challenge for the crown, Sabrina dismissed the court and he and his clique left Pandemonium. She and the rest of the group, along with Nick and his tongue, followed Dorian's instructions and used the flower and the incantation to return home.

—

Sabrina had royally fucked up— no pun intended. After fumbling her first soul retrieval and getting locked in an industrial freezer by her second, she was beginning to lose hope. And she was running out of time. While Lilith was out searching for the wayward queen, the clay prince decided to go on his own adventure.

—

Genevieve was occupied in her cozy, bright room when a gust of spiraling flames interrupted her peace. She had been lying in her bed, reading a book and accompanied by all of her pets (which was a rare occurrence). Pico had nestled onto Tuck's shell and they were both napping. Bambi was curled up against her side and Tex at her feet, and the new snake— whose name, she decided, was Rhiannon— was also curled at the end of the bed. "Quite the companions you've got," he spoke deeply, disturbing the silence. "You!" she said, sitting up and starting all but the python. "What are you doing in my room?" she asked, exasperated.

"Here to see you, of course," he told her, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Genevieve

was still perplexed.

"...Why?"

"You amuse me, mortal. And you've caught my eye. Your friend may be the Queen of Hell—"

"Cousin," she corrected.

"Your cousin may be Queen, but it's you who's really captured my attention."

"I… Okay," she responded, brows furrowed.

"No one's ever spoken to me as boldly as you have. Especially for a mortal. If I wanted to punish you, in fact, it would be well within my rights. Even your cousin could not do anything about it; laws in Hell differ than on Earth."

"So, what. You're here to kill me? Because I threatened your ego?" Genevieve rolled her eyes and got up, Bambi following after her. She grabbed Rhiannon and carried her over to her tank, flipping the switch for her heater and closing the lid. She then grabbed Tuck, as gently as possible to allow him to keep napping, and put him in his tank as well.

"Of course not," he chuckled. "You're much too interesting. It would be a shame for your potential to go to waste." "Potential," she said, disinterested. Walking to her door, she slipped on a pair of shoes that sat against the wall. "For?"

"For you to align with me. You may not like me much now, but I'm sure you'll grow to."

"For me… I'm sorry, what? You expect me to betray my cousin for someone who wants to literally enslave my people and take over the Earth?" He said nothing. "No!" she waved her hand at him, signaling for him to leave. "Be gone. Or... whatever you say to banish demons." She left her room and headed down the hallway and to the stairs, but Caliban was not far behind. Neither was Bambi.

She made a pit stop in the kitchen to make herself a sandwich before she left the house. "Do you think me unreasonable?" Caliban asked, leaning against the counter while she worked.

"Well, yeah. Actually I do."

He grabbed her hand before she could continue. Making sure to never break eye contact, he pleaded, "Please. Let me prove you wrong." She pulled her hand away.

"Why are you so dead set on this?" she groaned. "I said no!" A frustrated laugh left her lips.

"I'll make you a deal," he pressed. She returned her attention to her sandwich and refused to look at him. "Submit to me, and I will abandon my plan to enslave the tribes of Earth." Still, silence. Genevieve pretended that he wasn't even there anymore, slipping Bambi a piece of turkey in between the two of them. Once again, Caliban brought his hand up and grabbed her chin; she couldn't turn away.

"You won't get the chance," she spat. "My cousin is the Queen. Your plan will never happen." He opened his mouth to argue, but in a split second, decided against it.

"If that's truly how you feel, then I concede. But know my offer still stands." Genevieve shrugged, straight-faced, unsure how to respond.

"Will you leave now? I have somewhere to be," she told him, putting her sandwich in a baggie and walking to the kitchen table where a backpack was hanging off the back of a chair.

"Will the lady allow me to escort her?" he countered. She threw her food, a water bottle, and a sports drink into the bag as she considered it.

"Fine, I guess." She slung the backpack over her shoulder before kneeling down to scratch and kiss Bambi's head. "Bye, Bambi!" she said, her voice having gone up at least an octave. The blue pit thumped her tail and opened her mouth in a typical pit bull smile. Without a word, she stood up and passed Caliban to go retrieve her sneakers which were sitting by the front door. He followed, attentive to her every move. She locked the door behind her on her way out and began walking into town.

"Where are you headed to?" he asked her.

