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astarionxhappiness · 3 months

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Summary: Astarion gets badly injured in a fight, and you have to take care of him while waiting to be found.

Word count: 5,781

Warnings: Astarion being hurt.

It was just another fight.

That was what you thought, at least.

Just another day of danger and adventure.

Never for a second when you woke up that morning did you think you and your companions would be scrambling for your lives.

"Head for the cave!" You heard Shadowheart scream to you over the sounds of the exploding fireballs.

Smoke filled the air thickly, making it hard to see. The thick smoke filled your lungs, making it hard to breath.

Your eyes darted around, trying to find the location she spoke of.

You tensed as a large hand wrapped around your bicep, making you nearly drop your weapon as you were yanked to the left.

Your gaze snapped in the direction of the newcomer, relief washing over you when you laid eyes on Astarion, though he did not seem to share this feeling.

"Things are getting far messier than I care for. I'd say it is time we leave, darling."

He kept a firm grip on your arm, pulling you through the smoke that filled your lungs painfully.

You yelped as you were both suddenly thrown forward by a violent explosion landing not two feet directly behind you, sending both of you flying forward.

The vampire managed to turn himself to land on his shoulder instead of his face, though thanks to the grip on your arm, it made it far more difficult for you to land with similar grace, instead falling direction on top of him causing him to grunt in pain.

"Has anyone ever told you that you weigh far to much to be throwing yourself on people, darling?" He questioned rhetorically, winded from the impact.

"Well next time let's try it with you catching me without my weapons and armor, hm?" You retorted, making him smile.

"Well, so long as you're offering," He replied with a sly smile.

You couldn't help letting out a breathy laugh despite the adrenaline coursing through you, smacking his arm before moving to get off of him.

You yelped when a bolt of lightning suddenly struck right beside the two of you.

You moved instinctively to shield the vampire with your body, looking down at him questioningly as the dirt settled, as though scared something had passed through you to hurt him instead.

He was already looking up at you, seeming taken aback by this show of care, still not used to such acts of love and loyalty.

Neither of you were able to dwell in the moment, though, certain that the next mage would likely not miss.

You yanked him to his feet, grabbing his hand and starting at a blind sprint, squinting through the thick black smoke.

You did not bother looking back for the others as you reached the edge of the smoke cloud, listening to the sounds of battle still going strong in the distance.

"In here," You commanded when you spotted a small hole in the rocks up ahead that you could squeeze into.

His hand still in yours, you took off running.

You were close. so close-

A cry of pain coming from your left was the first indication of something being wrong.

Your head turned, the scene playing out in slow motion before your very eyes as you watched with horror as an arrow slid through Astarion's back, the tip of it shoving violently through the front of his shirt.

Your scream sounded distant to your own ears as you quickly turned to grab him just as he started to fall, his eyes giving away the shock of being impaled.

"Shadowheart!" You screeched, struggling to keep him on his feet.

Now he was heavy.

"No- no nononono-" You felt your stomach in your throat, your heart pounding as you watched blood leaking from the elf's mouth.

"Astarion, don't you dare faint on me! " You cried, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, adrenaline driving you, giving you the strength to practically carry him to the nook that promised you both safety.

You slipped between the narrow walls of stone, panting as you carefully sat him down.

"Star, hey, look at me," You pleaded as his eyes seemed unable to focus.

"I don't. . I don't feel well, love" he murmured distractedly, sounding dazed.

"Hey, hey--look at me! It's not that bad. It's not even that bad. Just breathe," You ordered through tears that started to well in your eyes, your dirty hands coming to cup his equally messy face as you pressed your forehead to his.

"Just focus, okay? You're gonna be okay. I have some healing potions, and Shadowheart is gonna find us" Despite your assurances, you couldn't stop the sob that left you, desperately petting his face before moving off to grab the potion. "Drink, okay? Just drink." You put the rim to his lips, a hand under his chin to help him drink, using your other hand to help tilt his head back.

"Do you remember when we first met?" He murmured distractedly when he finished, his head falling back against the rock behind him.

"Yeah," You whispered. "Of course I do." You went to looking at the arrow, whimpering as you listened to him cough, a small bit of blood and liquid from the potion coming up.

"You were so unsuspecting. . I never told you this, but I always felt bad for trying to kill you. . " You looked up at him, sniffling as you leaned forward to press your face against the side of his.

"No, no don't feel bad. You aren't supposed to feel bad. You're supposed to b-be unremorseful, and cocky and-" You cut off when your throat constricted too tightly for you to speak. "Please," You whispered, letting out a soft, helpless sob. "You're gonna be okay. I don't want you to be embarrassed telling me this when you're better because you are gonna be better." You grabbed another healing potion, though you knew it was futile. The arrow he had been hit with had a poison on it. And unless you could get him a healer, no amount of the potions or magic you could offer him would fix it.

he let out a soft laugh, grimacing in pain, brows furrowing.

"I won' be embarrassed," He replied dizzily. "I want you to know that. . That I care about you, okay?" he took in a deep breath, letting out a slight laugh before whimpering in pain.

The sound shattered your heart.

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb tenderly against your soft skin, wiping away a tear.

You grabbed at his wrist with both hands, bloodying it in the process due to having been trying to mess with the wound to help it stop bleeding so much.

"I love you," You whispered. "You aren't allowed to leave me, do you understand? I won't let you. I'm gonna figure this out. We're gonna get you help." You could still hear the sounds of commotion outside, making your stomach churn.

The others could still be out there. In need of help, or dead. .

You pushed this thought away, knowing it would do nothing good to think about.

There was nothing you could do right now. You had no way to know where they were, and running back into the fight would only put yourself in danger, and possibly cause complications for the others.

You simply needed to have faith that they had made it to the cave Shadowheart had seen. Or, better yet, were heading this way now. .

"Star?" You whispered when his eyes started to lull shut.

"Astarion?" No response.

"Hey! Astarion, stay with me!" You grabbed at his shoulders as his hand slipped off your cheek, panic washing over you as you shook his upper half, careful not to cause more damage to his body as you did so.

You cursed, grabbing the knife you had from your boot and quickly cutting a line over the vein in your wrist before pressing it to his mouth, praying to god that it would give him enough strength to last a bit longer while you waited for help.

"Astarion, please wake up," You whispered desperately. "Please. . I need you."

It was a terrifying fifteen seconds before his eyes came open, having managed to get enough of the liquid down.

"Oh, thank god," You cried, keeping your wrist to his mouth, which he awkwardly adjusted around with a soft grunt

His eyes fell shut as he groaned, absently sucking, feeling far better with the strength it offered him.

"We need to get this arrow out of you," You said, looking down at it. "I'm going to need to break off the tip, and pull the sides out before I can give you the last potion. It should help with the bleeding at least."

He nodded dizzily, unable to respond verbally as he kept his mouth against your wrist.

"I'm sorry, but I am going to need both hands for this," You infromed him regreatfully, pulling away when you felt he had had enough to keep him conscious for the time being.

"Gods- Could you not have woken me up after you pulled the arrow out?" He complained as he felt you cutting into the end of the arrow sticking out of the front of his torso.

"No!" you replied heatedly. "Because I can't handle thinking I am going to lose you, and that means you are going to need to stay conscious, do you understand??" You looked up at him with what looked to be anger, but he recognized it to be pure and utter terror.

He couldn't help smiling. A truly unseemly sight due to the blood smeared over his lips, chin and teeth. Not to mention the greying notes of his skin as the poison started to take over.

Still, he was your unseemly sight. And you would do anything for the elf. Even if that meant whipping a miracle magically out of nowhere to save his sorry ass.

"Gods!" He cried out as he felt a sudden pressure on the wound when you managed to break off the arrowhead, careful not to touch it as you chucked it to the other side of the small nook.

"I know," You whispered. Pained.

"I am not entirely sure you actually do, darling," He retorted breathlessly. "I don't see an arrow sticking out of your rib cage!"

"It isn't in your ribcage, dear" You replied, pressing a rag to the wound, causing him to hiss.

" . . Regardless," He went on dizzily. "My point remains. ."

You looked up at him, frowning as you watched him try to keep his eyes focused.

You knew the blood wouldn't hold him for long. He was more lucid, but you could see the first signs of him already starting to slip away again.

"Just focus," You whispered.

"I am gonna have to lay you on your stomach. This is going ot hurt, I'm so, so sorry, Star." You took in a shaky breath, willing yourself to be strong for him. Doing your best to argue and keep him engaged.

"Wasn't I already?" He asked in confusion, making your heart sink,

"No, " You replied, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. "No, you're sitting up right now. . But I need you to lay down on your stomach. Just let me guide you, alright? Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you" he retorted, feeling your hands come up to help him maneuver carefully onto the ground.

He grunted, face smushing into the dirt.

"What sort of question even is that, darling?" He continued on, your heart twisting.

"A silly question," You murmured, moving over to sit on the backs of his legs, knowing he was probably going to try and flail when you did this.

"I need you to stay as still as you can for me, okay, Star?" he simply nodded in response, letting out a soft, dizzy groan.

You grasped the arrow carefully with both hands, surprised when you found it to be slippery with blood, only then realizing you had never staunched the bleeding from your wrist.

You grabbed a cloth quickly to offer a better grip, taking a deep breath before slowly and carefully starting to remove the long length of wood from his flesh, listening with a sickened displeasure to the mewls of pain that left his lips, his body writhing beneath you as he fought to try and make the pain stop.

"I'm sorry," You cried, throat tight. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry- It's gonna be over in just a second, I promise- I'm so sorry-" You took in a shaky breath as your resolve to stay strong was crumbling listening to the tortured sounds leave him in an unfiltered stream.

"Please," He gasped, the plea desperate and weak.

"Please make it stop-" He cried out as the last inch of the arrow slipped suddenly from his back, the resistance it had been offering you having suddenly stopped, making you go faster than you had intended.

"Okay okayokay, it's done, it's gone," You whimpered, bending down and peppering loving kisses to his shoulder as he panted in pain beneath you.

"You're okay," You went on, moving off of him and grabbing another rag quickly to press it to the wound, making him grunt.

"It's okay. . Hey, let me help you sit up, okay? You need the other healing potion." You quickly wiped away the tears blurring your eyes, replacing it with a thin layer of blood instead.

He offered you his hand to take, allowing you to help him sit up before he promptly fell backwards against the rocks, groaning as he did so.

"This is no fun," He deduced, breath heavy and shallow.

You shook your head miserably.

"Not in the fucking slightest," You stated, moving to press into his side as you gave him the last potion.

"This is the last one," You whispered. "But you can feed on me, to keep up your strength, okay?" You flinched as a firebolt struck right in front of the opening to your hide away, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I think I'd just like to sleep actually, if tha's alright with you, darling" He murmured, finding himself completely exhuasted.

"No- Hey, no you have to stay awake- Astarion!" You gave his shoulder a stressful shake, making him open his eyes again.

"Come on. Drink" You held up the potion to his lips, helping him swallow it back.

It managed to heal his wounds enough that he would not die from them. But it did little good against the poison working its way through his veins.

he coughed as he choked on some of the liquid, bringing a hand up to wipe off his lips, bloodying it in the process.

"Good," You breathed, pressing your forehead against his shoulder in relief when you felt his stomach stop bleeding.

"Just feed, okay? The others will find us. I'm sure of it." You shut your eyes as you brought your still bleeding wrist up for him, feeling his fangs sink in to the skin tiredly, though he did manage to still find the strength to bring a hand up to hold the back of yours, keeping your wrist in place as he gently sucked, swallowing the crimson liquid gratefully.

You hid the grimace of pain against his shoulder, willing to suffer far greater if it meant your sweet vampire being okay.

Though after a time, you were beginning to feel quite light headed.

Astarion had gotten quite good the past few months with learning to control his feeding so as not to hurt you, but with the poison affecting his thoughts, and making him barely conscious, he was right back to being absent-minded with it.

You didn't care at the moment. If he needed it, you would provide.

You would offer every last drop of your being if it meant buying him enough time for someone to find him and help.

You felt tears absently leaking down your face as you stayed curled up against him, your free arm wrapped around his back, holding him weakly so his side was pressing against your chest.

"I love you," You whispered, praying to any and all gods that might have been listening, willing to spare him.

You shut your eyes tightly as twin tears dripped down your cheeks.

You hesitated when you felt his grip on your hand loosen, and he let your hand fall from his lips.

You looked up at him, sniffling.

You were relieved to find that he had not stopped due to losing consciousness, but rather of his own volition.

"I . . I love you too, you know," He murmured hesitantly, never having actually been brave enough to say the words back.

You sniffled again, cupping his cheek dizzily as you brought your head up to press against the side of his hair, eyes shutting tightly as you let out a quiet sob, leaving a long, tender smooch to the side of his head after a moment.

"I know," You whispered. "That is why I know you're gonna be strong, and fight through this." you put a hand over the wound, sniffling once more as you tried to control your tears.

He smiled slightly as he looked down at you, his eyes unable to focus properly as he did so, seeing blurry doubles.

"Is it cold in here?" He asked absently, feeling a bit chilly.

You frowned.

Though it was perhaps cooler than it was outside, it certainly was not a temperature that should have bothered the elf under normal circumstances.

You put the back of your hand to his dirty forehead, stomach twisting as your fears were confirmed.

"You're getting a fever, I think," You informed him. "Most likely from the poison. ."

"We can't start a fire, I'm sorry." If the poor ventilation wasn't a problem, the attention that the light of the fire could draw most certainly would be.

"That's well," He assured. "I can just use you as a blanket instead, my sweet." He smiled at you somewhat cheekily, making you bite your lip.

"Happily," You replied, shutting your eyes when he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

You laid him down carefully, watching him shiver unpleasantly due to the cold ground.

"Let me take off you shirt, okay?" You said, moving your hands down to work on getting his dirty, blood soaked armor off.

"As much as I love pleasing you, my love, I don't think I am in the shape for such activities at the moment," He replied breathlessly.

"Gods- It is to share body head, Astarion!" You objected, running a hand worriedly through the front of his hair to brush it off his brow.

"Hmm. . Sure," He replied with a sideways smile, eyes lulling shut.

You ignored him, working quickly to get his upper half exposed. You used rags to quickly cover the wounds with to keep out dirt before doing the same to your own clothing, the thin fabric covering your breasts the only thing between you two as you laid down and pressed your body against his.

You pulled the pile of clothing over the two of you for insolation, feeling him shiver as he wrapped his arms around you, coughing absently as he did so, his throat feeling a little flemmy.

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head against your shoulder as you laid halfway on top of him, acting as a human blanket as best you could.

You cursed yourself for having dropped your scrolls during the fight. You had had one or two that would have been rather handy to help keep him comfortable while you waited on the others.

You made him feed every hour or so. The second you started to feel that you wouldn't pass out if he drank, you let him.

His fever developed into something quite unpleasant as the hours passed, his shivering now constant, his coughing coming every minute or so as his body tried to fight off the invasion.

It should have killed him by now. By all rights, the vampire spawn should have been a full corpse in your arms as night fell. And yet, he was still with you. Fighting and struggling to remain conscious.

Though not without a great many complaints and a good stream of whining.

Still, you did not care. You would listen to him complain and whine the rest of your life, and be grateful for it so long as it meant he was still with you.

"The others will find us," You assured for the thirteenth time in the past ten minutes, the fever making him quite absent-minded.

"But how do you know?" He asked in concern for the eleventh time also in the past ten minutes.

"Because I do. I have faith." He huffed at this.

"faith. . Like Shadowheart has faith in her dark mistress? Or Wyll has faith we will actually free him from his contract?" You gave him a look.

"I don't put my faith in gods, or higher powers, Astarion. I put my faith in my friends. my family." you pulled closer to him as he sighed.

"You always were soft, darling," He lamented. "And I may very well die for it."

He grunted when you smacked his arm.

"The only way you are going to die is if I kill you, now shut up and be comforted." You pressed your body against him tighter, cradling his head protectively.

he smiled absently, chuckling as he allowed himself to press closer to you in return, feeling the comfort.

You were maybe optimistic and youthful in your faith in people, but you were certainly forceful and hard headed as well.

He whimpered as a particularly bad chill ran through him, eyes shutting as he tried to focus on your warmth.

You frowned softly to yourself.

He was burning up.

Well, for him, at least. For someone who was alive, it would have felt more like being a little overheated rather than feverish.

"I've got you," You cooed, running your fingers through his hair damp soothingly.

"Just focus on my voice, okay? We are going to get through this. And when we do, I'll take you to a nice tavern, hm? With a warm room and a soft bed. . And we can just lay there as long as we like, and enjoy ourselves, and drink fine wine. . " You listened as he took in a deep breath, relaxing as he allowed himself to latch on the to comforting fantasy.

"That sounds rather nice, darling," He murmured sleepily, another deep inhale coming and going before he coughed softly to clear his throat.

You kissed his temple lingeringly as you continued to smooth his hair back with your hand, listening for any signs of fighting or, hopefully, the sounds of a rescue.

Neither arrived however as you listened.

You swallowed heavily as you brought your hand up for him again, feeling your arm shake with the effort it took to hold it up to him.

You knew that your body was not making enough blood to replenish the stock he was taking, but you didn't care. you had to make it work.

You shut your eyes as you felt his fangs graze over the wounds he had already created the past few hours, though you looked at him questioningly when he grunted, shaking his head as he softly pushed your hand away.

"Star you need to feed," You said with a frown, looking down at him worriedly, unsure if it wasn't enough anymore to keep him going.

"No," He breathed, shaking his head, eyes remaining shut. "No. . I can feel your hand shaking. You sound weak. . I won't take anymore from you. . I will be okay without it for now, love." He turned to face you, coughing softly.

You stared at him silently, unsure what to do with that.

You felt you stomach twisting with love for him.

Even in a state of certain death, he didn't want to hurt you. . And yet, you needed him to, if it meant ensuring he would be okay. .

"I will be alright," You murmured reassuringly, shifting down tiredly to come face to face with him. "I promise. Don't worry about me right now, okay? I've got it." You brushed your nose over his. "I've got you."

He opened his eyes just a crack to look at you.

You were almost as pale as he was, and the weakness pushing you towards sleep was difficult to miss.

He shook his head softly, clearing his throat once more.

"No . . I will be fine," He replied, pressing his forehead against yours softly.

you sighed, knowing it would do little good to argue with him about it. Neither of you had the energy for it anyhow.

"Alright. . In a few minutes then, okay?"

"An hour," He compromised, though you frowned.

"Fine. . An hour." It would be the shortest damn hour that man ever experienced.

Ten minutes passed, and you nudged him again.

"Its time," You murmured. "You need to feed." You offered him your wrist, eyes shut.

"That was an hour?" He questioned in groggy confusion, shivering softly against you.

"Mhm, whole hour," You replied, with a tired nod.

"Hm. . " He did not offer anything more, finding himself unable to muster the strength to feed again.

He was getting less and less each time, and as the poison spread through him, it was becoming less effective as it grew stronger inside of him.

"Star, you need to feed," You murmured after a long silence, struggling to stay awake yourself.

"Star. . ?" You forced your eyes open when you realized his shivering had stilled.

Your heart stopped, your entire body going cold as you looked up at his unmoving form.

You brought a hand up to put two fingers under his nose to check for breathing.

"Oh, god," You whispered with horror.

"Astarion, love, wake up," You pleaded, sitting up dizzily and trying to force more blood down his throat.

It wasn't enough though, and you knew it.

Your heart was racing, making you feel like you were going to pass out.

There was only one thing you could think to do at this point.

You were out of time waiting. If he was to die anyway, then you were more than willing to risk going with him if it meant he had even a slim chance of getting help before it was too late.

You got up on shaky feet, stumbling with your hand guiding you against the rocks as you made your way for the exit of the alcove, mustering all the energy you had left inside of you to channel it all into your chest, your breathing picking up as your started to feeling it go into your shoulders and down your arms, tingling your hands with such power that it felt like it was going to consume your very essence.

The energy shot from you fingertips high into the sky as the words to cast the spell left you lips in a scream that released every ounce of your fear and desperation. The bolt of yellow energy tore through you, stealing every drop of energy you had left to offer.

It was, in a word, glorious.

People would have been able to see it for miles, the sound cracking like thunder, the force of it shaking the ground beneath your very feet.

A beacon that with any luck would offer a way for the rest of your party to find you.

You never even felt your body hit the ground, laying crumpled in a heap just outside the rocks where your beloved remained barely holding on to the last threads of life in him. .

Your eyes opened blearily, looking around you in a daze.

The first thing you recognized was the feeling of something warm curled against you, and the familiar scent that accompanied it.

You looked over, heart skipping a beat when you found your white haired elf snuggling against your side, passed out, but a normal, healthy temperature and complexation.

You felt your breath hitch as tears welled in your eyes with relief.

"There she is," You heard Wyll's voice from the entrance of the doorway.

You looked over, wiping the water from your eyes as you gave him a smile, letting out a breathy gasp.

"That was quite the scare you two gave us," He said as he moved over, sitting down by your bedside.

"We found you with mere seconds to spare," Another voice added, and Gale appeared to lean in the doorway with a smile.

A scoff followed, and you couldn't help smiling more as Shadowheart appeared.

"Hardly," She corrected. "Ignore Gale's exaggerations, Tav." She gave the wizard a look, who merely returned it with a smile, his arms loosely crossed in a relaxed position over his chest.

"Allow for the dramatic every once in a while, will you? "Either way, you showed quite the surge of power back there," He went on, sounding proud. "I shudder to think what you'd be capable of if you ever agreed to study under my teachings." You smiled a little more, letting out a breathy laugh.

"Perhaps after things settle down a little," You replied fondly.

Shadowheart moved to kneel beside the bed next to where Wyll sat.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, looking concerned.

