#of her grinding the tooth to dust

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

just two ideas i have wanted to get out there for a while... oh rogue. you gave them a ring?? pls?? SO vanilla.

[mordenheim]

Let me remind you

The throne room was empty in the ancient castle.  The tapestries were free of dust and grime, though the ravages of time have left them tattered and faded.  The grand carpet leading up to the throne itself was threadbare from centuries of booted feet striding up and down its length.

The throne where Lady Liantha was lounging was immaculate, however.  The pillows were perfect, preened and fluffed.  The dark wood of the throne was polished to a mirror sheen and the gold inlay sparkled in the flickering light of the braziers and candles.

She relaxed in her dress of crushed midnight blue velvet.  Her long, dark hair was teased up above her head and held in place with a diamond studded silver tiara.  She swirled a glass of deep red wine in her hand as the gently pointed tip of her ear twitched slightly.  She had an uninvited guest.

A simple gesture of her free hand and her minions sprang into action.  Zombies crawled their way from under stones in the floor as stone gargoyles clambered down from their perches up in the darkness.  She heard the scream and grinned.  

She closed the hand she had been gesturing with and pulled it in towards her body.  There was a struggle and a crash, but she could hear the intruder being slowly dragged down the hall towards the throne room.

The huge double doors were opened and the intruder deposited on the ancient carpet.  They then swung shut with a loud bang, locking from the outside.  The intruder pushed herself up off of the carpet with surprising ease and grace, impressing the vampire.

She was dressed in a long black coat the likes of which Liantha had not seen before.  She finished her wine and set the glass on the floor beside her throne before seeming to float to her feet.

Her voice seemed to come from every corner of the throne room at once as she spoke, “Why have you dared to invade my home?”

The red haired woman had dark glasses over her eyes, hiding much of her expression from view.  She bared her teeth in challenge as she snapped, “Your ghouls invaded my home first.  Where is my brother?”

She ran her tongue over her fangs, glancing down at her glass, stained a deep red.  “Oh, your brother, you say?”

Liantha grinned as she closed her eyes and inhaled.  She could almost taste the despair.

“Why?  Why did you do this?  We have left you alone for centuries, and you did the same for us!  I thought there was mutual respect?”

She laughed, a sharp, cutting bark as she glared at the woman before her.  “Respect?  I was forgotten!  When was the last time your village sent their required tribute to me?”

The intruder screwed up her face in confusion, “Village?  Tribute?  How many years has it been since you’ve been outside?”

“Apparently long enough for you all to forget your duty to me.  Let me remind you.”

She let out a snarl as she began to transform.  Vicious talons shredded their way through the tough leather of her high heels.  Fingers slowly stretched and lengthened, skin spreading between them as her arms stretched out as well, becoming massive bat-like wings.  Her ears swept sharply up by the sides of her head as her nose turned upwards, her face pushing out into a sharp-toothed maw.  Her beautiful dress was shredded to pieces as her size increased by leaps and bounds.

Shaking her head, the intruder pulled a small triggering mechanism from the sleeve.  A wire vanished up into the arm of her coat which she threw open wide.  She almost appeared bat-like as well for a moment, the coat flapping wide around her until she pressed the button.

The vampire let out a shriek of agony as the high intensity ultra-violet lights flickered to life, bathing the vampire in their glow.  The skin of her wings shriveled and shrank as smoke and flames erupted from her body.  Within seconds, she was a smoking pile of bones that continued to wither under the bright lights.

The intruder snarled as she kicked the pile of ashes, grinding them into the worn carpet before she shed her coat.  She confidently strode over to the throne.  Tossing the glass aside to shatter in the darkness, she sat down on the throne, feeling the power of the ancient castle offering itself to her.

[latibulater]

YOUNG 20S TRIANA x SIRENA drabble

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Triana ducked out of the party smiling. It was still snowing outside, and she stuck her tongue out to catch a few icy flakes. She left the sounds and warmth of her father's New York home behind her as she began to walk around the block. It was nice to be back in town and seeing her family and friends. The Venture twins hadn't been able to make it tonight, citing "living goo" as their reason, but it was for the best. Their opposing temperaments made tornadoes of social scenes, and for Jefferson's 60th birthday that would have majorly sucked. As much as her dad and step-father liked the two young men, Triana knew they were delighted with how smoothly the evening went.

"Woah!"

She slipped on the ice. Her feet skittered under her and her arms pinwheeled through the air. Snapping her fingers, Triana floated upright before settling on two flat feet. After brushing herself off, she noticed the bright light. Down the side street on her left, was a glowing white sign of a lightning bolt over a microphone. No letters or numbers. The crunch of snow no longer filling her ears, the sound of EDM filtered down the alley and drew her in. As Triana got closer, the shadows pulled back and revealed about a dozen people on the stoop, standing and smoking under the slowly falling snow. Most of them wore dark colors and flashy jewelry accompanied by heavy makeup and styled-hair. It was exactly her kind of crowd.

Triana slipped by the small cloisters and showed her necromancing license at the door. It wasn't a driver's license, but it was state-certified and listed her birthdate. The bouncer opened the door for her without issue. Inside was another world. The heat shocked her skin and made her shiver. If she had just exited a winter wonderland, this was a dancer's dream. As she entered there was a sign informing of three dance floors above the ground floor bar, each with a different DJ. The stomping from upstairs reverberated down the walls to the foundation and shook up through her shoes. She grinned widely enough it threatened to split the healing cut over her lip. Just a souvenir from her last dust-up.

She quickly made her way up, taking in each floor's different music style. It was all similar enough that Triana was going to get a drink and then figure it out, but spotted a strange flutter. Heart stopping in her throat, she looked closer with a mumbled spell. A woman with gills on her neck and a cocktail dress of a thousand shimmering sequins danced near the center of the floor. The necromancer's dark eyes followed the line of the white dress up to the lady's collarbone and around the curve of her full-toothed, energetic smile. Triana swept through the crowd, the grinding couples shuffling over a step to clear a path. She blinked, and the spell expired. Triana gasped as she lost sight of the be-gilled woman.

Without a beacon, she lost momentum, and with that, Triana was canned in by the crowd. She kept moving forward but was spun out to the ebbs of the beat. Pushed to the wall, Triana wiped the sweat off her brow. That sucked. Maybe it was time to get that drink now. She turned around to the stairwell and came nose-to-nose with reflective eyes. They sparkled a new color as the strobe lights flashed. Triana lost her composure, staring into the oddly shaped pupils framed by thick, fake eyelashes.

"On the hunt?"

The heavy Brooklyn accent woke up the working part of her brain, breaking the spell she had fallen under so suddenly. Triana inched closer and looked down. She met those hypnotic, strange eyes. "I was," she answered. "Want to help?" The gills on the lady's neck fluttered again as she bit her painted lower lip, showing off her pearly sharps.

"What's the catch of the day?"

This close, Triana could see the outline of powdered scales over bare, brown shoulders. "Fish?" She asked, hooking one finger around the marine-woman's shoulder strap. With a delicate pull, Triana walked backward till her own head bumped the wall, letting herself be crowded in. The lady laughed deep in her chest, and it hummed between them.

"No," she said, drawing Triana in for a kiss. "Shark."

[myriadparacosm]

Being positive is one of the hardest thing that Remus had learnt, especially when he is by himself, but his friends had slowly helped him to get there. What is the most difficult to accept is his Lycanthropy, despite growing up with it, and even now he can't fully digest his fate.

There are some good aspects that he has learnt to appreciate. How easily he can predict that a new prank is on its way to be planned because James exhales an almost snort from his nose, easily unnoticed, or when Peter gets stuck in his head and his teeth clink until he gets an exit which Remus gracefully offers with a reassurance before an exam or a distraction. Lily grinds her teeth like she is munching down a source of evil and wants it smaller than dust when she gets too frustrated over essays and Remus intervenes before one of her tooth snaps.

Sirius is more subtle but it grows obvious over the years, he straightens up - poses like Pureblood are expected to - when he comes across something that leaves him speechless and without really thinking of a way out. Remus always noticed it in the corner of his eyes, even back in first year when Sirius still had some 'proper' manners, and he often found himself reaching out to not quite comfort him but at least show that Remus is by his side.

It's only thanks to his acute nose that Remus figured that James was secretly dating (this was obvious but Remus played blind) Regulus because of the Slytherin's perfume clinging on James everytime he came back from their hidden dates. Or when Peter is faking his sleep, Remus can pinpoint it with his breathing without trying.

What is the most positive, if he really needs to pick one, is how fitting he feels to be for Sirius. It has to be related to the lycanthropy because Remus doesn't need to think twice to shift, leaving a dedicated spot, before Sirius even steps out from his bed to seek some company. Just like how he reads his eyes, mesmerizing painting of a faraway storm ready to lash out but can craddle you with one innocent blink, which gives Remus this sudden kownledge that he secretly owns even if everyone would believe James is the one to know Sirius in and out.

Remus happens to picture himself free of the lycanthropy, all the opportunities and confidence he is missing, but he also can't deny that perhaps he would miss a part of it.

[meezer]

dentist update. first off, she got this big fuckass TV on the wall of her office and was playing like, H&M soundtrack lyric videos on it, (wonderwall was playing when I first noticed it!!! that was a sign for me personally, noted wonderwall enjoyer!) and when I pointed it out she said I was an "observant spirit." of course I'm going to notice a huge TV that wasn't there last time I was here! and I also told her about the thing with the surgery and why I can't do it and why it's really not up to me and she was very sweet actually and she understood. and when I left I apologized and she said I don't need to justify myself and I don't need to apologize and that well... she said something really beautiful.. she said like I hope one day the day will come when you can choose for yourself without feeling guilty, she said, I mean this when it comes to this specific thing but also to anything else as well. 😢 she said you need to take care of yourself because you are young and you are important and... yeah she was just she was amazing. OH she told me my top right wisdom tooth is coming in! and it's pushing on all my other ones on that side lol. AND. SHE WAS JUST LOOKING IN MY MOUTH AND SHE WENT LIKE "such weak structure.. :(" I think she was referring to the positioning of my teeth LMFAO. she told me I need to floss better and I need to be more thorough when brushing the sides of my top back molars. oh and she did not unfortunately grind her nurse into dust but at least this time the nurse didn't give my gums blunt force trauma with the aspirator so we'll take what we can get. I'll need to see my dentist again in 6 months so.. late september?

[sunset-a-story]

A Few Find the Words in One

I've been tagged in a few of these the past couple of days so I'm going to take a page out of @winterandwords book and combine them.

My words @lexiklecksi: crazy, flower, comfort, accusation, deprivation @words-after-midnight: dream, break, poor, light, yearn(ing) @words-after-midnight redux: lend, tooth, early, heavy, intense.

I'm not doing all of these words because that is too much but I did more than half

Crazy

Alex did his best not to give him a you’re-crazy look. “Okay, then. I’m a psychometrist." "Cool." Lee nodded so casually that it took Alex by surprise. This really was just their normal around here. Lee made a face. "You must hate toilets." He laughed, doing his best to keep the volume down. "You have no idea."

Poor

Adler ran his finger down the wall. The concrete falling away from the brick was a brilliant cobalt blue. Floor, ceiling, walls, pillars, everything that hadn’t crumbled away was blue. He’d bought the dilapidated, nearly two-hundred-year-old paint factory years ago, on the cheap, but hadn’t gotten around to tearing it down and replacing it with something useful. It was hard to, the more he thought about it, though it was clearly in the process of tearing itself down. The history of the building spoke to him. No one had painted these walls blue. The rising dust from grinding cobalt day after day and year after year had tinted everything it touched, including the poor work animals that powered the mill. Beauty as a side effect of function.

Tooth

Reeve’s brow furrowed, “Yeah, I’ll want to go in so I can facilitate something quieter that’s less likely to raise suspicion.” Gareth snorted. Reeve glared at him. “What.” Gareth shook his head and pursed his lips. “Nothing, I’ve just never heard scrambling someone’s brains referred to in such fancy language.” “You get how stupid it is to be sarcastic at a telepath about telepathy right?” “I thought you weren’t supposed to be reading my thoughts.” She rolled her eyes at Gareth. “Dude, we all know what you’re thinking. Three-toothed Dan who runs the gas station knows what you’re thinking.”

Dream

They made their way through the squares at the center of the city and headed on to the Eastern outskirts. The gleaming resorts and church spires slowly gave way to narrow gravel roads and graffiti. Tangles of power lines crisscrossed above them like dreamcatchers. The brightly painted houses were clustered together and on top of each other like a child’s building blocks. There were stone walls on every street in various stages of collapsing into rubble and bars on every window.

Accusation

Austin laughed, head thrown back. “How the mighty have fallen, huh?” He sniffed. “Aw, fuck.” Rushing back to the stove, Austin moved the smoking pan off the heat and stared at it. “Banana pancakes,” he said neutrally somewhere between an explanation and an accusation.

Break

[Through his telepathy] Reeve could feel Gareth’s mind racing with a violent sense of restraint that felt like pulling a plane out of the sky with twine. He wanted to cut his knuckles on Reeve’s eye sockets. Just start breaking bones until there was an expression on his face. “Out,” Gareth said aloud, breathing quickly. He tightened his grip. Tangled up in Gareth’s sensations Reeve could feel his own collarbone creak under a hand that wasn’t his.

Heavy

Temple cleared her throat and said, “Air resistance is the only thing preventing water molecules from falling through space at such high speeds that they’d kill everything in their wake. Just air. You can’t see it unless particles are suspended in it. Smoke is just a poof of dust that makes the invisible visible. And even once you see it, what you can’t see is just how heavy it is. Air weighs enough to scare the living daylights out of you. Resistance and invisible, imperceptible, impossibly heavy weight. That’s it. That’s the thing--the most important thing--that keeps us as organisms alive.” She looked around the bar. “Where the fuck is the waiter?”

I'm leaving this an open tag so if you're in the mood, look for these words in your WIP: echo, forgot, tea, coast, hush

[shimmerbeasts]

While this temple had been long abandoned, you could still find traces of not just, what it had once been dedicated to, but also what had attacked and left it in ruin. The pillars had been broken apart as if something had smashed through them with great force. Painted glass had been scorched and melted until a hole had appeared in its contraption. The few corpses strewn about were gathering dust in their shrivelled bodies, skin black and glued unnaturally to their faces. Their eyes were wide and bared teeth created a frozen expression of shock, anger and resilience.

Huge claw marks lined the walls and paw prints, deep enough that you could lay in them. The air carried a sulphuric undertone, together with hints of ash. Yet despite the rampage, parts of the furniture were still intact, including the wooden throne, upon which Vhaal had positioned himself with self-assuredness as if he owned it. Behind him hung a long tapestry, which had merely been scorched on its bottom half. On dark red thread stood a figure cloaked in black, seemingly hovering in mid-air. She was adorned with a pair of large, feathery wings, her face as white as snow.

"Of course not", Mizora said in a tone, which seemed to perfectly blend apathy with mockery, "It must have looked really inviting to you." The Cambion wandered around the temple, red eyes fixated sternly on the ground as if she were looking for something. Stopping, she knelt down on the floor and brushed her hand over the dust-covered stones. Feeling around the edges of one of the stones, the Cambion suddenly hooked her claws underneath it and hoisted the brick up.

Reaching deep into the hole, Mizora hoisted out a thin, rectangular box, approximately the size of a medium-sized book. Its black wood had been polished into a shine and safe for the silver clasp, locking the box, there was nothing extraordinary about it. The Cambion brushed her hand over her found, humming pleased, before she put the item underneath her arm and approached the throne. Best to be sure this was what she suspected it to be.

Vhaal had asked whether she brought other people here. Mizora ignored him. The Cambion turned around and sat down on his lap, her long tail curling thick and heavy over his belly and dangling over the side. Bare feet, supported by sharp claws, pricked into Vhaal's shin as Mizora shifted around before she had properly made herself comfortable. She could hear a little grunt as her weight forced some air out of the drow's lungs as well as him trying to shift how he sat here.

"I do not think you object to it, do you, little drow?", Mizora teased and shifted backwards, intentionally grinding herself against his crotch, but doing the gesture so swiftly, that it happened in passing, "And well, you seem quite warm."

Mizora placed the box on her thighs. She flicked open the clasp and carefully lifted up the box. It was filled to the brim with rows upon rows of long, white teeth, sharp and curved like daggers, each the size of a weapon in its own right. The base of the teeth had tendrils of flesh and specks of dried blood stuck to them. Mizora picked up one of the fangs and inspected them under a critical, red eye.

"Good", the Cambion said, "Seems those cultists did not die for nothing and even managed to hide what the dragons tried to reclaim. My mistress, Lady Zariel, will be quite pleased indeed."

Mizora placed the dragon tooth back among its brothers and sisters and shut the box once more. She stored it back under her arm and turned to look over at Vhaal. She quirked a brow in bemusement at how close he was. Of course, it had all been a deliberate choice on her part, a little gambit to test the waters. Still, seeing him so comfortable was unexpected.

"You must have questions", Mizora goated him on, her voice a friendly tease as if she was not about to drive a fishing hook through the maw of her latest catch, "Please ask. I don't mind indulging your curiosity."

SITTING IN SOMEONE'S LAP PROMPTS.

↳ @shimmerbeasts : [ THRONE ]: having found the receiver sitting in their throne, the sender sits in their lap in order to symbolically and physically share the seat. (maybe during another trip, Mizora 'coerced' Vhaal into)

vhaal'krin outstretches lazily into his found ( and claimed ) seat , joints popping and sluggishness bleeding down to his bones as the white marble of his claws weaves through the air , catching faint glimpses of color and light dancing across the vast expanse of the room . the throne is large , or - it feels that way , because mizora herself is quite dainty , and it doesn't occur to him to dwell much on the consequences of sitting there ; he prefers to operate under the basis of taking the things he wanted , then dealing with the damage . it might be chaotic and impulsive , but that does tend to be more fun .

❝ sorry ... couldn't resist . ❞ the drow greets his hostess with casual warmth as she saunters back into the room , feeling a bit like a stray who'd made himself a bit too comfortable , heavy-lidded and slouching , positioned at such an angle he was almost laying down , a knee perched up slightly , his other leg left to dangle idly . ❝ mm . so , do you bring all of those stupid enough to follow you in here or just - ! ... ❞ the question is left hanging as she cuts through the thin fabric of his thoughts , forcing his body to shift and adjust accordingly , making room for her . his dark lashes blinks , as if unwitting , and with care , he silently rearranges himself in a variety of ways until she is comfortably nestled against him . ❝ ... did you just need a new cushion ? ❞ the mock in his voice feels particularly docile and noninvasive for once as he squints , perching his chin over the bump of the devils shoulder .

[nonobadcat]

Imagine Nana nearly dying to save Reader from her horrible husband, only for her efforts to end up for naught, watching Reader be completely consumed by Stockholm Syndrome as AFO takes her away. That would be absolutely devastating.

CW: Nana Trauma

Ommfff... Your gut punch ask hit me so hard I literally got nauseated reading it.

For those that don't know, this ask is related to the yandere 18+ All For One x Reader story: A Hypnotic Nightmare - rated E for “Everything is fucking wrong with this story”. Minors: do not interact.

Since Chapter 17 of this shit show, Nana has made herself out to be the classic OFA martyr. Not only did she have to LIVE all of Reader-chan's trauma, but she's got every since OFA user's personal accounts added to it. Worse yet, Yoichi is sitting inside her head confirming the reality of her nightmares. She can't even pretend that it's just a bad dream when ALL of her knows it to be true.

So let's see here... Nana found out around Feb 15th and, as of Chapter 55 we're into... late June/early July? Nana's obsessively planning to save Reader-chan for four months.

Not to mention, this thing isn't just Nana anymore. We've got Toshinori, Gran Torino, Mental, Nezu, Oceanus, Apollo and heaven knows how many other people behind the scenes on this attempt. Not only would Nana have to live the failure, she'd have a gaggle of witnesses to boot.

Can you just imagine?

Hand clasped over the gaping wound in her left arm, Nana climbed to her feet, shaking and pale. She choked on the foul fumes pouring from a ruptured sewer line before squinting through the clouds of asphalt dust. Flames licked at the base of crumpled buildings. The harsh cracks of burning glass popped all around her, like sinister parodies of summer fireworks. A puff methane gas ignited on her right. The tips of her black hair curled back upon her shoulders, glowing red like a poker before they snuffed into ash.

You turned to face her, your expression shadowed by the orange blaze behind your back. With his arms wrapped around your body like a cloak, All For One's grin gleamed in the flickering light. Hooded red eyes, looked the Float Hero up and down.

Nana's right hand clamped into a first as the left hung limp at her side. Hard teeth gritted tight until the ringing in her ears was a shrieking chorus of eight voices all crying the same thing:

"Don't touch her!"

"My, oh my..." All For One clicked his tongue, his smirk growing one tooth wider. "What has my little brother been telling you?" He pressed his cheek against yours and buried his nose in a lock of your hair.

When he took a slow, deep inhale, bile burned across Nana's tongue.

"That boy has such a hero complex. It's a wonder any of you survive half as long as you do with the way he sweet talks you into going along with his little games." All For One's eyes drifted shut as he nuzzled into your temple. "Honestly, I'm starting to think he can't stand to see anyone happy."

Despite the flames all around, you shivered.

"Go on," he murmured, softly brushing the shell of your ear with his lips. His thick arms squeezed tight around your frame. One hand dipped to your belly, cradling the bulge growing inside you as he tongued a lurid kiss to your cheek. "Tell this poor misguided creature the truth," he hissed.

You tried to open your mouth, but gluey saliva entombed your words like flies in a pitcher plant.

Sharp tip nipped at your neck. "Puppy," he growled. "While I do love a tease, don't play games with your friends."

"I..."

There was a wet flick at the column of your throat.

