#even the ideas posed we have would have only happened after the assault and done little to actually stop the crash when you think about it

[dykedvonte]

Reading MW takes on Twitter is like reading a summary of the Bible from someone who only watched like a Family Guy family special about it

[quindolyn]

Midnight Walks || James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 4363

Note: Dedicated to 🦎anon from @/randomoutsiders blog. Where I live it’s already 84℉ so this completely feasible but if you don’t live in hell and it's still cold and wintery outside just push it back a few months.

Warnings: Insecure reader, like 2 sexual comments because I’m filthy, talk of men being pigs and not keeping their hands to themselves, lots of fluff, modern muggle au, monkey bars, public nonsexual stripping,

Masterlist

Part 2

There were ants in your bones, there must’ve been. Either that or someone was trying to feather dust their way out of them. Your entire body itched with the urge to move, to run, to scream and jump in the middle of the street. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what drove this overwhelming desire, perhaps it was some sort of primal reason coded into your DNA, alternatively maybe it was the sitting at your computer all day. One could only attend so many online classes before they went insane, and a decent way into your second semester and still no sign of going back in person anytime before the next school year. You were like a purebred who desperately needed exercise. It would’ve been a simple enough fix if it wasn’t already 10:17, the sun having set four or so hours ago, even though you lived in a pretty nice area you didn’t feel comfortable going out. Men were disgusting, and going out this late alone meant risking life and limb because too many men thought it was okay to touch what wasn’t theirs. Fucking toddlers. So instead you were forced to open your windows in attempts to replicate the natural breeze and try to find another outlet for your energy. You tried. You really did. Jumping jacks, planks, the few yoga poses you could recall off the top of your head, dancing around your house to your favorite songs, but the music didn’t feel like it usually did, even it couldn’t soothe the itching in your bones. You were fucked, simply and truly. Too energetic without the proper outlet. After none of those things worked you sat down to attempt to get some of your weekend homework done, but somewhere between ionization energy and confidence intervals you found yourself picking at your nail polish instead of paying attention to your work. Groaning you threw your head down onto your desk, wincing as the pain from the impact spread through your skull. Closing your eyes you tried to imagine it, the cool night air in your face, blowing through your mangled tresses, the thud of your feet against the pavement of the sidewalk, the feeling of the grass at the park tickling your exposed skin as you stared up at the cloudy sky, looking for stars. You swore you could almost feel it all, almost pulled into bliss when you were yanked from your reprieve by the buzzing of your phone. Groaning, you pulled your head up, it wobbled on your neck, as though it was loose and needed to be tightened. Had you wanted to you couldn’t have stopped the smile that broke across your phone when you saw the notification on your lock screen, a text from James. Can I call you? Sure. You typed out waiting anxiously for your ringtone to blare through your room. Instead you were met with another brief buzz. One second, Sirius is being an idiot. Another smile, smaller than the last, bloomed across your face, Sirius was often an idiot. Picking up your phone you pressed it to your ear just in time to hear James greet you. “Hey baby.” Loving James was potentially one of the easiest things you’d ever done, if asked you would've said it would be easier to stop breathing before you stopped loving him. There was just so much to love and as his voice tickled your ear you remembered one of the things you so loved about him, the sound of his voice. With two simple words he was able to soothe you, if only a little bit. But still the ache to be outside lessened a little. “Hi Jamsie.” You crooned into the phone as you shut down your laptop coming to the conclusion you were going to get jack shit done tonight. You distantly heard Sirius in the background but couldn’t make out any words, “Pads says hi.” James conveyed. “Hi Siri!” You yelled into the phone, you waited until the bickering and laughing on their side of the phone quieted before continuing, “Whatcha callin’ about bub?” “Missed you is all, was wondering what you were doing?” “Nothing much, tried to get some homework done.” James chuckled knowing how distracted you could get if someone wasn’t there to help you stay on track, “How’d that go?” “Not well,” You grumbled, “S’not my fault either, can’t focus. I just need some fresh air, I need to go on a walk but I can’t.” Flinging your body onto your bed and landing on your back you pulled the phone from your ear, turning it onto speaker and setting it on your belly, liking the vibrations against your body as James spoke. It was almost like he was there with you. “I’m sorry darling,” James knew exactly what you were talking about. Unlike a lot of men he wasn’t afraid to broach topics like these, he would sit and kiss your head if some guy at the grocery store had been a prick and couldn't keep his eyes or his hands off of your ass, or if one of the boys in your class had made an objectifying comment. He’d listen to you lament and apologize, on behalf of all men, for the disgusting things you were forced to deal with. He had learned a lot since you started dating, he’d always been a feminist but before you hadn’t really understood what that meant. His mother and father always made sure he was aware of gender biases and he’d heard stories of women being assaulted, harassed, discriminated against and perhaps it made him a bad person but when it happened to you, when you told him about these things it was different, it was worse, he couldn’t control the rage that bubbled up inside of him. You were (Y/N) (L/N), you were his, you deserved to be treated like royalty. No one got to disrespect you. He felt the pang in his heart when he pictured you holed up in your house, like a caged animal, desperate to get out. “I know, and I love you.” You responded, knowing he hated how you had to be afraid and cautious all the time. “I love you too.” “What were you doing before you called?” You asked after a beat. “Watching a movie with mom and Sirius.” A twinge of guilt twisted in your stomach, “Oh, you should go back to them Jamsie, I don’t want to keep you from your family.” James stopped himself before he could tell you that they’d already finished the movie as an idea hit him like most of his ideas hit him, suddenly and fleetingly. Remus once compared them to a freight train. “Okay angel, talk to you later.” “Bye, Jamsie.” He hung up immediately as the last syllable left your lips causing a frown to tug downwards at those aforementioned lips. Sure, you felt a bit guilty that he’d bailed on his mom and Sirius for you but you couldn’t help feeling a little sad that he was so ready to get rid of you the second he had a chance. Feeling all too familiar insecurity simmer from under your sternum questions popped into your head one after another. Did he really want to be with you? Was this all because he just pitied you? Were you just a substitute for Lily? Did his heart still belong to her? What did he even see in you? You couldn’t help but feel like nothing compared to her, she’s Lily Evans. And you’re, well you’re just not. Time had slipped away from you, you hadn’t realised how much until you felt your phone buzz against your stomach and saw that almost 15 minutes had passed since James had hung up on you. You only briefly noted the time before your eyes flashed down to the banner displayed across your screen, another text. Look out your window. Lifting your torso, propping yourself up on your forearms and twisted your head to see James’ smiling face plastered against your window, a huge, beautiful grin, stretching across his face. You could feel a matching one fan out across your face as you skipped to the window, pulling it open relishing in the cool breeze that let itself into your room. “Hey there handsome.” You joked. “Hey beautiful.” “What are you doing outside my window?” You were befuddled, wasn’t he supposed to be watching some Quentin Tarantino or equally violent movies that he and Siri liked? “I was thinking we could go on a walk,” He explained unabashedly. “A walk?” You asked, a blush blossoming on your face, creeping its way down your neck. “You wanted to go on one, yeah?” “I love you.” Was all you said in response, he caught you as you threw yourself into his arms, the middle of your thighs biting into the sill of your window, but you didn’t care. How could you? All you could focus on was the way his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close to him so he could bury his nose into your hair. “Love you too darling.” There was a part of you, an admittedly large part, that wanted to stay standing there forever but the cool evening air reminded you about how much you wanted that walk. Peeling yourself away from him you placed your chin on his pectoral, not considerably comfortable for either of you, but you were close to each other, and that’s all that mattered. “Come in.” “I was waiting for you to ask.” He winked, slinging one leg over the windowsill giving him room to maneuver his rather large body through the small opening, but James had experience fitting his body into tiny things (namely your cunt). “Are your parents home?” “No, everyone’s gone for the night.” “Why didn’t you tell me baby, I would’ve come over and kept you company.” You felt heat creep back up your neck to your face, embarrassed by the answer. Though your insecurities could swallow you whole when you were alone, they seemed trivial when James was actually there, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. “Don’t want to be clingy.” The confession bringing even more heat to your cheeks. “Never, (Y/N), absolutely never. If anyone here is clingy it's me not you.” You corrected him, “You’re wonderful.” “So are you bub.” Reassuring you he brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “Now come on! Let’s get some shoes on you and we can go out.”

James was filling up an old water bottle he found in one of the cupboards in case either of you got thirsty when you entered the kitchen, shoes and socks in hand. Your boy smiled at you, twisting the cap of the water bottle on all of the way before setting it on the countertop and moving towards you. “Want me to put your shoes on for you?” “Yes please.” You nodded, grinning cheekily. His large hands found your waist, lifting you up and setting your bum onto the cool counter. Slipping the socks from your hand he knelt down to roll them over your feet, leaving a kiss on the inside of each of your ankles. “You wanna walk to anywhere in particular?” “The park?” You offered, handing him one of your tennis shoes which were a little beat up, but still a long way from needing to be replaced. “The one with the fountain?” “Do you know of any other parks within walking distance?” You snarked, swinging your legs, feeling the need to be outside return, faster and more powerful than before. “Guess not,” He grumbled, looking up at you with a playful smile so you would know he didn’t really take your sarcasm to heart. “Hey watch it!” He chuckled when you accidentally swung your leg a little too hard and knocked his left shoulder with your socked foot. “Sorry.” You apologized looking about as sorry as Sirius usually did when he was apologizing, which honestly wasn’t much. “There you go Cinderella.” He said, as he pat your thigh once he finished tying your laces, rising from his kneeling position. “You think you’re funny do you Potter?” “In fact I do (L/N).” He grinned, sliding you off the counter, onto your feet. “Shall we?” You offered your hand to him which he accepted like a true gentleman. “We shall.”

You were right, but then again, when were you ever wrong? Fresh air was exactly what you needed, the feeling of the wind in your hair, the twigs snapping beneath your weight, the solidness of the ground. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this alive. That was probably stupid but it was liberating to be out of your house, and on top of it it was nighttime too. You weren’t often able to be out this late because you usually didn’t have someone to go out with. You had almost forgotten how beautiful it was when there was no glass separating you from the moon and the stars. Despite the fact that his legs were far longer than yours James still had to speed walk to keep up with you. His heart swelled seeing you so happy and carefree as you strode unapologetically down the sidewalk. “Stop walking so fast.” He complained, finally matching your stride as he loosely looped his left arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible while still keeping the two of you moving forward. “Not my fault you’re a slowpoke.” You retaliated but nevertheless still resting your head on his broad shoulder. “It’s nice out isn’t it?” He pondered aloud. “It’s wonderful,” You agreed, closing your eyes and turning your face up towards the sky, trusting James to guide you safely down the sidewalk, “I’m sorry you had to ditch your mom and Siri to come be with me.” You apologized as another wave of guilt from earlier hit you. “I didn’t bubba, we’d already finished the movie when I called you.” “Really?” Your head perked up. “Mhm.” James hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me that?’ “Wanted to surprise you.” He explained and your heart soared, he really was indescribably sweet. “Well I was surprised.” “Good.” “What movie did you watch?” Wondering if your suspicions had been correct. “Forrest Gump.” He responded by popping his “p”. You laughed squeezing two of James’ fingers on the hand splayed across your stomach. “What?” “Nothin’, just thought you and Pads would’ve made your mom watch Reservoir Dogs or something.” “Come on, you know me and Padfoot (Y/N), nothin’ but a couple of softies the two of us.” “Yes, yes you are.” You responded completely seriously. “You were supposed to disagree, he whispered into your ear. “I cannot tell a lie.” “Hey!” He exclaimed in mock offense. “Come on I found the two fo you cuddling when I came over Wednesday, he was literally spooning you Jamsie. It was rather cute really.” James let you have the last word and the two of you were silent for a minute as you passed a house with a line of cars in front of it, stupid fucking people and their stupid fucking parties. You thought, thinking they’re more important than the rest of us, that it’s okay to throw a party during the middle of a pandemic. “There’s a pandemic going on people,” James muttered as you crossed in front of the driveway, as though he was reading your thoughts. You just nestled into him more. Once you cleared the super spreader house it was only a few feet before you turned the corner and your desired destination came into view causing a ginormous smile to practically crack your face in half. “Come on Jamie!” You giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street towards the park, not even looking both ways as you bolted across the street to the park. You’d always thought that parks and playgrounds and such looked a bit creepy after dark and while today was no exception you still didn’t think twice before bounding up the steps of the play structure. Laughing, you turned your face back up towards the sky as you reached down to slip your shoes and socks off, tossing them off the play structure onto the wood chips scattered across the ground. “You look beautiful up there.” You hadn’t noticed James approach you, but he was now standing at the foot of the play structure, looking up at you. “Come up here with me Jamie, please?” You pleaded, tugging on his arm. “How could I deny you anything?” “Simple,” You responded, “You can’t.” Pushing himself up onto the structure he tried to envelop you in his arms but you squirmed away, giggling. As you ran toward the slide at the opposite end of the playground he broke out into a run after you, purposefully keeping his strides short to give you the upper hand. Breaking out into a sprint as soon as your feet touched the ground you raced towards the open field, James hot on your heels. He chased you around the perimeter of the grassy clearing, the two of you yelling at each other and laughing until your lungs hurt when he finally caught you in his arms, trying to get you as close to him as possible. He loved the feeling of your body against his more than he loved life itself. Or even Sirius. “What should I do with you now that I’ve captured you?” He mused tauntingly, tightening his grip on you. “Well I know one thing you could do to me.” You murmured. “(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), get your mind out of the gutter Miss,” “Make me.” You teased, wiggling in his grasp. “I know what’ll fix your attitude.” James declared, adjusting his so his arms were around your waist instead of one there and one wrapped around your shoulders. “And what’s that?” “A nice February swim!” He roared jovially, hefting you over his shoulder as he bounded towards the fountain located on the east side of the park. “Jamie!” You shrieked as you bounced against him, “Slow down.” “Sorry Princess,” He huffed once you reached the fountain, he carefully lifted you off his shoulder and sat you down on the ledge of the water feature as he kneeled before you, hands pressing against your thighs. “Come on baby, go swimming with me?” “Course.” You smiled as you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it somewhere over Jamie’s shoulder. You didn’t bother watching where it landed, too enraptured with the gorgeous boy on his knees in front of you. “You look gorgeous (Y/N).” He murmured, taking it the sight of your bare stomach and chest clad in a lacy lavender bra. “I let you see mine, now get your shirt off Potter!” You commanded impatiently, you loved James all the time, but you especially loved James shirtless. “Okay, okay woman, calm down, I'm moving.” He playfully chastised shrugging off his jacket which you just now realised was his varsity jacket, his last name emblazoned across the back of it. When he caught you staring at him he teasingly played with the hem of his shirt, rolling it in the tips of his fingers until you lightly kicked his bent knee. He then discarded his pants, throwing them and his shirt somewhere to his right, carefully laying his jacket on a bench a few feet away he was left only in his boxers and you took this time to appreciate how his skin shown in the moonlight, his darker complexion brilliant in the darkness of the park. “You wanna keep your shorts on? He lilted, moving towards where you sat on the bench encircling the fountain. You nodded in response, not wanting to be so vulnerable in such a public space. “Okay baby sounds good.” James leaned in towards you pressing his lips to yours before he scooped you into his arms before stepping into the fountain, even though it was warm ish outside the water of the fountain hadn’t had enough time to truly heat up because the water that lapped at his midcalf almost had him feeling bad for what he did next. Which was dropping you into the freezing cold water, keeping you upright by his hold on your shoulders before you were able to ground yourself on the floor of the fountain. With water sprouting up from the top and cascading down 4 smaller tiers reminiscent of bird baths, getting larger and larger in radius as they went down, cold water nipped at your skin. “Agh!” You shrieked, “It’s freezing!” “Calm down drama queen!” James snorted, “Little cold water never hurt anybody.” “Speak for yourself!” Screaming as James bent down to splash you with water you tried to run away resulting in you falling backwards onto your bum. “You okay baby?” James asked nervously bending down next to you, surveying your near naked body for any cuts or bruises. Your response came as you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, submerging the entirety of his body in the chilly water. He quickly pulled you down with him so that your head was submerged, your hair billowing out around you in the water. When you pulled back up to the surface your wet hair was plastered to your face. And though you were cold, wet, and maybe a little banged up your heart was aflame, this had been exactly what you needed, to run around like a little kid and lose yourself, if only for a little while. Glancing back down your jaw dropped, the light coming from the fountain walls made the shadows of the water reflect on James’ dark skin making him look even more beautiful, like something out of a book. He took your temporary lapse as an opportunity to flip you around so that he was on top of you, he thought you were always stunning but something about you beneath him made you shine like nothing else he’d ever seen. Taking good care to make sure your head didn’t bump against the fountain, and that your head was above water, he trailed kisses from your temple to your jaw. When he reached your chin the second freight train of the night hit him head on and he stuck out his tongue licking from the point of your chin, up your lips, the bridge of your nose, and up your forehead until he reached your hair line where he left one more gentle kiss. “James Potter!” You shrieked, a giggling mess, “What the hell?” He lifted himself off you so he could once again scoop you into his arms, “Come on my little water nymph, let’s get you dry, don’t need you getting sick on me.” “Think you should’ve thought about that before you dunked me into the fountain in nothing but my bra and shorts.” You retaliated to which he only rolled his eyes, before shaking his head like a wet dog. “I swear to God Potter, you’re a Golden Retriever.” “Hmh?” He asked, stepping out of the fountain. “Playful, loyal, energetic, smart.” You explained, planting a kiss on his nose. “Shaking off to dry like a fucking dog.” “You love me.” He grinned, like the thought was just now hitting him, like you hadn’t said it already multiple times that night. “That I do Potter.” You agreed as he set you down on the bench where he had laid his jacket, taking care to slip your arms into it one at a time he pulled it close to your body to keep you warm before coming up behind you, tipping your head back so he could wring the excess water out of it, taking this as an opportunity to kiss the hollow of your throat to which you hummed. Upon slipping on his previously discarded pants and shirt, an endeavor you watched very closely, not wanting to miss a second of how his muscles shifted underneath his smooth, taut skin, he sat down next to you. “It’s a beautiful night.” “That it is.” You agreed. The two of you sat there for a moment before James carefully stood up, “Where are you going Jamie? Too tired now, m’done playing.” “I know angel, come on, not gonna play, just get more comfortable.” He soothed, taking you by the hand and walking you over to a set of fairly new monkey bars. Picking you up from the bottom of your thighs he pushed you up and above his shoulders to sit on top of the monkey bars and you were reminded why it sometimes came in handy to be dating the captain of the football team. Swinging up next to you on the monkey bars he slid his arm around your shoulders, both of your legs meeting the edge of the cold metal at the bend of your knees, your bodies there down hanging off leaving the both of you on your backs staring up at the unusually starry night sky. “There’s Orion.” You lifted your arm to point out the constellation, “ Surprised we can see so many.” You marvelled. “It is rather pretty.” “‘Rather pretty’?” You gasped exasperated with the boy next to you, “It’s not just ‘rather pretty’, it's gorgeous!” You corrected with a huff, turning your visage back up towards the heavens. “Eh,” He shrugged, “I’ve seen better.” “I swear to God, James Fleamont Potter if you say ‘You’re prettier than any constellation’ I’m going to push you off these monkey bars.” A chuckle pushed its way past his lips as he brushed his lips along the part of your hair, “You know me too well don’t you (L/N).” “Yeah, I’ve got your number Mister.” James pulled out his phone to check the time, “Hey baby, it’s midnight.” He whispered in your ear, turning his phone screen so you could read the time. “Happy Saturday my darling boy.” “Happy Saturday Princess, let’s get you home.”

Note: I know in my initial ask on @/randomoutsiders you guys went home and more fluff ensued. Maybe a part two?

tagging: @randomoutsiders​ 

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter eight - “hovel, sweet hovel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2k

synopsis: bucky and y/n arrive the shelter and take a look at what it has to offer.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: what would you like to see happen next? let me know! (p.s. this is what i pictured the shelter/hovel to look like)

"I think this is it," Bucky said, looking forward at the structure in front of them.

"That's the 'shelter?'" Y/N huffed, hopelessly annoyed.

They had been walking and jogging on and off for forty-five minutes straight. Her feet killed.

"We're... gonna die."

"We are not gonna die, Y/N."

"Look at it! That is a hovel!"

"Well, inside's better than outside," Bucky retorted. "At least no one will see us if we're in there. It looks abandoned, they'll assume it actually is.”

She sighed and followed behind Bucky into the shelter. It was a one story stone structure that looked so old and weathered. It... looked like a shed. An old ass stone shed. She briefly wondered if Wakanda had a storm season because she was almost certain this thing wouldn't withstand it.

The door let out an anticipated squeak, and she was just as disappointed to see the inside as she was the outside. Bucky put the bags down and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah... this... isn't great..."

It was just as small as it seemed. And empty. Mostly. There were a few withered shelves with dusty pots and bowls, and an even more withered attempt at a table. There was what looked like a furnace in one corner with old, rotted wood in it. The wooden floor creaked under their steps.

The whole place felt like a ghost: desolate, ancient, and lonely. Except for one peculiar thing...

"Bucky?" she beckoned.

"Hm?"

(Y/N) hadn't noticed it when she first entered, but in the middle of the table sat a small, shiny, black panther figurine. It posed on all fours, looking ferociously up at her. It looked so out of place in contrast of the eternal layer of dust on everything else.

"What is this?" she asked reaching for the one thing that didn't match.

When her hand wrapped around it, energy surged into her skin. It felt almost... alive.

"(Y/N) what-" Bucky was cut off by a sound that startled them both.

In the corner across from the furnace, a section of the floor starting moving. Wood on wood on stone was not a good sound. Nonetheless, in mere seconds, there was an opening, and if (Y/N) leaned forward, she could see stairs!

Both of them remained still, feet planted on the creaky floor. They immediately looked at each other.

"What did you do?"

"I'm... not sure. I think I opened it."

(Y/N) smirked.

"What?" Bucky asked, confusion clearly evident in his tone.

"I should've known," (Y/N) shook her head. "Shuri wouldn't have led us here unless there was something more."

She held the panther figurine as she walked towards the opening.

"Wait," he grabbed her arm. "We don't know that Shuri knew that was here. What if it's a trap?"

"A trap from who? I don't think anyone knows we're here except Shuri."

"I don't know. J-Just let me go first."

"Alright. After you, oh wise one," she acquiesced, voice sarcastic but endearing all the same.

Bucky tried to suppress a chuckle. "Smartass. You're the wise one."

She tried to go down the stairs, letting him go first, but apparently that wasn't enough.

"Wait, just let me go look around and I'll holler when it's all good."

"Holler? Who says holler?"

"Me. Wait here."

"Fine," she made a show of pointedly plopping down on the top step, still and waiting as he requested.

It only took about ten seconds.

"Woah..." his voice came from far away.

"What is it?!" (Y/N) leaned forward.

"You were right! Come down, you gotta see this!"

She wasted no time... and standing beside Bucky, her jaw dropped.

"Holy..."

Beneath the ground was a significantly larger, way more modernized, and highly advanced survival shelter. All equipped with smaller versions of a table, chairs, and cabinets, along with a compact freezer and miniature stove, a chest, a closet, and two sets of bunk beds. Everything was clean and looked in optimal condition. There was even a rug.

"Shuri definitely didn’t leave you with nothing," Bucky commented, still taking it all in.

"-us with nothing," she corrected, retreating back up to the shed to get the bags.

-

Later in the day, (Y/N) got a handle on the panther key and how to use it to open and close the entryway to the bunker. Once she figured it out, she kept it closed, ensuring their concealment and maximizing their safety.

Bucky had found his way into the closet, listing off the contents to (Y/N) who sat on the floor, back up against one of the bunk bed legs. She was exhausted. Her body had been assaulted by adrenaline and strenuous mortal-danger-physical-activity. Bucky seemed to be fine, though. Curse that super soldier serum. His energy was always so high.

"...oh, and here's the bedding stuff. I don't know what this is, though."

(Y/N) lethargically leaned her head over to get a good view of the closet.

She chuckled. "That's a space heater...Oh! And next to it - that's a portable AC. Makes sense. I doubt they could get electric or plumbing out here."

And her head rolled back to center, eyes closing, body exhausted.

Bucky seemed to notice. "Hey, if you're tired, I can make the beds...or at least yours if you wanna sleep now."

(Y/N) stretched her legs straight out in front of her. "No, that's okay."

She wasn't about to force her one armed friend to make a bed for her. That's just rude. Especially after he carried those bags. She felt bad; she wished she had done more.

"Nah, I don't mind. It's not like I got anything else to do," he insisted, bringing the bedding over.

(Y/N) stood, body internally complaining in aching protest. She didn't really have the energy to expertly persuade him.

"Buck, it's fine." Her voice was faint.

He didn't even stop to hesitate, seemingly determined on the task. She thought it better to just give up and let him do his thing since he was so set on it. However, the sheet was fitted and there were pillow cases, not really one-arm friendly assets. He was struggling... very clearly. (Y/N) felt even worse.

He started moving quicker, frustration jerking his arm in quick, irritated bursts as he was trying to get the sheet to stay. There was still no success.

She stepped forward gently. "Bucky..."

"Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his hand on the bed frame before forcefully standing up. His hand went to his forehead, rubbing his eyes in disappointment.

(Y/N) was a statue. She had never seen him mad before; she had no idea what to do. Don't get her wrong, she wasn't scared, she just wasn't sure what to say.

"Can't fuckin' do anything," he muttered under his breath.

She finally moved forward. "Hey, forget the bedding, it doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does," he turned. "We're hiding from a collapsed regime and I can't even make a damn bed. Plus you've done so much for me, I just wanted to help with something. I just wanted to be able to do something."

Oh. Suddenly, his anger was gone. It was replaced with a miserable helplessness. It made her chest tight; she needed to fix this.

"Buck, you don't owe me anything. I'm here because I wanted to help, not because I was expecting anything in return. And I don't know what you've been paying attention to, but I watched you carry the majority of those - heavy - bags the entire way here while simultaneously figuring out the way to the shelter while my brain was momentarily smooth. You were the voice of reason in that chaos we just escaped from, and it's a damn good thing you were so calm because I don't know if I could have handled the panic of the both of us."

"You could've," he murmured. "And I wasn't calm, I'm just used to this. I was trained for situations like this."

No, she wasn't going to lose to deflection.

"Regardless, you were a huge help. Seriously."

He still didn't look convinced.

"In fact, I feel more safe here with you than I would with Shuri and the Queen. You're like a super soldier body guard."

A look washed over his face that (Y/N) couldn't quite place. He looked at her quizzically, like he was trying to figure something out.

"You... feel safer with me?"

"That's what I said, yes."

"You're not like... worried about..."

"The Winter Soldier? No."

He sighed. "How can you be so sure? You have no idea if or when I might... you know."