"Tired," Was the honest response, "But I'll be fine." Though you cared little about your own state.

You looked over to Astarion. Wyll read the questions of worry immediately, and took your hand reassuringly.

"He will be just fine," He promised. "There is no need to worry about him. He is back to his normal self, more or less. He fought three separate nurses to lay in bed with you. Though perhaps now that you are awake, you might convince him to bathe and allow for his own treatment of care."

You bit your lip, looking over at the warlock and nodding, taking in a deep breath as you lovingly squeezed his hand.

"He does smell a bit, doesn't he," You whispered emotionally, letting out a quiet laugh as Shadowheart joined in.

"I suppose even vampires need a bath now and again to remain fresh," She replied playfully.

You laughed again, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Thank you," You said, looking between the three of them, throat tight.

"I don't know what I would do without all of you." You sniffled as they quickly moved in on you, crowding you for a suffocating hug, getting Astarion in the process as well.

"Can't a vampire get some bloody rest with his beloved anymore?" The grouchy creature objected as the action of their affections woke him from his much needed nap.

They retracted their affections quickly, allowing Astarion to see that your eyes were finally open, your body moving. .

"Come, I suspect these two are going to want a moment to themselves," Gale commented with a smile when Astarion's expression changed when he found you to be conscious.

You gave the three a farewell, looking back to Astarion who was already staring at you as though you had been brought back from the dead.

You did not even get the chance to speak before two cool hands cupped your face, and his lips smashed against yours in an emotional, adoring kiss.

You shut your eyes dizzily, winded from the sudden passion.

Your hands came up to mimic the hold he had you in, running your thumb tenderly against his sharp cheekbone, your stomach twisting with relief and joy.

You gasped when he finally allowed you air once more, your hands remaining on one another's face, staring silently into each others eyes for a time.

"I thought I'd lost you," He whispered, sounding choked. "Don't you dare think about doing that to me again," He added with angry vehemence, kissing you again before you could speak.

"You are one to talk," You retorted when you were finally allowed to do so, grabbing his waist and pushing him from on top of you to instead lay facing one another.

"You- God, Astarion, I thought I had lost you!" You felt your throat tighten, pressing your forehead against his as you shut your eyes tightly, a leg slipping to rest between his.

"That is apparently something I'm completely incapable of handling. So you are just- You are going to have to avoid doing anything like that ever again, do you understand?- No, forget that- You are never leaving our camp again!- No, never mind- I'm making Gale make a bubble for you, and you will just live in that bubble, safe for the rest of your life!-" You cut off to the sound of his laughing, the sound making your heart swell.

"Stop laughing at me, I am dead serious!" You said, doing your best to stay forceful despite his laugh being utterly contagious.

it was positively turning your insides to mush.

"Very well, darling," He said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. "But only if you agree to live in this bubble of yours with me." You smiled, bringing your fingertips to run over the side of his face tenderly.

"Deal," You murmured, soothed by his tender touch and calm voice.

He sighed softly, leaning forward to kiss you gently before pulling away again.

"But honestly, darling, if you ever sleep for two days straight after creating what the others described as 'the most powerful burst of energy they have ever seen in their lives' ever again, you will be answering to my wrath. Are we clear?" You grinned as he pulled you closer.

"We're clear," You murmured fondly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"Good," He murmured, putting a hand on the side of your head as he left a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, your eyes shutting with blissful relief.

"Now, what do you say to a bath?" You questioned, putting a hand on his chest. "The others are complaining about your . . intoxicating scent." You grinned as you spoke.

"Hmm. . Five more minutes," He decided, pulling you ever closer and shutting his eyes.

You took in a deep breath, more than content with this decision, happy to lay with him longer than a mere five minutes should he decide he desired longer. . .

A/N Thank you my lovies for reading! If you have interest in being notified when I put out a new fic, shoot me a message and I will tag you as I put them out. :)

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deerlottie · 23 days

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☢️ — knight in shining armor

summary: lucy has a thing for your knight armor. warnings: 18+ MDNI, suit kink, riding, knight!reader, gn!reader, not proofread

the first time lucy saw you she held her breath until she saw black spots.

she had never seen a Knight in real life before, and when you took off your helmet to introduce yourself, she was star struck — all wide eyed and blushing and stuttering her name when you had asked for it.

she thought you suited the armor perfectly.

you can always feel her staring at you when you're in it, and at first, you thought she was still amazed by being friends with a knight, but the more you hung out with her in the wasteland, the more intense her looks became — her hooded eyelids staring at the center of your suit, her breathy voice whenever you'd touch her with your metal fingers to ask if she was okay, and by the 20th time you caught her staring, you connected the dots.

so, you started to wear it more.

you became obsessed with your effect on lucy, reveling in how shy she got around you, even in your red jumpsuit. and when a couple of raiders stole your fusion core, she quite literally scoured half of the wasteland to find it and bring it back to you with the biggest grin on her face.

"are you almost done fixing it?" lucy pops up behind you, making you jump. she apologizes, chuckling softly while admiring how shiny the metal looks as you wipe it down.

"yep," you nod, finishing the last touches before you stand back, looking over at her. "how does she look?" you ask, a faint smirk on your lips as you notice her dusty pink cheeks.

"uh-really good! dandy even." she gives you a thumbs up.

"great." you toss the rag to the side and open the suit, ears perking as you hear lucy's breath hitch as you get inside. "help me close the back?"

lucy's fingers twitch and she gulps hard before she runs her hands along the metal as if it were your arms. she shakes her head as she gets lost in thought, hurrying to shut it and clearing her throat as she steps back.

"alright," you distorted robot voice says, hands on your hips as you face her. "if we get a move on now, we should reach the observatory by sunset." you start heading into the forest, and it takes you a little while to realize lucy isn't following behind. "luce?"

"lie down."

"excuse me?" you tilt your head, almost laughing at how sudden she spoke. she walks up to you, licking her lips before letting out an exasperated sigh and trying to push you to the ground, groaning when you don't budge.

"i'm gonna go insane if i keep this in any longer." she whines, zipping down her blue jumpsuit until she's just in her bra and panties. you gasp and look away, and she takes advantage of your frozen state to push you, successfully making you fall back onto your ass. "i need to ride you."

lucy gets on top of you, settling down on your middle plate and letting out a satisfied moan as she begins grinding down. she holds onto your shoulders, throwing her head back in pleasure as the ridges hit her clit in just the right way.

after getting over your initial shock, you bring a metal hand up to her chest, experimentally squeezing. she whimpers, leaning into your touch as her tongue lolls out. "o-open your mask, i want to see your face."

yes ma'am.

you open it and she shudders as your sweaty face is revealed. leaning into kiss you, she arches her back as you grip her ass to make her grind down on you even more. her orgasm is already approaching, the feeling of finally fucking you being too much for her body to handle.

"i've dreamed of doing this since we first met." she confess, voice airy and light. you groan, lifting your hips up as if you were pounding into her. she stutters out your name as she cums hard, her body shaking as she collapses on your body. "holy moly."

you smile at her silly expression and kiss her forehead, running your hands in her hair. "now i'm gonna have to clean it again."

#.myworks #lucy maclean x reader #lucy maclean thoughts 💭

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Note

Not sure if you’d be into this butttt with the little cabin that Din just received - could we get like a glimpse of domestic life with din, reader, grogu, annndd maybe another kid or a kid on the way? Smut is welcome! But also it doesn’t have to have it

Ok hope you like the idea love you bye 😂

The Cabin

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: F (one mildly steamy line of dialogue but besides that just some domestic fluff)

wc: <1k

din masterlist

The days of sneaking glimpses of The Mandalorian when he’d come to the school you taught at to drop off and pick his son up were long gone by now, but standing on the porch of Din’s cabin that he insisted was now your cabin, you couldn’t help but stare.

Din was in the yard, sparring with Grogu to keep his apprentice’s skills sharp.

There wasn’t even a sliver of skin exposed, and yet he still looked like the sexiest man you’d ever seen. It was in the way he moved, the way he taught, the way he spoke to his child like every child wanted to be spoken to. He was just so…competent. A competent fighter, though he preferred to keep that side of himself far from you. A competent father, his devotion to Grogu running as deeply as his devotion to his Creed, perhaps even deeper. And Maker knows you can’t forget his competency as a lover—his skillful hands, his neediness, his attentiveness, his desire to make you feel good, it all made you feel drunk with adoration and lust.

“That’s enough for the day,” he announced through labored breathing, the child’s use of the force making the fight nearly fair. “You did good, kid.”

“You both did well,” you added from the porch, watching as Grogu leapt across the lawn towards you until you were bending down to pick him up. “Especially you.”

“He’s getting good,” Din said, meeting the two of you on the porch. “He’s a better fighter than most adults.”

“Well, he’s your son, after all,” you replied, looking into the black of Din’s visor. Din tilted his helmet at you, something you’d slowly learned to read as a smile, and reached to pinch your chin with his gloved hand. “Lunch is ready. You must be starving, little guy.” Grogu chirped and cooed in confirmation, his wide eyed look of excitement never failing to bring a smile to your face. Looking to Din, you lifted your hand to scratch his chin from beneath his helmet. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” he replied, low and husky.

“I’m talking about food,” you laughed and turned around to walk into the house with Grogu on your hip. Din let out the slightest of chuckles and followed you inside, the door closing behind him.

“Food sounds nice too, cyar’ika.”

Later on in the evening, you found yourself sitting beside Din on the bench in front of the cabin, the lid of his helmet lifted as he sipped on a drink. Your head rested on his shoulder, his armor off, and watched Grogu chase a frog around the yard.

“How’s the little one treating you today?” Din asked, his voice unmodulated and clearer than normal. You smiled down at your just-now swelling stomach and ran a hand over it.

“Treating me okay,” you answered. “Likes to kick when you talk.”

“Really?” he huffed a chuckle. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“I think it is,” you looked at him with a smile. “They’re just excited to meet their dad.”

“I’m excited to meet them, too,” he replied, soft and sincere, as though he were on the verge of tears. Turning back to face his child as he used the force to freeze the frog he’d been playing with and hover it back into his waiting hands, Din let out another chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, smiling.

“I just never…” He paused, looking back to you before closing the lid of his helmet, his voice becoming modulated again. “Just never thought I’d have all this.”

•

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ladykailitha · 2 months

Text

The Harrington Pattern Part 8

We have finally got to the part that started this whole story. Steve being validated by a professional.

Robin gets a pretty dress. And Eddie gets a little jealous.

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

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!!

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie joined them at the shop just as they were finishing up. Will used the extra ten he had to buy Steve a pretty little dagger that was mostly a letter opener, but Steve fell in love with it.

The dagger was silver with a moon in the hilt, the cross guard had moonstones on either side. It was nestled in a black velvet box that he was told he had to leave the dagger in and not pull it out while at the fair.

Steve promised he wouldn’t and turned around to nearly run right into Eddie.

“Whoa!” Eddie said, putting out his hands to steady Steve. “I didn’t realize I was that close to you.”

Steve blushed. “You get your schedule sorted for tomorrow?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, sweet thing. Will get his staff?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so happy,” Steve said with a smile. He jutted his thumb behind him to where Will was happily chatting with the seller.

Eddie peered around Steve to see where he was pointing and sure enough, Will was talking to the guy about magical users in DND and how they should expand it to include other types.

Will spotted Eddie and said goodbye to the seller. He rushed over to where Steve and he were talking.

He held out the staff for Eddie to look at. “What do you think?”

Eddie and Steve shared a fond smile. “It looks great. Will the Wise has finally got a staff worthy of him.”

Will blushed.

“We should put it in Eddie’s van,” Steve suggested, “so it doesn’t get stolen.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Why my van?”

“Because it won’t fit in my car,” he replied with a blush staining his cheeks and creeping up his ears.

Eddie cackled. “Fair enough, Stevie!” He looked around and spotted Gareth with an arm full of all sorts of wares, from swords and armor, to decorative goblets and boxes that no doubt held jewelry.

“Hey Gare!” he said following an ear piercing whistle.

The younger man lit up and jogged over to the trio.

“Hey, Ed!” Gareth said with a shit eating grin. “You like my haul?”

Eddie shook his head. “Sometimes I think your parents have more money than sense, but I’m not about to begrudge a well plotted haul.”

Gareth grinned. “Oh, they absolutely have more money than sense. I just know how to use that to my advantage.”

Will and Steve laughed with them.

Eddie pulled out his keys. “Since you’re clearly in need to be relieved of your loot or grow three extra arms, you should take Will to stash your stuff for later.”

Will’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s a great idea!”

Steve just shook his head fondly as he watched the two boys walk off chatting about their prizes.

“It’s nice to see Will come out of his shell around new people,” he said to Eddie. “He really needs friends outside of the Party.”

Eddie nodded. “And it helps that I forced them to be read in with Wayne because there was no way I was going to keep a secret that big with the people who are my family.”

They began their stroll through the other stalls, stopping here and there.

Steve spotted a clothing shop and armory and he sided eyed it longingly. There was no way he would the money for anything in that shop. He chewed his bottom lip and was about to move along, when Eddie grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward a black leather cloak.

Steve was admiring the construction when he heard a voice behind him say, “That’s a neat tunic, but you do know that you’re supposed to wear a chain shirt under that specific kind, right?”

Steve turned around to see a buxom red head in a bodice and flowing red dress. Her hair was piled messily on her head, but Steve could tell it was artfully done as the structure seemed too sound to be accidental.

“Can’t afford the see the armorer,” he said with a wink and a half shrug.

She laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”

Eddie smirked.

“I like your tunic,” the red head said, looking Steve up and down. Eddie bristled next to him. “Where did you get it from?”

Steve grinned, placing a comforting hand on Eddie’s elbow. “I made it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No shit. Really?”

“Yes, he did,” Eddie defended. “He’s amazing.”

Steve flushed with pleasure at his praise. “I dabble. I’ve been sewing for about a decade now.”

She walked up to him and admired the stitching on the hem on the tunic. “That’s really impressive.”

“Thanks, I was admiring your work on the construction of the cloak here,” Steve said. “Was it hand sewn?”

“Fuck no!” she said, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t have time to breathe if I did that.” She smiled to have him join in on her joke. But when Steve continued looking at her in awe. “Wait...” she said, as it slowly dawned on her. “You did all of this by hand?”

She brought the hem of his tunic up to her face. Steve blushed and Eddie batted her hand away.

“Oi! Don’t get fresh!”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think a name would be a good start before you go and get grabby,” he growled.

“Oh!” she said slapping her forehead. “Right, sorry! I’m Katie. I run Damsel in this Dress. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Steve and this is Eddie,” Steve said.

Eddie looked only slightly mollified and Steve rubbed his lower back soothingly. Eddie preened, leaning into the touch.

Steve cleared his throat. “But anyways, yeah I stitched it all by hand. My parents didn’t think a boy should ‘play’ with a sewing machine.” He put play in air quotes.

Katie’s eyes went wide and she looked back at the tunic hem in her hand. “But it’s so tight and even...”

Eddie grinned. “Isn’t he amazing?”

She looked over at him. “He do yours too?”

Steve shook his head. “No, not his.” He spotted Robin walking by. “But I see someone else’s outfit I worked on.”

“Robin!” he called out.

His soulmate came to a...well stop wouldn’t be quiet accurate as she kept in motion, flailing around a bit trying to regain her balance from her aborted step.

“Steve!” she called back and hurried over to him.

Katie looked her up and down. “You did her costume too?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at Steve.

Robin grinned. “Hell yeah, he did! He’s awesome!”

Katie looked back and forth between them. “May I look?”

“Oh I know!” Eddie said cheerfully. “Why don’t they try on something of yours so that you can take a look at their costumes without you having to get all handsy.”

Robin raised an eyebrow at Eddie but turned gleefully to Katie. “That sounds like a great compromise.”

Katie cocked her head back and forth. “Could do, I suppose.”

Steve immediately went for the chain shirts, while Robin wandered around some.

“You’d look pretty in one of my corsets,” Katie said waiting for Steve to get out of the tunic to hand it to her.

Robin blushed. “Aren’t they like painful and gross?”

Katie laughed clear and bright. “Not really. For centuries they were the only form of support a women had. Now, there were tight lacing bodices and corsets, but that wouldn’t happen until much later.”

Robin chewed her bottom lip. She really liked the blue dress and the blue and gold corset. “Can I try on those?” She pointed to the ones she liked.

“What’s your bra size?” Katie asked pulling out the right size dress.

“Uh...” Robin said with a blush. “It’s not very...”

Katie nodded. “It’s fine. I think I’ve got the right one for you anyway, but if it’s too tight or too loose let me know and I’ll find a different size.”

Robin nodded and Steve came out of the dressing room to hand her his tunic.

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Looking good, Sir Stephen.”

Steve did a slow turn and both Eddie and Katie gave him appraising glances.

Robin peeked her head out form behind the curtain. “Um...help?”

Katie was immediately by her side. “What’s up?”

Robin walked out with the laces in her hands and corset not tied.

“Oh!” Katie said. “God, the heat must getting to my brain today. Odd’s Botkins!”

She grabbed laces and showed Robin how to lace it properly.

“How does fit?” she asked stepping back to admire her creation on Robin.

Robin grinned. “I never realized how much I slouched until just now.”

“Yeah,” Katie said with a laugh, “I hear that a lot.” She spun Robin around causing the skirt of the dress to billow out like water rippling in the breeze.

“Wow, Robbie,” Steve said in awe. “That’s gorgeous.”

Eddie hummed his agreement. “Looking good, Buckster!”

Robin squeaked and then dashed back into the dressing room. She came back out with the shirt Steve had altered for her.

Katie took the shirt and tunic and laid them both out on the counter where the cash box was.

“It’s literally seamless,” she said in awe. “And you did this by hand?”

Steve nodded. “But I’ve been doing it for years so...” He half shrugged.

“Hey, man,” Eddie huffed, “don’t diminish your awesomeness. This is hell of a job.”

Steve nodded, blush creeping back up on his cheeks again.

“What’s this?” Katie asked, tapping the embroidery on the hems of both pieces. It was a lovely little floral pattern that was off white on Robin’s shirt so that it blended in, but was a striking silver on Steve’s tunic.

Eddie leaned forward. “Oh, I never noticed that before.” He smiled widely at Steve. “It’s cute.”

Steve flushed even deeper, the red now covering his whole face. “It’s a little something I add to all of my designs. It’s a little signature if you will, so you’ll always know I made it.”

“A Harrington pattern?” Robin asked, leaning over to inspect the embroidery, too.

Steve nodded.

“Have you thought about selling your pieces?” Katie asked. “You could be making bank with these.” She lifted up the shirt to emphasize her point.

Steve shrugged. “Sure, but I wouldn’t have any idea where to sell them or who to sell them to.”

“I’ll sell them for you,” she said, “for a cut of the profits, of course. I sell at gaming and comic conventions, Ren fairs, sci-fi and fantasy conventions.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “I don’t make them very quickly. With them being all hand sewn.”

“Which makes it all the more valuable,” Katie insisted. “A hand sewn dress from a major clothing designer would be worth thousands, sweetie.”

Robin mouthed the word ‘thousand’ in shock.

Eddie pounded Steve on the shoulder. “Hell yeah! Just sell a couple of pieces every once in while and you’ll always having spending money.”

Steve thought it over and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Katie and Robin cheered while Eddie and Steve shared a warm smile between them. A smile that sent butterflies through Steve’s chest. Eddie was always there for him.

Always.

Katie pulled out a business card. “Give me a call when you’ve got pieces you want to sell. And don’t leave off that signature either. Your Harrington Pattern as your friend called it.”

Steve took the card frowning. “But won’t that make it harder to sell? Especially the male stuff?”

She shook her head. “The people that buy this sort of thing are the last people that would care about a floral design, particularly since it would make it more authentic.”

He blinked and mouthed ‘oh’. She was right. “Yeah okay.” He lifted the card. “Thanks for this. I guess Robin and I better go change out of these so you can have them back.”

Katie shook her head. “Think of them as an investment in Steve Harrington’s clothing venture.” She lit up and dashed over to the cloaks. She grabbed the leather one that Eddie had been admiring and held it out to him.

“For you too.”

Eddie blinked, he wanted to turn it down and would have, had Steve not taken it and draped it on his shoulders.

The inside had a soft almost fur like material that was a slate grey. It would be too hot to wear in the summer, but in winter he would be outright toasty in it.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was thanking her or Steve, but it didn’t really matter. He was grateful to both. He looked up at Robin.

“You’ll probably want to change out of yours, Robbie,” he said, carefully removing the cloak and draping it over his arm.

“Why’s that?” she asked with a pout.

A grin took over Eddie’s face. The mischievous one that always sent a lance of heat in Steve’s gut every time he saw it. “Because you’ll want to look rocking for the joust tomorrow.”

Katie grinned too. “That is an excellent idea, good sir!”

Robin seemed to agree because she grabbed her shirt and dashed back into the dressing room.

Steve was surprised she remembered the shirt, if he was honest.

Katie and Eddie helped him get the tunic over the chain shirt without snagging the cloth on the metal.

Robin came out mere seconds later with her prizes clutched to her chest.

“Thank you!” she squealed. “I can’t wait to wear it tomorrow!”

They all went to the parking lot to put away Eddie and Robin’s prizes. The cloak in the van, and the dress and corset in the trunk of Steve’s car.

Steve was grinning from ear to ear and couldn’t stop.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Damsel in This Dress is an actual Ren Faire staple from where I'm from.

Yup, still on my Gareth lives in Loch Nora agenda.

And while I don't ship Will/Gareth Will needs friends who aren't trauma bonded, you know?

