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oneofthosesimps · 4 years ago

Text

Freak like Me

pairing: levi x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 6230

summary: as soon as the reader enters levi's life, something changes in him. reader's madness spills over and he slowly changes

warnings: mention of blood (not yours), rough sex, dirtytalk, daddy kink, swearing, dom x dom, fight scene

authors note: although i wanted to write shorter stories again, this one somehow got longer again. i tried my hand at an action scene, but i still have to practice a lot. somehow i had strong harley x joker vibes and they had to come out, sorry.

all credits to the artist of this pic:

Lensar on DeviantArt

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Your gaze falls into the depths of the forest before you close your eyes. Bright rays of sunlight fall through the branches above you and warm your face. You hear birds chirping around you, the crackling of the wood beneath you, the rustling of leaves swirling in a gust of wind. You breathe deeply as your open hair blows back. You hear your heart beating quietly in your chest as the silence embraces you like an old friend. What does freedom mean? What does life mean? You are sure that this is pretty close to the source. The people behind the wall, who go about their lives every day hoping to see the next day, would never get to see this world. Especially not the people you left behind in the underground.

A grin plays around your lips as you hear the hissing far off in the distance. The trees groan behind you under the force with which the hooks bore into their bark. That took a long time, you think to yourself, as ropes speed past you. You hear the chatter and shouts of your comrades in fragments, shattering the silence around you. Blurred faces shoot past you one after the other.

You spread your arms and stretch them away from you. One last deep breath fills your lungs before you hold your breath. Slowly your body falls backwards before you lose your footing beneath you and plunge headlong into the depths. The air hisses loudly past your ears, your body spins around itself. You are weightless, the green blurs around you before your whole body is pressed full force into your harness and you are yanked back up. You hear the gas sweep around you as you fly through the air, trailing the others. Your hooks bore further away into the trunk of a thick, old tree. You take momentum, flying high into the treetops, letting the ropes come back to you. Unsecured, you fall through space. Your body does a backward roll, allowing you to observe the forest floor for a brief moment. The moss nestles around the roots of the trees, single brown leaves cover the forest path, bodies move forward beneath you, you can still see a squirrel quickly making its way to safety before your body returns to its normal position and you dig your hooks into a tree again. You zip between the trees, your cape flying behind you, your face brushing some branches that bore into your tender skin. You hear the pop of a cannon being fired and see red smoke in the sky northwest of you.

Immediately you change direction, sprinting forward, leaving behind other cadets who still haven't processed what is happening. Arriving in a clearing, you find your place on a thick branch high above. Further in the distance, you see the shaking of trees, the earth shaking slightly, making the grass dance on the ground. You hear heavy footsteps, still moving slowly.

The branch below you moves and you look to your right. Silver eyes stare at you from beneath tousled black hair, eyeing your small body.

"You really do have to keep pushing forward." You hear more bodies land on the trees behind you and the wood weighs down slightly. The rest of your squad waits for instruction from your captain.

"I guess this is why I'll never get my own Squad, sir."

You turn your gaze back to the direction the titan is coming at you from and grin.

"What do you think, fifteen seconds?"

"Mmm, more like ten," Levi guesses, and the tremor intensifies. A huge hand grips around a tree trunk, pulling out from between the trees, and big eyes stare at you. Nearly ten-metres high, abnormal.

"Let's see what you can do then, humanity's strongest soldier." He snorts and rolls his eyes before his whole body moves forward with a jerk. He pulls his swords from their holsters and places them close to his body. With an ease and without the titan even noticing him, he cuts a chunk out of his neck. Before Levi even gets back beside you, the giant falls to the ground and starts to steam.

That wasn't even seven. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, the blood on his face slowly disappears and he looks at you. A small smirk curls his lips, "Brat."

You snort and slam your fist against his shoulder.

Special.

That's the word everyone would use to describe your relationship.

Special.

The first time Levi laid his eyes on you, when he saw you among all the new, shitty cadets, his foot hit your stomach area shortly after. You lacked respect and you lacked punctuality and discipline too. Another pile of shit he had to deal with - or work on until it headed home in tears.

The day after that, he hit your face with his fist. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, panting, you looked up at him. Wiping blood from your lips, you grinned at him and looked at him with wide eyes, your pupils exploding. "That's all you got, sir." Just as he was about to grit his teeth and lunge with his foot to beat the living daylights out of you, Hange stopped him. He tore himself away from her and knelt down to you, looking at you with dead eyes, "I'm going to make your fucking life a living hell." Your tongue licked over your lower lip, wiping away the remaining blood and your grin widened, "Try me."

He kept his word, always picking you out, giving you more tasks, making you run round after round, cleaning the whole headquarters, beating up your little body several times, but to his displeasure you did it all flawlessly. Yes, you lacked respect and also punctuality and discipline, but your performance was amazing, almost close to his. And when he finally saw the potential in you that Erwin had been talking about all along, it suddenly stopped - he left you alone, saw you with different eyes. Something changed in him, as if a plug had been pulled. You watched each other across the field during training, in mess hall at dinner, every spare minute your eyes spent on each other and gradually butterflies crept into the pit of your stomach. And you had the feeling that behind the cold silver there was something deep and dark that you wanted to bring to the surface. Your exchanges were still kept to a minimum, however, until there was another bang.

"That's the stupidest plan I've heard in a long time," you snort, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, brat?" You roll your eyes and stare at him just as coldly as it hits you. The temperature in the room drops noticeably and the others at the table hold their breath. No one dares to say anything. No one would dare say anything. The moonlight from outside shines in, the candles in the room flicker slightly and trace sharp edges on your faces.

"That's the stupidest plan I've heard in a long time," you repeat louder, "Better, sir?"

Levi's eyes blaze and he stares at you. His eyebrows draw together, the corners of his mouth drop. You see Armin open his mouth speechlessly to your right.

Your hairs stand up, the electricity rises and you bite your lower lip, grinning.

"You doubt my plan?" says Levi low and monotone. Jean's hand lands on your shoulder and he grips it, pressing you into your seat to save you from your own stupidity, but it wasn't you who was stupid, it was the whole plan Levi had just explained to you.

"Not only do I doubt it, but I also have a better one," your grin widens as Levi's liquid silver darkens. "Let me fight on the front lines. Mikasa is good, but I'm better".

"For that, you're an incorrigible little bitch who won't listen to my orders".

"Yes, because my plans usually make more sense".

"You're not ready for that. Your cluelessness only makes you run from one titan to another. That statement alone shows me how small your brain is if you're not even aware of it and now shut your mouth."

Jean's grip tightens, but you just push his hand away from you. After your next blink, your heart jumps a tiny bit as you see Levi's annoyed face. He is always good at holding back his anger and it never shows. In fact, he almost never shows any emotion, but you see right through him. He has it bubbling up inside him. Never contradicts him and if he does, the person suffers a thousand deaths afterwards. But between you it is somehow different, tingling. It gives you the greatest pleasure to see him like this and you know, deep inside him, a voice is telling him that he enjoys it too. Others would describe you as crazy and full of the courage to live, but that's what makes it all so appealing.

"Maybe we can find a compromise?" suggests Armin and you see the sweat on his brow as he almost shits himself at the words. You roll your eyes and look back at Levi.

"I thought you wanted to make my life hell. So that's a good start," you remind him of the first words he ever said to you.

"Your plans are bullshit. If I let you keep fighting up front, you'll probably get yourself killed by your insanity, " he growls, almost at his limit. But only almost.

You lean over slightly, look at him, smile slightly, grin, bite your lip again, breathe, "I have a feeling you like this madness, Levi."

He tenses slightly, draws his eyebrows together again as his name passes your lips. Connie coughs and tries to draw attention to himself, but everyone ignores him. It seems like everyone is in a state of shock because you simply addressed him by his first name. Everyone watches spellbound as you literally eye-fuck each other. Do they like the show? Almost at his limit.

"Tch, what did you just call me, brat?" his voice gets louder and his hands form into fists. You lean back in your chair again and look at him, bored.

"Oh, I didn't know you had such bad hearing. Don't you like Levi? That's your name, isn't it? Do you prefer Sir? Or Captain? Or maybe," your eyes looked up at him, burning into him, "Daddy?" At his limit. Pathetic.

A deep dark sound comes from his throat and the others hold their breath again. His whole posture grows stronger and wider. You see the muscles working under his clothes, see veins popping on his hand and you feel butterflies in your stomach. His eyes are black. You all sit like that for a few seconds. You watch his gestures and his face change emotions. Without warning, his right hand hits the table flat, "Fuck off."

The sound cuts through the silence and the weaklings among you flinch. Confused, no one moves, while your eyes do not leave each other's. Armin is about to open his mouth and Jean is about to put his hand on your shoulder again when Levi stands up with a jerk, his chair tipping backwards and hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

"I said fuck off," he roars, looking around with a death glare.

Chairs squeak, footsteps run across the wooden floor, making it creak.

"What have you done now?" whispers Jean in your ear and you give him a look before he walks behind the others and the door closes.

The scene stops again and you stare at Levi. Both hands flat on the table in front of him, leaning on his arms and looking down, he stands there. You can no longer see his eyes as his long black strands fall into his face, but you notice his tense jaw. Your heart leaps again. He was so handsome. Especially when he was angry. Finally, you break the silence.

"Great, now you've scared everyone," you sigh and roll your eyes.

"What are you doing?", Levi hisses back at you, spitting venom and bile, finally raising his head. His eyes blaze again and your core drips.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know your place, so start acting like it, you piece of shit."

"I wish my place was naked in front of you." Before Levi has taken in what you've said, you stand up, pushing the chair back a little as you do so, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep too. The day was exhausting and I need to rest to be fit for the expedition. So, I can sit my ass off nicely in midfield."

You turn away from him and your heart slips slightly into your pants. Never turn your back on the enemy. "But of course, it makes much more sense for Mikasa to fight in front and me in the back. Makes sense."

You can take two steps as his hand wraps firmly around your wrist. He squeezes too tightly, hurting you, and you grin again.

"Repeat what you said." His voice is so low it sends a shiver down your spine. Your expression changes and, playfully annoyed, you turn to face him.

"Do you mean the part where I explained that I was going to sit my ass off." He growls and you almost groan. The tension was heavy and hot.

"Stop playing games. My patience is running out."

You lick your lower lip again, wetting it before biting down on it. "I know this isn't about the fucking mission," Levi looks at your mouth. You take a step closer to him, looking up at him from below. "I wish my place was naked in front of you, Daddy," you breathe.

In that split second, his lips land on yours. Two forces of nature collide and you almost topple backwards. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you against him, and you finally moan. He bites your lower lip hard and you open your mouth in pain. He takes the opportunity to dig his tongue deep between your lips. He presses himself against your body and you slam into the wall behind you. A pain runs through your head as your tongues circle each other, fighting to see who has the upper hand. Your hands go into his hair, reaching deep into his mane, and you pull his head closer to you. Big hands grip your waist and he lifts you up with ease so you can wrap your legs around him. His hands travel under your thighs, squeezing the flesh before he drills them into the fat of your ass. Your teeth collide as you drill your tongue deeper into his mouth, exploring his mouth cavity. He releases the kiss and a thread of spit connects you. You lay your head back and lick over your swollen, sore lips as he places his mouth on your vein, kissing your pulse before licking along it.

"Took you long enough to finally decide to fuck me."

"Shut your mouth, brat," he breathes against your neck before biting into it and sucking on it.

"I swear, if you leave hickeys ..." you groan.

"What then? Are you going to hit me with your little fists?"

"You mean like you did to me all those times? Nah, I'm not an asshole like you. But you probably secretly get off on it."

He bites your neck, just above your pulse, and your head slams back against the wall behind you, making you see stars. He smirks as his nails dig into you and you claw into his shirt. Your panties are completely wet and your juice leaks out of you incessantly. You moan loudly as his teeth dig deeper into your flesh. This was far too good to be true. Your left hand goes into his hair again, you pull at the strands and tear him away from you. He makes a face and you press your lips to his again, biting his lower lip until you taste blood. He gasps and pushes your head away from him, "You're crazy."

You grin broadly at him. "We've been over this," you lick his lower lip apologetically, "and I can see you like it." His gaze is on your face as you wrap your arms around him. "You like crazy, you will stick your dick in crazy." A dark sound escapes him and your nails run over his neck. "You can't even argue with me, you want to fuck this crazy bitch so badly."

His lips land on yours again and you grin against him before moaning into his mouth as he presses you tighter against the wall. His hands leave your ass, skimming up the sides of your waist before moving forward to your chest. Two of his fingers find their way along between the buttons, stroking the sensitive skin. Your belly grows warm with the butterflies inside him. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist and run your hand under the fabric of his shirt at the nape of his neck, running it over the muscles of his shoulders and it shakes you with pleasure.

His strong hands grip the fabric of your blouse and without warning, he rips the front apart, sending the buttons flying across the room. You bite your lip as his arms fall around your waist to hold you in place. "You shouldn't have taken your anger out on my blouse," you moan as he kisses the bulge above your right collarbone and licks along it.

"Would you rather I took it out on you?" he murmurs as he bites into that thin skin too, sucking on it and sure to leave a hickey.

"Yes, I don't know you any different."

He continues to lick forward, kissing the ridge at the end of your neck, licking over a mole at the beginning of the mound of your breast. His right hand comes away from your waist, grips your left breast and kneads it. You claw into his shoulders, leaving marks as he pushes the cup off it and you feel his hand skin on skin. Almost painfully, he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and you push your back through, coming to meet him.

"Mmm, you like that?" he murmurs and you can hear his grin.

"I never thought you'd be this good at it," you mock, before you make a grimace and groan. Pain runs through you as he bites down on your nipple and then his lips wrap around it and he sucks on it. The sensation extends to your fingertips and your toes, coursing through your whole body. You close your eyes, savouring and moaning his name as he bites into it again. He sucks harder on it, lifting his head slightly and releasing it with a plop. He circles your nipple with his tongue and licks it slowly and pleasurably. The knot in your stomach tightens and your head is fogged.

"More," you moan into the room. You tug at the piece of fabric covering him and press your core tighter against him.

"Don't be so impatient, idiot."

"I'm not impatient, you're just slow."

He pulls your whole body down a bit, pressing his bulge into your centre. You curse because the fabric between you is annoying and rub against him greedily.

"Slowly then?" he purrs against your ear and comes towards you, rubbing against you too, "I'll keep that in mind." He grips you again and lifts you away from the wall. You let yourself fall against him and moan against his neck, licking it as you continue to try and build pressure.

Shortly after, your bottom touches the table and he releases your weight. You seize the opportunity and do the same to him, yanking him out of his shirt.

"Tch, but I'm venting my anger," he leans over you, capturing your lips again. Immediately your tongues meet. Greedily your fingers touch his body, stroking his soft skin beneath your fingers, feeling individual scars over, which you let your thumb wander. You caress each and every muscle and gape at his well-built body. He surpasses every single one of your fantasies that you imagined while he was training or just cleaning. You follow his muscles down to the V of his pelvis and a deep moan comes over him as you undo the buckle of his belt. His hands also find their way to your trousers, undoing them, and he releases the kiss. He goes to the floor, kneels in front of the table where you are still sitting and looks up at you. Slowly he takes off your boots without taking his eyes off you. You watch him spellbound, a grin falling on your lips again. He pulls at your trouser legs and you lift your bottom, helping a little so that he can brush the fabric off your legs.

His hands run over your feet and you shake yourself slightly before he kisses them.

"Mmm," you moan, "I could see you like this more often, Captain." You bite your lower lip as his hands slide along your legs. Again, and again his lip or tongue hits your skin, caressing it and you are sure you would leave a stain on the neatly cleaned table. At the latest, when his lips lick the insides of your thighs, your hands clasp the edge of the table. You groan and your right hand goes into his hair, claws into it. His hands settle on your legs, pushing them apart, and his warm breath touches your core. He looks at the dark fabric separating his face from your lower lips and licks his lips. How will you taste? There is a distinct stain, your juice colours the fabric a shade blacker and his hard cock presses against his still closed trousers. He draws in the air around him and he groans. You smell so incredibly good, how much he'd like to taste you. How much he would like to fuck you.

When you notice his fingers gently stroking your pussy and he grips the fabric to pull it aside, you moan again and pull on his head.

Painfully he is pulled back and you close your legs.

"What are you doing, idiot?" he gasps in annoyance, his face contorting at the sting.

"I don't feel like playing this time," you murmur, grinning. "My patience is wearing thin," you repeat his words from earlier, "I don't feel like waiting anymore."

You press your toes against his chest and push him backwards. He is slightly off balance, staggers and falls into the chair behind him.

"Unzip your pants already", you stand up and your hands each rest on the back of the chair next to his head, your breasts dangling in his face, "Go ahead".

Completely caught off guard, he undoes the button and then the zip. You grin again and lean forward towards him. Your lips meet his jaw, kissing along it to his ear and you put your mouth to the shell of his ear, "And now you take out your big cock."

He growls slightly and does as you command. Your gaze falls briefly on his hard erection and a shiver comes over you, your butterflies dancing inside you.

"That's much better, isn't it, Daddy?" you see his Adam's apple dangle as he swallows hard and you look into his eyes. You place one leg on each side of his body. Your hands slide from the back of the chair to his shoulders and you claw into them. Still covered with a piece of cloth, you rub your cunt over his hard cock, which presses against it. You moan and he does the same, putting his hands on your waist and squeezing. His eyes close and he puts his head back in his neck, "Do it already."

"Anything my daddy wants," your hand grips the thin fabric and pulls it aside. Drops of your juice hit him, mixing with his precum and you rub it along your slit before gripping his shaft and sliding his thick tip inside you.

Never would you have expected him to be so big. Your walls press tightly against him as he slides inch by inch into you. Your eyebrows draw together because it feels so good. Levi gasps slightly beneath you as you swallow him slowly.

"You're huge," you sigh contentedly as he's fully inside you, and you twitch your walls, his fingers buried deep in the flesh of your waist. His jaw seems tense, but his eyes look at you half-closed. His irises are no longer visible. "God, so fucking huge. We should have done this so much sooner. I think it's tearing me apart," you grin wide and happy as you feel a slight burn.

"If I had known how good you looked doing that, I would have fucked you sooner."

"Yeah, would you have?" you look deep into his eyes as you move upwards, his cock sliding completely out of you and you lower yourself back down onto him, "Do you like the way I ride your cock?" Your movements slowly quicken and you hear the smacking of your cunt as it swallows his cock again and again.

"Do you like the way your thick cock keeps digging deep into me?" He growls out and starts to come towards you. His hips thrust upwards, hitting you hard. As he does, you don't part your gaze for a second and it feels like you can glimpse his soul.

"Do you like the way my cunt milks you?" Levi digs one hand into the fat of your ass, pulling on it and baring his teeth. You dig your nails into his back as he changes the angle and bumps against your G-spot. The sounds of his balls hitting your ass and the mixing of your fluids grow louder. You become incredibly hot and start to sweat.

"Do you like the way I moan your name?" you add a long Levi at the last word and he stares at you like you're a goddess. His goddess.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he murmurs in a dry, heavy voice.

"That you ever thought otherwise hurts my heart." You ram your fingernails deeper into his back and pull at the skin, leaving deep marks.

"I'll never think anything else again," he groans up at you. By now you are no longer riding him. Instead, he holds you in place above him, your feet no longer even touching the ground, and he thrusts into you with a brutality that leaves you breathless. The knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter and you bite his shoulder to stifle a scream. He fucks you like a madman, pressing his body hard against yours and enjoying the feel of your hard nipples against his chest. He tries to get even deeper, to push against your cervix, but the position is too shitty for that.

"That won't do," he groans, suddenly lifting you up. With his pants at his ankles and you in his arms, he walks back to the table, lays you down on it ungently and buries himself in you again. He grips your legs with his hands, rests them on his shoulders and increases his speed further. He fucks you into the hard wood of the table and puts his head back, moaning your name loudly. He comes so far inside you, you feel pain deep inside you. Such good pain.

"God, your cunt is so tight. I never want to feel anything else ever again." You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Your breath has long left your lungs and your brain can't make anything up. Your little body is concentrating solely on how his fat cock is being pushed into you, how he is tearing your little hole in two and how incredible this feeling is. Because of this, you just mumble something to yourself, which makes him grin, "Suddenly I guess your mouth isn't so big anymore." Again, you try to say something, but it is in vain. Your head is full of fog and all you can think about is how he should thrust harder, even deeper, which is no longer possible, and how he should take you. You want him to ruin you, for everything and everyone. Every night he should do this to you so that you can never stand or sit again. You just want to be his little plaything.

"Good to know I can shut you up like this." His cock hits your G-spot hard and makes you see stars. You moan loudly and reach for something to claw into, but there's nothing. "Alright, I guess silent isn't quite the right word".

He's fucking you so well and you glare at him as he stares at you and you bite your lip, your breathing becoming more uncontrolled and you nod slightly at him to signal how close you are. He grins and you push your back through as he thrusts into you one last time and you explode, screaming his name and losing your grip on the earth.

That was probably the beginning of your death - and probably that of every other - but who knows for sure. The two of you were quite a force on your own, but as a duo you were invincible. Soon, word got out about what had happened. You could have tried to deny it, but it wasn't difficult to guess, since you were ever the only person allowed to disobey Levi and get away alive. Moreover, your loud moans could be heard throughout the building. Everyone should know that you now belong to each other. Your madness spilled over onto him. You had nothing left to lose - except each other and you swore you would only leave this hell together.

"Listen up, shitheads," Levi turns his attention to the people behind you and you follow his gaze, "we're going to do another round and secure the perimeter before we set up camp here for the night."

"Yes, sir," everyone but you shouts in unison and salutes. You roll your eyes.

Your gaze, on the other hand, averts and you direct it to the trees around you. The birdsong has died down and the wind has receded. The branch beneath you sways slightly again as Armin lands on it and turns to talk to Levi. You ignore them both and continue to look around. No wind, but the leaves sway back and forth. You close your eyes and concentrate. Far in the distance you can hear a river making its way through the ground. There is a faint smell of wet moss and it is all so peaceful. Far away you hear the tapping of a woodpecker looking for its food before it suddenly stops. You tear your eyes open and clutch the handles of your equipment. A moment later you see the bird fluttering overhead with a loud bird song. Your eyes fall on Levi and over Armin's shoulder he looks at you. He raises an eyebrow before your typical grin falls to your lips and his expression slips.

You shoot your hooks, which bore into a tree and you fly away. Behind you, you hear the shouting of others and more gas being consumed as you make your way through the forest. You build up speed and zoom past the many trees. You race in the direction from which you just heard the woodpecker. You hear a stomping sound that gets louder and louder the closer you get to it, before you see two huge figures running past you on your left. You didn't expect two, but that only means one more point on your kill scale. Your hands grip the handles of your 3DMG tighter and adrenaline rushes through your bloodstream. You draw in a deep breath through your nose as you suddenly change direction and race towards them. In the distance, you catch sight of your squad and see Levi racing ahead of them after you. He is stronger than you, but you are faster. He has left the squad behind with ease and does not look happy. His rage-filled face makes you feel like you're on fire and a shiver runs down your spine.

"Sorry," you shout loudly to them as you fly through the air and your hook bores into a titan's shoulder. You hear Levi yell your name, but you ignore him. Unfortunately, this distracts the two titans and they notice you. They stop and look around before spotting Levi.

The smaller titan is just under eight metres tall, the other about two metres taller, both of course abnormal. You whirl around the larger one and draw your swords, placing them against your small body, ready for battle. You hiss at his neck, but while he has not yet set his sights on you, the smaller one turns his attention to you and looks at you with wide eyes. He reaches out his hand to you. You curse loudly and drill your hook into a tree above you to get away from him quickly. It is just enough that when he closes his hand, you are not caught in it. Instead, your sole touches his huge finger and you push off against him in addition to putting more land between him and you. On the other side of the field, you see Levi whirling through the air, attracting the little titan's attention. He puts up his swords ready to fight, but you are quicker, get in his way and cut the titan's neck with a smooth slice. The first titan goes down, begins to steam and you are left with the larger one. As you fly through the air, you drill your hooks into his arm and pull yourself towards him. Just before you get on top of him you change direction and fly towards his shoulder. The titan looks around and tries to spot you again, but you are too fast. The next time your hooks hit a tree in the distance. You fly towards his neck, your swords just setting when your ropes suddenly loosen. The titan has lashed out, ripping them out of the tree. You tear open your eyes, more adrenaline finding its way into your bloodstream, your heart pounding against your chest. For the moment, your course is not altered, so your cut glides through him perfectly and he falls slowly to the ground. But you fall with him. You try to drill your hooks back into a tree, but apparently, he has damaged your equipment, so nothing happens. Panic shoots into your head as you get closer and closer to the ground. You close your eyes and brace yourself for impact before you hit the ground. Your air is ripped from your lungs, your body aches under the contact and the wind flies around your ears. You cling to the body against you and rest your head against its neck. Black tea and lemon. As soon as your feet touch ground, he sets you down and pushes you off him. You stagger back and see the faces of the rest of your comrades, who look at you in horror.

"What was that about, you retard?!" snarls Levi at you, and you see his tense jaw and the deep creases on his forehead, his lips pressed hatefully into a line, as he presses his eyebrows together.

"I don't know what you're upset about. I had the situation under control." You pat the dirt off your clothes, hoping he doesn't see your slightly wobbly legs. You take a deep breath and look up at him. That was more action than you planned. To be honest, the situation got out of hand, but you would never admit that - especially not in front of Levi.

"Under control?! You call that under control! You disobeyed my order!" he yells at the whole forest and you see Krista wince.

"I killed them, what more do you want? If you hadn't come, I would have finished faster."

"He almost killed you!"

"Right, almost," you grin at him and undo the straps of your equipment, letting it fall to the floor. It is no longer of any use and simply means more burden that you would have to carry around with you. You kick it lightly and it rattles. Everyone seems shocked, and Levi clenches his hands into fists. You bite your lower lip, "You were there, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm not always, maron!"

"Yeah, and I'm good at taking care of myself in those moments," you stride towards him and place your hands on his tense chest, "Daddy."

You wink at him and the others almost skin it at your words. Eren is probably already thinking about running away before Levi takes his anger out on him. You stroke his shirt and he stares at you. His anger is immeasurable, but you can see something else mingling in his gaze and he relaxes slightly.

"You'll pay for that later," he murmurs and you lick your lips.

"I expected nothing less."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi heichou #attack on titan #aot #snk #smut

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deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

--------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let��s drop the whole thing now.”

--------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

-----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

-----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

-------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

-----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

-------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

-----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room. This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

-------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

--------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU��RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

--------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

-----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

-------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

--------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

#the mandalorian #the armorer #din djarin #boba fett #dinluke #ficlet #don't mind me I just need answers #and in their absence I make them myself

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corruptedconfessions · 4 years ago

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Yandere!Barbarian!Bakugo x reader

Barbarian!Bakugo Restraints - “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

I changed the prompt to be gender neutral along with the rest of the fic!

If anyone wants to send in more Barbarian Bakugo prompts or requests I would love that. Or ask for a pt 2 smut sequel where he fucks you for the first time k thankksss

Also just to cover all the bases, I don’t mention the readers size, but Barbarian Bakugo is b I g. Like fat gum big but with muscles. Tall thicc man, could probably lift a house (jk...unless?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had all started with a flower.

Well, it wasn’t quite that simple. But the flower stuck out to you. You had been out in the woods, searching for an herb that you needed. As the village healer you tried to keep a high stock of the basics you needed at all times, and the spring this year had brought a round of illness through the village, so your fever suppressing herbs were running low. Which was how you ran across…him.

He had nearly scared you to death, slumped against a tree, a large gash crossing his entire chest, bleeding out sluggishly onto the forest flooring. You were shocked and frightened by his size, he was well over six feet, built like a warrior, all hard edges and muscle. Still, your kind heart gave you no choice other than to stop to help.

“Are you…okay?”

You hesitantly reached out for him, flinching back when his head suddenly snapped up, crimson eyes meeting yours as his face curled into an ugly snarl.

“Do I fucking look okay?”

He moved, almost as if he was going to lunge at you, only to wince collapsing back against the tree when that opened the wounds that had just started to clot shut. Even more red splattered to the ground, matching his eyes as he gave pained ragged gasps.

“You shouldn’t move, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He glared at you even more, giving you a look that just screamed ‘no shit’, you supposed it was a little pointless to say that now, but still.

“Here…let me help.”

You ignored the angered snarls that were aimed at you as you moved closer. He couldn’t do much other than glare at you, and both of you knew it, emboldened by this you stepped closer, eyes scanning over his injuries.

“...I can help you with this.”

His gaze sharpened on you, drifting briefly down to your basket that held the herbs and flowers you had been collecting before focusing back on you.