"We are literally the only people here, and I don't plan on saying the trigger words. So unless you plan on saying them, I don't really think we have anything to worry about. And, even if you did 'you know,' you could definitely get away with it and no one would find the body."

He turned bright red. "What?!"

"I'm kidding! Sorry. But Bucky, you've been doing so well with me and Shuri, and honestly the Hydra programming might not even be there anymore."

"But we don't know for sure!"

"Bucky..." she pleaded, turning her head slightly as to say what is this about?

"I can't trust my own mind," he sighed looking at the floor. "I just don't wanna do anything bad. It's just - weird that you don't seem to be worried at all."

"Why is that?"

"Everyone sees me as a monster."

The room was dead silent. He wasn't looking at her, but if (Y/N) looked at him any harder, she was sure she'd burn a hole through his head. How could anyone see this man as a monster? Logically, she understood what other people saw. But personally, she couldn’t find it in her to perceive him like that. It just didn’t work. All she could find was gentleness, compassion, and sincerity.

"I can't see you as something you're not," she said, whisper soft. "I don't care if you hands are 'scarred from murder' or however you said it a few sessions ago. I trust them entirely."

He finally looked up at her, his face filled with something she couldn't quite place. It looked a bit like disbelief and then it changed into relief and then something else entirely. A slow smile crept up on his lips.

"...hand."

"What?"

"My hand. Singular. Not hands."

A deep, deep smile - to match the one on Bucky - grew on her face just before the pair started cracking up ridiculously. Perhaps this was an odd way of releasing the tension, fear, frustration, and exhaustion of the day. Nevertheless, laughter was cathartic. It was so cathartic that eventually (Y/N) could hardly catch her breath and Bucky's stomach hurt. This went on for several minutes.

In time, they both calmed down. She didn't remember when exactly it happened, but they were both sitting on the floor now. They sat in between the two bunk beds, facing one another, each back leaning against a respective bedpost.

The atmosphere was different now, but not in a bad way. It felt like 2 a.m. at a sleepover, when the conversations get drowsily deep, with slow voices and honest confessions. It was heavy eyelids and low inhibitions.

A fresh wave of exhaustion washed over her. She let her head fall slack against the bedpost, resting.

"Bucky, what were sleepovers like in the forties?" she asked softly, eyes closing ever so delicately. 

"Well," he started, getting into a story of his past with Steve and the couch cushions.

And that's how she fell asleep. Sitting on the floor, leaning against a bunk bed, and listening to his voice fade out into the background of her consciousness.

If only she knew how she would wake up: laying comfortably on one of the beds, with one blanket on top of her and another below her because he couldn't get the sheet to cooperate. With the pillowcase carefully draped atop the pillow instead of enveloping it because that's what one hand would allow. With the bed next to her being slept in with no blanket because he used his as the replacement for the sheet he couldn’t get to cooperate.

[stubbychaos]

Ori Kebiin and Saviin’ika

Chapter 8 of Saviin’ika

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Paz takes you to the covert after your long day, despite you not being accepted by everyone in the tribe yet. Though you are content to finally be away from a toxic environment, Paz wants his vengeance towards those who have hurt you.

Rating: M

Word Count: 13,000 (I kinda got carried away)

Warnings: Brief mentions of psychological abuse and manipulation, as well as the aftermath of the attempted sexual assault from last chapter. Again, there’s mentions of blood, but not nearly as graphic as the last chapter!

Translations will all be at the end since there’s so many this chapter. I separated the actual dialogue from the typical nicknames and such. The title, however, translates to “Big Blue and Little Violet” :)

You have no idea how you manage the strength to walk on your feet after the day you’ve had, but you think Paz’s hand firmly pressed to the small of your back gives you the motivation to be stronger.

Though the dread still lingers like a dark rain cloud over your frantic heart as Paz leads you to your home to grab a change of clothes, you’re certain that the Mandalorian would not let anything happen to you should your father be awake. His thumb moves in firm little circles against the thick material of his cape that’s shielding your body from any wandering eyes and even though you can’t get the memory of slaying the Trandoshan out of your mind, you feel slightly better now that your warrior had cleaned as much of the blood away from your skin as he possibly could.

Out of sight, but never out of mind, you resentfully realize as you slowly approach the worn down hut you’ve lived in for your entire life and find the thought of living anywhere else strange, but certainly not disheartening in the slightest. Paz gently urges you behind him as he leads you inside the building, his leather-clad fingers firmly wrapped around your wrist and you can’t help but to smile weakly at his diligence and insistence on keeping you safe from anymore danger.

Much to your relief, you hear your father’s snores from the other room, most likely blacked out on alcohol or his drug of choice and you hastily lead Paz into your tiny room, only letting go of his hand so you can sift through the wooden crate where you keep what little clothes and garments you own.

“Cyare,” Paz whispers the nickname, perhaps remembering that your abuser sleeps in the room down the hall; he makes sure to keep his voice down as he gathers some of your toiletries and carefully situates them in a small canvas bag, “Where we are going, it is deep underground--it is much colder--do you have anything warmer to wear?”

You blink and manage to find a large cable knit sweater that you haven’t worn in such a long time, along with a thicker pair of leggings and some clean undergarments; you freeze when the Mandalorian speaks again.

“And something to sleep in?”

Heat floods your cheeks and earlobes and you nervously move to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, growing even more embarrassed when you realize the strands are matted to your neck with blood, “Am I staying the night there?”

You find a thin-sleeved, satin night gown that falls a few inches above your knees and you slowly rise to turn and face Paz, noticing the tension in his shoulders as he stares at you through the safety of his visor. You’ve never once questioned his loyalty to the creed by asking what he looks like underneath the helmet, but you suddenly find yourself jealous that he is able to conceal his features upon feeling nervous or shy. He reaches out to gently stroke your jaw, helmet tilting to the side as you hold your clean clothes tightly to your chest; he is silent as he collects the fabric from your tight hold and places it in the canvas bag.

“You would not be turned away after the day you’ve had,” He reassures you, cupping his hand to the side of your neck, “I am hoping they will let you stay permanently once they meet you.”

Your heart swells and you nod a little, your heart pumping furiously in your chest at the thought of spending the night with him again, let alone the rest of your days.

“Thank you,” You fiddle nervously with your large sweater as he continues to stare at you, “I… I will change now.”

“Then I won’t look,” He hums, sounding slightly amused as he turns his back to you, “Unless you wish for me to see you, little nurse?”

An intense heat spreads throughout your face as you let his cape fall from your shoulders and you begin to remove your boots. You remember the way the Trandoshan’s grimy hands had found the hem of your dress and you drop your head in shame as you peel away your undergarments and replace them with fresh ones. You feel sick and ashamed that it had nearly gotten to the point where he had taken advantage of you and you want to tell Paz exactly what had happened, but the feeling of your attacker’s hands on your torso leaves you feeling raw and vulnerable.

You’re embarrassed.

“I fear you would not like what you would see.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet moves in a jolting gesture, though he makes sure not to completely turn his head towards you and your heart thrums frantically when you realize it must be out of respect for your own wishes. You’re hasty to cover your chest with a clean bralette and you feel as though your cheeks are on fire when you replace your shorts with fresh undergarments and thick leggings, all while keeping your eyes on the back of his helmet.

“You are beautiful, cyare,” Paz softly reminds you, his baritone as low and quiet as his modulator will allow him, “I don’t like seeing you bruised and hurt, but it does not take away from your beauty. I do not think I could go through all of your pain without any armor; it must be difficult to bare your scars for all to see.”

You think it to be the most heartfelt compliment he could give you--informing you that he believes your strength and endurance to be up to his standards--and you smile warmly at the back of his helmet.

“Okay,” You eventually murmur as you tug the large sweater over your head, the cozy fabric fitting you similarly to a short, loose dress, “I’m ready.”

The Mandalorian turns to face you just as you’re grabbing his cape that you had neatly placed on the foot of your bed; his helmet tilts to the side as he watches you hug the material close to your chest. Thinking he doesn’t need the warm fabric yet, you hold onto it tightly as you follow him out your room, tensing a little when you’re met with utter silence, rather than your father’s typical loud snores. Paz must notice it too, because you watch as his hand immediately moves to the blaster sheathed against his hip; your heart pounds wildly in your chest as the two of you make it up the two stairs leading out of the hut.

Before you even realize what’s going on, Paz immediately whips around and draws a blaster within a fraction of a second, carefully pushing you behind him; you’re confused, until you hear a familiar voice that you’re certain will forever haunt you, even if you never see him again.

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” You tilt your head to the side so you can see your father staggering towards you and Paz, “You decide to fucking not show up to one of your shifts and thought I would be okay with it? Then you bring him here? After everything I told you? Are you really that fucking stupid or do I need to--?”

You snap before the Mandalorian does.

For the third time in the last twenty-four hours--you absolutely snap.

“I have had one of the longest, roughest days of my life, so don’t you dare make me feel bad for not showing up to work or bringing him here!” You step to the side and put yourself in front of Paz, though he still keeps his blaster pointed on the drunk man who poses no real threat to the warrior, “I have been working every day for you for the last decade and never once have you ever thanked me for the time I put in--for all that I have done for you and working for free! You never once thanked me for all the tears and blood I have shed for you at the expense of your own hands and I am exhausted.”

Your father--Maker, does he look stunned by your outburst--and you’re certain that if Paz wasn’t there, he would have struck you the moment you raised your voice, but his eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he regards you. You think of the Trandoshan and the bounty hunter and how both of them had caused you such rage, fear, and desperation and you suddenly find it easier to argue with your only living blood.

You don’t even notice the way Paz tenses behind you when your father staggers forward, nearly tripping over his own feet and you suddenly feel embarrassed for the kind of torment you have let this pathetic man inflict upon you. You’re shaking with the trauma from such a horrific day as you step a little closer to him, speaking through clenched teeth at the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember.

After killing the Trandoshan, you think you’re not fazed by anything, let alone your father’s clumsy anger.

“You have put me through so much pain and so much agony--so much torture--Maker, do you have a heart at all? Do you even realize what you’ve done to me? How much you’ve scarred my body and my mind?!” You force yourself not to cry, thinking he doesn’t deserve a single tear from you when he’s stolen so many in your life, “I am supposed to be your daughter, not your slave, and I won’t let you treat me as such anymore!”

Your chest is heaving wildly as he simply stares at you in shock, probably not even aware you were capable of storing such hatred and fury in your tender heart.

"I have never hated anyone as much as I hate you," You seethe, speaking through clenched teeth as you watch the way your words sober him, his back straightening a little "I hope you feel a fraction of the same loneliness and pain you have made me feel after I leave this awful place; I hope it haunts you everyday until you finally die."

Your father’s eyes widen and you’re certain he is shocked at the courage you have somehow obtained within a single day, though it still does not stop him from continuing to berate you

“And what would you do when he grows tired of you?” He sneers, though you simply shake your head, remembering how your warrior had declared his love for you and you force yourself to remember the devotion in his deep baritone, “You think those monsters would actually take you in as one of their own? You think this savage could genuinely love someone like you? Someone so weak and useless? They’ll use you and simply throw you away, just like anyone else would.”

You hear Paz snarl behind you, no doubt shaking with rage and a desire for wrath against your father, but you offer your last living relative a weak smile and nod a little, thinking of everything your warrior has done for you in the last few months and the happiness he’s given you. Perhaps you’re not as naive as you once thought--now so used to the horrors of such a cruel planet--and you’re certain that if this huge warrior insists his love for you, he must not be lying.

“I am not weak nor useless and I now know that,” You insist fiercely, and even though your voice trembles, you feel the words deep down in your bones--in your soul--and you step closer to the man whose unfocused gaze is currently switching between you and Paz frantically, “I am far stronger than you have ever led me to believe and I will not let you tear down me, nor the only man who has ever built me up. Even if I am not accepted, I will find a way to make a life for myself because anywhere is better than this hell.”

His angry expression cracks as soon as he realizes he no longer has any control over your inhibitions or choices and you know what’s about to happen--the manipulative words he’s about to spew.

“Y-You can’t leave me!” He doesn’t sound angry, but more so frantic at the thought of no longer having control over you, and he pleadingly holds out his careless hands, “You are my only family I have left.”

Though you feel a twinge of pain in your heart at how distraught he suddenly sounds, you turn your head to peer at Paz over your shoulder, who now has his blaster lowered. His helmet tilts to the side a little when he sees the conflict etched on your features and you think he must be incredulous that you even have to think about this--choosing between him or your father--but he simply gives you a curt nod and you turn back to your father.

“You said it yourself--” You whisper, backing away from his stumbling form before he can reach you, “You have no daughter, nor do I have a father.”

As soon as you see the look of despair melt into something more intense, something you’re so acclimated with--that anger, that intense fury--you immediately know you’ve made the right choice. Feeling flustered and slightly overwhelmed, you hastily turn around and storm past the usually talkative Mandalorian that has grown deathly silent and still as his Beskar gaze follows your small form that’s still clutching his cape close to your chest.

“Don’t forget that promise, you useless bitch! I’ll make you both fucking suffer,” He spits, instantly making you freeze and though dread crawls up your spine, you slowly turn to find Paz charging towards the much smaller, more feeble man with great furiosity that you’ve never seen from him, “Fucking Manda--”

You watch with wide eyes as your warrior immediately wraps his fingers around your newly estranged father’s neck and you are quick to make your way towards the two men when Paz effortlessly shoves him up against the outside of the hut with enough force to crack the outside of the little building. Your father claws desperately at the hand that has him pinned to the building, his feet an inch or two off the ground and you freeze when you hear the anger and pain in Paz’s modulated voice.

“You are lucky the little nurse has a tender heart and doesn’t wish for me to end your sorry existence, because I would have gladly had your lifeless body at her feet the moment I first saw you mistreat her,” Paz easily inches him higher off the ground, not seeming all too worried about his comfort as he squeezes his hand tighter around the struggling man’s esophagus, “You have caused her enough pain to last a lifetime and I will not watch you hurt her anymore with your words or hands.”

Your father’s mouth is wide open as he gasps and flops wildly like a fish on land when Paz finally drops him and you can tell it’s taking everything out of him to not cause the older man further damage as he wheezes violently at the warrior’s feet. You think you should feel sorry for your father, but instead you feel embarrassed that you have let someone so pathetic and greedy push you around for such a long time.

“He’s going to get tired of you and leave, you ungrateful bitch!” The older man speaks through loud gasps for air, choking and heaving on his own spit, “Everyone always does, you know you’re nothing--”

You should stop Paz--you know you should stop him as he lifts his boot, only to send a mighty kick to your father’s ribs and you hear a loud crack that you are all too familiar with, though you don’t cringe or turn away from it.

You’re far too acquainted with the sound to be disgusted by it and you think it to be painfully ironic that he is now in a position that you’ve been in so many times because of him.

“Useless, huh? Have fun tending your own wounds without her help,” Paz scoffs, listening to the injured man wheeze frantically, biting back whimpers as he clutches his side, “You ever try anything with her or even think about coming for me, I’ll cut your hands off and let someone else in tribe deal with you, hu’tuun. They would not show you the same mercy that I have and I would not mind seeing what kind of pain they would show you.”

You watch with wide eyes as he slowly turns around, tight fists instantly unfurling as he sees your shocked expression, though he is quick to carefully grab your elbow and lead you away from the man who is still gasping for deep breaths of air. The bright glimmer of moonlight kissing his visor as he turns to peer down at you every now and then has you growing curious and slightly worried at the sharp, jittery motions.

“Paz, are you--?”

“I am sorry you had to see me like that,” He makes haste to apologize and you shake your head a little as he leads you further away from your broken home, “I do not want you to think of me as cruel, but the way he speaks to you and treats you… I wanted to kill him, cyare.”

“After today, I don’t think I could ever believe you to be cruel,” You whisper with a light shudder, feeling the way his fingertips immediately slide down the inside of your forearm before they’re weaving through the valleys of your fingers in a firm hold; you think of the Trandoshan and bounty hunter and shake your head again, “I… I have seen what cruel men are capable of and I would never think you to be like them.”

“When we get to the covert, will you tell me what happened to you today--what he did to you?” Paz sounds so restrained and full of anger and sadness as he thinks of someone he’s considered to be a brother hunting you down and hurting you so horrifically, “If it is too hard to speak of it, I won’t push you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and exhale deeply as he takes you further outside the village, “I do not know if I have the strength to talk about it yet.”

“Okay,” Paz nods sharply, even though you can tell that this is all killing him slowly and he so desperately wants to know what the hell happened, “Okay, cyare.”

You smile softly at him being so understanding of the delicate situation and tiredly press your cheek against his bicep as he leads you to the people that are supposedly excited for your arrival. You think Paz must be exaggerating about his tribe’s eagerness to meet you and there’s a sick feeling growing in your stomach as you think of their bounty hunter and how he was most likely one of the Mandalorians who didn’t want you at the covert.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a few minutes of silence as you both slowly trudge through the village, though you think he only walks slow for you and your injuries, “That couldn’t have been an easy thing for you to stand up to him like that.”

“I… I don’t really know how to feel,” You whisper, your fingers curling tightly around his as you try to gather your thoughts into one cohesive statement to sum up your feelings, “I am sad, but my chest feels lighter. I have never talked back to him like that, but I do not regret what I said.”

“That takes a lot of courage,” Paz consoles with a deep hum, giving your hand a gentle squeeze and as he tilts his helmet a little lower and to the side, you like to picture him smiling down at you--whatever his smile may look like, though you’re certain it must be a kind, warm one, “It takes strength to stand up to someone that has hurt and manipulated you that badly, cyare, and you should feel only pride for acting so bravely.”

You smile and nod a little, knowing that someday you will truly believe his words, but for now you simply remain silent and focus on the firm hold he has on your hand. You hesitate and tense up when he moves to lead you down a dark alleyway that seems to go on for a mile; it’s so dark that you can’t even see where it ends and you move to take a step backwards as you think of the Trandoshan.

“It’s okay,” Paz reassures you, seeming to notice and understand your tension, “It’s… It’s been a long day, I get it, but I won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve got me, cyare--always.”

You tug your hand out of his and squeeze the crook of his elbow as he leads you into the darkness of the alleyway. Despite not being able to make out anything, you feel how unwavering and sure the warrior is as he easily strides down the alleyway and it’s not until he scoops a thick curtain to the side that he turns on the little flashlight attached to the side of his helmet. You’re surprised to find a small set of stairs that leads down into a dark tunnel and you let him guide the way, trusting him enough to know he’s taking you somewhere safe.

“Careful,” Paz says softly as you slowly make your way down the winding staircase that takes the two of you further underground, “I know how clumsy you can be--or what was it you said when I took you to the hot springs the first time? The only thing graceful about you are your hands?”

You huff and try to shrug off the flirty remark, shaking your head as you carefully trail behind him, "You are not as smooth as you think, Paz."

He turns his helmet to gaze at you, nearly blinding you with the flashlight, all while continuing to descend the staircase and you hear him chuckle, "You’re lucky I am wearing my gloves, I know how hot your ears and cheeks get when you get all shy around me, little nurse.”

“I am sunburned,” You inform him with a scoff as he turns to face forward upon meeting the bottom of the staircase; you unfurl his cape to wrap it around your shoulders as it begins to grow colder, “I think most of my skin is pretty warm right now.”

He hums and you think he’s tense as you wrap both hands around his bicep as you two venture further into the underground tunnels; you remember the heavy weight of the Trandoshan’s body draped over your weak one as the heat from harsh sun rays beat down on you for hours on end. He doesn’t know anything that’s happened to you in the last day and you’re not sure if you should tell him, somewhat fearing for the bounty hunter’s life at the thought of Paz’s anger upon finding out you had been forced to take a life.

That the Trandoshan had touched you--that he’d nearly taken off your dress.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re clinging onto Paz’s bicep, forcing yourself to remember that you hadn’t been violated in such an intense way and that you were currently safe with your Mandalorian.

“We are almost there,” Paz reassures you, though you think it only brings you more anxiety and fear as he calmly leads you to his tribe, not seeming fazed or nervous in the slightest, “You will be loved by them as a little sister, please do not worry. I will take care of the bounty hunter.”

You simply nod as you let him guide you through what feels like endless tunnels and turns and you wonder how he could possibly know his way through such an intense maze of dark stone. You think of all the times he’s made his way through the tunnels just to see you and your heart swells as you glance up at his scuffed up helmet with admiration, thinking that he must see something in you to make such a winding journey so many times.

“Stay behind me, please,” Paz gently orders, responding quietly to your wide-eyed expression after he nudges you behind his big frame, “Just for a minute.”

He turns a corner just as an unfamiliar voice speaks up and you instantly perk up at the sound of a small, innocent voice; they sound younger than you and you’re not sure why, but that brings you great comfort immediately.

“Norac bid nusujii, ori kebiin?” A high-pitched, feminine voice has you feeling curious and despite Paz’s words, you poke your head to gaze past his bicep. Instantly, a forest green helmet with that notorious t-shaped visor whips to the side to stare at you and the smaller Mandalorian is quick to stand up from where she had been perched on a stone ledge next to the large, round entrance leading into the covert. You blink at the scuffed up teal armor that the female Mandalorian dons and you think the sapphire color of her gauntlets to be beautiful and less intimidating compared to the bounty hunter’s armor.

“Cuyir ibic gar orikih baar'ur, ba’vodu Paz?”

You think she must be asking Paz a question by the incline of her tone and he immediately turns to find you gazing intensely at the guard; letting out with a crackly sigh, Paz gives her a single sharp nod, “‘Lek.”

She lets an amused hum slip past her modulator and steps a little closer, “Ni copad at haa'taylir kaysh.”

Paz turns a little to place a big hand on the small of your back, kindly urging you forward and you hear the colorful Mandalorian let out with a small chuckle when you speak quietly in a shy voice, “The colors of your armor are pretty--blue is one of my favorite colors.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

You immediately understand the meaning of her playful words when Paz offers her some sort of admonishment in his deep voice, speaking in his native tongue, “Gar liser't chayaikir kaysh guuror ibic.”

“Sorry, sorry,” The woman chuckles a little, helmet cocking to the side as she places a leather hand on her hip, “Thank you for the compliment, though I do not think I have ever heard someone refer to a Mandalorian as being pretty; most people would spit on us the first chance they got,” 

She still sounds amused as she props her sharp Beskar staff up against the stone wall, holding out a hand for you to shake; you smile weakly at the greeting and grasp her hand lightly, noticing her firm grip right away. She stands a few inches taller than you and even though she is probably the least intimidating Mandalorian you’ve met so far, you don’t doubt her strength.

“I do not think that those who would choose to spit on you would last very long.”

“Ni guuror kaysh,” The colorful Mandalorian giggles, her head tilting to the side as she peers down at you, “Cuyir gar orikih baar’ur ratiin ibic pel?”

“Elek,” Paz huffs a little and nods, sounding proud as he quickly answers her question, “Yes, ever since the day I first saw her.”

Your cheeks burn at what they could possibly be saying about you, though you don’t wish to cause any disrespect and politely continue to firmly shake the colorful Mandalorian’s hand as she giggles a little louder at his answer.

“I am Imalia,” She finally introduces herself and you’re surprised to actually hear excitement in her smooth, modulated voice as she continues to shake your hand; you’re even more surprised that she would so willingly give you her name, “Everyone calls me Ima though; I am one of the guards that protects the entrance this late at night since we’ve been having more and more close calls with outsiders lately.”

You blink as her leather-clad palm slips from yours and you nervously wring your fingers together, not knowing what to do with your own hands, “My name is--”

“Oh, we all know who you are, vod’ika,” She interrupts with another giggle and confusion fills you when you hear Paz let out with an exasperated sigh; your heart warms when you remember that he had told you ‘vod’ika’ meant little sister,  “Our heavy-infantry warrior hasn’t shut up about you since he first saw you--always rambling on about his ‘mesh’la saviin’ika’ and how pretty your flowers are and how kind you are and how he wants riduurok with you someday. We all thought he was making you up until he brought home your flowers one day.”

“Ori Kebiin bal Saviin’ika,” She tilts her head to the side, amused by her own words and you hear Paz groan from behind you, “How cute.”

You grow even shyer at her teasing voice, “What does... that mean? R-Riduurok?”

“Oh, y’know,” Ima says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, flippantly waving a gloved hand around, “When two people agree to--”

“It means Imalia is a teenager who likes to gossip too much and is far too nosy for her own good,” Paz quickly deflects, resting a large hand over the slope of your shoulder and you think he almost sounds stressed out and worried as the colorful Mandalorian shrugs halfheartedly, “Is the armorer at the forge, Mal?” 

The way he seems so comfortable speaking with the younger warrior immediately makes you smile softly and you wonder if he’s this way with all the younger Mandalorians.

“I need to speak with her--it’s urgent.”

Imalia tilts her head to the side and you feel small underneath her intimidating gaze, despite the fact that she’s apparently younger than you; she must be inspecting you closely and you suddenly wish you had the opportunity to take a shower before leaving your house. You can still feel all the dried blood matted to your scalp and crusted into your hairline and you’re certain Ima must see it as well.

“Tion'jor an te tal?” Ima questions in a much quieter tone and you flinch severely when her hand moves to touch one of your braids, though she is quick to pull her hand away, turning sharply to gaze up at Paz instead; her voice sounds much graver and sadder when she speaks again, “Vaii cuyir te sarad gar rucuyir cyau'kuyc at dinuir kaysh? Cuyir te baar'ur shupur'yc?”

“It’s a long story,” He says in Basic, something you’re grateful for as the colorful Mandalorian, slowly takes her seat back on the stone ledge, grabbing her long spear once more as Paz continues, “It’s all Djarin’s fault. He came after her because of the vulptex.”

“That damn bounty hunter--no wonder why he was so tense when he came back earlier,” Ima sighs, shaking her head as though this is a common occurrence within the tribe and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, “I’m surprised he’s even alive still; I’m starting to think he has only one brain cell left.”

“Not for much longer,” Paz huffs, fingers twitching against the thick fabric of your long sweater and you let him guide you through the large entrance into another tunnel, “The runt is dead the moment I see his sorry ass.”

The teenager doesn’t seem all the fazed by Paz’s foreboding words, watching as you two venture further into the enclave, “I don’t doubt it.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to catch one last glimpse at Ima’s beautiful green helmet, “It was nice meeting you, Ima.”

“You as well, saviin’ika,” You can hear the smile in her modulated voice, warm and syrupy sweet, and your heart melts at her next words, “I look forward to seeing more of you, rather than hearing it from ori kebiin’s annoying mouth.”

Despite the long day you’ve experienced and everything that’s happened with your father, you smile tiredly at her and face forward as Paz lets out with another annoyed sigh, grumbling something so low that you can’t make it out from underneath his helmet. 

He continues straight down the dim tunnel that is barely lit and your eyes widen as he leads you through another rounded entrance that has some sort of huge insignia welded to the top; you think it almost resembles a Mandalorian helmet with horns coming out the side and you make a mental note to ask Paz about it later.