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1@zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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sweetlywriting · 2 months

Text

Allegiance

Part 1 Part 2

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Sypnosis- To save your weakening house you propose a marriage to Feyd Rautha through the creation of a flower that blooms in color, even on the black and white planet of Geidi Prime. Though the stakes are high-if the flower does not bloom, you must face Feyd in the arena instead of the altar.

Warnings- Manipulation and toxic behaviors, blood and violence, enemies to fiancés to deep mutual understanding(?)

A/N- Read part 1 first! It will make a lot more sense!(it’s good I promise) + lmk if you want to be added to the tag list <3

You scanned the topography of Geidi Prime desperately from above your spacecraft, surrounded by your attendants as they aided in your search. You all carefully watched for a glimpse of a yellow flower in the barren black and white land.

“Bring me my armor, quickly.” You ordered the attendants. The ship was getting too close to land and you had seen no evidence of the blooms. The fortnight had come. Your flowers had failed and thus your proposal. Now you had to face the consequences with your life, fighting in the arena.

“Surely we can wait a bit longer-“ One of your closer attendants said in a worried voice.

“We cannot, you must leave me here and quickly go back home. Do not come back. If I die do not retrieve my body.” You said, trying not let a tremble in your voice. Feyd was a gamble, and you were a fool to take it. Your attendants silently lamented as they quickly undressed you from the beautiful ceremonial dress into heavy armor.

You embraced the attendants you had known since childhood and got off the ship, watching as it quickly receded back towards your home planet. You were greeted by Harkonnen servants as they led you to what only you could assumed would be the arena. Though as you walked through the twisting hallways of the palace you ended up in a private garden-your breath caught in your throat seeing a large bloom of yellow flowers. You had succeeded. Relief flowed through you as you tried not buckle to the floor. Alongside the flowers was Feyd, walking up to you and gesturing for the servants to leave.

He pulled one of the flowers, striding your way and you hesitantly stood your ground as he came closer, able to feel the heat of his breath fanning your neck but never letting your eyes off the sheath at his side as he placed the yellow flower in your hair and drew away.

“I like your attire.” He said in a mocking way. You knew it was unusual to wear armor to an engagement, though only until some seconds ago you were convinced on having to fight a battle to the death.

“But I can’t say I didn’t expect it. I think it rather suits you.” He said, running his eyes over the armor well fitted to your figure. You pursed your lips. He knew you wouldn’t see the Solaris flower if he kept it in a garden. He knew you would see the absence and prepare for battle. He wanted you to feel that fear. ‘What an awful trick’ you thought trying to swallow the infuriation.

“Didn’t bring any attendants either hm?” He said laughing lightly but you could see the adding irony in his little trick. By making you think you had lost the gamble you had to send your people back for their safety-but now you had lost a share of your own safety, completely isolated and surrounded by Harkonnens in their own territory. He had turned out to be much more manulaptive than you thought.

“So . . . you’ll marry me?” You asked wanting to get this done as swiftly as possible.

“Yes, I’ll keep my word. Though my family isn’t quite as . . . accepting. You’ll have to prove your worth to them yourself, I can only offer you some protection. And of course I don’t have to that.” He said, dragging out the last sentence in his sly voice.

“Let’s see if you can survive a week.”

***

For a month you had navigated the difficult environment of the Harkonnens house estate, writing encrypted letters to your family, learning Giedi Prime’s complex local languages, and trying not to get assassinated by your future in laws.

Even now, with the privilege of a seat at their dining table, you didn’t dare take more than sip of your drink or eat anything served cold. Heat killed poison, so you opted for things that burned your tongue, relishing in the taste of living another day. They didn’t speak much, but you knew if you survived today the honorary courtship of one month would be over, and you could finally marry Feyd and send your people the aid they truly deserved. You kept this in the forefront of your mind as you learned to deflect the Harkonnens veiled threats and insults. Feyd did little to ease this-sometimes adding on or jesting along with them.

But as you started to walk back to your designated chamber on the thirty first day after dinner you felt relief flood through you. It was over. You could sleep peacefully tonight, marry Feyd, and quickly return to your home planet-

You turned as a sharp pain grazed your shoulder, sparsely dodging a dagger aimed to your chest. Immediately starting to run from the hand that had dealt it. Glossu Rabban Harkonnen. Feyd’s cousin and previous commander to Arrakis. He had sneered at you and paid you the respect of an attendant, but had shown no sign of wanting to kill you nor anything to benefit from it.

The pain was intensifying as you continued to sprint, you couldn’t run forever. But where to go? The guards were all Harkonnens, all your people had left, and you had no allies on this hollow planet.

But perhaps one. He didn’t seem to care for you, much less your life, but this was the only chance left. You prayed he was in his room.

“Feyd” you rasped knocking fervently at his door willing it to just open, to just-

“This isn’t what I told you to do.” You heard a voice hiss, from . . . behind you?

You turned to see Feyd and his cousin arguing in hall behind you as you slumped to the foot of the door clutching your shoulder.

“You asked me to test her-“ Rabban said indignantly.

“Not like this-“ Feyd hissed.

“It’s fine, it was just a little scratch and she came to your room anyway-“

Rabban stopped mid speech as the Feyd quickly pulled out his own blade, the sound of metal clashing reverberated in your head for what felt like hours until Rabban began to retreat. You paid no mind, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to come to Feyd’s room when he gotten you into this very situation. ‘Of course it was just another ‘test’, simply another mind game for him’ you thought.

You frowned as he approached, but he hauled you by your uninjured arm and pushed you into his room. You stumbled on to a chair and watched as he dug around cabinets and chests setting salve, alcohol, and dressing bandages on a table.

He didn’t offer any apologies or condolences for what he did, but rather took his own blade to the same point you had been slit, ran his dagger through his own shoulder quickly.

He didn’t speak or seem to mind the fact his own blood was staining the white floor red as he dressed your wound. Blood ran down his arm and traced itself over the curvature of his veins.

Seeing the way he ignored his wound as though it was simply not there, the way his eyes focused on your cut with sound precision, the way he ripped the long bandage with his teeth-you begin to understand why house Harkonnen repayed blood with blood. You had the odd urge to kiss him.

“We are allies.” He said this with little emotion or regard, as though stating a fact. Your loyalty had been proven, and now so had his.

For the first time since you had gotten on this morbid planet you laughed.

“I suppose we’ll having matching scars to wear for our wedding.”

Tag list: @szapizzapanda, @moonsoulk, @unicoreads, @avidreader73, @flower-frog

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #dune x reader #dune part two #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #how we feeling #next part y’all are getting married!! + honeymoon to sand land + increasing political intrigue!

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flowersandbigteeth · 8 months

Note

I Have an idea for a character one shot (I'd just irk to fuck a centipede monster but same thing)

You get lost in the desert come across a cave, take a nap in the cave but when you wake up you’re trapped by a large centipede man who’s staring down at you like you’re a snack.

Preferably nsfw and Fem reader, also I’m sorry if you’re not taking requests I’m new to your blog

I really like this idea ^_^, It actually inspired a longer story I'm working on about a sarantopodarousacentaur. But for now, we have this.

sarantopodarousacentaur/half-centipede half-human (Mitas) x F reader

Word Count: 3K

Warning: nsfw, dubcon half-centipede smut, kidnapping, descriptions of violence, desert vibes

“Have you seen a witch run this way, miss?” a lanky member of the city guard asked.

You squinted in the desert sun as it reflected off his shiny gold armor.

“A witch?” you asked, leaning on your bow. “Nope, can’t say I have.”

He gave you a nod, glancing at your horse, Bina, who had her head in a bucket of water you’d drawn from the oasis.

“Pretty horse,” he said, tipping his hat. “Better stay safe tonight. There’s a witch on the loose. Murdered one of the merchants in town with black magic. Could be dangerous.”

“Sure thing,” you said, giving him a little salute as he walked away.

“She’s not here!” you heard him yell at his captain over your shoulder. “Just a huntress watering her horse.”

“She’s the bloody witch, you mouth-breathing dolt!” his captain shouted. “After her!”

Time to go!

You hurried to empty the bucket and climbed on Bina’s back, kicking her lightly to make your escape. Pulling your goggles over your eyes, you turned into the wind, heading towards the mountains where you might be able to hide. You weren’t any witch, as the guard thought. You’d killed the merchant with poison before you’d stolen all his gold. It only appeared to be magic to the idiotic guard, who apparently had no idea what poisoning looked like. He’d bled out of every orifice, but his death was faster than he deserved.

You could hear the hoofbeats of their horses on your tail. The guards were wearing heavy armor, however, and carrying swords. You were much faster. You twisted in your saddle and shot off a few arrows to ward them off.

“We’re under heavy fire!” one of the guards shouted, and you snorted.

A few odd arrows were hardly heavy fire. You could have killed them if you’d wanted, but you aimed at their obnoxiously shiny chests, and your arrows only dented the metal.

You often stole, but you didn’t often kill. The merchant had it coming, though. When he took you back to his home, thinking he’d seduced you, you’d found a house full of half-starved slaves. Slavery was illegal in Dechete, but he’d bragged to you about how he’d paid off the city magistrate to claim he’d adopted all the teens. So, annoyed that he was both a lech and a slaver, you hadn’t felt the least bad about dropping a few drops of Bloodweed essence in his drink. You let the teenagers take what they liked of his possessions and horses, pointing them towards the coast before you broke into his safe and pocketed the gold coins he kept there.

No one would have noticed for a few days if one of the newer slaves wasn’t a snitch and called the guard, hoping to gain a favor from the magistrate. He got an arrow to the chest for his opportunism. Probably didn’t kill him, but the punctured lung would keep his mouth shut while the others got away.

Which is why you were galloping through the desert, hoping to lose the city guard in the rising sandstorm. It was better they chase you than newly freed youths.

“Sorry, Bina,” you muttered, pushing her faster into the fading light. “I owe you as many apples as you can eat when we make it across the mountain.”

Beyond the mountains were the green lands of the Thundering Redwoods and safety. With all the gold you’d stolen, you could buy some animals and a little house in the woods. You’d never have to see this dismal desert again.

“Fall back! The storm’ll take ‘er!” you heard the guard shout as the wind whipped around you, shooting particles against your face like liquid sandpaper. If you could have breathed a sigh of relief, you would have. Instead, you focused on keeping Bina running straight so you didn’t end up lost.

“You’re a good girl, Bina,” you murmured, though you doubted she could hear you over the whistling wind.

The rocks of the mountains came on you so quickly, you would have driven her straight into a stone wall if she didn’t have better sense. She made a sharp 90-degree turn at the last moment and carried you into a canyon. The wind didn’t reach here, and you pulled off your goggles, looking around at the high cliffs stretching up above you.

“You’re worth your weight in gold,” you cheered, rubbing Bina’s neck.

She gave you a pleased whinny, happy to be safe from the irritating sand. Hopping off her back, you wandered through the winding canyon, hoping it would take you straight through to the other side of the range. Night fell, and you still hadn’t come upon the opposite end, so, lighting a torch, you looked for a cave where you might get some rest before starting off again in the morning.

“This look all right?” you asked Bina, holding your torch into a hole in the canyon wall only a bit larger than her.

She nuzzled your hair, and you supposed that was her approval. Inside the opening, the cave opened to a large hall with a high ceiling you couldn’t see with your weak light. The sound of trickling water echoed off the cold stone walls, and after making your way quietly through the passage, you found a spring pumping, clear icy water into a small stream that went deeper into the cave.

“I think you chose correct,” you said, smiling at your horse while you pulled your saddle and her bridle off so she could have a nice drink and a rest.

You washed the layer of dirt off your face before you plopped down on the floor to get comfortable. Pulling an apple, you’d nicked from your bag, you gave it to Bina as she’d done most of the work. You could find something to eat in the morning.

“Sleep tight, Bina,” you muttered, exhausted.

Curling into a ball on the hard floor, you quickly fell asleep.

You woke looking at the floor…but it was the ceiling…No. You were upside down. You blinked, peering in the low light at a shadowy creature silhouetted by the sun creeping in through the mouth of the cave. Your eyes frantically searched for Bina, but you found her safe and sound, resting in a bed of hay and eating a salad of apples, carrots, and melon from a crudely shaped clay bowl. Where did that-?

“Hello, little human,” the creature hissed.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, they popped open, realizing what was holding you aloft by your ankle.

“Sarantopodarousacentaur!” you gasped at the half-man, half-centipede smiling at you.

His body was long, and the segmented carapace looked like polished mahogany. Shiny gold legs tapped the stone floor as if he were excited. He righted you, lifting you so you were eye to eye. His face was rather handsome despite his mouth appearing far wider than a normal human. Messy black hair fell around his jaw, and his skin was as gold as the desert sand. Two odd, blood-red teeth poked past his lips, and you puzzled at what they could be until he stretched his maw in an eerie smile, and you found they were the tips of two mandibles that rested in his cheeks. He flexed them at you as if he were hungry.

“Um…hello…” you said, unsure what to say to a legendary monster.

Sarantopodarousacentaurs were a myth, a story the desert folk told to keep their children from wandering at night. Yet, here was in front of you, grinning like a demon. He set you on the ground and patted your head.

“You are a juicy little morsel,” he beamed, folding his muscled body to your height. “The perfect size to be my mate!”

You swallowed hard and waved your hands at him, stepping back.

“Oh no, I’m no…er…mate,” you said. “I’m just passing through. Bina and I will be on our way. Didn’t mean to disturb you!”

You inched towards the bow you’d left on the ground while sleeping. His body curled around you in one smooth movement, pinching legs trapping you in a golden cage. A finger tipped your chin up to meet his red eyes.

“You will be my mate,” he said. “But don’t be frightened.”

He waved a hand at Bina, who happily munched on her bowl of treats, not the least afraid of the monster.

“I will take good care of you and your Bina,” he said.

His black-clawed fingers tore at the filthy, sandy clothes you wore, slicing them to ribbons as he unwrapped you like a treat. Lifting one of your legs, he examined it closely.

“You look delicious,” he murmured as his eyes took stock of your body.

You wracked your brain, trying to remember if centipedes killed their mates, but you couldn’t think clearly under his careful inspection.

“Don’t you think we should get to know one another…before you…do…whatever…?” you asked.

Please don’t eat me.

He smiled again, his face so close to yours that his mandibles brushed your cheek.

“I go by Mitas,” he said while he sniffed your hair.

“I’m…ah…(Y/N),” you said, shivering.

The cave was cold now that you were naked, and Mitas frowned.

“You will be warm in my nest,” he assured you, tapping legs carrying him at a dizzying speed deeper into the cave.

You gasped at what must have been the creature’s bedroom. On one side of the room, jewel-toned blankets, furs, and pillows formed a large, wide bowl where he slept. Your mouth went dry as you took in the neatly piled bones and skulls of his victims. Some were split to make bowls for food, drinks, and pigments, while some were carved with intricate designs and hung on the walls like art.

He plopped you in his nest and coiled around you like a snake, his stiff legs holding you in place. His odd mandibles bloomed, pinching your cheek gently.

He’s definitely going to eat me, you thought. His heavy hands moved all over your body, tracing your curves as if he were getting to know them.

“Normally I devour little mouthfulls like you,” he hummed, tucking his nose behind your ear and sniffing you. “But you’re too pretty to be a meal.”

He sighed.

“I’m lonely,” he pouted. “I want a proper mate.”

“Yes but…” you started to say.

“No buts,” he hissed. “The goddess led you to me. You walked right into my den. She must have meant for you to be mine.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you argued.

“You’re either a meal or my mate,” he reasoned. “Which would you rather? It’d be a pity to eat you, but I’m sure you’re scrumptious!”

Posed with those options, you chose the one that did not result in your immediate demise.

“M-m-mate,” you squeaked.

If only you had your bow nearby! The sarantopodarousacentaur was strong, but not invincible. A shot to the heart would kill anyone.

“We ought to kiss,” he decided.

“You think?” you asked.

He nodded and smiled his eerily wide smile.

“That’s what mated pairs do, no?” he replied.

At that you squeezed your eyes shut, prepared for the worst. What you felt, however, was rather nice. His lips were soft and warm as they brushed yours. With your eyes closed, you took more notice of the scent of his nest. He didn’t smell bad, more like sandalwood and moss. Without thinking you leaned in to him, your hands finding their way to his chest.

The muscles were firm and sculpted. Curious, your fingers drifted down to his abs as he tentatively brushed his tongue against your bottom lip. Your lips parted on their own and you were presented with his flavor. Surprisingly he tasted like mint and honey.

You sighed your appreciation as his fingers gently moved along your waist, exploring your curves. Your body betrayed any lingering sense of caution sparkling under his touch. It’d been a long time since you’d been with a man. As a desert scavenger, you were more likely to rob one than take him to bed.

You heard a lusty moan build in your throat and he pulled you closer, the sharp points of his legs scraping your skin in a not unpleasant way. His lips set off on an exploration of your body, drifting to your cheeks, then neck, until he was curiously nibbling at your breasts.

There was no holding in your gasps when he pulled a nipple past his lips and ran his tongue over it. The pointy mandibles tucked in his cheeks nipped at the tender skin making you shudder in pleasure, not pain.

He hummed, pleased that you were obviously enjoying his investigation. Thick fingers slid down your stomach to dip themselves into your wetness.

“What’s this?” he murmured as his roving fingers found your sensitive spot.

Inquisitive sanguine eyes met yours.

“It’s called a clit,” you explained in halting breaths.

He chuckled lightly as he felt your body stiffen while he circled it.

“You like that,” he observed and you gave him a tight nod punctuated by a loud moan.

He made an odd chattering noise that sounded rather victorious before returning to your breasts, to lick your nipples, one after the other. He had your head all fucked up. Pleasure rolled over you like a unstoppable wave, clouding any thoughts of escape with ones of surrender.

Feeling you relax into his arms, he pushed you down into the soft pile of blankets and pillows beneath you. Opening your eyes you found him looming over you, considering his strategy.

As you watched a portion of the yolk of carapace that wrapped around his hips parted and what must have been his cock emerged. It wasn’t like a man’s at all, instead the tip was slightly curved and the shaft lined with knobs arranged in a spiral. You whimpered at it’s size, unsure if it would even fit inside you.

“Oh,” you mewled and he smiled down at you, his mandibles stretching wide, obviously proud of what he had to offer.

“I like your little, squishy legs,” he purred opening them with ease and brushing his member against the soft skin of your thighs.

Precum mixed with your own fluids that had slid down your leg. Curious, he dipped his head and you felt his long tongue explore your channel, making you squeal. No one had ever been quite so close before. At first, you were frightened, but as he worked his tongue inside you, you couldn’t deny the pleasure he sent shooting up your spine. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your lashes fluttered. Panting your hands found his shaggy hair on their own and held him in place.

You heard a rumbling grow echo through the chamber, coming from his chest. He stopped for a moment to glance up at you.

“No, don’t stop,” you demanded despite yourself and he grinned at you, lowering his head again.

His efforts moved to your clit, his tongue twirling around it like some tentacle. His teasing pushed you up and up like a drifting balloon until you popped, screeching as you came. Pleased with himself, he loomed over you, licking his lips with the agile appendage.

“Now you’re mine,” he declared, his hips snapping forward and his cock plunging in to your soaking core.

Your body was his to take as his cock stretched you. His shaft was stiff and smooth, the covering feeling more like smooth bone than velvety flesh.

"Ahhhh!" you groaned as he drove into you.

His claws fingers held you in place, gripping your neck and all you could do was gaze up at him. His eyes had shifted from a deep garnet to cherry red.

"Minnnnne," he muttered in a labored hiss.

His hips slammed into yours mercilessly, rutting you like a beast. You started to lose yourself in bliss, his member stroking the places inside of you that felt the best.

Your eyelashes fluttered closed and the only thing that passed your lips was incoherent babble.

"Touch yourself, mate," he ordered, eyes eating up your vulnerable body and you obeyed.

Your narrow fingers desperately circled your clit, chasing your end and plucked at a nipple. His gaze on you was lecherous, enjoying your neediness. After a few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore, brushing your hand away and folding his large body in half so that he could nibble the pert nipples you'd tugged to a point.

His other hand found your clit and as he drove into you he pinched and stroked your little bundle of nerves until you were sobbing. Pleasure detonated in your core like a bomb and your back arched in the soft linens as you screamed his name.

You heard him chuckle, devolving into animal grunts as he took his pleasure. His glowing eyes narrowed and you could see the rapture growing in them. They were solely focused on you when he emptied himself inside.

You both laid there panting, his body curved over you like a cave, but not pressing his weight on you.

"Little mate," he purred, fingers stroking your cheek. "You are so lovely."

Like a gentleman, not a monster, he twisted around offering you a sip of water from a bone bowl. You were too thirsty and spent to complain, so you drank eagerly.

He hummed at you in satisfaction. It seemed providing for you pleased him. Your head was dotted in his happy kisses.

"When we are done resting we'll go pick fruit," he said, snuggling up next you and trapping you in a cage of his legs. "I won't let my scrap go hungry."

"Where?" you murmured. "We're in the middle of the desert."

His chuckle rolled over you like a heavy grumble of thunder, sending a shock of pleasure up your spine.

"There's an oasis where I cultivate plants," he explained, yawning. "Only I know about it. Very secret, but I'll share it with my mate. Sleep now, little one."

Escape briefly crossed your mind, but to be honest, you'd never been so satisfied carnally before and you were rethinking that plan. Your body was glowing and your hormones were slowly binding you to the myth made flesh dozing beside you. Maybe escape could wait until after a nap and some fruit salad. So you pressed your head into his chest and maneuvered his thick arm over you like a blanket, which earned you a satisfied hum from Mitas, and drifted into sleep.

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aemondsquill · 1 year

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Keep Going

Aemond Targaryen × Pregnant!Reader

Synopsis: The Blacks invade King's Landing. Aemond and his wife make a daring escape.