“The fuck do you mean? I don’t need your shitty help you-”

He cried out collapsing in pain when you pushed against the wound on his chest, raising an eyebrow at him as you did so.

“You were saying?”

He growled gritting his teeth as he glared you down. Oh if looks could kill~

“Tch. Whatever. Do whatever you want, peasant.”

You scowled slightly at him but brushed off the insult, chalking it up to the man probably being scared and in a lot of pain, even if he did put on this tough guy act.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

You spent the entire day tending to the man, running out into the forest and grabbing plants and herbs to help heal him. You carefully made salve for his wounds, tore your own clothes for clothes to wipe him down and wrap him up in. You cleaned his wounds, dressed them, and bandaged them tight. You even gave him plants to chew on to help with the pain, something he took eagerly even if he did bite your thumb.

He was near unconscious by the time you were done, eyes hazy and glazed over. Still he was no longer wincing in pain and as you wiped at his chest it came away clean, showing that the bleeding had stopped. The wounds were still nasty but at least they were properly cleaned and dressed now.

“I’m all finished.”

You sat back, taking in his form, now bathed in the soft beams of the sunset. He almost looked cute like this, rested against the tree, hair glowing and face soft. It reminded you of…

You paused turning slightly to pull a flower out of your basket of herbs-A bright red lily to be exact. You smiled gently at him as you tucked it into his hair, just above his ear.

He snarled at you, snapping his teeth menacingly and causing you to flinch back, but the flower stayed. You couldn’t help but continue smiling gently down at him as you stepped back, meeting his gaze as he glowered at you, a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

Your hands still shook slightly in fright but you couldn’t help but compare his fit to that of a cornered cat. Small, helpless, and yet you always ended up being scratched.

If only you knew how sharp his claws really were then and there. If only you had turned around and left him to bleed out instead of helping him, giving him a fighting chance of surviving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Fire rained down around you, bits of flaming rooftops rained down around you as you ran through the streets of your once peaceful village.

Barbarians. They had swooped in in the dead of night, their war cries piercing the peaceful silence of your village. There was no warning, no mercy, just fire and death.

You dodged the bodies of the people you had grown up with, the people you had loved. You wanted to cry, wanted to mourn, but you needed to keep running, to survive even if they couldn’t. You had gotten lucky, you had managed to hide, undetected as the warriors stormed through your part of the village, and now you needed to run before they came back.

But your luck had already run out.

You had run blindly through the streets, smoke burning your eyes and blurring your vision. You were so focused on the tree line, your only chance of escape that you didn’t even notice the hulking figure standing in the middle of the road, backed turned to you until you quite literally barreled right into him. You grunted as you fell back onto your butt, staring up at the blonde with wide shocked eyes as he turned around. Anger and irritation was on his face until he saw you, a disgusting twisted grin making its place on his blood covered face as he stared down at your trembling form, you stared right back, eyes wide.

It was that man. The man from the woods all those weeks ago. What was he doing here? Was he…was he part of this invasion? Your blood ran cold as he grinned, a cruel sharp grin. His cape blew behind him in the wind, and your eyes couldn’t help but immediately lock onto the decoration hanging from his sword holder.

It was your flower. The flower you had given him. Dried and preserved, pressed between wax and tied to his sword’s sheath. His grin widened when he noticed what you were looking at, his chest puffing out as he stepped closer to you.

“It’s about fucking time. Hows my little bitch doing? You sure made it hard for us to find you~”

You yelped as he leaned down, roughly grabbing your arm as he hauled you off the ground, pulling you against his chest as the arm that wasn’t nearly crushing your wrist wrapped around your waist. You nearly threw up as you were pressed against him, the blood on his chest smearing across your cheek. He smelled like blood, fire, death. The stench strong enough your stomach rolled.

“L-let go of me-!”

Once you were snapped out of your stupor you immediately started hitting feebly at his chest, trying to pull your poor abused wrist from his grasp as you squirmed. Nothing worked, it was like the man was built out of stone, you were unable to move even an inch in his grip and hitting at his chest felt like punching stone. All it did was make him laugh cruelly down at you as he leaned down slightly, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Feisty~ I like that.”

He smacked your ass, grinning and laughing that cruel cackle again when you yelped, jerking in his grip. You squirmed on his shoulder but all that got you was a pinch to your ass and a rough order to hold still as he walked off with you. It was like you weighed nothing to him, he held you up with one arm, you could see from where your head hung upsidedown the muscles in his back rippling as he shifted you.

You were forced to stay limp over his shoulder as he carried you all the way across the village, any squirming or attempts to fight led to pinches to your ass and thighs, hard enough you were sure to be littered with sensitive bruises come morning.

Just as you were starting to get dizzy from the blood rushing to your head you were suddenly pulled off of his shoulder, thrown onto a horse, your captor immediately joining you. A muscled arm wrapped around you, pulling you back to his chest as he yelled out another war cry. You could feel the eyes of other barbarians on you as they joined his cry of victory. You couldn’t help but shake as your ears rang from the noise as it finally hit you as he snapped the stirrups of the horse, propelling the both of you forward. He wasn’t going to kill you, he was going to keep you. Or at the very least take you back to his camp to tear apart before discarding. You couldn’t let that happen! You started squirming again in his hold, tears starting to stream down your face as you shoved at his bloodied chest, hysterical and frightened. The arm that was wrapped around you quickly moved, his hand snapping up to grip your chin tight enough you swore you could hear your teeth cracking under the pressure. Red eyes, bloody red eyes stared down at you as he smirked cruelly, dragging his tongue over his canines as he stared down into your eyes.

“Be a good mate and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

You whimpered weakly, trying your best to shake your head in his grip. He held you there for a moment, making you stare into his blood thirsty eyes, something in your gut told you he was hoping you’d fight back, keep disobeying so he would have an excuse to hurt you. You didn’t give him one.

It seemed to please him anyway as he let go of your chin with an amused chuckle, the tight hold pressing you against him immediately returning as he kept riding off into the woods, his pack of blood covered barbarians following after him.

If only you hadn’t given him that flower.

#monstermonth #fantasyau #bakugo x reader #reader insert #barbarian bakugo

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queenofspades6 · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Partners- The Mandalorian x reader

Tython

Chapter 13 of More than Partners

Summary: You and the Mandalorian go to Tython to find Grogu’s path, unfortunately, that doesn’t end well.

Warnings: Spoilers from The Mandalorian Episode 14 Season 2. Fluff and a bit angst. Mando is sweet

AN: This week has been very tough for me, I broke up with my boyfriend and my dog had a dangerous surgery. Rough week! The Mandalorian series has been a way for me to relax and try to look towards the future. What I am trying to do when I write I hope you’ll all enjoy this chapter! Next one will be very very very interesting... with a lot of drama... and maybe some smut? If you all want it. Enjoy!! And let me know in the comments how you found this chapter! If you could reblog please do it, Tumblr is being weird and hiding some of my posts.

———

<- Chapter 12 - Chapter 14 ->

———

“I need to tell you something, Mando.”

He tilted his helmet in wonder, waiting for your answer.

“I am not a Jedi anymore.”

“Alright.”The Mandalorian replied, nodding to you.

“Did you understand what I said, Mando?”

He acquiesced; his gaze focused on the Razor Crest’s dashboard.

“You are not a Jedi anymore, and?”

“Why aren’t you angry? Why aren’t you reacting?”You shouted, eyebrows raised in confusion, and your hands on your hips.

The Mandalorian stood up and approached you. He caressed your shoulder in a comforting gesture with his gloved hand.

“Because it doesn’t matter. Jedi, Mandalorian, Togruta, Twi’lek or Yodu species. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s Yoda.”You interrupted, still deeply anxious.

Seeing no relief on your face, Mando sighed.

“Y/N. I don’t care if you are a Jedi or not. I didn’t save you and the Child because of your abilities.”

“So why did you save me? Grogu is just a child, and I can understand why you saved him, but why did you save me too? Why did you spare me death? I was going to die in that warehouse. I didn’t know you, and yet you saved me, Din.”You whispered his name, staring at his helmet.

“There are things we can’t explain, Y/N. We can’t explain the Force, but it’s here. I knew I needed to save you; it was instinct. Jedi or not, I would have saved you.”

You tried to hide a tear threatening to flow on your cheeks, yet Mando noticed it. Slowly, he embraced you with his arms with an incredible carefulness, doing his best not to hurt you with the beskar.

“I know you are fighting with yourself these times, Y/N. It won’t be easy, but you’ll succeed, and you’ll always have a home here, with me. Even if we don’t have the Child anymore.”

You smiled and put your arms around the Mandalorian’s neck, caressing the fabric of his cape. To your great surprise, you felt skin at the beginning of his spine. Between his cape and his heavy helmet, you could sense his warm and tanned skin. You traced the skin with your fingers, making Mando shivered under your unexpected touch. You fondled the skin again, your eyes closed, focusing on that intimate contact between two tortured souls.

Mando didn’t move, his eyes were closed, trying to save your soft touch in his memory forever. Oh God, how much he wanted to kiss you right now.

“Din.”You murmured in his ear.

You heard his heavy breath, even if he had his helmet on. You smiled, took his hand and planted a chaste kiss on his fingers.

“Come on. We need to go to Tython.”

Still lost in your touch, Mando nodded. You could made him speechless so easily. With only a word. Only a touch. Only a moan.

***

And here it was. Tython. The Force was strong on this planet. Were you slowly getting back your powers? All you could see through the ship’s windows was rocks and rocks everywhere, and on the top of a mount, there was a circle, a smaller stone on the middle surrounded by huge and dominating rocks.

“Mando? How are we going to reach the circle?”You asked

The bounty hunter chuckled.

“There is a Way.”

Wide-eyed, a little smile appeared on the corner of your lips.

“Was it a joke, Mando?”

He didn’t reply, and you grinned.

***

You didn’t think when the Mandalorian had told you he had found a way to reach the circular ruins, he was going to take you and Grogu there with his jetpack. The whole time you screamed, hiding your face on Mando’s armor and your hands holding firmly his torso.

“Mando, you are crazy!”You shouted, fearing for your life.

You knew the Mandalorian was probably smirking behind his heavy helmet of his, making fun of you.

Slowly, the bounty hunter landed on the circular ruins, his hand still on your hip.

“Never again!”You screamed.

“We need to get back to the ship after you know?”

“You’ll be the death of me, Mandalorian.”

He chuckled and stared at the Child with an assured look.

“I guess, this is it.”He declared, Grogu cooing in his arms.

You took the Child in your arms, patting his little head in a comforting gesture and put him on the small stone surrounded by the immense rocks.

Mando was getting impatient, trying to look for something that could help the Child choose his path.

“There is a ship coming.”The Mandalorian suddenly said, his fists clenched.

“I know that ship.”You murmured, a confused look on your face.

Mando and you tried to reason the Child and make him go with you, though, Grogu was sitting like a rock, and when the Mandalorian tried to reach him, you screamed. He was thrown few meters away from the stones by the Force.

“Y/N, stay here with Grogu. I am going to protect both of you.”

“No! Mando, you can’t! Please! He is…”

It was too late. The Mandalorian was nowhere to be seen.

What did Boba Fett want?

“Oh shit.”You shouted.”The armor! Damn, I should have known!”

“Mando! Mando! Din, please come back!”

No reply.

“Grogu, come on! Please, answer me! We can’t let him die! Come on.”

Still nothing.

A ship crossed the sky. Again.

Why did everyone come to visit you? You hadn’t sent any invitations.

“Mando!”

“Time to go! We have company.”

“Are you alright?”You asked.

“Later. Y/N.

“Come on, kid. We need to go!”

The Mandalorian got repulsed back again. Grogu was in trance and he didn’t hear anything than the Force.

“Stormtroopers.”

Mando rushed to the kid’s side, but he was sent by a shock of energy.

“Mando, stop. We can’t wake him!”

“Okay. I am gonna protect you both. Y/N, stay here.”

“I won’t! Boba Fett and some stormtroopers are here. I won’t let you go alone.”

Seeing you standing on your position, Mando shrugged and let you accompany him. You both hiked towards the group of stormtroopers gathered around Boba Fett and to your greatest surprise, Fennec Shand.

Noticing your presence, she winked at you and did a military salute.

The Mandalorian took care of the stormtroopers with only a button on his wrist.

“Okay. Let’s move in.”Mando declared.

“Y/N. I didn’t think I would see you again.”

You were startled to hear Boba Fett’s voice after so long. He had grown so much.

“Me neither.”You replied, iniatiating your lightsaber and slicing two stormtroopers.

“It’s her, isn’t it? The one always with the Mandalorian?”Boba Fett declared, addressed to Fennec Shand.

She nodded, and you looked between them awkwardly.

Mando talked with Fennec while shooting more and more stormtroopers, and you felt a bit jealous. It was complicated with you and the Mandalorian. You weren’t a Jedi anymore, but he was still a Mandalorian.

With your lightsaber, you killed a few stormtroopers and, just at your side, you discovered Boba Fett with his armor on. It was a shock for you. You hadn’t seen him in his armor for years.

“Back to the ship! Go! Go!” A stormtrooper shouted, gesturing to the others to climb on the ship quickly.

In a quick motion, Boba took care of the two ships of stormtroopers in the sky.

“Nice shot.”Mando said.

“I was aiming at the other one.”

You laughed awkwardly, and Fennec Shand stared at you. You had the strange impression you were nothing compared to these people. You were always different, but today, it was as if you were a stranger in your own home.

An energy blast shot down from the sky, destroying on the same occasion the Razor Crest.

“No!”You vociferated.

The Mandalorian rushed forwards. You knew this ship meant everything to him. And it had become your home too. And it was suddenly gone with only an energy blast. Only a second to destroy everything you and Mando had built together with the Child.

“Mando.”

You put a hand on his shoulder, he took it in his hands and held it firmly, not caring about Fennec’staring gaze on both of you.

“The kid!”Mando screamed.

“Oh no! It was a diversion. They wanted the Child all along. No! No! No!”

You, the Mandalorian and Fennec ran towards the circular ruins. You ran as fast as you could, praying to arrive before the Darktroopers.

Just when you arrived, the Darktroopers were flying away with the Child in one trooper’s arms.

The bounty hunter and Fennec were talking, trying to find a way to save Grogu, but you couldn’t react. You felt your knees weaken, and you fell on the ground, tears flowing on your cheeks.

You had lost the Child and your home. Everything was gone in a day. Why couldn’t it be easy, you questioned yourself. Why is it always complicated when it comes to me?

You only heard “They’re back” before drifting to the darkness.

(Time skip brought by Hayden Christensen coming back for a Star Wars Series.)

“Y/N. Y/N. Wake up.”

“Hmm. Din. I had a nightmare. We had lost the Child and the Razor Crest and-“

“Y/N. It wasn’t a nightmare.”Mando replied, scratching his neck in guilt and embarrassment.

“No. No it can’t be true. We can’t- We-“

“Shh. Shhh. I am here, Y/N. We’re going to get him back, I promise.”He whispered in your ear in front of Fennec’s curious gaze.

“But… What are we going to do now? We don’t have a ship and Grogu is gone.”

“Hey. Look at me, Y/N.”

You looked up and found the Mandalorian’s visor directed at you.

“We are going to get back Grogu, fight Moff Gideon, and then, Grogu will choose his path and we’ll make a family.”He murmured, caressing your cheek with his gloved hand.

“I am a burden for you. You should let me stay here.”

“I won’t. If you stay, I stay. If you fall, I fall. Wherever you go, I go.”He declared, putting one of your locks of hair behind your ear.

“Are you sure?”You questioned, smiling a bit and letting a tear run on your face.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

You smiled.

“I can’t live without you, Mando.”You muttered, staring intensely at the ground.

“Me neither.”

The Mandalorian passed his hands around your neck in a loving embrace. It wasn’t to comfort you, but to reassure him. Even if he didn’t show his sadness, the only thing left he had was you. His ship, the only thing he loved for as long as he could remember was gone forever. The Child wasn’t here anymore. But you were here. You held Mando in your arms firmly, not daring to let go.

“Hmm. Lovebirds, I don’t want to disturb you, but the Child needs rescue and we need to find where they hold him.”Fennec Shand declared, clearing her throat.

“You are going with us?”You asked us, eyebrows raised in wonder.

“Yes. Boba is also going with us. We’re going to help you save the Child.”

You acquiesced.

“Come on. There is someone we need to see.”The bounty hunter commanded in an authoritative tone.

*****

“Cara Dune. Marshal of the New Republic. I heard rumors you were gone legit.”Mando exclaimed, a smile on his lips.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

She stared at both of you and grinned.

“What?”You asked.

“You two, huh? Things are official now, I see.”

You looked up, a discreet and shy smile adorning your face.

“I need your help.”The bounty hunter announced, hands on his hips.

“Name it.”

“We need you to locate someone in the prison registry. Ex-Imperial sharpshooter, last name Mayfeld.”

You let the Mandalorian talk with Cara while inspecting her little office.

“We lost the Child, Cara.”You proclaimed.

You looked at her in the eyes, and instantly, you knew, she was going to break every rule to help you and the Mandalorian free Grogu. No matter the cost.

———

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⬇️ Chapter 14 ⬇️

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undercoveravenger · 4 years ago

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Judgement Day

Pairing: Cato x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Hi! Can you write a super angsty story for a Cato x male reader? One where they both like one another but neither of them is making the first move. Cato is distant because he doesn’t know how to deal with these feelings and male reader takes this as Cato not liking him. Something happens that makes Cato super jealous and finally confesses to male reader.”

A/N: Y’all don’t understand HOW LONG I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me to write for Cato. Like, this man could choke me out with his biceps and I would probably thank him. Please ask me for more Hunger Games things when my requests open back up!

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Cato had always known that he was going to end up a tribute. He’d been raised to be a survivor and trained to be a winner. He’d fought and clawed his way through District Two’s Tribute Academy to earn the right to Volunteer when he turned eighteen uncontested, and he’d never once doubted his choice.

Never once, until he was on the train to the Capitol watching the videos of the other Districts’ Reapings and saw you for the first time. You hadn’t been from one of the Career Districts like Cato, but instead of looking weak or scared as you took your place on the stage the way many of the past tributes from most of the outlying districts always did, you merely looked resolute- acknowledging that you may not be coming back, but determined to go down fighting.

The resilient spark that he had seen in your eyes haunted him throughout the rest of the ride into the Capitol.

-------------------

Cato’s thoughts had been torn away from you when he was handed over to his stylists, but his attention had snapped right back to you when he saw you before the tribute parade. He’d known that he looked brutal in his golden armor and shining headdress, but somehow your stylists had made you look striking in a way that was both strong and beautiful and altogether different from him.

They’d taken the color palette of autumn trees (Lumber was the specialty for District Seven, so that made sense) and cut miniscule leaves out of the fabric, sewing and weaving them together in a way that made the long cape that flowed from your shoulders look like they’d been caught a breeze right from the forest and bound it to you. In a strange way, Cato could almost relate to that thought. The rest of your outfit was a dusky brown with thick ridges and swirls marked into the fabric to make it look like the rough bark of a tree, leaving you and your District partner looking like the very embodiments of autumn as you stepped up into the carriage pulled by a pair of bay horses, their coats shining a brilliant crimson as the bright lights hit them.

Cato had had to drag his eyes away from you when his and Clove’s chariot lurched into motion.

---------------------

When training had started, Cato had already begun to suspect that he felt something for you, though he thought it was merely an attraction. He was proven wrong when his heart lurched in his chest when one of the trainers had you trapped in a wrestling hold, wrenching your feet up off the ground and slamming you backward onto the hard training mat.

He knew in the back of his mind that you weren’t in any real danger yet (the trainers were there to help you all stand a chance in the arena, not kill you before the Games even started after all), but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t positively fuming at the fact that someone had dared to put their hands on you. He shoved his way past the couple of other tributes that’d been lined up at the wrestling station, holding your gaze as you pushed yourself back to your feet. He looked back to the trainer in front of him when you shook out of your daze and made your way to the back of the line.

Cato grinned as the trainer lowered into a fighting stance in front of him, quickly launching himself into the match. He managed to duck out of the way of the trainer’s grappling pretty easily, having gone through much more intense training back in his District anyway. He kept his distance when he could, keen azure eyes waiting for any opening- there.

He moved immediately upon realizing that the trainer was favoring his left leg, moving quickly to knock him off balance and then throwing him hard to the mat, pinning him face-down against the stiff plastic. Cato let a self-satisfied grin slip onto his face as he moved to get off of the trainer, the corners of his lips twitching up ever higher as he met your awed (e/c) eyes and suddenly he found himself hoping that the line between the two of you and the mat never moved again.

“That was incredible,” you told Cato as he came to stand behind you in the line and the blond had to fight back a smile at the fact that you were speaking to him for the first time.

“If you thought that was impressive, you should see what I can do with a sword.” He winced internally, knowing that while that sort of thing mattered where he was from, you probably wouldn’t find it nearly as awe-inspiring. You’d probably just be afraid of him.

You just chuckled and Cato’s hope was restored. “Well, no offense, but I’d just as soon not be on the other end of a blade from you.”

Cato laughed, a little relieved that you hadn’t taken his thoughtless remark as a threat. “That’s probably a good idea,” he grinned. “Really though, I’m not too bad. It’s Clove you’ve gotta watch out for,” he nodded toward his District partner, wincing when one of the throwing knives she was using struck the target with deadly precision.

“Thanks for the advice,” you muttered, eyes wide as you watched her throw again from across the room.

Cato opened his mouth, struggling to come up with something to say. “Uh, what about you?”

“What about me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at the blond.

He shrugged, looking away sheepishly and hoping you couldn’t see the ghost of a blush forming on his cheeks, “What’re you good at? Clove’s got her knives and I’ve got swords and spears. What’s your thing?”

Your brows furrowed as you looked away, clearly deep in thought. You brightened, grinning at him as you cocked your head toward the throwing station. Cato watched curiously as you picked up a throwing axe, tossing it idly between your hands. “It’s a little different the way we do it back in District Seven, but it’s a good way to have some fun once the work day is over.” He watched as you pulled back, the axe turning head over handle as you released it, the sharp end of the head sinking deep into the target with a loud thud, nearly as precisely as his District partner.

“Holy shit, that was cool,” he murmured, smug satisfaction settling in his chest as you flushed at the praise. “What else do they teach you out there in the woods?” he prodded, hoping you’d open up about yourself now that he’d gotten you talking.

You opened your mouth to speak, but cut yourself off as the bell to signal the end of the training day chimed. “Ask me tomorrow and find out.”

--------------------

Just as you’d asked, Cato met up with you as soon as you made your way down into the training room the next morning and you showed him many of the other things that growing up in District Seven had taught you. In exchange, he helped train you in a few different methods of hand-to-hand combat.

With all the time the two of you were spending together, it was no wonder that he’d grown quite fond of you, something that he’d struggled to hide, even during his televised interview.

Caesar Flickerman, dressed this year in a gaudy shade of blue, had shaken his hand warmly and guided him to sit in one of the chairs situated before the massive audience. A few minutes of meaningless banter passed before Caesar finally asked a question that threw Cato for a loop. “So,” he had started, wide blue eyes fixed on the blond and hands clasped in front of him, “Is there anyone that’ll be in the Arena that makes you nervous?”

Retrospectively, he knew that Caesar had been asking whether there was anyone he was worried about facing, but in that moment the only face that came to mind was yours. “(M/N),” he’d answered reflexively, scrambling to backtrack as soon as your name had left his lips. “The boy from District Seven, I mean. We’ve spent some time together during training. He’s good; he’ll put up a good fight in the Arena, no matter who he’s up against.”

Caesar had caught on to his hesitation and, in true interviewer fashion, had to probe further. “You’ve spent time together?”

Cato schooled his expression back into the nonchalance that his mentors had wanted him to show, forcing himself back to the effortless confidence he was meant to exude. “We talked. Sparred some. He showed me some things he knew and I showed him some that I did.” He forced himself to laugh, “Of course, I still have plenty of tricks up my sleeve, so it’ll still be a hell of a show.”

Caesar had laughed, making a few more jokes to the audience and shaking his hand again for the innumerable cameras before dismissing him.

----------------------

Cato forced himself to sit through the next few Districts’ interviews with relative indifference, but then it was your turn and Cato had to force himself not to visibly perk up, though his eyes remained fixed on you.

Caesar greeted you the same way he had the rest of the tributes and guided you back to the interviewee’s chair, setting into his wheel of questions easily. Cato had nearly tuned out your interview entirely when one question in particular caught his attention. “Is there anyone special waiting for you back home?” Caesar had asked, leaning forward like he was expecting some juicy gossip. “A handsome boy like you must have a girlfriend waiting for you, right?”

You’d flushed, the brilliant red of your embarrassed blush bright enough to even be seen on the huge screens the interview was being projected up on. “No, uh, no girlfriend.”

“Seriously?” Caesar had asked disbelievingly. “Surely, there must be a girl-”

“No,” You’d protested, raising your hands defensively, “I’m actually, um,” you’d turned your gaze to your lap so you could avoid his eyes, “I’m attracted to boys.”

Caesar let out a noise of understanding, sitting back in his chair and shooting the audience a knowing look. “If that’s the case, allow me to revise my question, is there anyone back home that you’re interested in?’

“Back home? No,” you shook your head, offering Caesar a polite smile. Cato could tell that Caesar had been about to push you for more details when the buzzer went off, signaling that they had run out of time to question you. The interviewer looked slightly off-put, but he had to abide by the rules so he shook your hand for the cameras and sent you off.

Something about your interview had left a bad taste in Cato’s mouth, so as soon as you’d retaken your place in line and your District partner had made her way up onto the stage Cato found himself storming down the line of tributes until he reached you, grabbing the front of your shirt and dragging you close enough that, though it looked like he was snarling an insult at you to anyone else, only you could hear him asking you to meet him on the roof that night. When you gave him a barely perceptible nod, he released you, shoving hard on your shoulders for show before making his way back to his place, a frustrated grimace on his face.

------------------------

The interviews ended late, but the Capitol was still in an uproar even later into the night when you finally made your way up into the rooftop garden where Cato had been waiting for you. He turned to face you as soon as the elevators slid open, azure eyes reflecting the lights of the city as you came to stand beside him, looking out over the city.

He was quiet for a long moment as he stared out over the horizon, but eventually forced himself to speak. “I don’t want to be here,” he said finally, chancing a look over at you. “I thought I did. I mean, I Volunteered and everything, but it just didn’t feel real until now.”

“What changed?” you asked.

Cato wasn’t really sure that he knew the answer until he thought back to the way he felt after your interview. The burning ache that your words had left in his chest had been jealousy and the way he hadn’t been able to take his mind off of you since he’d first seen the recording of your Reaping had been far more than just an attraction. Finally, like the sun peeking out of the clouds after a heavy rain, the answer dawned on him. “I did.” He bit out a laugh, “I met someone, and it made me realize how much the Games were going to take from me before I even realized what I was going to lose.”

“Clove is a lucky girl,” you mused, taking a seat near the railing around the edge of the roof. “Or is it that girl from Twelve? You might have to compete with that bakery boy for her, but you seem like you’d be more her type than him anyway…”

Cato turned to look at you curiously, “It’s not a girl.”

You seemed surprised, but you were quick to shrug it off. “Then maybe you’re after the bakery boy yourself, then? Or what’s-his-name from One?”

“Nope,” Cato hummed, grinning a little as he dropped down to sit next to you. He remained quiet for a moment, clearly entertained by the way you were seemingly running through the list of other tributes in your head. “Y’know,” he started after a moment, “It would be a lot easier for me to tell you that I have feelings for you if you were to stop guessing every other tribute.”

His words seemed to stop you in your tracks and he couldn’t stop the grin that threatened to take over his features as you stared back at him in surprise, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, like you’d been about to suggest another name. “M-me?” you forced out eventually.

Cato laughed, nodding. “Sorry, I made it weird, didn’t I?” He huffed, turning his attention back to the galaxy of lights spread out below you, “I just-” he shrugged, “I didn’t want to go into the Arena tomorrow without telling you how I felt. You don’t have to worry about saying no; it’s not going to make me target you or anything. I’ve already asked the rest of my alliance to leave you alone, so you don’t really have us to worry about.”

“What if I wasn’t going to tell you no?” Your voice was steady, even and contemplative, even though what you were talking about could give the both of you a major Achilles heel in the Arena in just a few hours.

Cato jerked around to face you, visibly stunned by your words. “What?!”

“What if I liked you back?” you prompted, turning to meet his gaze. “Would it change anything anyway? We’re from two different Districts; we’ve got a worse chance than the wanna-be lovers from Twelve.”

Cato sighed; he knew that you had a point. No matter how much you liked one another, you were still going to be thrown into the Arena and be expected to kill each other. “I don’t care,” he said finally, determined blue eyes meeting yours, “I don’t care if I only get a few days or a few hours. I just want to be with you, even if I only get a little while.”