Paz hums thoughtfully as he inspects his surroundings, looking for something--or someone--in particular; you take in your surroundings curiously, detaching yourself from the distracted Mandalorian to make your way over to a little workbench that seems to have discarded scraps of metal. Not wanting to be rude by touching someone else’s belongings, you simply observe all the scuffed and rusted Beskar, though something in particular catches your attention.

You force yourself not to reach out to touch the little pendant that resembles the one welded above the entrance of the forge, though something about the faded purple horns intrigue you more than you’d like to admit

“I thought we agreed not to take in your nurse until we got our bounty hunter’s vote,” A smooth, demure voice instantly startles you and you quickly turn around to come face to face with a Mandalorian who is slowly and surely entering the armory, her gaze fixated on you in an intense manner, “It is not like you to go against my word, Paz. Do you understand that you have put the tribe at risk?”

You eye the thick furs draped along her shoulders, along with the beautiful glimmer of her golden helmet; you think the richness of the gold contrasting against the deep maroon of the rest of her armor is stunning and immediately, you think she must be the leader of the covert. Though she lacks in height, just like you, she makes up for it with a powerful aura of quiet strength and leadership and you immediately admire her. 

Though you’re terribly nervous, you’ve never wanted to make such a good first impression with someone and you shakily speak up before Paz can, his helmet jolting to the side to gaze at you with what you’re certain is surprise.

It seems as though you’ve been doing that a lot lately--surprising everyone, including yourself.

“He wanted to wait as well,” You inform her, awkwardly skittering forward when she pulls out a chair for you to sit on, seeming to understand your exhaustion after a long day, “I… I was brought here because of the circumstances of today.”

“And what were the circumstances, little one?” She questions smoothly, her voice like rich velvet through her vocoder as she grabs a small metal mug from a shelf and a teapot that must already be filled with hot water; immediately, Paz starts to speak in an angered tone, but she is quick and calm to interrupt his hasty words as she pours hot water over a bundle of herbs, “I believe I asked your nurse, warrior, not you.”

“Thank you,” You whisper your gratitude when she makes her way back to you and kindly places a steaming mug filled with something that smells simultaneously sweet and spicy, “I haven’t had a warm drink in a while.”

“I know,” She informs you and your eyes widen in fear at the thought of Paz telling everyone in the covert about your father; anger fills you just for the tiniest moment before the armorer is squashing your worries like a bug beneath her boot, “I know only of what our heavy-infantry warrior has informed us about you, though he has spoken nothing of your personal life or family. It is unfortunate that you do not wear our helmet, little nurse, for it is quite easy to read the pain and suffering in your eyes. You may be younger than I, but you have lived a lifetime already, have you not?”

Your nostrils flare as you struggle to swallow the lump in your throat when you realize the wisdom this woman possesses, “I have felt enough pity for one lifetime as well, I do not wish to feel it anymore from myself or anyone else.”

She glances up at Paz, who has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you closely, before her gaze is once again fixated on you taking a tentative sip of the flavorful tea; she cocks her head to the side, as if intrigued, and you hope that you are making a decent impression, “Very well. Tell me of the circumstances that have led you here today, little one.”

So, you do.

Paz pulls up a tiny chair that creaks underneath his weight and sits off to the side as you reluctantly relay the story of you and the bounty hunter--how you had willingly taken that blaster shot to save your vulptex, how you had been forced to cauterize your wound, how many times you tried to mention Paz’s name, though the hunter refused to listen. You think it’s taking everything out of Paz to not immediately go searching for his fellow Mandalorian, but he remains seated, his visor fixed on you and his fingers curled into tight fists atop his armored thighs. 

As soon as you mention the speeder and the barren lands, you see Paz straightening up, his breath hitching in his throat as you speak of the deal with the Trandoshan and how the bounty hunter hadn’t hesitated to trade you in for a pouch of credits.

How you had begged the hunter not to hand you over because the Trandoshan only held cruel intentions towards you.

Somehow, you manage not to cry the entire time, but as soon as you speak of the vibroblade Paz had given you--how you were barely able to keep a good grip on the handle because of how bloody your hand was--tears spring to your eyes. You squeeze the hot mug between your hands firmly, trying your hardest to take comfort in the warmth it brings your cold body.

Against your better judgment, you decide to leave the Trandoshan’s intentions as far away from the story as you possibly can, not wanting to inform Paz of how close he’d been to slipping his hands underneath your dress.

You know that would be the one detail of your story that would leave him completely unhinged.

You squeeze your eyes shut just as you maneuver around the painful topic, “Throat wounds are usually the most deadly and I… I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off of me and I had to take his life. I cannot stop thinking of the noises he made when I--and he was choking on his own blood and it got all over me and I never had to--”

“Ner cyare,” Paz’s voice sounds thick with emotion as you stare down at your lap in shame, not noticing the way the armorer is still gazing intensely at you, “I didn’t know you had to... Maker, that’s where all the blood came from?”

“You did what you must to survive in such a cruel place,” The armorer seems to have better words to say than Paz and you think he must be caught in an intense war of anger towards his brother or sadness because you had lost a piece of yourself, “Though I can only imagine the turmoil one so innocent would be going through after experiencing something so traumatic. Please, continue if you can.”

You’re not sure how you manage to speak with how shaky you’ve become, but surrounded by two powerful warriors, you want to be stronger, “I-I immediately went into shock because there was so much blood--Maker, there was so much blood--and I just froze and he fell forward on top of me. I was too weak at the moment to push him off and I passed out in the sun. When I woke up hours later, my skin was burning but I was able to get the Trandoshan off of me finally.”

You find it difficult to look at either one of them, so your gaze flickers up to the little horns on the armorer’s helmet as you take another sip of tea before continuing, “I… I passed out again; I don’t know why I was so tired, but when I woke up again, it was night time and the bounty hunter had come back for me and was taking Paz’s blade from my hand. He asked me who I got the weapon from and as soon as I said Paz, I could tell he regretted everything.”

The armorer speaks after Paz lets out an infuriated growl, standing up to his most intimidating size, though the female Mandalorian feels no sort of fear as she speaks only to you, “And do you truly feel as though our bounty hunter felt sorry for what he did to you?”

You sit up a little straighter and stare right into her visor, thinking hard about your response before answering out loud, though you can tell Paz is seething and vibrating with rage.

“I think he felt sorry for hurting someone who was precious to Paz, but not that I was protecting something I considered dear to me,” You inform her in an earnest, hushed tone, making her cock her helmet to the side a little, “I think he was just a man doing his job as a bounty hunter, but he was also cruel to me. When I tried to tell him that I knew Paz, he would make me be quiet and told me that whatever I had to say did not matter.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly brush away the tears at your lashes as you continue, “He almost made me believe the stories that my parents used to tell me of Mandalorians, but I know Paz enough to know the stories aren’t true. I’ve only known Imalia--Ima--for a few minutes, but she treated me kindly and I do not wish to believe that everyone in your tribe could be so cruel, especially when you and her have shown me respect.”

“And how have I shown you respect when all I’ve done is given you the opportunity to tell me your story, little one?”

“I think that is one of the kindest ways you can treat another--to allow them to speak up for themselves without judging them,” Warmth spreads through your cheeks and ears as you take another sip of your sweet, spicy tea and you gaze shyly at the armorer, “I know my voice shakes when I am scared or angry and that I cry more than I probably should, but you and Paz and even Ima have shown me more respect than anyone else I’ve met in the last decade. Even if I was not accepted, I am grateful to see that love and kindness has lived underneath this cruel village for so long.”

The armorer stares at you in an unwavering manner and you fear the worst when she slowly turns her helmet to gaze up at Paz, who’s still staring intently at you, and she almost sounds amused as she turns to you once again, “It seems as though our heavy-infantry warrior was correct when he informed us all that it is impossible to dislike you.”

“I only wish to treat others the same way I would like to be treated,” You smile at the thought of your grouchy Mandalorian giving you such high praise about you to his family and you curl your fingers against your knees, “I apologize that this is the way I was introduced to you--all bloody and still shaken up.”

Her head tilts to the side in a curious manner, “Our tribe’s bounty hunter was careless and hurt you, yet you are the one apologizing?”

“It was my fault for--”

“Do not feel sorry or at fault for this, cyare,” Paz insists and you finally look up at him as he speaks through clenched teeth, “Where is Djarin, ner alor? I will have him begging for forgiveness at her feet the second I see him--I want him to suffer for what he did to her!”

The armorer lets out with a tired sigh and she shakes her helmet a little as you timidly finish off your tea, watching the altercation take place over the rim of your mug, “Our bounty hunter is currently asleep in his quarters, just as you two should be.”

Paz refuses to back down and you fear that he’s actually going to kill his fellow Mandalorian as his deep baritone grows louder and more infuriated, “I want to kill him, I don’t care that he is currently resting. He is a coward and--”

“Your little healer is exhausted and afraid,” The armorer reminds him firmly, standing up to her full height and you realize her true power when Paz recoils a little, “She is in a new place, surrounded by people she has never met and it has been a long day for her. Would you be so cruel and selfish to deny her relaxation after witnessing such trauma? The nurse is about to fall out of her chair, and yet you only wish to seek violence when she has already seen too much of it in her lifetime.”

“I didn’t--” Paz’s helmet jolts a little as he gazes intensely at you, though you offer him a weak, tired smile, “I am sorry, ner cyare, I was not thinking properly.”

“It’s okay,” You shake your head a little as you slowly stand, your hand traveling to the cauterized wound at your hip; and Paz is instantly at your side when you keel over a little bit in pain, “Although it would be nice to um, to maybe get all of this blood out of my hair?”

“Negotiations for the nurse’s future with the tribe will continue tomorrow,” The armorer stands tall, somehow exuding more power and grace than your blue warrior, “In the meantime, she will recover and rest for as long as she requires.”

“Th-Thank you,” Paz gently presses his hand to the small of your back as you offer your gratitude to the tribe’s matriarch, “For everything.”

She simply offers you a curt nod and watches as Paz dutifully takes you to his private quarters. 

The enclave is a lot quieter than you would have expected and you think they must have some sort of system when it comes to training and sleeping; you have so many questions, but you don’t want to sound too nosy, so you remain silent during the small journey. Your eyelids feel incredibly heavy as he quietly guides you and you pray the Mandalorian doesn’t think too differently after hearing your story--that he doesn’t see you to be any less of yourself for being forced to steal someone’s life.

He’s still tense as he wraps an arm around your waist to help you descend another staircase leading even deeper into the enclave and you hate that you are a part of the reason why he’s so angry and upset. You hate his moody silence, knowing that he’s normally so talkative with you and could probably carry a conversation with himself if it meant you had his full interest.

Tiredly, you make it your own little mission to distract him from his inner turmoil and gently grab his yellow gauntlet once the two of you make it to the bottom of the staircase. His helmet jolts to the side to gaze down at you as you hold his forearm to your stomach, your fingers barely grazing the slim barrel attached to the top of his gauntlet.

You smile up at his visor, whispering out a meek little, ‘I love you.’

Instantly, he stops walking to lean down to press his forehead against yours and warmth settles over your heart similarly to the way his cape around your cold frame brings you comfort and security.

Immediately, he relaxes his tense muscles and lets out a deep sigh, “I love you too, cyare.”

You observe your dark surroundings closely as he leads you past what seems to be several different alcoves that you assume must be the living quarters for other Mandalorians, the entrances to them covered by thick black fabric. You’re surprised when he guides you past them and around a corner where there’s a stone door straight at the end of the corridor; you wonder if he has a bigger room than everyone else because of his status or ranking within the tribe, though you think it rude to ask and simply follow him into his dimly lit quarters.

You’re surprised to find that it’s far bigger than your little hut and you take in all the new surroundings with curiosity.

You keep your hands clasped tightly together, feeling awkward as you watch the warrior calmly make his way to a huge chest on the floor at the foot of his massive bed, seeming utterly relaxed as he begins to remove his big gauntlets and black gloves. placing them inside the large chest. You almost think he’s forgotten about you until he stands up again and purposely wanders back to you, immediately intertwining his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle tug.

“You must be dying for a shower,” He sighs softly, leading you further into his private quarters and through a small alcove protected by black drapes; your cheeks burn hotter than coals when you think of how easy it would be for him to easily invade your privacy, though you know him to be a respectful man, “The water doesn’t always get the warmest, but I’m sure it will be nicer than whatever you had at your home.”

You perk up when you see the big shower and dozens of little holes in the ceiling where the water must fall from, “We had a sonic shower at the infirmary. I’ve never used a real one with actual water.”

The blue warrior stares at you for a few moments before shaking his head a little; he digs through your small canvas bag, pulling out the jars that contain your hair products, as well as your bar of soap. You watch with curiosity as he opens the glass door the shower and places your stuff on a small shelf next to his own belongings and it finally hits you that you are actually at his covert with him and not your measly little hut with a man who hates you.

Paz twists a metal knob a few times around, causing a soft whirring noise, followed by fat droplets of water to fall from the holes in the ceiling and your eyes widen a little at the sight.

“Take as long as you want,” He gently orders in a cool rasp, stroking your bruised cheek with the utmost care and immediately, you turn your head to kiss his palm, earning you a little sigh from him, “I’ll go get some food for you while you shower.”

He turns to leave you alone, but your curiosity gets the better of you and you awkwardly speak up in his native tongue, “Ori kebiin--”

Immediately, the Mandalorian freezes, his back facing you as you speak the strange words that the guard had spoken earlier, “That’s what Ima said, right? I know you told me that saviin’ika means violet and I heard her say that, but what does ori kebiin mean? Is it your title in the tribe?”

“I--It’s just--” Paz seems to hesitate for a few moments before you hear him let out with a frustrated groan, “It is what many of the younger ones in the tribe refer to me as; it means big blue. When I told you that saviin’ika only meant violet, I lied to you, cyare. Saviin means violet, but ‘ika means little.”

“Big blue and little violet?” You murmur, cheeks burning more intensely than any severe sunburn could possibly inflict on you as the warmth spreads to the tip of your ears, “That’s what she was so--”

“It’s nothing,” He huffs a little and rolls his head a little, the joints in his neck cracking from the tension that comes with a long day, "The younger ones in the tribe keep teasing me about you because they know they can get away with it."

You nod and quietly ask him one last question before he can leave, "Where is my vulptex? You said she was here, right?"

Paz chuckles a little as you frantically voice your concerns aloud, now that the two of you are safe and alone, "She is most likely in the nursery with the little ones. She has been fed and taken care of all day, cyare, please do not worry about anyone other than yourself right now. I’ll be out there if you need anything, just call if you need help."

You smile and give him one last 'thank you’ as he leaves you to wash yourself. Slowly and tiredly, you peel your clothes from your bruised and bloodied body and excitedly make your way into the shower.

A gasp nearly leaves you upon feeling the warm water gently pelt against your skin and you smile a little as you tilt your head backwards and let the water loosen the dried blood from your hair. A content sigh escapes you as you remove your metal cuffs from the tails of your braids and you place them on a little stone shelf next to yours’ and Paz's toiletries before getting to work on gently washing your mane, taking your time to make sure all the blood is removed.

You do everything in your power to not pay attention to the pink swirl of water that runs around the big drain in daunting circles. 

Instead, you focus on the scent of your comforting floral shampoo or the spicy, woodsy scent of your warrior’s toiletries as you curiously bring the bar of soap to your nose to smell it.

You're not sure how long you're under the warm spray of water, your eyelids threatening to slip shut, but eventually, you're finally clean and ridden of any proof that you've stolen a life. Reluctantly, you shut the water off and step out onto a furry mat, grabbing a towel that's neatly folded next to your canvas bag. As you dry yourself, making sure not to jostle your injured hip too much, you realize just how much better you already feel now that you're clean.

It’s only once you’ve put on your nightgown that you risk a glance at the little mirror that hangs above the sink and immediately freeze. You look exhausted, you realize as you stare at your wide-eyed expression with sadness and defeat, your eyes filled with the same kind of intense emotion that would be in a young warrior’s eyes upon coming back from war. Hastily, you turn your attention to your hair, carefully combing out all the knots with the comb that Paz had dutifully tucked into the canvas bag for you.

When you brush through your hair for what must be the hundredth time, you realize you’re only delaying the inevitable--him seeing your arms and the rest of your body so exposed in your nightgown, along with all the scars and welts displayed across parts of your arms and shoulders that he’s never seen before.

‘He is a warrior,’ You remind yourself fiercely, nervously tucking a wet lock of hair behind the curve of your ear as you muster up the courage to sweep the thick curtain to the side, ‘He is used to scars and he’s told you countless times that he doesn’t mind them.’

Your nerves are at an all time high as you spot your Mandalorian in the tiny kitchenette in his private quarters, setting a wooden bowl down onto the table and you tiredly smile as he places a small spoon next to it.

“Thank you for letting me use your shower.”

Paz turns around and freezes upon meeting your gaze with his black visor; you can feel water dripping onto the thin satin material of your dress, as well as down your neck and you blink with curiosity as he remains glued to his spot in front of the little table that you realize is next to a stone furnace. He’s holding a bowl with steam dancing along the surface and your mouth instinctively waters when you catch a whiff of all the spices and unfamiliar scents of the savory meal. Behind him, you see a small piece of bread and another bowl filled with vibrant fresh fruit and you feel your heart clench at the mere thought of eating something sweet.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me for everything,” He kindly informs you, pulling out a chair as an invitation to sit down as he sets the bowl on the table, “It is... nice to see you looking more like your normal self already.”

You smile warmly at him and take a seat as the Mandalorian begins to disarm his heavy weapons and equipment, placing them in a safe spot near his massive bed where they are readily accessible, should danger dare threaten him. You nervously fiddle with the wet ends of your clean hair as your knee bounces frantically, watching him as he begins to slowly remove his armor, starting with his pauldrons as he carefully places them in that large chest at the foot of his bed.

His helmet turns and he immediately notices your hesitation to eat the food he’s laid out for you, “You... You can help yourself, cyare. I have already eaten and I can tell you’re hungry.”

You politely murmur a quiet ‘thank you’, not noticing the way his shoulders drop a little as you finally pick up the spoon to eat, your stomach growling more intensely than a rabid beast. Tucking a leg underneath yourself, you tentatively blow on the steaming spoonful of delicious looking stew before bringing it to your mouth and before you can fully register all the different spices, your taste buds explode.

Paz nearly chuckles upon watching your eyes slowly close as you experience all the different flavors for the first time, “I’m going to shower while you eat.”

“Mhm,” You simply hum, barely aware of him shaking his head in an amused manner as you practically ignore him, focusing only on the well-seasoned stew as he makes his way to the refresher. 

You’re slightly sad when your spoon inevitably scrapes the bottom of the wooden dish, but excitement fills you when you remember the bowl of fruit that had been left for you. The berry you pick up is a deep shade of purple and covered in white streaks and you slowly let it slip between your lips, your shoulders falling when you bite into the berry, causing tart juice to explode in your mouth.

You’re not sure how long you must be savoring the fruit for, but eventually, your Mandalorian exits the refresher, completely ridden of all the padding and armor and his visor instantly seeks you out; you’re in the process of licking juice off your finger when your eyes dart upwards to find him standing only a few feet away from you. 

Immediately you freeze, eyes wide as he walks around with his scarred torso completely bared to you, his black sleep pants slung low on his hips and you find it nearly impossible to look away from the rich brown skin that he’s choosing to expose to you for the first time. The muscles of his shoulders and arms are more defined than his soft chest and stomach and you think he must carry most of his strength in those powerful arms, what with being his tribe’s heavy-infantry warrior.

You’re grateful that he’s not touching your cheeks or ears, that way he can’t truly tell how flustered you are. Instead, he dutifully retrieves an extra fur that’s folded in one of the drawers off to the side, only turning to meet your gaze once he’s done covering his mattress in the warm material.

He must take your wide-eyed expression the wrong way, because he almost sounds afraid when he quietly speaks up, “What? You do not wish to see me like this? Are you uncomfortable?”

Immediately, you abandon your fruit and stand up to approach him, “I think you are beautiful, Paz.”

He scoffs a little, but accepts a warm embrace from you as you rest your cheek against his sternum and hook your arms underneath his armpits so you can lay your hands atop his defined shoulder blades. Instantly, his arms are wrapped tightly around your own shoulders and he holds you close to his warm chest where you can feel his heart thumping against your ear like a beacon of power and strength.

“That is my line,” He murmurs, and your lips stretch into a tired smile against his soft skin, the dark curls loosely splayed along his chest are coarse as they tickle your cheek, though you don’t mind at all, “Besides, I thought you once said you would not dare to feed my ego anymore than you already have.”

You close your eyes, taking comfort in the deep rumbling of his chest and voice as you feel his heart thrum powerfully and frantically against your eardrum, “Something makes me think your ego is not as massive as I once thought it to be.”

He scoffs, but simply holds you close to him and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt such comforting skin on skin contact like this; his huge arms simultaneously acting as a heater and a shield. He hums when you let out a relieved sigh, your warm breath fanning across his sternum as he shivers a little and brings a hand up to gently rub the back of your head, not caring that your hair is still dripping wet and getting onto his own chest.

“Sweetheart,” His chest rumbles as he speaks and your eyes flicker up to meet his visor, “We are both exhausted, it is time for us to rest, I think. Besides, I would much rather hold you like this in my bed.”

You smile and nod a little, watching as he stands tall and moves to turn off all the lights in the dim room. Hesitantly, you make your way underneath the thick furs that are draped on top of the mattress and as you let your head rest on top of a soft pillow, you fear that you will simply sink right through it, as you’ve never rested on something so pliable. Once it’s pitch black in the room and you feel the weight of his warm body dipping in the mattress next to you, you turn over onto your side to face him, despite not being able to see him in the slightest.

Immediately, your mind goes into overdrive as you think of what you’re supposed to do--what he expects from you--and you nearly jump when you feel the gentle weight of his palm carefully resting on top of your sunburnt cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking the tail of your brow. You’re not sure if you should move closer to him or what you should do with your hands as he moves the tiniest bit closer to you. Thinking of the Trandoshan and how you'd been pinned underneath his lifeless body for so long, you suddenly crave to feel his heartbeat and you scoot closer to the man that feels more like a furnace.

He doesn't say a word as he moves so he's on his back and lifts a big arm above his head, patiently waiting as you find a comfortable position to rest your head. Finally, after a few awkward seconds of the two of you fumbling around in the dark, your head finds its home on his chest, your cheek pressed against a thick, raised scar and you close your eyes with a soft smile. His arm comes down from above his head to hold you closer to him, his other hand moving to continue its previous ministrations on your cheeks and lips as you rest your palm above his heart.

You’re half asleep when you feel a crooked finger press up against the underside of your jaw, guiding your head upwards slightly and you gasp when you feel something warm and plush kiss the top of your hair.

You’re utterly unfamiliar with the sensation of being kissed, but when you feel the same pressure against your forehead, followed by an unmodulated sigh and warm breath fanning across your face, you realize the warrior has broken part of his sacred code.

He took his helmet off for you.

“P-Paz, you--” Your voice trembles and you feel his lips quirk into a smile against the brow he’s currently kissing before he moves to the bridge of your nose, “Your helmet!”

“What about it, sweetheart?”

You feel at a loss for words at the sound of his unfiltered voice and he lets out with a small chuckle at your intense reaction, humming softly against your skin as he squeezes you a little tighter.

“Can you see my face?” He questions softly against the apple of your cheek, and you shiver at the sound of his smooth baritone in the raw; when you answer him with a weak little ‘no’, he continues with amusement evident in his unfiltered voice, “Then I have not brought dishonor to my tribe or you.”

“Are you sure?”

He huffs out a small chuckle against the tip of your nose and you smile at how different his laughter sounds without his helmet--much lighter and less crackly--and you cling onto his warm voice as he firmly rubs the stress away from your shoulders and cradles your jaw with his other hand. After being handled so roughly and grossly by the Trandoshan, his tender hands fill your aching heart with love and relief; your eyelids slowly slip shut when you feel him move his torso a little off the bed so he can kiss your chin.

“I am positive, sweet nurse.”

Shyly, you lift your hand from his chest and rest it on the side of his neck as he lightly nuzzles his nose into the damp hair that’s just a little above the tip of your ear, seeming to feel no shame as he inhales the scent of your shampoo and conditioner.

You shiver when he presses another kiss into your hair and you speak up as your hand slowly inches up his neck, feeling all the little scars and veins that are prominent, along with the way his Adam’s apple shifts up and down when you graze past it, “Am I allowed to touch your face?”

He hums and moves his head to kiss all the areas on your face that he previously missed--the corners of your eyes, the spot between your brows, as well as the sides of your nose--but he ultimately decides to venture to the corner of your lips, “You may do whatever you wish to me.”

Your face grows hot as he captures your earlobe between his thumb and index finger, a large grin spreading across his lips when he feels the intense warmth on the pad of his fingers, and you shyly continue your ascent up to his face. The first thing you feel is a coarse beard and you nearly jump away from him when the wiry hair tickles and scratches against your sensitive palms; it feels neatly trimmed, cropped just a few inches underneath his smooth cheekbones and you think he must take great care to not slack with his daily hygiene or grooming.

Before you can make it to his nose, the massive warrior sighs against the corner of your lips and speaks in the most wistful tone you think you’ve ever heard--

“May I kiss you properly now, cyare?”

You freeze, completely caught off guard by his words as you hesitantly lift your head from his chest, aiming your gaze in the direction where you think his eyes must be as he reluctantly drops his head back against the pillow. His fingers tense along your sore shoulder blade and you fear that he must feel that he’s done something wrong because of your hesitation, but as you manage to turn and move until your chest is pressed against his, you shyly explore his plump lips with your fingertips.

Curiosity gets the better of you at the thought of exploring his lips with yours and you lower your head and use your hands to guide your lips to his in the darkness of his room.

Immediately, you soften against him, your palms cradling his scratchy cheeks as you shyly kiss him and you're surprised at how warm and soft his lips are against yours.

You can’t help but to grin a little at the deep groan he lets out when he seems to realize that you’re actually kissing him.

Tilting your head a little to the side, you find it easier to kiss him the way you wish and you feel Paz completely relax underneath the tiny weight of your body as you fully press your lips against his, the side of your nose lightly bumping against his. You can smell the minty scent of his own shampoo mixed with the woodsiness of his body wash and you think it intoxicates you as he reaches up to cup the back of your head to keep you from straying too far from his tender lips. 

A small whimper escapes you when his teeth graze your bottom lip and you feel lighter and bereft of all thought when you reluctantly pull away from each other, feeling like a night sky without her moon and you can’t stop yourself from stealing another kiss, earning another soft noise from the surprised man. 

Your heart pounds a little faster when you feel his hand dip down to your waist to carefully hike you further up his body so he doesn’t have to lift his head as much and you smile as you bring your hands up to cup his scruffy cheeks; as your thumbs graze his cheekbones, you’re delighted to find that they are just as warm as your own. You’re practically laying on top of him, though he doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your body in the slightest as he holds you close to him.