Reader is Daemon's daughter. No physical description except for Targaryen features (violet eyes and white hair)

A/N: thank you guys so much for all your support and love for my last fic!! It's so encouraging to know that y'all enjoyed it and I have about 5 other wips waiting in my drafts that I'm super excited to write!

Anyways, back at it again with the ANGST💅

Warnings: Heavy angst, stabbing, attempted murder, mentions of war, blood, gore, pregnancy loss, death

"Come, little dove, we must hurry!" Aemond whispered into the darkness. Y/N waddled around their darkened chambers, her pregnant belly making mobility slightly difficult. Even during this dire time, Aemond took a moment to admire his bride. The pregnancy gave her the most beautiful glow. Excitement glimmered in his chest at the thought of meeting the babe within her. He was hoping for a little girl with her mother's gentle eyes to dote upon. The only source of light were the fires currently burning through King's Landing. The flames cast a romantic yellow hue over her delicate features and made her silvery hair glow.

The Blacks decided to invade whilst the Red Keep slept. They brought their dragons: Caraxes, Tyraxes, Syrax, and Moondancer. All of which were currently wreaking havoc, circling the sky over the dragon pits waiting for their prey. Hundreds of Black bannermen and foot soldiers stormed the city, pillaging and slaughtering anyone they deemed loyal to the Greens.

Just a week prior, Y/N received a raven from her stepmother, Rhaenyra, urging her to leave the city as soon as possible. The letter promised safe passage to Pentos to wait out the destruction until the babe is born. Rhaenyra always held a certain affection for the girl. She willingly and eagerly took the young one under her wing after marrying Daemon.

Y/N notified Aemond of the letter immediately. He spent days planning their escape; which tunnels they would use, where they would dock the rowboat at the end of the tunnel, and which of the little islands would Vhagar wait for them.

Three days prior to tonight, Aemond stashed their luggage on the island they decided on and Vhagar would fly there early the next morn, ideally undetected.

Shouting could be heard through the large oaken door. The Blacks had infiltrated the Keep.

Anxiety clawed it's way into Aemond's chest. For the first time since he was a mere child he felt powerless.

He clutched Y/N's hand tightly, gently kissing her shivering fingers before pulling her towards the passage hidden within their chambers.

----

Light was sparse in the bowels of the foreboding Keep, but the violet-eyed pair pressed on.

The clinking of metal armor stopped them in their tracks, nerves on high alert. Y/N felt her heart drop into her stomach and her knees felt wobbly as Aemond tucked her into a small alcove, shielding her body with his. Together, they held their breath and waited for the soldier to pass. Whether he was Green or Black did not matter, the couple did not want to risk finding out.

A brief moment of silence hung heavily in the air before Aemond spoke.

"My love, if we run into trouble promise me you will run. I will hold whoever it is off..."

"Aemond, do not speak like this." Y/N's voice wobbled. "You are frightening me."

"I apologize, my love. I just want you to know I will do whatever I can to protect you. Both of you." Her heart quivered at his confession.

"It will not come to that." She spoke sternly, "I have the dagger you gifted me on my last name day and I intend to use it, husband." Aemond chuckled at his fierce little wife.

"I know you will. Come, let us continue. We are almost to Balerion's skull."

Aemond held Y/N's hand tightly in his, leading her deeper and deeper through the winding halls.

Aemond swallowed thickly as he thought of his mother, sister, and brother. He prayed for their safety before they made their escape. Surely, at least Heleana would be spared because of her innocence in this mess and his mother because of her past closeness with Rhaenyra. He knew Aegon would meet the Stanger quickly once the Blacks seized him. His drunken brother was still that, his brother and the thought made his violet eye burn with unshed tears.

Aemond's choice to choose his wife and child over his family did not come lightly to him. This is a thought that he had agonized over ever since Y/N received the raven.

Massive stonework created ominous shadows and ancient wood creaked. The Keep itself seemed to be alive that night.

----

Alas! Y/N spotted the mouth of the tunnel in the distance. Excitement made her fingers tingle as she sped up her steps.

Closer and closer they came to the end, the blackened sea coming into view along with the trusty little rowboat. Y/N could smell the briny spray from her location in the tunnel.

Freedom was within their grasp! Seeing the rowboat 'neath the moonlight spurred them on. Just a few more-

"Escaping into the night with your treasonous husband, daughter?"

Y/N felt her blood freeze.

Daemon stepped out from the shadows, along with him his bloodthirsty hounds he calls the Queensguard, surrounding the couple.

"Father, please. Let us pass. We have no fight with you." Daemon chuckled, but the humor did not reach his cold eyes. Aemond gripped his sword beneath his cloak, praying Y/N would heed his words for once. 'Run! You must run now, you insolent little girl!' He thought.

"Rhaenyra promised us safe passage. Please."

"Who's idea do you think that was, my dear?"

Y/N could nearly feel her soul shudder at the betrayal. This was intended. It was a test to see if Y/N would abuse the Queen's mercy by smuggling her husband out as well. And she fell for it so easily. Such pretty words on parchment had swayed her tender heart, filling her with hope. Hope that was so easily stifled with a penetrating stare from her father.

Aemond unsheathed his sword, immediately swinging at an unsuspecting guard, killing him.

"No! Wait!" Y/N begged her husband. Drawing blood would allow them no mercy from Daemon.

'Use this distraction run!' Aemond thought, frustrated.

She unsheathed her own dagger and moved so her back was against her husband's, giving the two full view of the guards circled around them.

"You've opened your legs for my cunt of a nephew and now his spawn resides within you. You will get no mercy from me daughter."

"Father, you pushed for this marriage! Do not forget you wanted to forge an alliance with them!" Y/N shouted, "you are solely responsible for this."

"A decision I regret deeply, Y/N. It is clear whose side you chose and you are no daughter of mine. Sieze them."

The clash of swords rang out behind her and she heard Aemond's grunts of exertion. She swiped at the neck of the guard in front of her and hot sticky blood sprayed on her face.

Aemond's scream in pain stilled her heart. She turned and saw him kneeling, the back of his calf split open, tendons and muscle severed. Still, he swung his sword in vain.

The brief distraction allowed two guards to roughly seize her arms, their bruising grip forcing a yelp from her lips.

Three men wrangled Aemond's arms behind them, he still snarled and squirmed in their grip.

Aemond's eye met Y/N's tortured gaze. A stone sunk in her stomach when she fully realized the gravity of their position.

"You will pay for betraying your Queen, but who will I take first? My traitor daughter and the Green bastard inside her or my nephew, the Kinslayer?" Daemon's tone had a sickening teasing lilt to it, as if he was entertaining a child.

"Well the decision is easy." Daemon stalked over to his prey, dagger drawn and glinting eerily in the moonlight.

"Father, wait, please, don't do this, WAIT! NO WA-" the air was forced from Y/N's lungs as the blade plunged into her gut. And again. And again. And again.

Aemond let out an anguished cry that shook the granite walls behind them. Tears of rage and grief poured out of his eyes, a haunting sight as the sapphire glimmered within his socket.

Y/N could not take a breath as she felt the white hot pain erupt over her swollen abdomen.

The guards released her and she fell limply to the ground.

Then Daemon turned to Aemond, who was choking on his tears and sobs.

"Kill him. When you are done, meet me in the Keep."

A Queensguard brandished a blade in front of Aemond and proceeded to bury to it multiple times in his guts.

Aemond was dropped to the ground as he gasped for breath, the Queensguard retreating into the tunnel.

Aemond crawled to his wife, each drag of his body agony as the rough shoreline tormented his wounds.

He grasped her hand. Shock jolted him as he realized she was alive, but only just.

Together, they propped themselves against the large boulder behind them. Aemond wrapped his arm around his little wife. A sweet and gently embrace that would ease their passage to the Stanger.

"It hurts, Aemond" Y/N whimpered.

"I know, my love." It was all Aemond could say. He failed her. He failed his duty as a husband and a father.

Together they shivered as the life continued to drip from them slowly.

Aemond thought back to their wedding, a day he longed to return to at this hour. If he closed his eye tightly and prayed hard enough, perhaps he would find himself standing in front of her, her eyes shining with love and a small cut adorning her luscious lower lip. Intermingling of their blood gave birth to their marriage. It was fitting that it would see the end of it, too.

"We were so close. We were nearly free." Aemond whispered. Y/N's gasping breaths, while not terribly loud, echoed in his ears. He knew she was not long for this earthly realm.

He held her tightly until he felt her head gently lay on his shoulder. He let out a shuddering breath and he knew.

His throat burned as he spoke, "come, my love, this is no place to die."

With a final surge of energy he stood, shakily. The gash across his calf rendered his left leg useless. Still, he stumbled and groaned through each step. He brought her to the rowboat and gently set her down in it, bundling up his cloak so her head could lay comfortably, his beautiful wife. He gently stroked her now-cold cheeks, chilled by the Stranger's kiss.

---

Each stroke of the oar set fire to Aemond's stomach, the grave wounds stretching uncomfortably as he rowed.

"VHAGAR" he shouted into the void. He called for her, again and again. He begged for his dragon until his throat was scratchy and raw.

The sound of powerful wings flapping could be heard in the distance.

The great she-dragon hovered over the boat as Aemond nestled himself next to his bride. The surge had dampened immensely. His tired eye gazed up at his beast.

"Vha...Vhagar" his spirit was dwindling as his eye fluttered heavily.

"Dracarys." It was all he could muster before slipping into the darkness to join his wife again, his little dove.

A pillar of flame reduced the boat to nothing, the ashes swirling togerther in their black watery grave.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd aemond #house of the dragon

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arielluva · 7 months

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so back in april i had the idea to draw ace attorney characters as if they were in fantasy life (so essentially combining two of my favorite games) but only finished phoenix then. tonight i finished up the page with some more, and since we know what the new lives in fantasy life i will be, i got the excuse to include vera as an artist :))

id under cut

[image ID: 5 digital drawings of some ace attorney characters drawn in the fantasy life art style, which is a very expressive, stylized chibi style. they are drawn in the outfits for different lives as if they were in fantasy life. in the top left, phoenix wright is drawn as a paladin, with text next to his head that says "Phoenix Paladin". he is wearing silver armor with gold trim, the trim forming a 'P' on his chest. the 'P' has a red gemstone in the center of it. his shoulder guards also have red gems on them. he has a long blue cape fluttering behind him, as he stands confidently, holding a sword in his left hand and holding up a shield with his right. the sword and shield are also silver with gold and red accents like his armor. next to phoenix, in the top middle, apollo justice is drawn as a blacksmith. he has text next to his head that reads "Apollo Blacksmith". he is wearing a teal apron on top of a white shirt and pants. his sleeves are rolled up, and he has a red piece of fabric tied around his waist. he is wiping sweat off his forehead with his right hand, and holding a hammer in his left. next to apollo on the top right, is vera misham. she is drawn as an artist, with text next to her head that reads "Vera Artist" she is wearing a pink beret that resembles her bandana, and has a paint brush with pink paint on the very top. she is holding her sketchbook in her right hand, and a paint brush in her left. she is wearing brown gloves that are stained with various colors of paint. she is wearing a pink dress with a darker pink collar and bow, and the skirt of the dress has a darker pink line going horizontally across it. she has a white apron tied around her waist that is also stained with various colors of paint. she is wearing brown sandals. on the bottom left of the drawing is trucy wright drawn as a wizard, with text next to her head that reads "Trucy Wizard". she is in an excited pose, running while holding her staff, a tall wand with a glittering green gem on top. she is wearing a light blue pointy witch hat with a white ribbon wrapped around it. the inside of her hat is pink. she is wearing a medium length black dress with a white belt, and she is wearing pointy white shoes. she is wearing a light blue cloak, with the hood on her shoulders, that has her green diamond brooch hanging where the ends of her hood meet. her cloak is fluttering behind her and trimmed with white and gold, the insides if her sleeves being pink. on the bottom right of the image, ema skye is drawn as an alchemist, with text next to her head that reads "Ema Alchemist". she is wearing gold goggles with pink lenses, and her hair is drawn more poofy than usual. she is wearing a white coat over a light green dress. she has a pink tie loosely around her neck, and she is wearing a darker green corset with gold buttons. her shoes are plain black. she is holding a potion bottle filled with a yellow liquid in her right hand, and is looking at it calmly, with the left hand in her white coat's pocket. end ID].

#my art #ace attorney #fantasy life #fantasy life 3ds #phoenix wright #apollo justice #trucy wright #ema skye #vera misham #i tried my best to replicate the fl art style so hopefully that comes across to the like. 2 people that recognize it VBDBDND #i think phoenix and vera turned out the best but i also like ema too.. shes very shaped :3 #kinda glad it took me so long to finish this bc otherwise i probably wouldve drawn vera as a tailor but. theres an artist life now #also accidentally discarded this post the first time i typed it up but thankfully i had the image id copied so i didnt lose all of that text #i think i wouldve lost it if i had to type all that again but alls well that ends well i supposr #also gave me the opportunity to go back and color in apollos hammer bc i forgot the first time and. since the post was gone #i might as well fix it #anyways i had a bit of autism moment while drawing vera but im normal now. maybe #2023

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spctrsgf · 8 months

Text

the cantina

summary: men at a cantina are never a good sign. luckily, you’ve got one small trick up your sleeve that you didn’t even know you had.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: f!reader (din uses the nickname “sweet girl,” I'M SORRY I COULDN'T PASS THE OPPORTUNITY UP), mentions of sex, protective din (deserves his own warning), fluffy as hell

a/n: i am SO sorry for my lack of activity, i've been so unbelievably unmotivated :((( here's an old fic i wrote because protective din has my heart and soul<3

“Hey.” Your head picks up at the sound of Din’s modulated voice, dragging you out of your head. The kid lets out a garble as your attention turns away from rubbing between his ears, but he quickly quiets when you resume your earlier motions. “Mhm?” Your eyes land on the thin strip of glass on his helmet in an attempt to hold his own gaze.

“Would you like to come with us?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “To?”

Din’s helmet lifts as if in confusion, and it seems to hit him that he never vocalized his plan. “Into town. I need to meet Karga and the kid needs food.”

You look down at the kid, his pearly black eyes now pleading, and relent almost instantly. “Sure.”

Din nods, leaning against the wall as you get yourself together. You could feel his eyes tracking your moves, even through the visor, but he wasn’t judging. Just observing. It’s slightly unnerving, but you try to let it slide off your back. Pulling on a light jacket and sealing the kid in his capsule, the three of you then head on your way.

You follow Din as he weaves diligently through both buildings and people, but it’s not like anyone’s really getting close. The locals lend you the courtesy of their attention as you pass, stopping to watch with folded emotion. Maybe they don't get many passersby here.

Nonetheless, the harsh stares punch and stab their tiny claws into you as you fold in on yourself. The new notion makes you unbearably uncomfortable. In contrast, Din stays tall in front of you, the beskar wrapped around him serving as a barrier.

You drop your head at the snarl of one man you made the mistake of connecting eyes with, picking up your pace. As your footsteps become mindless, your mind prepares to delve into itself with the questions you’d since busied yourself away from since leaving the Crest.

Why did he offer to take you with him?

Why was he talking to you now? He used to be so quiet.

Did he feel unsafe without you?

No, that wasn’t it. You couldn’t protect him half as well as he could on his own under all that armor. Hell, he was the one protecting you.

Was he worried about you?

No, let’s be realistic here. He’s worried about the kid, and the kid’s recently taken a liking to you. Din wasn’t worried about you, he didn’t return your feelings…

You yelp as you nearly run into the said man’s back, avoiding a gnarly bruise from the rocket he had strapped on. Din turns, and you take a step back with increasingly red cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t know we had stopped,” bubbles out of your mouth.

He doesn’t say anything, just holds open the door for you to step in. It wasn’t meant to be rude, you know; he just didn’t talk unless he had to.

But, he didn’t have to ask you if you wanted to come earlier, he could have just told you to-

You squash that thought as you step into the cantina, straightening your shoulders. The atmosphere squeezes the air out of your lungs as everyone turns towards you. Or more accurately, Mando.

He nudges you in gently as he sweeps past you, Karga already having his ecstatic greeting halfway out of his mouth.

You hover near the door, unsure of what to do. Sighing, you stride towards the bar, deciding to buy a drink and keep yourself occupied until Mando is done. You feel a cascade of eyes on you again, but this time, they’re on you for a different reason. You will your shoulders to not slump as you pull at your attire, now hating the way it hugged your form.

You gingerly place yourself on a barstool, ordering a random soda in a haste to have something to do. The bartender droid slides the drink to you, but before you can catch it, a hand reaches out to grab it.

“Put it on my tab.” The man next to you says as he plops himself onto the seat next to you. You reach out with a hand that shivers to grab the drink, meeting his gaze with a small smile.

“Thanks, but I can pay for it.”

The man shakes his head. “How could I let someone as stunning as you pay for it? Please, allow me.”

“Alright then. Thank you.” You take a sip of the drink. He seems nice enough.

“I’m Qui.” He holds his hand out.

You respond with your name, meeting him halfway to shake, but instead of doing that, he lifts your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of it.

You swallow deeply, retracting your hand. Is he flirting with me? Your brain swirls with this newfound discovery. No, that’s bullshit, don’t push it. Your eyes flick across his face quickly before dropping down to your drink. He wasn’t that cute at all, really. You much prefer men that wear a beskar helmet and have a kid with big green ears.

…too specific?

You could feel Qui’s gaze on you as you watch the condensation drip down the side of your glass, hovering in places that make you squirm. Oh Maker. You shift uncomfortably, apparently wiggling too much for the man next to you. His hand shoots out to grip your arm alarmingly fast, and you freeze, unsure whether or not to push him off. “Aren’t you gonna finish that drink, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. You hate that nickname.

You cough to clear the shake in your voice, turning to meet his intense purple eyes. “I’m okay, thanks. I actually have some business I need to attend to, but thanks for the chat. And the drink.” You turn to walk away, but his hand grips your arm harder, yanking you into his chest.

“I’ll come with you. Someone as attractive as you shouldn’t be walking home alone.” His eyebrows wiggles suggestively.

You shake your head, pulling away from him again. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a few blocks away.”

Qui puffs out his chest slightly. “Are you sure?”

You nod, expelling out a quick; “Yep!”

“Could I get a method of contact then, love?”

Love. You only want to hear that one from one person's mouth, and it definitely wasn’t Qui’s.

“Uh, maybe another time?” You back up slightly, unsure of how to reject someone when it’d been so long since you’d been asked.

Qui surges forward and grips your arms again. “C’mon, please? You know you wanna meet up with me again.”

Maker, how big is this man’s ego? It certainly wasn’t helping that everyone’s now turning to watch the scene unfold in front of them, none even thinking of reaching out a helping hand.

You yank yourself from his hands, taking on a sense of urgency. “No. I said no.”

Qui’s face twists into a sour frown, jutting out a quip of your name and then “Give me fucking something to contact you with.”

“N-“

Qui leans in, and you could smell the foul smell of alcohol reeking from his breath. “I said give me something. I won’t ask again.”

“Please stop.” You put your hands up and step back, beads of sweat rolling down your back.

“Give it!” He yells, and if people weren’t looking then, they sure are now.

You decide that words weren’t going to get through to this man, no matter how hard you tried. Frozen in place, you brainstorm as quickly as you could. You need something that would threaten him, or even someone-

“Is there a problem here?”

Ah. Like that.

You hear Mando come up behind you, jumping slightly when his hand grips the side of your waist as he comes to stand next to you. Qui frowns, muttering your name in confusion. “Who’s this-“

“I’m a Mandalorian.” Mando didn’t offer his hand out, only a tilt of the helmet.

“Well yeah, I see that-“ he turns to you with a sickeningly sweet smile. “C’mon, you're hanging with him? Ya haven’t even seen his face, I bet.”

Mando’s hand tightens around your waist, and if looks could kill, Qui’d be fucking dead. A pile of fucking bones.

You surge out of Mando’s grip in a wave of anger, coming up to Qui’s chest. “I don’t need to see his face to know he’s not a fucking asshole like you.”

Qui’s smile only falters for a few seconds before it renews even brighter. “Ah, I’m an asshole like this? Because you might be saying something different if you and I left right now.”

Qui’s hand raises to grip your hip, but you’re being yanked backwards into a metal covered chest before he can do so much as move. Your shoulders relax as you puff out breaths of air, coming down from your surge of anger. Mando wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you both diligently out of the cantina, dropping a few credits to a waitress on your way.

The walk back to the ship is quiet, and you’d assume Mando is upset at you if it weren’t for the hand that grips your shoulder tightly. You and the kid are ushered in before Mando closes the hull door almost aggressively.

You busy yourself with situating the kid as Mando watches the door close, silent. The green eared menace is already half asleep, so you don’t bother taking him out of his pod, only wrapping a blanket around him.

You go to turn around to plot the coordinates to your next destination, knowing that Mando is preoccupied in the depths of his helmet, but when you turn, you nearly bump into the said man.

His hands fly to your cheeks in a millisecond, tilting your face left and right as if you had just been in a fight. You let him turn you around to fully assess you, confused at display of affection. As soon as you come back to face him, your eyes dart around his visor like you would be able to read him.

“Are you alright?” Mando’s voice cuts through the silence of the hull. “I- I’m okay, yeah.” You mumble, going to tilt down your face.

A gloved hand catches your chin and tilts it back towards him. “That’s not very convincing.”

“Mando, im fine-“

“Din.”

Your breath catches. “Um, yeah. Din, I’m fine. Just a little shaken, I’ll be okay. I think.” You lift up a hand that’s shivering as if it’s cold.

“You’re okay,” He states, and upon hearing two words that you’d never thought you’d hear from Din’s mouth, you relax slightly into his infinitely stable grip. “He’s not here.”