You looked torn and Cato couldn’t blame you. On the one hand, being able to be with someone who liked you a lot would be great, but it would hurt more when one of you was killed in the Arena, but forcing yourself to stay away from the person that held your heart? Cato was sure the not-knowing would kill him.

After a moment, you nodded and Cato felt the weight in his chest that’d been dragging at him lighten, if only a little. You scooted closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and press a kiss to the top of your head before turning back to watch the lights of the city before you again.

Cato knew that there was no way he could promise you forever, not when you were about to get thrown headlong into a bloodbath, but he could promise you that he would be here to hold you in his arms until the sun began to rise and that, even as the canons sounded to start the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games, he would be praying for a miracle that would allow him to stay with you.

#male reader x cato #male!reader x cato #cato x male reader #cato x male!reader #cato x reader #reader x cato #reader x hunger games #male reader x hunger games #male!reader x hunger games #male reader x #male!reader x #male reader #male!reader #male reader insert #male!reader insert #hunger games reader insert

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eunoiaflow3r · 4 years ago

Text

when worlds collide - h.p. x gn!avenger!reader

a/n: bahahahahaha no one reads harry x reader lmaoo you don’t have to tell me - i know. but still, i thought this was a cute idea and i went with it. hope you enjoy :)

not edited.

also: timelines don’t match up bc i don’t want to do the math so harry is like 20 - 21 and your like 19 - 20 in 2020. Civil War and everything on didn’t happen. Fred didn’t die.

gn = gender neutral

warning(s): “language!” - captain america.

word count: 3.1k

request(ed): no.

summary: stephen sends y/n to a strange new place with...wizards?

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Never doubt Stephen Strange. That's something that pretty much everyone has accepted. Never second guess the wizard man. Usually you'd agree. Usually you'd just let the man babble about whatever he needed to and then go about your day.

Not now.

The fuckery.

Now you were here (wherever here was) after some flashes of orange and a "be careful." Did he even do the spell right? Is this really where you were supposed to be?

It was dark, and dirty and you just wanted to go home and not talk to anyone so you turned yourself invisible.

You were born with your powers - you think. You were adopted so you wouldn't know where your powers came from. All you know is that one day your parents couldn't find you, even though you were right there. Instead of thinking you were some kind of alien and throwing you out to labs, they helped you control it the best you could.

It was difficult at first, all things considered, but you got through. You discovered you had another power as well. Force fields. Those came in handy during the battles. (You helped where you could), and Tony Stark took you in afterwards as his own. He helped you create your suit, and your name, and discover more about your powers, he was basically a dad to you.

Your parents were a little hesitant letting you join the Avengers, but once they realized this is what you were meant to do, and you had people just like you protecting you, they couldn't keep you from that. They just couldn't.

So here you were, invisible, in some dark and creepy alley. There were doors either side of you, so you got out of the way considering they could open and smack you in the face at any given moment. You heard loud voices and laughing and cheering from both ends of the alley so you walked towards the one in front of you.

The voices were so loud and echoey that you really couldn't focus on anything else. Maybe that's why you didn't hear a boy behind you trip and fall into you from behind.

"I'm so sorry." he said helping you up.

You turned around to help him, he got awfully dirty, and searched for his glasses that fell off his face.

Once standing, he took out a stick, waved it over him, and all of a sudden the dirt and gravel was gone.

"How did you do that?" You were no stranger to magic, but this was something you've never seen before. And why would he do it in front of you? For all he knew, you were an unknowing human.

"What?" He asked eyebrows furrowed together, accent strong.

"With the stick."

He chuckled shoving the stick back in his cloak.

"The stick." He smiled and looked you up and down. "It's a wand. You must not be from around here."

"Yeah, what tipped you off?" You noticed the lightning bolt scar on his head. You wondered how he got it.

"The accent, the clothes, the inability to recognize a simple wand, the ability to be here, not recognizing me, and wait - where is your cloak?"

"Cloak?"

"You were just invisible a moment earlier but I don't see your cloak anywhere."

"I don't have one. I can make myself invisible without a piece of fabric or your fancy stick." You say sarcastically. Were you flirting?

"Handy." He grins. "The name's Harry Potter."

He holds his hand out for you to shake. "Y/N L/N."

He asks you if you want to talk somewhere besides a dark dirty alley. You agreed. It took some convincing though to let him use his stick to clean the clothes you had on, but to change your outfit to something less, standout-ish.

When you felt the witch hat on your head you immediately snatched it off your head and glared at him.

He just laughed.

Once out of the alley, you breathed in the now clean air, and was mesmerized. People were bustling in and out of small shops, animals were flying and chirping around their owners, children were running around with their friends and siblings, and people were waving sticks, or wands, just like Harry used.

"C'mon, this way." He smiled at your awestruck face. It reminded him of when he first arrived with Hagrid all those years ago.

He brought you inside a coffee shop, and sat you at a booth near the window knowing you'd probably want to still look outside at the new scenes.

After ordering, and a few moments of silence as you looked around, you decided to ask some questions.

"Where am I?"

"We're in Diagon Alley. It's like an outside mall."

"I mean like, planet? I guess?"

"Earth."

"Earth?"

"Well, more specifically London. Diagon Alley."

"London?! I'm in London?!"

"You've never been? To Earth? Or London?"

You rolled your eyes silently cursing Strange. "I'm from Earth. The United States, actually. I just wish he'd put me on a fucking plane or something instead of making it seem like I was going to Mars."

"He?" Harry was very curious.

You looked into his green eyes, your mind wandering. The guy in front of you was very attractive. His dark hair complimented his eyes, and his glasses made him even more attractive.

"You guys are wizards right?"

"Really? What gave you that impression?" He asks sarcastically. "The sticks, the pointy hats, or the big bowl with green liquid sitting outside?”

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny. It's not my fault you live into the stereotype of brewing potions in your cauldrons -"

"Oh well I can only assume you're one of those Avengers from the States, yeah?" He grins. "You guys are all over the news."

"Yes, sure -"

"And don't one of you wear capes and another shoot lasers or lightning or whatnot? Sounds very stereotypical to me."

You laugh as the waitress brings over your drinks and muffins. You thank her. "No, well yes, that's Strange and Thor, but that's besides the point -"

"Well of course it's strange." He grins and winks and you over his mug. He was purposely annoying you and found great joy in it.

"Anyway," you sigh getting back to the point. "Do you guys have a Wizard here, like a powerful, trusting, all-knowing kind of guy?"

His eyes dropped slowly and his smile dimmed for a moment before slowly widening once again.

"Had. His name was Dumbledore."

"Our guy is Stephen Strange. Or Dr. Strange. He sent me here, and I'm not sure why."

"Hmmm." He hums setting down his mug. "Are the states in danger? Were you sent here on a secret quest that would put you through tough trials that would risk your life but would ultimately save everyone you've ever loved so you just have to do it?"

You were in a silent shock. "Uhm. No, not that I'm aware of, no."

"Well then perhaps your Wizard Strange is playing matchmaker."

"Matchmaker?"

"Well you were sent here weren't you?" You nod. "Arrived outside the exact place where I was and I just happened to bump into you? Sounds like a set-up to me."

"Or a coincidence."

"I'd like to think it was fate that I bump into the most attractive person I've ever seen and they don't know who I am and won't judge me 'cause of my past." He took a bite of his muffin.

"Should I be worried?"

"I guess you'll have to figure that out yourself." He winks.

You decide to eat your muffin as well. It was a comfortable silence until you looked out of the window and noticed a guy crouching down behind a cauldron...with a camera.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Why is there a man outside taking pictures of you?"

His eyes widened. "Oh shit." He whispered. "Here." He took out a baseball cap and put it over your head, hiding your face from the camera.

He gets out of his seat quickly pulling you along with him to the back of the shop but before you could say anything he had his wand pulled out.

Next thing you saw was a couch and living room.

"Wow." You panted. "What a way to bring a girl home."

"I apologise Y/N, I block them out so much I forget they're even there and now they've seen you, and have a story and -"

"Wait, wait, wait, are you wanted for murder or something?"

Harry walks over to his bookshelf and pulls out a rather large book. After opening up on the table, he waved his wand over it and beckons you over to read it.

'Boy who lived.'

'Golden boy defeats Voldemort'

'winner of Triwizard tournament'

And there was so much more… 'Harry Potter' in bold just strewn across the pages. His whole life story.

Your eyes widen at everything. "So both and neither. War hero. How come I've never heard of you? Or any of this?"

He smiles at the pages fondly, running his fingers across the letters and reminiscing on his times at Hogwarts.

"Unlike you Avengers, we like to keep our business private and quiet. We don't like prying eyes."

You scoff. "Not our fault we have alien invasions every year."

Harry agreed and for the rest of the night you sat on his couch talking and sometimes arguing, over every little thing. It felt like you two had known each other forever.

You're not sure when, but you fell asleep there and woke with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around your waist. You're not sure how the two of you ended up this way, and you realized you were practically strangers, but you didn't want to move. You just wanted to tangle your fingers through his dark hair.

But you didn't. Instead you stared at his closed eyes, and focused on his long, dark, eyelashes that fluttered a little from time to time. You thought about how you could get used to this. Waking up with his arm wrapped around you.

You told him last night that if he was actually a serial killer, and wanted to kill you that you had a whole team of people who would rip him limb from limb. He had no doubts and looked actually scared of your threat.

You thought about what it'd be like to live here among people like you.

Stomach grumbling, you decided to get up and see if he had anything you could make for him. It's the least you could do. His face turned when you left his arms, but you quickly pulled the blanket over him so he would be able to sleep a little longer.

You found his bathroom, and washed your face. In your backpack was a toothbrush and some toothpaste so you brushed your teeth, fixed your hair, and got dressed.

By the time you got out of the bathroom, you noticed Harry was still sleeping so you went into the kitchen and tried to find anything remotely close to breakfast foods. By the look of his inventory, you could tell he was very good at cooking but hadn’t been to the store in a while. He did have some eggs and toast though so you decided to make that.

In the middle of it, you got a phone call from Strange.

“Strange?”

“Harry Potter.” he says.

“What?” you were so confused as to how Stephen knew ANYTHING.

“You’re in his place, we've been tracking you.”

“So I guess we should probably have a talk about privacy? I don’t know, it just seems like something we should discuss you know? Cause usually people can respect that - especially people who just DUMP you here in the first place -“

“Calm down that’s what the mission was. While you were sleeping, we searched the place with a camera we put on you and he’s not who we thought he was. You completed the mission L/N. Great job.”

“Is he a danger?”

“Not necessarily. Just making sure your fine is all.”

“What -?”

He hung up.

Why wouldn’t Strange tell you his intentions? Why would he let you stay here if he thought Harry might have been a bad guy? Why would he risk that?

Right as you hung up Harry Potter walked into the kitchen with his lenses in between his shirt - he was cleaning his glasses.

His dark hair hung over his eyes but his eyebrows were raised.

“You made breakfast?”

“It was the least I could do. I didn’t mean to fall asleep but thank you for letting me stay.”

He smiled and put his glasses back on. In doing so his gray shirt lifted and you could see his abs. You turned away a blushed.

“It was no big deal. Thank you for making breakfast, love. You didn’t have to.”

You didn’t say anything and instead placed both of your finished plates on the dining room table. He followed you and sat down immediately digging in.

“These are the best eggs i’ve ever eaten Y/N thank you.”

You smiled in response but then frowned remembering your conversation with Strange. You should probably tell Harry.

“So,” you cleared your throat. “You were wrong.”

He gave you a look that meant “about?”

“Dr. Strange - the wizard I work with - he likes to check out potential threats and make sure that ya’know - the earth stays safe and everything. Je can kind of see the future and its propabilities. He did the same thing with Thor and his brother Loki.”

“Okay, go on.”

You cringed. “And so he called me and told me that he sent me here so he could see you? I don’t know I guess he saw you as a threat and wanted to make sure you weren’t.”

You looked at Harry but his face was clear of any and every emotion. He just continued to eat his eggs. It was silent.

You ate a bit at your eggs too until he spoke up which made you look up.

“I can’t say I’m very surprised honestly. With everything you guys manage to fuck up there I’d wanna know if someone else was about to create shit problems too.”

You sighed with relief. He wasn’t mad.

“I’m sorry really Harry, I didn’t even know.”

“No yeah it’s fine. I get it. I still think he sent you specifically for a reason though. There’s just no way we aren’t soul mates or something.”

“Oh shut up Potter.”

He smiled. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Gee your head must hurt.”

He squints at you jokingly. “You should let me take you out. I can show you around today. Y’know, so you can see what wizards are like.”

“Is this a date?”

His face flushes red and he looks down at his plate. “Yeah, yeah it’s a date.”

And a date it was.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Harry! Again?!” You practically screamed. Harry called it aparation but you call it hell. You let it go the first time but damn. He barely even warned you, just took your hand, held it tight, pulled you close, and waved his wand.

It was teleportation. Something you’ve never ever done before.

“Fucking hell Potter I’m going to murder you.”

“And Strange was worried about your safety? This is like your 4th time threatening to end my life and besides, it wasn’t even that bad.”

You rolled your eyes.

Throughout the day Harry showed you all sorts of things you’d never ever seen before. This consisted of every flavor jelly beans (and by every flavor they really meant every flavor), a chocolate frog, and never ending bubble gum. And that was just on the candy side.

He took you inside this joke shop ran by two of his friends from his old school he called hogwarts. They were twins that went by the names of Fred and George. The only twins you had ever met was Wanda and Pietro but telling the story of Pietro’s death seemed to sour Harry’s mood but excite the twins. The fact that he sacrificed himself for a little boy made him a hero in their eyes. They begged you to tell them more stories.

By the end of the day you went back to Harry’s place and you were exhausted. You can’t believe all that you’ve seen and eaten. How was this stuff even possible? How was it all hidden? You were amazed.

Harry was glad to see you had a good day and glad that he had met you. When you got back, he told you that you could stay another night...and perhaps in the bed instead of the couch. He hadn’t meant it in a dirty way but that didn’t stop you from laughing until tears came out of your eyes. He was so awkward at times. Once he had to ask if it was okay to take your hand while you were in the street and it was so cute how he couldn’t really find the words even for something as simple as hand holding.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

You both were laying in his bed facing the other.

“I had a lot of fun today. I feel like i’ve known you forever.”

He grinned from ear to ear and was glad that you couldn’t see him. He would have been beyond embarrassed if you’d seen how unmistakably happy that made him.

“I had fun with you Y/N. You’re great company.”

You were silent for a moment.

And another.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You were scared of his response and your heart was practically beating out of your chest. What if he was just being friendly? What if he just wanted to be friends? You would have made a huge fool of yourself. You were going to turn away embarrassed until his hand came up to your face and slipped onto your cheek. He was so warm. His lips pressed against yours for a moment and then he pulled away.

After a moment he reconnected and moved his lips against yours slowly. Your hand went to the back of his neck and toyed with his hair. He groaned into your mouth. You smiled and scooted even closer to him. All you could hear was the sound of your breathing and kissing. You didn’t want to pull away but you had to.

“Harry.” you said practically breathless.

“Yeah.” he was breathless too.

“I want to show you my world. You should come see New York.”

“Yeah? You wanna show me those alien invasions and robot attacks?”

You laughed and snuggled into Harry. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your neck.

“Mhmm.”

“I’d love to see it.”

Tags:

@romance-geek @gooseyhouse

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gotnofucks · 4 years ago

Text

Congruence

Written for @holylulusworld 10k follows challenge!

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader, Loki x Reader

Trope: Love Triangle

Summary: Stephen and Loki want you. You are confused. Wong is an angsty person.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: None? Strong language, I think. Fluff and bad English (not my first language)

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this so please bear with me. Also, I’m a sucker for happy endings so…yeah.

MASTERLIST

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Wong was losing his fucking mind. He was one more broken vase away from cursing in Vedic Sanskrit and spent every hour cursing Thor for sending his miscreant brother to live at the New York Sanctum. He could have gone to Hong Kong, or maybe London where he would have fit right in with that English accent. But no! He had to send him here in New York with Wong and Stephen and you.

You had been living at the sanctum for only two months when Thor literally dropped Loki here. Wong and Stephen had been sitting in the living room when the ceiling cracked open and someone fell from the sky with a resounding THUD. Loki had looked up from the floor with utter contempt in his face at his brother who landed solidly on his feet.

“Hey there, doctor!” Thor bellowed, patting Stephen roughly on the shoulder and gave Wong a bear hug.

The sorcerers had stared at the two Asgardians with absolute shock on their faces until Wong exploded.

“Can you please for fucks sake use the door like a normal person!? Every time you are here you break something! The ceiling for god’s sake! Do you have any idea how much time and effort it takes to repair that?”

Thor looked at the ceiling with no remorse while his brother dusted himself off.

“Can’t you just, you know, reverse time with the stone and fix it?” Thor asked, taking a seat without being offered one.

“What are you doing here? And why, if I may ask, is your brother here?” Stephen asked rolling his eyes. Thor made the occasional stop at the Sanctum from time to time just for the fun of it. Banner bet him 10 bucks it has a lot to do with Wong being recently single, Stephen disagrees and says its because their kitchen is always stocked with Pop Tarts.

“Ah, you can keep my brother” Thor said nonchalantly, stretching his legs out and being comfy in his chair.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are, trying to treat me like an object?” Loki spat.

Before Thor could retort, Stephen banged his hand on the table. “I have no plans to keep your brother, Odinson. Pray, take him and leave. And while you’re at it, put some money on the table for the ceiling. We may have magic, but we don’t use it to put splintered wood back together.”

“You must keep him doctor, for the good of the nine realms.” Thor said, raising his hands slightly in resignation.

“Have you started another war already?” Wong asked curiously, eyeing the God of Mischief who looked about ready to stab his brother.

“He hasn’t, yet. But I’m leaving Midgard for some time and Valkyrie doesn’t want him around. They will end up killing each other by the end of the week. He’s got magic, you can make use of him here. Hell, make him fix that ceiling.” Thor said.

Loki was seething at having been treated like a naughty child while the adults talked around him. They hadn’t let him utter a word in his defense and he doubted it would matter if they did hear him out. Whatever, he didn’t want to stay with Valkyrie either. Before Thor dragged him here, he’d switched all her alcohol with fruit juice. She would be spitting fire for days and he was safer here. And so, it was decided that Loki would stay at the sanctum until Thor returned. What he would do here remains to be seen. Stephen wasn’t pleased with the situation, but he’d rather Loki stay here than cause some other world ending event that would drag him and other Avengers out to clean up his mess later.

You were in the library when this weird turn of events was happening, so you hadn’t had the chance to meet Loki yet. You were a new recruit at the sanctum, chosen personally by Wong who felt they needed more than just two sorcerers to protect this place. Until then you were under training with both of them and were still getting your feel of this space. You had so far met no one other than your two mentors so you were rightfully surprised to stumble on man wearing green cape and eating your cereal in the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously while he did the same, chewing slowly.

“Y/n meet Loki. He’ll be staying with us for some time”, Wong said as ways of introduction. Wong adored you since he saw you in Kamartaj and had you brought here as soon as your preliminary training there was over. You were still very young, only in your 20s, so you brought with yourself a light and life that had previously been lacking in this sacred place. Ever since you came here, the sanctum had flower vases in almost every room and soft music could be heard at odd times. You didn’t take long to adjust to your life in New York and often forced both Stephen and Wong to eat something other than take out. You laughed and smiled and brought with yourself a woman’s touch to this dreary place. Wong wasn’t the only one affected. Stephen, who had initially been very against the idea of another sorcerer in the sanctum warmed up to you quick enough. So warm in fact that Wong could almost call it affection.

“Hi Loki, does your cape float too?” You asked and sat across him, pouring some cereal and milk into your bowl. Loki stopped eating and bent his head a little to the side, curious.

“It doesn’t.” He said at last.

“That sucks, I love flying cloaks. Stephen’s cloak – I call it Levi – loves to take me on rides. If your cape were a sentient too, maybe they could have been friends. Everyone should have friends, even clothes.”

Loki was looking at you with a small, amused smile.

“I can enchant it for a few hours; however, it won’t remain animated forever.” Loki said. He didn’t like talking to strangers, but you were so sweet, so unafraid of him that it pleased him. You had no awkwardness when you spoke, and no note of hatred in your voice, something that didn’t happen often in his conversations with people.

Your eyes brightened and you launched into a discussion about animation enchantments, something that the masters at Kamartaj had steered clear off. They were very adamant about how to use magic, and walking furniture was somewhere they drew the line. Loki’s magic was very different to yours and it fascinated you. This was how Stephen found you, deep in conversation with an amused Loki who looked at you softly. He scowled.

“What’s happening here?”, he asked, coming to stand behind you.

“Did you know it’s possible to morph your body in someone else’s completely? Solid illusions!”, you prattled on.

“Of course, I know, I just don’t use it.” Stephen said and took the seat beside you.

“You never said! You’ll teach me?” Your eyes were bright as you asked this, and it was with great restraint Stephen shook his head and said no. He found it difficult denying you anything and if he ever admitted it to himself, he would say he’s fond of you. Very fond.

Your face fell at his denial.

“You won’t teach me? Why?”

“Some magic is too advanced for you right now. We’ll build it up and maybe someday I’ll teach you, although I’m not fond of it. Some magic is just…silly.”

Loki was looking at your exchange with a small smirk and as you lowered your face in dejection, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and looked straight at you.

“I can teach you.” He said and watched your eyebrows raise before a small smile formed on them. You looked happy until you remembered your mentor sitting beside you and looked at him with a forlorn expression. Stephen’s hands clenched and he resisted the urge to mash Loki’s face in his cereal.

“Like hell you would! I’m her instructor and the only thing you’re doing is staying out of trouble.” Stephen said, one hand leaning over the back of your chair, a gesture not lost on Loki.

“Didn’t Thor say I could be of help here? Well, this is it. I could help teach Y/n and we can compare notes on our magic. Wouldn’t you like that, Y/n?” Loki asked you in a sweet voice and you nodded eagerly, eyes pleading with Stephen to agree. You looked so earnest, so willing to learn, that Stephen couldn’t find it in himself to say no. He wanted to, he wanted to shout that he will teach you all you needed to know and more, that he is someone you can rely on. But he simply said yes.

Throughout this whole conversation, Wong, who was busy cooking hadn’t said a thing but if the stiffness in his shoulders was to go by, he was not a happy man. He knew some shit was about to go down, and lord did he not want to be a part of it.

From that day, what happened in the Sanctum was something Wong could only call an over glorified dick-measuring contest between Stephen and Loki. They did all but whip their tools out and boink each other on the head with it.

It started from little things like teaching you something new and praising you about it. You loved to have your work being acknowledged and would blush a deep red at being praised. Loki had fumed for hours watching you and Stephen work and you giggling with a red face as Stephen told you what a good job you had done. In retaliation, Loki started teaching you enchantments and when you got them right, he would pat your hand and tell you that you were a good girl. That blush, and the glare he received from Stephen was a treat.

It didn’t stop with academics. The men started vying for your attention in the kitchen, each trying their hardest to win you over with more and more complicated dishes. Wong put his foot down when Loki made a Nutella sandwich that was a foot high and dripped with toasted marshmallows that took hours to scrub off. Stephen had laughed outrageously when Wong scolded Loki, telling him to clean up his mess and if he ever did something like this again, he’ll be using his toothbrush to clean the sanctum. Stephen stopped laughing however when Wong turned to him with a spatula in his hand. “And you! You’re banned from cooking too. I can’t go shopping every day to get you ingredients because you want to make Y/n pastries and pies and stupid Turkish delights three times a day. Out of my kitchen! Now!”

The antics continued, more often than naught resulting in skirmishes between the two men which in turn resulted in a lot of broken vases, furniture, and in some rare events, bones. They fought over who you spent more time with, smiled wider at, and laughed harder at. It drove Wong crazy, an unfortunate bystander to the playground tricks of two boys fighting over a toy. But you were more than a toy, that he could tell.

You weren’t oblivious to what was happening. You were young, not naïve and so you spent your days very amused. You didn’t mind this attention, far from it in fact. Two very handsome and powerful men, for reasons best known to them, were trying their best to impress you. It made you giddy and feel wanted, but also confused because while you weren’t in love with either of them, you didn’t think you’d be able to choose one when the time came for it. Surely, they can’t keep doing this forever and will one day give you the ultimatum to make a choice. You dreaded that day because with each passing day, with each sweet gesture and praise, with each hug lasting a little longer and each eye contact being a little hotter, you were reminded that with choosing one you would lose the other. That didn’t seem like the happy ending you wanted.

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Loki was at his wit’s end and knee deep in books and ancient relics. He had scrounged every storeroom and tome trying to find what he wanted to no avail. His hair was disheveled from running his hands through it too many times and he wished you would braid it like you’d done a couple nights ago. What had begun simply as an amusing prank to show up Stephen Strange ended up being a true gamble in the game of love. He didn’t really expect to start liking you like this. Sure, you were different, and he acknowledged that fact within minutes of meeting you. But he didn’t know that he would seriously start considering his intentions towards you. At most he had hoped he would find a friend in you, but he didn’t just want to be a friend anymore. He wanted you with your tinkling laugh and ability to cast spells far above your level. He wanted to see you defend him against Thor and to tell you stories of Asgard as you took a walk through New Asgard by his side. He wanted you so bad and he’d be damned if that red cloak wearing second rate wizard took you from him.

“What in the world are you doing?” Wong asked as he entered Loki’s room to find it strewn with books and odd ornaments. Loki was sitting on the floor looking quite frustrated, and well, a little pathetic.

“I can’t find it. I’ve searched almost every book and every relic you have here. I can’t find it!” Loki moaned. Wong didn’t know what he was looking for, but he felt a small spark of pity for the god.

“What are you looking for?”

“Aladdin’s lamp”

There was a pregnant pause in the room.

“Excuse me?”

“Aladdin’s lamp. Y/n was talking about how Strange’s cloak – Levi as she calls it – would have loved having the flying carpet as his friend. And I asked her about this carpet, and she told me it belonged to the Genie who came out of Aladdin’s lamp when rubbed. I want that lamp so I can ask this Genie fellow to loan me his carpet”

It was a tough battle between laughing and patting the god on his head like a small child. Wong fought the impulse to do either and sat down on a chair after depositing the books on it on the table. “You won’t find it here”, he told Loki whose head shot up at this.

“Why not? Is it at some other sanctum? London?”

“It’s…nowhere.”, Wong said and raised a hand to stop Loki from interrupting. “Aladdin is a fictional story, so is the lamp and the genie and the carpet. Y/n loves reading about them and watching the movie adaptations. She likes to see how morals have interpreted magic.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open and for a moment he looked about ready to cry for having wasted so many hours searching for something that didn’t exist. Then, he miraculously started laughing.

“Norns! This woman drives me up a wall! She mentions one thing and I just want to do that for her. I’m not even mad at her or myself, just disappointed that I’ll have to search for something else to get her now. What the hell happened to me?”

Wong looked at a man who was very nearly, if not already in love with you. He didn’t like Loki very much, but he didn’t want this man to go through a heart break either. He would have to talk to you, soon.

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Stephen fancied himself a step ahead of Loki because he had known you a little bit longer, but if he was being honest, there wasn’t much to go by. His insecurities had a lot to do with that, for he believed you would prefer Loki, a handsome man over a scarred man like him. But you had never mentioned anything about his slightly trembling hands. You had taken to his life without a hitch and so seamlessly blended into a routine with him, Stephen felt like you had always been a part of his life. He couldn’t remember when you’d started helping him tie his robes, or necktie when the occasion called for it. He couldn’t remember when he’d started eating home cooked meals instead of takeout at the deli Wong preferred. One day he was living without you, and the other you had taken over every aspect of his life and made it ten times as beautiful. He didn’t know if he could go back to living life as he did before you, and he’d be damned if some green-bean god tried to take you away from him.

“I am going to regret asking this but what are you trying to do?”, Wong asked Stephen who was standing in the middle of his meditation room holding his cloak. Well, holding might not be the correct term. Dancing…with his cloak.

“I am teaching Levi how to waltz”, Stephen said and continued to guide the piece of fabric through the leg movements. Wong watched this with morbid fascination before sputtering incredulously.

“Why?”

“Y/n loves to waltz and as I don’t always have enough time to indulge her, I’m teaching my cloak how to do it so it can keep her company. You’ll do that won’t you, Levi?”

To Wong’s utter astonishment the cloak seemed to nod and was almost elegant in his movements. For a good few minutes Wong watched this scene before sighing. Smitten, both of them. Absolutely wrapped around your finger and most definitely on their way to fall in love. Stephen was his best friend and he looked so happy since you got here, it warmed Wong’s heart to finally see Stephen smile and be genuinely happy.

He really really needed to talk to you and ask you whom you planned to be with, if any of them at all. This is exactly the sort of drama Wong hated and he was sure no matter what you said, someone was going to get their heart broken.