Paz makes a small humming noise as he gently rubs a large hand up and down your back, continuing to kiss the corners of your lips and cheeks with fervor even when you pull away for air; you close your eyes in bliss, unfamiliar with the affection, but also basking in his warmth--his love.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

He whispers the unfamiliar words several times against your warm skin and you think he must be telling you the sweetest words, what with how quiet and soft he’s grown underneath you and your curiosity immediately gets the better of you.

“What does that mean?” 

“In Mando’a, it means ‘I hold you in my heart forever’,” He explains, teeth grazing your sensitive jawline before moving upwards to steal another kiss from your grinning lips, “It is our way of telling another that we love them.”

You think it sounds far more beautiful than those other simple three words but you let the warrior kiss your lips as many times as he wishes, thinking that perhaps he’s never been this intimate with another. Also because you’ve never been showered with such affection and you think receiving it from Paz is one of the most beautiful phenomenons you’ve ever experienced.

"Your lips still taste like fruit," He informs you as his lips graze your jawline before moving to your ear, "I wonder if the rest of you tastes so sweet."

The gruffness of his tone combined with the way his teeth gently nip at your lobe has you feeling as though you're going to pass out or spontaneously combust. Shyly, you tuck your head firmly underneath his chin, your sunburned cheeks feeling even hotter as the warrior's chest rumbles with a deep laugh.

“I think you only wished to have me here so you can torment me,” You whisper against his bare neck, earning another chuckle from your Mandalorian as he continues to rub your spine in a comforting manner, “I don’t think I mind this kind of torment though. I would not mind having this every night, if you and your people were so kind to allow it.”

“They will,” He murmurs, squeezing you tighter to him, “Please, cyare, rest your eyes. You have had a long day, but you are safe with me now.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and contentment as your eyelids slowly slip shut, exhaustion overtaking your body as he continues to gently press tender kisses to your cheeks and brows until you fall into a strange sleep where you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. You have nightmares of the Trandoshan’s body pinned against yours, as well as sweet dreams of spending the rest of your days underneath such tender care of your Mandalorian.

You’re in a strange limbo of intense nightmares and delightful dreams, but Paz seems to wake up whenever you whimper or let out with a small cry, reminding you in a hushed whisper that you are somewhere safe with him, rather than the infirmary or your hut. It’s not until you feel him stroking the tail of your brow that you fully fall into a peaceful sleep with visions of blue Beskar and strong arms.

You barely wake up with a quiet whimper hours later when you feel him lightly shuffling your body off of his before speaking in a soft, raspy whisper, “I must leave now for negotiations, cyare. You stay here and rest, okay? I shouldn’t be too long.”

“M’kay,” You blearily hum, nuzzling your face into the pillow that smells like Paz and you’re only slightly aware of the way he gives you one last kiss against your brow before he leaves you to put his armor and helmet on and begin his duties for the day.

You don’t sleep for too much longer, finding that Paz has taken all the warmth with him, even with the plush, thick fur that covers your body. You stare up at the ceiling for a few until you hear the covert slowly come alive, metal scraping against metal and loud shouts in an alien language followed by ringing laughter. Feeling slightly lazy and useless, you decisively get out of the comfortable, massive bed and make your way into the refresher, preparing yourself for what you think might be a long, strange day.

It feels bizarre seeing your hair without its flowers and a part of you wonders if Paz still has the flowers you gave him; perhaps you would still be able to plant them and grow some more, you ponder hopefully.

After you finish your typical morning routine, choosing to leave your hair without your usual braids, you throw on your leggings and sweater before cautiously poking your head out the door. You’re surprised to find the corridor empty and slowly leave Paz’s quarters, despite his insistence on you resting.

Curiosity has you nervously wringing your hands together as you make it to the staircase that Paz had led you down the previous night, and you jump a little upon hearing loud cheering and the shrill sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other. After finally making it up the stairs, you tentatively head in the direction that the ruckus is coming from.

It’s not until you hear Paz’s infuriated baritone of a voice that you make haste to the armory, barely remembering how to get there. Eventually, you round a corner and nearly freeze upon seeing several armored Mandalorians surrounding what appears to be some sort of altercation in front of the forge and you immediately sigh when you see a blue helmet right in the center of it. 

You spot Ima, who seems to stand out from the others with her bright armor and you perk up a little as you approach her.

“Ima,” You say her name just loud enough for her to hear over the a loud shriek of metal being scraped, successfully gaining her attention as she turns to face you, “What’s going on?”

“See for yourself,” She sounds slightly amused and you allow her to place a hand on your shoulder, urging you between her and another huge Mandalorian that barely cocks his helmet to look down at you, “Your ori kebiin verd is fighting for your honor, though I don’t think Djarin is putting up much of a fight.”

You gasp upon seeing the bounty hunter from the previous day crumbled to the ground on his knees, Paz’s hand curled into the thick material of his cowl to hold him up properly.

“How many credits did you deem her life worthy of?!” Paz roars and you instantly freeze, thinking you’ve never heard him this infuriated, even towards your father, “Tell me you fucking hu’tuun! Tell me how many credits you were given in exchange for an innocent, precious life!”

“Five hundred,” The bounty hunter rasps, sounding weak and terribly injured underneath all the Beskar and your instincts have you stepping forward, though Ima is quick to ground you in place with a hand on your shoulder; she simply shakes her head when you peer up at her.

“Five--you gave her away for five hundred credits?!” You feel frozen as Paz forces him to his feet and drags him over to the forge that is now activated, “You only did it because you thought she would be an easy target, didn’t you, Djarin?”

The bounty hunter grunts when Paz forcefully pushes him backwards, slamming his head against the outer rim of the forge before wrapping his fingers around the injured man’s neck and holding his shiny helmet close to the intense flames.

You immediately voice your fears to Ima, who seems unfazed, as though this is a common occurrence, “Is Paz going to actually kill him?”

“Nah, this happens all the--” She stops mid sentence upon hearing the bounty hunter’s grunts and groans from the intense, suffocating heat that’s trapped underneath his helmet, though Paz makes no move to let him go, “Actually, he might go through with it this time. If not, Djarin’s definitely going to wish he was dead.”

“What?” Paz scoffs when the bounty hunter begins to thrash a little harder against the warrior’s unwavering grip, the heat most likely becoming more unbearable, “Can’t handle a little heat, vod? I’m sure you’re crying under that damn helmet more than she cried when you forced her to cauterize her own fucking wound.”

“I didn’t--” The bounty hunter sounds like he’s trying to disguise his excruciating pain and you feel your shoulders tense up to your earlobes, hating that you feel sympathy for the man who attempted to trade your life away for such a small price.

“Do you know how many times she tried to tell you?” Paz’s voice drops to a terrifying growl, the noise crackly and you wonder what’s currently going through his mind, “Do you know what she already had to deal with every damn day and you--” Tears fill your eyes at the pain in his next words, “You know what she means to me and you made her too scared to even look at me, hu’tuun. I almost lost her because of my own brother!”

You fear that the bounty hunter has passed out when he doesn’t respond, his body growing limp underneath Paz’s grip, but the warrior continues, “Why don’t I help you with that heat problem, Djarin? Bet you could use a little fresh air.”

You gasp when a large hand moves to the chin of the bounty hunter’s shiny helmet, his fingers curling underneath the lip and you immediately understand what he wants to do.

“You’re going to look her in eyes when you beg for forgiveness at her feet, Din Djarin.”

Translations *this is for all the dialogue between Imalia and Paz*

norac bid Nusujii, ori kebiin=back so soon, big blue?

cuyir ibic gar orikih baar'ur, ba’vodu?=is this your tiny medic, uncle?

Elek=yes (Lek is more casual, like ‘yeah’)

Ni copad at haa'taylir kaysh=I want to see her

Gar liser't chayaikir kaysh guuror ibic=You can't tease her like this

Ni guuror kaysh=i like her

cuyir gar orikih baar’ur ratiin ibic pel=Is your tiny medic always this soft?

tion'jor an te tal?=why all the blood?

vaii cuyir te sarad gar rucuyir cyau'kuyc at dinuir kaysh?=where is the flower you were excited to give her?

cuyir te baar'ur shupur'yc?= is the medic injured?

ner alor=my leader

Then there’s the usual words for nicknames and such:

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Hu’tuun=Coward

Verd=Warrior

Author’s note: Thank you all so much for the kind, supportive words on the last chapter!! Like, literally everyone has been so sweet and so supportive despite me being more inactive than usual and it seriously means the world to me?? Like I said before, I’m so excited to have more time to be active on here and interact with you all much more!! I love you all so much, hope you’re having a wonderful day, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it <33

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @peqchynero​ @haloangel391​ @honestlystop​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @haloangel391​ @awhiskeywithawinchester *As always, if I missed anyone, please let me know ASAP!! 

[petri808]

We’ll Take Back Heaven a Nalu Yakuza Au

1 | 2

—

The moment Lucy left the room, Natsu simply turned and gave a silent look to his lieutenant Gray who nodded back in acknowledgment and left with one of the men. He sat back in his chair, fingers steepled below his chin in thought. Could it really be one of his own men? Some of the lower level guys didn’t always follow the rules, but it was rare for them to utterly disregard them! Oh! That really pissed him off, because they knew better then to test Natsu’s patience. There’s a damn good reason he was able to create such a lucrative gang in the heart of Tokyo when so many others would kill for it. By the age of 21, his father retired and left the position of Oyabun leader to Natsu. But, Natsu wasn’t satisfied with the old way of doing things. This was the 21st century and times must change.

It was well known that the Yakuza traversed a dangerous underworld full of illegalities. Drugs, prostitution, gambling, shake downs and extortion, theft, or in other words the seedier side of society. So that is where Natsu focused his attention. Some of the very first of the changes were to reign in unauthorized violence or any crimes that utilized it. Such a move sent a utter shockwave through the order and those that refused to let go of the old ways were swiftly eliminated to instill an image of power and fear that Natsu Dragneel was not to be messed with. His logic behind the move was simple. Do not do anything that brings attention to the gang and attacking someone on the street for a few yen is a quick way for the authorities to show up. So, in a way, Natsu was lucky it happened to be one of Lucy’s employees and not a random person, because they would have immediately called the police. Though it also brought up another question. Were there other crimes he just hadn’t heard of yet?

“Well, she’s still as feisty as ever, gihi.” Gajeel broke the silence of the room when he returned. “Could’ve cut the sexual tension with a sword.”

Natsu crossed his arms in feigned annoyance. If it were any other underling, they would have received a harsher response, but Gajeel was one of his oldest and trusted friends. “Pfft. I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s a rival, that’s it. You know that.”

“Mmhmm.” Gajeel snickered. “So, now what?”

“Gray started working on finding who it was. I want you to call your contacts at police and see if they’ve had any reports of recent robberies in the area, and if there were, any details we can use to figure out who it might be.”

“Can do boss. Anything else?���

“You think it could one of our own?”

Gajeel looked up for a couple of minutes as if he were running their personnel through his mind. Finally, he rubbed his chin. “There’s a couple of newbies, a bit young and dumb that might be stupid enough to break the rules. I’ll call my contacts first before helping Gray press the men for info. Someone’s gotta know something.”

“Good. You do that and let me know as soon as you get a lead. I want this dealt with as quickly as possible.”

“Gotcha.”

Between Natsu’s two lieutenants and their best men, they interviewed all of the most likely suspects. Gajeel’s police informant let him know that there were a couple other robberies that sounded similar a few blocks away from where Lucy’s employee and client had been accosted. He also learned those two victims gave a similar description of the robber. With the new information, along with other snitches, they narrowed it down within a few days to a low-level street guy in the organization. But unlike Gajeel’s initial hunch, it wasn’t one of the newbies. Instead, the male had been with them for a couple of years now and never caused any problems. In fact, the guy fashioned himself as a smooth talking ladies’ man who supposedly disliked violence. So, it was a bit surprising it was one of the ones they’d least expected.

Gajeel and his men found the man named Bora Prominence laying low at his girlfriend’s apartment after he’d heard the gang was looking for him. Not the smartest move. The woman gave him up without a fight, fearing the Yakuza more than her boyfriend. So, once she’d let them inside, they quickly found Bora hiding in the bathroom and dragged him out.

“It wasn’t me!” Bora screamed as the men beat him to the floor. “You got no proof I did shit!”

Gajeel planted his foot into the small of the man’s back and held him down. “Two of the witnesses saw the tattoo on your face. That’s enough evidence for us.” He growled. “You knew the code and what would happen if you broke it, so stop being a bitch.”

But Bora continued to resist the four men, pushing off the floor with his arms unsuccessfully against Gajeel’s massive weight or fending off kicks from the others. They pummeled him with fists and kicks over and over until one clear blow finally knocked him unconscious long enough to be tied up. Despite a heavy beating bad enough to leave him bruised and bloodied, he continued to scream about his innocence. Back at headquarters, they dragged him into Natsu’s office with hands bound behind his back and forced him onto his knees.

The room held Natsu sitting at his desk, along with both lieutenants, four of their men keeping Bora restrained, and lastly Lucy with the victim to Natsu’s right side. He had contacted her as soon as he knew the suspect was being brought in. And thought they were pretty certain of guilt, the woman’s immediate reaction when they’d brought Bora in of cringing back and moving closer to her boss spoke volumes.

“Is that him?” Natsu questioned to gain a verbal confirmation.

“Y-Yeah,” the woman squeaked out. “He’s the one who pushed me down and robbed us.”

Natsu’s eyes stayed narrowed and glaring at Bora as he addressed the women. “Thank you, that’ll be all. Heartfilia you both can leave now I’ll handle things from here.”

“You’re a doll,” Lucy giggled and gave Natsu a quick teasing peck on the cheek before ushering her employee away. They’d done what they needed to do, now it was his job to finish it.

“Tch, so that’s what this is all about.” Bora sneered, spitting out a clot of blood. “Cause that bitch got you all worked up over a measly few bucks?”

“Watch it!” Natsu roared. “It ain’t a good idea to piss me off anymore then I already am!” There was a fire burning behind Natsu’s stare because when he looked at this man Bora, he doesn’t see the crimes themselves, but the disobedient threat he posed to their organization. How dare this selfish ignorant punk threaten everything they’ve worked hard to build! And to accuse him of weakness in doing Lucy’s bidding just sealed the man’s fate.

Bora snapped back defiantly, though the crack in his tone gave away the fear brewing beneath. “What does it matter, I know what awaits me.”

“You’re right.” Natsu relaxed back into his chair once he sensed the man’s inevitable compliance. “You knew the consequences for crossing me. What does it matter if my rival is also benefiting in this way? Because I know there are other victims. Dumbass, how do you think we linked you to all this? Those other victims reported it to the police! Which is exactly why I have the rules I have in place! You put all of us in jeopardy by pulling this kind of stupid low level bullshit!”

“Pfft, you act like we’re saints. If the cops really wanted to, they’d look into the other illegal shit we do regardless.”

“No, it’s you who fails to recognize there is a hierarchy to the kinds of crimes that bring heat on us. Drugs? Prostitution? The cops don’t care as much, but assault? Robbing people, murders, now those are things they will pay attention to, and I will not tolerate it!” Natsu sat forward with a malevolent grin. “Welcome to the modern Yakuza.”

Drugs and prostitution were a part of the gangs dealings, but the bigger scheme was in shaking down the local business owners for protection money. Thing is, Natsu’s gang actually did the protection part causing crimes in that area for customers or businesses to drop down to nearly zero. So, while the business owners weren’t thrilled to cut a portion of their profits, they also appreciated not having to worry about security. That and because of the gangs connections, they had pipelines of cheaper priced products which helped to keep their costs down. This more symbiotic relationship is why they didn’t go to the authorities and why the gang could hold such a control over the area. Making sure the areas streets were protected from violent crime is a testament to the gangs power and would insure that these businesses stayed compliant.

“Tch.” Bora retorted. “You’re just young and dumb. Eventually you’ll realize there’s a reason why things were done a certain way in the old days.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but your days of worrying about it are over.” Natsu motioned to Gajeel. “I’m done. Get him out of my face.”

Gajeel then motioned to his men to haul Bora to his feet and drag him away to an unknown destination never to be seen from again. Cliche as it may sound, even in killing off a problem like Bora, Natsu’s gang didn’t follow tradition. Bora would be held as a prisoner until his wounds healed then his death made to look like just another suicide statistic. In the seven years that Natsu has reigned, not one murder had been laid at their doorstep and he intended to keep it that way.

Now that the Bora business was over, Natsu closed his eyes and fully relaxed into his chair with a sigh. He didn’t exactly enjoy playing the tough guy bit and only did it out of necessity. This was a life his father groomed him for since birth, but he’d love nothing more than to just settle down with a wife and start a family of his own. Not that he couldn’t already do so, but that required finding the right woman to settle down with and no one other than his old flame has ever evoked I’m him more than a passing glance.

He didn’t know how long he’d been relaxing when there was a knock on his office door. “Yeah? Come in.”

“Sorry to disturb you,” the man spoke as he quietly entered the room. Invel Yura was Natsu’s Saiko-kamon, the top advisor and managed the administrative side of the organization. “I wanted to go over your schedule for tomorrow in case I need to make any changes.”

“It’s fine.” Natsu gestured to the chair fronting the desk. Invel had been the advisor to his father for the last few years of his tenure and he fully trusted the man’s diligence.

Invel sat down and opened up a calendar. “Tomorrow morning, we have a new shipment of prescription drugs coming in as well as some ecstasy, so you’ll need to appoint someone to oversee inventory processing.”

“Hmm, who should I have work on this?” Natsu asked for Invel’s opinion.

“Might I suggest Rajeel Ramal? He’s gruff but meticulous and has done a good job so far.”

“Is that so? Then that’s fine, let him continue. What’s next?”

“Okay,” Invel scribbled the orders in his book. “Next, the only other thing you have is a party to attend with one of our high end clients.”

“Which one?”

“The son of Yuuji Katsunuma of Katsunuma industries.”

“Ah yes, the one we supply with cocaine. Such a spoiled brat, but he spends a lot with us.”

Invel chuckled. “That’s the one. It starts at 8pm.”

“Okay. Thank you, Invel. Is that all for now?”

“Yes. If anything, else comes up I will let you know.”

“I’m sure you will. Oh. Have an appropriate suit pressed and ready for me for the occasion.”

“Very well, sir. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No. You may go.”

Invel nodded and returned to his own office. He made a few typical phone calls such as to Natsu’s house staff regarding an evening outfit and the transporters bringing the morning inventory to make sure everything was on schedule. Aside from the Bora issue, the going’s-on of business continued as normal. The final call he placed before he’d leave for lunch was to Rajeel of a simple a five word instruction. Nothing more needed to be said, knowing that his associate would understand. Invel sat back in his chair with a smile. “It’s almost too easy…”

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

When We Were Young (part IX)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ;

Read part IV here ; Read part V here ; Read part VI here ;

Read part VII here ; Read part VIII here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, *moments of assault*

**This chapter contains mentions of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

B/N: I’m getting a little lost in my own timeline, so apologies for any inaccuracies... All mistakes I claim as my own.

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

Cas stood abruptly as Dean came down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was exhausted, but it wasn’t in him to even think about sleeping when a monster was still very much on the loose. Sam remained seated on the couch, his head resting in his hands, looking every bit as exhausted and distraught as Dean felt. From the living room, Dean could see Bobby sitting at his desk nursing a glass of amber liquid, sure to be whiskey of some kind. Dean wanted to stay level headed for the moment, but would no doubt fall asleep with a bottle of his own later. 

“Dean,” Cas nodded toward him, offering him his seat on the couch next to his brother, but Dean waved him off, choosing to stand, crossing his arms over his chest. Cas nodded curtly recognizing that Dean was waiting for him to tell the story. 

“While we were speaking, Dean, I heard a woman’s voice asking God to save her from her pain. As you know, I have never spoken with Y/N and I do not know her, but I felt that she was the woman you, Sam, and Bobby were looking for. And she was in profound pain. So I left without word. I do apologize for that, Dean.” Cas gave Dean his signature sorrowful eyes, head tilt thrown in, and Dean waved him off again, letting him know it was fine and that he should continue. Cas didn’t break eye contact with Dean, and though it unnerved him, he let the man continue to stare while he told the story. 

“When I arrived, I was in some sort of underground dungeon in western South Dakota. The building above was abandoned, but the dungeon was very much operational. I appeared directly in front of the woman who had prayed for me, who I realized had to be Y/N. I introduced myself as Castiel, angel of the Lord, and healed her---” 

Dean held up a hand to stop him abruptly, and Cas shut his mouth instantly. “What kind of wounds did she have, Cas?” Sam looked up at his brother questioningly, and Dean merely shook his head telling him silently to ‘leave it.’ Cas looked uncomfortable with the question, but answered anyway, knowing evading Dean was impossible, when he wanted answers. 

“She was chained up by the wrists, so I healed the burns and scrapes from the shackles. It appeared that she spent a few hours on her knees, so I healed the scrapes and swelling there...” Cas trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t have to continue, and glancing at the older Winchester. Though Dean looked distraught, he motioned for Cas to keep talking. Cas took in a huge breath of air before continuing. 

“She had a few internal injuries that seemed to have come from rough intercourse and I healed those wounds as well.” 

Sam stood to his feet, pacing around the living room with an angry look on his face. When Dean glanced into the office, he saw that Bobby was gone, having walked away when Cas finished his retelling. Sam continued to pace back and forth looking like he wanted to punch someone or something, and Cas looked ashamed and guilty for his side of the situation. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, silently thanking him, and Cas nodded once in response. 

“Do you know where the monster went, Cas?” Sam asked finally, turning to face the two men, his eyebrows creased together in thought. Cas merely shook his head before speaking. 

“I wrapped Y/N in my coat and came instantly back here. I apologize, I should have investigated more, but it didn’t seem like any creature or human was present at the scene when I appeared.” Sam nodded, continuing to pace and Dean clapped Cas on the back again with a quick, “it’s not your fault.” Cas nodded again, when he suddenly became serious, a far-off look in his eye. 

“Y/N is waking up, Dean. I can feel her anxiety.” Dean nodded, leaving the two men and Bobby, wherever he was, to deal with the next steps, as he bounded up the stairs toward where Y/N was. 

---------

When you woke, you realized you recognized the room, but you still felt fear and adrenaline course through your veins, realizing the last thing you remember was being shackled to the ceiling in Greg’s dungeon. You didn’t sit up, but began to sob remembering the day you just had, which felt like a lifetime ago. Though you didn’t feel any pain, the memories of the dungeon were etched permanently into your memory, and you gasped shooting into a sitting position when you remembered what Greg had done to you... What he made you think Dean did to you. Dean. 

As if you had actually called out for him, Dean appeared in the doorway, and you shrunk back some into the bed, your mind screaming at you to run. Dean seemed a bit shocked to see you sitting up in bed, and came toward you slowly. 

“Stop.” You said lowly, but Dean didn’t hear you, taking a few more steps toward you. 

“Stop!” You repeated loudly, hearing heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs in response to your yells. 

“Dean,” You repeated exasperated, needing to find some way to tell that it was really him, despite your body telling you to run far away from him. Sam, Cas, and Bobby appeared at the door, and you relaxed. 

“Can I talk to Sam? Alone.” You spit out, seeing the light go out behind Dean’s eyes. You felt horrible, but he would need to understand, and would fully understand soon, you just needed to talk to someone. Though Castiel would be a good candidate being that he found you, you were leery of the angel as well, especially now as he stared at you with those bright blue eyes. Dean nodded, turning on his heel and ushering the angel and whiskey drunk Bobby away from the door. 

Sam came fully into the room and closed the door behind him, before approaching the bed. Tears began to well in your eyes as you thought about telling Sam the truth of what happened to you, and you launched yourself into his arms, pulling yourself into his lap so you could bury your head into the crook of his shoulder and neck, breathing in the scent of home. Sam wrapped his arms tight around you and held you close to him, finally breathing after hours of worrying. 

In Sam’s firm hold, you let yourself fall apart. “What am I going to do, Sam?” You wailed, sobbing harder thinking about the look on Dean’s face when you essentially kicked him out of the room. You had to find a way to know that he was the real Dean. It should be him comforting you right now, you thought to yourself.

“Tell me what happened, Y/N.” Though it wasn’t a question, Sam’s voice was gentle and even. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll help.” 

You pulled away from him a bit, looking into dark blue eyes, gathering your strength from the younger hunter, who had been through so much in his life as well. 

“He posed as Dean, Sam... He took my worst fears and heightened them to something I could never even imagine.” Sam didn’t look shocked at your confession, but nodded his head, understanding where your confusion was coming from. 

You hiccuped a little controlling your tears for the moment. “Dean would never hurt me.” You stated more to yourself than anything, but you knew mantras and words would never ease the panic you felt deep in your veins when you saw Dean standing in the doorway. 

Sam nodded again understanding, digging in his front pocket. You looked at him questioningly before he spoke. 

“None of us would ever hurt you, Y/N. I know you know this in your soul, but I recognize not being able to convince your mind that Dean isn’t the shifter with what you’ve been through.” He looked at you seriously, and though you saw emotion, none of it was pity, and you thanked him silently with your eyes.

“You don’t have to take only my word, I can show you both your dad, my dad, and Bobby’s journals that confirm, but silver makes a shifters skin burn, much like holy water on a demon.” You looked deep into Sam’s eyes, knowing he would never lie to you, but wanting the confirmation anyway. Seeing that he had your attention, he held up a simple silver ring, looking away guiltily before continuing. 

“When we lost you, I was afraid something like this would happen. That the shifter would pose as someone close to you to hurt you, so I had Bobby find me a silver ring. Wear this, and if you are ever unsure if one of us is a shifter you can simply grab our arms and wait for the sizzle.” He smiled softy when you grabbed the ring and slipped it onto your right hand ring finger, feeling a weight lift off your body a bit, knowing you were that much safer with this on your body. 

“Thank you, Sam.” You responded simply, wrapping one arm around his neck, and the other grabbing his wrist lightly, testing the touch of the silver against his skin. He chuckled under your hold, and you both watched his arm for any sort of reaction, even though you knew there wouldn’t be. You looked satisfied, so he lifted you lightly off of his lap and stood, gesturing toward the door.

“Do you want to test the ring more?” You glanced down at the simple silver circle and nodded, wanting more than anything to be in Dean Winchester’s arms. The real Dean Winchester.

—————

When Sam told Dean that Y/N wanted to see him, he looked skeptical, staring silently at his brother and asking him ‘why now?’ Sam simply pointed toward the stairs and told his brother to “go,” indicating that he would find out soon enough. 

Dean finished the whiskey in his glass in one large gulp, gaining a bit of courage to face the woman who he wanted nothing more than to hold, but had kicked him out moments before. 