You nod, believing him. You go to pull away, feeling better now, only for the shock of the whole experience to hit you like a truck. Your chin wobbles as tears threaten to spill over the ducts of your lids.

Din’s helmet lifts up sharply, and if you weren’t so focused on crying in front of the strongest man you knew, you would have registered it as fear. Your eyes flick downwards as a tear slipped out, not wanting to look at him. His hand shifts to your jaw as he wipes the tear away with a care you’d only seen him extend to the kid, gloves kissing the skin of your cheek.

“I’m sorry,“ you burst out of Din’s grip in embarrassment, hiding your face. “This is stupid, I shouldn’t be crying-“

“No,” Din snarls, the ferocity of the word causing your head to shoot up. “No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault, it’s that idiot’s fault for touching you,” his hands grab at your forearms like a little kid and drags you towards him again, capturing you in a tight hug. “I swear I would’ve- I wanted to-“ he takes a deep breath. “You’re okay.”

You two stand like that for a while, Din whispering reassurances that you weren’t sure were for you anymore. You cry a storm and a half into the crook of his neck, between the lip of his helmet and the edge of his undershirt, finally calming down enough to pull away some minutes later.

But, when you move to pull back, Din’s arms don’t budge. You relent your efforts almost immediately, knowing deep down in your gut that both you and him need this connection now. You weren’t complaining, anyway– this is something you’d wished would happen for so long. Maybe not under these circumstances, but you would take whatever you could get.

“Din,” you mumble into his shoulder. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

“Please don’t leave.” He barely says those three words, but you hear them loud and clear.

You tighten your grip on him. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me now.”

He let out a huff of air, and you couldn’t tell whether it was a huff or a laugh. “You were never a nuisance.”

You flush. “Ah, well that’s good news.”

Din let his helmet drop to your shoulder, the cold beskar a contrast to your burning skin. “You’re amazing. I don’t deserve you, sweet girl.”

Sweet girl. Now that was a nickname you could get used to. In fact, you already loved it.

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x reader #star wars #star wars imagine

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aethes-bookshelf · 5 months

Text

we promised we'd save you || astarion/tav/halsin

This chapter took me way longer than I expected it to. I had to finish my biggest commission to date a few weeks after posting part one. It seems it took a lot out of me ^^"

But! I promised comfort, I deliver comfort. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/Tav/Halsin

Warnings: implied/referenced past character death, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Summary: The first thing Tav felt was pain.

ao3 link || part 1

When they came back, Halsin carrying Tav’s dead body, stunned silence washed over the camp. The entire time the party knew Tav, they seemed indestructible. Larger than life, powerful and confident. But now, with their limbs limply swaying with Halsin’s movements, they looked like a little doll; fragile and lifeless..

Their skin was much, much paler than usual, dirty with dried blood and grime. They weren’t wearing their armor; it might have been lost or destroyed at the bhaalist temple. Without their shoulder guards they seemed so much smaller, dwarfed by Halsin’s broad shoulders.

‘What happened?’ said Wyll, eyes wide.

‘Orin happened,’ said Karlach. She had a look of grim determination on her face. ‘Where’s the skeleton?’

* * *

The first thing Tav felt was pain. Every single muscle in their body ached with that deep, crushing kind of pain that made even the slightest movement hell. Their head wasn’t doing any better. Their pulse pounded in their skull, each beat of their heart bringing an uncomfortable sensation in their temples. They were parched, their throat so dry and tight they were sure it would start bleeding at any moment.

They were hurting all over. But if they were hurting, that meant they were alive.

That realization slammed them right back into themself. The last thing Tav remembered before everything went black was being thrown onto the sacrificial altar in the middle of the bhaalist temple.

Tav opened their eyes. Above them was the fabric of their tent — they were back at camp. They were back at camp! Relief flooded their system. Their friends must have come for them before it was too late.

Granted, they couldn’t really move much because of the pain, but it probably wasn’t anything a bit of healing magic couldn’t fix. And a little pain was to be expected after whatever the hell Orin did to them. They would manage with a few more healing potions and Shadowheart’s help.

Tav groaned at the ache as they tried to adjust their legs under the covers. A puff of white hair suddenly came into their vision. It disappeared almost immediately when someone crashed into their chest with a relieved sob. Tav made a short, pained sound.

‘Shit,’ Astarion hissed and reluctantly moved away. He settled for holding Tav’s hand instead. ‘You made me forget myself there, my sweet.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you must’ve been so worried,’ Tav said, their voice teasing and hoarse. They squeezed Astarion’s hand just a little bit tighter; he squeezed back. ‘Still, there’s no need to break my ribs over it, is there?’

Astarion was strangely silent for a beat too long. Tav tried to rise to get a better look at his face but decided against it after the pain pushed them back into their bedroll. ‘What, no witty banter? Are you okay, love?’

That made Astarion snort, unamused. ‘It’d be quite hard for me to be okay after you went and quite literally died on me.’

It was Tav’s turn to go silent. ‘...What do you mean “died”?’ They said after a few moments.

‘I mean “died”.’ He sounded annoyed. Still, his voice shook all the same. ‘You… you died. Orin killed you.’

‘Oh.’ Tav cleared their throat. They refused to let the true weight of that statement reach them. ‘Well, then I’m glad you brought me back. Though we’ll probably have to restock on scrolls of revivify. We’d been running low for a while now, anyway.’

‘See, that’s the thing,’ Astarion had to grab onto the fabric of his pants to stop his hand from shaking, ‘we couldn’t bring you back. We tried the scrolls, they…’ He swallowed, grief thick in his throat. ‘They wouldn’t work. We had to rush you to that blasted skeleton. For a moment I thought I’d…’

…lost you.

Astarion couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He felt as if he was on the brink of a cliff, staring down a bleak, lonely future. He’d rather not think about what his life would be like if Tav had not come back to him.

Tav wished to sit up and cradle Astarion to their chest. But they couldn’t; and they cursed all the gods, devils and hells for it.

‘Lovely, look at me,’ they said instead.

Astarion did as they asked. He was trying very hard not to cry again; he wasn’t sure if he had any tears left to spare.

‘I’m here now, okay? I’m still here.’ They tried to give Astarion a reassuring smile, but it came out as a weak grimace. He smiled back anyway.

‘I know, love. And am I not grateful for it,’ Astarion said, quietly. He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. ‘Give me a moment, I have to tell Halsin you’re okay.’

‘Is he alright?’

‘He’ll be now.’

The tent fell into silence when Astarion left it. Tav’s world shrank down to the pull of their muscles and the pounding in their head.

They died. Almost for good this time. The reality of that crashed down on them so suddenly they felt like they couldn’t breathe.

But they were still here. Was Orin dead then? Did the rescue party get her Netherstone? What of Gortash? Had any progress been made while they were out of it? Just how long had they been out of it?

Their racing thoughts stopped when the flaps of their tent parted and both of their lovers came in. Halsin rushed to their side, worry clear on his face.

‘My heart!’ He was by their side in an instant. He grabbed their hand, just as Astarion had before, and planted a kiss on it. He held it to his face like a drowning man would hold a piece of driftwood.

‘Hi,’ Tav smiled. ‘Glad to be back in the land of the living.’ They could taste the copper tang of blood in the back of their mouth.

Astarion settled next to Halsin and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay, you big oaf,’ he said, doing his best to sound exasperated, ‘they’re okay.’

‘You say it as if you, too, haven’t been beside yourself with worry.’

Astarion scoffed. ‘Yes, yes, the pot calling the kettle black and all that.’ Despite his tone, Astarion’s eyes, locked on Halsin, remained soft.

Halsin rested his and Tav’s intertwined hands in his lap. ‘How are you feeling, my heart?’

‘Like I just died,’ Tav said, in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Everything hurts, I can’t really move.’

Halsin’s brow creased with worry. ‘Let me.’ He lifted his free hand and passed it over Tav’s body. The soothing coolness of healing magic did away with some of their pain.

Relief must have been clear on Tav’s face; Astarion perked up almost instantly. ‘I take it you’re feeling better already, aren’t you?’

‘I suppose I do,’ Tav adjusted their legs under the covers, this time without most of the pain. ‘I wager I’ll be up and about soon enough.’

‘You should rest for a few more days at least,’ Halsin’s voice was firm. Tav suspected there would be no changing his mind.

‘I know, I know.’ They sighed, bored already. ‘And thank you for the healing spell, honey.’

Halsin smiled. ‘The pleasure is mine, my heart.’

‘How long was I out?’

‘Almost a week,’ said Astarion. His head was resting on Halsin’s shoulder. The druid laid his free hand on the vampire’s lap. ‘None of the others knew what to do without you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t, either.’

‘None of us did.’ Halsin sighed. ‘Until now,’ he said and gave Tav a look so full of pure, unfiltered adoration they had to look away for a moment.

‘Until now,’ whispered Astarion.

‘Rest, my love.’ Halsin’s voice was warm and soft. ‘We’ll be here, watching over you.’

Tav nodded and closed their eyes. Sleep came for them quickly.

Their head was no longer pounding.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x halsin #halstarion #bloodbear #hurt/comfort #my writing #bg3 #astarion x tav x halsin #astarion x reader x halsin #halsin x tav #halsin x reader

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netherfeildren · 10 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter I : Apollo

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: The creation of myth.

Content Warnings: Dominant Din Djarin; Unprotected sex; Creampie;Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Overstimulation; Spanking; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Hello, friends, and welcome to the new story!

A few notes: We are starting prior to season one’s canon, and I am doing what I want and making it so that Din already knows about the Force and the Jedi. I make free use of canon and the timeline in whatever way I see fit to suit my own horny purposes, sorry. If things aren’t canon or don’t make sense pls don’t tell me. I am naught but a fragile flower who wilts under harsh criticism.

Please note as well, that I do describe the FMC as having two different colored eyes although I do not specify what color they are.

Also, I will be updating the tags as we go along so as to avoid spoiling too much too early on.

Thank you and enjoy!

Word count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

PART I

CHAPTER I : APOLLO

Is it a god inside you, girl?

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

The first time you meet, he’s sitting in the corner of the shithole cantina on the shithole backwater planet you currently find yourself on: Nevarro. Sometimes you were wont to flight – in search of a nowhere place in the middle of a nowhere part of the galaxy to lose yourself. And the barren landscape of the volcanic planet, a broken star of red, the only interruption in the black field of ash, no wind, no life, no sound; it provides the perfect environment for getting lost when necessary.

And then one day, unexpectedly: him. He is a shining, metallic, mountain of a man.

Mandalorian.

Whenever you’d felt too suffocated, strangulated, in need of a moment, a breather, a reprieve from the reality of what you were… what you are becoming – this place is enough of nothing to be just the perfect something. When you’re not busy flitting from planet to planet, sector to sector, looking for something to fill the gnawing void within you. Before landing here, you’d been on Sorgan for a time. It’d been… nice… peaceful, or whatever approximation of peace you could partially recognize after an existence such as that which you were currently trying to run from. A temperate climate, kind people, but after a while, you’d happened upon a community one day, and they’d been so… so together, so familiar. Happy, they’d be so openly, unabashedly, uncomplicatedly happy. It was simple, and it had made a terrible lance of poisonous jealousy roil through you. Jealousy and anger and bitterness and a loneliness so painful that you’d had to flee, as far and as fast as you could from the reflection of all your envy and shame. And so you’d come here instead, to Nevarro. A more barren, emptier sort of place – better suited to your ilk.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” you croon up at him, smoothly sliding into the booth he’s currently occupying in the furthest dark corner of the cantina, only the gleaming silver crescent of the curve of his helmet visible from the other side of the room.

This is the first of many lies you will tell him.

No response. Only the dark, yawning pit of his visor faced slightly away from you.

The stark curve of his helmet gleams brightly. Beautiful. He looks strong, thickly built. His shoulders, so broad. The armor adorning his torso is beaten and worn, and yet, there’s something so… what’s the word? Lived, perhaps, about the facade of him. This is a creature who has lived – who has seen things, who has battled and survived and most assuredly killed.

Maybe a little like you, but good. For this you know with certainty about Mandalorians – a flash of a pained scream, beskar crumbling beneath the force of you, for not even what could be considered the most endurable alloy in the galaxy could withstand something of your nature, blood, so much blood, and the sound of such defeat as you do the unforgivable– they are good and honorable and worthy – great warriors. But perhaps, on the surface, with a face of shared, painful history, of survival, maybe there are some things between the two of you which could be called similar.

“I’ve always been curious, though… Always wanted to meet one.” You sidle closer to him. There’s something about him, the weapons, the breadth of his shoulders, the silence, which starts a chilled little shiver of fear that flashes and coalesces into something hotter and wetter deep in your belly, the closer you get to him. And the feeling of it – of apprehension, of standing in the presence of something other, something that could perhaps best, even you, it is exciting and arousing and different to everything else you’ve ever encountered.

Still no response.

“You’re hard to come by now. Not many of you left, right?” A curdle of shame and regret hidden beneath your wry tone, “A girl’s got to get extra lucky to find something as interesting as you nowadays… something as pretty too.”

He does react to this, finally, and a little shock of victory fizzes in your belly at the fact that he’s at last deigned to give you even a semblance of his attention, for you are desperately in want of it, as he turns his helmet the fraction of an inch in your direction at the sound of you calling him pretty. So, it seems even a Mandalorian is victim to vanity.

“Oh, so you can hear under there,” you quip, “I was beginning to worry…”

And then his voice, deep, and of potentially the lowest and smoothest baritone you’ve ever heard, comes through the modulator, “I can hear.” Clipped, and even maybe, a little cold.

“And he speaks too!” He flexes open the fingers of the gloved hand that lays on the table. You’re annoying him. “How exciting.” You cross one knee over the other, elbow propped up on the edge of the table and chin cupped in your palm, looking up at him. He’s tall, even sitting. Your joint presses into the hard muscle of his thigh, and you feel him scoot just the tiniest bit away from you. You have the uncontrollable urge to snap your teeth at him. You must surely be at least half his size, especially with all that beskar covering him. Don’t act so scared, big, bad Mandalorian. I’m just a little girl. You don’t know what I actually am.

Helmet now turned entirely in your direction to keep an eye on you, he says, “What are you?” Or… whoops, maybe he does know.

You ignore his question. “You know, I met a whore once – who claimed she’d fucked a Mandalorian. Is it true you just pull out the important bits and get on with it? Seems a bit cold, no? Even for a paid fuck?” He jolts a little at your vulgarity, and you flash him a wide grin, wriggle one delicate eyebrow provocatively. “No game?”

He turns his body to face you more fully now too, his thigh pressing into yours once again as he takes you on directly. Perhaps a warrior's instinct that can sense he is not in the presence of something to be trifled with. The helmet cocks slowly to the side. Silent, silent. Not one for many words this Mandalorian, although, it seems you’ve provoked him now.

“What are you?” he says again, voice measured.

“How do you mean?” You let your voice end on an upward lilt, and he shifts minutely, as if agitated at your uncooperativeness.

“You’re not– I don’t–” The helmet tilts the other way as if inspecting you, and you cut him off before he can finish.

“Oh, so many things.” You roll your hand on your wrist in a fluttering wave, tapping your fingers quickly against your thumb one by one, flexing a muscle you’ve not allowed yourself to use in a while and repressing it, all at once. You’re watching him so closely you see the small pivot of his neck to glance at your hand, and then back to your face. “Who can keep track anymore? So many strange creatures roaming the galaxy after the fall of everything. The Empire. We’re all just madly careening around as whatever the moment requires of us, aren’t we?” He’s quiet, still inspecting you, and you feel his gaze like a brand on the skin of your face. Like fire, like something that you remember from a nightmare, and that you think should be painful, but now only feels exciting. “So, what are you, Mandalorian? What does the present moment require of you?”

He goes silent again, and you watch the subtle downward tilt of his helmet as he inspects the length of you. You wish you could see if he was ogling the tight swell of your breasts beneath your dark clothes. You tilt your head side to side, smile big at him again, and you’re pretty sure you hear an agitated little huff of annoyance slip through the modulator.

And then: “I’m not interested.” He turns back to face away from you, both fists now firmly planted on the table’s surface, clenched into tight balls of clear annoyance. “Go away.”

Oh, he’s funny too. You throw your head back in a quick laugh, “Did I offer something?”

Silence.

“Dirty mind, Mandalorian.” You drag the vowels out to irk him just that extra bit more. “What? Just because I made one little mention of a whore means that, I too, must be peddling my wares?” And you knock your knee into his beskar clad thigh again. He scoots a smidge away from you, and you follow him, laughing again. Oh, you really should stop provoking him, but it’s just turning out to be too much fun. And you’d been watching him for weeks now, every time he came in here for a new bounty puck. You’d so wanted to talk to him, had snooped around to find out he’s in the Guild, and now you finally are. It was just too much for a girl who had too much time on her hands, and too many ugly thoughts she’d rather forget, roaming around in her mind, to look away from a moment of distraction such as this.

“Stop,” and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

You snicker. “Stop what?” in a sing-songed lilt that you know must be grinding his gears. Poor, shiny Mandalorian.

“Whatever it is you’re doing – speaking to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want something from me.”

“What could I possibly want from you?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Who’s the one peddling their wares now, Mandalorian, hmm?” He says nothing now, and you know you’re pushing him, you can see the vibration of his restrained agitation in the lines of his thick arms, but there is something needling and annoying and obnoxious inside of you that wants his attention, that wants to incite him. And so you make a mistake that perhaps, is not a mistake at all, but a call for something more, for a reaction from him because as you slowly start to lift a single finger up towards the curve of his helmet, you say, “Tell me, what do you have to offer?” At the same time, he pivots and snaps up to grasp the thin of your wrist in a bone crushing grip as you’re about to make contact with the smooth surface of the gleaming beskar helmet. And you know you were asking for it, that you should never have even insinuated that you were going to touch a Mandalorian’s helmet, and that this is only your own doing, but as his harsh strength makes contact with you, so unexpectedly, he’s so fast, that you’re caught almost entirely unaware, you react on pure instinct. A reflex so embedded into the deepest and most poisoned recesses of your mind, that despite the fact that you know this is the last sort of reaction you should exhibit, that above all else you needed to keep this part of yourself hidden and secreted away from the rest of the galaxy, you can’t help yourself when, at the moment that his crushing strength slams your hand back down onto the table, twisting painfully so that you’re crying out in shock and hurt, you weren’t going to do anything to him, you just wanted to touch a little, you can’t help it when you let go of the reins on your power, and you feel the Force snap out of you like a band of rubber, to crack out and wrap around his arm and rip his painful grip away from you. Another inviolable tendril shoves against his chest plate to push him back. His movements, too abrupt, too unexpectedly aggressive to give you a moment to temper your reaction, to give you a chance to remind yourself that this is not one of your painful, dark memories, that you’re free, you’re free, you’re free, and suppress your reaction to not reveal yourself.

The two of you pause for one long moment, him by force, and you in shock and fear and slight nausea as you pant breathlessly. It’s been a long time since you’ve lashed out like this, since you’ve used the Force in front of another person, and the sensation of being perceived, of being seen for what you truly are is disequilibrating and terrifying and sickeningly liberating all at the same time.

One thick arm of his is held up and pinned against the back of the booth the two of you are ensconced in, hidden from prying eyes, at least. His legs start to shift restlessly, seeking purchase or trying to kick out, and you pin him there too, lest he try and hurt you again.

“I do not like to be handled so,” you admonish him, clicking your tongue. You can feel the seething fury rolling off him. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you. I am not going to do anything to you.” He’s got a blaster strapped into a holster at his thigh, and you’re sure his vambrace is hiding several other nasty tricks up his sleeve. You eye them both. “If I let you go, are you going to try and hurt me again?”

“No,” he growls out.

“No,” you mock back, but release him anyway, letting an impenetrable wall settle between the two of you. He immediately goes for his blaster, and you block his reach which has him furiously growling and lurching towards you, only to be met by the invisible Force impeding his attack. He spits a frustrated volley of curses in a language you can’t understand, but that you’re fairly certain is Mando’a.

“Ah, ah, no blaster,” you tut, and he settles, going suddenly, shockingly still, watching you watch him. “You really are quite poorly mannered and surly.” There’s a part of you that is still slightly unbalanced, heart beating painfully against the cage of your ribs, but you’re trying to hide it behind a wry smile and light tone. Echoes of pain and hurt and cruel and unyielding hands molding you into a thing that was just as cruel and unyielding. You cannot tolerate being handled like that anymore, and you feel contrite that you’d provoked him into doing so. Sometimes it is still difficult for you to remember how it is you’re supposed to behave around other people.

And then something you weren’t expecting, for he says, “You’re a Force weilder. You’re a Jedi.”

You let out a barking laugh. “What do you know of the Force?”

“Are you?” He presses.

“Yes, but no, definitely not that, no.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing. Or… whatever the opposite of a Jedi is, I suppose.”

“The opposite?” He shakes his head, “I don’t–”

“Hmm…” you cut him off, turning to make sure the two of you still haven’t been noticed. “Not anymore. I don’t use it anymore.”

“Oh, no?”

“Well… you’ve gone and ruined that now, haven’t you?”

“You started–”

“All I was trying to do,” you interrupt, “Was make nice. I’d always wanted to meet a Mandalorian,” Lie, “Haven’t you ever heard of a little flirting? And I fear, now, you’ve painted them all in a very poor light,” Lie, “Look at how rude you’ve gone and been, when all I wanted was to be friends,” Another lie, “A shame…” you heave a big sigh, “You really are very beautiful.” Truth. That fist clenches again, and you cock your head to the side, getting one last good look at him. You feel suddenly sad, you don't want to go. You’ve enjoyed this brief moment you’ve gotten to talk to him. Even if you’d gone and pissed him off and ruined it all now.