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You were going to do it. You were going to do it today and tell them your decision because you couldn’t take it anymore. The hostility between Loki and Stephen was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t spend a minute in one’s company before being interrupted by the other. In the end, you just left them both, hence losing the joy of both their presence. And poor Wong. You could see him trying to summon courage for what you knew was going to be a very uncomfortable talk. The past few months Loki had lived here had been the best and worst months of your life. But now that things were starting to affect not just your friendship but also your academics (because both your instructors ended up attacking each other and spent two days in the sick bay), you needed to make a choice. So, you did what you did best and got to baking.

“It smells like Valhalla here, Y/n”, Loki said as he watched you work.

“Why won’t you let us see what you’re making?” Stephen asked, trying to look around you but you glared at him and he sat down again.

“Will you both for god’s sake ask the important question? Why the hell are we wearing these outfits?” Wong grumbled.

You looked at the three men seated around the table in Harry Potter robes, each holding a handmade wand and pointy hat you’d forced them to wear. They had protested and whined (I’m not a witch for Norn’s sake!) but had given in easier than you thought. You really did have them wrapped around your little finger.

“Could you wait for like two minutes? This needs to be perfect!” You chirped and got back to your tray.

“I’m too old to be doing cosplay”, Wong said with a huff.

“Shut up”

It took you another ten minutes to perfect your stuff, a tray lined with identical muffins with Hogwarts logo and the sorting hat on top. Picking it up you sat it down on the table before the three men and then sat down yourself.

“These are the sorting muffins but with a twist”, you declared. Loki looked on with interest. He’d watched and read all the Harry Potter books and movies at your behest.

“I hate this, and I hate twists. The last time I saw a twist was when this one-”, Wong pointed at Stephen “-annoyed a cosmic being into accepting defeat. I still get nightmares about that”

“Oh, don’t be so dull Wong. These are compatibility muffins. We don’t need sorting, we’re already sorted. You are obviously a Ravenclaw because you’re the librarian, Stephen is of course Gryffindor because Levi is red, similarly Loki is Slytherin because that cape is definitely a Slytherin green. And I am a Hufflepuff because I am the best.” Your speech did not have the jubilant response you expected, and you crossed your arm with a deep disappointed sigh. Stereotypical as your sorting had been you expected something more than blank faces.

“So, what are these muffins for?”, Stephen asked.

“We all take one and see what color filling we find. The person whose house we get, that’s the person we’re most compatible with.” Now you had your expected response. Both Loki and Stephen sat at attention eyeing the muffins critically, trying their hardest to guess which one had the yellow icing in the middle. Beside them Wong groaned and facepalmed. Of all the ways for you to choose a partner, trust you to play a game of luck involving a children’s fantasy book. He was regretting putting that talk off now.

“So, if I get blue…” Loki trailed off

“Yeah, you and Wong can go make out in the corner” You answered. “But of course, Wong must get green too you know, or you’d have to find another Ravenclaw. Consent is important after all”

It was the dumbest shit you had ever come up with. You knew it, everyone else knew it. But if this was how it was supposed to go so be it. Everyone ignored Wong’s complain of ruining a good desert and set out to choose their most perfect muffin. They were all identical to the last crumb, and it took an annoyingly large amount of time for both your suitors to choose their pieces. After they had deliberated and finally chosen their muffins, you casually selected one and motioned for Wong to do the same.

Finally, with muffins in all your hands and eyes full of anticipation and trepidation, you all took a bite.

Stephen’s face broke out in a grin as he showed off his bitten muffin with a yellow center. That smile however turned into a frown as Loki showed a yellow centered muffin too. Wong, feeling utterly stupid showed his red centered muffin and then all eyes turned to you. With a straight face you turned your muffin and-

“Motherfucker!”, Wong cried and with his head in his hands began laughing and crying simultaneously. Loki and Stephen looked stunned, staring open mouthed at the two-colored center of your muffin. Red and green.

“What?” They both said.

“I can’t choose. I just can’t. That’s not who I am.” You said and looked them both straight in the eye, hoping they’ll see reason in what you’re saying. “How do you choose between two people who love so much? You can’t quantify that feeling, you can never tell if its greater for someone or not. Call me a coward or a bitch, I don’t care. This is the truth. I love you Stephen. I love all your music references and stupid movies you make me watch. And I love you Loki, with that English accent and your horrible cooking. I love you both and I am here if you’ll have me. This is what I can offer you, because I sure as hell can’t break either of yours heart.”

You didn’t know what was going to happen. You hadn’t exactly meant to drop the L-word, but well, it was true. You couldn’t break their hearts, so you put the ball in their court and allowed them to break yours instead. It was much better than going through with the pain of choosing one of them, especially when your heart beats simultaneously for two. You braced yourself for rejection, because sharing a person you love is never easy. But if you have to share it with a person you hate, well, its almost impossible.

Loki and Stephen looked at you and then at each other. They seemed to be having some sort of wordless conversation and the longer they remained silent, the more you felt like you’d made a mistake and lost them both. Finally, they nodded at each other and then looked at you.

“I hate this second-rate wizard”

“I hate you too, green puny god”

“But we love you more.”

You blinked once and then again. It took a minute to register what they said but then you were flying and the next second you were in their arms, one man at your front while the other at your back. Sobs whacked your small body as the tension of past few months left you in your lovers’ embrace and you could finally breath easy. You pulled away and looked up with a tear stained face at Loki and Stephen, a watery smile that they reciprocated.

“So, we can finally have sex now after months of violent foreplay”, you remarked making them both laugh and pull you in their arms again. This was it. This was your safe space, your heaven.

Wong was forgotten as the three embraced and he was as baffled as he had ever been. Only you could have pulled off something so crazy. He was so glad he almost joined the group hug himself. No more broken furniture, no more shouting and no more messy kitchens. Life could go back to normal. As soon as he said that thunder rumbled outside and the ceiling cracked, depositing Thor in front of them wearing his armor and red cape.

“What’s happening here?” He boomed, looking around as if he hasn’t just vandalized their home again.

“You’re such a Gryffindor!” You cried, still delirious with joy and hugged Thor who had till now never met you. “I need to shave my whole body!” And saying this you ran away leaving the men staring at your back.

“Who’s that? And what’s a Gryffindor?” Thor asked, sitting at the kitchen table, and stretching his legs. He spotted the muffins and picked one up, taking a huge chunk out. It was blue from within. Both Loki and Stephen turned to look at a red-faced Wong who was cursing in Sanskrit.

“Looks like Banner was right. I owe him 10 bucks”, Stephen laughed.

#lulu's 10k follower challenge #stephen strange x reader #loki x reader #stephen x reader #dr strange x reader #love triangle #loki x you #stephen strange x you #stephen x reader x loki

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 4 years ago

Text

Desperate situations call for desperate measures. #Writer Wednesday 21/04/21

Pairing: Dave York x F!reader

Summary: You're desperate, with nothing to lose you accept helping one of your friends in what looks to be a very dubious job and the man in charge intimidates you and owns every single one of your thoughts since you met him

Warnings: I mean is Murder daddy Dave 🤷‍♀️. Blood, violence, guns, swearing, descriptions of anxiety and panic and sexual innuendo. Nothing too graphic but let me know if I should note anything else, thanks

A/N: I blame my national public TV channel for broadcasting The Equalizer 2 a few weeks ago, now I have THOTS and reading many amazing Fanfics on this site it's making it worse. Another Pedro's character I'm fascinated by (and would gladly be railed by). This is my second piece for #Writer Wednesday thank you for this again @autumnleaves1991-blog 🤗 I’m super excited to read what everybody has prepared for this week. No beta’d, sorry for any misspelling and terrible grammar.

Everything that could go wrong went wrong.

Suddenly you’re walking with a pair of stupid high heels in a cold muddy path, there’s nothing but a few street lamps but this white fog surrounds the night like a thick cape blocking their light so you can see nothing, even the moon is invisible and above you there’s an only a dark immensity without stars.

Fuck, fuck, fuck you repeat trembling, this stupid silky dress and the thin shawl you wear doesn’t protect you for this freezing night. Stupid fucking dress, stupid fucking heels you mutter, your teeth chatter and you try to focus on the road and finding anything that could get you out of here without getting yourself killed. Your shoes appear to have heard your complaints when they snap and break and you almost fall down.

“FUCK!” you scream this time and instantly regretting it, you don’t know who could be listening. Now you can walk faster but the probability to lose one or a few of your toes is getting higher every minute that you expend walking barefoot through this dreadful place.

As an apparition, a miracle, you see a dim white light at the end of the road. You run, you could even smile if your face muscles were not frozen. You feel your tears forming warm trickles on your cheeks when you arrive to the phone booth. You haven’t use one in years, even thought they were extinct but now it is as if you had found God.

You open your small red velvet purse, so pathetically small that your phone couldn’t fit in it so you gave it to Tom, and now what? It’s inside his pocket, probably soaked in his blood. Soaked in blood of your dead friend. You stupid friend that got you into this situation on the first place.

“Whatever happens, if everything goes to shit, call this number” he had told you giving you a white card, a number and a name on it: Dave.

Your hands shake so much that you almost drop the card, but you place it on the small tray full of vulgar vocabulary and very graphic drawings inside the booth. You thank karma or whatever it’s up there that all your cards got cancelled last month and recently you relay on cash. A few quarters and cents, a few bills that you had stolen on your way to the club where you were supposed to do the jobwere all you had on your name now. And the rest, what you had saved, your clothes and the few luxuries you own; a book, an old picture and a plant, are gone, forever, they’re at Tom’s house and you know now that he’s dead and has botched the job you could never return to his home if you want to keep being alive. You stretch your fingers and take a deep breath before dropping the coins and dialing the number.

Please pick up, please pick up

You see the counter on the small screen eating your coins away. And you don’t have anything else

Please, please

“York”

his voice is deep, a slight tone of annoyance in it, logically because you’re calling at 2 AM

“Dave?”

“Yes, who’s this?” you shudder hearing him, you convince yourself it’s because you’re cold but you know it’s not. You’re thinking of the man that owns this velvety voice: brown dark eyes piercing you as if you were made of paper and he could read every little corner and secret that you keep

“I’m Tom’s friend, he’s dead, and now I’m on the middle of nowhere and I need help, please” you plea, your last words sound more like a little girl whimpers

“I’m on my way” and he hangs up

You’re left there looking even more scared and confused. You recoil to the small protection of the booth waiting for that man. That man that lurks in your dreams, that scares you and intrigues you and that has occupied every thought since you met him.

A week ago

“So, explain to me again, what are we doing?”

“You need the money or not?” Tom stops and confronts you in the middle of the road

“I need it, of course, but I want to know what I’m getting myself into before ending up dead or in jail” you say not moving until he is a little clearer

“We’re meeting with one of my boss’ men and he will give us something to hand to someone else in a place and a time they had accorded. And that’s it. You and I get paid and everybody’s happy” he says with a desperate smile “C’mon” he approaches you and squeeze gently your arms, he even bends a little to meet your gaze “you know I have many friends and I have proposed this to you, only you, haven’t I? Cos I trust you” he adds

“Because I’m fucking broke, Tom. The rest of your friends wouldn’t be as desperate as me” You blurt

“Okay, let’s meet him and if it doesn’t convince you, I’ll do it alone. C’mon, let’s not be late, he would not like that”

You nod reluctantly. You hope this dude would pay for lunch, you’re starving, you had some instant noodles last night and today your breakfast was the crumbs of cereals that Tom had left because he was too lazy to throw away the box.

The restaurant is clearly not made for people like you and Tom, the employees look at you up and down but when they’re about to kick you out, a big man approaches them and he guides you to a part of the local that is quite with a warm and intimate light. There’re a few tables but they’re all empty, the last one is occupied by a well-dressed man that looks at the both of you intently.

Your first thought is that he doesn’t look as you had expected. You were sure that Tom was involved with drug dealers and whatever the job entitled was about drugs, weapons or both. He looks like a middle-age business man, or a public agent. He wears a tailored dark gray suit, an elegant wool coat and he’s clean shaven, elegant shoes, expensive, you think. God, make him be nice enough so he pays for lunch

When you face him, although you stay behind Tom, your theories about the man crumble. His eyes, those dark brown orbs, are fixed at Tom and his defined jaw clenches, in a second his eyes are on you and you can’t stand his gaze much longer.

“Hi, Dave, I didn’t know I would be seeing you, I thought I’d be meeting Resnik as usual” Tom voice is high and shaky, so it confirms your thoughts; the man is dangerous even if he doesn’t look like it

“This is important, and you came accompanied” he tilts his head to you

“I thought this was a job for two” Tom takes a sit in front of him and Dave leans on his seat stretching his shoulders, he’s broad, strong, how did you think this man was no threat at all?

“You thought” he smirks and you freeze on your feet, is it too late to run away? “And what’s your name?”

You tell him, your voice sounds pathetic, a little too squeaky. He smiles and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and suddenly every coherent thought that you could think is out of the window.

“Please take a sit” Dave appears to be a little bit more relax now, he crosses his hands over the table and smiles to the two of you “So why do you think you could be of service?”

“Well, it’s a club, a guy alone is usually a creep but if we go together we’re a couple, and they wouldn’t look at me if I’m with her” he chuckles and points at you

You open your mouth about to insult Tom and seeing that his intentions could be way more different that you thought. You’re not doing that kind of job

“Yeah” Dave agrees and looks at you up and down, he doesn’t avert his eyes when you look at him with you eyebrow raised. He’s not ashamed, he’s checking you out and he wants you to know it “It’s actually not a bad plan”

“I’m sorry, but whatis the plan?” you interrupt

“It’s simple, you and your boyfriend...”

“He’s not my boyfriend” you clarify

“Right” he seems to think about that for a few seconds, before he resumes the conversation “You two go to this club, there, you’ll meet the contact and you’ll give them this” he raises his hand and the big man that had previously taken you to the table gives him a black briefcase “There’re two things that are extremely important” He pushes the case towards you “one, you cannot open it and see what’s inside, I’ll know if you do. Two, whatever happens you must acquire the envelope that the contact would give to you in exchange for this”

“Consider it done, Dave” Tom reaches for the man and gently taps on his arm. You watches as the man tenses when he’s touched and if looks could kill...Tom would be dead on the ground in this very second

“I’m sorry, can I ask you a question?” you raise your hand and the tense moment passes when Dave looks at you and he’s smiling, actually a very warm smile

“Of course”

“You said whatever happens, what could happen? Who are we meeting?” you ask, Tom opens widely his eyes and kicks you under the table

“Don’t worry Tom, they are actually pretty good questions” when he switches his eyes to Tom, he’s back to that opaque stare that makes you tremble “I’m not going to lie to you, sweetheart” he sighs, the endearing term has made your belly turn and it’s not hunger, at least not the food type “this people are dangerous, and they could try to trick you into changing the terms of the agreement, or ask questions about me or any other thing, and you must stay put and seal the deal fast and easy. Don’t do anything stupid”

“Right... what’s inside the case?” you ask again, you try really hard not to avert your eyes, he has his eyes fixed on you, his gaze goes from your eyes to your lips and you squirm on your seat.

“I cannot tell you that” he shakes his head “but it’s something valuable, you have to be very careful with it”

“If we are caught by the police with that” you point to the briefcase “are we gonna be in trouble?”

He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest; you cannot prevent your eyes from admiring how the fabric of his clothes tenses around his muscles.

“You don’t have to worry about the police” he assures

“I feel you’re telling us not to worry about many things and I think it’s on the contrary we have too many things to worry about...with all due respect” you add, Tom kicks you harder this time and giggles nervously

“It’s your first time, it’s natural! I’ve done a few times, you don’t have to worry, you’ll be with me! right, Dave?” Tom slaps him on his shoulder again playfully and the man flinches and has a menacing look if you do it one more time, asshole, we’re going to die right here right now you think

“Right” he answers “Tom, why don’t you go with Kovac to the car you’ll use for the job, there you’ll have the phones and everything you’ll need to complete the mission” he says eventually. The big man, Kovac, approaches the table and stands besides Tom until he gets up to follow him.

You stand up too, thinking that the lunch is over.

“Stay, please” Dave grabs your wrist softly and you gasp when you feel his warm touch

“I-I” you stutter

“Don’t you want to eat anything? I sense you have more questions” he doesn’t let go of your hand, he brushes his fingers softly where you skin is thinner and you feel your pulse rushing, surely he does too

“Yes...I mean I could eat something” you sit, the rumbling on your belly confirms your hunger

“Order anything you want” he stands up and raises a hand towards a waitress. She rushes to the table with the menus while Dave takes off his coat and jacket, he raises his sleeves carefully and you are not aware that you’ve been staring at him the whole time with eyes wide open and lips partially parted, you’re completely dumb by his presence. He’s tall, strong and broad and you can’t smell his cologne and his aftershave from there and all you can think is coming closer to him and tasting his neck.

You look down the menu suddenly when you find that Dave has caught you admiring him and is smiling slyly at you.

“Anything you like?” he asks

“Yeah...I’d like...” you read as fast as you can trying to find something, the prices are ridiculous “the salad” you answer

“You can order anything, sweetheart” the term makes you skin tingle again, he’s voice is actually sweet and his smile docile this time when he sits again facing you

The waitress comes back and asks for your order but it’s smiling widely to Dave.

“So what you would like to order, sir?”

“We’re both getting the prime steak” he answers and you blush, of course you’d like to eat that but it’s so freaking expensive you didn’t even think about that

“Fries or roasted vegetables?” she taps on the screen

“Both” yes, you cheer inside your head, you’re going to eat properly for the first time in months

You actually don’t care about the job or Dave or anything when the plate arrives, and certainly you have forgotten about your friend, it’s been long enough but the scent of the meat makes your mouth water. You have forgotten your manners too; you attack the steak as if you were a caveman. The pleasure of the first bite makes you moan and wiggle or your seat.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Dave comments and you’re suddenly aware of where you are and with whom, he has an amused look

“Thank you” you say with your mouth full

“It’s nothing”

“I looked that hungry, huh? that’s why you ordered this?”

“Yes, you seemed to need a bit of protein. Protein makes you brain function properly and I need you sharp and quick if you’re going to work for me” he says picking from his plate

“You think I will work for you, I mean for longer than just this one job?” you scoff, you’re desperate, but you want to keep on the good track, find a proper job, a small apartment and stay out of trouble

“You don’t want to? I think you need the job” he licks his lips and you are again looking longer than you should

“Yes, but I need a proper job, a salary each month a conventional one. No offence”

“None taken. So you’re not like your friend”

“No, I guess I’m not. I’m just in a rough patch. Desperate situations calls for desperate measures” You shrug

“Hmm” he hums “I’m glad I can help you out of it then” he adds

“Yes, thank you. Though I’m still thinking that it could get me more trouble than I already have” you counter

“No if you’re smart and I think you’re a pretty smart girl”

“You’ve just met me”

“I’m good at reading people, part of the job” he shrugs

“So I’m a hungry desperate smart girl. Seems accurate”

“Pretty” he completes

“What?” you ask thinking you had heard him wrong

“I said you’re a hungry―I hope not anymore― desperate, pretty comma smart girl. Pretty as an adjective” he clarifies

You blush and look at him opening and closing your mouth searching for words

In that moment, Kovac and Tom arrive. The large man nods to Dave, and Tom looks at you and your half empty plate with a confused look.

“I have to go, but please, sit and finish your dish, you can order whatever you want too, Tom. Everything is on me. You don’t have to worry” Dave stands up and puts his jacket and coat back. You think you see a little bit of disappointment on his face. He reaches his hand to you, you drop the fork thinking that he wants to shake your hand but he brushes his thumb over your lower lip where a drop of the meat’s blood and sauce stains your chin.

“It’s been a pleasure” he says and then licks his thumb. He goes before you can answer and Tom is talking to you but you don’t listen.

All you could think was him, repeating that moment again and again in your mind.

“Are you listening?”

“Huh?”

“I told you about the car they gave us. It’s pretty cool”

You smile and focus on your plate, the juicy meat is delicious but all that passes through your brain is his lips. You bite and moan loudly.

Two hours before the phone booth call

The club is actually a house, a clandestine local in a remote place full of people playing poker and other types of game betting more money than you’ve ever seen. You and Tom arrive there holding hands, his left hand holding the briefcase. Tom had bought you your outfit, high heels that you don’t know how to walk with, a very revealing dress and the idiot forgot you hadn’t a proper coat to wear with this and here you are in the middle of winter with a shawl. Luckily the place is warm enough and you just suffered during the time you run to the entry from the parking.

The establishment smells like alcohol and cigars, its red velvet walls reminds you of the interior of a coffin and that image makes you shiver. You try not to look at anybody and focus on following Tom to the black armored door at the back. When you arrive he knocks twice before a small slot opens and a man asks for a password.

“Just like spy movies, huh?” Tom smiles and you would laugh but you’re terrified. Once that door closes behind you, there’s no way out

A large man dressed in black escort you through a red lighted aisle towards another armored door. This time he’s the one knocking twice, the slots opens and when a pair of eyes look through it you hear the locks being unlocked before they open it.

There’re ten people inside, chatting over a black table with some glasses on it. The conversation stops when you enter. Without a sign some of them are escorted out and only three men stay.

“Sit please, your girl can serve herself a drink” one man says, sitting at the center of the table. He’s dressed also in black, he’s blond hair sleek and shiny with hair gel “I guess you have something for me”

“Yes” Tom approaches the table and places the briefcase at the center. You do as you’ve been told and approach the bar full of different drinks. You’re too nervous to drink but you grab one of the empty glasses and pour some liquor in it. Your back is pressed against the sticky wood and you try to act casual.

The second man on the left takes it and opens it and shows it to the two other. There’s only one light in the room above the table and from here you can’t see much but it’s clear that the briefcase is full of money.

“Excellent. Did you know how much there is inside it?” the blond man ask Tom

“No” Tom seems relaxed, his arm leans on his chair and has his legs crossed

“There’s half a million here” he answers

“Wow!” Tom laughs

“For such a tiny thing” the man grabs something from his pocket and places a small white envelope on the table “Do you know what this is?”

“No”

And we don’t want to know you answer in your head Gosh Tom, let’s go

“Just an address. Somebody really valuable for your boss, look how much he’s paying. This poor fellow” he taps over the envelope “it’s nobody to me, that’s why I’m willing to trade this simple information knowing it will get him killed, but I have another deal for you, one that I’m really interested in”

Say no, no, we have to go now you clear your throat to get his attention but Tom ignores you

“You just have to let us track you to the place where you’ll meet your boss. And you can take the case back with you and I promise one similar to this one will find you once we kill your boss” he offers. Tom bites the inside of his cheek and hums

“Just track me?”

No, no, no you scream inside. You place the glass on the bar loudly but Tom is fixed with hungry eyes on the case.

“Let us install a simple tracking device to your car. And take this” he pushes the open briefcase “it’s yours”

Tom smiles and grabs it “Thank you”

“My colleague will accompany you to your car” the blonde man smiles back and the other man that reminded silent during the meeting gets up to follow Tom back to the car.

You walk to the table before they leave.

“I’m sorry, but he’ll need the envelope for the meeting. He cannot present himself empty handed, he will be dead before you could find his boss and they will make sure it’s the right one” you say shyly

“You’re a smart girl” the blond says “Here you are” he tends the paper and you force a smile.

You rush towards Tom and grab his hand. The man follows you a few meters away in silence. So you grab Tom by the waist and faking a smile whispers to his ear “What the fuck are you doing? Dave is going to kill us. You betrayed him”

“It’s a million dollars and they can take care of Dave for all I know he can die, he was paying a misery and I’m the one getting my ass in danger, don’t I?” he says back

“It’s better than being dead. And he’s going to kill us both and I did nothing, you betrayed me too”

“Calm down! I’m going to give you a part of this. Isn’t this what you wanted?” He has to raise his voice over the music once you arrive to public part of the club

“I didn’t want to die, I just want money to start again, not being involved in killing people and shit” you accused back

“Yeah right and it has nothing to do with you making eyes to Dave during lunch. Gosh, you’re pathetic. Shut up, take the money, and we will see each other never again” he pushes you from him clearly not caring to keep the being a couple front anymore.

When you arrive to the parking, Tom leaves the briefcase on the back seat. You stand a few meters away not knowing what to do. Tom is the only way out from here but you don’t want to participate in his treason.

“Open the driver’s door” the man says standing behind Tom

“Right away, brother”

Everything happens in an instant. You hear the gasp, the air leaving Tom’s body and his corpse hitting the ground more than the shot. Once the man raises the gun to you, you’re already running away.

You hear the bullets breaking the air and you run faster, tears running from your eyes but your bite your lips to prevent you from crying out loud knowing that he can hear you. Once your chest hurts and burns you stop, hidden in the tall grass you listen intently trying to know if he’s following you. And you wait. And you wait more.

You crouch down and you suddenly remember that you’re holding so hard to your purse and the little piece of paper that your hand hurts. You hold the envelope to your heart and sit on the cold mud because your legs cannot hold you any longer.

Present. Phone Booth

You think about the trip from town to this place and try to calculate how long it would take Dave to arrive. And it’s long and probably you’ll be dead before he comes even close. The men from the club must be looking for you. You’re a loose end, you know their faces and their place, everything. And you know Dave too. Shit.What are you going to tell him? Yes, Tom betrayed you but I didn’t. I actually didn’t want to do it, but did I prevent it? I couldn’t but what would he think? You’re a loose end for him too.

You know he runs shady business. And for all he knows you wanted to take the money as well and just was quicker on your feet so you ran away. He doesn’t know you; he knew Tom and he betrayed him. How could he trust you?

You need something, something to make him think you are true, that you didn’t betray him. And though you felt something in your little lunch together, he could just be playing with you or interested in a carnal way. God knows you had had very inappropriate thoughts about him too, but that doesn’t make you any less of a traitor. Pretty he said, pretty enough to be kept alive even though he doesn’t know if he can trust you? You don’t think so.

Whatever happens you must acquire the envelope he had said. So you open it. There’s a simple address on it:

8518 Rayburn Rd, Bethesda, MD 20817

So you expend the rest of the time repeating again and again. Until the pair of lights of the car appear through the fog. You hope it’s Dave and not the men from the club If it’s so I’ve expended my last moments alive memorizing a stupid address. Great.

The black car drives slowly until it’s a few meters away. You grab the paper and make a ball out of it and swallow it fast chewing hard. It’s horrible, raspy and muddy, but you know that throwing it wouldn’t do it as well as tear it apart. The paper needs to disappear; you must be indispensable to him.

You actually cry in relief when Dave calls your name and you run towards the lights. You actually don’t think your action but when you see his shape you run faster and hug him tightly. He’s warm and smells delicious as you noticed at the restaurant. He tenses at first but then he holds you back, gently patting your head and hushing you with calming noises.

“You’re alright, you’re safe now” you know it’s not actually true but in that second you enjoy it “Get in the car, you’re freezing” he caresses your arms up and down trying to warm you

When you get in the car, you feel as you have step inside the gates of heaven. It’s warm and cozy, the leather is the softest thing you have ever felt and everything smells like Dave. He gets in the driver’s seat and grabs something from the back: his wool coat and throws it over you and tucks you in it. He stays in silence for a few minutes and you feel yourself doze off when he speaks in a soft and low tone.

“So what happened?” he sighs and leans on his seat turning to you

“Tom was a fucking idiot” you spat and he grins “They offered him the money inside the briefcase for your location and promised him more money” you speak the truth, you know there’s no point in lying to him “He accepted and well, I didn’t know what to say, I tried to change his mind but it was too late”

“What happened to the envelope?” he asks

“I took it”

“Can you give it to me?” he reaches a hand and you see he’s wearing leather gloves, actually he’s completely dressed in black

“No” you say and you bite your lip

“You lost it?” he asks and you cannot read what’s going through his mind but his eyes are fixed on you, darker than you remembered

“No” you say

“You have to give it to me” he says and his voice gets lower, it should be menacing, it is, but you feel your lower belly twist

“I ate it” you answer

“You did what?” he looks surprise but you cannot tell if he’s mad or amused

“I remember the address” you take out one single finger from under the coat and point to your temple “I memorized it and ate it so you wouldn’t kill me”

Dave stays there in silence for a few minutes, and then smirks and chuckles

“Very good” he praises “You did very good” he reaches for you cheek and brushes his leather gloved hands tenderly “Good girl” his voice is low and deep and it makes you squirm under your cover, his coat, that smells just like him.

“You’re not going to kill me?” you murmur

“No, I cannot do it now, don’t I?” he smiles at you

“But what about when I tell you the address and you kill whoever lives there, what then?” you say, now that you’re warm enough you are aware of the mess you made of his car, mud stains everywhere, his coat is ruined “I’m a witness and now I know you’re about to kill somebody” you add

“You remember what I told you at the restaurant?” he asks and starts the car finally moving from this dreadful place

Yes, you called me sweetheart a couple of times and then called me pretty you want to answer

“I told you about working for me” he reminds you

“You want me to work for you?”