"The gym. I coach junior high volleyball."

"Is that a mortal sport?"

"Yeah. I played for a long time."

"Why did you stop?"

Genevieve stayed silent for a beat. "When I was still in high school, a few colleges wanted to recruit me for their teams. I would have gone to any of them, but…"

"But what?" "Well, I don't really know what I want to do with my life. I didn't want to just up and leave my family with no plan. So after I graduated this spring, I decided to take a gap year to figure out what I want to do."

"Have you figured it out yet?" he asked. His tone seemed genuinely interested.

She stayed quiet for a while longer. "No," Genevieve admitted, dejectedly.

"Maybe you should work with animals," Caliban offered. "Really? Why?"

"You seem to like them enough, you've got several as pets."

"Yeah, that's fair. But I don't think I could ever be a vet," she claimed.

"Then don't. Try something else."

"Like what?"

"You're the mortal here, not me," he chuckled. "You know more about your options than I do." Genevieve let out a little laugh as well. "Think about it," he advised her.

"I will. Thank you, Caliban."

—

Sabrina didn't return home until well past midnight. As she walked through the front door and quietly closed it, her cousin broke her silence from the stairs. "Where you been, Beans?"

Sabrina nearly jumped, startled. "I was— Oh, Aunties," she muttered, finally facing all three of them.

"Well, do you care to explain yourself?" Zelda questioned. Sabrina glanced at Genevieve, who was leaning over the top of the banister and mouthed I didn't say anything.

"Oh, I'm sorry I missed your first day at the Academy," she apologized. "I had this prob-"

"How many secrets are you keeping from us?" Zelda interrupted.

Hilda piped up in typical good-cop fashion. "You didn't happen to go to Hell, bring back your father, the Dark Lord, and stick him in the bowels of the Academy without telling us, did you?"

"Putting what's left of the coven, not to mention the entire world, in grave peril, just so you can see your boyfriend."

"That's not why I did it," Sabrina argued.

"Oh, God. Here we go again," Genevieve muttered as Tex jumped up onto the bannister beside her. She gave his head an absent-minded scratch as she watched the scene unfold.

"Oh, I know why you did it. Cassius delivered a stack of books with rituals about soul transference… I thought the Dark Lord was bad. I thought he was dangerous, but Lilith preserve up from his demented, lovesick daughter."

"Aunt Zelda!" Genevieve shouted. "That was so uncalled for!"

"I couldn't just leave Nick in Hell!" Sabrina defended herself. "Every second he was down there, he was in torment. Aunties, every second he was in pain."

"We know, darling," Hilda tried to comfort.

"And it's my fault." Her cousin began to tear up with the thought of Nick's suffering. "He did it for me. I couldn't just… wash my hands of him." Hilda stepped off of the stairs and went to Sabrina to try to comfort her. "I owed it to Nick to at least try and get Lucifer out of his body and into someone else's."

Zelda had begun to abandon her condemnation of Sabrina's actions, instead demanding that she come up with a well thought-out plan. "Whose? Where do you expect to find another vessel strong enough to withstand being turned into a flesh Acheron for the Devil himself?"

In a moment of perfect timing, Ambrose and Prudence appeared in the front hallway with a raggedy, bearded man at their feet. "Aunties," he greeted. "I'm home." It was evident in his tone and lack of breath that he was exhausted. "Any chance of a cuppa?"

Genevieve went downstairs and followed her cousin and Prudence into the kitchen. 'Whatcha want, 'Bose?"

"Something to help me sleep, finally," he rasped. "Thank you, cousin." (They weren't really cousins, but it was how they had referred to each other since Genevieve had come to live with them those 8 years ago.)

"You too?" she asked Prudence. "Yes, please."

—

The next night, Sabrina returned home and immediately headed to Genevieve's room to de-stress from her arduous day. "That jerk Caliban challenged me for the throne," she sighed, laying down on Genevieve's bed. "Again. Legally, this time. And I had to accept it."

Her cousin took a deep breath. "Wow. He's really not letting it go, huh?"

"No. I wish he would, though."

"Well, what was the challenge? What do you have to do?"

"We're both supposed to search for the Unholy Regalia. It's a Hell thing," she explained at Genevieve's confusion. "The first item is Herod's Crown."

"H- King Herod? Like 'kill the babies' Herod?"