“It was nice meeting you, shiny. Even if you were an abominable beast about it.” You give him a nod of your head, and a quick two fingered salute before you’re sliding out of the enshroudment of the booth and slipping out the back of the cantina, into the dark alleyway, leaving him behind.

The last glimpse you catch of him out of the corner of your eye before the door shuts behind you, is the sight of him scrambling out of the booth and starting towards the door to follow after you.

A glutton for punishment, then, so it seems.

You flit through the dark, dirty alleys, scampering from shadow to shadow. The city streets around you, gone quiet now as the sun over Nevarro sets quickly, and you can feel him hunting after you. He’s strong, and you can almost feel the heavy weight of his life force even at a distance, almost as if the goodness and honesty of his character is a presence of its own, sentient in a way. And he’s angry, and you can feel that too, charging after you, provoked, even if he does it on entirely silent and measured feet. You can sense that ravenous curiosity and frustration at being bested and evaded pressing up against you, chasing after you. As if there were some dark red thread connecting the two of you from spine to rib bone, leading him to you, pulling him along your trail. You tiptoe the lines of the shadows silently, making your way through the winding city streets, feeling him getting closer and closer, trying to confuse him, even as he gains on you anyway.

And then he’s there.

You feel a massive hand, strong and sure, clamp around the back of your neck, but his touch is measured this time – he’d heeded your warning. His other hand wraps around the bend of your elbow, twisting your arm back behind you, and then he’s kicking open the nearest door, what seems to be some sort of storage alcove, the space dark and humid and mildewed, and pushing you inside. He shoves you away from him once you pass together into the darkness, and you catch yourself on the edge of what feels like some sort of table or workbench.

You laugh breathlessly. Overwhelmed by the thrill of the chase, of the feel of his hands on you, the surrounding darkness, the sound of his own panting breath through the modulator of his helmet. You hope he’s just as overwhelmed, disequilibrated, as you are now.

“Oh, you again?” you laugh, turning to face him, bracing yourself back against the table. All you can see of him is the silver crescent of the curve of his helmet, the outline of his wide shoulders in the dim light of the moon seeping in through the cracks of space around the door. He is a steel giant.“Did you forget something? Need me to hand your ass to you again, Mandalorian?”

“You’re a fucking brat. Anyone ever tell you that before?”

You gasp mockingly, “Me? Never.”

“Why is it that everything you say sounds vaguely like a taunt? Like you’re trying to provoke me.”

And, oh, he sounds just so unbearably serious and put out by you, that you pout, forced to match his serious tone with one of your own. You force the smile to leave your voice, “Maybe because I am,” and your voice goes quieter, softer, because again, truth. There is something about him that incites provocation, you want him rattled, come undone. “Maybe I want to see what happens when a man made of metal loses control.”

“I can’t – I don’t–” His voice, even through the modulator, is its own flavor of foreplay. “I don’t know…” he says again, whispers it, his tone seeping through the helmet, entirely uncertain, or at war with himself.

He takes one menacing step forward, made even all the more intimidating by the vast difference in your heights, the sheer breadth of him, the darkness wrapping around him so that all he’s made into are slivers of gleaming silver flame here and there. You feel the whisper of one leather covered finger skim lightly over the outside of your right forearm, another soft touch to the left side of your waist, and you shiver all over.

“Not a virgin? Your Creed lets you fuck?”

“No.”

“No, what? Use your words.”

Silence. Stubborn, silent, tin can.

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Whores?”

A grunt.

“Aha! Gotcha.” You start to toe your foot forward, bending your knee to make contact with him when you find his leg, tilting slightly away from the table so that you can slide your thigh between his legs. “Is that what you want me to be for you?”

“No.” Fucking monosyllabic–

“Then what do you want from me? Why did you follow me?”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t lie.”

“I want to fuck you.” Your cunt goes soaked and tight at his words, because yes, yes yes, this is what you were leading him to. Finally, he’s caught on, and then he’s planting a strong, broad hand to the center of your chest and pushing you back into the table, and pressing the hard, unyielding length of himself against you. He’s hard and swollen beneath his pants, you can feel the thick heft of him against your belly as he presses into you, and you bring your palms up to slide against the unprotected sides of his strong waist, sending him into a full body shudder as you touch him, helmet falling forward on his neck as he hunches over you, hands planted on the table behind. You can hear his labored, panting breath huffing through the modulator as you run your hands along the planes of him. He’s huge, pure muscle beneath unrelenting beskar, and if you weren’t the creature that you are, you’d feel slightly frightened at the unbelievable strength he’s made up of. He is a thrumming effigy of restrained power beneath your hands, different to that which makes you up, and you feel the strength of him once again, humming through the Force. His light burns so bright, almost blindingly. He’s strong.

You slide one of your hands up his chest plate, tucking your fingers into the top-most edge to bring yourself up and closer to him as he curves over you, bending you back into an arch over the table’s edge. Your other hand reaches for his wrist braced against the table, wrapping around it, so thick your fingers don’t meet, to tuck your fingertips into the space where his sleeve meets his glove, and at the feel of your bare skin on his, just there, just there, he growls, deep and savage in his chest at the same time that you let out a breathy, warbled moan. His other hand shoots up to grasp at the small of your back and press you into him, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. He’s burning hot, sweltering, and he slides his palm lower, tilting your pelvis into his as you hitch one of your knees up the outside of his thigh to his hip, and then your cunt is rocking against the thick length of his cock, and another breathless, pained groan from the both of you as you make contact there, pushing and pulling against each other. You want to taste his skin, his tongue, you want to kiss him, to feel him licking into your mouth. You pull yourself in closer by the hand tucked into his chestplate to press your face into the warm space between his helmet’s edge and the folds of his cowl. He smells so good, like leather and sweat and metal. Something earthy and musky, something that proves to you that despite the beskar, there is only a man of flesh and blood and want beneath.

His palm slides to grip the lush of your ass, rolling you onto his length harder, pressing deeper as if he could fuck you through your clothes.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, little brat?” he pants, ending on a stuttered groan as you hook your calf around his waist and press your foot into the small of his back to grind particularly sharply onto him, pressing your clit into the edge of his utility belt, “Please, just– just–” you gasp, head falling back on your neck. And then he’s spinning you abruptly and pressing between your shoulder blades so that you're bent entirely over the table, cheek smushed against the hard surface. That wide palm slides down the slope of your spine, squeezes your asscheek harshly so that you’re moaning out in lust or pain, you can’t tell.

“Was that a yes? Who can’t use their words now?”

“I liked it better when you weren’t talking,” you grouch, but then his fingers have somehow snuck their way up beneath your tunic and under the edge of your trousers, and he’s ripping everything down to leave you bare and unprotected from the sudden onslaught of that huge expanse of leather clad palm cracking down painfully on the soft skin of your ass so that you’re scrambling to find the opposite end of the table to pull yourself away from him. A pathetic little screech claws its way out of you, and he wraps the length of your hair around his fist to pull your head back and up, turning you into his own little bow string, head resting back on the hard pauldron over his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? I caught you, you’re mine now.”

“Fuck off–” You try, but he clamps his fingers around your jaw, squeezing the fine bones of your face to cut you off, his other hand in your hair gives a sharp tug that makes the tips of your breasts go hot and tight and your cunt clench around nothing. You can feel yourself dripping down the insides of your naked thighs.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, shoving the thick of his fingers inside to press down on your tongue. You try and moan around him, protest or something, but you can’t help but run your tongue around the digits, tasting the smokiness of blaster residue, the tang of whatever he must use to oil his gloves. “Finally, some silence. I like you better like this,” he taunts you with an imitation of your previous words. He bends his head forward, “Get them wet,” he murmurs, voice soft and sultry through the modulator, and the moan you give him now is all desperation as you let saliva pool heavy on your tongue to coat the leather.

When he pulls them from your mouth, tugging your head back further so that you can look up into the dark tee of his visor as he slides his spit slick gloves between your thighs to press against your throbbing clit, your whimpered little mewl has a chastising tut filtering through the helmet, “Slippery, little thing.” He starts to press slow circles to the aching bundle of nerves, sliding down on every other swirl to press gentle, teasing pressure to your clenching opening. “Did my chasing do all this? Do you like being hunted, brat?”

“Not–” you moan as he presses down hard on your clit, then back to the mouth of your cunt, giving you just the tip of his finger, “Not a brat,” you struggle to get out.

“No?” He starts to press two fingers inside at once, both of you groaning in tandem. “Maker – fucking tight–” He scissors his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist to fuck you open, making room for himself inside of you. “Don’t know if I’ll even fit in here.”

“No,” you groan, low and drawn out, and then, yes, whispered breathlessly, one of your arms reaching back to hold onto the wrist of his hand still twisted in your hair, trying to find purchase on anything to anchor yourself with. Because the stretch of just his two fingers inside of you – you can hear the slick squelch of your wetness as he starts to fuck them in and out of you slowly – is so unexpectedly obscene. You had not expected to find yourself in this position with any man, especially not one like this – had not thought you were yet ready to be touched by another person. Not so soon after– “Please – m– more. I want–”

“You think you’re ready for my cock, little one? Have I stretched this tiny cunt out enough?”

“Yes– yes. Just do it.”

“Fuck–” You listen to the wet little pop as he pulls his fingers from you, and the clink and shuffle of his belt and armor as he pulls himself out of his clothes, and then he’s shifting behind you as you brace against the edge of the table. The burning hot blunt tip of his cock skimming against the round of your ass, and you feel him spread his feet wide, bend his knees, and then his cock is there at the slick mouth of your cunt, and he’s thrusting up and into you on the downward roll of your hips, and Maker, he’s deep like this. Suddenly, twin strangled groans of pain or relief ripping from your throats in tandem as he grinds deep, deeper, for a moment. You feel the heavy kick and throb of his cock inside of you, and he is too big, too thick – he forces you to take it anyway. Stretching you in a way you’ve never been before, your eyes smart, forcing your body to make room for his inside of you, it leaves your breath to stutter out in a weak little puff of shock.

And you moan, using the palms of your hands against the edge of the table to grind yourself back onto him while his hands clamp tightly around your hips, his fingers so long they almost meet at the center of your belly beneath your navel.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. That’s so good.

You can’t tell which one of you is speaking. You can't even tell if you’re still breathing. And then he starts to move.

You knew he’d fuck hard, from the first moment you’d seen him, you knew.

He pulls his hips back, the slick wet, the grasping walls of your cunt trying to suck him back in, and then the scorching slide of him pressing back in, in, in, grinding again, those long fingers pressing down on your belly so that you feel him from the outside too.

“Harder,” you beg, because of course you want more. You are a creature made of greed and hunger. You always have been.

“Quit. You’ll take whatever the fuck you’re given,” but his hips slam back in, a savage growl punctuating the movement.

He gives it to you almost brutally, without pause or thought, fucking punched out breaths and whines from you.

“Shut up,” he spits on the end of one particularly deep, harsh thrust that’s followed by a high pitched mewl from you. “You want every piece of shit on Nevarro to find you split open on my cock like this?” Your head lolls back limply on his shoulder, the wet slap of his heavy balls against your clit overwhelming the sound of your thoughts. You can’t speak, your brain is currently being jostled within the confines of your skull by the force of his cock splitting you open. “No? Then be a good girl, and be quiet,” his voice, rough, even through the modulator is almost drowned out by the wet, obscene sound of him pounding into you.

He brings one of his hands back up to your jaw, turning your head slightly so that your nose is almost smushed up against the chrome of his visor. He wants to look at you. The hard beskar of his chest plate rubs harshly against your back on every push upwards of his hips, and you’re sure that’ll hurt later, but right now you just can’t seem to care. You can feel the humid, warm air of your panting breath, foggy against the gleam of his helmet, and you bring one of your hands up to the wrist holding your face, holding on for dear life, sanity, you’re not sure what. Your other hand twists back into the hanging fabric of his cloak so that you can pull yourself more tightly back into him as he slows his thrusts, making them longer and more drawn out. “Yeah– like that. Settle… good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut. Too much, too much. It should hurt. You wanted it to hurt. Not gentle, you don’t want it gentle.

“Harder,” you whine, plead.

“No. How I say.” He rolls his cock into you over and over, your slick sliding down your thighs, the backs abraded by the plates of beskar over his own legs. He’s so deep, so big it hurts so good. Even if you want it harder, it still hurts so good. The hand at your face slides down to rip open the fastening of your high necked tunic, reaching inside and under your breast band to pull out the heavy aching weight of your tit and pinch your nipple, rolling it between his strong leather clad fingers – more high, desperate mewls that have him groaning deep in his chest. You’re sure if your face wasn't so close to his you’d never be able to hear them through the helmet, low and rumbly and so delicious.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs low, cupping your breast to plump it up, massaging it in his palm.

“What? You can see?”

“Yeah– fuck yes, I can see.”

“Not fair,” you whine. It’s so dark in the little room he’d pushed you into, you’re not even going to get to take a good look at his cock before this is all over.

“You don’t need to see. You just need to be good and take it.”

“Do you ever kiss?” you ask him suddenly. Irritated by the fact that you’ve not gotten to ogle him – or kiss him. If he even does that.

Another deep roll of his hips, a tight squeeze to the swinging globe of your breast, “No.”

“That’s a shame.”

And he responds immediately, voice subdued and even, underneath the helmet, despite the fact that you feel like he’s cleaving you in two. “Maybe next time,” he says. His palm slides down to your belly then, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades to fold you over the table, hands moving to wrap around your hips and lift you up and back onto his impaling cock so that the tips of your toes are left skimming the ground beneath, your fingers scramble and claw for purchase against the wood of the table. You can feel the wide tip of his cock punching against your womb on every thrust in and stars flash behind your eyes, mouth hanging open pathetically.

There is nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. Like he wants to split you in two, like he wants to make sure the shape of him is branded into the center of your body so that you’d never forget this. The sticky sweet coil of your orgasm starts up low in your belly, and you feel molded in his image for one second, pushed out of yourself to stand on the sidelines and look upon the sight of your much smaller form draped over the table and being fucked into so savagely by this silver blade of a man.

And then: they’re fucking bare, they’re fucking raw, and it has been so, so long since he has felt the touch of another person, someone else’s skin on his that was not bestowed upon him in violence or with the barrier of a sheath between. It is an almost overwhelming feeling, that of your hot, soaking wet cunt pulsing around him, you’re about to come for him, he can feel it. The fluttering of your inner muscles, delicate thing that you are, your thighs shaking as you struggle to push yourself back on to him to get it harder, deeper. He is, almost, made faint with the feeling. And those eyes… you’ve got the strangest multicolored eyes. One enshrouded entirely in darkness compared to its bright counterpart – as if one had forgotten to take that last step into the light. You’re fucking beautiful and–

You snap back into yourself. No, no, no, stay out of his head. Stay out of his head. Focus. You push yourself up again so that your back is against his chest, and he bands one tremendously strong arm around you, gripping your breast tightly. You feel him bend his knees framing your thighs to change and deepen the angle, and then he’s pounding right into that tender, devastating place inside of you, and your cunt twists and floods with your orgasm, electric shocks of pleasure numbing your fingers and toes. You can do nothing more than let him do with you what he will. Your toes aren’t even touching the floor.

He presses as deep as he can, grinds for a moment, and then he folds you over the table once again and presses down harshly on the small of your back with one heavy palm as he pulls his cock from you and finishes himself off. You listen to the wet thwack, thwack, thwack of him pulling on his cock, and then the searing hot spurt of his come is hitting your ass and the exposed seam of your fluttering cunt, a savage growl ripping through the modulator as he squeezes all of the air out of you with that unyielding hand. You’re like a pressed flower between the pages of a book – wilted and frayed, but still held in the image of that which you once were. At the last spurt from his cock he brings his hand to your ass, spreads you apart to rub his spend into the tight furl of your ass, and then further down into your throbbing, overly sensitive clit. All you can do is cry and whimper weakly, still trembling from your own orgasm. “T– too much, nooo,” you whine pathetically.

“Easy – easy, settle.”

You feel him fall to a crouch behind you, pulling you apart with both hands by the meat of your ass to look upon the sight of your blushed, fluttering hole. Messy, little cunt, you hear him whisper. He rubs his come into your trembling thighs, over your swollen clit again, inspecting every vulnerable inch and crevice of your sex, and then he’s pushing two of those thick fingers back inside of you, the passage made slick and fucked open by your mingled come. “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. You try and wiggle away, tears of oversensitivity brimming beneath your lashes, I can’t, I can’t, you think you whisper, but he’s inescapable. He clamps one hand painfully over your asscheek, keeping you spread apart for his inspection, the other one buried deep inside of you so that his fingers are hooked against your g-spot where he presses over and over, quick and relentless, his fingers almost vibrating inside of you until your vision is going white hot and a buzzing sound rings in your ears, and you’re crying for what you think might sound like mercy or something equally despeerate. “Yes, fuck, yes. Just like that.” Your answering sob does not prompt him to abate, for he keeps his fingers pressed against that spot inside of you until you’re leaking an embarrassing amount of wetness down your thighs, until the rippling throbs of your orgasm have finally settled. You feel his head fall forward, the beskar of his helmet pressing against the space where your asscheek meets your thigh, and he holds there for a second against your burning hot skin, the scorching soothed by the cool metal.

You can’t stop shaking, you feel, suddenly, like you might cry. You were not prepared for something of this intensity, to be touched like this, and now that it’s happened you’re left reeling. You don’t even know his name. And now you’re sure he’ll go away to wherever it is that Mandalorian bounty hunters run off to, and you’ll never see him again, and you’ll have to live with the memory of this forever. And something like this… amidst all the other horror that lives within you, you’re sure that the intimacy, the fervor of this, will make it hurt all the more, even compared to all the rest.

He uncoils behind you, rising up to his towering height. You listen to the rustling of his clothes, and then he’s smoothing a large palm over the slope of your trembling back and reaching down to pull up your trousers, tucking your breast back beneath your tunic, righting your clothes for you without commentary. When you think you’ve finally caught your breath, or can at least pretend you’ve done so, enough to push yourself up from your position over the table. Your eyes feel pinched and hot, your heart beating so hard, almost painfully, within the confines of your ribcage that it feels as though your bones are rattling beneath your skin, knocking together in the imitation of a death rattle so that he’ll surely know that you feel two paces away from falling apart entirely.

“You’re… Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” Voice stilted.

“No more than I wanted you to.”

He’s silent for a moment, uncomfortable. You can feel the sensation of him pulling away, getting ready to make a run for it. “That’s not–” he cuts himself off. “Do you– do you spend much time on planet?” He’s awkward, uncomfortable now with this unnecessary notion of seemingly required small talk.

“No.” Lie. You like Nevarro, you spend more time here than anywhere else.

“What’s your name?” It shocks you that he asks, for you know he’d not give you his if you asked it of him in return, but for one infinitely painful, insanely uncharacteristic moment, you want to tell him. You want to give him your real name desperately, tell him who you are. But if you were to do that, then you might tell him what you are. And then he’d hate you, and the memory would be ruined, and you have so few good ones, that this one must be protected at all costs.

So instead you say that which you have no real desire to say, do what you have no real desire to do, and make sure that he thinks you’re not interested, that you have no desire to ever see him again. Maybe next time. Your heart gives a surprisingly painful pinch, your eyes growing hotter by the second. “This was just a fuck, don’t get all sentimental on me now.” Your voice is so cold, so uncaring. You hate the way you can make yourself sound sometimes. You sense him snap with tense shock, and he nods once, succinctly. “Very well. Thank you… for this. I suppose.”

You lean back against the table, trying your hardest to appear as unaffected as you can. You turn your face to the side, roll your cheek over the hill of your shoulder. “It was my pleasure.”

He turns to go, his cape snapping with the sharp abruptness of his movements, and he pulls open the door of the little storage room letting a flood of moonlight sweep in to shed light on the construction of this memory you’re assembling brick by brick to preserve in your mind for as long as you possibly can. Your eyes sweep over the length of him ravenously, trying to catalog every single detail of him, the incredible breadth of his shoulders, the silver gleam of his beskar helmet, the sweep of his cape, the arsenal of weapons strapped to his body, lethal. He turns back to look at you for one moment, the yawning darkness of his chrome visor, “Don’t get killed, Mandalorian. There are so few of you left now.” And truth, truth, truth, for it would be a shame beyond imagining for a creature such as this, something so strong and beautiful and other, to perish when so few like him remain. He pauses to take you in, as well. You wish you had the courage to ask him what he sees when he looks at a thing like you. The tears are right there, and you hate them and feel weak and disgusted, but also relieved, and you could fall to your knees, in this moment, to thank the Maker that you still possess the ability, the heart, to cry, to succumb to something as trife as tears. You hope he cannot see them. The helmet cocks to the side for one second, perhaps he too is cataloging you to his memory. He nods once, and then he’s turning and gone away into the night. The door snicks shut behind him, and you’re alone once again.

You pause for a moment, hoping that relief will come. He’s gone, you got what you wanted from him. You should be glad. But there is only the screaming thought of wait, there was still more, there was still more that I wanted from you.

You let yourself sink slowly to the ground, hand braced against the edge of the table he just fucked you over, lest your shaking legs give out and have you planting face first into the dirt. You fold your legs beneath you, tuck your wild hair gently behind your ears, your movements measured, trying to breathe deep and slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Don’t cry, there’s no reason to cry. But shouldn’t we be glad we can still cry? Isn’t it a sign that not all is lost? That there is still a part of us that feels enough to shed tears? This should be a good thing. And so you let the tears fall. You fold yourself over as small as you can, one hand pressed over your hot, leaking eyes, another over your mouth to keep your sounds contained, and you sob as quietly as you possibly can. It was so good and you’re crying and you’re alive and you’re free. You are free, and you should be glad of this. Cry, cry, but cry for your own victory, for your own freedom, for the chance to cry. This is what victory feels like. This is what it is to be alive.