“Yes. I want it since I first met you, sweetheart” you actually surprise yourself once you feel that you’re smiling when he calls you that again

“You trust me? But Tom...”

“Tom was Tom, you are you. And I trust you to be smarter than he was. You have proved it to me, he failed the test he had to pass” you admire his strong big hands on the wheel and his straight posture that allows you to marvel at his features and his long neck

“What test?” you say after scolding yourself for looking at him like an idiot

“This test”

“This was a test? What?” you cry

“Not in the sense that it was prepared, of course. Those men were very much interested in me and my team, and I knew they were trying to get some of my men to turn. I have to test Tom before he entered the team for more complicated tasks, I had to know if he was ready, and he wasn’t”

“And why did you let me get in this?”

“That was his first mistake. Never ever” he points with his finger “tell another person about the job or try to get somebody on it without me asking first. I allowed it because I saw something in you. A hunger”

“Is that a joke?” you ask

“I guess” he smirks “but also true, you said it yourself ‘desperate situations call for desperate measures’ That was what got me on this kind of job on the first place. I liked you, I’d just hoped you were as smart as you looked and got out there alive. And you did”

“What if I don’t want it?” you mutter

“Hmm” he evaluates for a moment “Again, I hope you’re smarter than that and refuse the only chance you have. I mean, you have been evicted, all your accounts cancelled, you don’t have a family and the relatives that you still have you wouldn’t contact them even if you were dying, so, I’m the only thing you got, sweetheart”

“Did you investigate me?” you ask after a few quite minutes. He’s right, you know that

“Yes, I have to know everything if you’re going to be part of the team” he admits with a shrug

“I know nothing about you, or your team, how am I going to trust you?” you demur

“You will learn to trust me and the team once you’re trained” he explains

“Train? Who’s going to train me? and for what?”

“I’m going to train you. I’m going to train you until you’re what I want and what I need and in time; I think it will be a satisfying ending for both of us and this situation”

“What kind of job would I do?”

“Kill” he says simple and straightforward

You shiver at his words and hold tight to his coat. Do you really want to be an assassin? Do you have a choice?

He stops the car. You don’t have a house, you have nothing, only this, a dirty dress and a borrowed coat and the help of a man you’re sure could and would kill you without hesitation. And though, you have no choice there’s a side of you that’s dying to surrender to him, to let him make you what he wants. You desire to be his, you want to be what he wants, what he needs but not as his associate, not exactly like that.

“So what do you say? Do you want to be mine?” you squirm on your seat.

“Yes”

#Writer Wednesday #Dave York x F!reader #Pedro Pascal #Dave York #The Equalizer 2 #Dave York x f!reader #Dave York x you #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #The Equalizer 2 fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dave York fanfic

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jinxfirebolt18902 · 4 years ago

Text

Ohana Part 2 - (Ben Hardy!Warren Worthington III Serie)

Words: 1.824

Summary: Warren accidentally made a family of his own and he’s determined to do anything in his will to protect them, but maybe that won’t be enough and a little help may be needed.

A/N: I don’t like this that much but for now it will do, sorry. And sorry for the delay, Uni is killing me.

Part 1

[GIF NOT MINE]

Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and the only thing that had changed was the little family’s life expectations and health deteriorating. Every other mutant had catched up with the news. Not only Angel had been re-captured but also Mockingbird… and their brood. It had caused quite a reaction around the place. First of all, an offspring coming out of both of them was obviously unplanned, and revolutionary somehow. On the other hand, everyone knew humans were capable of committing terrible atrocities against mutants, no news there. But taking a child who had so far showed no abnormality at all into an illegal, unsanitary, fight club was beyond what every mutant could expect. It was clear a few workers felt uncomfortable with the situation as well but they only followed rules and got paid, so the best they could do was sneak Warren’s cage next to hers for a few minutes. Yet it was extremely risky and had only happened twice in over seventy days.

Their bodies had changed. Warren’s torso had now new scars striping his white skin. She was thinner and looked pretty sick. She always gave most of her food to Charlie to make sure he wasn’t hungry. The food quality alone was pretty bad. Dehydration and malnutrition were slowly but surely making their way within their organisms, not to mention the exposure to viruses and infections. The walls were rotten with moisture as well as the remaining wooden doors. The metal ones were rusty and the place had no heating except for the showroom. Clouds of cigarette smoke hung in the rooms as the ventilation wasn’t great either. There was no possible way of not getting sick, especially if you weren’t eating well, or if you had a four-year-old’s immune system.

Charlie’s spirits were of general concern. The other women in her room tried their best to cheer him up and keep him entertained. It wasn’t really difficult as he was so young and creative games easily got him focused. The problem was Mockingbird was losing her life, in every sense. The red-headed lady had warned her, she had to be strong for her son, but even if she tried her body was collapsing gradually. Her mind had tricked her as well. She’d convinced herself she wasn’t the strong lonely winged girl she was years ago. That rough girl had disappeared and the new Mockingbird couldn’t find the strength within herself to keep going. Everyday was a new battle against life, and each one that passed was making her wonder when she would finally lose. She had been put to fight mutants a few times and each had ended with her barely conscious, Charlie being forced to stay with a stranger in another cage and forbidden to look at her injured mother till the next day. The first time they took her a lot of shouting happened.

Two men came in the room unexpectedly, wasting no time in opening her cage. She couldn’t even understand what was going on until a third man ripped Charlie off her arms and handed him over the next cage, the other two grabbing her by one of her arms each. Her brain couldn’t process the fact they had taken her son away from her for the first time since they were there, a guttural scream stuck in her throat as her eyes explored everywhere around her in desperation. The female mutant known as Birdy held Charlie’s hand in concern as the little boy was terrified watching his mom being drawn through the door, tears falling down his pink cheeks and cries escaping his mouth.

As soon as she was being carried down the hall her voice suddenly screeched at the top of her lungs. Warren’s head, which was blankly staring at an invisible point on the floor, shot up at the recognition of the scream. He stood up at a speed he hadn’t thought he could and shouted back, trying to put his head between the bars in a failed attempt to catch a glimpse of something, anything. Apparently she heard him, managing to stop the men from walking further.

—Warren?!

He called back but the men had already moved again, pulling her towards the big cage. Warren was beyond mad. He pushed so hard against the lock of the cage the motion sent it completely over itself. The commotion caused a crew to come check what Warren had done. As they began lifting his cage Warren grasped the collar of one of them pulling him against the bars, the nose of the guy bent against the cold material. He could feel Warren’s breath all over his face.

—Where the fuck are you taking her? —the question filled with menace. — Where is my son?! —this time he shouted it, spitting mini droplets onto his skin.

The other men helped the hostage and took a few feet away from Angel as they feared his unpredictable behaviour, taking his rapid breaths and visible neck veins as a warning. They told him. His expression became instantly one of worry. No… No, she can’t…

After twenty minutes of show, Mockingbird was being dragged back to her cage, a sight which, although Warren didn’t see, Edgar made sure to detail only to enjoy the frustration and helplessness in his eyes.

Charlie hadn’t stopped crying till one of the girls with vocal powers sang him a lullaby. When the door opened and they brought her in several gasps were heard. Though Birdy had the toddler asleep in her arms, she turned in case he would open his sterling grey eyes and see the decrepit state of his mom.

The other times she was recruited were pretty similar. Lots of shouting, crying and useless anger. Now it had been weeks since the last time she fought yet her body was no better. Bruises still lingered in her skin, which was grey not only due to the dirt but also to illness. Her mouth was dry with her lips all cracked and her eyes half open. She couldn’t say if her muscles didn’t hurt or if they hurt so bad that she could no longer tell the difference.

—Mommy…? —the little boy left the made up toys given by the red-headed lady and approached her, making himself comfortable on her lap. A sneeze interrupted his unstarted sentence. He’d been sneezing and coughing a lot the last three days. —I miss daddy. —her head barely moved to look at him. She couldn't contain her own tears. With a movement that took a tremendous energy out of her, she held her hand up to caress the boy’s hair. She grunted in pain as she kissed his forehead.

—I know baby… me too. —her voice was hoarse and low. Every breath was an exertion.

A few hours later things were silently getting worse. It was the coldest day they had spent there. A thick snow cape covered Germany’s streets and buildings. Tonight a big fight featuring Angel and a really fat mutant had the air filled with excitement. It was the red-headed mutant the one who noticed it. Firmly setting her sight on Mockingbird she noticed she was breathing shallowly. She sensed something was wrong.

—Hey! Chs... You! —her voice got the attention of some other mutants. —Mockingbird!

No response. Her eyes drifted to the baby boy shivering in his sleep. He was covered in sweat and snot fell from his little nose. He was probably running a fever. They had to do something. She sent a look at her partners and they secretly set to work in order to do what they had to do first: let Warren know what was going on.

—Holy shit… —a young boy muttered when he got the news. He didn’t want to be the one telling Angel his girlfriend was dying right then and there, a few rooms away with his son suffering from fever on her lap. He swallowed forcibly.

—Uhm… A-Angel?

Warren slowly turned his head in his direction. When the boy faced those empty cold eyes he muted, taking a few seconds to gain his composure and carry on with his task. —Women say your-your g-she. Women say she—Warren furrowed his eyebrows and stood up at a low pace, grabbing the bars for help. Panicking the mutant didn’t know how to say it and only got himself tangled in an unintelligible utterance. —Spit it out at once!

—They say she’s dying! —the boy shouted, closing his eyes as if trying to hide himself. When he opened them tho, he saw the blonde falling in shock. No anger, no eruption like a volcano, no tears, no breaths, only a blink as his body collapsed against the bars once more, the freezing material embracing him.

—There 's more. Your son. He 's very sick. —another mutant added.

He didn’t respond. Instead he turned his head towards the door and started shouting non-stop at the top of his lungs.

A third of an hour later, men came to carry his cage to the show but left him in the corridor that led to the electrified gate, not inside yet.

—YOU MOTHER FUCKERS LET ME OUT! —Warren’s cheeks and ears were pink. The veins in his neck and forehead stood out. His hair couldn't be more tangled and greasy. His breathings were rapid and he was sweating all over. His throat was already burning from so much shouting. He had to save her. He had to save them.

—Well well well… It’s my champ number one, isn’t it? —Warren’s face contorted with rage at Edgar’s appearance on the other side of his cage.

—They are dying. Get them help right now... and you can keep me for the rest of my life. —his tone was firm but somewhat pleading at the same time.

Edgar’s face stretched with a sardonic smile. And Warren lost any hope he had, leaving a deep hollow in his soul. There was nothing left, he’d lose them, maybe not Charlie, but… Everything he had got to know about love, about having a family that cares for you, about life actually not being that bad… It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he be happy? Why couldn’t people live and let live? He and his little family hadn’t done anything to anyone…

Half an hour later the crowd was full. He heard noises, shouts, voices, but not words. The blinding white light fell on him on one side and on the other mutant opposite him.

—Ladies and gentlemen! Weeeeeelcome to this exciting night with our champion number one, Angeeeeeel!!!

The front side of his cage opened allowing him to step in. He had decided to hate life. From now on, not a heart would keep beating if they came in his way. His opponent was about to pay for all the damage Angel had gone through, and boy it wasn’t going to be pretty.

#warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington iii #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy warren #xmen apocalypse #warren x reader

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years ago

Note

Hi!!! I love your writing so much! May I have #13 with Loki, please?

You certainly can! Thank you so much for your continued enthusiastic support.

A/N: #13 was “The thought of losing you was the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt.”

Warnings: Language, blood, violence, death (but not graphically described).

I Told You So

You were fucked. You were so thoroughly fucked.

Crouched behind a concrete support pillar amidst the wreckage of what once appeared to be a normal office with your heart in your throat and your hands putting pressure on the steadily throbbing bullet graze on your waist, you knew that this was a mission you probably weren’t coming back from. Sure, you had called for backup as soon as it went south, but they had yet to show and you could hear ominous footsteps slowly closing in around you. Your breaths hissed out through your clenched teeth. Bullets pockmarked the wall in front of you at random intervals, spraying debris and dust that choked your parched throat.

Turns out Hydra wasn’t too keen on you coming in and infiltrating their base hidden in plain sight. Weird. So when you’d shown up earlier in the morning, instead of being met with a cup of terrible coffee and muttered conversation about the awfulness of Mondays, you had been greeted with the barrels of several guns shoved into your face.

Now, pressed into a corner, all you had to rely on was your telekinetic abilities and a pistol with four bullets in it. Not the best odds.

A man appeared in your peripheral vision, gun raised and sighted onto your head. You raised one blood-stained hand to swipe at him with your powers, sending him flying into the nearest wall with a resounding crack! that made you flinch.

Loki had fought you coming on this mission, snarled and hissed and raged to disguise the fear that you knew pounded through his veins like a poison. You had stood firm, comforting yet unyielding as you insisted that you were fully capable of handling it. He couldn’t coddle you forever. He had fallen in love with an Avenger, and there was a price to pay for the perks of being a professional ass-kicker.

“Hold on princess, your knight in shining leather is almost here. And we’re coming, too,” Tony quipped, full of bravado and snark even through the earpiece you had shoved into your ear as soon as the situation had flipped upside down.

You poked your head out from behind the pillar, catching a quick look at the dozens of business casual Hydra agents advancing on you before you were forced to retreat at the flash of their weapons. Shit. “Any day now would be swell.”

The screech of metal wrenching into pieces and glass shattering was music to your ears. Blasts drowned out the sound of gunfire, and you would recognize that specific whine of Tony’s repulsors anywhere. Swallowing down the last of your fear, you stood up and walked around the pillar, taking out three agents in rapid succession. The last bullet went flying, as the woman you had aimed at crumpled to the ground from a dagger sticking out of her chest.

Loki was glorious in battle, a sight to be seen and a distracting one at that. Sure, you adored him in the mornings, soft and rumpled from sleep, his raven hair a halo around him as he pulled you into him even in his sleep. But this was where he truly seemed to thrive. Cape flowing dramatically behind him, his leathers dark and striking and moving fluidly with his graceful, powerful movements as he used his blades and speed to take down enemy after enemy, he looked the part of a battle-hardened warrior prince through and through.

You were only vaguely aware of the others coming in guns blazing through the hole in the wall that Tony had blasted. Lightning lit Loki from behind as he killed each and every person in between the two of you, exuding a terrifying deadly air that sent a wave of delicious heat rolling through you.

There wasn’t a moment lost once every enemy was taken down. Loki sped to you and pulled you into the circle of his arms, crushing you to him so tightly that you weren’t sure where he ended and you began. You matched his desperation, clinging to him like he was the only force strong enough to hold you to the godforsaken carpet ruined with glass and blood. Copper, dirt, and salt filled your nostrils as you breathed him in, only the faintest hint of the spicy earthy scent of his cologne was able to penetrate the scent of combat that clung to his skin.

“You should have listened to me,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he curled as protectively around you as he possibly could.

You shifted slightly so that the pressure of his embrace was off of your wound, smoothing your hands over his leather-covered spine again and again to both soothe him and yourself. “I know.”

He pulled away from you just enough to peer down at you, taking stock of the bruising and blood on your face. The agony written in the downward tilt of his eyebrows and the tightness of his eyes wrapped around your heart and squeezed. “I did not know if I would make it to you in time. The thought of losing you,” he paused, a muscle in his jaw fluttered and he took a deep shaky breath before continuing on, “was the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt.”

“I’m okay,” you reassured him with a weak smile.

But your knees buckled just after those placating words passed your chapped lips. The loss of adrenaline and sticky, hot blood that now soaked your side worked together to remind you just how not okay you truly were.

Loki cursed, feeling you falter against him, and swept you easily into the cradle of his arms. His eyes flitted over the slowly growing crimson stain on your white blouse that had been hidden by your black blazer, revealed by your curled up position against his chest. “You stubborn woman.”

Once inside the waiting Quinjet he sat down on a waiting cot secured against the wall, stretching you out carefully so that you were on your side with your head cushioned against his warm thighs. Nat came in moments later, somehow still breathtakingly gorgeous herself with mussed hair and dirt streaking her face. She tended to you quickly, putting an IV in your arm for saline and pain medication before patching you up the best that she could. The entire time Loki held onto your hand, his other hand smoothing over your hair in a comforting rhythm that matched his steady breaths.

You fought the deadening weight of the morphine, staring at the intricately woven leather of his trousers with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You should rest,” he suggested quietly, once everyone was back on board and you were soaring through the skies towards the Compound.

“I’m okay,” you replied. It seemed as if you were only capable of two word sentences lately.

A blanket appeared out of nowhere, covering your body from foot to shoulder with the wave of his free fingers. His other hand scratched lightly at your scalp, combing out the tangles formed from sweat and blood. “I am not losing you today, sweetling. Rest now. I have you.”