Dean looked anxious as he stood in the door, waiting for you to tell him what his next move should be, and you motioned for him to come sit on the bed with you. He hesitated, but stepped forward slowly, like he had before, perching on the very end of the bed, as far away from you as he could get, and still be on the bed. You didn’t blame his hesitation, you had some of your own, as you took in what you needed to be the real Dean Winchester in this moment. Crawling forward hesitantly to sit up on your knees, you pushed Dean’s shoulder so he was facing you, one leg moving up on the bed, and wrapped an arm around his neck, the other gripping lightly at his bare wrist so the ring was touching it, like you had done to Sam. Dean kept his hands to himself for the moment watching you, and you waited for any sign of the sizzle of skin, holding your breath.

When none came you threw yourself at Dean, straddling his lap and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. Dean was frozen for a few seconds, until he let out a breath of air, and wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could mirroring your position and planting a few chaste kisses against your pulse point. You groaned quietly, feeling heat rush through your body and grabbed fistfuls of Dean’s shirt, grounding yourself in the moment. This was Dean, he passed the test, it’s really him. You’re safe.

Dean felt your body begin to shake, and he pulled away, taking your face in his, and you turned and kissed his palm, giving him a small smile, which he returned, eyes filled with tears, grateful that you were in front of him. You leaned forward and kissed his lips, ignoring the way your body lurched back when he reacted and deepened the kiss, running his tongue along your bottom lip. You wanted more than anything for him to help you forget, but you couldn’t take this any further until he understood what had happened. Again. You didn’t have the security of Dean’s room at the bunker, or the darkness to shield you from what you were about to tell the man you loved, but you weren’t worried about the way he would view you. Rather you were scared of how much Dean would beat himself up over what you were about to say. 

You pulled back lightly, licking your lips and savoring the flavor of sweet whiskey and Dean on your mouth. Dean was staring at you intently, almost like he wasn’t believing you were actually here, and you rubbed at his shoulders in response, to remind him that you were real. And you were safe. 

“Dean,” you started, staring into his forest green eyes. “I have to tell you what happened...” You were suddenly hesitant, not knowing how to relive the worst moment of your life. Dean squeezed gently at your hips, letting you know he was there for you, but he spoke up as well. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, baby. Cas told--” 

“I have to tell you my side of the story, Dean. Castiel wasn’t there for it.” You cut him off, and he nodded looking guilty for saying anything. You picked at a loose thread on Dean’s flannel while you found the right words. 

“I had just been sitting on the Impala when he grabbed me, and I woke up in some kind of damp room, shackled to the ceiling.” You had finally found your courage to get it all out and the words were suddenly pouring from your lips, Dean hanging on to every one. 

“He only took off my clothes the first time he visited. But when he came back the second, I knew he was going to take what he wanted. I resisted and he told me that he wanted me to enjoy it as well. And with that he turned into you...” You trailed off, getting emotional now, wrapped up in the moment you looked into the hunter’s green eyes, thinking you were finally being saved. 

“What!” Dean yelled, making you jump. He didn’t move to get up, but you could feel the anger radiating off of him, and he worked hard to contain himself as he waited for you to tell the rest of the story. But you simply placed your head back into the crook of his neck, hoping he could fill in the blanks himself this time. You laid soft kisses along his collarbone, hoping to release the tension in his shoulders, but he was long gone, surely imagining nothing but sinking a knife into Greg. 

You were getting tired as you clung onto Dean, exhausted from the day, and from retelling your story. Your emotions felt out of control, and you wanted nothing more than a deep, dreamless sleep. One that only came from being held by Dean. 

He shifted lightly when he felt you yawn against his neck, and moved to lay you back on the bed, when you grabbed onto his arm. 

“Stay with me.” You stated, peering up at Dean. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly and he nodded, moving to the other side of the bed, and stripped down to his simple black shirt and boxer briefs. He sprawled out on his back, and reached for you, pulling you to lay your head against his chest, where you could hear the comforting thump thump thump of his heart. You were asleep in minutes. 

Dean, however, laid awake, plotting the long, slow torture of the thing that hurt you. 

When We Were Young Tag List: @vicmc624 @woundedxsmile @akshi8278 @supernatural3002

Read Part X here!

[emy-loves-you]

Sweet Tooth

AKA 3 times Patton gave away his lollipops, and one time he took them back.

DLMR (Janus/Logan/Patton/Remus), Patton POV

Word Count: 3,768

Thank you to everyone that helped with this fic (especially @cute-and-angsty-princess for coming up with the original idea!)

Masterlist

The first time was a complete accident.

Patton had always had a love for sweets. Candies specifically. Jellybeans, chocolate bars, gumdrops, you name it. He loved every sugary treat Thomas had ever eaten, and he always had a few candies in his pocket just in case. It’s always a different candy each time. Somedays he’ll have Hershey kisses to eat between recordings, other days he'll have a pack of bubble gum to chew on and blow pretty pink bubbles.

Today, he had lollipops.

Patton vividly remembered these lollipops as a reward for doing his job well. Every time that Thomas did good at the doctor’s office or behaved in certain restaurants, his parents would get him a tiny flavored lollipop to suck on. They were overly sweet and just the right size, and every time Thomas had one Patton would be flooded with happiness because he did a good job.

And Patton felt like he deserved a lollipop today. Thomas had been struggling with a moral dilemma, and Patton had done his best to stand his ground without being pushy. It was difficult for Patton to find the middle ground between compliant and overbearing, but he was getting better at it with Janus’ help.

So here Patton was, sitting on the couch, a green apple lollipop in his mouth. He changed the flavor a little when he summoned it, so it was the perfect mix of sweet and bitter. He also made sure there was enough food coloring in it to stain his lips the prettiest shade of green.

(It had absolutely nothing to do with Remus giving Patton such a dazzling smile when he supported the dark side’s tamer ideas today. And it definitely had nothing to do with how Patton had wondered it the creative side’s lips would taste sweet or bitter, or if he’d still be able to feel them on his lips after they kissed, like the green color that stained his lips. Nope, not at all)

Anyways, here Patton was, enjoying a lollipop for a job well done. He was also updating a few of his scrapbooks, since he hadn’t done it in a while (a while being 2 weeks, but there were so many new memories to add, and so many old memories to look over and reminisce). He had just finished gluing the last photo in place when-

“BOOBS!”

Patton shrieked, though it was more amusement than fear, as he jumped off the couch. Remus had popped up on the other side, chuckling as the moral side regained his composure. “I got you this time Daddy-O!”

Patton giggled, sitting up. Ever since Remus had been accepted, Patton had grown used to his disturbing imagery and tendency to pop up anywhere. Remus had seen that as a challenge, and now tried to scare Patton whenever he could (Patton didn’t think he was trying very hard though, especially since he never used spiders and the goriest thing he used was a ‘beating heart’ made entirely out of cherry-flavored gummies).

Remus huffed, crossing his arms. “I did! I saw the fear in your eyes! I could smell your fear, from the top of your head to the tip of your-” He suddenly stopped, looking over at the table. “What’s that?”

Patton looked over and smiled around his lollipop. “Oh! It’s my scrapbook.” He got up and went to flip through it but Remus stopped him, just looking at the current page. He pointed to a picture of Remus and Roman working on an idea together, but the photo was obviously more focused on the green-clad twin. He was doing something that required careful precision, and his nose was scrunched up slightly while the tip of his tongue was peeking out under his mustache.

Remus had an odd expression on his face while he looked at the photo. “...I didn’t realize you were there.”

Patton blushed, looking away. “Well that’s the point, silly! It wouldn’t have been real if you were posing for it.”

He kept that same odd expression as he started at the photo. “I guess you’re right…” He suddenly looked up, staring at Patton with that same look on his face. “What’s with the new lipstick?”

Patton frowned. “My new lip- oh!” He pulled his lollipop out and gestured with it. “It’s just my lollipop. I guess it stained more than I thought it wou- eep!”

Remus suddenly took the lollipop into his mouth, his mustache brushing against Patton’s fingers before he pulled away, taking the lollipop with him. The dark sides hummed, pulling the candy out of his mouth with a loud pop! “Green apple, my favorite! Thanks Pattypop!”

Before Patton could even think about forming words, Remus had sunk out, presumably to go enjoy the rest of the lollipop. Patton let out a strangled squeak and got up, grabbing his scrapbook and rushing back to his room.

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The second time was technically accidental.

It had been 3 days since what Patton had dubbed the “Apple Accident,” and he was now able to look Remus in the eye without turning into a blushing mess. It helped that Remus never mentioned the incident, being his normal chaotic self and acting like it never happened.

It was now just after midnight and Patton was searching through the cabinets for a late night snack. Technically he could summon a treat for himself, but he was tired and just wanted to explore the kitchen and see what he could find. He was thankful that no one was awake this late into the night, so they couldn’t walk in and see how red the father figment’s cheeks were from blushing.

He had just woken up a few minutes ago from a rather interesting (and unfortunately recurring) dream. It wasn’t anything… risqué, but it was still mortifying. It always started with Patton alone in a flower field, making flower crowns. He would be halfway done with his crown before one of his crushes joined him. Usually it was just one crush, but sometimes it was two or all three of them. And Patton would lean forward for a kiss just moments before he woke up, his heart racing. This most recent one had been a little different, ending with a yellow lollipop being gently tugged from his mouth and a gloved hand cupping his cheek-

Patton shook his head, blushing hard. He came downstairs to forget about that! He just wanted to grab a treat and ignore the way his heart pounded at the thought of-

Oh. My. Gosh.

At the top of the candy drawer was a lemon-flavored lollipop. He must’ve put it there when he refilled it yesterday. Patton tentatively took the lollipop out of the drawer, the small candy suddenly feeling much more important than usual. He shouldn’t…

Patton ripped off the wrapper and quickly put it into his mouth, sighing softly as the sweet-yet-sour flavor assaulted his senses. He felt like he was doing something forbidden, and that only added to the pleasure.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Patton jumped and spun around to see Janus in the doorway. He tasted the lollipop on his tongue and suddenly felt like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. “Janus! What are you doing up so late?” He suddenly remembered the dream he had and was thankful that the dim lighting of the kitchen hid his blush.

If the deceitful side noticed his gay panicking, he didn’t mention it. “I was just looking for something sweet to have. A little bit of self-indulgence before bed.” He stepped closer, and Patton noticed his attire. Janus was wearing a pair of silk black pajamas, just a size too big so the sleeves were loose and the collar dipped down to expose part of his chest. Pale yellow-green scales ran down his neck and chest, even stretching to the tips of his fingers on his left hand. It was almost mind-boggling to just see Janus without his hat and gloves, much less the rest of his usual outfit. Patton was starting to wonder if the scales covered exactly half of his body or if they formed some sort of pattern under his shirt when Janus spoke up. “Lemon?”

Patton looked up from where he was staring at Janus’ collarbone, his blush growing deeper as he cleared his throat. “Pardon?”

Janus took another step closer, sticking his tongue out again to scent the air around him (which Patton found extremely adorable). “Is that lollipop lemon-flavored? If so, where can I find another one?”

“Oh! Yes it is! I uh-” Patton thought back to the candy drawer behind him. It might have another lemon lollipop, but Patton wasn’t sure. And if it was the only one, then the only way he could have one would be- “I’m pretty sure this is the only one.”

If Janus noticed the lie, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he stepped closer, causing Patton to scoot back as far as he could against the counter. Janus smirked, slinking closer until he was inches away from him. “Well then...” He reached up to cup his jaw, the smooth scales on his hand feeling like electricity to the moral side. “...I guess I’ll just have to…” His other hand tugged lightly on the lollipop. “...take it.”

Patton’s heart was racing as he opened his mouth, letting the lollipop easily slide out. He tilted his head slightly, waiting to be pulled closer, ready to be kissed-

Patton didn’t realize that his eyes were closed until Janus pulled away. He opened his eyes to see Janus smirking, the yellow lollipop pressed against his scaled lips. Patton held his breath as the dark side wrapped his snake-like tongue around the lollipop and pulled it into his mouth, pulling a breathless gasp from the moral side. “Mmmh, sweet, just how I like it. And the lollipop’s good too, I guess.” Patton squeaked, blushing hard as Janus chuckled. “Goodnight, Sweet Heart.” Patton opened his mouth to respond, but he had already sunk out.

Patton stood in the kitchen for several minutes, just staring at the spot Janus had been in. His fingers reached up to trace his lower lip, the lemony sweet-yet-sour flavor still fresh on his tongue. He let out one last squeak before sinking out to his room, burying his face into his pillow and screaming.

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The third time was entirely on purpose.

It was the morning after his encounter with Janus and Patton was still feeling… something (bold, flirtatious, flustered? He couldn’t tell). So when the opportunity for another… interesting experience with lollipops arose, the father figment couldn’t resist.

Breakfast was over and almost everyone had left to start their day. Remus and Roman were in the imagination, Virgil was hanging out in his room, and Janus had left to go help Thomas have a full self-care day. Patton had just finished doing the dishes and was currently sucking on a cherry-flavored lollipop (he’d become addicted to lollipops recently. It had nothing to do with the two flirtatious encounters he had surrounding lollipops. Nope, not at all). Patton was sitting on the countertop while Logan moved around the kitchen, presumably getting his morning coffee before leaving. Patton was shocked that instead of turning on the coffee pot like expected, Logan opened up one of the lower cabinets and started digging through it. “Uh, Lo? What are you doing?”

The logical side grunted, trying to dig through the piles of pots and pans. “I’ve come to realize that my… fondness towards coffee is negatively impacting Thomas, Virgil, and myself in terms of overall anxiety and degree of focus. Janus suggested an alternative form of caffeine consumption.” He grunted again before grinning in triumph, turning to show Patton the tea kettle he’d found. “Some green tea with honey should be a good substitute for my normal coffee.” Patton then remembered four things at once:

There was no honey in the kitchen because he used it all this morning to make honey biscuits

When Thomas was younger he did a project on candy and learned that the first lollipops were just honey on a stick, which are called honey spoons and are used to sweeten tea

Logan is Patton’s third crush, and the only crush he hasn’t had a flirtatious lollipop moment with

Patton was still sucking on a cherry lollipop

Patton quickly waved his hand while Logan wasn’t looking, removing any traces of cherry and replacing it with a honey spoon. “Well, I know we used the rest of the liquid honey to make breakfast, but I do know where a honey spoon is.”

Logan turned back to face him, smiling gratefully. “Thank you Patton, I really appreciate it.” When Patton didn’t move to grab anything, he tilted his head in confusion. “Uh, where exactly is this honey spoon?”

Patton put on his most innocent expression. “Oh! It’s right here!” He pointed to the honey spoon in his mouth, the sweet treat starting to melt across his tongue. “As long as you’re fine with sharing with me.”

Logan blushed, clearing his throat as he adjusted his tie. “I...I could just summon another one…”

Patton tilted his head to the side, trying not to let his smirk show. “You could. Or…” He leaned forwards slightly, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “You could take mine.”

The logical side stepped forward, looking lost as he reached out but didn’t grab the honey spoon. Patton pulled it out with a soft pop, honey smearing across his lips as he handed over the treat. Logan went to grab the stick and their hands briefly touched, both of them shuddering from the contact. Logan sounded slightly breathless as he stepped back, pulling the honey spoon with him. “Thank you, Hon- I mean! Thank you for the honey, Patton.”

Patton smiled dazedly, his heart melted like the leftover honey on his tongue. “No problem! And Lo? I’d like it if you called me that again.” He quickly sunk out before he could see Logan’s reaction, popping up in his room. He squeaked as he realized what he just did and buried his face into his pillow, ignoring the blush on his cheeks.

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Things were starting to get out of hand.

It’s been a week since Patton handed over his first honey spoon to Logan, and a sort of competition has started to form. The rules were simple: if Patton was alone with a lollipop that corresponded with the side in question (green apple for Remus, lemon for Janus, honey spoon for Logan), that side takes it, and shows said lollipop off to the other two sides (Patton didn’t even realize that last part until he walked in on Remus showing off his freshly-stolen lollipop to Janus). Patton almost always had lollipops on him by this point, since at least one of them would show up every hour to snatch one in their own way. Patton had even altered the lollipops to the way they preferred them!

Remus liked his lollipops to be drenched in food coloring, so it stained his (and subsequently Patton’s) lips and tongue for hours, even after just a few minutes of eating it. The creative side would pop in and try to scare Patton like he always did. Then he would mess with the moral side for a few minutes before asking what flavor the lollipop was (he didn’t even need to ask that, Patton’s lips were always shamrock green when he had Remus’ lollipop). Instead of offering the green apple lollipop in his pocket, Patton would take it out and start gesturing with it. Then, when Patton was in the middle of a sentence, Remus would grab the treat with his mouth, his mustache (and sometimes lips) brushing against Patton’s fingertips before pulling away, taking the candy with him.

Janus liked his lollipops to have a really strong flavoring, so the taste lingered for hours after you tasted it. He would saunter into the room and make up an excuse about needing some candy for ‘self-care’ before asking if Patton had another one. Patton would ignore the lemon lollipop sitting in his pocket and lie, saying that this was the only one he had. Janus would then slither up to him, cup his cheek with one hand and gently pry the lollipop out of his mouth with the other. Then he would take it while commenting that it’s “not as sweet as you.”

Logan liked his honey spoons to easily melt into his drink, so when Patton handed it over there was a sticky trail of honey along his lips. He would always appear with a new mug of tea, spend a few moments chatting about what happened last time he saw Patton, and then shyly ask with a blush if the father figment could share his honey spoon. Patton would always end up getting honey on his lips as he handed it over, and they would both blush as their fingers touched before Logan stirred his tea and left.

Patton knew that he should end this game, but he couldn’t. Every exchange felt like a forbidden moment, like an unspoken rule between the four of them. Every minute of Patton’s day was filled with anticipation, and every night was filled with dreams of lollipops and flower crowns and kisses under the summer sun. He wanted to break the spell, he really did, but he was scared. He was afraid that if he tried to step off of the tedious tightrope they had made, he would fall and no one would be there to catch him. He was pretty sure that they wanted him the same way he wanted them, but what if he was wrong? No, it was safer to just ignore his feelings and savor their little game while they still wanted to play.

And that worked, for about a week.

You see, there was another unspoken rule that Patton hadn’t realized until now: whenever one of his crushes walked into the room, Patton was supposed to change his lollipop to match their tastes. Green apple for Remus, lemon for Janus, and honey for Logan. Plain and simple. Barring his first incident with Logan, Patton had been doing this subconsciously. And another rule that seemed to be unspoken was that his crushes always appeared at random times throughout the day. This wouldn’t matter if they decided to tell each other when they were visiting Patton,but they didn’t.

So here Patton was in his room, enjoying a blue lollipop (it was supposed to be cotton-candy flavored, but Patton wasn’t sure what it actually tasted like) when all three of his crushes decided to pop in at the exact same time. Patton decided to stay quiet, curious about what they would do now that one of their rules was unintentionally broken.

At first they just tried to intimidate the other two into leaving. That was a fun glaring match to see. Then they began making excuses as to why they needed to talk to Patton alone, which said moral side found extremely amusing. Then they decided that whatever flavor lollipop Patton had would determine who got to stay. Patton was confused by that one. Even though the candy was fully in Patton’s mouth, it was obviously not one of their flavors. His lips weren’t shamrock green, he didn’t smell strongly of lemons, and there wasn’t a glaze of honey across his mouth. Then Patton realized it:

They wanted him to change the lollipop flavor and choose. Choose between the three of them. Well, that won’t do at all.

With one snap, the blue lollipop was gone and each side had their respective lollipop in their mouth. They all looked ready to speak but Patton beat them to it. “Nuh uh, it’s my turn to talk now. Got it?” They nodded and Patton smiled, relaxing slightly. “Good. Now, I feel like we’ve reached a bit of a misunderstanding here. You think you can waltz in here, claim my lollipops like they’re yours, argue over who I get to give them to, all without me getting what I want?” He tutted, sauntering forward. “Shameful, all of you.”

All three of them looked away for a moment, blushing in embarrassment. “What did you want?” Logan, always straight to the point.

He chuckled, stepping closer to the logical side. “It’s simple really. I think it’s my turn to take a lollipop or three.” He grabbed the stick of the honey spoon and tugged gently, smiling when Logan willingly opened his mouth. Honey trickled down his chin as Patton took the lollipop, and he gently grabbed Logan’s jaw when he tried to close his jaw. “Nuh uh, I want all the honey.” He leaned closer, giving Logan time to back out before kissing him.

It was exhilarating, tasting Patton’s candy on Logan’s lips. The sweetness of the honey only made the taste of Logan even better. He savored the taste like he would never taste it again, sighing softly into the kiss. When he pulled back, he smiled at Logan’s dumbstruck gaze before turning to his next crush.

The human side of Janus’ face was bright red as he stared at Patton, the lemon lollipop hanging limply from his open mouth. Patton chuckled and cupped Janus’ cheek, taking out the lemon lollipop before pressing their lips together. The lemon was stronger, much stronger than Logan’s lollipop, but that only made him pull Janus deeper into the kiss, desperate to find the taste that was purely Janus. There was still quite a bit of honey on Patton’s mouth and Janus seemed to notice, his tongue brushing against his bottom lip. Patton groaned before pulling away, turning to his third crush.

Remus didn’t even give him time to catch his breath before pulling him close, smashing their lips together. Patton felt the creative side’s mustache tickle his nose and he giggled into the kiss. He couldn’t taste much of the green apple, the lemon flavoring still assaulting his taste buds, but he knew that his lips were being dyed that lovely shade of green as he kissed him.

When Patton finally pulled back, he sat on his bed, three lollipops in hand. His three crushes (boyfriends? Lovers? They needed to clarify that soon) trailed behind him, situating themselves around him. “You’re going to spoil your appetite.” Logan warned him as he looked down at the three treats.

Patton chuckled. “I know, and I don’t care. Because there are only three things I ever wanna have, and they’re all right here in front of me.”

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @larrymalecsolangelo

[hirakdesherrani]

Scattered thoughts on Bulbbul 

(spoilers ahead)

Finally watched Bulbbul yesterday night, with my bff. We thought we needed each other’s support because we are phattus of the highest order, but there wasn’t much horror in it (as we found out later). 

Which brings me to the first thing, the trailer. Whoever edited the trailer did a splendid job, because it gave very little clue what the movie was about. I thought it was something like Stree, using horror to give a social message, just instead of comedy in that movie, this was more drama?

The movie, however, had very little horror/thrill. While the movie is one of Netflix’s better online products, it isn’t...great. Like it’s very on the surface. There are not many layers to the characters, neither is there a lot of subtext. Still, the pace is good, and the storytelling engaging. Hindi cinema, theatre or OTT, are very new in this genre, so I don’t want to be too severe here.

Things that I liked:

Tripti Dimri....omg what a revelation. Laila Majnu didn’t let us on how versatile this girl is. In the first few frames, me and my friend were commenting that why is she only sitting around, posing like a mermaid? But then with the flashbacks, her raw performance really took hold. The scene where they are sitting at a picnic and Mahendra pulls at her hair, the way she said, “Dada, na” slightly scared, but also not wanting to hurt his feelings (btw I’m very anti-Mahendra in this post), that was so well done. From there on, she owns every scene, that you can’t look anywhere else. Whether it’s the mix of annoyance and impatience when she wants to meet Satya but Binodini is taunting her, or whether it’s the scene where Indranil informs her and Satya that he’s sending the latter to London, she was so natural. Special mention to the two scenes of violence esp. the sexual assault one, because it takes a lot of guts to portray the victim in such scenes, and the scene was so difficult to watch, that we forwarded after a few seconds of it. 

That reminds me, from the moment the two brothers Indranil and Mahendra enter the frame, I knew what was going to happen, and which brother was going to perpetrate which abuse. The writing was on the nose, so to speak, with these two particular characters. Even so, Rahul Bose did the best that he could with them, but we have come to expect perfect performances when it comes to him, so not surprised here. 

The third brother, Satya, was what I would say the most layered character in this movie, surprisingly. Initially, I didn’t get why did they cast Avinash Tiwary for this role, because it wasn’t either a substantial role, or even a positive or negative or supportive role. I even thought the makers tried to cash on the Laila Majnu hangover, and hyped Bulbbul/Satya love story in the trailer. Unlike Bulbbul who loved Satya, I don’t think Satya loved Bulbbul, at least not like she did. Sure, he thought of her as his best friend, confidante, and all, but he didn’t care for her like that. It was evident when he was enamored by the idea of going to London, and didn’t notice Bulbbul’s voice breaking when Indranil informed them of the news. 

Halfway done with the film, I had made up my mind that Avinash is good with unrestrained roles like Qais, where he can completely let go, but not in subtle roles requiring controlled performances. What changed my mind was my growing dislike for Satya as the movie kept progressing. I kept thinking why does he annoy me so much, like he’s only there in a few scenes, and yet I want to snap at him? That’s when I realized how well the writers have written Satya, captured his mentality and vision, and without any overt or dramatic scenes, Avinash essayed the writer’s message.

Satya is proxy for the society in this film. He hears no evil, he sees no evil, just like our society which likes to pretend that there is nothing wrong going on behind closed doors. Satya is representative of those men, who argue whenever a woman raises her voice, that ‘not all men’ (ala that scene where Bullbul alludes to Master Dinkar beating his wife, while Satya defends the man by suggesting that his wife may have actually fallen down the stairs). In the scene where he meets Bulbbul after five years, he questions her what did she do that girl he knew five years ago, indirectly putting the blame on Bullbul for losing her childlike innocence, instead of asking her what happened to her that she became like this. Satya is classic ‘not all men’, victim-blaming abuse apologist in the film. Evil men are not just men like Indranil, who beat up their wives, or sexual assaulters like Mahendra, evil men are also those who stand by and watch, and pretend that nothing is going on, who put the onus on the woman for the upkeep of tradition, who question a woman’s morality and who act as the judge, jury and executioner of a woman’s character. Bulbbul’s dialogue is telling, “Tum sab ek jaise ho” Satya is no different from his brothers, he may not have committed and violence, but he was just as much a villain as the rest of them for willfully ignoring the evidence of his eyes. I haven’t made up my mind whether he was actually jealous of Dr. Sudip or not, or he just hated the man for being too bold to be friendly with the ‘women of his family’.

Which brings me to Dr. Sudip, the only likable man in this film. Even though at some level it is a little sad to see Parambrata Chatterjee slotted into these male guide/support to the female protagonist kind of roles (his role in Kahaani was something similar), I really do like watching him in these roles, playing them as he does with a lot of charm, subtlety, and empathy. The makers perhaps wanted to signify that there are a few men who are not completely evil, and not afraid or feel threatened in the presence of a assertive, and this case, avenging female. It’s his relationship with Bulbbul which I felt was the real love story of the film, though of course, Bulbbul didn’t harbor the same feelings for him, though she did care for him immensely. 