You swallowed. "Nana, I..."

His thumb dipped just under the waist band of your pants, scratching soothing strokes into hot skin.

Biting back a gasp, you managed to whimper: "N-not here..."

"Come now, my dear," he taunted, nibbling down your neck. Large palms flattened against your hips, pressing you into his own. A slow grind firm bulge between your butt cheeks brought a fiery flush to your face. He groaned as a jolt of electric lust jumped from your quivering body to the pads of his fingers. "Lies and omissions do not become such an—" He chuckled, before purring the words. "—honest woman."

Curling into his massive frame, your eyes drifted into a dreamy, half lidded stare. A pulse of wanton heat tingled up your core. Every tantalizing brush of his skin again yours was laced with sizzling energy that urged your heart into a painful gallop. With the Demon Lord himself breathing down your neck, there was no room for an angel on your shoulder. The words flew from your lips, riding the last breath in your lungs.

"I love him."

All For One's foul smile spit his face as the sound of delicious shattering reached his ears. It could been the window of the corner store behind him exploding in the flames, but it wasn’t.

Nana slumped to the crumbling pavement, scraping her knees in the the fall.

Red eyes smoldered with hellfire as Shigaraki scooped you up into his chest. Cradling his prize, he inhaled the toxic smoke that billowed over the wreckage. A sweeter scent than this victory, he'd never breath again.

"I'll catch up with you later, little brother," he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "I'm afraid I have to tend to my wife. She's feeling rather needy."

As Nana watched him carry you off into the sulfurous black smog, she collapsed under the wreckage of her own heart.

...and to loop back to the subject of calendar dates, you all do remember what past event happened at the start of July , right?

No?

Click below to feel the pain (spoilers):

[tchallasbabymama]

Ready

Hey y’all, here’s a request I got a while ago for M’Baku with a breeding kink. I hope I did you proud, anon! More oneshot requests coming soon. Next up: T’Challa in heat❤️‍🔥! Enjoy, and check out my masterlist when you’re done so you can read my other oneshots and series.

Word Count: 3,302

Rada gazed at herself in the mirror as she finished applying a moisturizing serum to her face. Her eyes fell to her stomach and a tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth, making the slight dimple in her left cheek come out of hiding. That sweet, longing smile turned mischievous when she locked eyes with her reflection and she went over her plan in her head. She was finally ready to take the plunge and become a parent, and she knew her husband, M’Baku, would be more than excited. In their three years of marriage, he never pressured her, but he was very vocal about the fact that he wanted to be a father. Truth be told, part of Rada wanted to have children a couple of years ago, but her fear of raising a child in this fucked up world kept her from going any further. That fear wasn’t completely gone, but it had waned enough for Rada to feel comfortable telling her husband she was ready.

She straightened the lace hem of her red silk nightie and took one last glance at herself before exiting the bathroom. M’Baku sat up on his side of the bed, nose deep in his latest read as Rada posed awkwardly in the doorframe.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yes, love?” he asked without looking up from the page.

Rada rolled her eyes and made her way over to the bed. “What are you reading?”

“A new thriller from Ade Mustafa. Just came out yesterday,” M’Baku mumbled as his eyes scanned each word like it held a secret. Rada crawled onto the bed and pulled the book from his hand. He grumbled in protest until he looked up and saw what his gorgeous wife was wearing and his eyes lit up. Rada placed his book facedown on the nightstand and pulled off his reading glasses.

“I want to talk to you about something.”

“You do not look like you just want to talk,” he grumbled as he planted a kiss on her collarbone, making her giggle. His strong hands traveled up her thighs and rested on her hips, gripping her tight.

“I had to get your attention somehow.” Rada stroked the back of his neck and looked deep into his eyes.

“I am sorry, my love. What do you want to talk about.”

“Children.”

M’Baku’s eyebrows shot up, making his forehead crinkle as he blinked in surprise.

“Ok...what about them?” he asked, trying not to get his hopes up over where the conversation might lead.

“I know you have wanted to be a baba for a while now, and I appreciate you waiting for me to catch up,” she started. “But I think I am ready now.”

“You think, or you are? If you need more time-”

“No, I am sure...You have given me so much over the years, and I want to give you a child.”

Seconds passed as M’Baku just stared at his wife in awe. A goofy, gap-toothed grin slowly took over his face, but Rada could feel that he was excited in more than one way. His girthy member hardened beneath her, and she knew she was in for it tonight.

“That is the sexiest thing you have ever said to me,” M’Baku growled into her neck as he peppered it with kisses. “When do you want to start?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment, and he paused his assault on her neck to watch her wheels turn. However, he didn’t have to wait long. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted it as soon as possible. “How about now?”

M’Baku’s already blinding smile stretched from ear to ear, and a deep rumbling erupted from within his chest. He flipped them over so that he laid on top of her and buried his face in her neck again, whispering in her ear between kisses.

“You want to have my baby?”

“Yes,” she giggled.

“Mmm.”

M’Baku’s hands roamed Rada’s body as he took in her scent. He couldn’t wait to feel her body changing as she grew his seed. He began salivating just thinking about her widening hips and growing belly. M’Baku’s fingers found their way between Rada’s legs, and she spread them wide to grant him access. He found her clit with ease, and she let out a low moan as he circled it slowly.

“I have been waiting for you to say that for years, Rada.”

“I know, I-” she began to apologize when he cut her off.

“Shhh, it is ok,” he pulled back to look her in her big doe eyes, “You needed to take your time...just like how I am going to take my time with you tonight.”

“Oh, really?” Rada teased with a smirk on her face.

“Mhm,” he nodded before pecking her lips softly. “And I am not pulling out, either.”

Rada bit her lip in excitement and wrapped her legs around his waist. It wasn’t often that she got to feel her husband release inside of her since they were trying to be careful, but she secretly loved when they slipped up. Despite her apprehension towards having children, Rada had always had a cum kink of sorts. She could orgasm just from the feeling of his dick pulsating inside her as he emptied himself into her warmth. Just the thought of it was enough to set her off, but now she would get to feel it without any fear. Rada was ready. She wanted it, and her husband was more than willing to give it to her.

“You can cum in me as much as you want, my chief.”

A deep growling erupted from M’Baku’s chest as he crashed his lips to hers, their tongues dancing together in a waltz they had perfected over the years. Rada’s hips bucked as she felt his thick fingers enter her, and she whimpered into M’Baku’s mouth as he slowly dragged them back and forth over her g-spot. Her hips wound against him as the palm of his hand stimulated her aching pearl, and just when she felt the dam about to break, he removed his fingers.

“M’Baku,” Rada whined, making him chuckle.

“What is it, pretty girl?”

“I want you inside me.”

“And you will get your wish. Be patient,” he whispered against her lips.

Rada rolled her eyes and poked out her lip in protest, but it just made him chuckle some more. He nipped at her lip before kissing down to her neck, making her shudder as his tongue brushed over her favorite spot. His hands traveled up her body and skillfully slid her lingerie up and over her head as his eyes landed on her supple breasts. His mind flashed to the image of them engorged with milk for their child, and before he knew it, his lips were wrapped around her erect nipples. Rada stroked the back of his head as he went back and forth between them, teasing with his tongue and lightly tugging with his teeth. M’Baku always paid special attention to her breasts, but this time felt different. It eventually clicked for Rada, and she decided to play along.

“They are going to get bigger, you know?”

“Mmmhm,” M’Baku groaned with a mouth full of titty.

“And you will have to share so I can feed our baby.”

A shockwave traveled down M’Baku’s body and straight to his hardening member as he longed to taste her. He sucked harder as though he were determined to pull milk from her, and Rada keened from the sensation. Her nipples were sensitive, and she almost came again, but he removed himself at the last second once more.

Rada’s breathing slowed as he kissed down her stomach, landing just below her belly button. M’Baku lightly dusted his fingers over her soft skin as he thought of the child they would make together. As if she could read his mind, Rada smiled softly and caressed his bearded cheek. Their eyes met, but no words were exchanged as he planted a soft kiss over her womb. His kiss was a “thank you” and a blessing all in one, and she felt the love radiating from where his lips touched her skin. It tingled, and the feeling expanded to cover her whole body as the warmth of his passion settled into her bones. Rada let out a sigh as he continued his descent to her treasure trove, and she jumped when she felt his mouth envelop her vulva. The flat of his tongue lapped up her juices as she squirmed, but he shot her a fierce warning glance, and she stopped moving immediately. M’Baku hated being disturbed when eating his favorite meal.

“Mmm, my chief,” Rada moaned, “I-I want to feel you ins-”

M’Baku slapped her inner thigh, and she yelped.

“Tell me what to do again, and I will be the only one getting a release tonight,” he mumbled with his lips dusting over her clit.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Now, be good for your chief so I can put this baby in you.”

M’Baku’s skilled tongue had Rada struggling to control herself. She tried her best to stay still, but he had to forcefully hold her legs open so his tongue could explore her folds. He brought her to the edge over and over but denied himself her sweet nectar.

“Baby,” Rada whined as tears fell from her eyes. “Please let me cum for you.”

M’Baku kissed her pussy one last time before crawling up her body and kissing her upper lips. Rada moaned at the sweet taste of her on his tongue and the wetness of his beard, but just as she began to lose herself, he pulled back. M’Baku could see the anger on her face, and it amused him.

“You made me wait three years for this day, and you think I am going to let you get what you want so easily? No. You cum with my dick inside you and nowhere else. Understood?”

“Yes, my chief,” she sighed in defeat.

“Good girl.” He kissed her again and looked deep into her chestnut eyes. “Now, are you ready for me?”

Rada nodded enthusiastically.

“I bet,” he snickered. “You think your pretty pussy can handle all I have to give?”

“Mmm, yes, chief M’Baku.”

A fire burned behind his eyes as he lined himself up with her entrance and pushed forward. She bloomed for him and enveloped him in her warmth, making him moan as he seated himself inside her. M’Baku stilled, allowing Rada to revel in the feeling of him stretching her walls. They stayed like that for a while, gazing lovingly into each others’ eyes and feeling the other’s soft skin beneath their fingertips. Moments passed before M’Baku started to grind his hips, stirring Rada’s insides as he wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You, mmm, you f-feel so good.”

“Because you fit me so well, my love.”

M’Baku withdrew his hips and thrust forward with such restrained power that Rada yelped and dug her nails into his back. He groaned at the feeling and thrust forward again and again, finding the perfect rhythm and playing her body like a drum.

“M’Baku-”

“Who?” he sneered as he sat up without missing a beat. He looked down at her body, tits bouncing around as he pounded into her, and smirked, “You forget yourself.”

“I’m-”

“Did I say speak?!” he roared, and Rada shook her head frantically. She tried to give him her best puppy-dog eyes, but he was immune in this state. Lustful fear clouded Rada’s face as she felt his large hand wrap around her throat, and M’Baku grinned darkly when he felt her contract around him. “You like that, huh?”

Rada could only nod as his precise strokes brought her to her limit.

“You want to cum. I can feel it,” M’Baku teased as he tightened his grip. Rada nodded again with her bottom lip between her teeth. She was trying her hardest not to make a sound, but he was determined to make her break his rules. “Why are you holding it? I said you could cum with me inside you, love. So cum on my fucking dick.”

He dug even deeper, and Rada’s body shook as she erupted all over him. Her constricting walls pulled her husband right along with her, and the moment he let go of her throat, she wailed. Rada could feel every pulsation as he emptied himself into her, and she wound her hips up against his to stimulate her clit. She came again, and M’Baku smiled down at her as she convulsed.

“There you go. Now, does that not feel better?”

Rada looked at him with uncertainty, and M’Baku realized she was waiting for permission.

“You may speak,” he ordered through a smug smirk.

“Thank you, my chief.”

“Mmm, for what?”

“For letting me cum.”

“And?”

“And for rewarding me.”

M’Baku leaned down and kissed Rada’s forehead.

“You are more than welcome, love. Now turn over,” he said with a slap to her thigh. He removed himself from her, still erect and dripping with their combined fluids, and watched in amusement as Rada’s face twisted up at the loss of contact.

Rada loved the sting of his palm against her skin and decided she wanted more. She knew M’Baku could be a very impatient man when he was in the mood, so to tease him a little, she took her time rolling over. Before she could even get on her side, Rada heard a deep bark and felt M’Baku’s heavy hand come down on her behind. She yelped at the pain, but the sensation was quickly replaced by that same heavy hand kneading her flesh.

“I know you are toying with me, Rada.”

“I would never,” she gasped.

Rada tried to hold in her giggles but failed at her attempt. Of course, M’Baku saw the way the corners of her mouth struggled to lay still, and he decided to give her something to laugh about. He flipped her onto her stomach and lifted her hips before delving deep inside her once more. This time, he took no prisoners, and Rada’s screams filled the air as he plowed into her. The smile never left her face as he slapped her ass repeatedly or when he grabbed her short coils and pulled her back flush against him. M’Baku’s length reached deep inside her from every angle, making the smile on her face a permanent fixture. However, he felt he could find a better use for her mouth.

“Vula,” he commanded, and she opened wide, sticking her tongue out as far as it could go. M’Baku snaked his two long fingers in her mouth, and she closed her lips around them, sucking them the way she would the thick appendage that was currently wrecking her insides. “Mmm, I love that you do not have a gag reflex anymore.”

Rada sucked even harder as his other hand squeezed her hip. M’Baku pulled his fingers out with a “pop” and immediately brought them down between her legs. Her moans grew louder as he toyed with her, and moments later, she released around him again. Rada’s body went limp and he let her fall to the bed, but he didn’t stop. He licked up her spine as he leaned over her spent form, making goosebumps appear on her skin.

“You are not tapping out on me, are you?”

“N-no, my chief, I- oooh, yes!” Rada screamed as he dropped his weight on her.

“Good. One more, then you get a break. Ok, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

M’Baku’s hips picked up the pace as she anchored herself to the sheets with her face almost completely buried in the soft pillows. His fingers intertwined with hers and she held onto him for dear life. Rada could tell he was close, so she lifted her hips just a little bit, and wound back on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Here it comes. You ready?” he growled in her ear, and the vibrations traveled straight to her pussy as she bit her lip and nodded.

“Give it to me.”

M’Baku fucked her through his orgasm, not letting up until he had finished filling her. He slowly ground his hips into hers as they came down from their high, and he rolled over to the side, taking her with him. They laid like that, cuddled up together and listening to each other breathe with his dick still pulsating inside her, for who knows how long. Eventually, the haze of lust lifted slightly, and M’Baku slowly pulled out of Rada, marveling at the sheer amount of his seed that slowly dripped out of her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and she turned around to face him.

“What is it?” Rada asked, then followed his line of sight down to her dripping pussy. “Fuck…”

She rolled over on her back and her eyes traveled to his dick. It was still hard and dripping with their cum, and Rada’s mouth began to salivate. He knew what she wanted, and watched as she scooted down the bed and began licking their juices from his impressive length. Slurps filled the air as she took him down her throat, determined to get every last drop.

“Mmm, suck it just like that,” M’Baku moaned as his fingers tangled up in her tapered curls. She smiled up at him, and his jaw clenched as he tried to control himself. He felt himself nearing the edge, and an idea struck him; he wasn’t going to waste a single drop. As soon as he felt the sensation rising within him, he pulled her off of him and pushed her back onto the bed, quickly climbing on top and entering her with such fervor that she cried out to the heavens. He made it just in time, and emptied himself into her depths as he strummed her clit. Rada’s overstimulated pussy couldn’t take it, and she was pulled right along with him.

M’Baku kissed all over her face and neck as their breathing slowed down once more.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.�� Rada pulled him into a passionate kiss, and they explored each others’ mouths for a moment before he tore his lips away from hers.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he rested his forehead on hers.

“You are more than welcome, my love.”

As usual, M’Baku pulled himself from her, and got up to go run a bath, but this time he just stood there, taking in her form.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, but her concerns quickly went away when a small smile appeared on his lips.

“Boy or girl?”

Rada stood and held his face in her hands, staring deep into his eyes.

“That does not matter to me. All that matters is that they are made with love.”

“That they will be.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead before taking her hand in his and leading her to the bathroom.

Rada sat on the edge of the tub and let her mind wander while she halfway watched him fill it with bath salts and warm water. She couldn’t help but picture M’Baku and their child. He would probably be the type to talk to her belly before they even made it into the world, and when they got here she had no doubt that their baba would be overprotective. No matter what, though, she knew he’d love their child more than anything in this world, and that brought her peace as her eyes wandered to her reflection again. She pictured herself pregnant with his undoubtedly big-headed baby and knew she had made the right choice. It was time for them to start a family.

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @devnicolee, @muse-of-mbaku

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Childhood Friends

ShinoMitsu Week 2022 Day Five

A/N: So for this I’ve got Shinobu at 4 years old so Mitsuri would be about 5 and Kanae 7. I think the Kochou girls were a a handful of years older than that when they lost their parents, but I wanted Shinobu and Mitsuri younger so they wouldn’t quite remember each other in present time. The reference for this illustration is from this art from the manga that is so cute, it makes me want to cry. Some angst, ends happy. Hope you like it! Word Count: ~3,100

“Hello? Helloooooo?” Mitsuri called, her little fists banging against the doorframe of the large house. When the door slid open, she looked up and grinned at the man who came into view, showing off the newest gap her baby tooth had left behind.

“Oh hello, Mitsuri-chan. Do your parents know you were planning on coming over this time?” Kochou Kazumi asked, teasing the little girl about the incident a week ago when she had come over without informing her parents, leaving the young Kanroji couple in near hysterics.

“I told them this time! I promise! Can Kana-chan and Shii-chan come out to play?”

“They’re helping their mother right now, but they should be done soon. You’re welcome to wait inside.”

“Thank you!” Mitsuri bounded into the house, sliding along the polished wood.

“Shii-chan, Kana-chan, Oba-san, Good morning!”

“Good morning, Mitsuri-chan.” Kochou Hana greeted, sending the little girl a warm smile before focusing her attention back on Shinobu. “Darling, let me help you crush those herbs, please.”

“I do it myself!” Shinobu grumbled, pulling the mortar and pestle closer to her chest.

“Kaa-san, is this good?” Kanae asked, sliding her bowl over to her mother. While Hana looked the paste over, Kanae turned to Mitsuri and waved excitedly.

“Yes dear, well done! Clean up and then you can go play with Mitsuri.”

“Yay!”

“I want to play with Mitsu-chan too!” Shinobu declared, almost affronted that her mother hadn’t let her go yet.

“We have to finish crushing these dried herbs first, darling. Will you let me help you?”

Shinobu looked between the pestle in her hand and her big sister giggling with Mitsuri and pouted, begrudgingly allowing her mother to help. Hana’s hand covered Shinobu’s and they worked together to grind the herbs to dust.

“God job, Shinobu!” Hana clapped. Shinobu grinned at the praise and hardly put up a struggle when her mother helped her down from her stool.

Little legs strained against the confining fabric of their clothes as Shinobu waddled over to Mitsuri and hugged her tightly. Mitsuri was easily her favorite kid besides her own sister. Mitsuri always made an effort to make her feel included. Shinobu’s lack of athleticism and short stature (even for a four year old), often led to older kids around the neighborhood picking on her. Having her big sister and Mitsuri at her side always made Shinobu feel like she could take on the world.

“Don’t go too far. Remember to stay away from the river.” Kazumi said. He watched the girls sit on the engawa, smiling fondly as Kanae helped Shinobu put on her geta.

“We’ll be careful Tou-san!” Kanae assured, she hopped down with Mitsuri, then watched Shinobu slide on her tummy until the tips of her toes finally found the ground. “Come on, let’s go!”

The trio took turns chasing each other finally tumbling into a giggly heap surrounded by a meadow of wildflowers. In near perfect sync, Shinobu and Kanae started plucking the blooms, weaving the flower stems together with nimble little fingers.

“What are you doing?” Mitsuri asked. She was mesmerized by how quickly they worked.

“Making flower crowns.” Kanae explained, handing her short chain to Mitsuri. “Give it a try!”

Mitsuri leaned in closer to Shinobu, watching her weave, once she thought she got the pattern down, she focused on trying to add to the chain Kanae had given her. The task proved easier said than done.

“Oh no,” Mitsuri sniffled, she couldn’t figure out how to add to the chain and the flowers that were already woven began to unravel and fall to the ground.

“Mitsu-chan, here!”

Mitsuri looked up and gasped in elation. In Shinobu’s hand was the beautiful flower crown she had been making while Mitsuri struggled.

“Really? For me, Shii-chan?”

“Yes! Put it on like this.” Shinobu gestured to the one Kanae had put on her head. The elder Kochou sister was a flower crown champion. She was already finishing up another to put on her own head. She made the others giggle when she adjusted the crown to sit lopsided on her head.

“Thank you!” Mitsuri gently took the crown and put it on her head. “How do I look?”

“Like a Princess!” Shinobu exclaimed, “You always look very pretty, Mitsu-chan.”

Kanae agreed and Mitsuri clapped her hands and bounced on her knees. She told the sisters they looked just as wonderful. They continued to play for hours, only going back to the house for lunch before running right back outside and playing until the sky was tinged orange and pink. Mitsuri had promised her parents to be back before nightfall, so she hugged Kanae and Shinobu goodbye.

“Can we play again tomorrow?” Shinobu asked, her tone brimming with hope and anticipation for the next day.

“I hope so! I’ll ask my parents when I get home. If I can’t, I’ll see if I can just say hello.”

“Be safe on your way home!” Kanae waved.

“I will! You too!”

***

The next morning Mitsuri woke up a little later than usual. She stretched and yawned, got dressed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. As she walked to the kitchen, she could hear her parents whispering. The tone of their voices caused Mitsuri’s steps to faulter and her brow creased with worry.

“What are we going to tell her? It’s just too awful. She’s too young to hear about such things.” Her mother said.