Content knowing that he would watch over you, but only after you tugged your clasped hands into your chest, you answered the siren call of morphine and exhaustion, drifting peacefully into the warm nothingness that sounded quite like Loki’s rich, low voice whispering, “I love you.”

~~~

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @myoxisbroken @blah666 @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @silverswordthekilljoy @tinchentitri @brokenthelovely @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic

#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki/reader #marvel fanfic #loki fighting #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #hopeless750celebration #hopelesswrites #i told you so #protective loki #protective!loki

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knuffled · 5 years ago

Text

discipline & punish - chapter two

the new chapter is here as promised! hope you all like it! it would make my day if you reblogged!

here’s the ao3 link

bloodflood

The waves were choppier the following week. The beach overlooking the sound was besieged by churning, gunmetal gray waves tearing away at the sand, like the sea sought to devour the earth. Annabeth rarely went to the beach as it was – she never felt safe there – but she had even better reason to avoid it now.

She hardly registered time passing that week – an hour spanned the length of a year and a day passed in the blink of an eye. There was something heavy in the air. It was like waiting for an inevitable storm, not the kind you marveled at behind your bedroom window, but the kind where thunder rang too closely, too loudly in your ears and the torrential downpour sounded like gunfire.

Annabeth couldn't help feeling like she had brought a ticking time bomb into her camp. All week her thoughts strayed to Percy, and more than once she'd felt short of breath, like his hands were still wrapped around her throat. When he was finally recovered, she knew that he would confront her, and this time he wouldn't be slowed down. This time he would be at his best.

If Annabeth was being honest, she wasn't sure she could handle his best, although she would never admit that out loud. It wasn't her fault though – years of peace had dulled her instincts. She was grossly out of practice. The traces of the fiery sixteen year old driving a dagger through Kronos's heart in the ruins of Mt. Olympus seemed a distant dream from another lifetime.

Her conversation with Reyna had done nothing to assuage her mounting anxiety either. She had Iris Messaged the praetor of New Rome a few days after her skirmish with Percy in the hospital to get her opinion on the situation. Although they weren’t particularly close, there had always been a mutual respect between them given that they were both leaders of their respective communities.

When her face showed on the Iris Message, Reyna had smiled tiredly and said, “What a surprise. It’s not often that I hear from you.”

“Life’s been busy,” Annabeth said.

“Isn’t it always?” Reyna said, picking at a fraying strand of her cape. “How is New Athens coming along?”

“Good,” Annabeth said, sighing. “It’s just that there is always more to do. You have to come by once it’s finished. I’ll give you a tour.”

Reyna smiled again, more warmly this time. “I’ll have to take you up on that offer. I could certainly use a break.”

“Being praetor sounds stressful,” Annabeth offered.

Reyna pressed her hand to her forehead and sighed. “Not much more than being Camp Director, I would imagine, but you’re right. Neither of us enjoys playing politics and dealing with bruised egos, but that’s not something we can avoid, I’m afraid.”

“You’ve got that right,” Annabeth said, laughing.

“Well, enough of my rambling. I’m sure you’re calling for a reason,” Reyna said, straightening in her seat.

Annabeth bit her lip and tried to think of how best to phrase what she wanted to say. “There’s a new arrival here at camp that concerns me, and I wanted to get your opinion,” she said.

Reyna raised an eyebrow and said, “Well, color me intrigued. It’s not very often to see you bothered by another demigod.”

“He’s – well, he’s different. The main reason I wanted to ask you about him was because he said that he came from the Wolf House,” Annabeth said.

Reyna frowned. “That’s probably a lie. If he was from the Wolf House, he would’ve been sent to Camp Jupiter, not all the way across the country.”

Annabeth nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought at first too, but I don’t know – I get the sense that he isn’t lying.”

When Reyna was silent, Annabeth said, “Do you know a demigod named Percy?”

At the mention of his name, Reyna’s countenance darkened, which did nothing to soothe Annabeth’s growing sense of despair. Reyna screwed her eyes shut and exhaled sharply.

“So that’s where he’s gone,” she muttered.

“You know him?”

Reyna opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes, he came to New Rome, early last summer. At first, we tried to accommodate him, but it became clear that we couldn’t control him. He picked fights wherever he went and clashed with me and Frank over the right to become praetor.”

“What happened?” Annabeth asked.

“He nearly killed Frank. Then when I intervened, I didn’t do much better. Neither of us were prepared for him. Maybe it was because we were so out of practice. I can’t remember the last time I was in a fight to the death, but Percy, on the other hand, seemed very accustomed to it,” Reyna said.

She shifted her toga so Annabeth could get a better look at her shoulder, and Annabeth stiffened when she saw a long jagged scar that ran from the top of Reyna’s shoulder down the side of her stomach, stopping above of her hip.

Reyna must’ve noticed Annabeth’s shocked expression because she grimaced and said, “You should see Frank’s. He was far worse. Spent nearly three weeks in the hospital.”

“So how did you get him to leave?” Annabeth asked.

“It took me and a battalion of other legionnaires to fight him off. Even then, he killed seven of them and injured thirteen others before we succeeded,” Reyna said.

“Jesus,” Annabeth muttered.

Reyna nodded and said, “He’s dangerous, Annabeth. He’s not the type that listens to logic or reason. You need to get rid of him, or you’re in for bloodshed.”

That had been nearly three days ago, but Annabeth still hadn’t made a decision on whether or not to exile Percy from camp. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Reyna or her judgment – it was more so that she wasn’t sure it was fair to exile someone for a crime they had yet to commit. At the same time, Annabeth knew that as Camp Director, her obligation was to the citizens of New Athens and that she couldn’t jeopardize their safety for the sake of one camper. Furthermore, if he was strong enough to push Reyna to the brink, then he was truly dangerous indeed. Annabeth knew firsthand that the praetor of New Rome was powerful enough to rival her.

Despite knowing all these things, there was some resistance to taking preemptive action against Percy in her that Annabeth didn’t understand. Her indecision lasted too long, however, and the window to act slipped away because Percy finished recovering only a few days later.

:::

He found her in the forest behind New Athens. In her younger days, Annabeth had played Capture the Flag or tamed wild pegasi there, but now she went there for peace and quiet. Nonetheless, when he found her that day, Annabeth had been coaxing a wild pegasus to eat an apple she’d brought with her.

The pegasus was as white as fresh fallen snow and very haughty, even more so than other pegasus. It took Annabeth nearly half an hour for the pegasus to even trust her enough to approach her. Eventually, it allowed her to get closer and sniffed and examined the apple before taking a tentative bite. As it ate, Annabeth took the opportunity to run her fingers through its white mane and marveled at how the thin hairs appeared incandescent beneath the dappled sunlight.

That was when she noticed someone was watching her. When she turned around, she almost didn’t recognize who it was, but the newcomer’s eyes gave his identity away. Percy looked completely different with his haircut, now that his face was no longer obscured. Although it wasn’t a word typically used to describe men, Annabeth couldn’t help thinking he looked beautiful. Not beautiful like a jewel safely stored behind a glass window but beautiful like the curve a hawk’s talons, somehow elegant and savage at the same time.

“How’d you find me?” Annabeth asked.

Percy shrugged and moved out into the copse. “Wasn’t hard. You’re the only one around here that smells strong.”

At this proximity, that weird scent of his washed over her, nearly making her stagger. It was stronger now than it had been before. It had already been potent enough beforehand, but now it was taking a lot of conscious effort to maintain a hold of herself. She found herself clenching and unclenching her fingers in an effort to resist the urge to run her fingers through his hair. How much more intense would the smell be if she buried her face in the crook of his neck?

Annabeth shook her head in a futile effort to clear her mind. “What do you want? I doubt you made it all the way out here just for some fresh air,” she said.

Percy’s lips curled upwards in the ghost of a smile, but the gesture conveyed malice more than humor. “You know why I’m here,” he said.

“You’ll have to spell it out for me,” Annabeth said.

When he sauntered towards her, Annabeth’s hand twitched towards her thigh before she remembered she hadn’t brought her dagger with her.

“I want to fight for the right to rule,” he said.

Annabeth blinked. “The right to rule?”

Percy nodded and said, “Yes, unless you’re fine with me living as I please and ignoring your rules, but something tells me you wouldn’t agree to that.”

“If you’re staying here, you have to follow the rules,” Annabeth replied. “What makes you think you have any right to lead the camp as a newcomer?”

Percy shook his head and said, “You misunderstand. I have no wish to command. All I want is to do as I please.”

“That’s not the way society works,” Annabeth said, narrowing her eyes.

Percy shrugged and sad, “The strong do not need to bend to what society wants.”

“You think just because you’re powerful, you get to do whatever the fuck you want?”

Percy frowned, like what she’d said was absurd. “Isn’t that only natural? Do you think a dragon cares about the opinions of a rat?”

“You’re not a dragon, and they aren’t rats,” Annabeth said, feeling her irritation mounting.

“That’s not how I see it,” Percy said.

Annabeth grit her teeth. What a little shit. There was no point trying to philosophize with him. He didn’t seem like he would change his mind unless he was beaten into submission.

“So you want the two of us to fight then?” Annabeth asked.

When he nodded, Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I don’t see what I have to gain by fighting you.”

At this, Percy offered a wolfish grin. “Is your life not prize enough?”

Annabeth felt her jaw tighten. Reyna was right. The boy didn’t listen.

:::

A small crowd formed at the training arena that night in preparation for Annabeth’s fight with Percy. Even though they didn’t know what was at stake, they still seemed to sense that this fight was more important than a regular bout of sparring. Annabeth did her best to ignore them, but she could catch scraps of whispered conversations amongst them.

The moon was missing from the sky that night, and the darkness seemed overbearing. There was a chill in the wind that seemed out of place for a night in August and tension hung in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Not for the first time, Annabeth wished Chiron were still here and in charge. He would probably know how to deal with this situation better than she did. He might’ve have been able to figure something out that wouldn’t end in bloodshed.

At the other end of the arena, Percy looked through an assortment of imperial bronze and celestial gold weapons to fight with. His face was perfectly blank, so Annabeth couldn’t tell if there was anything he preferred or didn’t. She had already begun to size him up – looking for clues in his mannerisms, body language, facial expressions, eye movement – anything to give her an idea of just what exactly she was up against. Unfortunately, he gave her nothing to work with.

Eventually, he settled on picking out a half-and-a-half sword made out of celestial bronze. Annabeth watched as he gauged the heft of it in his hand, trying to find its center of gravity, before he moved on to some test strikes with the blade. She’d already had a glimpse of his speed and combat prowess in the hospital, but she was taken aback when the blade vanished in a blur, moving faster than her eyes could track. A pit formed in her stomach – he moved the blade as if it weighed nothing more than a reed and it was clear that he knew how to use it. It was hard to tell under the cover of darkness, but she thought she saw his lips curl upwards in the ghost of a smile.

When he turned towards her, the feral quality inherent to his eyes seemed amplified. Annabeth’s senses already began to sharpen as he walked over to her. It felt less like she was fighting another human being and more like she was preparing to get pounced on by a wild animal. There was something about him that felt definitively inhuman, something about the way he carried himself that screamed that he wasn’t like other people, that he was a different breed altogether, like he was designed to hunt human beings, not live amongst them.

“Are you ready?” Annabeth asked, clearing her throat.

When Percy nodded, she said, “We’ll go three rounds. First to two victories will be the winner.”

Percy barked a laugh. “Do all your opponents give you three chances to take their lives or are you trying to insult me? No, in a fight to the death there can only be one round.”

Annabeth grit her teeth and unsheathed her dagger. “Fine by me.”

They stepped closer to each other, close enough for Annabeth to see the faint splay of freckles on the bridge of his nose. If the crowd was making any noise now, she could no longer hear it. Her hands were not clammy – years of experience had seen to that. Fear vanished and was replaced by a savage excitement as the thrill of the hunt consumed them both.

Percy struck first, his blade moving faster than it had even during his test strokes. Annabeth stepped back, but the tip of his sword caught her cheek and left a small cut. Her senses sharped impossibly further.

This was happening.

Annabeth made a move of her own, stabbing for his inner thigh. Percy parried her strike, but Annabeth was already in motion for her next attack. She swept out with her leg to try to knock him off his feet. The maneuver failed, but that was expected. All she needed was for him to be off balance for her next move. Percy neatly jumped over her leg, as anticipated, and Annabeth continued by thrusting forward with her free hand, aiming for his windpipe. He reacted in the nick of time and ducked to evade her strike, but his pressure stopping her dagger had lessened imperceptibly, which was what Annabeth had been waiting for.

She thrust at his stomach, but Percy failed to avoid it. She felt a surge of triumph when the blade cut through his shirt and slit the side of his torso.

Percy retaliated with a savage strike with the pommel of his sword against the side of Annabeth’s head. Her skull burst with pain, nearly leading her to get decapitated by his subsequent strike, but she managed to parry it with her dagger just barely.

The fight seemed to last an eternity as they exchanged blows. Annabeth realized immediately how he had nearly killed Frank and given Reyna so much trouble. The way he fought had no rhyme or reason. Everything was unpredictable and improvisational. He did things she had never seen anyone else do, such as using the flat of his blade as a blunt instrument or taking advantage of the soil they fought on to subtly unseat her balance. Percy utilized all of his appendages in battle and they were just as deadly as the sword he carried – she could block his blade only to catch a knee to her ribs or an open palm to her ear.

What frustrated her most was that she was unable to get a sense for him at any point in the fight. No matter how strong her opponents had been in the past, after a certain amount of time fighting, she got a sense of their habits and unconscious biases. Perhaps they favored attacking from one side or found it uncomfortable to defend attacks from a certain angle. All human beings had preferences that they were unaware of.

Percy, it seemed however, was an exception to that rule. Just when she thought that he preferred slashes to thrusts or that he tended to pivot with his left foot when he dodged, he would do just the opposite with equal prowess and throw off her assessment.

However, what made her realize that she would lose the fight was that strange fucking smell that clung to him like a perfume. At the beginning of the fight, her senses had been so sharpened and focused on her survival that she had been able to tune it out, but as the fight progressed, it began to seep through her focus. It would cause her to respond sluggishly or lose concentration for just fractions of a second, but against an opponent of Percy’s caliber those fractions meant the difference between life and death.

As a result, she gradually accumulated more and more injuries as the fight drew on. The fact that she was woefully out of practice only sealed with greater certainty that this fight would end with her loss. Despair settled in and she began to get increasingly desperate. Her attacks became progressively sloppier and her defenses more lethargic.

A line of searing pain burst through her when Percy cut the side of her face, carving from the tip of her ear down to her jaw. Blood seeped into her eye as he moved to his next attack. Time slowed down. Annabeth could see that his next strike would skewer her stomach and lacerate her intestines. Even if she were to evade him, Annabeth honestly could not see how to win the fight. At best, she was prolonging the inevitable.

Instead of fear, the emotion that erupted in her at that moment was anger. White, hot anger. This little, eighteen year old fucker who she’d saved from certain death was trying to take her camp from her. Her camp. The one that she spent the last half-decade of her life building, brick by fucking brick.

But what infuriated her more than anything he had done was the fact that she feared him. Deep down in her heart, she was afraid she would lose, and that was something she could not abide by. She had killed the enemies of literal fucking gods. She had looked into the golden eyes of the Lord of Time and stabbed him in the heart and watched as his golden blood coated her fingers. To think that she was afraid of a stripling like Percy was an insult she couldn’t bear.

For once in her life, Annabeth allowed herself to give in to that dark part of her that fought constantly with her for control of her soul, the part of her that sought to dominate and bend others to her will, the part of her that would rather die than allow herself to be ruled by another.

Percy’s sword drew closer to her stomach, but she didn’t step away from it. Instead, she moved slightly to the side. It sank into her flesh and brought with it a bolt of pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced, but that didn’t matter now. Instead, Annabeth curled her free hand around the blade and barely registered how it sliced into her palm and fingers.

For the first time during their fight, Percy looked surprised. Percy tried to unsheathe his blade, but again Annabeth gripped it with all her strength and it would not budge. They locked eyes, unable to look away from each other, and the sound of her blood dripping from the blade seemed unnaturally loud in her ears.

Annabeth’s subsequent movements were utterly unplanned and transpired with an addictive fluidity. She hooked her foot behind Percy’s right heel knocked him off balance. The maneuver would have failed, but Percy knew he couldn’t surrender his blade if he wanted to win, which locked him in place and made it impossible for him to evade her. As Percy fell to the ground, Annabeth pressed her knee to his stomach and followed him down, carefully holding his sword so it didn’t drive further into her as she fell. When he hit the ground, her knee knocked the breath out of his lungs, giving her a split second to press her knife to his throat.

By the time he recovered his breath, she had her entire body weight on top of him with her knife pressed against his throat, drawing a thin trickle of blood, her hand still wrapped around his sword with a death grip.

“Yield,” Annabeth grit out.

For a few seconds, Percy silently glared up at her, so Annabeth dug her knife further into his skin. With a little more pressure, she would cut his windpipe and kill him. Percy realized this and finally released his sword and held his palms up in surrender.

His voice was low and raspy as he said, “I yield.”

#percabeth fic #percabeth #was a bit too indulgent with the prose on this one #especially with percy's dialogue #i know he doesn't sound like an actual human being #but yolo i think it's fun to write

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thehermitsforest · 4 years ago

Text

The Hermits Forest

Prologue

When he was a child Simon had wanted to be a tailor, he wanted to make the rich wear what he thought was cool instead of their silly frilly capes, and he wanted to start a movement, a movement so strong that pale skins would stop painting themselves purple, back then the slave trade wasn’t even a blip on his radar. To begin a fashion career he needed to be fashionable, that was Simon’s first hurdle, he couldn’t wear purple paint on his skin, not from pride or injustice, but because he was allergic. He swiftly accepted defeat. Creating a device that would let him and other people allergic to paint appear purple, was not a thought that crossed his mind, the only thought that crossed his mind was, what job pays the most, and ideally will let me retire soonest so that I may sit in my wealth and die with no greater purpose? The Spirits Slave trade was one such position, however Simon did not think he was an evil man, nor corrupt or immoral, so he trained himself to steer a horse. He was only a delivery driver.

After all had he not helped to push the spirit into the cage, or saddled up the horses he was sure someone else would, although this thought made sense in Simons head it would seldom hold up in court, after all it does not matter if you know your neighbour Beatrice plans to murder her husband Arnold, if Simon killed Arnold first, then his death would still solely be Simons fault. The spirit trade was a dying trade, not through lack of trying, or customers and money, but lack of spirits. Spirits seldom survived months when captured and could take centuries to rebirth, if ever did.

Simon gripped the horses reins tight. When the horse began to tire Simon would take his whip, and encourage him forth. The horse didn’t like his new job, not only was he carrying Simon, but a fat man called ‘boss’, three spirit hunters, a heavy cart cage made from Airitlium the only the material that could hold spirits, and as if to add insult to injury, inside that cage was Carry. Ancient spirit of the wild horses. Not all wild horses just a small herd to the east that were said to be millennia old and devour humans, although even to the horse’s perception they did not resemble horses anymore, unless perhaps the only knowledge you had of horses was through word of mouth.

“Simon.” Carry the spirit whispered rolling over to the cage edge.

His skin was dark, and he had small black quarter moons spotted across his body, where old horse hide clothing did not cover his skin.

“Yeah?” Simon asked glancing back, eyebrows half raised as though he was dazed.

Carry sat on his knees so that he could be face height with Simon, and he tried for a second to wag his white horse like tail out of view, when that failed he quickly scrambled after it with his hands and hid it behind himself.

“Where are we going friend?”

Simon gave a dramatic roll with his eyes and head, he had only worked for 6 months but whenever there was a spirit in the cage, to the exact letter, this was how conversations began, and they always began with him.

“We’re going to find another spirit or more if the opportunity arrives.”

“Who?”

“According to the kings bounty, there is an evil spirit residing in ‘The Hermit’s Forest’ who does away with anyone travelling through, most spirits that attack humans are normally animal in nature, so I suspect we will pick up a spirit going by the usually imaginative name of Animal.”

“A spirit that has the name of Animal must be mighty strong, do you really think you can capture such a being?” Carry asked with an unfaltering gaze.

“We know other forests had small territorial animal spirits, and we also know that we can catch them, because they are not the spirits, of the animals, that sit at the top of the food chain,” Simon said with an unbearably smug grin “because that would be humans.”

“I w’d’ve thought they were strong.” Carry said.

“Perhaps if they attacked us one on one they would overpower us, or if we had no weapons, but they like to fight, and they like to walk into traps, their greatest weakness is their stupidity, it is almost like they forgot to form a brain.”

“I can’t wait for you to die. I know the animal spirit of ‘The Hermit’s Forest’, she walks though my land at winter.”

“Oh you’ve seen her have you, let me guess, you think because she’s stronger than you, a singular herd of horses, that she’s going to be stronger than humans, but you’re wrong, and I don’t suppose for one moment she’ll have any luck out smarting us.”

“The spirit you seek is Forest.”

Simon rolled his eyes and a gentle smile sat upon his face “you trying to tell me the trees are evil?”

“I do not suppose for one moment Forest is any more evil than any other Forest spirit, from what I understand neither takes too kindly to disrespectful humans, but I do hear Forest looks a bit peculiar and humans have a nasty habit of associating physical form with personality.”

“I don’t believe you. Why would a forest that began as a few trees in the back of a hermits garden be peculiar? He’s new for a forest, and planted by a human, so they should look like any other forest, plain, simple, with no strong thoughts one way or the other except perhaps a minor instinct to protect himself.”

“Suit yourself.” Carry said stopping the conversation and she sat back down in a position that was a little more comfortable.

“Fucks sake” Simon said as he pulled on the reins of the horse who came to a thankful stop, at his action, but his boss looked down with fury in his eyes ready to be unleashed.

“Why have we stopped!”

“They’ve changed gender” Simon said tiredly and gestured to Carry.

“Shit.” The boss said, and Carry looked to Simon surprised at the information.

“I can quite assure you gentlemen that I have not come to any new shocking revelations about my own gender in the past - nigh at least seventy thousand years, and as such declaring I have changed my gender is ludicrous, besides if I wanted to change the physical gender I generate I could not do it for these chains are tighter than a stallions arse.”

“Come on lads!” The boss shouted piling up several more heavy rusting chains into his arms.

“Your form has changed slightly, and you voice is different, slightly higher I think” Simon said to the spirit who seemed generally bewildered.

“That’s it?”

“Simon you idiot, you are not supposed to tell the spirits how to mimic us better” his boss growled red in the face as he revealed his black rotting teeth.

“We don’t change shape” Simon shrugged “if a spirit could work that out I’m sure they would’ve already.”

“He’s got a point boss.” The spirit hunter with a spear laughed, just as he began to hear the sound of a man screaming, and quickly getting closer. The boss frowned and turned towards the empty marsh, in the direction in which the sound was coming from, just in time to see a man several meters away fall from the sky and hit the marshes swampy water making it splash into the air, his screams stopping immediately.

“That’s odd” he said.

“Must’ve been one of the folks from up top” the sword holding hunter said “though I’ve never seen anyone fighting up there.”

“He probably just tripped” the spear holding hunter said “those stupid rich people would prefer their stupid city looks all magical rather than putting up some damn fencing, tripped over a dog a few months ago when I was up there, almost died, fucking rich people.”

“I see. As long as they do not land on us I don’t care” the boss said, and he looked up just in time to get a glimpse of the falling elephant that crushed him, and everyone else within the elephants reach.

End Of Prologue

[ Follow me for updates on Chapter 1 :) ]

#the hermits forest #prologue #original writing #original stories #prologuefull

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gasp-iwrotesomething · 4 years ago

Note

Can I have G 1 and 17 with Vivienne please? Love your work 💕

Aw, thanks so much for the kind words, anon! Glad I could offer you somethings you like! I’d be happy to write this for you; thanks for taking the time to request and I hope you enjoy! ❤

G1: “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re a bit of a moron.”

G17: “I may be small but I can be intimidating. You ever seen a chihuahua? Yeah, same shit. Don’t try me.”

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Vivienne’s facade was working.

She had been tasked with buttering up a businesswoman who had enough artifacts in her home to supply a newly erected museum. MC was the one who was to scope out the premises--explore the terrain of the woman’s home to try and discern where she hid said artifacts. “I have heard such wonderful things about your company, darling,” Vivienne’s rich, sycophant voice blares through the tiny wire attached to MC’s ear, drowning out the silence that flooded the mansion, “you seem to be the epitome of a strong woman, no?” MC could sense her hackles rise as she harks to the businesswoman’s sheepish reply. It was something so shy that it put MC to shame whenever Vivienne touched her--and THAT was a wonder all on its own. Even though MC couldn’t see Vivienne, only hear her through a mirage of crackling static, she could sense the gentle smirk that teased the seductress’ ruby lips--dangerous lips, one that could kill if enough lipstick was lathered on. “Yes, strong women are what this world needs. They have their solicitous charm that just really melts my heart like no other. Do you agree, mademoiselle?” MC ignores the plumes of anger that billow within her and focuses on the businesswoman’s bedroom; uprooting every drawer and hamper and any other potential hiding place for secrets that she could think of checking. But there’s no key or password or even scrap of acknowledgement that the dreaded artifacts exist. MC grows antsy. Over the wire, a barked laugh catches MC’s attention again and she listens to her girlfriend’s indirect charm pour into her ear.

“I feel like your life must be tricky, especially with all of the business you’ve got to go through,” there’s a deliberate pause, one that sparks, electric, as if the wire was malfunctioning--it wasn’t, “you must have men and women alike throwing themselves into your lap, endeavoring to become your little lap dog. It’s a wonder that you haven’t been claimed by anyone so far.” MC’s face reddens with barely restrained frustration, and under her breath, she mutters something bitterly. “Yeah right.” Since there was a microphone clipped to her ear, it picked up the sound and MC hears Vivienne’s quiet ‘tch’ over her own pounding heart. “W-what is something... wrong, Ms. Tang?” The businesswoman inquires with a mountain of overwrought concern and MC fears their cover might’ve been blown. Shit, did I just fuck everything up? But the suave, seductive Vivienne swoops in and swimmingly saves their mission, her voice the same immodest purr it was before the interruption. “No, I’m just a little frustrated with the lack of attention you’ve been given--if I were in charge of it all, I’d have you swamped in all the attention you could wish for.” As if a spell was woven around the clueless, wreck of a businesswoman, she disregards Vivienne’s behavior in exchange for her fooling words. Soon after, MC finds the artifacts and carefully extracts them from their nest of velvet and silk that garnished their hiding place, and scoops them up into her arms. She was in a rotten mood despite her success--Vivienne and her had a lot to talk about when they get home.

The celebration erupted as soon as the Gilded Poppy arrived back at their hideout, and despite the grievance that stuck to her from the heist, MC was able to bask in the joy of accomplishment. Pleased, Nikolai collects the artifacts from MC with a crafty compliment to her before her need to stay relents. Seemingly, as if their minds were linked, Vivienne comes to the same conclusion and whisks into her room--a flash of red in MC’s peripheral vision. The Cuban artist follows the seductress into her room, her jovial grin scrubbed away by a frown. Vivienne makes a beeline for her vanity, snatching up a hairbrush to fix her unusually unruly hair. She doesn’t even notice MC brooding by the door. Frustrated, MC clears her throat. “So... what was that?” MC dives in straight to the point; she wasn’t aiming for any of Vivienne’s evasive language tonight--she just wanted to fizzle the jealousy in the pit of her stomach. It’s jealousy, right? I’m not a certified lunatic, right? Vivienne offers her a baffled smile; a polite offering. “What was what? There’s a lot of that’s I could identify, love, could you be more specific?” She flutters as she drags the brush through her long glossy hair. If MC didn’t know Vivienne like she did, she might’ve mistaken Vivienne’s cluelessness as taunting. But MC could see the genuine confusion in her girl’s face and knew that Vivienne truly had no idea what she was talking about.

“The heist. Your part in it and how you... you...” MC trails off as her pent up resentment amounts in her chest, tangled and hissing. “I’m just going to apologize ahead to time and say sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re a bit of a moron.” The words teem from MC recklessly and she doesn’t regret it until Vivienne’s face first dilates, shocked, before it sours fastidiously. The seductress seemed like she was about to lash out against MC, fangs bared and tail rattling, but then her features are effortlessly combed of any hostility. She simply straightens her spine, sifts the luxurious brush through her black tresses, and casts a sultry smirk over her shoulder. “Degrading, huh? I had known that you were a woman of rogue desires but I didn’t know that there some this vile...” Vivienne keens. The sparkle that haunts her hazelnut eyes reflects off to MC, which prods a flurry of heat to tiptoe up MC’s nape. Don’t let her throw you off-track! Get it together, MC, she’s playing with you! “Vivienne, I’m serious,” MC softly insists, her hands rising to her hips, “you almost sensitized our heist all because you heard me quip over the wire.” The artist examines Vivienne as she places the brush down on her vanity, her hair now the signature gentle wave of pitch lilting down her shoulders that MC was familiar with. Now the disturbed curve to her brow returns and she pivots on her stool. It was evident that she didn’t like MC placing the blame on her.

“Me? Oh darling, it was certainly not just me who nearly flunked the heist. What about the woman who breathed her grievances into my ear, causing me to nearly give away my cover?” Vivienne deflects, her voice more soft than harsh, as she studies MC with imposing eyes. MC meets hers without flinching as she thinks over what Vivienne said--she was right. If there was anyone to blame, it was MC. If she hadn’t lost her cool over meaningless seduction, maybe she wouldn’t be standing here trying to force guilt onto her fairly innocent girlfriend. God, I’m more childish than I thought. Sighing, MC presses the heels of her hands against her eyelids. Then she bursts into a quiet melody of breathless laughter. She couldn’t believe how she had reacted. Vivienne had been in her zone, conducting her magic little spells of seduction until MC had to go and ruffle her feathers. Maybe that was why Vivienne had been so clipped--MC had overreacted to the seductress flirting with the businesswoman by implying that she wanted to be the woman’s lapdog. At that, MC couldn’t stay as mad as she was, only slightly vexed.

Vivienne is caught off guard by MC’s laugh and her eyebrows hike an inch. she looked intrigued and the impatient smudge she had on her face melts away some. “What’s so funny, MC?” The artist shakes her head, her hands cupping her face as she recoups--slowly. “It’s just,” MC streaks her fingers down her face as she sighs, amused and slightly frustrated with herself, “I got mad at you for flirting with a woman who thought having a lapdog was something to get flustered over.”

Like a massage to the tense air, knots unravel and the thickness depletes. It feels like MC could breathe properly again. That is, until Vivienne’s rosy lips camber into a smile so soft and dazzling that her lungs malfunction in her chest. The seductress rises from her vanity and with a swift sweep of her cape, she was in front of MC, her caring arms surrounding MC’s waist. Vivienne was only a couple inches taller than MC, but when her beautifully toned eyes and earnest smile were right there in front of MC to see, she could’ve swore Vivienne was much taller--towering over her like an angel descending the heavens. I don’t care if that’s cliche--it’s more true than it sounds. “I didn’t think of it like that,” she crests her palm against the subtle dip of MC’s back, her hand an anchor to the Cuban artist, “I was so caught up in feeding that woman something she wanted to hear. It was an unintentional ploy, I assure you.” She soothes the remaining tension strung along MC’s spine as she smooths her hand up and down her back, one still secured around the beginning of her hip. In Vivienne’s dapper arms, MC could relax and relinquish any remaining feelings of jealousy. After all, the businesswoman had been much older--in her late 30′s as far as MC knew. There was little chance Vivienne would run into the arms of someone so much older when she could just stay with a woman who was younger. “Yeah, I thought it over some and I figured it as much. As charming as you are, Vivienne, I don’t see you as the type to be someone’s lapdog.”