The other female role was that of Binodini. I know I should be feeling sympathy for her, at some level, she was also taught to keep quiet and bear all injustice, but I’m so tired of females taking out their bitterness on other females, making the lives of other women miserable, instead of directing them, rightfully, at the men in their lives and the dictates of the society. Binodini, like Satya, was a proxy for the women in the society who instead of being supportive of other women do the opposite, and help perpetuate patriarchy by teaching their fellow women to keep quiet. 

Another minor thing, like I mentioned before, from the first scene it’s evident what Mahendra’s going to do. And I wish to God that we stop with mentally ill men assaulting women. No, their mental condition does not excuse rape. Mental illness can provoke violence in a person, yes, killing accidentally or in a fit of rage, beating, pulling clothes, etc, but not rape. Rape is a specific offense that requires knowledge and intent, unless a mentally ill person has learnt it from somewhere, and even then, the fact that they drew pleasure from that violence shows that they have a sadistic instinct. Which is why I was glad when Mahendra was punished for his crime. (this is why I didn’t watch Ranjha Ranjha Kardi despite liking Iqra, because I knew they were going to excuse marital rape using mental illness). 

As such, there isn’t much of a plot per se in Bulbbul, it’s more of a commentary of our society, even though it’s set a century back, the issue of it’s choice being violence against women. Despite that, it’s an engaging enough film. It get’s through the message that the real horrors are not ghosts or witches, but what happens daily in our society. The length of the film is a huge plus, so I would suggest watching this film if you’ve some free time in the weekend. 

Also, don’t get fooled like me and my friend, it’s not horror genre. 

[xplrerdolan]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐔𝐘 [ 𝘊𝘖𝘓𝘉𝘠 𝘉𝘙𝘖𝘊𝘒 ]

⤬ SUMMARY: Colby thinks he may have met the one. Amber is everything he’s ever wanted; he’s never been so in love before, he’s sure of it. And then he meets you—and suddenly, Amber’s once shining colors seem so dull. He knows it’s wrong, but the more he resists you, the more he wants you—and the more he hates himself for it. ➝ NOTE: this fic is written from Colby’s perspective.

⤬ WARNINGS: cisfem!reader, adultery, swearing, consumption of alcohol [reckless; in excess], smut, unprotected sex

⤬ WORD COUNT: 4.5k

⤬ DISCLAIMER: this is a work of fiction. i do not condone the act of cheating, and in no way is this fic meant to glorify or promote adultery.

© xplrer on Tumblr // asteriasyzygy on Wattpad

pinterest aesthetic board // spotify playlist

❋ ❋ ❋

I loved Amber—love her. I swear. Everything from her auburn hair and honey-brown eyes. She dazzled me when we first met, and I want to believe that those feelings are still there. They're just buried... really, really deep.

It was killing me; she was killing me, slowly and torturously. With her claws impaled in my ribs, still sinking, threatening to own every part of me—down to my last breath.

It was getting bad. Or maybe that's just what I'm telling myself to provide me some sense of comfort. "Getting bad" was an understatement; even "getting worse" didn't do it justice. The other night, I did something terrible—so far beyond bad or worse that my stomach clenched every time I thought about it.

For the first time in weeks, Amber and I got intimate. I wanted to remind myself of who I had fallen in love with a year ago. I wanted to pull myself out of the mess I'd made; I wanted to pull Amber right back into my arms and lock her there tight.

We fucked in the dark—my first mistake. My second: I fucked her from behind. Hearing her moans, which normally drove me wild, was making me soft inside her. I didn't give her time to notice. I did the only thing I could do. I twirled her hair around my fingers and pulled her back, lifting her upper body off the mattress toward me. I brought my other hand to her mouth and silenced her. She perceived this as an act of dominance, not of shame.

I screwed my eyes up tight and thought of her. The mere memory of her sent blood coursing through my groin again, making me rock-hard inside of Amber. I focused on the wisps of her image that flashed through my mind as I chased my orgasm so it could all be over.

In the midst of my euphoria, I nearly called out her name—[Y/N]. I felt it teasing the tip of my tongue before I swallowed it forcefully, her name swelling in my throat and choking me. Tears rose to my eyes and I pulled out of Amber quickly, the evidence of my crime mocking me from inside the condom. I pulled it off me in disgust, flinging it towards the trash can and probably missing.

Amber—bless her heart—started to comfort me. "Baby, don't worry," she said softly, pulling my hands away from my face. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It's been a while. I didn't expect you to last long. Besides, I enjoyed myself while it did."

Her smile was so sweet. It took everything in me to not break down right there. I pulled her in for a tight hug to hide my face. I held my breath until the burning feeling in my nose went away and my tears dried. I kissed her cheek, fighting the bile rising in my throat as I did so. It's not that she disgusted me—I disgusted myself.

Without a word I stood from the bed and went to the shower. I turned the tap all the way to the left, the water quickly becoming scalding hot. I forced myself to stand under it, my back arching away from the heat as it assaulted my body. I grimaced as I endured my self-inflicted punishment, grabbing a bar of soap and scrubbing at my skin desperately. I wanted to wash her away. I wanted to remove the layer of skin she corrupted. Twenty minutes and half a bar of soap later, I resigned myself to the fact that it wasn't working. When I stepped out of the shower, my skin was a stark red.

I tried to remember all the pain of that night as I drove to her house for what I promised myself would be the last time.

❋

I didn't tell her that I was going over there to talk. I just told her I was coming over. To be completely honest, I told her instead of asking to feel like I had some control over the situation knowing I didn't. From the moment I'd met her, she had me wrapped around her finger, tucked neatly under that silver and amethyst ring she wore on her left middle finger—the one I'd first complimented her on when we met.

My fingers curled around the steering wheel in response to the flood of memories from that night; her little black dress, shamelessly flaunting her body; her body, the source of my hypnosis, my obsession. Even among a slew of memories I wish I'd never made, I savored the image of her body—covered, uncovered; coated in sweat as we fucked in the backseat of my car, drenched in water as I fucked her against the tile walls in her shower.

That night, she'd walked right up to me and snatched the red-solo cup right out of my hands before taking a long, deep drink from it. In fact, she drained it. The amethyst in her ring glittered as she handed my cup back to me, and since I was already pretty drunk, I didn't pay any mind to the sheer audacity of her careless, crass actions. Looking back on it now made me puff out a dry laugh and shake my head at myself. Our very first interaction was a red flag—[Y/N] took what she wanted when she wanted, and once she got what she wanted, she discarded what she didn't.

If I could go back, I'd say, "Get the fuck away from me." But hindsight is 20/20, and that's not what I said. On my way to incoherence at the hand of alcohol, I slurred at her, "Ni—cool, uh... thingy."

Couldn't decide on an adjective, couldn't remember the noun. Completely helpless in her presence from the first moment. And just like every other time she left me helpless, she just giggled at me for it. She found it funny, the effect she had on everyone around her. Everyone—men, women, nonbinary people, regardless of their sexuality or how attracted they were to her sexually. Every person she touched or talked to or smiled at was instantly inclined to like her. She was the kind of person who made you insecure in your own desirability—not just sexually, but whether people desired to be around you, and if people desired to be your friend. She was the kind of person you craved approval from. You could beg her for it with your eyes, try to get her to say it out loud, but she never budged. She left you hanging, dangling in front of her judiciary stare.

Imagine what happens when a person like that decides she wants more than just the drink in your cup? more than the shirt off your back? more than what you have to give? Here I am, the remnants of an answer.

She informed me that the thingy on her finger was a ring. She held her hand out, fingers sprawled, palm down. Innocently (ignorantly) I held her fingers in mine and gently twisted them, just barely turning them to the left and right, to watch the crystal glitter. Its edges were jagged, the rock as sharp and raw as her sense of humor. I traced the swirls of smoky purple with my eyes, squinting to really focus.

She humored me as I was clearly very drunk. She was feeling the buzz from the drink she'd stolen from me, and she was keen to catch up. When Tara, who had brought her to the party, walked up to her with a cup filled one-third of the way with brown liquor, which I could see from the shadow against the plastic, she was only too happy to take it with her free hand and immediately chug its contents. Rather than cringing from the taste, she stood before me with her eyes closed, humming. I stared at her in awe, my attention ripped away from her shiny ring while my fingers were still wrapped around hers. I only snapped back to reality when she pulled her hand from mine and gently pushed up against my chin to make me close my mouth.

After my mouth was closed, her fingers lingered on my skin, and subtly—quick enough for no one else to notice—she trailed her thumb over my bottom lip. She told me later that she liked the way it always made me look a little pouty, even when I smile. I had a feeling it only did that around her—when I was reduced to a beggar.

Stopped at a red light, I looked into the rear-view mirror and examined my lower lip. I ran my fingers over it, exactly where hers had been, and heaved a sigh through my nose. I could never look at my own lips the same way again.

I remember that I'd tried to tell her I had a girlfriend; I'd giggled it out, sounding like a little boy about to do something his mom had told him not to. Rather than backing off, she only seemed that much more interested. She didn't like being told she couldn't have something. And she'd take it anyway, just to prove she could, just to spite the rules.

She got off on the idea of making a loyal man disloyal. Whether it was to prove there was no such thing as a loyal man or to prove that she could get anyone she wanted no matter the circumstance, I don't even think she could say. It might be a little bit of both.

As I pulled onto her street, I solemnly admitted to myself that she'd done more than prove both, even with me walking away today. Walking away today didn't negate that I'd walked toward her before. The memory of the first time I met her was often revisited with anger; anger directed at her. Until now, I'd blamed her for my actions. But she hadn't been in that bedroom a few nights ago. She hadn't replaced Amber with herself, I did.

I knocked on her door twice. She called back to give her a second, and I could hear her music playing in the background. When she reached the door, she swung it open and posed in the doorway.

An involuntary whine came from the back of my throat, feeling briefly lightheaded as the blood in my body redirected south. I peered down at her over the bridge of my nose as if tipping my head away from her would make her any less irresistible.

She stood before me, dressed only in lingerie. The lacy ensemble was a bright cherry red, the color stark against her beautiful skin. The bralette cupped her breasts as if it were made for her body—and knowing [Y/N]'s tastes, it probably was made for her. The lace detailing continued down over her ribs, and a satin bow rested at the base of her cleavage. The matching panties came up to her waist, and a bow matching the one on her bra sat just under her bellybutton. They were incredibly simple, but her beauty and grace made them seem intricate and complex. What really killed me was the matching sheer boudoir robe, with its satin belt tied around her waist, emphasizing her curves, and its faux-fur trim surrounding her like a demonic aura.

She took my resistance for teasing, giggling at me—or maybe she could see right through me, and she knew I was desperately trying to resist her. And maybe she planned to dress as she had just to ruin me.

But truthfully, that's exactly what it did. And because I'd already accepted that I was a pathetic, weak bastard, I let my resolve crumble. One last time, I thought firmly. One last time and then it's over.

I brought my left hand to her waist, the satin belt feeling like heaven against my fingertips, and pushed her back into her foyer and shut her door, pretending for the moment that she was mine. She was mine and she wanted me as much as I wanted her, and she didn't want anyone else.

My hands moved up to cup her face, my thumbs tracing over her jawline. My eyes roamed her face freely, looking over her features as though I hadn't memorized them already, as if they weren't stained on the backs of my eyelids. Her gaze steadily met mine, a twinkle dancing in her eyes like she knew just how much power she had over me. She knew how weak I was for her.

For fuck's sake, she hadn't even touched me yet and I was already drunk on her. She'd left me breathless with just a look; she'd stolen whatever fragmented sense of control I had left without so much as a "hello."

Somewhere between wallowing in self-hatred and drowning in lust, I pressed my lips against hers, welcoming the sweet torture. Her lips felt softer than the satin draped over her waist. My hands started exploring her body, pushing past her robe to grab at her ass over her panties. While the feeling of it was enough to send a thrill through my lower abdomen, nothing brought me more euphoria than hearing her respond to my touch.

Her moans sent me out of my body; the only thing I cared about was her pleasure and being the source of it. My fingers pushed the red lace to the side before properly gripping the plump flesh, massaging it gently the way I knew she liked. It pleased her enough to earn her fingers raking through my hair, tugging on the little hairs at the base of my neck to make me whine.

It pained me that she had found that sensitive spot of mine in the few weeks we'd been sneaking around while Amber still hadn't found it after a year. My eyebrows knitted together, and I pulled [Y/N] tighter against my body, savoring these last moments of true satisfaction. The friction between our bodies made me harder than Amber had made me in months. Among the embers of my burning lust flared the searing heat of self-hatred; indulging in her made me a masochist to my own sadism.

I guided her backward through her hallways, the route all too familiar. We stumbled into her bedroom, making sure to lock the door—hiding from even the pictures on the wall.

On a less significant day, I'd be ravishing her. But, as I reminded myself sternly, this would be the last day I spent with her—I had to savor it. Despite telling myself that over and over again, the reality of it hit me hard at that moment. I felt myself choke on the emotion, my body betraying me as I felt tears prick at my eyes.

I refused to allow [Y/N] to see it. I turned her around, facing away from me, and gathered myself. While I calmed myself down, I slowly trailed my fingers over her sheer robe from her wrist up to her shoulders, raising goosebumps along her skin. I focused all of my energy on disrobing her, not letting a fraction of my attention slip elsewhere—especially not toward inconvenient, intrusive emotions.

My hands moved to caress the bare skin of her chest, just above her gorgeous breasts. They traveled south over her bust and then settled on the delicate bow holding the garment together. I undid the bow gently, taking my time loosening it. I could tell she wanted me to hurry—she sighed and pressed herself against me—but, just this once, I was going to indulge myself first.

I shushed her softly, drawing the sound out as I brought my mouth next to her ear. I whispered to her, "I'm going to take my sweet time having my way with you today."

She shivered against me, my breath fanning over her sensitive skin tickling it just right. She chuckled softly, an amused smile stretching over her face. She then clicked her tongue and cast a gaze over her shoulder, considering me briefly. Apparently, she decided to play along; her body relaxed against me, allowing me to control the pace.

I carried on with my actions, pulling the garment off at a painstakingly slow pace before draping it over a chair in the corner of her room. Her stillness made her look statuesque; I wouldn't be surprised if she turned to stone right before me, proving to be some artist's rendition of perfection.

"Lay down for me, on your back," I ordered.

She complied. If I didn't know any better, I might feel like I had some control over her, like she was naturally submissive. But the truth was [Y/N] merely allowed others to feel dominant; we both knew it was me who followed her, not the other way around. But for the moment, it was nice that the cat humored her mouse.

I crawled across the bed, pausing to hover over her and steal a kiss. Before I pulled away, she tugged at my shirt by the hem, wordlessly commanding me to remove it. I pulled it over my head by the neck, tossing it haphazardly to the floor. I leaned over her again, my hands on either side of her head, my arms outstretched.

She trailed her nails softly over my arms—always careful to not leave marks—before resting them on the back of my neck, pulling me down toward her again. She kissed me then like I'd never been kissed before: with a gentle passion, a soft intensity. She must have known—somehow, she must've.

When she pulled away from me, I lingered above her with my eyes closed, still processing the complex emotions she stirred in me. As I contemplated this, she pressed another kiss to my lips, this time quick and succinct, a little peck. It was enough to ground me back in reality.

I moved down her body, trailing open-mouthed kisses across her skin. I watched as her chest began to rise and fall faster the closer I got to her core, feeling more pleasure from causing her arousal than I'd felt in my entire relationship with Amber.

I situated myself between her legs, scooping my arms under them so they rested on my shoulders. She shot me a confused glance as I had yet to remove her panties, making me smirk. I blew softly over her covered core, a sensation that would do little more than tease her. She sighed again, a wry smile on her face. I was staying true to my word of taking my time with her.

I closed my mouth over her center, pressing my tongue against it to dampen the lace and taunt her with a feeling just on the cusp of pleasure. I sucked the cloth into my mouth, drenching it further, making sure it just barely grazed her most sensitive spot. She moaned, the sound a mix between pleasure and frustration. She ground her hips toward me, seeking more from me. I felt drunk on her desperation and wanted to feel more of it. I brought my hands to her hips and held them down, continuing her slow torture.

She balled her fists in the sheets, pouty moans falling past her lips. I felt her resist the pressure I placed on her hips, but I wasn't ready to give into her. I delivered a sharp, quick smack to her outer thigh. She gasped, relaxed into me, and let out a low moan.

After another minute of making her endure my teasing, I pushed myself up on my elbows to pull her panties off, earning a sigh of relief from her. I returned to my position and pressed kisses to her skin—along her thighs, in the crevices where her legs met her hips, and all over her mound. Finally, I kissed along her lower lips, starting at the very base and working my way up to the place she needed me most.

I settled my attention on her clit, slowly swirling my tongue around it, earning the tiniest moan from her. I then sucked the bundle of nerves into my mouth to further stimulate her, watching her back arch slightly and pull even harder at the sheets.

I couldn't stop watching her reactions. I felt myself growing impossibly harder at the sound of her moans, the head of my cock starting to throb. I lapped at her ambrosial juices, my tongue roaming the entirety of her pussy. She really started to squirm for me when I slipped my tongue into her, curling it up each time it entered her. After teasing her with my tongue, I brought it back to her clit and moved my left hand to finger her with my middle and ring fingers, sucking on the hardened bundle of nerves while my fingers pumped in and out of her.

At this point, her fingers were in my hair and her legs trembled around my head. She moaned my name in pleasure over and over, seemingly incapable of saying anything else. Her head was tipped back into the pillows, her back arched dramatically. I brought her closer and closer to her orgasm, my eyes trained on her writhing figure, enjoying the view immensely.

It didn't take long for her walls to start clenching around my fingers, a feeling that made my dick twitch in anticipation. I sped my fingers up, curling them up to tease the most sensitive part within her. Her voice broke off as she reached her peak, her hips grinding against my mouth desperately. My fingers worked through her high, slowing down as her body relaxed again. I lapped at her folds for a few moments longer, just enjoying the taste. When she looked down at me again, her eyes were filled with lust and affection.

When I crawled over her again, I pressed my lips against hers in a long, sensual kiss. I felt her push against my chest, wanting me to lay back so she could return the favor, but guilt weighed heavily in my stomach at the thought. As badly as I wanted it, I truly did not deserve it, and I would rather feel regret and longing than even deeper guilt. I chuckled into her mouth softly and shook my head.

"I can't wait any longer," I lied, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth. She moaned softly at my words, her nails scratching lightly over my chest.

I pulled away from her to finish undressing. I kept my eyes on hers, watching her reaction as my cock slapped against my lower abdomen, feeling a rush of lust as she subconsciously bit her lip. I attempted to crawl over her again, but she shook her head, sitting up.

"I wanna ride you," she purred. Another wave of lust washed over me, making me moan softly. I laid back against her pillows and watched her straddle me.

She leaned down to kiss me, grinding her dripping pussy over my shaft as she did so. A strangled moan escaped me; finally getting the attention I'd been craving was enough to make me quiver under her touch. She teased me like that for a while, working me up even more—the sweetest torture.

Finally, she allowed me to slip into her, my eyes rolling back into my skull at the feeling. She let out an erotic moan, the sound mixing with my own gasps of pleasure. I gripped her hips as she worked them over me. My eyes lazily trailed over her body, drinking in the sight of her gorgeous body.

She placed her hand under my chin and lifted my gaze up to meet hers. When our eyes locked, my heart stuttered in my chest. We held eye contact for a long moment, long enough that I felt myself unravel beneath her.

Then, she smirked down at me, a little giggle slipping past her lips. It was incredible how she could do so much to me while doing so little. I flipped our positions, surprising her, making her giggle more. I couldn't hold back a chuckle and a wide smile myself. I swooped down to kiss her before working my hips against hers, the feeling of her pussy around me making my mind go almost completely blank.

In fact, horrible as it was, the only thing on my mind was how much better it felt to be with [Y/N] than Amber.

I dipped my head down, biting marks into her neck—a luxury she could afford. She tugged on my hair, hard; it was the only thing she could do without leaving any evidence behind. I shut my eyes tight, trying to push the image and memory of Amber from my mind at this moment, focusing only on the woman underneath me.

I brought a hand up to grab a fistful of her hair, tugging on it to expose more of her neck to me. I sped up the rhythm of my thrusts, my teeth grazing against her sensitive skin. I felt my orgasm approaching, so I brought my thumb to her clit and rubbed it vigorously, wanting to feel her clench around me one last time.

I knew her body well enough to make it happen. Not even a minute later, the walls of her pussy fluttered around my cock, a stuttering, breathy moan escaping her. The way her legs trembled around me and her hips rolled up to meet mine sent me over the edge, making me cum harder than I'd ever cum before.

I rested inside of her after the fact, my head nestled in the crook of her neck. She played with my hair, humming contentedly as she gave me a moment to collect myself. When I finally did pull out of her, I reached over for the baby wipes she keeps on her nightstand, cleaning myself and her up carefully.

I laid back, opening my arms to her. She curled up next to me, laying her head on my chest. I stayed silent for a few moments, trying to enjoy my last few moments of peace for what they were—the calm before the storm.

When I took a deep breath, [Y/N] already knew what was coming. I explained my feelings to her in as little detail as possible—I was too ashamed to admit to her that I'd been replacing Amber with her in my mind, but I suspected she already knew.

I left her fifty bucks for a Plan B, kissed her once more, and left her house for the last time.

[plainbrunettelbl]

ABO (A) Fatgum Toyomitsu Taishiro x (O) Reader Candy Cane Lane

Word count: 1140

Warnings: Mentions of blood and almost assault

Title: ABO (A) Fatgum Toyomitsu Taishiro x (O) Reader Candy Cane Lane

Summary: Tai and you go see the Christmas lights together and run into a snag on your way home. 

(Gif not mine)

🍬-You had been with your lovely mate Taishiro for about one year now. You got together in the spring so you both had yet to experience Christmas together. Tai wanted to make this first Christmas the best.

🍬-You had already decorated your shared apartment together but haven't done anything else for the holiday season. That’s why when he found a flyer on his way home from patrol about Candy Cane Lane, a whole block filled up with lights and decorations he knew he wanted to take you.

🍬-Not gonna lie he wanted some cute pictures of you among the Christmas lights for his desk at the agency. The thought of you all bundled up and red-faced made him warm.

🍬-You had agreed of course.

🍬-He made sure you were bundled up from head to toe. Scarf, gloves, hat, and jacket all warm and thick. Candy Cane Lane wasn’t too far from your house so you both decided to walk to and from.

🍬-He didn’t need all of the layers as you did so he just stayed in his hero jacket and added a comfortable pair of black sweats to go with it. Some kids recognized him and he was happy to throw candy canes their way.

🍬-You had loved every light-up display and the inflatable snowmen that you both came across. Some of the houses even had Christmas cookies and hot chocolate to sell.

🍬-Tai, of course, bought a dozen and a half. The dozen he munched on while walking with along and the rest for you. You couldn’t finish six whole cookies so you gave the rest to Tai when you had your fill.

🍬-He was more happy to swallow those down as well.

🍬-Your mate was a bottomless pit but you wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. He was as kind as they come. Filled with nothing but the drive to bring out the best in his interns.

🍬-You went soft anytime you saw him mentoring them. You knew he was going to make an amazing father to your future pups. You two had just bonded not even two months ago so you knew pups wouldn’t be for a while but the thought made your Omega purr.

🍬-Tai had asked you to pose for various different pictures. One in front of a wall filled with Christmas lights and the two of you hugging and beaming to the camera.

🍬-Another of you standing next to a light-up reindeer.

🍬-Every time he would snap a picture he would shower you with compliment saying how beautiful you looked in every single one for them. If your cheeks weren't already flushed from the cold he would have noticed what his sweet words did to you.

🍬-Once you had gone down the block and back he purchased one more dozen Christmas cookies to eat on the way back to your apartment. The night had gotten colder so you huddled into his side more.

🍬-He had taken notice, “I can absorb you until we get home, Sweets.” He offered with a broad smile.

🍬-He loved nothing more than to cuddle with you using his quirk. At first, you were a little hesitant about how it would feel but once you sank into his body you knew regular cuddles wouldn't cut it anymore.

🍬-“Yes, please.” You crooned.

🍬-Normally you would hold out until you reach your warm apartment but you felt more cuddly today so you have in.

🍬-You turned towards him and let him lift you into his strong arms. You were wrapped around him like a koala. He unzipped his jacket a little so your head could peek out.

🍬-Your hat the same color as his jacket. It must have blended in too well since what happened next shocked you.

🍬-“Well, if it isn’t Fatgum.” A voice croaked from a nearby alley. Fatgum turned and tried to get a better look at the figure. All he saw was a covered face and something glinting in his hand.

🍬-You felt Tai stiffen. His Alpha instinct already telling him some bad was about to happen. He knew if it was a gun or knife and he adsorbed the attack it would end up hitting you instead.

🍬-The thought of you blooded and crumbled to the floor made his eyes turn red. His Alpha ready to destroy anything that dared harm his precious mate. He quickly released you from his embrace before pushing you out of harm’s way.

🍬-You might have tripped and fallen flat on your face but he was too focused on the threat at hand. Within minutes he had the guy beaten and slightly more bloodied than usual.

🍬-The others at his agency wouldn’t bat an eye at the battered villain, clearly impressed Fatgum held back enough not to kill him over the harm he could have caused his mate.

🍬-Once he had the guy subdued he ran over to your shaking form. You had tried to stay out of his way but couldn't bring yourself to flee. If things went south you wouldn’t hesitate to step in to protect your Alpha.

🍬-“Are you okay, Y/N?” He rushed, his hands flying over your body to check for possible injuries.

🍬-“I’m fine, Taishiro.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile.

🍬-His brow dipped, “No, you’re not. You have a scratch, Sweets.” He eyed your eyebrow as it had a tiny cut beading blood.

🍬-“It’s nothing Tai. I am just glad you are safe.” You wrapped your arms around his stomach because Lord knows he was too tall for you to wrap your arms around his neck.

🍬-He grumbled before lifting you into his arms.

🍬-“We are gonna go home and eat caramel popcorn while cuddling on the couch. I need you close right now, Omega.” His voice was slightly shaky.

🍬-He didn’t want to think about what could have happened to you tonight.

🍬-“I would want nothing more, Alpha.” You kissed him with a smile. Making sure to send out a purr to calm him down. It worked but you knew he wouldn’t fully settle until you were both back home safe and sound.

🍬-“I love you, Alpha.” You hummed.

🍬-“I love you too, Y/N.” He breathed, making sure to bend down to scent you.

🍬-You ended up exactly how he wanted. Laying on top of him on the couch, munching on caramel popcorn and watching Christmas movies. He has taken care of your cut and would pout every time he would catch sight of the small bandage.

🍬-You would kiss him on the lips every time you caught him frown. His mood would go back to normal after that. He might have scowled a few more times than necessary for more pecks.

🍬-You laughed at his silly antics. He was the best Alpha an Omega could have.