“She’s always off with those girls. You think she’s just going to forget them? Better she hears it from us than those gossips in town.” Her father gruffly replied before releasing a tired sigh. “It’s just not right. They were such good people.”

“Kaa-san, Tou-san? What are you talking about?” Mitsuri trembled, making herself known. She didn’t know why yet, but judging from her parents tone, something really bad happened and it scared her.

“Mitsuri,” Kanroji Aika swallowed thickly, “come sit, I made your favorite breakfast. We have… something important to tell you.”

“What’s wrong?” Mitsuri didn’t budge from the hallway. They did the same thing when her grandmother died six months ago. Whatever they had to say, it was serious.

“Mitsuri,” Kanroji Kenji knelt before his daughter, his eyes held a sorrow that made Mitsuri’s heart ache, “something… something terrible happened to the Kochou Family last night.” He paused, giving his words a chance to soak in, “A bad man came and hurt them. Your friends are okay, but they have to live somewhere else now. Do you understand?”

“Where are they going to live? Here?” Mitsuri’s breathing picked up in pace, she was growing more upset the more she thought about it.

“No honey, they’re going somewhere rather far away.”

“I need to go say goodbye!” Mitsuri took a step backwards.

“They’re already gone, dear. I’m sorry.” Kenji reached out for Mitsuri, but she turned tail and ran away.

“Mitsuri, come back!” Aika yelled. The sound caused the toddler in her arms to startle and wail. With the little boy in her arms and being as heavily pregnant as she was, she could only hope her husband could catch her on his own. “Kenji!”

“I know!” He was already getting back up on his feet and running towards the direction Mitsuri took off in. “Mitsu, please, don’t go!”

Mitsuri just kept running, losing her father in the mid-morning crowd. She followed the path she seemed to know better than any other and squirmed through the group on onlookers and tripped, catching herself on the edge of the engawa. She looked up, unable to fully comprehend the chaos before her.

Doors ripped from walls, glass and shredded paper littered the torn tatami floor. She tried to peer deeper inside the house, she saw lumpy sheets, puddles of red… and then a hand covered her eyes and pulled her back.

“You shouldn’t look kid, nasty stuff. Come on, where are your parents?”

Mitsuri felt herself being led away through the crowd. Finally the hand lifted from her eyes and she realized that the man who pulled her away was an older gentleman, a law enforcer or detective of some kind.

“Mitsuri!” Kenji called out, relieved. He pulled her into his arms and picked her up. “Thank you sir, I apologize for the trouble.”

“It’s alright. It’s a hard day for us all. Best damn medicine makers this side of the mountains. Hate to see good people lost like that,” the detective dug in his pocket and presented a handful of yen, “Here, buy the kid something sweet, on me.”

“I couldn’t possibly—“

“Please, I insist.” The detective wouldn’t hear it, curling Kenji’s fist around the cash before heading back to the crime scene. He began shooing the crowd away. “Alright, alright! Show some respect! I don’t care where you all go, but you can’t stay here!”

Kenji did as the man asked and found a small sweets shop on the way home. Mitsuri was too upset to pick anything out herself, so he randomly pointed at some sakura mochi and bought as much as the handful of yen could get him.

“Here Mitsu, try some. Aren’t you hungry?”

As distraught as Mitsuri was, she did feel very hungry. She took the ball from her father and gave a tentative bite. After chewing on it for a bit, she shoved the rest in her mouth and shyly presented her hand, hoping for more.

When they got home, Aika scolded Mitsuri for running off. She had made her so worried! The rest of the day was quiet. After dinner, Mitsuri’s parents tucked her into bed and wished her good dreams, sliding the door shut behind them. Mitsuri laid in the darkness, while clutching her flower crown to her chest, she wept.

***

Fourteen Years Later

“Today’s the day, Kanroji! Aren’t you excited?” Kyoujirou thumped Mitsuri hard on the back a couple of times as he laughed, “I am so proud of you!”

“Thank you, Rengoku-san!” Mitsuri trembled, trying to stay upright with Kyoujirou’s powerful backblows. She was so nervous! Her first Pillar Conference!

She followed Kyoujirou into the Master’s garden and tried to subtlety take in the other Hashira. It was so nerve-wracking to be close to people so strong! She had already made a bit of a fool out of herself in front of the Serpent Hashira by getting lost. Luckily, he was very nice to her and even gave her these pretty socks! Although Mitsuri was fortunate with that encounter, she didn’t want to push her luck. Her plan was to stick to the wall and try not draw too much attention to herself, but Kyoujirou had other ideas.

“Come on, Kanroji! Come stand over here by Kochou!” He yelled, bringing everyone’s eyes on the both of them. He pushed a rigid Mitsuri into position next to the shorter woman. “Kochou, Kanroji Mitsuri. Kanroji, Kochou Shinobu. I hope you two will get along! I am going to go stand over there now! Bye!” He turned on his heel and left the two women alone.

“Um, hello.” Mitsuri stuttered, her hands clasped tightly together. She had heard a bit about Shinobu from Kyoujirou, and had even been treated by her in the infirmary a couple times, but the woman never failed to give her butterflies.

“Hello,” Shinobu greeted Mitsuri like a breeze, “congratulations on making Hashira. Rengoku-san always speaks of you fondly. It may be a little intimidating at first, but you’ll come to find it isn’t so bad.” She smiled reassuringly.

“T- thank you! I will do my best!” Mitsuri felt her heart pick up in tempo at Shinobu’s smile and warm words. Something about Shinobu always felt so familiar, almost nostalgic. There was just something about her… Mitsuri passed over her form briefly to try to figure out what it was, but she was quickly distracted when she saw Shinobu’s uniform.

“Wah?! Kochou-san, why is your uniform normal? I thought all the girls wore this kind!” Mitsuri yelled, pointing at herself. Senjirou-kun was right to have been skeptical, that Kakushi was being creepy!

“Ah, he tried to give me that one too at first. I burned it right in front of his face!” Shinobu said, smiling while she produced a book of matches and a little vial of oil seemingly out of thin air, “Here, you can borrow these matches and oil if you wish.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind, thank you, Shinobu-chan.” Mitsuri froze as soon as she processed her own words, she saw Shinobu’s look of mild surprise and blanched. “I- I mean, Kochou-san! Sorry! I— sorry!” Was she really messing up so soon?! Sure she was older, but Shinobu has been a Hashira longer than she has.

But then Shinobu giggled, the sound brought Mitsuri back to that place somewhere in the back of her mind, but she had no time to chase that feeling.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. You can call me Shinobu if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Of course, I hope we can be friends.”

“Of course! Please call me Mitsuri!” Mitsuri bit her lip. What was it about Shinobu that made her just want to wrap her up in her arms, twirl her around and never let go? “Hey, Shinobu-chan, have we ever met before?”

“Besides when you have come into the infirmary? I don’t believe so… Ah, the Master will be arriving shortly. Maybe you’ll be the first to greet him on your first day.” Shinobu teased, lowering herself into the pebbles.

“I don’t know about that!” Mitsuri squeaked, joining Shinobu on the ground. Just the idea alone made her head spin. She would have to drop the topic for now. She had to focus on the Master’s arrival.

***

Shinobu was surprised at how quickly she and Mitsuri had hit it off. She thought it was inevitable that they would gravitate towards each other as the only female Hashira, but she didn’t expect to make time in her schedule to meet up outside of work regularly. Being as married to her work as Shinobu was, she was surprised that she put as much time and effort as she did into spending time with Mitsuri. There was just something about her that drew Shinobu in. There was the obvious things, her warmth, her radiance, kindness, strength, and it didn’t hurt that she was very cute to boot. However, there was something vaguely familiar about her glowing smile and eyes the color of spring. Perhaps it was just because of how much of Kanae she saw in Mitsuri, that was what Shinobu believed to be the most logical reasoning.

“Ready to go, Shinobu-chan?” Mitsuri asked, pulling Shinobu from her musings. In her arms, Mitsuri held a rolled up blanket and two wicker baskets.

“I’m ready, here,” Shinobu offered her hand, fully expecting Mitsuri to give her a basket to carry.

Mitsuri looks down at her arms, pondering, then she decided to hold the two baskets in her left hand and slide the blanket in the spot between her left arm and her ribs. With her right hand now completely free, she took Shinobu’s offered hand in her own.

Not what Shinobu expected, but she rolled with it. She didn’t want to embarrass the poor girl by clarifying what she had meant. Besides, the way Mitsuri’s hand almost completely swallowed hers up and warmed her fingers was quite enjoyable.

“I can’t believe you live so close to such a beautiful field. Do you really not come here often?” Mitsuri asked as they ascended the hill.

“Only to pick herbs or other plants to introduce to the garden. It’s a lovely spot, but rather out of the way.” She didn’t mention how the spot was Kanae’s favorite, that being there without her left her feeling somewhat hollow. She didn’t like to come here alone, but with Mitsuri she could bear it.

Once at the top of the hill, Mitsuri set down the baskets and let go of Shinobu’s hand (unfortunately) and spread out the blanket. She maneuvered the baskets where she wanted them and when she was satisfied, she motioned Shinobu to sit with her.

Mitsuri began unloading the various sweets she had made and explained each one to Shinobu as she went until the baskets were empty and food was spilling out of the boundaries of the blanket. While they ate, Shinobu told Mitsuri about the nearby plants that surrounded them. Although Mitsuri practically forgot the scientific names as soon as Shinobu uttered them, she thoroughly enjoyed hearing about their properties. She could listen to her talk about plants and medicine all day.

Somehow, Mitsuri had ended up with her head in Shinobu’s lap as she listened. Her eyes grew heavy and eventually closed. Soon, her rumbling snores met Shinobu’s ears and the Insect Hashira could not help but giggle quietly at the tuckered out girl. Shinobu found herself humming, pushing back Mitsuri’s bangs and running her fingers through them. Then her eyes began to wander upon the wildflowers once more.

When Mitsuri awoke, the sky above her was the color of flames.

“Ah! How late is it?” She bolted upright, nearly knocking Shinobu’s chin with her forehead in the process. “I’m sorry, Shinobu! I’ve wasted so much time!”

“On the contrary, I’ve had a wonderful time. No need to apologize. I had plenty to entertain myself while you rested.

“Hm?” Mitsuri felt something sliding off her head and gently took hold of it and brought it to her face. In her hands was a expertly crafted flower crown.

“Mitsuri, what’s wrong?” Shinobu asked, slowly reaching out to touch Mitsuri’s knee. Her expression one of concern.

Mitsuri wasn’t quite sure what Shinobu meant at first, but then she felt hot tears gathering and smearing down her cheeks. Wiping them away with an awkward laugh she said, “I don’t know… I guess it’s because this is really pretty. I’ve always wanted to make flower crowns, but I was never really able to do it right.”

“Here, let’s fill up these baskets with flowers and take them back to the estate. I’ll teach you how to make one even if it takes all night, or even the rest of our lives if I must, okay?” Shinobu promised.

Shinobu knew it was impractical. She’d never offer such a thing to anyone else, but Mitsuri was often an exception to her rules. To see Mitsuri smile at her like that, to be tackled to the blanket in a hug like warm vanilla, she hadn’t felt so close to home in a long time.

[xxiamtiebrousxx]

Chapter 4 "The Plan B" (The Gentleman and the Assassin | CBS x Reader x Gentle Spy)

A/n: You do not want to know what was going through my head while writing this.

I stood outside of the car, leaning against it. The rain poured down on me. My hands and legs were tied with duct tape. VERY thin duct tape. Mike always carried cheap ninety nine cent tape, declaring it as cheap and sturdy. It was just cheap.

“So, how do ‘ou suggest we get the car operating?” the spy asked the assassin.

“How am Oi supposed to know!” Christian spat. “You’re the bloody bloke who said Oi should’ve cut the lines!”

“I thought you said it was you who thought of it,” I replied. “You said that you were such a genius.” Christian glared at me. I simply shrugged. “Your words, not mine.”

“Oi can get more tape if you need it,” he said. “It’ll keep those pretty lips shut tight.” There was some silence, then I popped my lips together.  “I mean it!” he growled.

“Christian, we need a plan,” Gentle said, grabbing his attention and shoulder. “Now, if I recall correctly, the engineer kept his tools in the garage. I could go get it and we could work with what we have.”

“Gent, Oi can’t fix it myself,” Christian replied. “You can’t fix it either.” The men looked at me. 

“What?” I asked. 

“How machine-tech savvy are you?” Christian asked. I pressed my lips into a thin line, recalling those days in the car workshop. A Tesla may or may not have been blown up when I still went to that class. “On a scale of one to ten? One,” I simply answered. “I suck at it. A car went up in flames because of me and my first model.”

“But you can fix it, non?” Gentle asked. I scoffed.

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?!?” I exclaimed. “I can make combustible cars happen, not work.” Christian was in front and grabbed my collar, forcing me off my feet. The tape around my legs loosened and ripped.

“Would ya do it if your life depended on it, huh?!?” he growled. Up close, I could see that his incisors were sharper than the average tooth. His teeth grinded together and his beard scratched my chin. His eyes were red as blood. 

He was way too close if I could see his details. Although, I’ll admit, his sideburns made him look kinda cute, yet intimidating.

“Christian, let her go,” Gentle said. “She’ll do it whether she likes it or not.”

“Men, I’ll never understand them,” I muttered as Christian put me down.  I dusted myself down. 

“Oi’ll retrieve the tool box, you stay here and watch the girl,” he said.

“With pleasure,” Gentle answered. He grabbed my arm and threw me back into the car. 

“Keep the door open,” I said. “Don’t want the kids suffocating.”

“Oi’ll see you in five minutes,” Christian said. “And you, no funny business.” He pointed his finger at me like I was a dog that tore up the shoes.

“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Gentle said, jumping into the driver’s seat. He propped his legs up on the dash. The assassin nodded and walked into the woods. As soon as he was out of sight, I broke out of my sticky bonds.

“Let me just change this.” I leaned over from the back seat over to the dash. I turned on the radio and flipped it to my favorite channel.

“How did ‘ou get out?” Gentle asked, harshly grabbing my wrists. 

“Cheap tape,” I answered, struggling to break free. “Now if you let me go, I promise I won’t run away, I swear.” He let go, quite surprised. I could tell. His grayish blue eyes softened.

“Fine,” he said. “Just stay close or else.” I smirked, taking a seat next to him. He kicked his feet off the dash, knocking Olivia’s cell phone over. “What’s this?” Gentle picked it up, but I quickly snatched the phone.

“It’s dead,” I rapidly said. Didn’t want him assuming it was charged.

“Are ‘ou sure?” Gentle reached the phone from my hand. 

“Hey, no touching!” I exclaimed, raising my hand higher. Our fingers came into contact. His gloved hands traced my fingers before taking the phone away. I blushed.

“Oi’m back.” Christian slammed the door open, scaring me. He threw the tool box onto my lap. “Get to work, roo,” he said. His cold, clammy hand grabbed my arm and Christian pulled me out of the car. I stumbled over my feet and nearly fell, but Christian caught me. I nearly slammed into his chest.

“Careful cherie,” Gentle said, getting out of the car. “Don’t want ‘ou getting hurt.” I looked down, embarrassed. The assassin pushed me away and I blushed. I was always so jittery around men. I was comfortable around Mike since he was my friend, so he didn’t count.

“Now what?” I asked nervously, grabbing the dropped box. 

“Get to work,” Christian replied. I gulped, setting down the tool box once more and rolling under the car. Now, if I had paid close attention in class, I would’ve learned how to fix a leak. “Roo, you’re gonna need this.” A gas can was pushed under the car. I grabbed it, sloshing it around. It was filled with gasoline.

“Where’d you get gas?” I asked.

“No questions asked,” Christian replied, bending down so I could see him. “Now use the wrench. It magically fixes everything.” I opened the tool box and took out the monkey wrench. With an unconfident swing, the wrench hit the line. A little bit of metal expanded a little. This was working. The rain began to flood the road as I worked. Metal, with every hit, began to patch up the line. 

“Christian, we should hurry,” I heard Gentle say. “It’s pouring harder by the second. I don’t want to get stuck in a flood.”

“Quit whining Spoi,” Christian spat. “The little roo will get it done.”

“But what if she can’t?” I scoffed. Of course I could do this! I was gonna prove those murderers wrong. I continued to hit the line, but eventually, it stopped working.

“Um, I’m out of supplies,” I said. “The wrench stopped working.” Christian ducked under, groaning. He had this look of disappointment on his face.

“Just get out,” he said. He grabbed my foot and dragged me from under the car. Gentle hoisted me up and onto his back.

“HEY!” I cried. “Put me down!!!” 

“No can do, cherie,” Gentle answered as he walked, Christian following behind. “We need to get home and if we’re walking, I’m carrying ‘ou.”

“I can walk on my own!” I exclaimed.

“Roo, you either do as we say or you’re gonna be left to drown!” Christian growled. I shut my mouth. 

What a lousy plan B.

[wille-zarr]

The Mandalorian: "Not to a Mandalorian’s Standards”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter Six ~ “Not to a Mandalorian’s Standards”

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated T for language; violence; angst

word count: 8.1k

chapter summary: you must make a challenging decision concerning your arrangement with din, but all is threatened when old dangers arise

story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: uwu

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter Six: “Not to a Mandalorian’s Standards”

“Tell you what, Starlight-” your father’s eyes twinkle down at you- “there’s no better place in the galaxy to make a tough decision than on the back of a speeder bike, going faster than your mother would ever approve.”

Great advice, Papa.

Too bad that advice is about to get you killed.

Though, you do have a slight suspicion that when he told you “fast”, he never meant quite this fast.

But then again, knowing your dad, maybe he did.

“Oh-” you reach up, wiggling your goggles down into position- “blast it.” Gritting your teeth tightly together, you accelerate the speeder bike, shooting over the dried desert landscape of Arvala-7. 

The cool evening air prickles the exposed parts of your face like a thousand sharp needles sinking into your skin, but the discomfort doesn’t distract you. You stare straight ahead, focused only on the tangled thoughts rolling back and forth in your brain in a jumbled, glued-together mess.

“Running away? You’re good at that.”

Faster. Faster.

If you could just go faster, maybe the voices would fall behind, leave you alone.

You lean forward on the accelerator, pushing the speeder bike to its absolute limits. The old bike begins to vibrate under your body, rattling as if threatening to blow apart in a thousand pieces. If you were still that adrenaline-seeking teenager, you might would take that as a challenge.

But hey, you’ve cheated death this long. It’d be a shame to lose the game at this point…

That and Cara’s the last person you’d want to upset if you destroy her bike.

You notice a cliff-wall looming in the horizon, rapidly approaching at the speed with which you are traveling. With a sharp hiss, you slam on the brakes, bracing, squeezing your eyes tightly together as you spin around in tight circles. 

One…

Two...

Three…

Four spins.

You stop. 

You don’t fight the grin that stretches across your face.

“Banthaspit! Hell yeah.” You peel the goggles off your face, harshly rubbing your eyes with a dust-encrusted hand. “If I wasn’t forced into hiding, the Keolith racing circuit wouldn’t know what hit it!” you snort.

With a sigh, you kick one leg over the speeder bike, positioning your body sideways on the seat. You force yourself to slowly exhale, shivering as all of the tension pent up within you tiptoes its way up your spine, releasing out into the fresh open air.

A temporary relief. Your stress rushes back in droves to fill the void.

“All wound up. You’re all wound up,” you mutter under your breath, “for no reason!”

With a groan, you flop backwards … wildly flailing your arms as you fall back against the open air.

“YIPE!” you squeak, sliding right off the bike and landing back on the ground below with a sharp oof. Groaning pathetically, you rest your head back against the dirt. 

Well, at least no one saw that. 

You’re not sure how long you lie that way. Not long enough, if your opinion means anything. Eventually, you gather enough motivation to crack one eye open and grimace up at the darkening sky.

All of this- this melodrama! All because some Mandalorian warrior pinned you to the ground? With his body?!

…

Oh, shit.

A Mandalorian kicked your ass and called you a brat.

You’re done for.

Your face explodes into flames. You know yourself all too well… You crave the mysterious, the exciting… all of which your proximity to the curious, cryptic Mandalorian has brought you more than an abundance of.

You can no longer ignore the red flags ding-ding-dinging in your head.

Hell.

It would probably be a… bad idea… to travel in close quarters with the Mandalorian. Not with your overactive imagination working overtime hours. Besides, when you made the deal to travel with Din, you had no idea a child would be involved. 

Those dark, piercing eyes of the Mandalorian’s son appear before you, along with a pang, a squeeze in your chest. 

If…if a bounty hunter tracked you down on the Razor Crest- the child… he could be hurt and…and-

Grinding your teeth, you dig your nails into the palms of your hands until you are sure you must be drawing blood.

No. Never again.

You need to talk with Din.

You know what you must do.

-------

Pulling back up to the homestead, you are met by a herd of stampeding whomp rats, also known as the Sorgan children.

“She’s back!”

“Hello!”

“We’ve been looking for you!”

“Whoa, whoa-” you toss your hands up- “One at a time, will ya?” You crack a grin. “I haven’t been this popular since a Hutt promised me his eternal love.”

“Huh?” 

“What’s a Hutt?”

“Ah,” you laugh, kicking your leg over the speederbike, “I’m only joking.”

“Look, Ms. Cara, she’s back with your speederbike!”

You tear your eyes upwards, inwardly cringing as you watch Cara approaching.

“Um, look, Cara,” you laugh, rubbing your arm up and down. “I-I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your bike, um…”

Cara crosses her arms, eyeing you with a pointed expression.

Oh, Hutt fudge.

“You wouldn’t hurt me in front of children!” You bounce back, placing the bike between you and Cara, ignoring the children’s shrieks of laughter.