That sparks a new kind of tension in the air--one that’s heated but silly with the leftover fumes of playfulness lingering around them.

Vivienne’s smile becomes wry as she presses MC closer. “I’m full of surprises, darling,” she purrs, her hot breath ghosting MC’s lips, “maybe if you put the right collar on me, I could be a little more willing to be your lapdog.” The dirty insinuations ring in MC’s head as she becomes scarlet in the face. She quickly averts her eyes from the devilish woman in front of her. Putting a collar on Vivienne... that’s something I’d dream about and know that I’m dreaming about. “Oh really? I always thought I was the lapdog in our dynamic. You know, the tiny spawn of Satan that is more evil than even the biggest, most feared dogs.” MC spins the conversation in another direction to avoid being the lamb for Vivienne to daunt. She keeps her voice teasing--not Vivienne teasing though, or else there was a risk that her dress would be a few shredded scraps on the floor--and playful. Vivienne’s eyebrow lifts and her lips are smirked humorously. “Hm, that description certainly matches you. Small, ready to bark and nip when provoked, able to make people regret underestimating her...” The seductress tapers off impishly, her eyes roving the traits of MC’s face. She ticks them off thoughtfully. Those traits harden into a challenging smirk as the artist pulls away from Vivienne to shoot her a more wide-angle grin. “Hey, I may be small but I can be intimidating. You ever seen a chihuahua? Yeah, same shit. Don’t try me.”

Her dry remark reels a laugh out of Vivienne, who sidles closer again to mockingly stroke her fingers across MC’s head. “Aw, you sweet little thing, you wouldn’t hurt a fly!” She derides a coo as she gently pets MC, who wriggles away from her hand and pretends to nip at Vivienne’s hand. Almost as if they were in a play, Vivienne’s expression takes on a scolding shadow, though her smirk remains. “Bad girl!” She chastises through a laugh, her eyes crinkling with a smile that soaks her face in glee. At the sight, MC reciprocates it like it was contagious; because it was. But then she burns up as she thinks over Vivienne’s words. Bad girl... Just like before, the seductress’ sultry implicit replies makes MC blush more than it should.

And MC wishes Vivienne’s effect wasn’t so prevalent on her--kind of.

I don’t mind it most of the time but right now? I could do with a little more headspace that isn’t hijacked by Vivienne’s lewdness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks again for your request! I loved writing this for you!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

#vivienne tang #queen of thieves

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reckoningss · 6 years ago

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Sickday ❤️

Summary: Staying home sick wasn’t a part of your Valentine’s Day. Lucky for you, Eddie & Co. come around to look after you.

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Killing Eve Spoilers? (Not really)

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N: I’m feeling all lovey-dovey and shit so I’m gonna try to put out a few Valentine-themed fics before the big day, starting with this one. Feedback is always welcome.

It takes about a minute for your brain to spur your aching joints and muscles into action after the first knock. Finally managing to pry yourself off of the couch, you hobble to the door - the hem of your comforter dragging the floor behind you like a train. Both deadbolts slide free with a heavy thock and then the gentle click of the mortice lock and you open the door to reveal a sight for sore eyes.

Eddie stands in your doorway sporting sweatpants slung low around his hips and that familiar beige hoodie beneath a leather jacket. Two plastic bags dangle from one hooked index finger while a backpack swings from the other and a sheepish smile ties the whole display together, complete with sleepy eyes and damp black hair.

You have to admit, your heart melts a bit.

“Hey.”

You sniffle, trying for a smile. “Hey.”

Eddie looks you over and, if you had the energy for shame, you’d probably be burning up with it. Beneath the king-sized comforter you are currently wearing like a cape, you’re in a stained, oversized Morehouse tee - three days old - and scandalously short pajama bottoms. Holed fuzzy socks adorn your feet, a three-day-old twistout adorns your head and a rolled up scrap of tissue hangs from one runny nostril. Fortunately (unfortunately?) you feel too terrible to care much about your appearance.

Eddie finishes his silent assessment of you. shoulders his backpack and sucks his teeth sympathetically. “Oi.”

You laugh pitifully, pulling him into the apartment by the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Just know that however bad I look right now, I feel ten times worse.”

Eddie kicks the door shut and pulls you in for a hug. “Ohhhhh.” You nestle your forehead into the curve of his neck and let him walk you back through the entrance hallway and into the living room - half carrying you. He sits you on the couch. “That’s why I brought some wellness essentials.”

The living room doesn’t look much better than you do. The couch is a nest of blankets beside which sits a small trashcan brimming with used tissues and microwavable soup cups. The ottoman is scattered with prescription bottles and the empty husks of over the counter medicine capsules. Other household detritus litters the hardwood floor. You remove the tissue from your nose and deposit it into the trashcan, sniffing loudly. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Eddie exaggerates a look of revulsion before continuing. He digs into the first bag and pulls out a small box. “Mentholatum from that bodega across the street from my apartment.” He returns back to the bag and produces a tall styrofoam takeout bowl. condensation gathering on the plastic lid. “Chicken ramen from that place on Fillmore. Cough drops, more tissue, spa socks and ....”

He digs into the backpack now with an air of importance. “Last but not least, Killing Eve.”

The cellophane wrapping still glints on the DVD case - brand new. You gesture to the TV where SportsCenter is muted. “You know we could just watch that on Hulu, right?”

Eddie shakes his head, holding the Season one set like a holy artifact. “Some things are worth owning. Tangibly.”

You nod in agreement. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Eddie stands from the couch and leans over to kiss your forehead. “I’m going to throw this ramen in a pot to heat up. Wanna queue that up?”

You nod as Eddie leaves the room, taking the trashcan with him.

You hum contentedly while Eddie gently rubs menthol into your back. His hands are warm. You’re desperately fighting the desire to fall asleep. Eddie presses a thumb into a tense knot near your spine and you nearly groan from the relief. On the screen, Eve Polastri interrogates a hysteric woman.

“Thanks for coming over.” Your voice is simultaneously nasal and sleepy. “I know you wanted to go do stuff today.”

Eddie leans forward and kisses your cotton-covered shoulder murmuring something incomprehensible and then, quietly, “just wanna do you.”

“Oh?” You crane your neck to look back at him, eyebrows raised.

Eddie blushes - wide-eyed - and stumbles over his words. “This. I just wanted to do this - spend time with you.”

You laugh but quickly dissolve into a coughing fit that doubles you over.

Eddie withdraws his hand from beneath your shirt and grabs your shoulders. “You alright?”

You nod - coughs already beginning to dwindle - and take a few deep breaths. Through the open mouth of Eddie’s backpack, you see something red glimmer.

“What’s that?” You’re already hauling the thing out into the low light. A red, heart-shaped box rests in your hands. ‘Be Mine’ is scrawled on the lid in golden, printed calligraphy. You hug the box to your chest and grin back at Eddie. “Is this for me?”

Eddie nods and leans back to sling his arm over the back of the couch, looking very pleased with himself. A hand goes over his stubbled chin. “Yeah. Happy Valentine’s day.”

“You open the lid to reveal two dozen artisanal chocolates smiling up at you from between crepe paper sleeves. “Thank you. It’s really sweet.”

You think about sampling one but your stomach roils a bit at the thought of eating something so sweet. You hold the box out toward Eddie. “Happy Valentine’s day, Venom, from the bottom of my heart.”

Eddie chuckles and Venom finally makes an appearance. Strings of globulous black matter bubble up between the stitches of Eddie’s hoodie and grow into a distinctly inhuman head over Eddie’s left shoulder - long and cylindrical, oblong eyes completely white, wide grinning mouth replete with rows of yellow teeth. You stifle a shudder and smile instead, you still haven’t gotten completely used to this part.

“Hi.”

Venom observes you, twisting his snake-like head and stretching closer. “Hello.”

You hold up the box of chocolates. “I got you something.”

Behind Venom, Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically. You just shoot him a shit-eating grin. Venom’s tongue slithers out of his mouth - the length of your forearm and dripping - and you very nearly drop the box. You’ve been making an effort to befriend the otherworldly being your boyfriend shares a body with - you really have - and you’ve made some progress too, but that doesn’t make it any less weird or unnerving. Venom selects a piece of chocolate with his tongue and flicks it into his cavernous mouth.

“Good?”

“MMMM” Venom’s voice is like gravel in a washing machine. You set the chocolates down on the ottoman and let him have at it.

Four episodes later, you’re spooning broth out of your bowl of ramen while Eddie picks out chicken and clumps of noodles with lightsaber chopsticks. Venom, having finished the chocolates three episodes back, is now content to look around your apartment and float silently over Eddie’s shoulder.

You yawn. “Thanks for taking care of me today.”

Eddie shrugs. “That’s what I’m built for.” He holds up his hand and clicks the tips of the chopsticks together - Obi-Wan And Darth Vader clashing weapons. “These hands? Made to take care of you.”

You snort. “Oh yeah?”

Eddie places the bowl of ramen on the side-table at the end of your couch. “Hell yeah.” He scoops you up and drags you into his lap, burying his face in your neck as he tickles you.

You squeal and push him away. “Stop! I’m sick and gross.”

Eddie cradles the back of your head and looks down at you. “You know what?” His voice takes on a whispered, conspiratorial tone. “That’s why I have this thing that keeps me from getting sick and makes me, like, super fast and strong an-”

You whisper too. “Sounds rad. Can I get some of that?”

Eddie’s leaning in again, eyes on your lips. “I’ll have to talk to my guy.”

“Ohhhh, your guy.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie moves to close the gap but you flinch back, cringing.

“Sorry, I just can’t with him watching.” You incline your head to the right in response to Eddie’s quizzical look. Venom hovers off to the side, staring impassively, expression unreadable.

Eddie blinks at the alien, unimpressed. “Bye Venom.”

Venom narrows his eyes - first at Eddie, then at you. Your hands fist possessively in the front of Eddie’s hoodie.

“I gave you chocolate, now give me my boyfriend.”

Venom’s tongue flicks one more time - for your benefit, you think - before he disappears back into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie chuckles at something you can’t hear and tisks at you. “You’re making him rethink liking you.”

A playful grin and an “I’ll make it up to him,” are your only response.

Eddie’s eyes are on your lips again and he presses in to brush his nose against yours. “Now where were we...”

It’s starting to drizzle outside. Eddie strokes your cheek as you lie with your head in his lap. You yawn and snuggle closer. Pausing, Eddie looks down at you and tucks a curl behind your ear.

“Tired?”

You yawn again. “Mhm.”

“Gonna take a nap?”

“Most likely.”

“Ok.” Eddie reaches for the throw hanging in the back of the couch and drapes it over you. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You catch one final glimpse of Eve staring intently at a picture of the assassin as your eyes flutter closed. “Hmm... you know they’re in love.”

“Eddie resumes running his thumb carefully along your cheek. “Who, us?”

“Eve and Villanelle.” You’re drifting now. “Us too.”

Tagging: @kingniazx

#Venom #Eddie Brock #Eddie Brock x Reader #Venom x reader #Venom fic #Eddie Brock fic #Eddie Brock x Reader fluff #marvel fluff #Eddie Brock Imagine #Venom Imagine #Marvel #MCU #Symbiote #SFW #Eddie Brock x you #Venom x you #Avengers fic #My writing

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redknight3996 · 5 years ago

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The Demon Lord’s Generals 6

Chapter 6 - The Ice Dragon

Seth was bored.

He was usually bored. Life was boring.

His breath misted into the air as he sighed. Which was different from usual. It was summer, so the sun was actually out. Even then, it couldn’t overwhelm his home country’s natural cold, but it made it warmer. Though it was probably the fires causing that.

Fuck, he was bored…The screams, the blood, the panic...it all lost its appeal a long time ago. It was funny, in a way. He’d probably have more fun laying on a roof and staring up at the sky. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe the dull throbbing in his head would stay there. He’d need to make a hole for his tail too, at the very least. Might as well lay on his front then. But then he couldn’t look at the sky, now could he? Logic. Brilliance.

The sun was warm on his bare chest, glinting off his scales like light on ice. His dark red feathers clung to his scalp, matted down with the heat wafting off the nearby houses. There was an enraged scream and some idiot charged him with a cleaver, so he backhanded his fellow icedrake off her feet, cracking teeth with the flat of his round shield. She spilled into the snow, landing hard as more dipshits ran and screamed, fleeing burning homes and running out into the snow, rushing to flee the cackling assholes Seth surrounded himself with. Whips snapped in the air, steel flashed in the light, houses erupted as alchemical bombs were chucked inside.

He was so fucking bored.

“C’MON OUT HARVALD!” Ah, Amato was talking. Dumbass was standing on a roof, shouting out towards the biggest house in the town. “SHOULDA PAID UP WHEN YOU COULD! YOU KNOW WHAT A PROTECTION FEE MEANS!”

Fucker was loud. Brayed at the slightest provoking. Made him a decent spokesman, but fuck if it wasn’t annoying.

Seth scowled as he walked towards the manor, gripping at his metal club. Some of the hapless dipshits were running for the manor too, trying to get inside the safest place they could find. That was part of the plan. The cavalry burns the houses, lighting them with the blue flames that could last even in the coldest chunks of Brunza, and then all the panicking townsfolk go running for the nearest safe places, including the walled off manor in the center of town belonging to their local lord.

Course, Harvald Gylling was a piece of shit, so the gates were blocked as desperate dipshits banged on them. Whatever, was a shit plan.

“Outta my way,” Seth grunted as he stomped to the gate, letting the sound fade out as more and more dipshits screamed in panic and ran out of his way, clutching tykes and pets and whatever else they thought was valuable enough to protect.

His steel-toed boot smashed through the gates, sending them crashing off their hinges. There was a cheer from the assholes and they started riding after him, like they hadn’t noticed the wall of shields in front of the manor, nor the shit lord standing up on his top balcony, glaring down at him.

Harvald was an ass. There was no question of it. Dressed in black furs despite being a rabbit, had a ponytail, little fucking mustache, deep sneer on his pink lips, asshole all around. “Hnph. Coldblood. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Big front teeth too, part of being a rabbit.

“You missed pay, fuckface. Lotta missed pay.”

“THAT’S RIGHT, HARVALD!” Ugh, Amato was beside him now. How the fuck did the wily freak get that fast? He said he was pure human, but the pale-blue hair said cambion. “YOU FUCK WITH US, WE FUCK YOU BACK!”

“Are the troops grabbing the grain and meat?” Seth asked, glancing down at the shorter fucker.

“EH? Oh, uh, yeah boss, getting all that.”

“Good. We got what we wanted, asshole. Could’ve made this a lot easier for all of us.”

Harvald sneered again. “Please, as though I’d capitulate to bandits!” He capitulated plenty for the past year. Was one of the first town-lords to do so, so long as Seth’s band sold their loot in his town and kept him safe from other bands. Then he stopped his protection fee, which brought them all to this moment. “You may burn my town and take the lives of my citizens, but I will always rebuild and regain! So take what pathetic tribute you demand, but know it shall be the last you ever get from me!”

Dramatic fuck. “That’s not how this works. You cheated us. Now we take interest.”

There was more yelling. Lotta “yeah that’s right” and shit from the assholes. Axel and Britt weren’t in the group yet. Probably still directing shit.

“HA! Then come and take it, pathetic wretches! But be warned–Eep!” Harvald ducked a thrown rock, earning laughter and jeers from the assholes. He glared straight down at them, his face turning red. “LOTHUL! KILL THIS RABBLE!”

Seth raised a white eyebrow, then glanced at the big fucker striding out of the house. Real big fucker. Maybe orc, though it was hard to tell with the pitch-black armor he was wearing.

“TREMBLE, WORMS!” Harvald continued, hiding behind his balcony’s railing, “FOR YOU FACE LOTHUL BLACK-BLADE, FORMER GENERAL OF THE DEMON LORD ORAST!”

Seth paused. “General…” General meant strong. Demon Lord’s General meant real strong. He stepped ahead of the assholes, not grinning yet. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for a moment, he thought the big fucker in front of him, clad in full armor, holding a huge broadsword and kite shield, wearing a furry cape, could’ve been a genuine badass.

He shouldn’t’ve.

It was less than a minute later that Seth lifted his bloody club off the wreck of metal lying at his feet. He scowled at the softly groaning pulp, then glared straight at Harvald, who flinched back with a frightened squeak. “Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck your town, fuck this piece of shit.”

He turned his glare at the guards in front of him. More rabbits, most flinching when they saw the murder in his eyes. He drew his hand down his club, gathering blood, and slicked his feathers back, already bored again. “You disappointed me. That means you gotta pay me back.”

“...W-We won’t bow to-” The lead guard squeaked as Seth chucked Lothul over her head, smashing the dumbass through the front doors. “WE’LL BOW WE’LL BOW!”

“I don’t give a shit about bowing. Over by the wall, out of the way, drop everything of value on you. Shields and spears, drop here.” Seth turned his glare up to Harvald, who whimpered, clutching his railing like it would protect him as his guards threw down their useless weapons. “Your manor is mine now.”

“W-What?! I won’t-!”

“Either run, or get thrown. Either one.”

“Gh-! Y-You damned-!”

He got thrown.

Seth pitched the squealing noble over the town’s wall himself and passed his furry coat off to Amato while the band of assholes jeered at the guards, poking and prodding them as they shoved them outta the town too, most stripped down to their skivvies. Seth did say they should drop anything of value, and clothes had value.

So did manors and the things inside them, so they hooked up the manor to a few aurochs and ripped the damn thing from the foundations. Took some whacking at the right points, but it came easy. Broke a bit, but eh. Materials were materials, and most of the town was charred.

All in all, a successful raid.

But Seth was still bored.

-------------------------------

There were three types of bandits in the world, by Seth’s reckoning. Not divided by skills or species or any shit like that, but by how they thought. By whatever fucked morals they had.

First type were the ones that thought they were good. Pieces of shit that were sure they, in some fucked way, were doing a good thing by robbing and murdering. They were the type to have “rules”, things they said they wouldn’t do no matter what. Standards. Lies. Most drank, most smoked, smothering that voice they called “conscience”. They explained things a lot, said it was fine because they were robbing the rich until they weren’t, then it was fine because the dipshits needed to know the world was cruel and selfish and dogs eat dogs and drakes eat drakes and then they’d flinch if you said “then eat this finger”.

Second type were the ones who thought good was shit and so was evil. They were proud, said they were above that. Said things like “might makes right”, not to say they were good but that good was stupid. They talked big, said the world owed them. Explain they were just taking what was theirs, shout loudest and jeer as they ripped the pearls from a necklace, then choke when a knife they didn’t see went in their neck. They focused on themselves, focused hard on what they wanted, and died. Amato was this type. He lasted a while, good enough to keep around. Most weren’t. Most mouthed off. He stopped keeping notches for them.

Third type were the ones who knew they were evil. They knew they were pieces of shit. They knew there was no world that said what they did was good. They knew, and they did it anyway, because there were people like that. The type who knew they were shit from the start, and embraced that. That there was good in the world, and they weren’t that.

Stupid shits liked to say the first type were the worst. They said people who thought they were doing good did the worst shit, thinking they were helping. That was stupid. They were bad, that was true, but the third type knew they were evil. First type had points that they wouldn’t cross, hypocrites they were. Third type though, they knew they were evil. So what was off limits? If a man was evil, then he could commit any evil.

The evil fuck’s brains squelched as Seth lifted his foot. He scuffed it into the snow, brushing it away, then shrugged and headed back to camp. The newer assholes stared at him as he walked through, some wondering if they’d be next. Some might.

He went to the table, grabbed some booze, and looked over at the bonfire. “...”

He took a deep swig, staring into the flames, then chucked the rest in, sending the blue roaring up higher, flashing green for a moment. Some flinched back, then Axel started laughing, and said some shit about how no one should brag around him. That Seth didn’t like loud shit.

“I don’t mind loud shit. I do mind shit-talking.”

He laughed, reassured him that he knew that. His grin was easy as ever. It never reached his black eyes.

Britt added something, made a few assholes laugh nervously, and things started again. The manor was resting by their camp, still there. Furniture was being divvied. Amato led that. Amato led lotta shit. Seth was the boss though. That’s what they called him.

Axel the icedrake got into the walls and lowered the gates. Britt the ghoul burned the town, led the cavalry, took charge of the camp. Amato the “human” set tasks, decided loot. But Seth led them.

What a joke.

He scratched at the scales on his neck, still staring at the fire. It danced.

It danced past the point everyone slept.

It danced when they woke.

It danced when Seth pissed in it, so he left it burning. If it wanted to burn, it could do that. They were moving though.

They always moved. Brunza was mountains, icy and frozen, a frost covering bronze land. Someone made them, he heard. Old story, back when he lived in a town. Most bandits lived in a town at some point. They left, wanting more, hating people, wanting strength, being bored out of their fucking skull. Some were born in bandit “tribes” though. They were fucked from the start. Fucked on fucked. That was life.

Life was moving. Keeping in one location meant being found. Burning a town meant people would want to find them. The manor would work better for them now. A moving base. Something they could use.

Seth took point, as always. He was the leader. He sat on a snowsteed. Some called them hrimfaxi, some called them hyoju, snowsteed was simple. Icy things, like horses, made of ice, shaped liked horses, pointed faces and pointed feet meaning they weren’t. Six eyed, along their face. Blue, like his. Easy to break.

They were going up a path in the snow, along a mountain. Looking for a place to settle while they planned the next place to rob. There were decent places. Maybe he’d have something to kill when he reached there.

The snow wasn’t falling. There was nothing to block his vision on the way up. The sun was shining. So how the fuck did he miss the woman walking towards them?

Not walking, exactly. Stumbling, more like.

Axel laughed beside him, riding close to get a better look. Asked if Seth saw the same thing.

“Yeah. Back up. I’m checking this.”

Another laugh, a “whatever you say”. A half-forgotten “boss” added at the end.

Seth let it slide. He did that with Axel. He wanted the fucker to keep testing him. He wanted to see if he’d try to kill him. That possibility made him interesting. If he stopped, if he kowtowed, then he wouldn’t be shit.

That didn’t matter though. There was something new catching his attention, so he urged his steed forward, towards the woman. The tall woman. She was nearly as tall as him on the steed. She was taller when he jumped down and walked closer.

“‘M not sorry, ‘m not, fuck aw-*hic*-off, f-fuckin’...dammit momma, couldn’t just be born right, gotta…gotta fix, build, but can’t, cos...cos, cuz, caw...” the woman mumbled, pressing a hand over her eyes. The other clutched a large, white bottle. She had hair. It was long and white and...for the briefest moment, it seemed to flicker. Something with the light? It was stringy and limp, hanging loose. “...the fuck’re you?”

She noticed him. “Seth. You?”

“...” She dropped her hand and tilted her head, her hair falling away from her face. She looked normal. Mostly normal. She had blue eyes and a pale face flushed purple. Specks of blue traced across it. That made Seth think she wasn’t human. Goliath, maybe. They were supposed to be giant. “...Do I needa name? You don’t care. No one cares, everyone knows, ‘s how it iz…”

“I don’t know. I do care.”

“Not bout me. Yerself, sure, yeah...not me though, ken seen it.” She sniffed, then rubbed a poofy sleeve across her nose. Her blue dress was sky-blue on top and darkened when it got to her skirts. It looked fancy and tattered, laced with pearls and covered in small tears.

“Tell me your name,” he repeated.

She sneered. “Fuck that. Ugh, you want sumthin’, call me...Eko? Ko...Kol, sure, yeah, Kol’sh fine. Kol, fuck it, why do you care?”

What a stupid name. “Why’s a goliath wandering Brunzaba?”

“Goliath...hueh...dumbass.” She suddenly swigged her drink, her throat visibly moving as she gulped down her drink. When she stopped, her breath came out hot and she hiccuped, wine dripping down on her boobs. She was a mess.

She was a mess with a necklace of sapphires–five of them, shaped like teardrops–and a dress woven with pearls. She had rings on her fingers too, with more sapphires. “Why are you wandering out in the snow, lady?”

“Hnff…’m a lady now? Guess I am…I wander where I want, got it? I walk, I talk, I...nalk, shmalk, falk, balk at the bounties and beauties blaggard…” She closed her eyes, one after the other, and opened them again. “Wouchu get outta way? ‘M walken…”

“Yo boss! What’s the hold up? This bitch causing trouble?”

“Fuck off Amato,” Seth muttered, staring at the woman. Kol. Stupid name, stupid drunk. Rich drunk though, judging by the jewels. “You’re walking down this path. We’re going up this path. Think that means we’re at an impasse.”

She blinked stupidly at him. “...Impasse? Why? Move.”

“No.”

She frowned. “I said to move.”

Kol. A giant of a woman, wandering a snow-covered mountain in noble clothes. There was a power there. An implication. “No.”

Kol growled, pushing up her hair and scratching at her head with her free hand. “The fuck do you want?”

Coherent. Was she sobering? He almost laughed. “Your necklace, your dress, everything. You can keep your booze. Call it consolation for the toll.”

“...Are you fucking stupid?”

He nearly smiled. She was getting angry. He wanted that. There was something here, something big, and he wanted to know what. This was interesting. “I’m not a noble bitch wandering the country in silk and lace. You have valuables. I have sixty assholes behind me. Y-”

She snorted. She actually snorted at him, and giggled, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Pffffff, s-seriously?? That’s-You seriously said-Fuck, momma, what the fuck type of moron did I just meet??”

His eye twitched. “Bandits. I have sixty bandits. Maybe more–”

“I mean you weren’t wrong, I imagine most of ‘em have assholes, so you weren’t wrong!” She giggled again–

There was a crack as she backhanded him.

Seth blinked stars from his eyes, his feet moving to balance–Then he was spitting vomit into the snow and clutching his stomach, not even feeling the fist that left a fucking dent–His head snapped back, blood spraying from his mouth as she kneed him straight in the face.

“BOSS!” There were screams behind him, and he snarled back at them, throwing his hand back to keep the assho-the fuckers from interfering in his fight.

Kol licked her lips. She had a blue tongue. Seth roared, ripping his club from the straps on his steed and–She caught it. With her pinky.

Kol was smiling as his club flash-froze in his hand. “Is this everything you wanted?”

Seth stared at her, then grinned right back as he felt genuine excitement for the first time in ages–

His club exploded, sending shards of ice and iron–

He choked as her fist slammed straight into his slit nostrils, breaking something–

He screamed when his arm was snapped straight in half at the elbow, his forearm hanging limp–

Second snap, second arm limp–

She had two arms but a thousand fists were hitting him at once, sending his body jerking with each brutal impact–

Seth was on the ground, and he couldn’t make a noise as she stomped on his head. He could see everyone in his camp staring in shock. They were making sounds he couldn’t hear. Blood was leaking from his nose, his mouth, his eyes, his ears, his body was broken and a bare foot was holding him down. Then a chunk of frozen iron landed by his head, finally dropping.

“Now what will they do? You, their leader, have lost. What will they do?” Kol’s voice came, pounding in his head, past all the hollow ringing. He couldn’t hear any of them, but she came through clearly.

And he saw Amato stepping forward, shouting with his sword drawn. He saw Axel cracking his whip. He saw Britt with an axe in hand. He saw his...his...all of them, with weapons drawn, shouting, making demands. Not leaving.

“Oh.” Was that surprise? “Honor among dregs then. You gave these people hope, didn’t you?” What? “The worst of the world, utter garbage, and you gave them a place. One where death could come at any time, where they killed and stole to live, a world of violence, but one they could stand. One they felt some belonging in. Is that it?”

Bullshit. It wasn’t. They were all...bandits didn’t give a shit about each other, if it came down to it, they’d abandon-

“But they’re not abandoning you, are they?”

He looked up at her. She wasn’t...she wasn’t a goliath. Her foot was scaled, but not like a drake, more like a fish. She didn’t have feathers. Her white hair wasn’t hair. It was tentacles. Thick and ice-blue, curling down her head and across her shoulders. She looked down at him, and the whites of her eyes were black and the rest was pure ice, darkest at the center.

“Getting poetic? Or maybe you recognize something. Who knows?” She had horns. “I do have horns, yes. Have you figured it out yet? Do you know what I am?”

He did.

“Think it.”

Leviathan.

“Good. Now watch me murder your only friends.”

His eye went wide as she raised a hand and pointed at his troops–

“Your friends. The ones you led to their deaths. Remember that.”

There was noise again, and he looked to see the idiots, the damned idiots, all charging, arrows flying and steeds going as fast as they could in such a short distance that there was no way she could possibly–

…

Seth felt tears gather. He thought they’d dried ages ago.

The path was barren. That was wrong. The path was full. Full of debris. Frozen flesh raining on broken weapons and legs planted in place, standing on their own.

The mansion still stood. It was the only thing standing. That was wrong. Legs stood.

The mansion was intact though. What kind of shit was that?

“Life.”

He snarled, glaring up at her as much as he could. What made it worse was how little she cared.

“Heh. You’re right about that. This is typical for me. You get strong enough, and the people beneath you are just so much garbage.”

FUCK YOU!

“Oh? My, you hit an odd point there.” She–the bitch–stroked her chin. “You have potential. Or you would, if you weren’t bleeding out in the snow. Isn’t that just life though? You have something in you, but you won’t ever reach it. You’ll die out here, in the cold you can’t even feel, oh frosted lizard. But I could make you feel it.”

He went stiff. His face was burning where her foot touched. It was burning–

He screamed in pain. It burned wrong, it wasn’t anything like fire, it felt unnatural, felt alien, felt–

“It feels cold. That is cold. Die feeling it.”

She was gone. He was alone. Alone in the snow, his face burning. Unable to move. Dying.

What kind of shit was that?

He couldn’t move his fingers to dig into the snow. His legs wouldn’t listen to him. His tail laid limp. He could feel his chest though. He could feel things below his neck. His neck wasn’t broken. His body was, but he could feel it.

He swallowed blood. He swallowed blood and bile and started to growl. His eye moved, furiously glaring at the remains of those people who called him their leader. The people he had failed. He wouldn’t claim they were friends. He couldn’t speak to their feelings towards him, and he knew he didn’t care for them.

And yet, they had tried to save him. And yet, they died for him. And yet, he was furious.

His bones snapped as his hand slammed into the ground. His breath was coming heavy and cold, his eyes burning. Cracks echoed through the night as he stood. Blood leaked, dried, and dyed his scales red and brown. For the first time in his life, he felt the cold.

And Seth walked.

Not down, but up. He was going up. It was only right.

He chose this way. He would see it through.

Daylight rose when he saw the walls. It was cloudless again. What absolute shit.

He dropped.

And woke in a bed, blanketed in furs.

Trying to move his body only caused pain to shoot through it again, but he refused to let himself stop. Seth tossed the furs off and grabbed the edge of the bed, then found himself crashing to the floor as he tried to stand up.

“Wha-? Oh gods, what’re you doing?” There was a voice. It sounded disappointed, and then he was going back up as a pair of shockingly strong hands lifted and laid him back in the bed. “Do you even realize how broken your bones are? Course you don’t, else you wouldn’t be trying to get up.”

Seth snarled and glared at-...That was a bugbear. Huh.

The furry, bearded goblin raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “You gonna be difficult about this?”

“...” He had no idea what to say here. "...who are you?"

"I'm the bugbear who saved your life. Now, are you going to try and crawl outta here and make all my work go to waste?" Growling, Seth looked away, letting the bugbear do as he pleased.

"Good, now stay still, I need to change your bandages." Walking over, the bugbear began to remove Seth’s bandages, revealing the still very fresh scarring that bitch had left on his scales. "Gotta say, you're lucky we found you. A run of the mill healer wouldn't have been able to help you."

He didn’t turn to look. Still. "...How did you do it then?"

"Heh, ol secret recipe. Fraid I can't share it though, you wouldn't exactly be able to make it if I did."

"...What does that mean?" A laugh was the only response he received. In a way, he was too pissed off at everything else to get angry at that.

“Gods be good though, you really took a bad beating, youngster. What in the world did you run into out there?”

“A leviathan.”

The bugbear’s hands paused. “...Yeah, that would do it then. I’d ask how you ran into a leviathan on a mountain, but that’s the sort of thing no one ever has a good answer to.”

Seth grunted and the hands went back to work at...whatever he was doing. He wasn’t going to look.

“Don’t mistake me, I am curious, but a child of Fathom wandering our snowy mountains isn’t the oddest thing I’ve ever heard. Swear I have a book of legends on the race around here somewhere though, now that I’m thinking about it...bah, never mind that, we should be focusing on you and how much rest you’re going to need.”

“I don’t need rest.”

“Try to remember you’re talking to the person who fixed you up. I know how bad you look, and you know how bad you feel. This sort of damage is the type of thing you walk off.” He suddenly chuckled. “Honestly, it isn’t the sort of thing you should’ve lived through. It’s an honest miracle you managed to keep your heart beating, much less walking however far you came from.”

“Nh.”

“Was that you replying, or you grunting?”

“...” Why did it feel like when he was little again, getting chided by his grandpa for breaking windows? “Grunting.”

“Well I won’t stop you if you want to grunt, but you won’t make for a good conversation partner if that’s your only response. Unless you’d rather be left alone?”

“...no.” He hated how small his voice sounded there, so much so he nearly took it back-

“My name’s Arnulf. Most people call me Arnie, because apparently two syllable names are too long for them. Or maybe they just don’t like the ‘f’ sound, considering it’s still two syllables.”

“...Seth.”

“Hm, good name that, strong name. Was it given?”

“...Yeah. Was yours?”

“Yup! Given by my pa when I was born, and his name was Arnold, and his father’s name was Arnaught. Arnbjorn is our family name, and it seemed some fool along the line thought it should be tradition for us all to be Arns.”