First time writing for FatGum. I don’t read the Manga so I only know what I learned from the anime. I hope he came out alright. I have another idea in mind for him. Hope you liked it! 💕

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 4

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

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Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Chapters 1-11 are currently available on Patreon.  To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

FOUR

The Next Morning

A hand shakes you awake and you forget for a moment where you are. Sam’s sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and pulling on his boots. 

“Get up,” he stands, looking down at you. “You should eat.”

Wrapped in nothing but Sam’s cloak, you sit at the table, attempting to peel an egg one-handed as both the men wolf down plates of eggs, meat and bread. They eat in silence, paying you no attention until Dean finishes and sits back in his chair. Sam has sent a servant to find you a dress, but until then you’re careful not to let the cloak fall open. 

There are men swirling around them, packing up each item with care. They must be getting ready to move the camp. 

“How far do you think we can make it before the storm comes?”

“If we’re lucky we may get to the base of the mountains. But I doubt we’ll make it that far.” Sam forks a hunk of meat, popping it into his mouth. “You hear the wind? By nightfall the snow will start.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing. We’re closer to home every day. How far out do you think we are.”

“A month before we join up with dad’s regiment. Three until we’re in our own beds again.” 

“I can barely remember what it feels like to get a good night’s sleep. To not smell like blood and dirt. I’m ready to be done.” Dean sounds energized at the idea of heading home but Sam’s indifferent. 

“I don’t mind being out here in the trenches.”

“That’s because you enjoy it...I like to strategize but you love to get your hands dirty.” 

Sam’s half listening, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you fumble with a boiled egg. You’re useless with one hand, you wouldn’t have lasted long thrown in with the soldiers. 

“You set her arm?” Dean’s talking to his brother, but staring at you with unnerving intensity. 

“Of course,” Sam confirms, ripping off a bite of bread with his teeth. “She took it better than expected.” 

Sam sighs at your half-peeled egg. He takes it from you and peels the rest before handing it back.

“Are you left-handed?” Dean grins, looking from you to his brother. 

“Yes,” you respond quietly. “I’m no use with my right.”

“Well, let's hope you heal quickly. We can’t follow you around all day,” Dean chuckles, taking a drink. 

“I’m going to address her condition with the men first thing this morning. They brought us an Omega with a broken arm. Can you imagine what else they’re up to that we don’t know about? I’m going to make an example out of them. We can’t have this kind of insubordination going on right under our noses.” 

“It’s best coming from you. They’re already scared of you.” Dean nods, both arms on the table.

The younger Winchester’s reputation is known throughout the lands. He’s a ruthless killer with little to no regard for anyone or anything. All the Winchesters are brutal but he’s gone darker. 

Sam shakes his head, ripping off an appropriately sized chunk of bread and setting it in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking a bite. 

“They nearly ruined her.” Dean taps his fingers on the table. “And they’ve been hoarding gold and silver. When I find out who’s responsible there’s going to be hell to pay.” 

All attention shifts to you. You stop chewing and look from Alpha to Alpha. 

“You said they touched you. Where? How?” Sam asks, resting his forearms on the table. 

Both men stare at you expectantly as your fingers curl around the bread, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.  

“My breasts,” you whisper, wishing you were somewhere far, far away from this camp and these awful men. “One of them put his fingers...inside me.”

“Jesus Christ.” Sam grimaces, utterly disgusted at the idea. “They’re dogs.” 

“Yes, they are.” His brother agrees as they both turn their attention back to the food in front of them. 

-

Dean stands at the head of the tent, looking at the line of men standing at attention. Sam’s pacing up and down the row with you frozen in place next to Dean. If they didn’t know why they were summoned, they figured it out as soon as the Winchesters brought this new Omega back to the scene of the crime. 

“Do you remember who touched you?” Sam asks. 

You look up in horror as every man looks at you with murder in their eyes. 

“No, I’m sorry.” You lean forward in hopes of only Sam hearing the confession. “I was delirious, in pain and riddled with exhaustion. I can’t remember the faces.”

Sam and Dean have been displeased with the men for months now. The soldiers are compensated well and allowed free reign save for a few exceptions. There are so few rules and they can’t seem to manage to follow them. They’re expected to hand over precious metals and stone, and of course, keeping an Omega is strictly off-limits. 

Last month someone slipped a note to Dean. It was a tip about men stealing away gemstones. It turned out to be an entire operation, almost a dozen men involved in the scheme. Ever since, tensions have been rising. 

“Which one of you found her in the woods and brought her to the camp?” Sams walks up and down the line. 

“I did.” A man steps forward. 

“And you saw fit to throw her from your horse?”

“I didn’t realize she was so delicate,” he chuckles and behind him other men laugh. 

“Who touched her? One of you had your hand between her legs, tell me now.” Sam’s question is met with wide eyes. All of them are silent. They all know what happened was a serious transgression. 

“Either the man who stuck his fingers in her cunt identifies himself or every man here will suffer his punishment.” Sam looks down the line of soldiers as Dean crosses his arms over his chest. 

After a moment a man steps forward, looking nervous as he raises his hand. 

“It was me, my lord.”

“Your honesty will not go unnoticed.” Sam nods, his mouth pressed in a grimace. “And her breasts. Which of you touched her breasts?”

You want to crawl away. This sort of public shaming is nearly too much to bear. 

Two more soldiers came forward, remaining silent as Sam stares at each of them in turn. 

“You, who threw her from the horse. For breaking her arm, you’ll have yours broken as well.”

“Please,” the man breathes, as two larger soldiers take him by the arms. 

Sam ignores him, moving forward to the next two.

“For touching her breasts, each of you will forfeit a finger. Thumbs, I think.” Sam walks down the line, coming to stand in front of the man who touched your sex. “And you, a beta who dared to put his hands inside an Omega, we have a fitting punishment. Your right hand seems like a fair trade.”

“Please don’t do this!” The man pleads. “We didn’t know what she was. Would have brought her straight to you if we even thought she was-”

“Enough.” Sam hisses. “There are rules in place for a reason. You find an Alpha officer and you have him scent her. No exceptions. Let’s hope this is an example for all of you.” 

-

You’re loaded into the back of a horse-drawn cart, nested in fur and wrapped in a cloak. Several servants bring more blankets to lay over you until you’re sufficiently protected from the elements. The snow has started to fall and they’re moving the entire garrison. Headed home after months in the field. 

“Thank you.” You offer a smile to the shivering man, as he lays yet another blanket at your feet. 

The moment you speak he looks at you in horror and scurries away as another woman is helped into the cart. She’s older but unmistakably Omega, her scent is slightly soured, a sure sign of abuse. She settles in on the opposite side, a servant tucking her in. The cook who washed you the night before approaches, handing each of you a cup of hot pine tea.

“Thank you,” you try again, only to have the woman grunt and turn her back. 

“They’re not allowed to speak to you.” The other Omega shifts, cupping her tea in one hand and pulling her hood down to shield her face from the snow. “In Gilead servants aren’t allowed to speak directly to Omegas.” 

“Why not?” you ask. The cart begins to move and you grab your arm, wincing as the pain surges. 

“They’re Betas, and slaves at that. According to the law of the Gilead, they’re not good enough to lick the bottoms of your feet.” The woman stares at you, then your arm. “Who did that to you?”

It’s such a strange mix of sexual slavery and social status. You’ve been reduced to nothing more than your pussy and yet you’re considered elevated. 

“I fell from a horse.” You don't want to get into the details, it makes you sick to think about what happened. And now the men who will be disfigured because they didn’t follow protocol. Being an Omega has saved your life and will now seal your fate. 

-

“Do you have your flask?” Sam asks, guiding his horse beside Dean’s. His brother reaches into his cloak and fishes out the metal canteen. 

“You’re not one to drink in the morning.” 

“It’s not for me.” Sam takes the flask from him. 

“For the Omega?”

“She's in pain. And she’s only going to get colder. The snow is just starting, the storm will be bad.”

They ride in silence a moment longer before Dean pipes up. 

“You fucked her?” Dean poses it as a question but he’s not looking for confirmation. He already knows. 

“What of it?” Sam shrugs. 

“You’re not normally interested in much more than getting your dick sucked.” Dean looks ahead at the line of soldiers stretching as far as the eye can see. “Are you developing a soft spot?”

“Have you smelled her?” Sam asks deadpan, his grip tightening on the reigns. He can scarcely think about you without his dick getting hard.

“I did.” Dean’s not sure what his brother is getting at. You smelled appealing but nothing to elicit this kind of reaction. “Her scent wasn’t out of the ordinary but she’s quite the beauty when she’s not covered in mud and snot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Omega like that, that pleasing to the eye as dad would say.”

“She doesn’t know how pretty she is.” Sam’s horse whinnies, hot air puffing out in the frigid air. He’s quiet for a moment and turns toward his brother. “She doesn't smell different to you?”

“You’re stuck on that?” Dean’s eyes narrow, trying to suss out exactly what Sam is getting at. “Well, you know what they say. Some Omegas are better matches.”

“Perhaps.” 

“Or it’s entirely possible that the notorious Sam Winchester has found a pretty face he can’t ignore.”

“I’ve little interest in women.” Sam shifts in his saddle, ready to end this conversation. 

“She’s not a woman. She’s an Omega and a rare one at that. But if you’re so indifferent, why don’t you let me have her tonight. I did see her first after all. Fair is fair.”

Dean gets the reaction he’s looking for, a locked jaw from his brother. 

“No, you’ll ruin her. You can have her when I’m done with her.”

“Right,” Dean chuckles and Sam reaches over, slugging him in the arm. “I won’t hold my breath.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 87

Well, it had to happen.

SOMEONE had to call Sophia on her bullshit...

I stifled a moan as I felt the tension easing from the muscles in my legs.  Tyche and I - after much negotiating - were spending some quality time together for the first time in weeks.  Rather than our usual meet-up over a meal we had agreed to some yoga and a light workout.  At the moment, we were moving through a series of beginner level poses, me following her lead.  With the increasing gravity on the Ark, the movements were much more difficult than I had recalled, and I was already sweating.

Then again, that had been the point of the workout, I guess.

“Keep breathing, Soph…” Tyche warned as we moved from child pose to cobra pose.

“Trying,” I grunted. Was I this out of shape, or was it just that much harder?

Somehow, I survived finishing yoga. I sat on the floor for a moment, taking a breather.  We were in one of the communal spaces - I think it had originally been intended as passenger quarters, but was currently opened up and being used as a sort of gym.  We were currently debating what we wanted to do next to finish off our workout, when a red-haired man I didn’t quite recognize approached us.

As we jumped to our feet, the man scowled when Tyche stood slightly in front of me. “Weak,” he spat, and I realized he was one of the people I had noticed acting suspiciously early on.

“What do you want?” my sister asked in a carefully-neutral tone.

“I don’t want anything from the likes of you two,” he answered in a disgusted tone. “But you,” he glared at me, “need to stay away from the Leader.”

The bitter laugh that came out of my mouth sounded like a bark. “For starters, he approached me. I don’t know what his issue with me is, but I’m sure as shit not hunting him down to give him a second chance at a sucker punch.”

“The Leader would never - “

“Bullshit,” I cut him off. Tyche was still in front of me, but seemed content to let me speak.  “He would and he nearly did. I don’t know what the hell he told you and your buddies, but I was minding my own business when he tried to lure my friend away, and when I stopped him, he started talking about a situation he has no real clue about. If she hadn’t shoved me to the ground, his punch would have landed in my kidney instead of her side. You want a copy of the recording? I’ve got that, too.”

“You aren’t worth his attention,” the nameless man sneered.

Tyche snarled and stepped forward, brandishing her finger under his chin like a knife. “Your so-called leader isn’t worth the air he wastes by breathing, much less the poison that drips from his mouth.”

Surprisingly, he outright dismissed her, instead focusing on me. “You won’t have your precious guards around you forever.  The Leader will strip away everything you have, leaving you nothing.”

I managed to convince Tyche to step aside. “Look. Whatever Jokull Bjornson wants, I don’t have it.”

“Don’t you dare say his name!”

“Is this guy fucking Voldemort or something!?” I asked Tyche incredulously.

Her laughter seemed to be the opportunity he was waiting for. He stepped toward me aggressively, hands raised...

...Only to find himself flat on his back, me sitting on him, one forearm across his throat. I found myself absolutely furious, and tired of people treating me like I was some dainty, fragile thing. “Yes,” I hissed in his face, “the people who care about me put a lot of thought into keeping me safe. And yes, most of them are more willing to fight than I am. But that doesn’t make me helpless, you brainless fucker.  I don’t know where you or your precious leader got the idea that I can’t defend myself, but it may be one of the bigger piles of shit he’s selling you.”

Some vague glimmer of intelligence flickered across his face, and he nodded.  He didn’t even spit in my face, despite the fact that it looked like he really wanted to.  Satisfied that he got the message, I carefully let him up, keeping a watch on him the entire time as he left.  As soon as the door closed behind him, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I had been holding, every ounce of willpower I had focused on not letting my legs collapse when the adrenaline just drained out of my body.  I managed a weak smile as I turned back to face my sister, proud of myself.

Needless to say, I was entirely unprepared for the blow that knocked me on my ass, pain blooming from my mouth.  My fight or flight response tried to find a target, only to see a seething ball of blonde rage standing there.

Tyche had decked me. Right in the teeth. “You foolish, stupid bitch! Now they know you aren’t helpless! We were counting on that!”

All I could do was stare at her, mixed with looking at the blood on my hand - and shirt, and the deck - before trying to speak “Da fug?” Ow. That hurt.

“When are you going to get it through that brilliant skull of yours that you don’t have to fix everything yourself?! Jesus, fuck, Sophia! Someone has it out for you, badly enough to try to assault you in clear view of everyone on this fucking ship. Which, in case the math escapes you, means they have more followers than we even realize, if he’s that confident.  He wasn’t trying to take you down, it was a fucking test. He wanted to see if you would fight back, and he never found out, because Charly didn’t let him.”

“Tyg - “

“No. You do not get to speak right now. You get to listen. When Charly took that hit for you? Yes, it made you look helpless, but it protected you.  Bjornson won’t attack someone who won’t fight back.  But, guess what? You just tore that protection to shreds, set it on fire, and pissed on the ashes.”

“Dis in’t deh fuss die sowwuh has had it oub fuh me.” Maybe she had a point about me not talking. That hurt like a bitch.

“AND YOU NEARLY DIED!” she roared. “For three weeks, I had to watch you try to figure out if you were going to live or die! Conor had to watch you. Derek had to watch you, the closest thing he has to a mom, almost die for three. Gods. Damned. Weeks.”

Her words hit me harder than the punch, and all I could do was gape.

“Yeah. That never occurred to you, did it? We all had to sit there and watch you die. Every day, every hour, every minute, we hoped you wouldn’t.  And this time, yeah, he’s got more people, but we thought we had the advantage, right? Because we knew who they were, we knew what they thought, but nooooooo.  Fuck all that to hell, because Sophia Moira Reid has to fucking save everyone!”

No. None of this occurred to me. I felt so small and guilty as I realized the truth of what she was saying. I had been so selfish.

Tyche’s eyes welled with tears and, if anything, that made her even angrier. “I can’t keep losing you, mon coeur. Three times! Three times in my life I’ve had to lose you. When you went to college, when the End happened, and when we ended up on the Ark, I thought ‘Finally! I finally get to have a sister! We can be in each other’s lives like siblings are supposed to be.’ But then I had…. I had to see you… She was tangled in your hair, killing you…”

I reached out one hand, wanting to comfort her but at a complete loss for what to do.  She was mourning me, the person sitting in front of her.

Tyche swatted my hand away and kept talking. “I love Conor and Maverick, but there is this part of me that just says ‘my sister has the self-preservation of a koala’, and I can’t be around all the time to protect you. It’s killing me. And I can’t exactly ask Arthur and GK to chain themselves to you around the clock.  If it were up to me, you would be confined to quarters, indefinitely, preferably sedated.”

“You would keep me prisoner?” I enunciated carefully, wincing slightly.

“Haven’t done it yet, have I?,” she sighed in defeat.  “Didn’t even ask anyone if it was possible, for that fact. And it wouldn’t be holding you prisoner, per se. More like….. Protective custody.”

“To protect me from Bjornson.”

“To protect you from yourself.”

“I’m not the one who busted my lip,” I pointed out, gesturing at the evidence. Tyche was trying to pull herself back together, and I wasn’t going to stop her.  Even if it did mean she was back to calling me an idiot.

She rolled her eyes and reached down to help me off the floor. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve seen you do worse to yourself washing laundry.”

“That stair was broken,” I argued, checking to see if my lip was done bleeding.  Almost.

“Yeah, and so was your ankle.”

“Does this mean I get out of weights today?”

“Nope,” she casually dashed my hopes. “You get to do fencing now.”

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[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 1: The Whims of Chaos

Amamiya Ren was on her way to Tokyo. She had short messy hair, black-rimmed glasses, and was wearing a grey shirt, with a black jacket, a navy blue skirt, white socks, and a pair of black Mary Janes. She had fallen asleep on the train. In her mind, she could only see one thing. That night. She was on her way home for the evening when she heard a woman crying out for help. She was scared, yet knew she had to be brave. She raced towards the sound to see a violent bald man trying to force a woman into a car.

The man turned to her. ”What are you looking at?” he asked. “Move along!” Ren knew she couldn’t.

“Stop!” the woman cried.

The man glared at her. “Impudent people like you should do as I say and follow where I steer this country!” He turned back to Ren. “Well?! What are you waiting for?! Leave!”

That was the last straw for Ren. She was sick of jerks like him thinking they could control everything on a whim. She had to put a stop to it. She stepped between the woman and the man, splitting them up.

The man was clearly drunk, and after stumbling for a little bit, he fell and hit his head on the sidewalk. He got up, and he was bleeding. “Damn brat! I’ll SUE!”

Ren was confused. “You fell on your own,” she said.

“Silence!” he yelled. “You’re going to regret this!”

The woman that Ren had saved spoke up meekly. “I’ll-I’ll tell the police.”

The man looked at the woman he was trying to trap and grinned. “Go ahead. I have the police, the judges, and the lawyers under my thumb. They aren’t going to believe you anyway.”

As if they were dogs on a leash, two police officers came up. “Is something the matter?” one of them asked. He noticed the man that Ren only knew as vulgar. “Oh, it’s you sir. Are you alright?”

“Well, tell them,” the man said.

The woman looks hesitantly at Ren. Tears formed, as if it were meant to be an apology. She turned to the officers and barely choked out “This young girl...assaulted this man…”

Ren was shocked. “It is as she says” the man says. “Arrest her!’

“Yes sir!” the officer said.

“Oh, and, please be sure to leave my name out of it,” the man added.

“Yes sir!” the officer said. The two officers arrested Ren before she could process everything that was going on. After which, she was let off on parole, but her parents felt that living in their quaint little town wouldn’t do her any good. They offered her to stay with a friend of theirs; a man by the name of Sojiro Sakura.

That moment was all that Ren could dream about ever since it happened. It played over and over again in her head. Until it stopped. Her mind faded to black. She then saw an image that would make sense for a dream, but it felt all too real.

There stood an image of a white metallic angel “What are you doing here?! I am creating order!”

Ren notices a figure in a cloak. “Well, if that’s what you’re trying to do, then it’s no wonder why I’m here!”

“Pardon?” asked the angel-looking thing.

“I think this country is just about done with order” the cloaked figure says. She holds up her hand and summons a rapier that was adorned in gold. “I think it's time for chaos to reign!” With one motion, the cloaked figure slices the white metallic angel thing in two.

Ren was then hit with a barrage of strange images. A castle morphing into a town. A museum being covered by police tape. A bank landing from the sky into a highly stylized city. A pyramid gaining an eye and omitting a cursed aura. A space station turning into a post-apocalypse. A casino shifting into a fashion show. A ship being shrunk down and turned into a prop. Lastly, she saw the Tokyo underground change into a garden.

Ren was having trouble processing all of this. The cloaked figure then looks at Ren. “Hm?” they say. “Oh darling, you’re here a bit early.” Ren was confused. “Or perhaps, it’s not early for you.” They laughed. “I AM the manifestation of chaos after all. It would only stand to reason that the you here now isn’t the you of the present time.”

Ren glared at them. “Yes, I see” they continued. “This is the you I am interested in. The you of now is nothing more than a middle school girl, enjoying life as much as she possibly can; blissfully unaware of what is about to occur. You is the you of my future.”

Ren was confused by these words. Does this mean that this is in the past. If so, why am I seeing it? And why is this figure talking to me anyway? This is supposed to be a dream, right?

“If I am correct, you recently got arrested for a crime you didn’t commit, correct?” the cloaked figure asked. Ren was shocked. “Heh heh. So I was right.” The figure took out an apple. “Here” they said. “You’ve seen what I just did to Yaldabaoth, correct? Well, with a bite of this apple, all that power can also be yours.”

Ren was shocked. What did they just say? I could have that power?

“You want revenge, right?” the figure asked. “I can give that to you and more. With one bite, your inhibition will be released, and revenge will be yours for the taking. You will be able to punish that guy that had you arrested and make him pay!”

Ren was certainly tempted. Everyone back home was labeling her a criminal. It sounded nice to be able to shake that. However, something about this didn’t sit right with her. “What’s in it for you?” she asked.

The figure giggled. “Well, there are certainly some benefits to be gained on my end. Another agent of chaos for starters. And a powerful one at that. But more importantly, the one who summoned me has taken quite an interest in you.”

Ren was understandably confused. “Summoned?”

“Ah yes” the figure said. “The nature of my existence is complicated at best. I have always existed, and yet I have yet to exist. I am here in your past because you were there in her future.”

Ren was further confused. Then again, this figure did call itself the manifestation of chaos. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise to think that this powerful chaos could do something like that. “So. What do you say?” the figure asked.

Ren was almost tempted to accept this offer. Being shipped out of her home because of a false report by a powerful asshole sucks. Ren thought that with this power, she could enact her revenge and clear her name.

However, a voice in her mind spoke to her. “Don’t!” it said. Ren was shocked. The figure was displeased. The voice in her mind continued. “Their definition of revenge is nothing short of death! The power they will grant you will corrupt you into becoming someone you are not! You will become a violent, ruthless, killing machine! You will become the very thing you hate! Someone who abuses their power to get what they want!”

Ren heard the voice. She stood against the figure and glared at it. “Hm. I see you have your answer!” they said. “Very well. But know this! I expect a thank you!” Ren was confused.

“See, the figure I just slayed, Yaldaboath, was setting you up to play in an unfair game” the figure explained. “They were forcing you into a situation in which you were supposed to lose in order to spread its idea of order to the masses. Of course, I am more forgiving than that. We are still going to play a game. However, this time, it will be fair.”

The figure smirked. “I have no intention of losing. I just won’t stack the deck against you is all. If we were to fight now, you would surely lose. But by journey’s end, I fully expect a fair fight. In the meantime, I shall be going about my business, all the while making sure you’re ready when the time comes. Do you have a deal?” Ren nodded. “Good. I shall see you on the other side. The figure bowed, and the entire scenery faded.

Ren woke up on the train. She was breathing heavily, and her heart was beating out of her chest. “What was that?” she wondered. She checked her phone for the time, and saw something else that confused her. A mysterious app that was red and pulsating. “I don’t remember installing this,” she pondered. She gasped. “Could this be part of the ‘game’? But, that wasn’t real, was it?”

Ren tried figuring out what had just happened for the remainder of her ride. But much to her dismay, there wasn’t anything she could figure out besides what she was told. “Now arriving in Yongen-Jaya!” the announcer said. Ren gasped. This was her stop. She figured she could worry about agents of chaos and someone who could slice a giant metal angel thing in two as easily as they could breathe later. For now, she had to meet up with one Sojiro Sakura.

She managed to find Sojiro’s house, but no one answered when she rang the bell. She found this curious, so she decided to ask around. She found out Sojiro runs a cafe named Le Blanc.

She found Le Blanc and entered. She saw an old couple sitting at a booth, as well as a middle-aged man wearing a pink shirt, tan pants, and a green apron. “This is the best coffee we’ve had here, Sakura-san” the old man in the booth said.

“Why thank you” said the man Ren deduced had to be Sojiro.

“Excuse me?” Ren said.

“Hm?” said Sakura-san.

“Are you by chance, Sojiro Sakura?” Ren asked.

“Huh? Yeah” he said. There was a bit of a silence. “Oh, you’re-” Sojiro sighed. “Sorry. I forgot that was today.”

Ren smiled. “It’s alright.”

“Boss, who is this girl?” the old mad asked.

“I mean, I know you're something of a ladies’ man, but isn’t she a bit young for you?” the old woman asked.

Sojiro was stunned. “I-It’s not like that,” he said, defensively.

“Well, we should probably get going,” the old man said.

The old lady nodded. “It seems Sakura-san is busy,” she replied. The two paid for their coffee and left.

Sojiro sighed. Ren smirked. “So” she said. She posed provocatively and said “Ladies’ man, huh?”

Sojiro glared at her. “Shut up.” Ren returned to her normal posture and giggled. “Anyway, come upstairs.” Ren followed Sojiro up to a messy attic. “This will be your room for your time in Tokyo.”

Ren looked at him confused. “I’m not staying with you?”

“Well…” Sojiro said. He sighed. “Look, things are complicated at my place.”

“Too many women coming over?” Ren said. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Sojiro glared at her. “Look. I agreed to take care of you. Please keep your smart aleck remarks to a minimum.”

“Sorry,” Ren said.

Sojiro sighed. “No, it’s understandable. From what I understand, your situation is a bit hectic to say the least. You’re just trying to keep your spirits up. But please, if you can help it, don’t do it at my expense.”

“OK,” said Ren.

Sojiro smiled. “Anyway, I’m sorry your room is in the condition it’s in. I would have cleaned it more, but stuff got in the way.” Sojiro looked at Ren. He smiled. “A fast learner? I like that. It’s sure to help you live a regular school life.” Ren nodded.

“Anyways, I need to get home. I have matters I need to attend to. I’m sure you can clean enough to get yourself situated for the night. That corner over there is where your mattress is. That might be a good place to start. I’ll make you some curry, and then you can get started.”

The two of them walked down stairs. Sojiro made Ren some curry for dinner, and served her some coffee. To Ren’s surprise and delight, they were both delicious. Ren thanked Sojiro for the meal. Sojiro nodded and then left for his place.

Ren then headed back upstairs and cleaned what would be her room for the next year or so. There was a lot, so she had to prioritize. She started with the bed, and then organized some shelf space for her luggage that was to come to her later. She figured she could get the rest of it later. For now, she was tired, and decided to go to bed.

Ren reflected on what had happened today on the train. It seems like a complete work of fiction. And yet, it felt so real. She then took out her phone and looked at the app she had gotten. And this app. This is proof positive that what I witnessed was real. At least to some extent. All of this is a lot to take in. Maybe I can figure it out after a good night’s rest. Ren closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

However, she should have known. A dream is what got her caught up in this in the first place. Another dream just might continue it. Ren awoke in a jail cell. However, the door to her cell was nowhere to be found. She walked up to the door and saw a room surrounded by more cells. In the middle was a strange man with a long nose. Standing at his side was a young girl with a book.