Cara takes a few steps forward, inspecting her speederbike with a few brief glances. “I suppose it’s still in one piece… You sure left in a hurry.” Rubbing her hands across the handlebars, she continues inspecting the bike. “Didn’t have a chance to finish your self-defense lesson with Mando.”

Maker!

For the love of all that is holy, Cara-

“Wait-” she smirks- “are you blushing?”

KARKING HELLS!

“I’m. not. blushing.” you hiss through your teeth. 

“She’s turning RED!” Birdie shrieks.

“But why?” Winta asks. “I’m confused.”

“I’m not!” Your voice cracks along with your composure.

Blast you, Cara!

If Cara wasn’t capable of twisting you up like a Bothanian Pastry, you’d have some choice words right about now.

“It’s red from-from racing this bike against the wind- is all!” You knit your brows and cross your arms tightly across your chest. “Come on, kids-” you wave your hand to the side, your strained voice giving yourself away- “I’m… I’m sure your parents don’t want you out after dark.”

“I’m so confused.” Winta sighs, trotting towards the huts with the five other children marching along behind her.

Birdie pauses behind the rest. Finally, he twists around and races back to you. Throwing his arms around your legs, he grins up at you with his adorable little missing-tooth smile, turning your heart to mush.

“See you at the bonfire!” As quickly as he threw his arms around you, he spins around and dashes away.

“Bonfire?” You raise an eyebrow at Cara.

“Yeah,” she sits back against the seat of her bike, checking over the instrument gages. “The villagers’ idea.” Cara flashes you a quick glance. “They always do this when a visitor arrives, me or Din. I do have to say, for a bunch of country folk-” Cara smirks- “they sure know how to have fun.”

Celebration. Stars, you haven’t attended a party of any kind in months! Parties were usually a thing of business for you on Nar Shaddaa. A way to make connections, play politics, earn some extra cash- whatever. The point is, they were rarely enjoyable. At times, they were downright miserable.

Maybe that association will change tonight. Yes. Yes, you will have fun; you will relax. No use getting all worked up over the conversation you must have with Din tonight…

Which is easier said than done.

“Well,” you sigh, throwing both hands on your hips and meandering away, “guess I better get cleaned up then.” You let your eyes sweep the homestead yard, noticing, sure enough, a bonfire is being constructed several yards away from Kuill’s hut. But more importantly-

No sign of Mando, thank the stars.

You aren’t prepared to face him just yet after that, um, tussle earlier…

“Sorry about giving you a hard time.”

You twist back around at Cara’s voice.

“At least, I’m sorry for doing it in front of little ears.” Cara shrugs, but she is hardly hiding the amusement etched in her eyes.

You snort. “Don’t lie.” Rolling your eyes, you spin around, marching determinedly towards Kuill’s hut. “See you tonight.”

-------

“YIPE!”

“Look, I’m sorry!” 

“Fu-… uh, um, I mean, stars!” You clutch your scalp, wincing against the relentless barrage of brush strokes. You hear a snort from behind where you sit.

“You don’t exactly sound sorry, Omera.” You tilt your head backwards to find Omera, a hand on one hip, a brush in the other, shaking her head in defeat.

“I think the easiest option-” Omera angles her head to the side- “would be to just cut out the tangled bits.” 

“Kriff,” you whisper under your breath, absent-mindedly tightening the bathrobe Omera lent you around your waist. “Well, still better than another twenty minutes of this torture.” You pout your lips like a child. 

“Why is it so tangled?”

Twisting around in the chair, your eyes find Winta in the corner of the room, braiding her hair with a dark green ribbon. 

“Eh-” you toss her a smirk- “I don’t think you’re ready to hear about Taek just yet.”

“Hmf.” Omera grunts. “Would this Taek story also explain why one side of your hair is a good bit shorter than the other?” You feel Omera’s fingers rake through the ends of your hair, tugging when they reach a tangle. “Look at that! It’s a good three inches shorter!”

A bright grin stretches across your face. “No, that’s a different story altogeth- OUCH!”

“Sorry!” The amusement in Omera’s voice is thinly veiled. “Get my scissors, Winta.”

“Bloody hells, Omera!” you hiss under your breath. “Why does everyone here take such enjoyment in tormenting me?” You lower your brow when you are met with a melody of snickers. 

“What,” Omera laughs, “have the children been giving you a tough time? Or Cara? Din?”

Din.

You could really use your own Beskar helmet right about now. You feel the entirety of the blood in your body blast up to your face, radiating warmth at just the mere mention of his name. 

It’s like the longer you avoid him, the more embarrassed you grow.

Tucking your face under the collar of the bathrobe, you are met with the sharp rap of scissors against your head.

“Hey!”

“Head up. Do you want straight hair?”

“Not if you’re going to keep doing that!” You crinkle your nose. “Have you even cut hair before?”

“No.”

“Maker!”

At the threat of being smacked with scissors again, you decide it is your best bet to remain perfectly still. Silently listening as Omera and Winta rattle off about what she should wear to the bonfire and what games the children could play, you feel the tension drain off your shoulders. It sounds just like a conversation you and your mother might have had once… The air grows thick, and you let your eyes slip closed, breathing deeply, imagining the room you sat in was that of your Sularian home… 

A tug on your sleeve from a little hand rips you out of your reverie. 

“What are you going to wear?”

“Hmm?... What? Oh.” You blink, struggling to gain back your composure. Your eyes focus in on the little face in front of you. 

“Um, I guess what I always wear,” you sigh. “…Don’t have any other clothes.” A teasing smirk tickles at the corner of your mouth. “A krayt dragon ate them all up.”

Winta bursts into giggles. “It did not!” 

“Nah, maybe not.”

“You could wear a dress of mine.” Omera interjects.

“Really?” Your eyes widen in delight. “Um, I- uh, could I have one with sleeves?”

Better safe than sorry… You can’t risk questions about your forearm tattoos. Besides, if 

Cara and Din recognized them… things would turn, no doubt, a wee bit awkward.

“Of course! And just in case you wanted to-” Omera’s voice takes on a knowing tone- “Din and Cara will be heading into the nearest outpost tomorrow to buy up supplies before Cara heads off.” Her voice softens. “You could go along with them and buy anything you nee-”

“Blaster,” you yank around in the chair, ignoring the yelp of frustration from Omera. “Need one like-” you frown- “yesterday.”

“Fine, fine.” Omera lowers her brows. “Now, please, could you just keep your head straight?”

“Haven’t I been?”

-------

You step out of the protective darkness of Kuill’s home, grinning brightly to discover the homestead yard bounding with life. The flames of the bonfire dance, bobbing back and forth from one log to another, casting a flickering golden haze over everything in its vicinity. Chairs and colorful blankets are spread out, circling the fire. Smiling, you watch with delight as the children race around underfoot, their parents shooing them away from the tables overflowing with food. 

Speaking of food, the wafting scent of it carries along with the light nighttime breeze, triggering your stomach into growling like a Rancor. With a wistful sigh, you begin to walk forward. 

But, oh dear.

To get to the food, you must pass by Kuill, Cara, and Din, who’s standing against the wall of a hut, his armor gleaming reflected golden light. You don’t think they’ve noticed you… yet.

Stars, stars, stars! You haven’t prepared a mask for this. You aren’t ready to face him!

Gulping a deep breath of air, you rip your eyes away, pretending to be otherwise occupied with the starry sky. 

Blast it all! How could you have been so manipulative, so charismatic on Nar Shaddaa and yet fail so miserably now? 

Damn, you’re out of practice!

Carefree.

Confident.

Yeah, that’s what you’ll be. With a sharp nod of the head, you settle for a self-assured expression, hoping it’d be a solid enough cover, at least strong enough to resist any ribbing from Cara.

You instinctively reach up to your brow line to grab at what would have been your hat brim to lower it. Cringing, you stare at your open fingers. You really miss the protection of the hat… You feel… vulnerable without it.

Again, you’re beginning to more and more understand the appeal of a helmet. 

“Wait, look!” One of the voices of the children interrupts your stride. “She looks like a mom!”

“Hey,” you snort, crossing your arms, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

 Your eyes widen with an unease only children with no filter are capable of eliciting as they corral you, inspecting your new appearance with an intense, terrifying scrutiny.

“Stars!” You back up a bit. “It’s just a skirt! Please be kind!” you chuckle and kneel down, ruffling up the hair of the littlest boy. Your face softens as you take note of the Mandalorian’s son peeking at you from behind the children, a bit shyer than the rest. Smiling, you give him a little wink, stealing a little grin out of him.

“Enjoy their fascination while it lasts.” Omera chuckles as she walks up, resting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “They shower new people with attention until another new face shows up and steals the spotlight. Din was the favorite until you arrived.”

“So then, I stole you guys from the Mandalorian, did I? I’m cooler than a Mandalorian!” You chuckle with the kids as you stand back up. You tighten the knot on the front of your blouse, uncomfortable with a sudden sensation of being watched. 

You know, you can just feel, that the Mandalorian is staring at you.

Oh hells.

“But-” Birdie frowns, tugging on your skirt- “you can’t fight in that!”

“Fight?” You jerk your head back, trying to make sense of his words. “You planning to fight me or something?”

Giggles.

“No, Kelsa saw you with Cara. Said she beat you up. We all wanted to watch.”

“Yeah… well.” You feel your cheeks flame when a bark of laughter reaches your ears. 

“Cara!” you shout, spinning around on your heel and staring daggers in her direction.

“Sorry!”

You are about to shoot off a snotty reply when your eyes are drawn, magnetized to the singeing glare of the Mandalorian’s visor. You instantly shut your mouth. 

He stares you down, arms crossed in a relaxed manner, as he leans up against the wall beside where Cara sits. You suddenly feel very, very small.

Oh… Stars.

You frown at Din, shifting your eyes away from him. You immediately slip back into your carefully crafted persona, shaking off your unease. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been much of a fighter.” You twist around and face the children. “I’m… not very strong, much like you lot.” You sigh, pointing a finger at yourself. 

You carefully tiptoe through your words. “I’ve busted my nose, broken bones, dislocated my shoulder-” you motion to each of these areas- “trying to fight with these.” Lifting both of your hands up, you clench them into fists. 

Feeling a sly smile tickling at the corner of your mouth, you continue. “I think you’ll find the best fighter-” you let the smile grow- “uses this.” Pointing at your head, you chuckle and cross your arms.

“That’s fine and all-” Birdie frowns- “but I don’t see how your head could defeat the Mandalorian’s rocket dart things in a fight.”

“Rocket… darts?” You gulp. The things he hides in that armor... You steal a glance over at Din.  His head is angled in that curious manner, watching your interaction with the children with great interest. You tear your gaze away, fearing your face would warm if you stared any longer.

“She means using your smarts, silly!” Winta groans.

“She is correct.” The new voice in the conversation belongs to Kuill. Grunting with exertion, he hobbles along with his cane to join the circle. The children immediately fall silent, listening reverently to the wise Ugnaught.

“Fighting isn’t everything.” Your face grows solemn with the respect that Kuill seems to elicit anytime he speaks. “Sometimes,” he grunts, “the most dangerous power… is held by the smallest among us.”

The way everyone sneaks glances with each other, you can’t help but feel everyone is in on a secret behind Kuill’s words. Discomforted, you clear your throat, letting your lazy outer rim accent slide forward. 

“Gotta secret weapon, Kuill?”

Kuill’s chuckle is interrupted by a frowning Birdie. 

“Maybe…” Birdie whines. “But we still wanted to watch a fight.”

You snort. “Stars, these kids are bloodthirsty.”

“Maybe if we asked politely, children,” Kuill grunts, “the Mandalorian would showcase some of his fighting prowess for us.”

The children burst into pleas and cheers, turning every ounce of their attention to tormenting Din into obliging them.

“It would be-” Kuill motions his cane at Din- “our honor to observe.”

Flopping his head back against the wall, the Mandalorian stares up at the sky. You bite back a grin when you hear him release a heavy, long-suffering sigh, detectable even at a distance. 

“Stand back.”

The children and villagers fall silent, crowding together, as he shifts forward, stalking away from the building. Only the heavy clank, clank of his Beskar armor is audible, echoing in the thin night air. Everyone watches in anticipation, curious as to what the Mandalorian has in mind. 

Plopping down on a blanket spread out on the ground, you cross your legs underneath yourself. A light dusting of movement against your hand startles you forward a bit. You gasp lightly, mouth falling open, as the Mandalorian’s son, the baby, crawls up beside you.

“Oh. Hello,” you chirp, taking his little three-fingered hand into your palm. “Um, ready to watch your Papa show off?”

He responds with a giggle.

Those large expressive eyes… stars! You want to turn into a pool of sugary liquid right here, right on this blanket. 

Sweet face.

Sweet laugh.

The dagger twists in your heart. Grasping onto the necklace around your neck, you swallow hard, squeezing your eyes tightly together before opening them again.

You can’t think about her right now… not without losing it. 

As if sensing your turmoil, the baby’s ears droop to the side.

“Don’t mind me,” you mumble. You take the baby into your arms, squeezing lightly. “L-let’s watch.” 

You watch as Din freezes a good distance from the bonfire. “Cara,” he shouts with a wave. 

You bite your lip, bursting with excitement when you see he has that big-ass rifle of his at the ready. He rests it pointing downwards, angling his head towards Cara as he crosses his gloved hands over the butt of the rifle.

You snicker.

Look at him. 

Trying so hard to look bored. You know good and well he is thrilled to show off for everyone. You’ve seen his bathroom. Any man that uses as many hair conditioners as him would have to be a secret show-off.

Not to mention his sparkling, eye-catching Beskar.

“Diva,” you snicker under your breath.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the start of the show.

“Toss!”

Cara heaves back, launching something small and round into the air.

Din pulls back. 

Rifle to shoulder. 

Aim.

Blast.

A thousand sparkling, rainbow-colored lights rain down out of the night sky from the explosion, just like fireworks. You passively join the clapping and cheering, smirking to yourself as the Mandalorian continues raining sparkling shots in the sky as quickly as Cara can throw them.

You glance downwards, sharing a knowing look with the baby.

Yup.

Dad’s definitely a show-off.

You think he agrees.

After several minutes of this display, Din has adequately appeased the children’s lust for excitement and entertainment. Omera and the other two pairs of parents shoo the children towards the awaiting food. You watch from a distance as Din unloads his gun, striding towards Cara.

With a sigh, you stand, holding the baby against your chest, smiling softly when Winta motions to take him.

“I’ll take him to Momma.” Winta chirps. “I can feed him!”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. Pretty sure I had his stomach growling,” you chuckle, throwing Winta and the baby a quick wink.

You clasp your hands tightly together behind you and walk over to the side of Kuill’s hut shrouded in dark shadow. A longing smile faintly brushes across your lips as you watch the commotion centered around the tables of food. Sighing wistfully, you lean your shoulder up against the wall of the hut.

This is the closest you’ve been to recreating your childhood peace in years…

There’s a part of you that wants to ask if you could hang around for a bit... But the child you used to be on those snow-covered mountains is long-gone. You cannot replace what you have lost, what’s been taken.

Besides, you would only bring danger to these people if you stayed.

You have to move on.

The clank, clank of metal rips you out of your deep introspection. You spin around on your heel, unease building in your chest as the Mandalorian strides towards you, his rifle resting carelessly across his arms.

Okay. Okay. Don’t blush. Um, just… try not think about him on top of you.

Wait, that sounded bad. KRIFF. Now you’re surely blushing!

QUICK. SABBAAC FACE.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to focus on the present. As he moves closer, you didn’t need to see his face to know that a smug expression graced his face. You could see it in his stride.

Smirking, you cross your arms and lift your chin at him. 

“Not too shabby, Din.” You raise an eyebrow when he stops to stand beside you, letting his weapon flip to rest the end of it on the ground. “You handle that big-ass rifle pretty well, I’d say.”

He grunts, rolling his shoulders forward, only enhancing his intimidating presence that much further. Leaning against the weapon, he tilts his head sideways to stare down at you. 

“Pulse rifle,” Din rumbles, amusement lacing his tone. “And as I said before, you handled my rifle pretty well yourself, Ka’r’ika.” 

“But certainly-” you lower your eyebrows- “not to a Mandalorian’s standards.”

“Nope.” He jerks his head to the side.

“Ah well!” You sigh and throw your arms out. “Well, then, were my fighting skills at least up to Mandalorian standards?” You bite your lip to resist the smirk tickling at the corners of your mouth.

A deep, raspy chuckle slips out from underneath his helm. He leans over you as he walks past.

“Depends on which Mandalorian you ask.”

Oh.

Oh Maker! 

MAKER!

TACTICAL ERROR!

Slapping a hand on your forehead, you spin around to rush away from the hut, deeper into the hidden darkness as you berate yourself for mindlessly flirting yet. again. You would have run off to escape again, but the wafting food lures you into turning around and staying. 

That, and you’re not about to steal Cara’s bike again.

With no Mando in sight, you grab a bowl of stew. Sneaking over to an unoccupied blanket beside Omera and Cara, you curl your legs up under yourself…

…And you practically bury your nose in the bowl to hide your face when Din sits beside you to be near his son. The baby gleefully reaches his little arms out for his father who takes over feeding him.

Kriff! How could this evening get any more awkward!

“So, tell me,” Cara asks, “why’d you decide to leave Nar Shaddaa?” 

You drop your spoon, coughing as you choke on the stew.

“OH-” cough- “I, uh, you know-” cough- “got… um-” cough- “…tired of it.”

“Really?”

“…Really.”

Wow. That had to be the lamest lie you’ve ever told.

Cara stares at you, mouth tight as if considering whether or not to prod you further. Din is leaning sideways, occupied with his son, but you know good and well he is listening to every word.

You return Cara’s stare, unflinching, daring her to question you further. You’ll lie much better now that you’re prepared, thank you very much.

“Nar Shaddaa?” 

You have never been more grateful for an interruption! You shift your eyes over to Omera. 

“I’ve never heard of it.”

You snort, perhaps a little harsher than you intended. 

“Yeah, well-” you pretend to be occupied with something in your stew- “no surprise. A lady such as yourself would never work there.” You place your bowl down and tuck your knees up under your chin. “Hutt and syndicate casinos… Enough said.”

“Oh.”

You feel a bit guilty for coming on so strongly in response to a harmless statement. You feel responsible to lighten the mood, show Omera you aren’t upset. Shaking your head, you flash a manufactured grin. “Stars, you should be grateful to not know what Nar Shaddaa is like… or wow!” You pretend to gag. “The Hutts!” 

“I’ll drink to that.” Cara shrugs, swigging back something the Sorgan villagers called “Oriot Juice” that smelled suspiciously of alcohol.

“Cara…” Omera chides.

“What?”

Leaning back on your elbows, you chuckle. You begin mentally drawing away, leaving Omera and Cara to their fussing.

“What did you do there?” 

You rip your eyes to the right, into the unreadable visor of the Mandalorian. 

“You said something about… dealing cards?”

“Uh, yeah.” You blink, a bit taken aback. “For a short bit. I- uh- mostly performed.” You really hope he doesn’t prod for more details.

He turns his head away from you, and you could have sworn you heard him mumble something under his breath.

You need to shift the topic, fast. 

“I sure do miss singing though.” You flash Din a cheeky grin. “All the attention, all on me.”

He makes a noise. 

“That would be in character for you.”

You stick your tongue out at him for that. “Anyway, that guitar I brought off from Taek?” You smile slyly. “Let’s just say, through some creative finagling, I ‘acquired’ it hoping to sing on the streets to earn some cash.” 

Your grin plummets into a scowl. “Let’s just say that it didn’t pan out.” You cross your arms tightly across your chest. “Cheap bastards,” you grumble.

The Mandalorian laughs, a deep, hearty sound.

You blink, stunned by this victory. 

A laugh! Not a chuckle, you pried a full-on laugh from the stoic warrior!

Din leans in towards you, pulling you out of your elation.

“Well, we aren’t much of an audience,” he rasps, voice grainy through the vocoder, “but we’d be better spectators than what Taek provided.”

You beam. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t respond, just leans over on his side, his son tucked in beside him asleep.

You clasp your hands together. “I need my guitar!”

He looks in the direction of the Razor Crest. “Take my key unlo-”

“Nah, don’t need to. I grabbed the guitar out of the Razor Crest earlier today.”

He stares.

“But it was…”

“Yeah?”

“Locked.”

“Yeah.”

“…How?”

You blink.

“When I said I didn’t have any skills?”

He stares.

“I actually have a few…”

 “…and you really should upgrade the Crest’s security system.”

…

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

-------

You can’t believe your voice or feet or both haven’t given out!

Cara was right, these Sorganians know how to have a damn good party. When you provided the guitar, the villagers responded by pulling out their own traditional instruments. 

For hours, everyone (minus one stick-in-the-mud Mandalorian) danced, spun, twisted, frolicked, and skipped until no one could barely move. As fun as all the rowdy dancing was, your heart felt warm, full after sharing your own traditional songs: one a love ballad and the other a lullaby in the Sularian language.

Exactly what the energized children needed to calm them down and help put them to sleep.

“Thanks again,” Omera whispers as she walks past you, carrying a conked-out baby inside the hut. “Those songs were absolutely beautiful.”

You only smile.

Watching the other parents carry their children in for bed, you can’t help but feel keenly…. bitter.

This should have been your life.

Should have been your siblings’ life.

Should have been her life.

…

Imperials, go straight to hell.

You clench your hands into tight fists. 

“When you’ve lived as many years as I have-” you jump at Kuill’s voice- “you learn to recognize… patterns in behavior.”

“I-” you blink- “not sure wh-”

“Sadness. Anger. Loss. Fear.” He pauses to point his cane at you. “All I see in you. You’re on the run.”

Your jaw drops. “N-no-”

“It’s not my place to question.” Kuill, grunting, begins to move away. “I hope you find the peace… you seek.”