And so, here is your truth: It is a difficult thing, to shed the facets of the dark side after you’ve lived with it for so long. To be a Sith is to forsake all connection, all peace. There is only passion to strength to power to victory to the Force, but it is always alone. Always against someone or something else. So, yes, it is difficult to shed the facets of the dark side that have made you the thing you’ve been for more than half your life, since the time you were stolen from your cradle, your parents slaughtered, and spirited away into the shadow of a cruel and unforgiving master. What is it to know exactly how your life will play out, to see everything, to be so aware of what you will be – and to still be lost? Part agony, part madness. The pieces of you that are secretive, that like to hide, to run, these are especially difficult to let go of, and you are so, so interminably sad, you live in it. It’s all you feel you are now, after the dark, after the fall of the Empire and the Sith, after escape, after freedom, after you’d so forcibly ripped its claws, that were so deeply sunk within you, out by sheer force of will, by sheer force of desperation, you worry that it’s taken a piece of you with it, your soul. That it had eaten a piece of you. That you don’t have one anymore.

You don’t even know his name. And even if you’re certain he would not have given it to you, for one moment, you feel an incredible lance of regret that you did not give him yours.

But then: a person without a soul could not cry.

And so this must only be proof of the fact that you must still possess yours, as shriveled or weak as it’s been made, you must still have one. You must. You must.

And you think: I am not unfamiliar with this half life – there is a wound inside of me – dark and putrid and festering. But perhaps my tears will heal me. Seal the wound closed.

You feel lonely – worse, you feel strange. Once, you were terrible – now you are only yourself. So you cry for the passion of the moment, for the way he made you feel, for the loss of a name, for the truth of freedom.

Chapter II

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zoeykallus · 10 months

Note

The batcher’s reaction to fem!reader saying “ YOU’RE NAKED?” when I’m reality, they’re just wearing their blacks.😭

Being used to seeing in their armor 99.99% of the time caught her by surprised.

😁

Sounds like fun...

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader Shorts - Under The Armor

Pre Relationship/Fluff/Humor/Slightly Suggestive/Crosshair (Mentioned Nudity)

_______________

Hunter

He comes out of the shower, wearing fresh Blacks, but his armor is still in his bunk. Earlier you were in the cockpit, but right now you're standing at your own bunk making your bed when you notice him enter the room. Hunter's bunk is not far from yours. Your gaze lifts from your bunk to look in his direction. He looks at you in confusion, as you widen your eyes and hastily stare back at your bunk with hot ears. "You're naked," you say quietly, startled and nervous at the same time. "Huh?" Hunter hastily looks down at himself; for a second you've rattled him. He's beginning to think he forgot his Blacks' pants or didn't pull them up properly. But everything fits as it should. "I'm not," he finally says, frowning. "But as good as. I don't think I've ever seen you without the armor. The Blacks don't leave too much to the imagination, after all. Hunter looks down at himself again, clears his throat, and says, "Well, they're tight-fitting, there's a reason for that." You dare a quick glance from the side, eyeing him quickly and looking away again, feeling your cheeks grow warm. A smile spreads across his face. "Come on, I'm fully clothed, feel free to look at me". You ask teasingly, "So you want me to look at you?"

He pauses. "Uh... well, I just mean that there's no reason for you to deliberately avert your gaze." You don't really know what to say, but Crosshair more or less saves you by calling for Hunter. "Hurry up, Hunter, we have to leave soon". Hunter grabs his chest plate, slips into it, grabs his remaining armor pieces and runs. Crosshair stands at the end of the hallway waiting for him. You can't help yourself, your gaze automatically follows Hunter, eyeing his taut buttocks that are clearly visible under the Blacks. Until you realize that Crosshair is looking at you. Hastily, you avert your gaze when you see his raised brows. Then you hear it from a distance as the two men walk away together, "Hey Chief, the rookie totally checked out your ass." "She did?" asks Hunter in surprise, sounding eager. "Definitely," Crosshair replies. You nervously quickly gather your gear as your pulse races. "Damn," you grumble under your breath.

Echo

He is cleaning his equipment and has taken it off and spread it on the table when you come into the room. When Echo hears the sound of the door, he looks up and in your direction. He smiles at you, but his expression quickly turns puzzled as you make a small startled noise, averting your eyes and shielding them with the flat of your hands. "Sorry," you say as you hurry past him, "I shouldn't have just barged in like that." Echo who doesn't understand at all what's going on says, "This is a common room of our squad, you don't have to knock here" he says slowly. You sigh in annoyance and ask, "If this is a common room, why are you getting undressed in here?".

"Well, usually only my brothers are around here, no women. Besides, I'm still clothed. I've only taken off my armor," he says, explaining, still confused. You quickly grab the jacket you left here and just want to get and move back towards the door when he suddenly grabs your arm. Again you make a small startled noise. "That's just my armor I took off, I'm not naked. Besides, I thought you've seen a lot of clones in this state." You yank your arm free and your eyes meet. Your gaze bores into his, burning. His eyes widen and the look he stares at you with is suddenly that of a cornered prey animal. "What did you just imply?" you growl at him.

Echo blinks. "That there are clones running around in their Blacks all over the barracks here. You're bound to have seen one," he says, blinking uncertainly. Now you blink yourself. "Um, no, not really. I've definitely seen tracksuits and such, but not underwear." Echo laughs softly. "That's not underwear" You frown, "Oh no? You do wear that under your armor, don't you?" "Well yeah, but-" "Do you have anything else on underneath, under the Blacks?" Echo pauses. "Uh... no." You say with your ears and cheeks getting hot, "Well then it's underwear". Echo swallows and says, "Well, I guess in that sense it's underwear" "Very tight-fitting underwear" you add. Echo suddenly has some color in his face for the first time in a long time.

Wrecker

He has just taken a fresh shower and put on his blacks. But since he doesn't have to leave for the time being, he has left the armor off. Wrecker knocks on your cabin door, the boys want to order food, and he wants to ask you what you want. When you open the door and open your eyes in shock, though, he pauses. "What's wrong?" he asks, puzzled. "You're naked." Wrecker looks down at himself, startled. He's dreamed of accidentally walking around naked before, and he's unsettled for a moment. But he sees he is wearing his blacks. He laughs heartily and says, "You almost had me". You blink, averting your gaze, and say, "I don't think I've ever seen you without your armor on." He frowns. "Oh. You really feel that's nudity? Girl, I'm not naked" "But as good as" He laughs again, "Not even close, my whole body is covered except my head" With heated cheeks, you look back up into his face, trying not to stare at his muscular body in the tight Blacks. "It is, unfamiliar" "Do I look that bad?" he asks uncertainly. You smile nervously, "No, I didn't mean it like that". He grins at you. "Then maybe you can get used to it".

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, "I'd love to." He raises his brows in amusement. "Are you flirting with me?" You laugh nervously and say, "Not on purpose." He laughs softly, "Too bad. Maybe some other time?" You shyly clear your throat and nod, "Sure." "Alright" He says with a smirk and finally asks, "What do you want to eat? We were going to order something"

Tech

He is once again absorbed in his datapad when you come into the room. Tech has made himself more comfortable, the squad doesn't have to go out for the next two days. He wears only his Blacks, and the rest of his armor is in his bunk. He has heard your footsteps and looks up briefly to greet you, with his small, barely noticeable, shy smile. Tech actually wants to turn back to his datapad, but something about your expression makes him look up again, perplexed. You stare at him, your eyes automatically wandering along his lean, tall body. "Is something wrong?" he asks, snapping you out of your stupor. You hastily avert your gaze and mutter, "You're almost naked." Tech tilts his head slightly to the side, questioningly. "Hardly. My body is almost entirely covered with clothes, only my head is unclothed, you can't really call that naked, not even almost naked."

You don't know what to do with your hands and hug yourself nervously. "Well, it's tight-fitting clothes, without your armor. It may not be naked, but it's still pretty revealing compared to the outfit I'm used to." Tech lowers the datapad. ""Revealing? I don't think so." You shrug and say, "It's just unfamiliar, I can see your body clearly outlined under the fabric" Tech blinks. "And that repels you?" Startled, you look back up at him. "What, no! That... I meant it differently... I," the words slip out of your mouth and you fall silent. Tech looks down at himself, a little unsettled, then looks at you questioningly. "Would you rather I put on my gear or Civil clothes?" "No... I mean yes... I mean... you can wear whatever you want.... I was just surprised." Tech shows his shy smile again, then asks, "Could it be that you're nervous because you're attracted to me physically or in some other way, and you don't know how to handle it? Your mouth pops open, your eyes get big, and you get hot and cold. Did he just see right through you?

"Uh... I", you are at a loss for words and in a panic you improvise, "Oh, did you hear that, the sergeant called me". Tech looks after you with interest as you move away. Finally, he smiles again and says softly, pleased, "She likes me".

Crosshair

You jump up, startled, as he enters the room and after a brief stare, you hastily avert your eyes. He stops, looks at you and raises his eyebrows. "What's the matter with you? Scared kitten" "You are naked!" you say, as if that must be obvious to him. A few seconds of silence pass, then he says, "No I'm not, but I'd be happy to show you the difference, so this doesn't happen to you again" You stare at him, startled, as he first takes off the top of his Blacks and is already about to take off the bottom. "What are you doing?" you ask, unable to stop staring. He finally stands naked in front of you and says, "Showing you the difference." Your mouth drops open, and you don't know what to say. Crosshair stands there, naked lean, steeled. With all your strength, you try not to stare at his crotch. "See the difference now?" he asks teasingly. "Uh, yeah, definitely," you say, and swallow. "Good."

Hunter comes in and sighs in annoyance, "Crosshair, get dressed again. You already have two warnings for improper behavior in the barracks." Crosshair leisurely puts his clothes back on and says, "I just wanted to point something out?" Hunter rolls his eyes. "Don't do that, you'll get yourself in trouble. We have a woman on the team now, you need to knock it off." Crosshair smirks and says, "She could have looked the other way, but she was enjoying the sight" With heated cheeks, you hastily turn away. " You don't have to turn around now, kitten, now I'm dressed again".

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@starwarsnerd111

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elizabethemerald · 3 months

Text

5+1 Meeting the Nightingales

5 Times the Bat family met Jazz Nightingale and her son Danny, + 1 Time the Nightingales met the rest of the Batfamily

AO3

The first time Jason met Jazz and Danny he was actually dressed in civvies. He had run out of a few staples and knew at least one of his siblings would drop by unannounced hoping he would cook for them this weekend while Alfred was out of town, so he was in the little corner store in Crime Alley that always had the freshest fruit. Red Hood personally marked the place as off limits because it provided food for half the alley.

As he searched the shelves for what he needed he was surprised to hear a midwest accent in the next aisle. It was rare enough that out of towners moved to Gotham, much less moved into Crime Alley. A quick glance, caught between the shelves, showed him exactly why this person had come to Gotham.

In the next aisle was a tall red head, with a young child holding her hand. Jason would be a fool and a liar if he said she wasn’t beautiful, but it was clear she wouldn’t be in the mood for any flirting. Her flaming red hair was messily and crookedly cut short, like she had done it herself in a truckstop bathroom. She had a split lip and a black eye, and wore long sleeves that fully covered the rest of her body, and if they way she winced and flinched said anything, hid many more bruises.

Even the little boy she had with her was covered in injuries. He had his own black eye, and what looked like a fucking handprint on his fucking throat. He also shook slightly and seemed terrified of being out in public if the comforting whispers of his mother were anything to go by. Jason’s rage at the kid’s injuries wasn’t helped by the fact that he looked like adoption bait.

Jason had to force himself to leave as the green filled his vision. He doubted a mother and her toddler who recently escaped whatever hell they had come from would be receptive to a guy his height and size confronting them in the grocery store. More than that, he needed to get a firm handle on his anger before he spoke to them so he didn’t scare them off. They were in Red Hood’s turf now and they needed to know he would protect them.

He found them later that week when he was out as Red Hood. He had already used his information network to find which apartment building they were living in and waited for them on a neighboring stoop in his armor and helmet. Still creepy, and he wouldn’t blame them at all for being afraid of him, but he had to at least offer them his protection.

“Danny, we’ve only got a little farther to go, then we’ll be safe at home and we can have dinner, ok?” Jason would recognize that midwest accent anywhere.

He kept his body loose and relaxed as they approached so he didn’t startle them. Little Danny looked like he was barely keeping on his feet, except his mom’s arms were full with bags. He gave her a small wave when she passed, still plenty of room between him and them, so they wouldn’t be afraid of him grabbing one of them.

“It's not everyday someone new moves into the neighborhood.” Jason said, his voice coming out softer and monotone with his helmet’s modulator.

The woman stiffened and put herself between him and Danny, not that Jason would ever allow a child to be hurt in his presence, but he didn’t begrudge her the action. He kept himself relaxed against the stairs. He waited a moment for her to reply, but didn’t hold his breath.

“You’re in Crime Alley now, this is Red Hood turf.” Jason said. “I make sure people who live here are as safe as they can be. If anyone ever messes with you, or the little one, you tell me or one of my guys, and I’ll make sure they don’t do it again. And if you ever, ever need anything to make your stay safer or more comfortable, reach out. I take care of my own.”

His message passed on, he looked away, willing to let her return to her home without any word from her. However his attention snapped back to the pair as Danny stepped away from his mother closer to him. He kneeled down to be at the kid’s level as Danny reached up towards his helmet.

“Danny!” His mom hissed, panic in her voice, but that didn’t stop the kid from approaching.

The kid tapped his hands on Jason’s Red Hood helmet curiously as he looked at him with wide eyes. Jason stayed absolutely still, though he could see the boy’s mother relaxing minutely.

“You protect?” The kid said, nearly breaking Jason’s poor dead heart.

“Yeah, buddy, I protect.” Jason said, even as something inside him seemed to sing. He slowly reached into one of the pockets on the front of his vest and pulled out a Wonder Woman sticker that he handed over to the kid. There wasn’t much Red Hood merch on the market, more’s the shame.

Danny returned to his mom’s side to show her the sticker with a wide smile on his face. His mom shot him a small smile, clearly relieved to have her son back by her side. She also gave Jason a thoughtful look.

“My name’s Jazz. Jazz Nightingale. Thanks for the welcome.” She said.

Jason gave her a nod and let her go on her way. Maybe once she knew him better and trusted him more he would offer to help her carry her groceries, but for now he let her go with her son to her apartment and disappear within.

Tim was crouching on a rooftop a month later the first time he saw Jazz and Danny. He didn’t know their names, all he knew was a mom and her kid were walking alone late at night in a bad part of town. He kept a silent watch over them from the top of a nearby building. It had been a slow night and the major players were all either in Arkham or licking their wounds and preparing for their next big show, so Tim felt he could forgive himself for paying extra attention to this one small family.

He was worried because they were in Crime Alley, it was even riskier for the pair to be traveling, and it was risky for Tim to be here. While things were better with Jason and the family he still took offense any time any of the Bats wandered into his turf without his permission. He really wanted to get through tonight without getting shot, he didn’t think this calm would last and he needed to be ready to help the family when things inevitably went wrong.

The small family moved quickly down the street, the mom keeping a close eye out. She actually noticed the first thug before even Tim with his height advantage did. The big guy, clearly not actually from the Alley, moved in front of them, forcing her to deviate course. Unfortunately she didn’t see the second thug Tim could see, who moved behind to close off her escape. They were herding her into a narrow alley where they could act unhindered.

He prepared himself to swoop into the alley to intervene, except the little boy grabbed his mom’s hand and they both vanished before his eyes. He didn’t have any time to look for where they had vanished to, or to try other filters built into his domino when the two thugs entered the alley and loudly began exclaiming their confusion and annoyance that their quarry had vanished. Tim couldn’t find it in him to feel bad for them.

Tim was just debating whether it would be worth it to still drop into the alley and remind the thugs about proper behavior or if he was just asking to get hurt now that the victim had escaped, when he heard the sound of a kicked can. The thugs were complaining too loudly to hear the noise, but Tim followed along the alley from the rooftop until he reached the other street.

There he saw the pair reappear just as suddenly as they had disappeared. Except the boy collapsed down to his knees, almost dragging his mom down with him. She lifted him into her arms, and in a feat of strength that could only be from the adrenaline fueled desperation of a mother, ran down the street with him in her arms, seemingly desperate to get him home.

Tim once again considered following to make sure they were home safe, or to investigate them more, but he could see some of Hood’s lieutenants down the street, they would make sure she was safe, and they were even more likely to take a shot at him than Jason was. He thinks the lieutenants had some kind of personal scoreboard on hitting members of the family.

Instead of following, Tim leaned back and let his hand rise to his comm.

“Confirming the presence of a new meta in Gotham.” He said, interrupting the family’s chatter.

“Powers?” Bruce said, even his questions sounded like an order.

“Short interval invisibility.” That was the only power that made sense with what he had seen.

“Do one of us need to make contact?” Bruce asked.

Make contact was such a polite way to refer to Bruce’s usual tactic. Research and investigate every possible connection a person had, lay their entire history bare. Anything that could be exploited by the criminal element of the city was brought to the forefront during a face to face confrontation. Then a list of contingencies in case they joined that criminal element, willingly or not. In theory it was all for the protection of the meta. With people like Scarecrow, Ivy, and Joker who were more than willing to use mind controlling or altering substances to get what they want, and the mobs and gangs who had much more violent methods of control or influence, it was easy to see how on paper, this was for the best for everyone.

In practice however, it gave Batman a reputation for hating metas, and violently expelling them from his city. When the meta already had a desire to commit crimes, they just became a problem for some other hero, when they didn’t they became terrified that they would be beaten if they stayed. Duke had sat down each member of the family and coached how it looked and felt to him as a meta, and how to use better methods rather than a blanket hammer. He had tried multiple times to break Bruce of the habit, but even Alfred couldn’t break Bruce of his paranoia.

“No. They made it less than sixty feet and almost collapsed. I don’t think they are a concern to the safety of the city.” Tim declared.

Normally he was just as paranoid as Bruce, and just as quick to judge, but a kid desperately trying to protect his mother at the cost of his own health was no risk to the city. Any mob or criminal wouldn’t even get any use out of the kid’s abilities. There was no reason to turn someone’s life upside down for no reason. Especially when they were clearly living in Crime Alley for a reason.

“Hm.” Tim could feel Bruce’s disapproval in his voice, but he wouldn’t voice it over the comms. “Description?”

Tim rolled his eyes. And here was the worst part of his paranoia. He couldn’t trust his own family, so he was going to keep an eye on the family even if everyone else agreed not to bother them. Still it was better to give Bruce a little before he lost his mind and started stalking people, again.

“Looked like a mom and child. Mom was tall with short red hair, kid looked like adoption bait and seemed sickly. They’re not a threat B.”

“What the fuck are you doing so close to Crime Alley, Replacement?!” Jason’s voice interrupted before Bruce could demand further information. Tim started in surprise, he wasn’t even aware Jason was listening in.

“Are these people known to you, Red Hood?” Bruce growled.

“Yeah the fuck they are. They are under my protection and you will leave them the fuck alone or the next cape that crosses into my turf is going to get pumped full of holes!” Jason snapped into the comm before immediately dropping off the line.

Tim wisely decided to move on and patrol another section of the city, he had no desire to get between Jason and Bruce when they were like this.

There were a lot of strange things that were unique to Gotham that Duke had noticed. A single mom and her kid wouldn’t usually hold too much of his attention, except when they were connected to one of the other weird things.

Ever since Duke’s powers developed, he started to notice small green blobs in the air. They didn’t let anyone get too close, and no one else seemed to notice them. And they were so rare at first that he had thought that it was just his powers tripping up, especially since he had never seen them outside of Gotham at first. It wasn’t until the first time he saw one outside of the city that he realized what they were, and where they came from.

Ghosts. Or something like that. They formed in old battle grounds and cemeteries. When he joined the family he brought it up and they had an investigation that eventually required them bring in members of Justice League Dark. They were the energy of death, wrapped in the emotions of the dying, and operated solely on instinct. No intelligence to speak of. Not a threat, better to just ignore them, they had been told.

Duke wasn’t certain he believed the dismissive tone of John Constantine who had to cast spells in order to even see the little green blobs. He didn’t watch the blobs form little swarms or schools, almost like fish, or the way they froze and shook when held by his spells then fled immediately once they were free. So he kept an eye on the little green blobs, and just like with any metas in the city kept any changes on them to himself.

One day while he was watching over Gotham’s day shift from one of the local towers, he noticed that there was a larger than normal cloud of blobs about. He was worried that there had been a new serial killer around and that was why there were more blobs. Then a beacon split the sky, like the Bat signal an emerald beam of light flashed out from Robinson Park.

None of the people reacted to the beacon, so Duke didn’t think there was a new supervillain attack, however all of the local blobs started to excitedly swim and fly towards the parks. It reminded him of the koi in Alfred’s pond following after Damian when he brought out the feed bag. Curious, but not too concerned, Duke followed the blobs into the park towards where the beacon had disappeared.

Most of the blobs have disappeared, but a few are trailing behind by the time he gets to the park. They lead him to a sheltered area, hidden by enormous roots that Ivy had grown the last time she was free, and safe there among the trees was a young woman with short cropped red hair, though it looked like her hair had grown out since Tim had last seen her and a little boy who would have looked right at home at the Wayne family dinner. He could only be the same meta kid that Jason was protecting that Bruce had been struggling to find any information on in the last four months.

To Duke’s vision, the kid had a glowing green aura, which wasn’t so unusual, most metas had some kind of glowing aura, what was strange was that the kid’s aura almost seemed to be restrained. There were sections that were brighter and striated sections that were dimmer, like the bars on a cage. He hated to see a young kid in a cage, even if it was some kind of meta aura cage.