“Welcome. To the Velvet Room” the man said. “Do not be alarmed. You are fast asleep in your own world. My name is Igor. My associate here is Lavenza.”

“I assume you have a lot of questions,” Lavenza said. “We are here to be of assistance.”

[aion-rsa]

Promising Young Woman and the Limits of Female Rage

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This article contains Promising Young Woman spoilers.

Cinema is full of stories of righteously angry women who have suffered at the hands of wicked men. Invariably, these stories also see those women reclaim power over their own narratives by brutally punishing the men responsible. In Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill, The Bride stands triumphant, holding a katana over the mangled bodies of those who have tried to do her harm. Jennifer Cheek makes the boys of Jennifer’s Body pay for their misogynist behavior with their own blood, literally feasting on their souls. Revenge socialite Jen reinvents herself as a gory action hero as she literally hunts down the men who violated her.

There are power poses and triumphant musical chords, all acknowledging that justice has, in fact, been served, and that bad men have been disciplined—that a heroine has claimed her power and set the world to rights again. Usually, there’s also no small amount of death and blood along the way. (See also: All three movies mentioned above.)

Initially, it seems as though this is precisely the sort of film that Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman intends to be. Its marketing strategy leans into the idea that Cassie Thomas is a sort of avenging angel in provocative dress, a candy-colored vision who tempts terrible men to their own well-deserved destruction, all set to the sound of a banging orchestral cover of Britney Spears’ “Toxic” in the trailer. But then, too often, that’s what audiences want: an easy solution to a complicated problem, wrapped in some brightly packaged Hollywoodized reassurance that there are, in fact, some sort of consequences for those who do harm to women.

But this isn’t that film, and Promising Young Woman doesn’t particularly care if that fact makes viewers uncomfortable. Instead this is a movie that pushes us to directly confront the harsh, deeply uncomfortable reality of such a situation rather than revel in the entertaining but empty catharsis of a blood-soaked fantasy romp. And that’s precisely what makes Promising Young Woman so incredible—and so difficult—to watch.

This is a feminist revenge movie that lives in the world as we know it today. Here, there is no final reckoning, no bloody triumph, no movie poster-ready stance from a woman who can, finally, put down the emotional burden she’s been carrying, and find the justice she’s been seeking. There’s no real sense that anything that Cassie’s done has made much of a difference at all, and though she does eventually manage to punish her best friend’s rapist, this one single clear victory comes at the cost of her own life.

Throughout its runtime, Promising Young Woman revels in bringing a particularly harsh and ugly truth to light: There’s only so much female rage can do in a world that’s not only set-up to constantly make women fail, but which fails them so utterly in turn.

Read more

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The basics of Cassie’s story should feel pretty familiar to fans of similar female revenge thrillers. A former medical student who dropped out when her best friend killed herself after being raped, Cassie spends her nights wearing an assortment of colorful disguises to local bars and pretending to be falling down drunk. When she lures a seemingly nice guy to her rescue, only to learn that he’s exactly the sort of creep willing to take advantage of a girl who isn’t aware enough to say no, her sly, fourth-wall-breaking smirk clues the audience in on what’s next.

But what actually comes next is likely not what any viewer expected. One of the first surprises of this film—which has many—is that Cassie’s modus operandi isn’t what you’ve been led to believe, and no men are actually harmed on her nightly sojourns. Instead she confronts them directly, using the shock of her sudden sobriety to shame and humiliate these supposedly good guys who think terms like rape, assault, or sexual coercion couldn’t possibly apply to their activities. There’s no explicit punishment, just a few vague threats and the momentarily mortifying exposure of their own hypocrisy.

Yet in truth, that’s all Cassie can do: force these men to experience a tiny piece of the shock and trauma that she, her best friend, and women everywhere have all been through, and hope it’s somehow enough to guilt them into maybe changing their ways next time. Maybe. Or not. There’s every chance these men, convinced of their own nice guy status, will simply write her off as crazy or delusional, an unfortunate mistake that happened while they were really just trying to do the right thing. Promising Young Woman is nothing if not honest about the ways that rape culture works overtime to validate men like this and to reassure them that their actions are always justifiable.

On some level, the truth behind the list of names in Cassie’s little black book feels disappointing. Though, really, it shouldn’t. Far too often in movies like this, female protagonists are asked, even expected, to react to trauma in the same way male ones would: With violence. (Think John Wick, Memento, or even Gladiator.) But in the real world, women rarely resort to such actions, largely because they’re too difficult, and would probably result in injury, death, or imprisonment. (See also: The end of Promising Young Woman.) 

Even the idea that Cassie gets to sail through these shamings unscathed, that none of the men she fools get angry enough for things to turn physical requires more than a little suspension of disbelief. It’s why the achingly long scene of her death feels so realistic and so tragic. Because as much as we don’t want to believe it, female rage can only do so much, and revenge fantasies can only get you so far.

Even as Promising Young Woman allows Cassie to “win” in the end, it’s a pyrrhic victory that comes at the cost of her own life. (And after a lot of preplanning that indicated Cassie herself didn’t expect to survive her visit to see Nina’s rapist.) But the bitter truth is that this film’s ending is much closer to reality than something like Kill Bill or Revenge could ever be. And, as a result, Promising Young Woman is a movie about female rage that acknowledges how inadequate our ways of both discussing and responding to the anger that women feel actually are.

After all, revenge movies, at their core, are really stories about pain. It’s just pain that’s been wrapped up in blood and fury, packaged as something ferocious and terrifying so that no one looks too closely at the broken pieces underneath. But Promising Young Woman isn’t afraid to look at the truth that films like this normally paper over, no matter how brutal and depressing it may be.

It asks us to not only reckon with what we want out of revenge movies, specifically, but the differences in what men can get away with and what women must be willing to die to achieve. Technically, Cassie triumphed in the end here, didn’t she?  So why doesn’t it feel like a victory?

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[bread-elf]

DWC 2020 - Day 26

Trust

Legion "Hey, Shield Mother!" There's a rather timid knock on the door to Jiroki's cabin on her ship. Docked in Marshtide, she shuffled through some documents as she was in the middle of work. Her Shields either socialized on the ship or in the shared camp of the troops. Some contracts had been issued out yesterday and they had returned successfully just hours ago, taking the opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves. "Come in." She calls out, not bothering to look up. The door opens and in peeks the head of Greggory, a silver haired human with an eyepatch who worked as one of her intel sources. "Some of us are going to Ironforge to drink! Do you want to come?" "No thank you." Jiroki still doesn't bother to look up, setting aside a pile of newly sent contracts that she approved of. She still had others to sort through to either accept or toss aside, there's plenty to occupy herself with. "You sure?" Greggory asks again, causing Jiroki to huff as she's interrupted further.

"Yes, I'm sure." She stresses. "Go on."

"Alright, suit yourself." And the door shuts once more.

"Nah not this time." She can hear her Shields talking amongst each other in the ship, reminding her just how thin the walls can be.

"Gotta bloody stick up her ass." A gruff voice of a worgen speaks out, causing Jiroki to frown a bit.

"Shh, she might hear you!"

"Guys stop it, let's just go."

"Last one there buys the first round!"

Like a bunch of children they scamper off, leaving her be. But Jiroki didn't mind, she ran a business, not some adventure's guild. She could lost any of her Shields at a moments notice from this line of work, and she preferred to keep her distance. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You're so frustrating!" Drax'arah, also known ae Drake, snarls at Jiroki, the couple in yet another spat. "Do you know how hard it is to learn anything about you?!" "Why does it matter?!" She fires back. "You already know plenty about me! I don't see a reason to share anything else!" "We're married, Jiroki! I barely know Jack shit of what you used to do. And I'd like to at least know why you cry out people's names at night!" Drake experienced first hand the night terrors that Jiroki gets at times, some reoccurring more than others, but supported her nonetheless. Yet even now officially we'd, she kept her secrets shut like a clam. "How many times do I have tell you I don't want to talk about it?!" Trying not to let her voice raise too much, the twin babes sleeping upstairs. Delo'ran watched the fight occurring, also listening for the children in case they were to wake. But he doesn't step in the fight, letting it occur. "This isn't fair! You know about things have happened to me! If you just tell me these things, then maybe I can stop angering you so much!" "I only know about your past because you dragged me into it!!" Jiroki says harshly. "It caught up with you! I didn't have a choice!" The words came out before she could fully process them, but it was too late. Drake looks at her in shock, pained his own mate would say such a thing, then anger creases over his features. Without saying a word he turns on his heel, heading for the door. "Where are you going?!" Jiroki demands, but he says nothing. Drake opens the door and steps out, slamming it behind him. The walls shake from the force, and upstairs a startled cry sounds as one of the infants begins to cry. "Mother fucker-" Jiroki seethed, trying to ebb away the red she was starting to see, pacing around to try and calm herself. Delo'ran watches her carefully, waiting until she stops pacing to slowly step up behind her. She feels his hands gently grab hold of her shoulders. "Breathe." He says, placing his lips on the back of her head. "Just breathe." Jiroki tries as such, heaving deep breaths, but the crying upstairs doesn't help. "He doesn't understand-"  "How can he?" Delo pulls his head back. "He is right though. It hurts him that he doesn't know how to help you, and you won't let him in." "Don't you take his side!" Jiroki whirls around, beginning to lash out towards Delo as well. "I'm not. But the same goes for me, you know. I wish you'd trust us more." He takes a few steps back, heading towards the stairs. "I'll go check on them." Jiroki is left alone as she hears the footsteps of Delo'ran going up the stairs to see to her children. With trembling hands she starts to stroke back her hair, once more beginning to pace. How could she relive all those terrible times she's faced? The phantom pains burned on her back constantly, the loss of her family and loved ones, it was even a miracle she could bear children after what she had done to her first unborn child, and having to put down Rydras like a dog- Jiroki forced herself to breathe, the trauma hitting her as she started looking around for her medicine. She had some milk saved up in bottles already, she could afford a moment to drug herself, she had been weened off of it for long enough as is for the children. She'll abuse it just this once, then wait until her children no longer need her milk. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jiroki sat with her shirt off, covering her chest for modesty as Ia inspected her back. A group sparring session had just concluded with the Greyshields, but Jiroki had accidentally over exerted herself. Again. "It's not too bad." The Tanaris woman reports, her white hair cropped short as her bangs hanged longer than the rest of the length, covering one eye. "Only one of the blisters reopened. You said someone kicked you?" "Yes…" Only a select few knew of the burns on Jiroki's back, and all of them Jiroki could count on one hand. Though at times that led to complications when someone got too rough with her while sparring. "This will be just a moment." Ia takes a few steps back and squats into a pose done by a follower of the Jade Serpent, and a green mist begins to come from her palms as she ushers them towards Jiroki, letting it fuse into her back. But she paid mind to not go overboard, Jiroki was adamant to keep the scars. Jiroki could feel the wound begin to close and heal. It would help numb her back for a time at least, until she would need to take her medicine again. "With all due respect, Shield Mother." Ia starts. "You really shouldn't hide this from the others. It could jeopardize a mission." "Some of the other medics know." Jiroki says as she starts to redress herself. Only one medic knew in fact, Cylan Moonshadow, a former druid who she had known for some time now. Ia takes a deep breath, her brow creased in disapproval. They have had this conversation numerous times as is, but Jiroki remained stubborn as ever. "As you say." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Reaver designed by the Legion laid dormant in the waters of the swamp, defeated as the warlock Harutan laid on his back on the shore. A blade held deep against his neck, his breathing raspy through his mask as he stares up in horror at his doom, the scarred Kaldorei leering down at him. “Heh, y-you think you’ve won!” He spits up at her, coughing up some blood. “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me!” “That may be the case.” Jiroki sneers back, shouting over her shoulder. “Search for a Soulstone! He has one somewhere!” Harutan gives a gasp, his eyes wide beneath his mask, though Jiroki couldn’t see. “W-Wait, no! You can’t!” “You’re pathetic.” Jiroki glowers down at him. “I’ve dealt with warlocks far more vicious than you.” “We found it. How do you want to handle this?” Kazbocon the gnome says, walking up with some of the other Shields nearby. Rina the worgen and Bastet the Kaldorei, both druidess’ tending to injuries of others who had faced the encounter. Aztook lurked nearby as well, carefully watching his new boss and how she will handles this. Jiroki thought for a time on it, staring down at the warlock as he lay beneath her. A nearly familiar sight, though this form is not nearly as a threat as he’d like to think. “Keep it.” She says. “Lock it up.” Jiroki couldn’t fight the devilish twitch of her lips. “We’ll use him in the future.” “No- no- YOU CAN’T-” Jiroki sinks her glaive into his neck, silencing him. Harutan goes limp, and his soul stone flares to life. Quickly Kazbocon conjures an arcane prism around the soul stone, keeping it stabilized. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Bastet seemed troubled, the young druidess hesitant as she overhears. “Wait- you killed him, but you’re keeping his soul?!” Rina also points out, young as well, in her human form for the time being. “That’s cruel!” “Did you not see what he just tried to do to us?!” Jiroki counters back. “He needs to pay for what he has done, he tried to kill us! It’ll only be for a time; I don’t trust his soul to be free while the Legion still assaults us.” “But that’s not-” “Stop it, girl!” Kazbocon interjects this time. “What’s done is done. Shield Mother, I’ll take care of this personally, I have a place I can store it.” “Good. Thank you.” Jiroki says, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. Rina turns and storms off, Bastet following, and Kazbocon walks off while carefully carrying the stone. “Hmph, lesser mortals.” Jiroki curses in her native tongue, only Aztook around to hear her now. “They don’t understand a bloody thing.” “Hmhm.” Aztook hums in amusement, tilting his head as his sightless gaze stares at her. “They do lack foresight, at times. Almost makes me curious as to what else you understand.” Jiroki turns and raises a brow at the former illidari, the being crazed and mad in his own right as he starts to give her a wicked grin. She rolls her eyes, and storms off, needing to find someone to deal with the body. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jiroki was alone in the ship, and so she had taken a decent dose of her medicine, needing to not feel. Or to feel something, sometimes she couldn’t tell the difference. Sitting at a table in the mess hall of the ship her face laid face down on the table, arms crossed to rest her head as her hair spilled around her shoulders. But sometimes in her state of high her senses were slow, not hearing the footsteps coming into the ship. A hand runs through her hair and tilts her head to the side, someone trying to look at her face. Her eyelids flutter as she tries to open them and focus on who is touching her, and she’s met with a pair of icy blue eyes on a human face. Jiroki sits up in alarm, nearly falling out of her chair, but cold hands grab her. “You are narcotized again.” Daniel Farington, a death knight who served in the Greyshields, states matter of fact. “N-No, I’m not…” Jiroki quickly tries to say. Daniel suffered from memory loss, not having memories of his living life. But through the trauma he went through that also made him forget, he became a bit… Slow. Innocent in a sense, not understanding social skills. “Are you not?” Daniel asks, his voice monotone, but his face expressive as his brows knit together in a confused frown. “You do not like it when you are touched. The only times you are slow to react, are when you have just taken your opioids.” “Daniel, shush!” Jiroki tried her best to keep her addictions a secret, yet Daniel must have been a smart man in life. It was just a shame that in his current state he was too mouthy for his own good. “Yes, sometimes my drugs make me sluggish, but it’s nothing to be concerned about. And you don’t need to tell the others.” Daniel thinks for a time, processing her words in his own way as he finds meaning behind them. “Hm… I see.” He moves them, going to the other side of the table she sat on, and he sits in the chair. “What are you doing?” Jiroki felt her eyes watering, it was harder to keep up the façade. “It is not good for you to be sluggish.” Daniel states. “If an assassin were to come, you would not be able to defend at your full potential. I will monitor you while you rest, until you can move freely on your own.” Jiroki narrows her eyes at him, not wanting to leave herself dependable on this man. “I didn’t order you to do so. You don’t have to stay.” “I will leave if you order me to.” He responds. “But, in… my own feelings, I think. You should not be left alone. I will remain silent.” Daniel always spoke politely, and at times could be sweet, but Jiroki could see that slight bit of stubbornness deep down in him. Jiroki says nothing, feeling her eyes wanting to droop, and so she gives in. Deciding to trust this man for a time, she lowers her head and rides out her high. (( @daily-writing-challenge​ ))

[tsarisfanfiction]

Heated (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Gen Warnings: None Characters: Law, Shachi, Heart Pirates

Law's breath was heavy in his chest. His lungs laboured to draw in the oxygen and exhale the deoxygenised air his body no longer needed. Something cool rested on his forehead, and he mentally catalogued it as some sort of damp cloth. A fever, then, most likely the trail end of one, considering his return to consciousness.

Opening his eyes, his vision was assaulted by several faces looming over him wearing similar expressions of concern that morphed into relieved smiles as they registered his awakening.

"Captain!" his newest find exclaimed. Law noticed that he looked uneasy – that all the crewmembers crowding his personal space looked a little wary despite their smiles – and gave him a grin that he hoped was reassuring. As his senses fully returned to him, it wasn't difficult to pick up on the source of their nervous disposition; although out of his immediate line of sight, his haki picked up a dark aura in the room. Moving his head to the side, seeking the source, his eyes landed on Shachi, who stood a little way back, arms crossed.

The shades always made him harder to read than anyone else in the crew, hiding his eyes and whatever emotions they held. Part of Law wondered if he did it on purpose, refusing to let his eyes be healed so he had the convenient excuse of hiding what he felt when he wanted to. On this occasion, with the brim of his hat pulled low to throw extra shadows over the top of his face, his lips set into a thin line and his clothes, hair and cheek stained with blood, Law didn't need his haki to tell him Shachi was in a bad mood. The black aura only served to sow unease amongst the crew; even those without observation haki could tell that something wasn't right.

The normally cheerful, almost always smiling Shachi rarely fell into such a black mood, so it was unsurprising that even the older members weren't sure how to handle it. Law spared a moment to wonder where Penguin was, and if he would share in Shachi's mood or lighten it. On the rare occasions that the ginger's temper flared up significantly, his best friend was usually there to calm him. His absence was concerning.

"How are you feeling?" His eyes sought out the crewmember that had spoken, landing on the shorter man, and he offered another hopefully-reassuring grin.

"Fine," he told him, trying and failing to ignore the way the haki in the air soured further. "Weaker than usual, but it'll pass." The heavy air intensified again, and Shachi finally joined the circle surrounding his bed – or rather, the infirmary bed he was occupying, he noticed. Their nakama shuffled away slightly, giving Shachi plenty of space to thrust medicine into Law's mouth with little ceremony.

Law swallowed, making a face at the taste, but didn't complain. Whatever fever he'd had may have broken, but he was far from healthy.

"In that case," Shachi said, sounding as if he'd been the one forced to swallow the bitter medicine, "I'll go clean up." The blood must be from their battle – Law vaguely recalled the remains of a marine crashing into him – and he wondered how long his fever had raged for that Shachi had still not cleaned up.

A clink caught his attention in time for him to see one of those damned kairoseki cuffs snap shut around his wrist, and Law glared at him, only to receive an equal glower in return.

"Overusing your abilities landed you in here," Shachi told him bluntly, turning away and walking towards the door. "You don't get to use them again until you're back on your feet." Law watched the older man stalk out of the room, feeling the atmosphere lighten as soon as the door shut behind him, before turning to the members of his crew still present.

"Well?" he asked, managing to shift his wrist enough to lightly jangle the chain attached. Most of the crew were used to the occasional display of mutiny – he would be having words with Shachi when he got the chance – but the newer members had never seen anything of the sort before, so Law levelled them with an expectant look, hoping to coerce them into removing the insufferable restraint.

"Sorry, Captain," the newest whimpered, looking around at his nakama for support. "But… I think Shachi-san would gut me if I touched them." Law frowned. The refusal was hardly new, but he couldn't have Shachi establishing such terror amongst the newer recruits. Nakama should not have to fear each other. Unwilling to unnerve the new pirate further, Law changed the subject.

"Why are the engines running?" he asked, having registered the background rumble.

"We've set sail for the next island," Ikkaku told him, perching on the side of his bed and adjusting the cool cloth on his forehead. Law assumed his temperature was still higher than it should be, even if the main fever had broken.

"How long was I unconscious?" he asked, quickly doing the maths in his head and finding that it didn't work out, unless Shachi had been in the same bloodied clothes for almost a week.

"Approximately six hours," Clione told him, and Law frowned.

"The log pose wasn't due to set for another five days," he pointed out, watching them fidget. "Don't tell me you didn't wait."

"Shachi-san gave the order to set sail," the new recruit volunteered, and Law wished he had the energy to pinch the brow of his nose, because he felt a headache coming.

"And no-one reminded him about log poses?" he asked, wondering where Penguin and Bepo had been throughout all the madness. They looked at each other before shrugging.

"Penguin and Bepo were the ones that took control of the ship," Ikkaku told him and Law sighed. Well that answered that question, if rather unsatisfactorily. Penguin was supposed to be keeping Shachi in check when he came up with stupid ideas, not enabling him, and Bepo never stood a chance against the pair of them in a battle of wills.

"We wouldn't have had to set sail if someone hadn't been an idiot." Ah, the black cloud had returned to the room, still firmly accompanying Shachi, although the ginger was now free of bloodstains. His hair was still wet, dripping slowly onto the floor and Law wanted to forcibly dry it because Shachi knew better than that. More pressing was the issue of Shachi's attitude, though. He had long since crossed the line most captains would consider mutiny, and with that last comment was dancing dangerously close to Law's own definition.

"Sorry, but I want to speak to Shachi alone," he told his crewmates, who took one look at the ginger and all but scarpered from the room.

"What?" Shachi demanded the moment the door shut behind the last one. "You-"

"Do not speak to me like that," Law interrupted in a low growl. "I do not care how angry you are, there is only so much insubordination I can take and you are testing my patience."

If Shachi had been anyone else, anyone he hadn't known for the past eleven years, the resulting glower Law received would have seen him off the ship for good. As it was, Law chalked it up as one more strike in the tally he would be paying for later and took the sullen silence to mean Shachi was done antagonising him for the moment.

"Explain to me exactly why you decided we should set sail without setting the log pose," Law demanded, wishing he had the strength to sit up. He watched Shachi take a deep breath, and then another, clearly calming himself down before he said something they'd both regret. The fact that Penguin had apparently not argued implied that the reason had been genuine, but Law required details.

"It was too dangerous to remain on that island that long," Shachi eventually ground out, having the grace to at least look Law in the eyes – or as best he could tell, with the shades in the way. "If it were only hours, I might have risked it, but five days was too long."

"Why?" There was little that would scare Shachi enough to make a call like that at the crew's current strength. The Marines on the island had been difficult to handle only due to the numerical advantage they'd held, not because they were particularly strong. What else had revealed itself after Law had collapsed?

"One survivor," Shachi told him. "One witness. That's all it would have taken to bring more Marines to us, or even a rival pirate group." Law frowned, but Shachi cut him off before he could express his annoyance that they'd fled for such a cowardly reason. "Our captain just outright fainted in full view of anyone that might have been watching!" Shachi was getting heated again, but as long as he stayed on topic Law would allow it for the moment. "What sort of message does that send out, huh? That we're weakened, easy prey! Every single Marine unit, rival pirate crew and bounty hunter in the area would have been nuts not to jump on that opportunity! We can handle one or two enemies at once, but not everyone in this area of the Grand Line. This isn't North Blue anymore, Captain! They call this the Pirates' Graveyard for a reason!"

Law begrudgingly admitted that Shachi was right, but the ginger wasn't done with his rant.

"What happened to the subterfuge we used to be so good at?" he demanded. "What happened to not drawing attention to ourselves? Making a name for yourself is all well and good-" Law knew Shachi was actually proud of the fact his captain had a decent bounty, when he wasn't wound up and ranting "-but not when you push it too far! You put us all in danger with that stupid stunt of yours!"

Law winced at Shachi's final sentence. He had no doubt it was specifically crafted to hit him where it hurt – Law's crew were everything to him and Shachi knew that – but that didn't mean it was any less effective.

"Don't you dare do that again," Shachi growled, his voice fading back to its normal volume, before turning half away from Law, nudging his shades up with his arm as he swiped at his eyes. The fabric came away damp and Law froze, the missing piece to the puzzle finally sliding into place.

"Shachi…" he murmured.

"My shades slipped," the ginger mumbled, fussing with them. Law didn't buy it, but chose not to call him out on the lie, too stunned at the revelation that should have been obvious.

Shachi had been worried about him. The whole crew had been. They'd set sail, deliberately not following a log pose path, to protect him while he recovered. They'd encounter less ships on this route, and anyone that might have thought to pursue them if word did get out that he'd fainted wouldn't be able to follow them easily.

"Come here," he ordered, gesturing for Shachi to move closer to him, within arm reach. He was instantly obeyed, and Law forced one hand up, resting the fingertips lightly on his cheek. "Close your eyes and take off the shades." Again he was obeyed, and Law was struck by just how much Shachi trusted him as he carefully swiped away the beads of tears that had been forming in a rare show of affection. "You should be more careful," he scolded lightly, letting Shachi hold up the pretence that the tears were from light exposure and not overflowing emotions.

"I'll try," Shachi replied, a weak grin gracing his face as Law let his arm fall back to his side, permitting the ginger to replace his shades.

"Good," Law said. "And Shachi?"

"Hmm?" the older man hummed, looking at him questioningly. The dark aura had lessened significantly during their talk, to Law's relief.

"I'm sorry."

Shachi grinned properly, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Law tightly.

"Don't do it again," he scolded lightly. Law didn't bother replying to that, smiling into damp ginger hair.

"One last thing," he said after several minutes, as Shachi finally began to pull back. "I want you to apologise to the crew. You were angry at me, don't take it out on them." Shachi bit his lip and tugged the peak of his cap down, casting his face firmly in shadow again.

"I wasn't angry at you," he mumbled. "Not really." Law lifted an eyebrow, clearly recalling the way the ginger had ranted at him. "I was angry at myself. I didn't notice at all! I was just blindly sorting out the loot on the boat while you were getting weaker and weaker. The new guy had to point it out to me. We've been nakama for so long… but I couldn't even see that."

There were tears rolling down Shachi's cheeks again, but this time he made no move to wipe them away as he reached out and undid the cuffs with a quiet clink, startling Law. He'd expected them to stay on until he was fit enough to get out of bed at the very least.

"Don't use your fruit for a while, yeah?" Shachi said, heading for the door. "I'll be back soon. Got some nakama to apologise to."

Law watched him leave, for once the idea of using his abilities to end his misery faster unappealing to him. He'd used them too much already, and Shachi would blame himself for leaving him unsupervised without the cuffs if he exhausted himself again.

Law had had quite enough of Shachi blaming himself for one day.