Was…

Was it really that obvious?!

You’re understandably shaken up after being directly called out like that by Kuill… 

You… need some space. 

Stalking, practically running, from the hut, you freeze mid-step, nearly falling over your own feet. 

There he is, both arms resting atop the fence, helmet fixated on the stars. He almost looks heroic with the way his cape swirls around his legs in the light night breeze.

Well…

Good time as any to have that conversation with him.

With a begrudging sigh, you fidget with your hands as you quietly tiptoe up behind the Mandalorian. He does not move or make any indication that he’s aware of your presence, though you know by now that he must. 

You grab on to the post next to him. Grunting, you begin scampering up the boards to try and sit on top of the fence beside him. 

“Oh,” you growl, struggling to climb up it in a dress. “Blast this damn skir- OOF.”

Two firm hands grab at your waist from behind, steadying you. 

“Easy, Ka’r’ika,” his voice, low, rumbles near your ear.

His grip releases.

You squeak something incoherent, your tongue tangling up on itself. “Um-” you nervously laugh as you balance sitting on top of the fence- “uh, thanks…?” 

He leans his arms across the board right beside you, angling his helmet to stare up into your face.

“Go to bed.” He inclines his helmet in the direction of the hut. “You should rest.”

“Hmf.” You cluck your tongue. “Always telling me what to do. If you wanted me to leave, you shouldn’t have helped me up here.”

He lets his visor drop to face the ground, and you can’t help but hear the sigh that slips out from under his helm. Admiring the stars glittering against his Beskar, you follow Din’s line of sight as he shifts his gaze upwards.

You bite your lip, uncertain of how to broach your pressing topic at hand...

“The stars,” you stall, “are so bright here. That’s the only thing I like about living outside the city.”

You have Din’s full attention now.

“They remind me of the eka-worms back home on Sularia.” You sigh heavily, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion on your shoulders. “During the darkest, coldest part of winter, the worms would twist and weave the most breath-taking, astonishing nets of webbing, absolutely littering the trees with them until the limbs would sag under the weight.” You wave your hand through the air, re-imagining them in your mind.

A smile brushes across your lips, and you glance upwards. “In the moonlight, the webs would sparkle like stardust. Weddings, proposals, everything.” You pause. “We all wanted it done under those glistening webs.”

Your eyes finally fall back to Din, and your heart squeezes at finding him focused on your face instead of the stars.

He glances away as if considering something.

“What?” you prod.

“…How did you escape?”

You shrug your shoulders, leaning as back as far as you could without tumbling off the fence. “Would you believe I only survived the Empire’s bombardment because I was a head-strong, disobedient child?”

He didn’t answer; just continued listening to your story with full attention.

So you continue. 

“I-I was twelve… Papa told me and my four siblings to run out the front door. Long story short, I went out the back.” 

You wrap your arms around yourself and take a deep breath. 

“Bombs dropped. I lived. They didn’t.” 

Your shoulders stoop even lower, collapsing in on yourself, and you find that you don’t have the energy to continue pretending that you’re okay- that your life hasn’t always been one big… hot… mess.

“I- I found Grandpa c-coming up the mountain… to see… To find us. And- I was… I was running down it.” You cover your eyes with a hand. “He was the only f-family I had left... then he went and… died too.”

Your fault. 

Your fault. 

It was all your fault.

“Stars,” you mumble under your breath, lower lip quivering as you tighten your palms against your face.

“My family… they died, too.”

You rip your face out of your hands.

“Victims of the Clone Wars.” His voice is a whisper, barely audible. 

“Well,” you sniff, roughly rubbing your eyes to hide your emotion. “I- I guess we’re not too different after all, huh?”

He shifts back on one arm, angling his body closer to yours.

“No, I suppose not.”

Maker, you feel really awful about what you’re about to bring up…

“Din, we’ve… shared a lot together in such a short time.” You purposely avoid looking his way.

You have to just say it.

“You should know that I am eternally grateful for the kindness you’ve shown me.” At that, you force yourself to face him. “I’d still be stuck on Taek if it wasn’t for you…”

His visor is glued to your eyes.

“Mando, I’m…I’m really eager to get to Keolith.” 

Liar.

“So, I’m…  leaving with Cara tomorrow.” You are taken aback at how hard it is to form the words, the pain squeezing in your chest. “Then I’ll jump on a transport.”

Silence.

“If… that’s what you wish.”

Even through the modulation, you can sense the confusion, the hesitation lacing his tone. Stars, you can’t even bear to look at him! How can you explain, make him understand you have no choice? His son’s safety, your own stupid overactive imagination… No, it just wouldn’t be a good idea to travel together.

“I’m sure you’ll be thrilled anyway to get me out of your ship,” you mumble, awkwardly laughing as you push at his shoulder.

He shifts, stepping back away from the fence, away from you.

He inclines his head to the side.

“Come here.”

Oh- OOF!

His gloves curl their way around your waist, and you slap your hands onto his pauldrons for balance. He drops your feet down to the ground, but his hands remain secured, glued to your waist. 

“Go to bed,” he rasps. “You need sleep.”

His hands abandon your waist, but the warmth, the heat left behind burns long into the night.

-------

“Hey!” you shout out Kuill’s window. “Wait up!”

Cursing under your breath, you continue tucking your shirt down into your pants as you stumble out the door. Standing beside the two speeder bikes, Cara and Din watch, arms crossed, as you approach. Your fingers fumble around the brim of you hat, lowering it down till your eyes are practically hidden from sight.

Hell, you feel lousy. You hardly got any sleep after the previous night’s conversation with Din. You know he is just another random acquaintance, the same you are to him, but…

Oh, kriffing fine.

You like him.

You’re… you’re going to miss him. 

Ah well, you’ll just have to be sure and annoy him a little extra today as a parting gift. 

“I need a ride to town.” You stop and throw your hands on your hips. “Gotta buy a few things.”

“Sure,” Cara lazily responds, throwing a leg over her bike. “More the merrier, right?”

You grin and nod. “Thanks.” You throw your leg over the seat of the second bike, flicking on various switches.

“This is going to b- HEY!”

A hand grabs your shoulder, sliding you roughly back away from the controls.

“Hold up,” the Mandalorian grumbles. “I don’t think so.”

“Din!” You swat at his hand. “Stop, no! Let me drive! You drive like an old man!”

“I mean, he could feasibly be one, for all we know.”

“Cara-”

“Din!” you growl, tumbling off the opposite side of the bike. You leap up to your feet, but it’s already too late. Din is settled down in front of the controls, watching you with his helmet inclined to the side. 

He places a hand on his thigh and jerks his helmet towards the open seat behind him. 

“Fine.” You stick your tongue out at him and spin around on your heel. “Then I’m riding with Car-”

Cara blasts off, leaving a trail of dust wafting behind her.

Slowly, you turn back around.

Din shoves out a hand, motioning again to the empty speeder bike seat behind him.

“Kriff it,” you grumble, throwing your leg back across the seat. You let your body slip down, molding itself completely to the back of his armor. You reach up, lowering your goggles over your eyes.

“Fine,” you bark, wrapping your arms around his middle. “Let’s ride.”

He kicks the bike into gear, and with a satisfying rev of the engine, away you blast into the desert horizon.

Definitely faster than expected.

“Guess you took my ribbing to heart,” you think with a grin. You let your arms relax their grip around his midsection, resisting the urge to throw your hands up and feel the passing breeze.

His hand grabs yours, pulling it back tighter around himself.

“Fine!” you shout over the noise. “Mother hen.”

He releases your hand, and you sigh, snuggling down into his cape, relaxed in the knowledge that you are safe for a few more days, as long as you are with him.

------- 

Din and Cara park out of the way in a side alley where the bikes should hopefully remain unnoticed and undisturbed. You walk ahead of them, staring up and down the main street of the outpost. You lift your goggles off your head, reading over the various shop store signs.

Ah, yes, you see exactly what you need.

“Cara, Mando!” You turn back around. “Meet you back at the bikes later!”

“Stay out of trouble.”

You flash Din a grin. 

“Always.”

Your first stop is to pick out a few new garments to replace those that flew away for a permanent vacation with the smuggler’s crew. You’ll wait until you’ve actually settled on Keolith to replace everything, but a few undergarments, blouses, pants, and gloves, and you are good to go for the time being. You stuff these goods away in your side satchel.

It… feels strange to own things again.

Next stop: weapons.

With a downright mischievous grin on your face, you enter the shop like a kid in a candy store.

“How can I help you?” 

“Yeah, I need a blaster pistol, preferably something small but still packs a punch.”

You pause, eyeing something out of the corner of your eye.

“And a vibroblade.”

Oh, hell yeah.

-------

Walking back in the direction of the speeder bikes, you turn the vibroblade over in your hands. 

“Maker! This thing’s sick.” You try twirling it in your hand, giving it a toss, cringing as it flies sideways. “Um, no one saw that,” you mumble, picking it back up. “Guess I’ll need a little, uh, practice.”

Lost in your own amusement, you march around the corner into the alleyway, focused only on the viroblade in your hands. 

“Hopefully, Cara and Din won’t tak-”

Wait.

Hold up.

Who are…?

“Hey!” you shout, throwing a hand on your hip, “I don’t know who you are, but those are not your bikes.” 

You pause, cringing inwardly. You may own a weapon again, it’s still a pretty bad idea to smart-mouth strangers…

The blue Twi’lek male and a brown-haired human female, both cloaked in black, remain motionless, leaning against the bikes with their arms crossed.

“Uh,” you hesitate mid-stride, falling dead still. “…C-can I help you?”

The two strangers share a glance.

“It’s her?”

“It’s her.”

Oh.

…

OH SHIT.

You launch backwards, hand flying to your holster, but before you have time to even think, a blaster is trained on your head. 

“Drop the blade,” the woman barks. “And carefully throw that blaster aside.”

“Shitshitshit,” you hiss through your teeth while slowly, cautiously obliging the woman’s demands.

Bounty hunters. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

No, no! You can’t- you won’t go back! Not for him!

“L-look, th-this has to be a misunderstanding-”

“Listen carefully,” the woman interrupts, speaking your full name aloud. “You’re the companion to the Mandalorian?”

Mandalorian… they’re… they’re not here for you?

You blink, mouth gaped open.

Oh, bloody hells!

What has Din gotten himself into?

“I am she,” you keep your hands pressed against the thighs of your legs. “But, specifically, which Mandalorian do you refer to? I know sev-”

“Stop being cute.” She marches over, grasping your upper arm with a steel grip.

“Hey!” you yelp against the fingers digging into your flesh.

“Against the wall.”

She pushes you towards it, sending you stumbling over your own feet. You press your back as tightly as you can against the wall, shifting your eyes in all directions for any possible escape…

Oh, kriff kriff what do you do what do you do-

“Listen carefully.” The woman takes a step back, crossing her arms carefully. As you stare into the eyes of what very well could be the reason for your immediate demise, you force your breathing to even itself out.

Stay calm.

Stay calm.

Whatever it is, you can talk your way out of it.

They want Mando, not you.

 “You assisted the Mandalorian in taking something that I must have back.”

Oh karabast.

They do want you.

“Whu-? Marek?” you blurt, mouth gaping open a bit. “Marek’s datachip?”

“It’s not Marek’s,” the woman’s voice turns harsh. “Marek is but an employee of a crime syndicate…”

“…On Nar Shaddaa.”

Your blood freezes.

…

Oh.

Oh no.

This….. this is bad.

If- if they recognize you…

You have to talk your way out.

“Listen,” your voice turns firm, commanding. “I barely know the Mandalorian. I met him on Taek. I know nothing about the chip or who he stole it for.”

“None of that matters.” The woman takes a step back. You try and hide your intense relief at the space she’s given you. You can’t appear weak, not right now.

“We only wish to have it returned.”

Somehow you seriously doubt that…

“We can cut a deal.” The statement tumbles out of your mouth before you even realize what it is you’re saying. 

“The chip- it’s in his ship, the Razor Crest.”

Bloody hell if you know where it is! He wouldn’t tell you blasted anything! But if you can stall these two long enough… it will give Din and Cara time to figure out what’s going on and save your ass.

“Well-” the woman raises her eyebrow- “I suppose we know where we are going then.” She motions you towards the bike. “Drive, but keep in mind-” she waves her blaster- “this will be at you back.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you snort, “just all part of the business, right?”

Right…

-------

You slow the speeder bike to a halt on the side of the Razor Crest facing away from Kuill’s homestead. Though you originally whined to Din about the distance, you are now intensely grateful the Mandalorian kept the ship anchored way far off from the homestead.

Keenly aware there’s a blaster pointed at your back, you step up to the ramp of the ship with a gulp.

Locked door, of course.

Thank the Maker you’ve already hacked the system once before. This shouldn’t take long… unless you happen to make a few little- oops!- mistakes that cost time. As you walk up the ramp, inwardly, you begin cycling through the racing, rolling thoughts clambering around in your head. 

“Stars! Where are you Din? They should have come back by now, found the speeder bikes gone… I drove slower on purpose. Do they know something’s wrong? Do they think I’m pranking them? Curse my mischievous nature! I bet they think I’m pranking them!”

“What are you doing?” the man harshly demands.

“Uh, I- uh- don’t have a… key on me.” You throw your hands up. “But wait! I can hack the system- no problem!” You nervously laugh.

They both share a glance.

“Fine. Hurry.”

You turn back around, smirking to yourself.

Time for a bit of stalling.

“I just have to pull on this-” Sparks.

“Re-wire this-” More sparks.

“Punch in this-” Fire.

“Get back!” The woman snarls, clamping the panel protecting the wiring closed to stop the flames from growing. 

“Get. This. Door. Open.”

“Y-yes, sure, no problem.” You fling the panel back open and start back to work.

Oh stars…

You are able to stall no more than five minutes without raising suspicion. As you step back inside the Razor Crest, you feel absolutely sick to your stomach. Having these Nar Shaddaa syndicate members enter this ship, this home… it’s violating. This ship was a place of refuge, safety after your traumatic time on Taek. And here you are- with yet another new tangled mess.

“In the cockpit,” you bark, stepping towards it. You are yanked backwards.

“He goes first. Then you. Then me.”

Biting your lip, you slowly nod your head.

You lead them up and over to the pilot’s seat, sitting down and punching on all the buttons you can find. “It should be… ahh… here it is! Oh wait, no….”

“What?” the woman snarls, clearly growing very agitated with your obvious game-playing.

“The chip! It’s gone!” You fake a gasp. “Let me check down in the hold!”

Not waiting for any commands, you practically fall down the ladder into the hold, racing towards the far wall and punching at the buttons of Din’s holo display, feigning dismay. 

“Gone! It’s- he must have it on him! Oh, karking hells!”

“Hmm.” Her face hardens. “How inconvenient.”

“Sure is!” You shrug, knocking the brim of your hat back. “Look- new plan. The Mandalorian- I’m sure you heard about how he surrendered for me… at Marek’s base.” You throw your hands out to the side.

Think, think, think.

“…So, uh, you hold me hostage. He’ll come.” You nod your head. “H-he’ll give the chip over. Especially if I talk to him.”

This- this is bad. 

Stars! This couldn’t get much worse!

The woman angles her head, eyes boring straight into your own. “Hmm, he probably won’t surrender for you…”

“…But maybe he will for them.”

You blink. 

Them.

You spin on your heel.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Hi,” Winta waves, placing the baby down on the floor. 

“Are they bad guys?” Birdie grins, pointing at the woman’s blaster.

Things just got worse.

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

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

taglist: @sana-katarn @barrissoffee77  @royalhandmaidens @dracos-jedi-marvel @sinnamon-bunn @theclonewarsbrokeme @obirain @beskar-boba @disneyjedi19 @kyjoraven @orla-dahl @babe-dont @jdjdjdididisisiei

a/n: YEAH SO THE STORY REALLY RAMPS UP FROM HERE

First things first, THANK YOU TO EVERY PERSON THAT LEFT A REVIEW ON THE LAST CHAPTER! Tumblr AND Ao3! Guys, I nearly CRIED at how sweet and kind they were! It REALLY pushed me, even through the challenging past few weeks, to write for YOU GUYS. 

Guys, this is only half of what I was planning for chapter 6! As usual, the chapter grew OUT OF HAND! So the other half will be included with chapter 7, which, you'll be thankful to know, is already mapped out and ready to be typed up! After all, I did end here on a cliffhanger of sorts, so it'd be cruel to make you wait too terribly long! 😉 Let's just say chapter 7 is going to be a lot of FUN with DRAMA. (I might have laughed/cried my butt off when mapping it out...) And a lot of ANGST. 👀 I see you, my angst-loving fans. I'm here to D.E.L.I.V.E.R.

GUESSING GAME: A new character will appear in chapter 7! This character has been alluded to already in the story! Let's just say, it's NOT what you're expecting! Any guesses?

Last note, about two weeks ago, I did a clean up/edit of chapter one. As it was my first chapter, I didn't yet have a grasp on the tone/voice of the story. I cleaned it up to make it fit better with the following chapters.

ANYWAY, see you soon! Please leave feedback here or on Ao3 (wille_zarr). (Shoutout to @sana-katarn​ for inventing the term "hutt fudge" at my request. She's out here being the real MVP.)

[joonie-beanie]

Brownies

Pairing: Beel x Bean ( + Lucifer )

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Words: 4,938

So, I decided to write this based off this post I made the other day about Beel and Bean.

It seemed like a lot of people were torn between wanting just Bean x Beel, and Lucifer x Bean x Beel, so :’) maybe I wrote two different endings? Just maybe.

Read to the end and find out ;o

Bean has a sweet tooth, and she’s been trying to stave it. 

However, Satan had stopped by her room earlier that evening to ask if she had any grocery requests, and despite herself, she’d told him a box of brownie mix.

Now, hours later, she’s acutely aware of the fact that somewhere down in the kitchen is a brownie mix—waiting for her. And if she doesn’t bake them sooner, rather than later, it’s likely one of the brothers will find the brownies and devour them before she can get the chance. 

Mainly Beel.

Now don’t get her wrong, she adores the Avatar of Gluttony, but she wants to be able to eat and/or hide a portion of the dessert before he discovers the rest.

So, at the ripe hour of 12AM, Bean rolls out of bed and makes her way to the kitchen. It’s a school night, and she feels she’ll be fine baking so late in the evening. It’s likely that most of the brothers are already asleep, or are settling into bed, and within an hour, she’ll have eaten her sweet snack, wrapped a few up for later, and will be back in the comfort of her room.

Personally, she feels her plan is foolproof. Even if she’s cooking so late, she’ll still manage to get a good seven hours of sleep, so long as nothing goes wrong.

And really...the only thing that could go wrong would be Beel managing to smell the brownies from the other end of the house but...that won’t happen, right? Not if he’s asleep…

Already feeling quite tired herself, Bean yawns as she steps into the kitchen—quickly forgetting about any of her worries.

She turns on the oven to preheat it, and then rummages around in the cupboards until she finds the box of brownie mix. Satan had been careful to stick it in the way back—behind a few tall bags of chips, and Bean can’t help but laugh as she unburies it.

She’ll have to thank Satan later. Maybe she’ll give him a brownie tomorrow.

As quietly as she can manage, Bean locates a mixing bowl, and a baking pan. She mixes the wet and dry ingredients together, and then scoops them into the pan—very purposely leaving behind a few spoonfuls worth of the chocolatey batter. (Honestly, she would just eat the bowl of batter if she could).

Soon enough, the oven is heated to the correct temperature, and she places the soon-to-be pan of brownies inside. Then, before she forgets, she picks up her DDD and sets a timer—leaving it a few minutes short of the recommended time (because let’s be honest, fudgy brownies are the best).

Once that’s taken care of, Bean grabs the mixing bowl and leans back against the kitchen island. Using the spatula, she scoops out small amounts of the remaining batter—tasting the sweetness on her tongue as she savors it for as long as she can.

She can feel the warmth from the oven reaching into the room—warming the skin on her legs. She has a habit of wearing the same thing to bed every night: an oversized t-shirt, and a pair of fitted shorts.

At first, she’d been quite conscious of her nightwear—afraid of showing the brothers too much leg—too much of her squishy thighs. But now, after months of living with them, she no longer worries. She feels comfortable around them all, and has been reassured more than once that she doesn’t need to change her habits just for them. (And besides, they secretly enjoy shows of skin from her).

Lost in her thoughts—eyelids drooping tiredly—Bean mindlessly continues to eat the brownie batter. The house is calm around her, and she basks in the silence. However, just as she’s scooping up the last of the batter—the sweet smell of brownies beginning to waft from the oven—Bean hears the incoming sound of footfalls. 

She pauses with the spatula just inches from her lips—blue eyes shifting to look at the doorway as a figure appears. Her heart thumps loudly within her chest when she realizes it’s Beel. 

He’s standing there in only a flannel pair of pajama pants—the remnants of sleep clear on his face as he sniffs the air.

Clearly, Bean had underestimated Beel’s sense of smell. Even from the other end of the house, and while asleep, he’d managed to tell that someone was cooking.

Finally, Beel finds Bean, and his eyes quickly shift to look at the mixing bowl beside her, and the spatula full of batter that’s held in front of her lips. He takes a step forward—intent on devouring what’s left of the mixture—but Bean moves quickly.

She shoves the spatula into her mouth, smiling a little as Beel finally reaches her and picks up the bowl. When he realizes it’s empty, his brows furrow—upset that she hadn’t shared. However—

He turns to look at the stove. The pan of brownies inside is less than half way cooked, and yet, he looks ready to down the entire dessert. Bean notices where he’s staring, and quickly reaches out—grabbing his wrists. 

“Beel, no, c’mon” she says, feeling a little guilty when his upset eyes shift to look at her. He tugs his arms from her grasp, and her heart aches—not used to seeing him look so upset. She hopes it’s just the grogginess that’s making him appear mad, and that he’s not actually mad at her.