“Huh.” Seth shifted as he felt a cool cloth press to his chest. He looked, watching as the healer continued his work. Some sort of...there was a word for it. He didn’t know the word. Cloth, with plant stuff. “...My grandfather said my mother named me. My father wasn’t there for it.”

“Mm. There a story you want to tell?”

Seth shrugged. “Not much of one. Grandfather never said anything about him. Mother didn’t either, while she was around. She died. Not even anything big, just a piece of cliff falling at the wrong time. Maybe she wanted to. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry. That’s a rough thing to go through. I buried both my parents some time ago.”

Seth blinked. “...Ah...alive?”

Arnulf snorted. “Nah, they were dead. We did check, don’t worry about that. Ma died first, just from age, and Pa went about a week after. I think losing her just wasn’t something he could handle.”

“That can happen?”

“Death from sadness? Yeah, it happens plenty of times. You live your life with someone long enough, they leave an impression, don’t they?”

“...Yeah.” Seth laid back, staring at the ceiling. It was wood. Lanterns hung. Smaller than he was used to. “...how long does it take? Impressions?”

“Not sure. I imagine it depends on the person. You’re making a real impression so far, so hey.”

“...What would you feel if I died?”

“Hmm...I think frustrated, first. I did put a lot into keeping you alive, so that would hurt. Sad, sure. Young people shouldn’t die. That’s something for old folks.”

“...Who do you think I am?”

“Hm?”

Seth didn’t say a thing. He wanted to hear his answer. It was strange. He wasn’t feeling bored.

Arnbjorn waited too, then continued speaking when he said nothing. “Judging from how you arrived here, what you looked like when you did, the clothes you were, all of that, I’ll guess a bandit. That is what most people have been saying here.”

“Most people?”

“You did drop right outside the walls. People found you and brought you in, though there are plenty wondering if that’s such a good idea.”

“That’s smart of them. I’m a shit person.”

“Really? And here I thought you were just bad at conversation. Then again, you turned out to be real talkative, so maybe I’m just a bad judge here.”

“You are.”

Arnbjorn snorted, this time amused. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Call me soft, but I don’t like seeing people die, even if they come in caked in dried blood.”

“Most of it is mine.”

“See, you say that like it’s reassuring, but that’s not a good thing for a doctor to hear, though you do make a fantastic case study for the apparent life-giving properties of sheer determination to live.”

“It was more anger. Lots of anger.” The throbbing was back. Seth grit his teeth and sat up–Seth nearly broke his teeth gritting them as his whole chest spasmed with pain–

“Ah-Hold on, stay still, you’re still not doing well here!” Arn’s firm, furry hands held Seth down, earning a scowl that was returned with one baring the bugbear’s own sharp teeth. “Yeah yeah, you’re real scary, but you’re also a damn fool if you think I’m letting you up in your condition! Now lay down or I’m strapping you down!”

"...That wouldn't hold me down."

"You'd be surprised at how hard that'd be if I sedated you as well."

"...Nh." Grunting once again, Seth laid down.

"Good, now then, I hope you're ready for Bugbear delicacies, cause you're gonna have to get used to it while you're here."

-------------------------------------------------------

It was warm. And tasted like shit, But…it was filling.

Such was bugbear food. Apparently goblinoids in general don't care much for taste, at least according to Arn. Not like Seth had much of a place to argue. Most of the stuff he ate after becoming a bandit was just burnt over an open fire.

Either way, Seth didn't turn down any of the food he was given. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he owed Arn. Something he was hoping to pay back as soon as possible.

"Hey, I never asked you, you got any family?"

As soon as he was able to leave Arn's house, anyways.

“I did say some stuff.”

“Once, sure. You lived with your gramps and your ma, yeah? Anybody else, still around?”

He thought about it as he ate the thick soup. “...I got an uncle. And an aunt. Two other aunts. They lived around, same village. Cousins too.”

Arn nodded, taking a moment to drink his tea. Tea and fabas, food of the mountains. Plateaus. Whatever. “Do you want me to try getting in touch with them? We do have a decent post here.”

Seth unconsciously winced. Last time a group he was with tried robbing a courier, it didn’t go well. Ghouls came back from a lot, didn’t mind the cold, and were relentless when it came to vengeance. Not even fun to go against. Just vicious. “No. That wouldn’t go well.”

“Fair enough, thought I’d ask. Sorry if I drudged up anything bad.”

“You didn’t. You apologize easy.”

“Do I? Probably. I don’t like causing harm, so I try to avoid it. Makes me a bad hunter, but a decent healer, and everyone needs one of those at some time or another.”

“Right.” ...Now that he thought about it, his old group never had a healer. Probably wouldn't have changed shit if they did, but it probably would have helped at other times.

"You know, if you want, you can go hunting with some of the others, to help you get back on-" Before his suggestion could finish coming out, a loud crash from outside cut him off. "Ah, shit, someone probably dropped something, give me a moment, I'll be right back."

“Sure.” Seth watched Arn leave, then settled back in bed. It was weird. For years, he felt that pulsing boredom in his skull, that constant sense of restlessness, no matter what he did. Now, he’s stuck in a bed, doing nothing, and he felt...He didn’t know what he felt. Not empty. Not nothing. Something. Rested.

He’d slept for days. He rested for days. Moved when he needed, but not doing much. Just two days ago, he stood, leaning on crutches as he went around Arn’s clinic. He saw people. Most were smaller than him. Hairy.

Seth let out a slow breath, then stood. His ribs didn’t hurt when he breathed anymore. Arn said he healed well, some sort of...positive reaction, or whatever. Something about his body. He didn’t get it.

There was a mirror nearby, one Arn had set up, and Seth looked at himself in it. His feathers had gone white. He’d rubbed blood through his feathers before, a way of showing how brutal he was. Something other bandits did. Now they were white. Clean. His bruises were fading. His bones were mended. The bags under his eyes were gone.

He looked better than he had in years. All it took was everyone he knew dying. He could almost laugh.

There was another crash. A loud one. That wasn’t someone dropping something.

Seth grabbed his crutch and went out, looking around the town while icedrakes with blood-red feathers whooped and hollered as they rode in on snowsteeds, a familiar sight he never expected to be on the other side of. They weren’t throwing fire, yet, but they were swinging whips and twirling spears and as one approached Seth stepped out and smashed her straight off her steed with his crutch. She landed with a pained scream, and he slammed the crutch on her head to knock her out. He took the whip, tested it, and swung at the next asshole in formation, catching him around the throat and pulling him up and down to the ground, hard.

“Woah, shit! Ha, looks like we got-” Talky one got the crutch thrown straight into his face, and Seth cracked his neck as he stepped forward, picking a dagger from the closest bandit and glaring at the rest of the riders.

He didn’t see Arn. That made him scowl. He could feel the cold on his scales, and his breath came in small vapors. He was still changed. Good. It made him feel alive.

Cavalry had advantages. Taller, faster, bigger range. Seth killed a lot of cavalrymen. This wouldn’t be anything new.

Arrows came quick and he chucked his knife quicker, slamming it into and through one fuck’s chest as he sprinted to the next, jumping and gripping their face as he wrenched them off the steed and into the snow. He coughed as he landed on his chest. Still injured, would’ve landed on his feet before. Whatever.

He punched twice, then pushed up as one prick came swinging with a saber. He punched him in the face, hooked his ankle under the bandit’s, and slammed him into the snow, turning and whacking him with his tail as he looked around, trying to find more.

An arrow to the back nearly sent him reeling over, before he braced himself, gritting his teeth as he refrained from yelling out. Seth had grown far too accustomed to fighting in a group, so fighting by himself would be yet another uphill challenge.

Grabbing the saber from the fallen bandit, Seth blocked the next arrow coming towards him, before outright chucking the saber at the shooter, catching them in the shoulder and knocking them off their steed.

But before he could draw his hand back, a whip wrapped around it, giving Seth only a moment to react before he was dragged off his feet, being pulled along by one of the bandits. Nearly feeling his arm pop off entirely, Seth gripped onto the whip with his free hand, and began to pull himself towards the rider. But it seemed this one was smarter than the rest, and they let go of the whip when they made a sharp turn, leaving Seth to tumble through snow before crashing into a building.

Dazed and looking around, he locked eyes with a pair of cowering bugbears, much smaller than the rest. Shit. Looking out through the hole he made with his body, Seth could see the remaining assholes getting ready to fire upon the house. Rolling away from the hole, Seth knocked over a table, making a barricade for him in the bugbears in time for the arrows to come raining in. The tykes screamed and some arrowheads stabbed through the table. They didn’t get all the way through though.

Right, tykes were still there. He glanced at them. He wasn’t good with tykes. He smiled and gave them a thumb’s up. Reassuring. One whimpered, and the other looked confused. That wasn’t scared, so half a win.

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill them,” he reassured. Now both of them were staring like he was crazy. Not scared, so full win.

Then he heard whooping and smelled fuel. So he bolted over the table, tore a handful of arrows–mostly getting the shafts instead of the heads–from it, and pitched them at the closest fucker he could see. The laughing drake’s eyes went wide when one of them stabbed through the twin bottles in his hand, the rest either falling short or stabbing the other archers, and the explosion blew out the windows around, blue fire washing over the patch of street and roaring up into the sky.

He waited a moment, then looked back at the tykes. “Told you.”

Huh. They looked awed. That was different.

“...Shout for me if anything else happens. Or if you see Arn. Arnie. Stay safe.” There, reassured.

He let out a breath, then ran–mostly hobbled–past the burning bodies. There was still noise, and he could hear it getting closer. So he went to the main street. He didn’t know where that was, but the biggest street was probably it, and he knew what to do.

Once he was there, he took in a deep breath, threw his head back, and ROARED.

He didn’t shatter windows, but he heard the panicked shrieks of steeds all around him as they reacted to the sound of a known predator, bucking and bolting as their riders screamed in panic, none managing to stay on as the snowsteeds fled, taking whatever direction would get them out of there the fastest.

“You.”

Seth lowered his head, his breath coming cold and heavy. The cold was biting into his scales now. He could feel it on every inch of him. That roar might’ve fucked his throat. He rubbed at it, glaring at the black-armored jackass brushing snow off his fancy cloak.

“What a twist of fate, finding you here,” the big fucker continued, his voice booming in his helm, “It does save me the trouble of tracking you down, Coldblood.”

Shit, someone with a grudge. That was annoying. It happened before, but most of the time it was some asshole tracking him down, not a coincidence. And most of the time, he had back-up.

“Really, I didn’t expect to find you at all. I heard your entire band was wiped out. It hurt to hear that. I wanted to kill every last one of you myself.”

Ah, really deep grudge then. Shit. This was probably someone important then...His name wasn’t coming to mind though…

"Though, I suppose the honor of finishing off the job will be enough.” The guy pulled a huge, black greatsword off his back, holding it easy. So he was strong, at least. “I have to say, you really put things in perspective for me. I spent so long thinking I was at the top of the world, then I was knocked down by some lightlander brats. I come here, thinking I can eek by, working for some rabbits, and then you come by and do the exact same thing. Some no-name snowdrake-” Icedrake. “-from the ass end of our own frozen shithole. You’re no chosen hero, no prodigy, just a big fish in a small pond. Big enough to beat me down though.

“So here I am, a full month later-” It’d been a month? Huh. “-getting myself back in gear. I took over my own band of snowdrakes-” Icedrakes. “-and trained every single day until I stood back up, at the point I wanted to start raiding little hamlets like this. But don’t mistake me. I’m not stopping here. I’m going further, not to raid, but to conquer. You’re looking at the next Demon Lord, brat, and I’ve decided, here and now, that I’ll be taking your town as my first territory.

“Ain’t that fitting? Your little hideaway, the place you settled down at, now the seat of my new empire! I think that’s a good payback, don’t you?” This guy talked a lot. “But don’t worry. I promise to send every last one of these little gobs after you when I send you to hell. Your precious village, the home you made, slaughtered, all because of you! Your one shot at redemption that you’ve so desperately clung to, torn down at the hands of the man you wronged! This is my vengeance-!”

“I don’t know most of these people.”

The guy paused in his gestures and looked back at him. “What?”

“I only know one guy. A bugbear. About…” Seth paused for a moment, then lowered his hand to his abs. “This high? I think. I haven’t compared yet.”

“...Don’t think your excuses will stop-”

“Also, redemption. Why are you bringing that up?”

“What? Because...Why else are you here, living among these...dirt people?”

“They’re furry people, not dirt people, so go fuck yourself on that account, and I don’t give a shit about redemption. I don’t feel bad for anything I’ve ever done.” He paused again. “No, that one’s not true. I do feel bad for getting my...my friends killed.” He scratched at his feathers, sighing and walking closer to the armored guy. “That’s shit, and I’m still mad about it, but I genuinely don’t feel bad for anything else. I don’t want redemption. I’m just paying back a debt.”

The guy stared at him, then snarled. “So be it then! If this all means nothing to you, then you won’t care if I burn it to the ground!”

“No, I will. Arnie lives here, and he’s decent. So that will piss me off.”

“So-Then I’m right! You do care!”

“Yeah. Because someone I like lives here. Not because I’m redeemed.”

Armored guy growled again, trying to loom over Seth. He did have the height for it. “THEN I’LL JUST KILL HIM! WOULD THAT FINALLY UPSET YOU, YOU STUPID PIECE OF-”

Seth stepped in close and SLAMMED his fist as hard as he could straight into the center of the guy’s chest. There was a boom as the snow around them was blown back, then a rattling noise.

Something spilled out of the guy’s helmet. Maybe vomit. His legs were shaking, and Seth could feel blood leaking out around his fist, buried deep in the crater in the center of the guy’s breastplate. There was another creaking noise, what might’ve been a whimper, and Seth stepped out of the big guy’s way, letting him drop flat into the snow.

Then he looked over at the ring of bandits, all staring at him in shock. “...So. Who next?”

Something smelled like piss. Then one of the bandits stepped forward, holding his saber in a shaking hand and pointing it at him. “Y-You...Th-There’s still...p-plenty of us, so you-” Then an arrow went straight through his throat.

Seth glanced to the side, then blinked as a full on horde of armored bugbears charged the bandits, who all shrieked in panic and started fleeing as arrows and javelins rained down on where they were at. Most of them didn’t make it before getting swarmed by furry goblins, brought to the ground, and bound up as they were beaten unconscious with clubs and rocks.

“...Huh.” Seth scratched at his head as cheers went up, the townspeople celebrating their victories and stomping on their victims. For the celebration. Right. “Huh…”

“Well you certainly did good there,” Arnie complimented as he walked on up, cleaning his bloody hands off with a rag.

“...Thanks? You, uh...I didn’t think your people could…”

“What, stab someone? We’re plenty good at that. Takes some time to get a militia together when there’s a surprise attack though. Most people want to get their families to safety before mounting counterattacks.”

“...Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“They also got really distracted by your whole showdown with tall, dark, and scary here.” He nudged the guy with a foot, receiving a groan in reply. “It was pretty interesting to see, real intense, though you did ruin the moment a lot there.”

“I did?”

“Yup. Granted, I’m surprised this lug could take any of that seriously with you being totally naked the whole time. Were there no pants in the room?”

Seth looked down. “...I have bandages on.”

“You do, true. Well, guess that’s icedrakes for you. Snow doesn’t bother you at all, huh?”

“No, it does. Now, at least.” Seth shrugged, wincing at the pain shooting through his arm. “I think it happened because of that leviathan.”

“...Huh. That’s...huh.” Arnie hummed there, then shrugged too. “Well, we better get you back to the clinic. I hear you got into a few scraps out there.”

Seth shrugged again, ignoring the sting. “It’s fine. Don’t they need you around here?”

“Nah, my apprentices can handle things. Injuries were at a minimum, mainly thanks to you, I figure.”

“...You have apprentices?”

“I do. They hide when you’re up, since you’re huge and terrifying.”

“Ah.” Seth nodded. That sounded reasonable.

“...Is your arm broken?”

“Hm?”

“It’s turning purple.”

Seth looked at his arm. Then he looked at the other one, the one he punched the guy with. “...Yup. It is doing that.” Also bleeding.

“...Let’s get you back to the clinic.”

------------------------------------------

Annoyingly, the broken arm healed a lot slower, so Seth wound up sticking around longer. Then it did heal, and he sort of just...kept sticking around.

At first, he told himself that he only stayed because he needed to pay back Arnie again for healing his arm. But even after Arnie said he’d done more than enough, he stuck around. He didn't really have anywhere to go and didn't have any place he wanted to go, so this town soon became a familiar sight to him.

"Heya Seth, can you hand me the gerinick?" called out Jogal, one of Arnie's many apprentices, the young Bugbear currently working on some medical concoctions.

Letting out a small, irritated huff at being treated like some sorta assistant, Seth reached over to grab the recently crushed flower and handed it over. Then he watched Jogal work. It was interesting. So many things were interesting now. He used to find village life so damned dull he would do anything to get away from it. Now though, it felt cozy.

He still felt cold. Not like he felt cold, but he felt cold, could still feel it. Maybe that was part of it. It felt like the world was more vibrant, somehow. Smells were sharper, sounds were clearer, crappy foods tasted even more shit and actually decent grub was amazing. The world felt new.

Arnie helped with that too. Not just by being his friend, but by giving him this stuff to take whenever his head started aching. It helped keep things clear.

Even when dealing with the occasional bandit groups, he didn't get irritated at them being weak, instead enjoying being the unofficial leader of the militia. Semi-official, since they did give him a sash. It was nice. White, like his feathers.

All in all, he liked living there. He had a sense of purpose, he didn’t feel bored, and no one was trying to force him any which way. Sure, he had people asking for help, but that just meant things he could do. Like watching Jogal make medicine, least until he heard a bell from outside and went to check. They’d set up a system to alert people if something was going on, using bells to call the militia or even just Seth if it was something easy to take care of.

This was not one of those things. Seth could tell that the instant he laid eyes on that human woman, bundled up in dark furs and grinning at him as he approached.

Seth studied her back, then tilted his head at Arnie and Vilde, the mayor-type person. “Arn. Ma’am.” He looked back at the woman. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she greeted back, raising a hand and grinning. Probably a good sign. The other people around were less of one. See, Seth could tell they were strangers, on account of the simple fact that all of them stood way above the locals in terms of height.

However, he couldn't tell exactly what they were, due to the thick, dark furs they were wearing too, aside from that they were strong. Far too strong for the bugbears.

"Did you need something?"

"Of course, I came here to talk to you after all," she said as she continued to grin, "My name is Claire Valondrac, and am I correct in presuming you are the drake who defeated the former Demon General Lothul not once, but twice?"

"Who?"

It seemed that wasn't the answer she was expecting. "...Lothul Black-Blade, former general of the Demon Lord Orast."

"I have no idea who the fuck that is."

"...Is that that guy in that big black armor that showed up while you were still in bandages?" Arn asked, stepping into the conversation.

"Lothul was known to wear full black armor, yes," Valondrac answered, so Seth frowned at her.

"Oh, that guy? You trying to get revenge for him?"

"Not at all, in fact, I came to meet you to see if you're interested in working for me."

"Well I'm not. Already did the bandit life."

"..." It really seemed like she didn't expect the conversation would go this way. And it seemed the bigger of her two companions was holding back some laughter. Hm. Big, black clothes...nah, different body shape, wasn’t the armored guy. "Well, I'm not asking you to become a bandit. Instead, I came here to ask you to become one of my generals."

Seth paused, looking back at Valondrac. "Like that Lothul?"

"He wasn't one of mine, but yes."

"And he was a bandit. So you're asking me to become a bandit." It seemed like that pushed the bigger one over. She started laughing, holding her stomach as she doubled over.

"...Again, no. Lothul became a bandit after Orast was defeated. I'm here to see to see if you wish to become one of my generals as I establish my rule as demon lord."

"...Lothul wanted to become demon lord. So that's like. A big bandit boss, right?"

"If you would allow me, my lady," the other companion prompted. Claire signalled him to continue, which made sense since she seemed a bit exasperated. Stepping forward, he took off his hood, and flashed a smile. A very sharp smile. A vampire then. "While it is true that Lothul may have intended to become a more violent demon lord, my lady has no intentions of doing so. What she intends to do is bring the Dark Lands under her rule, and while she would prefer more peaceful means, she knows force may be necessary, and as such wishes to recruit you as one of her generals."

"And why should I join?"

"It is your own choice if you wish to join, all I ask is that you listen to my lady before you make a choice."

“I’m listening now. I already did the bandit thing. I don’t want to do it again.”

“Oh believe me, we are well aware of that, Mister Co-”

“Not Coldblood. I’m just Seth.”

The vampire blinked, then smiled. It looked more genuine. “I certainly can respect that. I can also respect your decision to forgo the life of banditry. There are those who don’t make such a choice though, as I am sure you are aware.”

“...Right. And?”

Valondrac stepped forward again, grinning again. “That’s where I come in. How would you like it if all those bandits stopped their raiding completely?”

Seth paused. He glanced at Arnie, who shrugged, then back at Valondrac. “I don’t know. Fighting bandits feels alright, and not having them to fight would suck.”

The big woman snorted and Valondrac huffed. “Right right, of course it would, but I’m trying to offer you...Alright, look, I want to conquer the Dark Lands, and that includes Brunzaba, and I’m not going to be some idiot who claims to rule but doesn’t actually do anything, so that’s going to include protecting every single one of my citizens and keeping them from getting raided and killed by brigands. Is that clear enough?”

“I guess.”

“...” She looked like she was waiting for something. A minute passed, and she sighed. “Right. Look, Brunzaba doesn’t have a full nation, right? It’s mostly city-states and independent villages, many of which are run by local lords, which can be anything from frostdrakes like you to full vampires, right?”

“Sure. It’s icedrakes.”

“Oh, alright, icedrakes then. And while yes, there is a sort of central authority in the form of the Church of Time, it largely ignores the plight of the general populace, right?”

“...” He glanced at Arnie, who chuckled and nodded. “Yes.”

“...Do you know anything about your home country?”

“It’s snowy. We have lots of mountains. Crops are hard to grow so you should build around a hot spring and set up greenhouses for that stuff. There are some ice-fruit types, but mammals can’t eat them.” He paused in thought. “I guess only icedrakes and ice-type animals can eat them? Something about the cold and hardness.”

“...I...Alright, the...the primary faith of this region is Bleakism, the worship of the Goddess of Time, Bleak. It’s a melancholic faith focused around the idea of inevitability and submitting to it, with an emphasis on conformity and rigid schedule-keeping.”

“That sounds dull.” Vilde lightly kicked him the shin, frowning for some reason.

“...Your pastor is right there.”

Seth stared at Valondrac, then glanced at Vilde, who had her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. “...Oh. Right, you talk about rules and stuff…” He looked back at Valondrac. “That’s different though. She’s sets stuff so people know what needs doing and when to get things done.”

“That’s the point of the faith, Seth,” Vilde said, then sighed, “I swear, he’s not...no, yeah, he usually is this thick.”

“I can tell.” Valondrac sighed too. “Right, my point is, despite the church’s presence, they don’t do much to curb this region’s absolutely massive bandit problem, which comes about because this is an intensely inhospitable region, which drives people to desperate means for food and supplies, and also because, as far as I can tell, you literally don’t have a legal system.”

“No no, the big cities do,” Vilde continued, “It’s just when you’ve got a town about our size, building a jailhouse, well...it’s kinda a waste. You gotta set up locks, gotta make sure it’s heated enough that the criminals don’t freeze, you need to provide food and clothes and bedding for them...honestly, all around, it’s a waste of resources that you oughta be putting towards something else.”

“Which means we usually just chuck criminals off the nearest cliff and hope they don’t come back,” Arnie added, before patting Seth’s leg, “Course, sometimes we can’t help but be compassionate. You gotta have at least some heart out here, else what’s the point of keeping on with life? Surviving just to survive isn’t any kind of life.”

“Yeah,” Seth agreed, “It’s a shit kind of life.”

And Valondrac smiled at that. “I can tell. It seems like this is a better place for you, though I still want to extend my offer. You’re a strong person, Seth, and I want someone like you on my side. I want to help Brunzaba as a whole, and that means bringing in food, furs, resources that people need. That means finding ways to curb the bandit populations, like providing opportunities for better lives. You represent an idea here, even if you might not know it, the idea that it’s entirely possible to rehabilitate someone who went down a bloody path in life.

“I want to do something similar with other bandits. I want to offer amnesty to those willing to take it. I want to add them into my forces as trained raiders and warriors who can be turned to defending all our people instead of hurting them.”

“You want a lot,” he replied.

She smirked. “Oh you have no idea. I’m not going to be an idiot about this though. If they abuse my generosity, I’ll do worse than throw them from a cliff. But if they’re willing to take my second chance, it will be a complete one. One where they can be a part of something, instead of trying to tear it apart.”

“And you want me to help make it happen.” Now he was getting it.

“Yes, exactly. I know your history, for the most part, and how successful you’ve been on both sides of bandit raids. I want someone like you working for me. I can give you whatever you might need to sweeten the deal. Just make the request, and I’ll do my best to fulfill it.”

“Sure. Fight me.”

"Oh?"

"Now yer speakin’ my language!" Pulling her hood back, the largest of the group revealed herself to be an orc. A green one. Seth hadn’t seen many orcs, but the ones he did were gray, so she was probably from further west. "Here I thought we'd only be talkin’, but if it's a fight ya want, then I'm all up for it!"

"No, not you. If she's in charge, I want to fight her." And with that, the orc seemed to frown at being denied a fight. "I refuse to work under anyone weak. Show me your strength."

"Is that so…very well. But perhaps we should move elsewhere. I would hate to cause any damage to this village if we get out of hand."

"Sure thing. Lead the way."

A short walk later, they were all in a clear snowfield outside the village. Most of them. Vilde had stuff to do, so it was just Arn on Seth’s side, and the vampire and the orc on Valondrac’s.

Valondrac was stretching, her coat in her vampire’s hands, which meant she was left wearing a black sweater, thick enough that the cold didn’t seem to bother her. Then she finished her stretches and let out a deep breath that pushed orange fire out of her mouth, and Seth paused in his own prep to stare.

“Huh. You a fire human?”

“Pfft-Nope nope, normal human here. Well, probably a bit cambionic...also, human types aren’t really lined along elements like drakes tend to.”

“Why?”

“I suppose it's because we don’t change our physiology as drastically? Classifications are odd, and people tend to argue about what, precisely, humans should be classified by. Skin color is a decent indicator, though not a flawless one, particularly with how the spread of human beings means that they’re present all across the world. Though I suppose that’s the same for drakes, isn’t it?”

“...I guess.”

Valondrac chuckled. “You’re a very straightforward man, huh?”

“Sure. You’re a weird woman.” He straightened, staring her in her yellow eyes. “Any other weird knowledge to share?”

“Hn...did you know that the mountains of Brunzaba are supposedly the great bronze palaces of the icedrakes’ ancestors? Supposedly, they were swallowed in frost when they made a few too many deals with the Perfidians.”

“Right, the ice demons. I know that one. Interesting.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Valondrac grinned, then set into a stance, which meant she had martial arts. Also interesting.

And as they stared at one another, he couldn't help but feel eager for the fight.

And the feeling lasted as the orc called the start and he surged forward. She smirked, and a wall of fire cut him off, making him flinched on instinct and she burst forward, slamming a palm hard enough into his chest to send him flying.

He rolled with the landing, patted down the flames on his shirt, and went right back in. He was a fighter, not a mage, so no funny tricks for him here. He needed to get in close and down her to win, and she didn’t give him any chance to.

Simple fact was, she was trained and he wasn’t. His way of fighting was wild, brutal, intent on bringing down someone the instant he got to them. Each fist was not just dodged or blocked but slapped aside, the back of her hand or her palm smacking his arm off to the side before her other hand smashed into his chest or face. An attempt at a kick saw his other leg and all sense of balance go out from under him as she shot a sharp kick to his ankle. He landed on his back plenty. But he got up.

Stubborn. Maybe stupid. But he didn’t want to lose again.

Heat washed over him with each blow. It wasn’t a show anyone would enjoy; he wasn’t as fast or as sharp as her, so it went.

“You’re going easy on me,” he commented after one palm to his chin made his head rattle. He shook it off.

“Yes? It’s a spar, remember? So of course I’m going to go easy at it.” Valondrac smirked. “You’re not bad. You’re not especially good though.”

“So I’m noticing. I’m better with a club.”

“Get one then.”

He blinked. Then he did. A wooden one, made for training. The weight felt right in his hand, and he smirked. “Better.”

The next try gave him a better advantage–He swung his club hard and Claire actually ducked, a surprised grin on her face–with reach and force. He knew how to use weapons, and just that sight bit of comfort made it a lot better.

Hard swings couldn’t be palmed away, and he knew how to avoid overextending. She tried the wall of fire and he blasted it away with the shockwave–Ah, clever lady rushed in quick, nearly got him with a palm but he was expecting it and had a hand free, shooting forward at her face and making her duck, off balance as he rolled with the momentum and nearly slammed his club straight into her chest when he twisted, only for her foot to shoot up and kick it straight up, outta his hand.

She let him get it before the next round, both of them grinning wide by now, and then it went on.

Claire burned bright, that much was obvious. Not just with the fire she was spewing, but with drive. She was damn interesting, and he wanted to knock her out! In a good way!

Fuck, he was having actual fun!

Seth started laughing, his smile as wide as hers as palms of burning flame heated the air. The snow below them even started to melt from it, and it felt fucking beautiful!

This was HEAT! And gods, it felt natural!

His breath was steaming in the air as the wall of earth erupted up and Claire flipped over it, her kick catching on his club, raised to block! There were cracks of thunder as fire burst into lightning, her style changing in an instant as palms became two-fingers jabs! She blocked his swings with closed fists, soil erupting from actual dirt! Melted snow formed to water as she twisted and dodged, smiling all the while! And he knew he hadn’t seen anything yet!

His teeth were getting sharper! More and more pillars of stone shot up as she wove around them and he broke them down, til he spotted her standing on one and his back tore, his eyes burning cold and alive as wings erupted out and he charged for her!

“YOU GOT THIS, SETH!” Arnie shouted from over by the village! They moved far out from it and he didn’t even notice! HA! THAT WAS GOOD, HE DIDN’T WANNA HURT HIS PEOPLE! AND HE WAS HAVING SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!

Valondrac looked small for a second but that didn’t make any fucking sense so he ignored it, swinging his claws down and crushing pillars and trying to catch her with his teeth! She was flying on feathery wings, laughing and wild, and Seth flapped his own leathery wings as his tail smashed through stone, before launching straight for her as she grinned once and–

He flinched back as she flicked his snout, the sudden pain catching him off guard. Which, weird, he’d ignored all other pain up until that point, he had a way high tolerance for it, and also how the fuck was he flying, what?

“...uh.” Seth twisted his neck and looked at his back. Which he could do. Because his neck was long now? And he had wings. And his tail was longer. And his legs were different and what??

“Alright, wow! This was definitely worth it! Ha ha ha! Holy shit, you actually turned into a dragon!”

“...I did?” He did. “...Holy shit.”

“Yeah! I said that! Holy shit dude!"

“Yeah...huh.” He stared at himself some more, then glanced down at the stone pillars he was standing on. On all fours. Because he was on all fours now. “...Damn, you made a lot of these.”

“I did, yes. I did melt most of the ice, so it wasn’t as though I could use that to great effect. Besides, you’re an ice dragon, that would be like trying to fight a torei with lightning.”

“A what?”

“Olafiban lightning spirit, you can see them if you, saaaaaay, decided to join up with my army, Mister Huge Ice Dragon?”

He glanced back at her. Weirdly, despite Seth objectively being bigger than her, she didn’t feel small in the slightest. “...I didn’t beat you though. And you didn’t beat me.”

“And?”

He paused. Honestly, fair argument. So he nodded. “Alright. This village is mine. I don’t know how this army stuff works, who gets what territory, but this one’s mine. They’re my people, my benefits go to them.”

Claire smirked. “They do say every dragon has a hoard...I suppose at least one of them would start collecting people, wouldn’t they?”

“Nah. Not collecting people. Finding friends.”

“...Ha. To finding friends then.”

Speaking of friends, Seth decided he should show Arnie what just happened.

“Hey Arnie! I’m a dragon now!”

“I can see that! Can you turn back?”

“Probably! I’ll try later! I like this!”

“Okay, but try before you come into the city! You were already a giant, so this is honestly ridiculous!”

“It’s honestly amazing is what it is! Ha!”

The orc winced. “Why the hell’s he shoutin’...”

And the vamp patted her shoulder. “Exuberance, my dear bane of lions. Joyful exuberance.”

So yeah! Seth was a dragon now, and he was working for the Demon Lord. Got a good job and reached the divine metamorphosis all members of his race had the potential to reach, yet few ever did. And he was one of them. So yeah, suck on that one, random ice leviathan.

Seth wasn’t just surviving, he was living.

#writing #fiction #fantasy #dragons #bugbears #lizardfolk #bandits #banditry #cursing #my writing #dlg #leviathans

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