"That's the one."

"Jesus," Genevieve exhaled. "...No pun intended." She had been sitting on the floor with Rhiannon, watching as she explored the room, but stood up to sit next to her cousin. "Beans, you've got a lot on your plate right now. Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"

Sabrina considered her question for a moment. "No. Actually, I'm not sure. But I have to do this." She shut her eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again and sitting upright. "And I have so much homework on top of this."

"You know what? I don't have anything to do tonight. You go to bed, I'll do your homework tonight." Sabrina smiled softly at her cousin.

"Vieve, you don't have to do that—"

"I know. But I want to. You need to rest. Besides," Genevieve said, "I already got through all of those classes once. I can do a few assignments tonight."

—

It was about eleven o'clock that same night and Genevieve was on a productive streak- in terms of getting her cousin's homework taken care of. She had advised Sabrina to talk to Ambrose the following day about looking for the crown and, subsequently, the rest of the regalia. In the midst of her focus, a gust of heat hit her and she could sense a presence in her room. She didn't even bother to turn around from her desk. "Go away, Caliban."

"I take it you've heard about my challenge, then?"

Genevieve set her pencil down and stared at him. "Do you have any idea the shit Sabrina's been going through, lately? I know you don't care, because all you want is power, but she's an actual person with other responsibilities and an entire life that she's dealing with on a daily basis. You're made of clay and you're from Hell, I get it, you must not have any sense of empathy, but this is taking a toll on everyone. You are such a raging narcissist." Caliban's smirk had dissipated by now. "Get out of my house, Caliban. I'm busy."

"You're wrong," he said. He was uncharacteristically quiet. "I can be empathetic." He sat down on the edge of Genevieve's bed, and Tex had allowed him to pet his head. "I do have emotions."

"Showing them from time to time might do you good." He said nothing, focusing his attention entirely on Tex rather than making eye contact with Genevieve. "Why are you here?" she asked, adopting a gentler tone. She felt as if she had been hard enough on him to get her point across. "Don't you have a crown to find, or something?"

"I've not yet located it. I was wondering if you've considered my offer?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "I don't think you're gonna win. Beans may be busy, but she's smart. And talented."

"Well, she is the Dark Lord's daughter."

"Regardless. No, I haven't considered it. Is that all?"

"I hear there's a carnival in town."

Her brows furrowed momentarily. "What do you care?"

"Would it please the lady to accompany me? Tomorrow night?"

Genevieve went stiff like a deer in headlights. "Um… sure, okay. I guess?"

"You seem confused," he observed.

"Yeah, I- I am. A little. Surprised. Why do you wanna go to the carnival?"

"Is this not how mortals court each other?" he asked, standing up to lean against the desk she had been working at. He seemed his usual self again, another smirk crossing his face. "Or would you rather skip the formalities?" He winked, grinning down at her. Though she was still sitting, it was obvious that he was taller than she was.

She scoffed lightly. "Fine. I will go to the carnival with you tomorrow," Genevieve conceded. "Are you done now?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't have me spend the night?" he teased.

"Don't push it, Dirt-Man."

"As you wish," he told her, and threw his arms up, creating a vortex of fire and returning to the pits of hell.

—

Genevieve finally retired to bed at about quarter till 1 in the morning. Rhiannon was cozy in her tank and Tuck was in his; Pico was sleeping in his cage and Tex was curled up at the foot of her bed. Bambi was laying with her back to Genevieve's, but the blue pit had been awoken by a sudden presence appearing in the room. In the dark, Caliban had returned once more to the girl, this time having astral projected. Bambi's head stuck up, sniffing at him. He put his finger up to his lips and whispered to the dog, "Shh." Bambi was convinced and went back to sleep, leaving the boy to himself. He walked around until he was facing her, and he knelt down at her bedside. He rested his head on one arm while his other hand brushed some stray hairs away from her face. She looked so peaceful he was almost afraid to touch her. "Sleep well, darling girl," he whispered. "And forgive me for what I must do." Without another word, he kissed her forehead and promptly returned to his physical body in Hell.

#caliban #prince caliban #caos #caos pt 3 #sam corlett #caliban imagine #prince caliban imagine #caliban x reader #prince caliban x reader #caliban x oc #prince caliban x oc #chilling adventures of sabrina

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