“I’m sorry. When they’re finished, you can definitely have—”

Her words cut off as Beel grabs her face—tugging her into a bruising kiss. His tongue shoves into her mouth, her gasp of shock lost against him as he explores her—gathering all the sweetness she has to offer. He can taste the brownie batter on her tongue.

“Mmm…”

Sliding one of his large hands to cradle the back of her head, his now free arm wraps around her waist—tugging her flush against him. The new proximity and angle allows Beel to press even deeper, and he doesn’t hear the way Bean whimpers—her hands raising to press against his bare chest.

His kisses are messy and relentless—full of tongue and teeth—and Bean is helpless in the face of his undying hunger. 

She can feel the heat radiating off her own face, and the arousal that has begun to pool between her legs. Even if she knows Beel is only acting like this because of his bottomless appetite, she can’t help being turned on by his current actions. He’s quite literally stealing her breath away.

In fact, she may pass out soon if he doesn’t allow her to breathe.

Whining, she presses harder against him, but he doesn’t budge. She tries again, and again—making more sounds, and louder. Her fingernails curl into the tanned skin of his chest, and the inkling of pain finally brings him back into reality.

With a trail of spit connecting them—Beel pulls back. 

His grip on her lingers, his violet eyes searching her face as her chest heaves. Every inch of her skin is flushed—her eyes blown wide, and lips swollen. It quickly becomes obvious to the Avatar of Gluttony that despite his innocent intentions, he’d managed to get Bean extremely turned on.

The realization makes him hard.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, thumb soothing over the back of her skull. His gaze softens, although the underlying hunger remains. However, now he’s hungrier for something else. A different sort of midnight snack.

Bean shakes her head, reaching up to cradle his face.

“No—no, Beel, you’re fine, I just,” she laughs breathily, smiling at him. “I needed to breathe, that’s all. I didn’t mind the kiss…”

Beel gives her waist a squeeze—rocking his body forward ever so slightly—and she can feel his growing hard-on against her stomach. 

“I didn’t mean to get hard,” he admits, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “But...I couldn’t help it, seeing your face.”

Bean understands the meaning behind his words—an unspoken question of “can we keep going?”. And, of course, she wants to keep going. She can’t stop now, when she’s already feeling wetness gather between her thighs

Pressing onto her tiptoes, she kisses Beel softly. It’s a complete 180 from their previous bout of kisses, but neither of them mind, and things don’t stay so gentle for long. 

Grabbing her by her waist, Beel hefts Bean up onto the kitchen island—stepping in between her spread legs. With each passing second, their kisses turn more wanton. Their mouths slot together—Beel’s fingers moving to grip the soft flesh of her hips, and he finds that he has a sudden appreciation for the height of the counter—his pelvis perfectly aligned with her clothed pussy. 

With little effort, he begins grinding Bean’s body against his own—his quickly growing erection tenting against his pajama pants as he slides himself against the damp fabric of her shorts. And Bean can only watch in anticipation—leaned back on her palms to steady herself. 

The size of Beel’s body, and his cock, never fail to make her feel small. And she loves it—arousal snaking through every inch of her body.

“Beel…,” she whines, biting her lip when he moves one of his hands between her legs. Two of his digits sneak beneath the crotch of her shorts—gathering up her wetness, and slipping between her tight walls. 

He pumps his fingers into her a few times, testing the waters, and making sure he won’t hurt her. He knows by now that Bean doesn’t mind the stretch of him—doesn’t mind if a little pain is involved—but he still has a habit of warming her up.

“Beel,” she whines again, louder. She grinds her hips against his fingers, letting him know she can take more. She doesn’t need any prep. She’s already so wet, and doesn’t want to wait any longer to take him.

However, Beel still doesn’t budge—too concerned with making sure she won’t get hurt. Bean sighs.

Sitting up, she reaches forward and wrestles her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. Her fingers curl around his length—his girth too much for her small hand to wrap around—but that doesn’t stop her from stroking him.

The sensation makes him groan, the muscles in his torso flexing as she pumps her hand up and down his shaft. Bean smiles at his reaction.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You won’t hurt me. Please, I want you.”

Finally reassured by her words, Beel gives in. He leans down and kisses her—his hands tugging his pants down his thighs as their mouths meld. He then makes quick work of her shorts—his fingers curling around her waistband, and scooting them down her legs. 

Before long, her bottoms are abandoned on the kitchen floor—Beel gripping his cock and rubbing his tip between her slick folds. Bean bites her lip as she watches him, body shivering in excitement when she feels the first few inches of his length press into her.

The stretch is delicious, and Bean can’t help groaning. She leans back onto her forearms, bottom lip catching between her teeth as she watches Beel disappear inside of her—inch by inch. He works himself between her walls slowly, and yet, it doesn’t take long for him to completely fill her—her pussy twitching around his girth—adjusting to the snug fit.

“Fuck,” she breathes. Bean’s legs wrap around him, and Beel begins rocking into her—his hungry eyes locked on the space between their bodies. The strong smell of brownies has begun to permeate the room, and combined with the natural sweet scent of Bean, the Avatar of Gluttony feels like he may go crazy from hunger.

“Mmm,” leaning down, Beel kisses her—smothering her cute little sounds with his lips as he begins thrusting faster. And her pussy takes him so beautifully, like always—making him fall apart at the seams. 

Once the kiss is broken—the two mutually parting for air—Beel settles his mouth against her neck. He assaults the sensitive skin with his tongue and teeth, and the lewd noise she makes in response has his cock throbbing.

Despite his impressive stamina, Beel quickly feels himself inching towards his release. 

He can’t help it—not with all the heavenly smells around him, and the way Bean is reacting to his ministrations.

“Bean,” he pants. He continues fucking between her walls—sinful, wet noises filling the room with each poignant trust. And honestly, Bean isn’t very far behind. It’s likely a combination of her tired brain, Beel’s breath stealing kisses, and his delicious girth that has managed to get her so close, so fast.

Oh, and his mouth on her neck isn’t helping either—her pussy getting wetter with each pass of his lips or tongue over her skin.

“Beel—,” she starts, but at that moment, her DDD goes off. The timer she’d pre-set runs to zero, letting her know that the brownies need to come out of the oven. Bean groans.

Reaching up, she hugs her arms tightly around Beel’s broad torso—pressing a soft kiss to his chest. 

“Cum,” she says.

She knows he’s closer than she is—can sense it in the desperation of his thrusts. Can feel it in the way his muscles tense beneath her hands.

“But—,” he grits his jaw, his hands finding her waist and holding her tightly. He so very much wants to give in and listen to her, but he doesn’t feel right cumming without her. And he knows that’s her plan—to let him cum, and sacrifice her own orgasm so she can go and tend to the brownies.

He frowns, giving her a squeeze. Bean peppers more kisses against his hot skin.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. Purposely, she clenches her pussy around his cock, and his breath catches.

“Please, I want you to.”

Helpless to obey her, Beel thrusts inside of her a few more times before stuffing her to the brim with his length. His seed messily paints her sopping walls—Beel’s quick breaths fanning against her hair as he reaches his high.

“Good?” she whispers, reaching over to snatch her phone off the counter. The timer is still buzzing—two minutes past the set time. 

Beel grunts, nuzzling his head against her neck and making her giggle. She pets his soft orange hair.

“Are you okay to move? I should get the brownies before they overcook.”

The demon nods, sitting up, and grabbing her waist. His brows knit together—his eyes once again focusing on the space where their bodies meet. He takes a few seconds to remove himself, and Bean flushes in embarrassment when she feels some of his seed slip out of her the moment his cock finally leaves her pussy.

“C’mere,” she says, scooting forward. She guides him into a soft kiss, lingering for a few seconds, before she hops down from the counter—Beel’s hands quickly finding her waist when she wobbles a little on her feet.

Despite not having cum, her legs are still weak. It’s just...a general side effect of love making with Beel.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, face still quite red, and then moves to the stove. Beel watches her as she opens the oven door, grabbing a nearby towel and using it to remove the pan from inside.

As she bends over, Beel gets an eyeful of her backside—peeking out from beneath the hem of her oversized t-shirt. He can see the slick arousal that still coats her pussy, and he swallows. Hunger gnaws at his stomach.

At the same time, a bit of guilt pokes at his heart.

He wants to make her cum too. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving her unfulfilled

“We should let them cool for a while before we try to eat them,” Bean speaks, setting the brownies on the stovetop. “Otherwise, they’ll just fall apart.”

“But I’m hungry,” Beel whines, hand resting atop his stomach. Bean breathes a laugh, staring at him fondly. She makes her way back to his side, intending to hug him, but it’s obvious Beel has other ideas.

He steps past her—one of his hands finding the small of her back he guides her against the kitchen island once more. However, this time he positions her face down—her chest pressed against the warm surface.

She shivers when she feels him hike her shirt up around her waist, his thumbs pulling at the folds of her pussy and spreading her open.

“Beel??”

“You’ll be my pre-brownie snack,” he mumbles, getting onto his knees. Bean whines as he flattens his tongue against her—gathering up both own his seed and her arousal on his taste buds.

“After all, you need to cum too.”

“B-Beel, it’s fine—,” she tries to argue, flustered by the feel of his mouth on her pussy. This isn’t the first time he’s given her oral—far from it—but it never fails to fluster her.

Grunting, Beel ignores her words, solely focusing on the meal before him.

Kneeling behind her, he grips her ass tightly—adjusting her position ever so slightly as he finds the best angle to eat her. And Bean is already a blushing mess, her fingers gripping onto the edge of the counter as Beel begins running his tongue between her folds.

Despite the fact that her previously impending release has begun to fade away—the coil in her gut is quickly winding once again. And when Beel suctions his lips around her clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves, Bean can’t help the cry that leaves her.

The sound only spurs him on, and Beel continues relentlessly. His hands squeeze her soft flesh, coaxing her to spread her legs wider, and Bean’s thighs shake. Panting, she rests her check against the wooden surface of the island—face mindlessly turned towards the kitchen doorway. 

[BeelBean ending] ↓

“Beel,” she begs, the demon's tongue pressing inside of her. Beel groans in response, using his hold to grind her down onto his face—allowing his tongue to venture even deeper. Bean’s entire body writhes, her chest heaving as her pleasure builds.

“Clit, please,” she reaches back and curls her fingers into Beel’s hair, hoping to guide him where she needs his mouth to be. Luckily, knowing that he has another snack waiting for him, Beel doesn’t have an issue giving into her request. 

He shifts his mouth back down to her clit, flicking his tongue against the bud, and giving it all of the attention it craves. His actions have Bean positively melting, her legs weak as she stands there, body bent over the counter. 

“Fuck, Beel—,” she pushes onto her tiptoes and curves her spine, adjusting the angle of her hips as Beel works at her. The slight change in position does wonders—lewd gasps and whines falling from Bean’s lips. 

It doesn’t take long after that for her legs to give out, but Beel is more than strong enough to support her.

Using his grip on her ass and thighs, Beel holds her steady—his mouth working at her clit until she’s coming undone with a cry of his name. And Beel groans happily at the feeling of her muscles flexing against him—his tongue continuing to lap at her until she’s gone slack in his hold, completely spent.

But even then, Beel continues to languidly drag his tongue between her folds—gathering her arousal on his taste buds. He only stops when Bean gives his hair a small tug, whining and reminding him of the brownies that are now cool enough to eat.

Finally, he relents. But not without pressing a few soft kisses to her thighs.

“Love you,” he mumbles, standing up and wrapping his arms around her. He hugs her tightly from behind, nuzzling his head against her, and Bean laughs.

“I love you too, Beel.”

With both of them fully satisfied (at least in a sexual sense), the two redress themselves and address the cooled pan of brownies.

As Bean cuts the dessert into tiny squares, Beel is practically drooling over her shoulder. The only thing keeping him from snatching the whole pan and devouring them is the fact that it would upset Bean, so instead he stands behind her with his hands on her waist—fingers squeezing her impatiently.

Once the brownies have been cut, Bean takes a few for herself, puts one aside to give Satan tomorrow, and then gives Beel the rest of the pan. Immediately his face is glowing.

By the time Bean has eaten her one brownie for the night, the remainder of the pan is gone—all of the chocolatey dessert now inside of Beel’s tummy. 

“Did that hit the spot?” she asks, placing the dirty pan into the kitchen sink. Beel nods happily, a smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, thank you for sharing.”

“Of course,” she responds, grabbing her goody bag from the counter. The two walk out of the kitchen together, and when they arrive at the door to Bean’s room, Beel immediately looks shy.

Bean rolls her eyes fondly, grabbing his wrist.

“You can stay, if you want.”

She knows by now that Beel is big on staying nearby after sex—wanting to make sure that she’s alright. (Also, he just really likes cuddling).

Nodding at her offer, Beel steps inside her room, and they settle into her bed. 

It’s not long before the two are out like a light—Beans arms wrapped around Beel in a tight hug as she uses his chest as a pillow.

[BeelBean + Luci ending] ↓

Her heart nearly stops when she finds that the doorway is not empty, but in fact occupied.

Lucifer is standing there, eyebrows raised high on his forehead, and empty teacup in his grasp. She can only assume that he’s working late, and had come to fetch himself another drink.

But now here he is, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her get eaten out by a hungry Beel as her pan of brownies cool just feet away. 

Holy shit.

Bean feels the way all the blood in her body rushes to her face, and she reaches a hand back—fingers curling into Beel’s orange hair.

“Beel—,” she attempts to let the demon know that they’re no longer alone, but the Avatar of Gluttony doesn’t notice the urgency in her tone. He does feel the tug of her fingers in his hair, however, and assumes from the action that she wants more.

So, he moves his mouth down a bit, focusing his attention on the sensitive bundle of nerves that he has yet to address.

Of course, he decides to suck on her clit just as she opens her mouth to try and get his attention once more.

“Beel, wait, Lu-cifer,” her voice hitches, the last few syllables of Lucifer’s name coming out in a high-pitched gasp. Her eyelashes flutter, eyes threatening to roll back into her skull as Beel continues lapping away at her most sensitive area. And the entire time, Lucifer posed in the doorway, watching it unfold.

The obvious embarrassment showing on her face has him grinning. The sadistic part of him loves seeing her so flustered, even if he’s not the one doing the dirty acts to make her that way.

“Am I interrupting?” he finally speaks, catching his brother’s attention.

Managing to tear himself away from his current meal, Beel sits back and turns to stare at Lucifer. He looks a little guilty when he realizes they’ve been discovered. Beel has no issue with what he’s doing to Bean, but he does feel a little sorry for doing it in a public space, where just anyone could walk in.

Like now.

“I…,” Bean brushes a few stray hairs from in front of her eyes. “I’m making brownies…”

“I see,” Lucifer responds, chuckling. He steps inside the room, making his way to the stove. He grabs the tea kettle and puts it one of the burners, igniting a fire beneath it.

“I’ll only be a few moments. Don’t stop on my account.”

Beel glances at his brother, wondering if it truly is okay to keep going, and Lucifer dips his head. Without hesitating, Beel gets back to work.

Bean gasps as his tongue returns between her folds, resuming its hungry motions against her. The action is unexpected, and immediately she’s whining, trying to convince the Avatar of Gluttony that they shouldn’t continue while Lucifer is present. However—

“There’s no need for you to stop just because of me.”

Bean glances up, finding Lucifer as he makes his way to the other side of the kitchen island. Still grinning, he reaches out—his fingers skimming her cheek, and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“From the looks of it, you’re already quite close, June.”

At that moment, Beel sucks on her clit particularly hard, and Bean’s entire body writhes. Her chest heaves, wanton pants falling from her lips, and Lucifer quietly soaks in the sight.

“Isn’t that right?”

Lucifer grips her chin, angling her head up as he leans down—sealing their lips. She moans against him, the Avatar of Pride devouring all of her precious little sounds as he kisses her. At the same time, Beel continues running his tongue against her, and with every passing second she comes more undone. 

“Make her cum, Beel,” Lucifer speaks after a moment, his crimson eyes watching Bean as she shakes—oh-so-close to her release. And Beel listens to his brother’s instruction without any issue. 

The Avatar of Gluttony suctions his mouth against her clit, tongue flicking against the sensitive bud in a steady rhythm, and Beans lips part in a moan. Her eyelashes flutter, muscles tensing, and her blown-out gaze falls on Lucifer.

He can see the silent question in her eyes, and it makes him chuckle. 

“Go on,” he whispers, kissing her once more, and within seconds Bean is coming undone. Her cry of pleasure is lost around Lucifer’s tongue, and Beel steadies her legs as her knees give out—overwhelmed by the strength of her orgasm. However, he doesn’t pull away just yet.

No, he continues lapping at her pussy until she’s quietly begging for him to stop. Her fingers pet through his hair, coaxing him away as the tea kettle on the stove starts to squeal. 

Quickly, Lucifer makes his way over and turns off the burner—hoping not to wake his brother with the high-pitched noise. 

He observes Bean and Beel as the two collect themselves, exchanging shows of affection and checking on each other—making sure that everything is alright. And by the time they’re both redressed, and moving to cut into the cooled pan of brownies, Lucifer has already fixed himself another cup of tea.

“Do you mind if I keep her for the night?” Lucifer asks, glancing at his brother. Beel blinks, looking down at Bean. A frown tugs at his lips, his hands moving to grip Bean’s waist, and Bean turns to smile at him.

“Why don’t you give us a few minutes?” she suggests, soft eyes glancing to Lucifer. The older brother nods, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to her temple before he turns and leaves the kitchen. 

A short while later, he hears a knock on his bedroom door, and Bean appears. There’s a plate of wrapped brownies in her grasp.

“I see you managed to save a few,” he comments. Bean breathes a laugh, setting the plate on his coffee table beside the documents he’s currently reading over as she settles in beside him. 

Yawning, she leans over and rests her head on his shoulder. He immediately turns and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“You can have one, if you want,” she says. “I saved one for you and Satan.”

“Why Satan?”

“He bought me the mix.”

“And why me?”

Her eyes turn up to him, blinking innocently.

“Because I like you.”

He chuckles. 

“Thank you. I didn’t upset Beel by stealing you away, did I?”

Bean shakes her head. “No, he just likes being close after...sex, so he wanted to stay together a little longer. That’s all.”

“Hmm, I see. And did you enjoy yourself?”

Bean blushes, glancing away. “Well, you almost gave me a full-blown heart attack when I saw you standing there, but otherwise it was enjoyable, yes. How long were you there, anyway?”

“Just a few seconds,” he chuckles, his crimson gaze full of mirth as his gaze shifts to her. “Your reaction once spotting me was more than I could have hoped for.”

She pouts her lips at his teasing remarks, sending him a glare with no real anger behind it.

Pressing to her feet, she leaves the plate of brownies abandoned on his table, and throws herself into his bed. Within seconds, she snuggles herself beneath the soft sheets.

“Come sleep,” she commands. Lucifer’s lips quirk.

“I’ll be there shortly, I promise.”

And true to his word, a few minutes later, the bed dip as Lucifer settles in beside her. His arm drapes over her waist, and Bean can feel the warmth radiating off of Lucifer’s bare chest.

“Good night, Lucifer,” she mumbles, already half asleep. Lucifer presses a kiss to her hair, letting his own eyes fall shut.

“Good night, my love.”

And if his hand had been over her chest, he would have felt her heart skip a beat.

[meetthetank]

Beast Code Chapter 1: The Twilit City

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationship: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), Original YoRHa Characters (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Transformation, gothic horror, Android Lycanthropy...sort of, Inspired by Bloodborne (Video Game), Everyday i get closer to just writing a Bloodborne AU

Summary:  Break the vicious cycle with tooth and claw. Unleash the beast within and destroy your chains. But the strength to defy fate comes at a grave cost. Will it be enough, little doll? Or will you succumb to despair once more?

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31546982

The assignment to the Twilight Belt comes as a shock to 2B and 9S. Rarely, if ever, are YorHa units sent to this border of perpetual daylight and eternal night. Conditions are always reported as unstable by the infrequent scans by one of the other satellite bases that orbit earth, too dangerous to deploy scanners by themselves, and too depleted of resources for the Council to care about. The mystery surrounding the strip of permanent twilight goads curious operators and scanners alike to comb through files searching for nuggets of data, image or video files, anything they can get their hands on. All but a few pieces of data reveal tantalizing scraps and clues to the puzzle of the Sunset Belt. Photographs of dead machines with toothy, gaping maws that split their spherical heads in two and minerals warped in peculiar shapes. According to one of the situation reports from a scanner that had been sent there, there was an eerie, foreboding feeling about the place; that strange and frightening sounds would echo across the landscape and that he felt close to a forbidden barrier that separated this world from another. Though the file and its contents are now treated as a human “ghost story”, many androids, including 2B and 9S, believe at least some portion of the tale.

9S relays this story to 2B as they descend to Earth’s surface, his chattering easing some of 2B’s trepidation. The pair had fallen into an easy rhythm over the course of several assignments to Earth, most of which involved retrieving data from lost servers buried in rubble or clearing out an area of machine lifeforms. Despite her outwardly cold demeanor, 9S wormed his way past all of her defenses, forming a strong, solid relationship with the battler android. His voice is a centering point for her and assists in ignoring the gut churning possibilities of what could be waiting for them below.

“...What do you think, 2B?” his voice crackles from the comms system inside her flight unit.

“Hm?” she shifts her head to the side, glancing at his jet black flight unit cruising beside hers.

“What do you think made the target go rogue?”

She bites her lower lip. There are a thousand possible answers as to why a normally punctual, efficient YorHa Battle unit would suddenly stop responding to command and not checking in at required times. Only a few of those options were machine lifeform related complications.

“We’ll find out when we arrive, 9S.” she says curtly, eager to shut down the conversation, “Focus on landing protocol.”

He sighs, a sound of annoyance and frustration, “Yeah, yeah.”

“One affirmation will-”

“Fiiiiiiiine.”

The final phase of their descent is spent in silence. They pass through the Earth’s atmosphere in streaks of fire and light towards the border of day and night, and a continent that humans called Europe. Even as they descend, the outlines of ancient, massive structures come into view. Both androids are used to the thick vegetation eating away at the remains of human structures, but here the trees are gnarled, twisted, and void of leaves or blossoms. Their branches reach to the crimson sky and permanently setting sun like bony hands in prayer or a stag’s antlers. As 2B and 9S set their flight units down a few miles away from the outskirts of a sprawling, ancient city. It amazes 9S, as he exits his own unit, that the buildings are in such good condition considering the millenia that have passed it by. Great spires of countless cathedrals pierce the heavens, casting an ominous, looming shadow over the otherwise barren landscape. A well worn cobblestone road, lined with rusted iron lighting fixtures long since burnt out, leads into the city proper. 

2B and 9S stand at the precipice of this ancient beast of stone and metal in awe of its size, and terrified of what might lurk within. A hoarse bird’s caw, jolts the androids back into awareness, 2B drawing her katana and prepares for battle.

“Heh,” 9S laughs, trying to calm them both down, “Just a raven, 2B.”

“What?”

“A large black bird. Harmless to us.” He doesn’t tell her about the chill he gets down his spine as he watches the corvid gaze down at them with beady black eyes, or how humans saw these birds as ill omens or prophets of death.

They begin the trek into the forgotten city. 2B doesn’t put Virtuous Contract away.

Pod 042 alerts 2B to the presence of an unidentifiable android signal, marking the location on both hers and 9S’ map. Since the area has yet to be properly mapped out by satellite imagery (as inaccurate as that process is) only a vague street layout is available through a very low power scan. They have no way of judging what might block their path to the target beyond featureless grey masses depicting buildings, rubble, large trees, or whatever else may lie in wait. Their target, represented by a small orange dot on the map, appears to be near the city’s main gate and inside one of the larger buildings. 2B refuses to admit it to herself, but she’s relieved to not have to delve too far into this labyrinthine city.

“I’ve never seen the sky this color…” 9S muses as he stares up, transfixed by the blood red sky and orange sun hanging low.

Though hauntingly beautiful, she won’t deny, 2B keeps her gaze fixed on the wrought iron gate ahead of them. The heavens disturb her; they are the color of death. Of war. And the sun is… wrong. 

She snaps at 9S to keep focused as they approach the gate to the city. Though scans indicate there are no machine lifeforms, or any lifeforms beyond their target, she’s learned from countless combat assignments to not rely totally on what the support unit reports. She’s encountered and seen machines that mask themselves from scans or camouflage themselves in the environment, and in a place like this anything could be hiding in the shadows just outside of view. 

The iron gate lies ajar, worn from millennia of neglect. Clouds of rust particles burst from the hinges as 2B shoves it open further, the metal grinding against itself with a horrible grating shriek. The sound makes them both wince, and they slip through the partially opened gate as soon as they can.

Standing inside the city gates, 9S can’t shake the uneasy feeling that claws at the back of his mind. The great ancient human structures loom above them, and though he knows that the buildings themselves aren’t alive, he can’t shake the notion that he’s being watched by them. The windows are dark, but when he passes by the light of the setting sun reflects off of them, giving them the illusion of intelligence. Suddenly, 9S feels as if he’s inside a cave, or locked in a room with no exit. Suddenly… He finds it hard to breathe. 9S tugs at the collar of his jacket as if it's tightening around his throat. His synthetic lungs fill with air as much as he can take, then he releases it moments later. It calms him, if only a little.

2B’s gaze is fixed ahead on the building Pod 042 marked as the rogue android’s hiding place. It’s a much smaller structure than the others that choke the sky, but its reach stretches across the streets like a tree’s roots. Judging by the well preserved signs that hang from crumbled doors it looked to have multiple uses. 9S commands his own Pod to run scans on the words and symbols for later analysis. 

“The target’s in here…” 2B murmurs, holding her free hand up in a tight fist, signaling 9S to stop behind her.

This portion of the sprawling building is similar in structure to the massive spires above. It has the same pointed section on the roof, but much smaller in scale, and similar symbols decorate the exterior. A cross, winged humans, various flowering plants, and a number of human figures bowing their heads or supplicating themselves to the winged humans.

“This must have been a place of worship,” 9S muses aloud.

“Focus.”

He nods. Typically 9S argues with his partner about the necessity for recording data like this, or excuse his wandering attention to his designation as a scanner, but he knows the danger within the house of worship, or rather, he doesn’t know. Neither one of them knows what this rouge android is capable of. 

2B presses her hand against the wooden doors to the chapel and pushes it open as slowly as possible. It groans in protest, dust falls from its hinges and frame, but it swings inward. A rush of warm air washes over them carrying the scent of stale incense and dead machines. Clouds of smoke billow out of the doorway, rising into the red sky like twisted fingers. 2B enters first, sliding in sword arm first. She motions for 9S to wait for a moment, then commands Pod 042 to switch on its flashlight. 

9S peeks his head around the door, keeping a few paces behind his partner. He switches on his own Pod’s flashlight to illuminate more of the pitch black interior. Long wooden benches are pushed up against the walls, opening up the center space. Ornate candle holders, rotting books, charred incense burners, and pieces of artwork among other things 9S has no name for are scattered across the ground, each one a priceless human artifact that could fuel hours of study. Yet it’s not these that hold 9S’ attention, but the statue at the far back of the chapel, and the figure kneeling in front of it.

It looks to be made of some kind of marble, a pristine white stone that has been sheltered from time and the elements. The subject is another winged human, this one wearing splendid armor and wielding a great spear. Beneath them, a grotesque, writhing beast bares its teeth and claws at the warrior as the blade pierces its throat. 9S has never seen anything like it in person, and very few records of these kinds of sculptures remain at all. It’s both horrific and beautiful at once. He wonders what the human who made this saw that inspired it. Did creatures like these roam the world during their time?

2B steps in front of him, Virtuous Contract at the ready. The figure in front of the statue rises to their feet as the Pod’s flashlights center on them. A cloak made of feathers conceals most of their form but they appear to be a female android, perhaps a YorHa model. Though, if that were the case it would have been in the mission briefing. That is, unless... 

The android turns her head to the side, glaring at the pair over her shoulder.

“So, Command sent the wolves, did they?” She asks, a distinct rumble in her voice.

2B raises her blade and keeps her gaze steady. She hears 9S also ready his weapon, the golden katana Cruel Oath. 

Lazily, the android turns her body to face them. Her clothes confirm her origins; there’s no mistaking the sharp white embellishments and black velvet of a YorHa uniform; however each piece is ripped, tattered, and stitched together with other scraps of clothing or… animal hide. 

The rouge android drags the blade of a bloodied top heavy sword between her fingers, cleaning the gore from it. “It doesn’t matter, dog.” Her eyes shine with a strange, purplish light that refracts around her collapsed, twisted pupils. “You will fall like the rest.”

It isn’t until the rogue android rushes forward, sword raised, that 2B sees the corpses of YorHa units piled in front of the statue, and the blood that soaks it.

She dashes backward and shoves the bewildered 9S out of harm's way. The android’s bloodied sword crashes into the stonework floor, sending thousands of years of dust into the air. 2B lunges, her katana poised to take advantage of the enemy’s opening, but she sidesteps much quicker than anticipated. The rogue’s fist slams into 2B’s chest, distorting her internal sensors and throwing her off balance. 2B watches in horror as the rogue drives her sword towards her, but a golden flash knocks the blade away. 

“2B!” 9S shouts, brandishing Cruel Oath. “Are you okay?!”

She shakes her head as if it would clear the internal errors from her vision, but she assumes her battle stance next to her partner. “Fine.”

Both androids launch into an assault on the rogue, attacking in tandem. Despite 2B’s scrambled sensors, she and 9S have an undeniable synergy that comes with countless missions. 2B forces the rogue back with singular, powerful blows, while 9S jabs at any opening he can reach from the sides. However, even with their combined might the rogue deflects and maneuvers out of the way of each attack as casually as one would flick away an insect or step around a puddle. She looks to be expending no effort at all as she dances around the two YorHa. Anger and frustration rises in 2B, culminating in a harsh growl. She mimics the rogue’s tactic from earlier, rushing forward and feinting with a crushing overhead strike that is easily dodged but allows no time for recovery. She slams her fist into the rogue android’s face, sending her stumbling backwards. Before 9S can dive in with a horizontal slash the rogue dashes backward, putting crucial distance between her and her hunters.

The rogue android lowers her gaze at the pair, sizing them up, taking stock of their abilities and assessing their weaknesses. 2B watches her eyes dart back and forth between her and 9S, then linger on 9S. Sensing the rogue’s motive and deciding at that moment that the outcome is unacceptable, 2B dives in front of the strike meant for 9S. The rogue’s sword slices cleanly through her chest, coating the rogue’s clothes in splatters of fresh blood. The battler falls to her knees, clutching the wound with one hand while supporting herself on her sword. 

“No!!” 9S screams and lunges at their target. “2B!!”

“Hm. Interesting.” The rogue murmurs, easily deflecting the scanner’s wild strikes.

2B watches through blurred, error obscured vision as 9S drives the rogue back. If she didn’t know any better it’d seem that he has the upper hand, but the rogue’s eyes glint in a way 2B recognizes all too well. She’s baiting him. 

9S slams his blade against the rogue’s, pressing all of his power and weight into the strike. It’s the moment she had been waiting for. Suddenly she pulls back, letting 9S’ weight fall forward and forcing him off balance. She kicks his legs out from under him then shoves him into the floor. 9S lets out a startled, choked gasp as his weight and the force of the rogue’s attack cracks the stone floor, sending up more clouds of dust into the air. 

Clutching her chest, 2B roars and charges at the target with blinding speed. When she sees the smirk twisting the rogue’s lips and the pointed iron rod in her grip, it’s too late. With a flash of her crowfeather cape, the android meets 2B’s charge with her own, the skewer aimed at her wounded chest. 2B tries to divert her body away, but the momentum is too strong. It’s just enough to roll her body to the side so that the spike pierces clean through her shoulder, clear of critical systems. 

The pain, however, is agonizing. 

It’s different from the injuries 2B has suffered in the past. Countless machine swords, spears, and axes have torn through her body and of course all of those injuries hurt, but they were manageable. When the iron bar rips through layers of cloth, skin, carbon plating and frame, and synthetic muscle fibers it's as if her shoulder has been set on fire. She clenches her teeth, muffling a scream to a low growl. Her hand wraps around the skewer, close to the wound itself. Instinct tells her to tear it out immediately, but she knows that without treatment doing so would only worsen her condition. 2B doesn’t get to make that decision, unfortunately. The rogue grabs hold of the end of the iron rod and twists it side to side, driving it further into 2B’s shoulder. 

2B sinks to her knees and tries to hold back the cries of agony. Her injured arm stops responding to commands and lies limp and useless against her side. She swats at the rogue android with her weakening other arm, desperate to escape from this torment. Her strength fades along with her vision; it becomes impossible to even hold herself upright.

She must not fall, she must not… she must stay strong, she must stay alive.

She will not allow him to die… 

Not for the sake of a monster like her….

9S leaps into the fight as the rogue android prepares a killing blow. A flurry of Pod fire, sword strikes, and furious movement all blur together into a white, gold, and black haze. She fights to stay awake, she fights to stand, but her body begins to shut down non-vital systems and conserve as much energy as she can. First her tactile sensors switch off, leaving her in a numbing cold. Then her hearing, quickly followed by sight. A warning flashes across the last vestiges of her vision that she is entering a forced shutdown state, and despite her audio sensors being deactivated, she swears she hears 9S cry out for her.

….

….

…….

………

……….

……..

….

2B opens her eyes to the blinding, sterile white of hacking space. This itself is not shocking. Oftentimes she would run diagnostics on her critical systems when in a forced shutdown, both to manage critical systems and to keep herself busy. 

But now, in the distance, there is an anomaly.

A single figure, black as night, approaches her. It’s shape is human up till its head, which sports pointed ears and a long snout like that of a dog or wolf. It looms over her and leaves a black, fragmented mist in its wake. But most troubling of all in this world of stark monochrome is its eye…. or what 2B believes is an eye. In the center of its lupine face is a strange geometric sigil that emits a highly saturated purple light. It feels… malicious. The thought itself is insane to 2B. Light cannot possess intent or emotions, and yet… 

“This is an unacceptable outcome.” A voice booms in her head. Somehow she knows it is the entity speaking. 

2B opens her mouth to respond, but instead of words, thick crimson fluid leaks from her throat.

“You will die. He will die. You cannot abide by this.”

She shakes her head. Droplets of blood fall to the pristine floor. The entity is right. If she has any strength left, 9S will live.

“Stand, little doll,” the entity commands, “Stand and unleash y-...Be——…..d.”

The entity’s voice becomes warped and distorted with audio glitches, yet 2B understands its words with frightening clarity.

“Take-......l-...s within.” 

It holds a hand out to her, offering her something she can’t quite make out. The shape in its palm is amorphous, colorless, and flickers with lines of jumbled code. Somehow, she knows this piece of herself in intimate detail, yet cannot remember what this does or what its relation to the entity is. 

But it promises strength enough to save 9S.

2B reaches out and takes the code in her hand… 

….

………….

…………………………

………………………………………………………..

Her eyes snap open. A current of raw energy runs through her body, electrifying every nerve and sensor within her. She shakes with each pulse of her circulatory apparatus as a new, terrifying strength takes hold. 2B rises to her feet, flexing her hands, legs, arms. One arm’s movement is restricted by the iron bar still stuck in her shoulder. She tears it out with little effort, casting it to the floor. The rattling, hollow sound echoes against the stone chapel. 

The rogue’s head snaps up from her combat with 9S, who is barely able to hold his sword. Something in her expression changes. She kicks 9S and points her sword at 2B, her arms shaking in a way they had not before. 

2B lunges forward, her sword raised high. The rogue raises her own sword to deflect, but 2B’s newfound strength breaks her guard with one mighty strike. With blinding speed 2B slices through the rogue android’s body. Her crowfeather cape flutters to the floor, soon followed by her arm. The rouge android staggers back, an expression of shock and horror twisting her face. 2B drives her sword through the rogue’s chest, forcing her back further. Instead of drawing her sword back for another strike, a terrifying feeling takes over 2B. She leaves the sword inside the rogue’s chest and tackles her to the ground. With her bare hands and horrible strength, 2B delivers blow after blow to the android’s chest, shoulder, arms, head, and abdomen. Each piece is reduced to a pulp of flesh and metal one after the next until nothing remains but scrap. 

2B throws her head back as she straddles her victim, a horrible, twisted grin plastered across her face and arms outstretched. Her body feels wrong… horribly wrong, yet for the first time since she can remember, her chest is light. She gazes up at the morbid sculpture with an emotion she can’t quite describe. It isn’t the same as a combat high, she is intimately familiar with that heady rush. This is something akin to… euphoria. A laugh begins to bubble up in her throat-

“2B?”

She’s forced back to reality by the 9S’ voice, right beside her ear. Suddenly, the terrible strength from moments before fades from her body. Her arms go limp by her sides, and it becomes hard to sit upright. Even breathing is laborious. 9S wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her gently, laying her head and shoulders against his chest.

“I’ve got you. We… I think we’re safe.” His breathing is uneven and ragged, much like 2B’s. He swivels his head back and forth, searching for any lingering threats as quickly as possible. “Pod, run a scan for machine lifeform or android signals in the immediate area,” he commands.

Pod 153 is silent for a moment, then emits a grating, hideous garbled noise. Words try to break through the audio distortions but neither 2B or 9S is confident it isn’t simply what they wish to hear. 

“Alert:” Pod 042 begins, “Interference from unknown source is preventing accurate scans of the surrounding area. Proposal: Relocate to an elevated aaaaaaa…..a-r-....rrr……”

The same audio distortions come from 042, mingling with 153’s until they both cut off, leaving the androids in silence. “Pod?” 9S calls to the floating support unit. “Pod, respond. ... Pod?”

2B mutters weakly to her own Pod, but it's the same as 9S’. No response at all.

9S pulls up a small data screen, map data, from what 2B can tell. Or… where map data would be. Instead, there’s a blank, grey screen and a little message box that reads No Data. 

“What the-...” 9S whispers, flipping through different screens at a frantic pace. “Where-... There’s… all the data is gone!” he shouts, “No map, no signal scans… I can’t even connect to the Bunker…”

“We’re stranded…” 2B muses aloud.

Silence passes between them. Only the ominous wind passing through ancient wood and stone reminds them that the world hasn’t stopped moving around them. 

“We should move to a higher area, like your Pod said.” 9S suggests, rising to his feet. “Can you stand?”

When 9S offers a hand out to her, 2B takes it without thinking. His touch, even through his thick gloves, calms the beast pacing inside her. 

Beast? 

…..What does that mean?

2B rises to her feet, her hands lingering in 9S’ for a moment longer than she normally would. There’s a fog in her head that distorts her equilibrium. She leans on 9S for support, to which he wraps his arm around her waist and positions himself under her shoulder.

“I got you.” He says with a small smile.

2B feels just a bit lighter.

They exit the chapel and make for higher ground. 9S rationalizes that if they simply continue up stairs or inclines they would find a space clear of whatever is interfering with the Pod’s satellite connections. Perhaps it’s the fog that creeps across the cobblestone streets or the odd angle of the sun (not that it makes sense to 9S or 2B but they have to consider all possibilities), or perhaps it’s something beyond that. There’s a strange, eerie feeling about this city that neither can explain, and neither want to talk about. As if there’s a presence constantly watching over them.

They climb the stairs of one of the massive sprawling religious buildings. From what 9S assesses, it seems to have one of the tallest spires in the city. Only a larger time-keeping building looming in the distance is larger. If he could reach the top he should be far enough above whatever is interfering with the Pods. When he relays his plan to 2B who only nods, her eyes unfocused and breathing shallow, worry starts to lace its icy fingers through his chest. Something is wrong with her. 

9S’ first instinct is to prepare a data backup with the bunker, but the Pods are both out of commission for the time being. His next is to contact command and ask how they should proceed, to the same conclusion. Climbing the spire is the only course of action he can take, but first, he has to make sure 2B is safe.

He leads her through the castle of worship, now supporting most of her weight. That… frightening show of strength must have exhausted her power supply. There are plenty of well preserved wooden benches that stretch across half of the main worship chambers, at least it would be more comfortable than the stone floors. Under watch by the countless grotesque statues that sit in the rafters, 9S helps 2B onto a long bench, laying her on her back. She hisses and grinds her teeth as she moves. She must have sustained internal damage from that fight… 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, “I’m going to go to the roof to get a clear signal.”

All 2B gives in response is a slow nod. He lingers by her side before leaving, a moment longer than needed.

Now alone in this spacious, hollow, human structure, 2B takes stock of her condition. There’s pain in her shoulders, particularly her right arm. Her legs are tight, most locking up from the strain of the previous battle and trekking up to her current location. Her back, as well, is tense beyond discomfort. It spasms and jolts if she breathes too hard. At least these are injury related, explainable. The black wolfman with purple eyes lingering in the corners of her vision, is not. 

She sees the entity in the shadows, lurking just out of view. 9S walks right past it, not even sparing a glance at the tall, gangly creature. It doesn’t respond to 9S either, instead focusing on 2B and only 2B. 

The sight of it makes her stomach turn. She tries to close her eyes, but the glowing, purple sigil is burned into her vision. With a groan she digs her knuckles into her eyelids as if she could carve the hallucination out of the air. Defeated, 2B lets her arms down once more. One hand touches the cool stone floor, decorated with elegant mosaics, and she suddenly realizes how warm she is. According to the warning messages displayed in her vision her body temperature is ten degrees above normal levels. 

“Pod,” she groans, forcing herself to sit up, “retrieve water from storage-”

“Report: Mail notification received from Command.”

The monotone voice of her support unit shocks her. Pod 042 had been silent up until now due to whatever interference was in the area, and now it’s getting messages from Command? 9S must have established a connection from the roof.

Her heart sinks. If that’s the case he would contact her. The first thing she’d hear would be his voice.

She opens the message, dreading its contents.

Subject has accessed confidential records. Eliminate the Target.

At the top of the spire 9S takes in the view of the entire city, the wind rushing through his hair. It’s breathtaking. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. The sky dyes the entire urban sprawl red, as well as the mountains on the horizon. His pulse races as he drinks in the terrifying awe of what the ancient humans were capable of, hoping to remember every last detail of the buildings, the streets, and the magnificent sculptures that litter the city. It’s all so well preserved that he feels as though a human might appear, walking down the cobblestone streets as if nothing were wrong. As if they didn’t go extinct. 

Reluctantly he draws his attention away from the splendor of humanity’s ruins, and shakes away the creeping emptiness that comes with that line of thought. He can’t think about that now. He and 2B are stranded. 9S produces a holographic terminal that mirrors Pod 153’s settings menu. Pod’s diagnostics on his end show buildup of foreign material in and around certain receivers, something that 9S expects, but that is only part of the problem. It seems that the atmosphere in this place is clogged with various chemicals and particles that make satellite transmissions more difficult. Considering all of the decaying metal and stone it’s no wonder that there’s so much particulate in the air. Once Pod’s receivers are clear 9S has Pod 153 hover just above the spire’s tip. It stays suspended in the air, the small light on the top of its body turning on and off at regular intervals.

“Connection established.” Pod 153 announces moments later. “Proposal: Contact the Bunker for support.”

“Great! Set up a relay connection for Pod 042 as well.”

“Affirmative.”

9S opens a data screen laden with information and begins composing his message to Operator 21O. With an unreliable connection a live call would be too risky, a simple text based message won’t be distorted or cut out. He records a brief message, attaches a transcription of his words, and sends it to the Bunker. Hopefully 21O would send something quickly-

A flash of movement in the streets below catches his eye. Something running on all fours... “Pod… run a scan for machine lifeforms…” He says, a chill creeping up his spine.

Pod 153 floats down to his side. “Alert: Multiple machine lifeforms detected. Proposal: Regroup with Unit 2B.”

“But-” 

That thing didn’t look like a machine…

“Alert: Anomalous signal detect-”

Pod 153’s words are drowned by a horrific, mournful howl that reverberates through the entire building. 9S clings to the ornate decorations on the spire and covers his ears with his free hand. His body runs cold. He’s never heard a sound like that before. Nothing the machines make comes close to that. The pain and sorrow in that noise is something that no animal could produce either. That left only one possibility…

Another roar wracks the building from within… 

2B clutches the sides of her head, the data screen long dismissed.

No…

Her chest strains under her panicked breaths. 

No.

She hadn’t been watching him. She hadn’t been keeping track of his questions and behavior…

No… No.

And now she…

No no no no no .

She has to…

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

NO.

She will not do this. Not again. 

Her skin feels… tight. 

She will fight off every single goddamn android Command sends until there are none left but her and him. She will not be a part of this cycle again. Her hands curl into fists as a surge rushes through her body, alighting her nerves with energy. With power.

A shadow moves across the stone floor of the castle of worship. The entity, its form inky black, its sigil emitting a baleful purple light, glides towards her. It bathes her in the highly saturated light, a light not even shielding her eyes can diffuse. It bores into her core, it peers into her mind. It speaks into her mind.

“You will not allow this to happen.” Its voice echoes off the hollow shell of where humans once sought God. “But strength comes at a price, little doll.”

The entity plunges its claws into her chest. Heat explodes throughout her body to the point where she fears she might self-destruct. The boiling tendrils of this ethereal monster sink into her artificial heart and her Black Box. Something activates, or… unlocks, and suddenly she feels… confined. Her body… it’s too small….

“Time to pay the toll…”

It rips its claws, now writhing shadow-like whips, out of her chest, then vanishes. 2B’s vision is obscured, but not by warnings and error messages, by blood. Red veins pulse on the edges of her sight in time with her heart. Each beat sends waves of heat, electricity, and agony through her body.

“Stand, little doll. Stand, and unleash your beasthood.”

A scream forms in 2B’s throat, but it cannot break through her swelling throat and gritted teeth. She takes frantic, shallow breaths. Her limbs shake, her fingernails dig into the stonework floor. It’s so hot… 

2B rolls onto the floor and rips away her tight uniform. Far too tight. Parts of her dress were already beginning to tear as her muscles swell. Blood trickles from various wounds where her skin has split, revealing the thick, synthetic muscle cords that lie beneath. Her blindfold is next, but removing it does not help her vision. One eye is unfocused, blurring all of her vision.

She drags her fingernails across her body and lets out a deep, animal snarl when she tears into her own flesh. Looking down at her hands, she recoils at the sight of long, black claws that split her fingers down the center. Skin falls from them in long strips to the point where the mechanical joints of her hands are exposed.

Something snaps inside her, somewhere in her upper back. She howls in agony, in sorrow, as her spine lengthens, twists, and grows too fast for her body to maintain. Her insides are compacted and grind against each other, sending sickening vibrations throughout her. Her throat finally opens up, allowing her to breathe. She watches as puffs of steam escape her mouth into the warm twilight air. 

Another crack and something explodes out of her lower back. Her balance is thrown off and she falls forward, smashing her face into stone. Another snarl, this one combined with the gnashing of fangs. Her mouth warps, splitting out of her face into a muzzle. Eyes follow, one swelling to fit its now spacious socket while the other stunts and refuses to change. She claws at the peeling skin of whatever she can reach, spilling more of her blood in the process. Everything hurts, everything itches, but oh god the power feels so good.

A growth springs from above her unchanged eye, weighing her head down and hunching her body over. She supports herself with one enormous hand, the other scooping the wires and tubing that spills out of her torn stomach and forcing them back inside her abdominal cavity. The twisting extension of her spine, a tail, thuds against the floor and counters the weight of her head. 

2B shakes the mane of bloodied, white hair from her functioning eye, turns her head to the sky, and roars.

[xxmyhomexx]

Hazbin Hotel: The Club

This is my first story based on a new series that caught my interest, Hazbin Hotel. I haven’t watched it all, but I like the idea of Charlie and Alastor. And this is AU, meaning it has no revelation to the series! Enjoy :)

~~~

Charlie’s black eyes danced uneasily through the waves of people on the dancefloor. It was another stressful day at the Hazbin Hotel, and after feeling overwhelmed with such somewhat of a poor start, Vaggie and Angel Dust decided she needed a night out in Pentagram City. Dark Abyss, a new club that just opened, was the place they settled on, even though Charlie was against it as it was the weekend and there were still many things to prepare for Hazbin.

Despite her protests, here she was now sitting at the bar watching Vaggie and Angel Dust swinging their arms and twirling their hips to the loud music the DJ played in his booth. She shifted one leg over the other and pulled the skirt of her black sleeveless cocktail dress down when it shifted upward, exposing her long white legs. She tucked a strand of hair that fell from her braided bun behind her ear, tapping one of her kitten heels nervously on the floor.

Why was this a good idea again, she asked herself mentally. Clubbing was not her scene, and although she always loved a good drink once in awhile, dancing and wasted brought a bad taste to her mouth. She remembered for her birthday, Vaggie and Angel surprised her with a day out at a casino, and the night ended with them forcing her arms over their shoulders so she could actually stand in her room at Hazbin.

“Ugh,” she shuttered. “Never again.” 

“What can I get you, my beauty?” a black male spider-demon with four arms caught her attention. She saw two arms handing out drinks to other demons while the other two carried a pen and note pad.

“Uh...I’m sorry, I’m not in a drinking mood tonight. Perhaps something fruity and nonalcoholic?”

“One strawberry mocktail coming right up!” the spider demon smiled at her showing a row of red pointed fangs. “And uh, don’t worry about payment, pretty thing. It’s already on the house.”

“Really? That’s so sweet of you!” Charlie smiled.

“Sorry, honey, I wish it were me, but the owner actually beat me to it. He’s sitting right beside ya.”

Charlie tilted her head and swiveled in her seat, gasping and almost falling out when she noticed an all-too-familiar radio demon downing a shot of liquor beside her. Alastor, one of the most powerful demons in Hell, gifted her a sharp-tooth smile while adjusting his monocle above his right eye. Instead of a red suit and bowtie, Alastor opted for a more casual approach. Charlie’s red cheeks reddened deeper at his half-sleeve white collared shirt, tan khakis, and brown loafers. He didn’t remind her of the bartering demon who promised to help her with Hazbin, he appeared a total stranger.

His red eyes danced on her like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. His ears perked up and his antlers grew three inches in size as soon as Charlie spotted him. His radio-like laugh boomed in her ears as he rested his chin in his hand, tapping a finger against his cheek fondly.

“You and your friends enjoying your evening, my dear?”

“Alastor,” Charlie regained her composure. “You’re the owner?”

“A demon can enjoy pleasuring others without devouring souls, darling. And of course I am! Welcome to Dark Abyss, Charlotte Magne!” 

He jumped out of his seat and wrapped one arm around her, addressing the business around them. Demons tapped glasses together, and Vaggie and Angel Dust were busy conversing with strangers. Angel Dust caught the attention of a random orange wolf-demon while Vaggie was laughing with two other girls. Charlie groaned as Alastor raised her fruity mocktail to her lips, urging her to have a drink.

“It’s ok, Charlie,” he tilted his head as the demon princess gulped. “Relax, my dear. You don’t have to be drunk to have fun, child.” 

Charlie’s body went rigid in his arms as he leaned the glass closer to her mouth, parting her lips so she could take a few sips. The taste of strawberries was tarte and desiring on her tongue, running all the way down her throat when she took another swig. Alastor chuckled as he handed her her drink, his eyes observing her when she threw her head back to finish it all. Her curves danced out on her dress, and he could see her eyes were painted with light coats of mascara and winged eyeliner. Her face was round and poised with her hair back, a snicker leaving his throat. 

“Wow, that was good!” Charlie laughed. “Thank you for the drink, Alastor.” 

“No problem, darling,” Alastor scratched his chin. “Charlie...am I sensing...insecurity?” 

Charlie’s smile faded at the word “insecurity.” What the hell did he mean by that? After opening Hazbin, her hard work wasn’t exactly met with praise and commercial success. Katy Killjoy humiliated her on the news after her song, and almost the entire town mocked her and her friends. It was almost enough to bring her spirits even lower, and without her parents, it felt she was alone if it hadn’t been for Vaggie and Angel Dust. The demon princess clutched her glass tighter in her hands, turning away from Alastor and frowning. Even when her mother couldn’t answer her phone, she always left her daughter voicemails of encouragement and lighthearted notes.

And on top of the stress, clubbing wasn’t really much of a scene for her. She thought a nice night in her room or making rounds in the hotel were another way of destressing, a huge contrast from Angel Dust and Vaggie’s idea of fun. Alastor sensed her sadness and harrumphed, tilting her chin with a lift of his index finger to direct her attention back to him. Charlie gasped when she was suddenly pinned between the bar and the radio demon, a demonic purr emanating from his lungs.

“Let loose, Charlie,” Alastor urged her. “Have fun.”

He took her hand and lead her through the crowd of dancers until they were in the middle of the floor. Charlie’s chest grew heavy and images played in her mind, imagining the distasteful looks and angry eyes of partygoers. They were judging her, no! She couldn’t live with the rejection. She shut her eyes tight until Alastor’s hands massaged her shoulders, his head burying into the crook of her neck until his breath was hot in her ear. 

“Relax, sweetie,” he assured her. “They’re not looking at you.” 

One arm wrapped around her and brought her closer, her chest pressing against her back and his hands sliding down her front until they were planted on her waist. He started rocking his hips back and forth, his hands urging her hips to move in motion. Charlie rested her head against his muscular chest and did just that, running her fingers up Alastor’s arms until her hands were wrapped around his neck. She closed her eyes and smiled as she grinded against him, bucking herself against him. Alastor groaned and twirled her around, sliding his hands down her back.

Charlie’s legs started to kick, and Alastor smiled at her. She ran her hands through her hair, untying her braided bun and letting her long locks fall over her shoulders. he threw her hair back as the music took to her soul, her hair fanning around her as Alastor backed up slowly to watch her dance.

Every shift of her leg, every twirl of her hips, his gaze was on her. Charlie’s skirt fanned before her as she spun on her toes, a huge smile on her lips. Alastor growled and grabbed her again, dipping her in his arms close to the floor before helping her up in a bow. One of Charlie’s legs wrapped around his waist, and Alastor leaned forward just inches from her face.

“Charlie,” his voice cut deep. “You’re beautiful.”

“Take me away, Alastor,” Charlie wrapped her arms around his neck to hoist herself up. “Just you and me.”

“What about your friends?” Alastor challenged. “You know how protective Vaggie is with you.”

“They can take care of themselves,” Charlie insisted. “I just want you.”

Alastor hissed and widened his already huge grin. “As the lady wishes.”

~~~

Alastor locked the door to the VIP room and flipped on the light, a huge couch surrounding two tables. Charlie watched as he sauntered to the main seat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, motioning the demon princess towards him. Charlie gulped and her legs began to shake when she started to amble towards him. Her weight caught up with her when she stopped in front of him, shifting nervously at what to do. 

“You’re beautiful,” Alastor ran his fingers through her hair. “Even after seeing you on that picture show.”

“Ugh!” Charlie grunted when he flung her on her on the couch, straddling her like a cat. The cool black leather chilled her bare back, or maybe it was Alastor’s fingers sliding up her curves. Charlie gasped and arched her back when they rested on her chest. Alastor caught the front zipper between his thumb and index finger, jingling it for some time.

“Ah-ah, Charlie,” he eased her on the couch. “You’re mine. And tonight...I get to do whatever I want.” 

Her eyes darted when he dragged it down slowly and painfully, exposing her lingerie. She sat up so she could help him out of it, sliding it to the floor until she felt bare. It killed Alastor to see her in all black, dangerously licking his lips. He knelt on the floor and unstrapped her kitten heels, tossing them to the side before climbing on top of her. Charlie groaned when he started to rid himself of his own clothing, first his shirt followed by his pants. 

She had no idea that a radio demon could look this sexy. His six-pack and biceps stood out, and when he ran a hand through his hair, she was about done for. She suddenly felt exposed, almost covering herself before Alastor grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head making her yelp.

“No covering yourself!” he warned her, his eyes flashing dangerously. His glare rocked Charlie’s nerves, only turning her on more. Nodding, Charlie closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Alastor’s demands. He kissed her deeply, interlacing his fingers in between hers. He parted her lips with his tongue, exploring her mouth thoroughly and decisively. Charlie moaned when he pulled away and worked his lips across her jaw and down her throat.

“Alastor!” she gasped. He started to kiss his way down her ridgeline, hands kneading at every single sensitive area he could find. His fingers payed extra special attention, amused at hearing her yelps and whimpers. After he was finished, he kissed his way down her navel. 

“Oh no!” Charlie gasped, arching her back. This torture was doing it in for her, and she just wanted him now. She rolled her hips to his, silently begging him to end his reign of terror. Alastor ignored her quiet please as he pecked at her ribs and trailed his teeth across each ridge, causing the princess to grate her teeth.

“You’re quite sensitive here, aren’t you?” Alastor whispered.

“Alastor...p-please...” Charlie begged. 

“Please what, princess?”

“Ugh...um...I...” 

“Sssshhh,” Alastor caressed her lips with the tip of his finger and smiled. “Good girl.”

He closed the distance between them and that was it. Soon, Alastor collapsed on top of her, his chest lowering and rising. He cradled Charlie in his arms, both exhausted but happy in their blissful moment. 

“You’re mine now, Charlotte Magne,” Alastor cupped her face and smiled kindly. “You beautiful woman.”

“I love you, Alastor.”

“Not as much as I you, princess.” 

Charlie kissed him and her fate was sealed. 

[sedge-and-sanctuary]

Wolvember Day Five: Scouting

This entry was inspired by a conversation I had with @bone-wolves about a pup they traded me! We decided our scouts, Rover and Pietro, could have met to kick off the trade. This is Rover’s account of that meeting-- but she’s got no issues with lying to tell a good story. Assume that pretty much anything she says abt Pietro and the Rowan’s Shade Pack are at the very least extremely exaggerated, if not completely untrue lol

Now on w/ the show!

“And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the ground underfoot-- oh, even the ground was trying to eat me alive!”

Rover swivels to meet the each of the pups’ eyes in turn.

Dane is staring, eyes wide as saucers; his sister, Setter, feigns disinterest, but her ears are swiveled in Rover’s direction, straining to hear. Little Perch has her paws over her nose, peeking up only once in a while. 

And Finch-- Finch looks as unimpressed as always.  “It was a swamp,” he says. “There was mud.”

Seven whole words-- not a bad record for him.

 Rover shakes her head. “Ah but Finch-- you’ve never seen a swamp like this. It was alive, I’m telling you-- mud? Hah! I would have given my tail for some mud right about then! No-- that swamp wanted me dead. 

I was picking my way across a log; all rotted by rain and slippery underfoot. I was concentrating just to keep my balance on it-- when, just to distract me, a voice cried out in the fog!

“Enemy,”* it said; “You should have told me before coming here!”

I almost lost my grip on the log-- the cold spirits in the water reached up and clutched at me, their icy claws--”

“Rover,” Finch says, warningly. Perch has her face pressed entirely into his fur, her tail tucked between her legs. 

Rover clears her throat. “But,” she says, quickly, “I managed to escape their clutches once again, and turned to meet my new assailant-- a wolf. Or at least, he seemed to be. As I discovered, much about this place wasn’t as it seemed. 

“Enemy,” he said again, his strange accent twisting the words, and approached me through the fog. “Stop-- who are you?”

“Rover,” I told him, “Of The Pack at Sanctuary! I’m no wolf’s enemy-- unless they choose to be mine.”

He bared his teeth at me; they gleamed in the night like a shark’s! Rows upon rows of them!”

Setter bares her teeth in imitation and mock-growls, tackling her brother. The two go wrestling across the ground, biting at one another. 

Perch peeks up from Finch’s side. “Who was he?”

“Hm?”

“The tooth wolf!”

"The tooth wolf-- he was Pietro, the scout of a pack that called themselves…” Rover pauses, waiting until all three pups are looking at her. “The bone wolves!”

Perch gasps, her fur bushed out like a startled cat’s.

“This- ‘Pietro’ brought me to the lair of his pack; he led me through every switchback and sinkhole he could, hoping I would be pulled away; I was soaked through and muddy, pups, and all clawed about by the waters’ spirits, but Pietro-- he remained dry and safe as can be.”

“So you fell in the water,” Finch says. “And he didn’t.”

“Call it what you will.” Rover sniffs. “It became clear to me that there was some strange magic at work. And clearer still once we reached his lair: a Rowan Tree growing vaster than any I’ve seen in these woods. Unnatural, I tell you.” 

The pups are rapt; even Perch has crawled forward, a little, out of Finch’s protection, to sit closer by Rover’s feet.

“And this wolf Pietro-- he began to threaten me. To say that even his new puppies could best me in a fight; that they were strong and clever, and could grind my bones to dust should they choose. And then-- oh pups! And then... the pack’s leader emerged! 

She looked normal at first. But I would swear that as she moved through a beam of moonlight, her glamour fell away, and saw what she truly was: a monster of many limbs and many heads, with many mouths and many eyes! 

And then, in the space of just a blink, she looked a normal wolf again. Such powerful illusions-- a wolf like her could walk among us even here.”

“There’s no such thing,” Finch says, flat. 

Rover she turns on him, voice lowered to a whisper.  “It could even be you, Fincher. What secrets do you hide?”

He scowls mutely at her over Perch’s head. The effect is reduced, a little, for his angry face being framed by two floppy puppy-ears. 

Rover goes on: “This strange wolf spoke with Pietro a long while- deciding my fate, no doubt! To be fed to this pack of hungry spirits? To be set free to wander the swamps alone, lost, never again to be found?

And then, pups- this is the strangest part. The leader came to me- and gave me a pup of her own litter. She said she was ‘curious’. Well-- I didn’t stay to ask what she meant! I knew it was my first duty to bring this pup to safety, and I fled that place as if death’s hounds where on my heels!”

“But you were OK!” Setter says, a little anxiously. “You’re here!”

“Yes.” Rover noses at her pup; Setter yips in delight and romps a circle around her, flopping down at Rover’s paws. “Yes. After a long journey, carrying the poor, terrified pup in my jaws-- we arrived back at Sanctuary. The strangers couldn’t follow us here-- we’re safe in these mountains.”

Rover bends one foreleg in invitation, and Dane stumbles over to join his sister between Rover’s paws. 

“But,” she says. “Be careful not to tread outside of camp-- not without one of us with you. Who knows what creatures still lurk in the shadows outside our territory?”

Well, and Rover had gone and stirred up the pups again. It’s always a chore and a half, getting them settled after her stories. It had taken no small effort, on Finch’s part, to get Setter and Dane to stop re-enacting ‘ghost wolf’ battles and scaring the marrow straight out of Perch.

Finch huffs, turning to take his nightly lap around the camp. One last check, before he goes to bed. Just to make sure everything’s safe. 

The night is warm and gentle; a long, purple, summer evening, the bright day fading only slowly into dusk.

“Finch?” Says a voice behind him.

It’s Carnassial. The ‘terrified pup’ of Rover’s inane story. Her eyes shine up at him in the dark, gold and liquid.

“You should be with Saturn.” He sniffs her over; yes. There’s the sharp, herbal smell of the healers’, thick in her fur.

“She said I could go.”

“She did?”

“I’m all better.” Carnassial opens her mouth; her teeth gleam in the dark. Like a sharks’, says Rover’s voice in the back of Finch’s mind. Rows upon rows of them. “See? No more sore throat.”

Finch blinks. Stupid. “Yes. I see.”

Carnassial is looking up at him, still-- and still drooping, her stumpy puppy-tail dragging nearly in the dirt.

Finch noses at her, worried. Is she still sick? Unexpectedly, she leans up and rubs her cheek against his, her little body trembling. 

“Nassi,” he says, startled.

Carnassial buries her nose against his neck; he can feel her taking deep, shaky breaths. 

“Hey. What is it?”

“--is it true?” She says, muffled against his neck. “Rover’s story?”

Finch blinks. He’s going to kill that no-good wolf, and scat to what Seven has to say about it. A growl builds in his throat, low and rumbling. “You listened to that?”

“Sorry.” Carnassial backs away. “I was gonna say something, but I didn’t--”

“No,” Finch says, low. “Don’t be sorry. It isn’t true.”

"It isn’t?”

“You were born to another pack. Rover brought you here. That’s all.” He grunts, stands. “Come.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll sleep in my den, tonight.” He pauses. Looks back at her. “If you like?”

Carnassial wastes no time in coming after him, butting his leg with her shoulder as they walk.

She is a tiny, warm thing, curled between his paws that night. Just a puppy; silver fur and outsized ears and a dark, twitching nose. 

Perfectly formed. 

*Pietro actually said “Enit” here, not Enemy’; he mistook Rover for Enit, the Rowan’s Shade Packs’ leader! Like most of the rest of this story, Rover has misunderstood or deliberately mischaracterized this in order to make her story more ~spoooooky

[All art assets in this story belong to Wolvden]