Especially because the kid looked so happy. He was dancing and laughing with the blobs as they floated and swam around him. They darted in and out of the bright patches of his aura like ducks in a bird bath, Bruce could shove his uptight anti meta rules up his cape, this kid wasn’t causing any problems.

Duke stepped a little closer into the clearing and the boy’s mom gasped and whirled around. She grabbed her son’s shoulders and held him tight, fear clear on her face. They looked like they were about to bolt, and even though he was a Bat he didn’t want to terrorize them.

He leaned back against one of the trees and called a small ball of light to his hand. He tossed the ball hand to hand for a moment before he started on his usual routine to help kids feel more relaxed. He had gotten really good at yo-yoing once to win a bet with Dick and he started yoing the little light ball up and down, and making it walk the dog and other silly little tricks.

The kid watched him with wide eyes before calling a little bit of green light to his hands and trying to recreate the tricks. Duke smiled and showed him the trick again slower, drawing the kid closer. His mom stayed close, keeping a wary eye on both him and her son. Duke smiled at both of them.

“I know some of the other Bats aren’t chill with metas, but you don’t have to worry about me.” Duke said softly, still showing his tricks off. “I’m just like you, I’ve been where you are, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ok?”

The kid smiled back at him, and kept trying to mimic Duke’s powers with his little green balls of light. Eventually the kid’s mom gave him a little smile too.

“Thanks Signal, I appreciate what you do.”

Duke shot her a wider smile and spent the next couple of minutes playing light tag with the kid until he had to leave.

Cass and Steph met Jazz and Danny during a city wide riot six months later. A prison convoy from Arkham to Black Gate was interrupted, with all the prisoners getting free and fleeing into the city. Three bus loads of convicts decided to make the city into their personal playground. There were multiple fires spread across the city and the full extended Bat family was out trying to put out the fires, recapture the escapees, and protect the people of Gotham.

The two Batgirls were working together in one of the worse hit neighborhoods. Cass as the best fighter in the family was quick to knock out and restrain those taking advantage of the trouble and the escapees. Steph was quick to comfort any victims and direct them towards the shelters set up across the city. They had both been fighting and flying across the city for hours and were exhausted, when they heard shouting from the next street over.

“Quickly! Follow me!” A feminine voice shouted.

“Hey, you bitch! I’m going to fuc-”

*CLANG*

They glanced at each other then dashed across the roof and jumped over the alley onto the next building. Steph got to the far roof edge first to look down and see a tall redhead, with her hair tightly tied back away from her face, waving an elderly couple into the opposite alleyway. She had a green painted bat in her hand and there was an unconscious thug in the street. It didn’t take two vigilantes trained by the “World’s Greatest Detective” to piece together what had happened. They watched as the couple disappeared into the alleyway and were about to move on when they heard someone call out for them.

“Hey! Down here!” The red head shouted, waving up at them. “I need your help!”

While they had just seen she could handle a thug by herself they still swooped down to meet her on the street level. Up close they could both see just how fit she was. She was easily as tall as an Amazon and built like a gymnast. Her muscular arms were on display in her short sleeve shirt. Cass couldn’t help a raised eyebrow at how Steph checked out her body up and down, her girlfriend was so predictable in her tastes.

“We’ve got several injured inside, they need more care than I can provide and Danny told me that there is a big crowd of thugs heading our way, I don’t think I can keep them all out on my own.”

With the name Danny, they now knew this woman was the mysterious Jazz. Duke had told them about his encounter with the mother and child in their Bruce-free chat. After that Tim and Jason had weighed in, though they both insisted, and Duke agreed that they weren’t a threat and should be left alone. None of the bat kids felt that the small family deserved to have Batman haunting their lives.

Jazz led the two into the alley and past a broken door into one of the buildings. They found most of the surrounding neighbors sheltering there. There were older folks, people who were sick or injured and a bunch of the local street kids all huddled together. Steph immediately put her in progress nursing degree to use to start treating those who were injured while Cass stayed near the door with Jazz.

“Here’s more” A young voice called right before Danny the meta boy swooped in, hovering a few feet off the ground, a couple of street kids followed right behind him. Jazz opened her arms and the little boy flew into her embrace. Cass was relieved to see Jazz checking over Danny for injuries but she was surprised the incredibly protective mother let her son out of her sight during the crisis.

“Are there any more people in danger?” Jazz asked, her voice tight, but her little boy shook his head. “Ok, I want you to stay here.”

“But bad guys coming!” Danny protested, his eyes glowing green. He looked like he wanted to float out of her arms, but she kept a tight hold on him.

“That’s why I need you to stay here. You need to protect Spoiler, OK?” Jazz said, gesturing to where Steph was wrapping a bleeding wound. “She’s helping the hurt people and you have to keep her safe!”

Danny gave as serious a nod as a toddler could. Steph waved the little boy over and he floated through the air to her side. Cass arched an eyebrow as Jazz’s shoulders dropped in relief. Apparently the little kid was doing much better than Jason, Tim or Duke reported. Though she was surprised his powers had developed so quickly, going from barely able to maintain invisibility for a block to effortlessly floating in the air.

However before either Batgirl could question that interaction the sound of approaching shouting drew their attention. Jazz and Cass stepped out of the hiding hole and snuck to the mouth of the alley. The escaped convicts had apparently assembled something of a mob as they pushed through the city. The two women could possibly stay hidden and let the riot go past, but Cass itched at the idea of letting these criminals go. If anyone was harmed by them after she let them go, that guilt would eat at her.

Jazz looked the crowd over closely, then turned to give Cass a careful look over. Cass could see Jazz examining her just as Cass often did to others. Eventually Jazz nodded and marched to the mouth of the alley, smacking her bat against a drain pipe.

“Hey you fucks!” She shouted, catching the attention of the mob. “Why don’t you try me on for size?”

Cass grinned under her mask, and she could feel an almost magnetic pull towards Jazz. She examined the approaching thugs with keen eyes, and could see how they all focused on Jazz and ignored her. She presumed Jazz was also some kind of meta, though still not worth bringing Batman’s particular brand of invasive investigations into her life.

Jazz funneled the mob into the narrow mouth of the alley so they could only approach her two or three at a time. Cass stayed right behind her, ensuring no one could catch her backside. She thinned the numbers with precise Batarangs and bolos and stepped forward to cover if Jazz tripped or needed a moment to catch her breath.

Cass examined Jazz’s fight style using her own unique skill with reading body language as the two worked their way through the mob. Her fighting style was an eclectic mix. She had the foundations of someone who was trained by an expert, though most of the improvements on that foundation seemed to be largely self taught. What was the most interesting was the roughness of a self-taught fighter was polished into a style that almost matched that of the Amazons of Themyscira.

The two women finished knocking out the last thug, leaving the pile unconscious and groaning. They turned to see Danny smiling at his mom, and Steph smiling for a completely different reason. Cass rolled her eyes at her girlfriend, before giving her a small nod. Danny flew to Jazz’s arms and gave her a tight hug. Steph walked up as well and threw her arm over Cass’s shoulder.

“Hey, my girlfriend and I saw you from across the bar, and we really liked your vibe.” Steph said, with a coy smile.

“Are you really flirting with me in costume?” Jazz asked, though she didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah, is it working?”

Jazz gave them both a searching look, including running her eyes up and down their costumed forms. Cass noticed a red blush climb up Jazz’s cheeks to slightly pointed ears with a grin. Finally she hitched Danny up higher in her arms and gave them a nod.

“You have to know that Danny’s safety and happiness are always going to be my top priority.” When both of the bats nodded she continued. “But if you want to try…

Batman finally met the two metas more than a full year after they had arrived in Gotham. He knew multiple of his children had met them and were for some reason purposely keeping their whereabouts and information from him. He had searched for them on his own, but with the vague descriptions and his own children obfuscating the case, they just weren’t a high enough priority, though he hated having an unknown meta with unknown abilities in his city.

However when he found out that Orphan and Spoiler were apparently meeting the mom for clandestine rendezvous, the metas rose sharpley on his priority list. He still couldn't convince any of his children to tell him about them.

Red Robin had stayed stubbornly silent, even the threat of benching him did nothing except ensure he slept at his Nest for two weeks. Red Hood had threatened to go back to trying to kill the Bats if Bruce tried to push him. Signal had been furious, perhaps even angrier than Hood, when Bruce mentioned them to him.

“You claim this city as yours but it doesn't actually belong to you.” Signal had snapped. “It belongs to the people, and they deserve to live their lives without your interrogations.”

That left Batman no choice but to go behind their backs and search on his own. Trackers placed on their gear were ineffective and attempting to hack into the family group chat was only marginally less so. He tripped one of Oracle's alarms and got shut out immediately. No doubt any information was then immediately purged, and they had treated him with suspicion after that, ensuring he had to do the leg-work the more intensive way.

He had gone back to when Red Robin first reported the sighting of the pair of metas. He had followed Red’s patrol on cams and with the tracking data until he found the suspects on the street cameras. There were fewer cameras in Crime Alley, but eventually he was able to create a pattern from the pair’s movements and sightings on the cameras that did exist. Then he meticulously hacked into the records of the apartments in the Alley. He found a few other criminals hiding in Hood’s territory and flagged them in his system to ensure he could keep an eye on them. He did eventually find a pair who had moved in during a time that matched up with the profile he had created.

Then he did what he did best. He dug and he dug.

He found the Nightingales, Jasmine and Daniel. He determined quickly that their surname was falsified. He dug further and found a Jasmine Fenton who matched the profile he had created. He found it highly suspicious that Jasmine had a brother named Daniel who had been declared dead right before they had arrived in Gotham and no history of a pregnancy that could have resulted in her son. In a world with time travel, invading aliens and metas attacking in the city streets, a simple de-aging wasn’t that farfetched.

When he dug further into the Fentons he knew his suspicions were correct. The elder Fentons would have easily fit in with the rogues of Gotham. They were clearly mad-scientists, though their studies did inform him of a new threat to keep an eye on, and plenty of weapons to use as contingencies. Though they favored guns and blasters more than Batman thought was appropriate.

In one of their reports Batman was able to determine exactly where Daniel the younger had come from, and what exactly he was. An experiment on their own son deaged him and Jasmine took her brother and ran, claiming him as her son as they started their new life in Batman’s city.

If the elder Fentons were correct about even half the powers the two metas could have at their disposal then they were currently two of the biggest threats in Gotham, especially since they were manipulating his kids.

He compiled the information into a folio to give to the two most affected by Jasmine's manipulations, Orphan and Spoiler. He held them back after a long patrol when he knew their aggression against his arguments would be at its lowest. They were both exhausted, still in their uniforms.

Orphan refused to take the folio he tried to hand her. She just stared at him, her full face mask hiding any possible micro expressions. Spoiler took both folios from him and he thought for once she would be the voice of reason, except she then turned and tossed both of the folios into the dark abyss that bordered that section of the cave.

They left him standing there and by the time he entered the Manor proper they had departed. Batman stayed up late into the morning furious and on edge that the metas had managed to coax away his best fighter. Even with all of his contingencies he didn't believe he could defeat Orphan in a fight. Batman knew he would have to confront the threats personally and that he wouldn't be able to count on any assistance from his children.

The first thing he needed to do was ensure his kids, especially Orphan and Spoiler, wouldn’t be able to stop him. So he gave them orders that sent them all over the city, each would be busy until long after the metas were out of his city. Next on his list was to have the proper preparations. He used a series of shell companies to order a Fenton Ghost Collar which should contain Daniel’s powers. Just like he always carried Kryptonite on him as a worst case solution against Superman, he prepared a nuclear option, a single button primed to send a report to the Ghost Investigation Ward, to ensure that the threats would leave.

With all of the other Bats scattered to the winds, Batman silently slipped into the window in one of the bedrooms of the meta’s apartment. He landed next to a child’s bed and quickly slipped the collar from his belt; he needed to contain the meta threat before the kid could wake up. Just as he reached down, the door to the room burst open and Jasmine rushed in.

“Get away from him!” She shouted, a green glowing bat in her hand.

Batman stood between her and her supposed son, he hadn’t expected her to be able to hear him enter, but he would still get his point across.

“Hello Ms. Nightingale. Or should I say Ms. Fenton.” He growled at her. “You and your son are not welcome in my city.”

He watched her face pale in fear before she tightened her grip on the bat.

“You may be Bruce Wayne but even you don’t own the whole city.”

Batman let his eyes widen slightly. Of course she had manipulated Orphan and Spoiler into giving up the family’s secret identities, he should have realized, but two could play that game. He flicked the button into view.

“If I press this button, an automatic notification will be sent to the GIW bringing them here. You remember them right?” He was pleased to see her grip on the bat slacken as she stepped back, her breaths coming faster in her panic.

“You- you wouldn’t.” She took another breathless step back, almost falling against the boy’s bedroom wall. “They would come for everyone, Hood, Cass, Steph, there are so many people who would be in danger.” What was she talking about? His kids weren’t ghosts. “How could you support an organization that wants to commit genocide against an entire parallel realm?”

What.

“Oh daddy bats focusing too much on a perceived threat and ignoring the obvious implications. Who could have guessed?”

Batman spun on his heel to see Spoiler stepping out from the closet, Orphan right behind her. In Spoiler’s arms was none other than the meta, Daniel. He completed his turn to see the sleeping child in the bed melt away to nothing.

“Danny!” Jasmine ran to her son and scooped him up in her arms, Orphan immediately stepped in front of her, putting herself between the Batman and the metas.

“Do you think we’re stupid, Bruce?” Spoiler continued. “Do you think we didn’t see your stupid plan to try and confront Jazz and drive her out of the city a mile away?”

“She is controlling your mind.” Batman growled out, furious that his greatest secret was out in the open being bandied around.

“No she is not.” Batman wasn’t sure he could be more surprised when Martian Manhunter floated through the wall. “Neither of the Nightingales are exhibiting any form of mental manipulation I recognize.”

“Yeah, Bats, for someone who always likes to pretend to be the smartest in the room, you really stuck your dick in it this time.” John Constantine said as he walked into the room.

“We called back up. And unlike you we actually listened to the experts.” Spoiler continued as Batman scowled more and more. “At this moment, Babs and Tim are scrubbing your files of everything related to Jazz and Danny.”

Orphan stepped forward and signed aggressively. “We will protect Jazz and Danny, even from you.”

Batman looked around, surrounded on all sides by people who should be his allies, his subordinates, his soldiers and he did something rash. He pressed the button still in his hand.

He knew he shouldn't have even as soon as he pressed it. There were facts here he hadn't been aware of. He knew he could get tunnel vision before a perceived threat and this many people couldn't all be controlled.

Batman knew he had made an irreparable mistake as Jasmine wailed in despair and Orphan and Spoiler both stepped up as if to stop him. He knew it as Martian Manhunter flinched and Constantine scowled. He looked down at the button he had so carefully created, the nuclear option, and felt shame and guilt curl inside him.

“You really are predictable, B.” The heavily modulated voice of Red Hood was heard as the man himself climbed into the room from the window. “Oracle wiped that thing out as soon as you had created it, we won’t let those scum get called here.”

Jasmine sobbed in relief, holding Daniel tight to her chest. Oracle and Spoiler wrapped her their arms, Daniel happily babbling to the three women, now that they were relieved. Red Hood pressed forward, pushing Batman back away from the small family. Constantine and Manhunter approached as well.

“Come on Bats, let’s have a conversation on the Watchtower. Wonder Woman and the Boyscout have some words for you on knowing about an organization like this and not bringing up to League attention.” Constantine muttered as the two escorted him from the room.

Batman glanced back at the metas, at Jasmine and Daniel, at the tears in her eyes and the way he held onto her as tightly as he could, at the loving way Steph looked at them and the glare in Cass’s eye directed at himself. He let the others lead him away without a fuss.

Jazz reflected on the chaotic last year and a half as she walked up the long drive to the manor that loomed down over her. In the past 18 months so much had happened. Her parents had caught Danny mid transformation and attacked him. She had managed to escape the basement with a heavily injured and rapidly shrinking Danny. They had run from the GIW, moving constantly until they found themselves in the most crime ridden city in the US if not the world, Gotham.

She had been terrified and basically alone in the city, with only Danny who was now for whatever reason an actual toddler. He didn’t remember anything from before, and his powers were wildly out of control and hurt him to use them. She felt the only place she could feel safe with Danny was in Crime Alley, where no one would rat them out to government goons.

Running into Red Hood had been a miracle, a terrifying miracle but a miracle nonetheless. He offered her protection and what help he could provide. When Jazz saw a few GIW agents sniffing around, she told one of Hood’s lieutenants and the Red Hood Gang targeted the agents with extreme prejudice whenever they were sighted in the city. For once she felt like she could actually relax and focus on raising Danny.

The rest of the vigilantes in the city were strange. She was passingly aware of one of the Robins keeping an eye on her as she made her way through the city on occasion. It seemed like most of the rest avoided Red Hood’s territory, which was a relief. She didn’t need anyone else aware of what Danny could do.

Meeting Signal had been nice. He was kind and had played with Danny and showed him some training exercises to help him practice his powers in a safe way. If he assumed incorrectly that Danny was a meta instead of a ghost, then that wasn’t her business. By that point, Danny’s powers were starting to recover, and he was finally healed from what Jack and Maddie had done to him, though he didn’t return to his previous age.

Jazz had been in the midst of a panic attack while Danny napped, terrified that she wouldn’t be a good enough mother for her brother, when time had frozen around her. Clockwork himself appeared. She wanted to rage at the Time Ghost, she wanted to scream and hit him and see how he enjoyed experiencing everything Danny had gone through at the hands of her former parents. It was the palpable grief in his expression that stayed her hand. He mourned Danny’s loss, and the childhood Jazz had sacrificed not once but twice to raise him.

Clockwork said that Observants had bound him and prevented him from interfering and it had taken until now to be able to assist. He couldn’t undo what had happened to Danny without him experiencing all the pain afresh. But the two of them could take this as an opportunity. He had every confidence in Jazz’s ability to raise Danny to his full potential. As King. His full potential as High King of Ghosts.

Jazz politely asked to schedule another Time-Out for that evening to freak out properly about that.

As the person raising Phantom, even if Danny couldn’t take on his ghost form at this time, that gave Jazz power and privileges. She was effectively the Queen Regent until Danny was able to take the crown for his own. She couldn’t make too many decrees as Regent, other than for the protection of the King, nor could she be challenged for the crown.

The first decree she made as Regent was for the Observant Council to be punished for their interference, which allowed the King to come to harm. Fright Knight personally oversaw their punishment; his fury at the harm to his King was extraordinary. Eventually they would be able to return to their duties, monitoring the time stream and recording the history of the cosmos, their ability to restrain Clockwork significantly reduced.

The spectral crown that now hovered invisibly over her head as a sign of her Regency granted her some additional benefits as well. The crown had its own aura of pure ectoplasm, allowing Danny to heal faster and for his powers to recover almost back to what they were, which presented its own challenges considering he was still a child. Fortunately as Regent she was able to restrain his more explosive powers, like his Wail, though she promised him that she would allow him to protect her if he needed to.

The flood of pure ectoplasm also enhanced Jazz’s own liminal powers and abilities. She was stronger, faster and had enhanced senses. Not quite Superman level, but well above any baseline human. Which certainly helped when she needed to defend herself. Her latent empathic abilities were now incredibly powerful, she could read the intentions and emotions of those around her as well as manipulate them to a degree, either drawing their attention to her, or forcing them to ignore her, both of which were very useful for a Queen Regent with a young king.

In addition to healing Danny and boosting Jazz’s powers, it also seemed to filter the ambient ectoplasm in the air, which led to Red Hood’s territory feeling a lot less bitter and angry. Honestly the whole city of Gotham seemed less smog filled and hostile after a few months of living there as Regent. Once Danny was older she would have to investigate why that was, she presumed a city like this was cursed up to the sky scrapers, and maybe the crown helped clear some of those curses out?

If Jazz was being honest with herself, running into Cass and Steph in costume as Orphan and Spoiler, had been a life saver, an absolute life saver. They saved not just her life but Danny’s as well.

Of course, on the day of the riot Stephanie’s help with the injured folks they had recovered was invaluable. And Cass’s help with fighting the rioters saved her very directly, though she always could have called on Fright Knight to take care of things.

She would have much rather sheltered in their little apartment until the riot was over. The problem was that along with Danny’s reemerging powers, came his reemerging obsessions. She had painted the ceiling for the whole apartment with different space themes, including an accurate map of the night sky. She had borrowed almost every book in the Gotham Library on space at some point and had them reserved months out.

However his protection obsession was more difficult to sate. She managed to focus it most of the time toward him keeping her safe, but during the riot so many people were in danger and hurting that it would have torn him apart to ignore all the calls for help he could feel. Just like he could feel the exact positions of the stars day or night, he could feel every person who needed help around them.

Jazz had mobilized as well as she was able. She ordered the local blob ghosts to find her a place where she could bring people who were hurt or in danger and ordered Fright Knight to follow Danny invisibly as he sought out the people to bring to the safe house. Unfortunately, despite her skills with patching Danny back together after fights, she was still only one person and couldn't treat those Danny brought to her and keep them safe at the same time, so the two bats showing up was a huge relief.

Their help after the riot was what made them lifesavers and she didn’t mean just the dates, though they were nice. She hadn’t expected the two very attractive heroes to flirt with her, any more than she expected to take them up on it, but it was nice to have someone in the city who had her back. Of course the dates and… dates… were very nice. Especially the… dates… with both Cass and Steph at the same time. That was an especially mind-blowing night the first time.

Predicting and intercepting Bruce’s paranoia had been a huge help, delaying him in his pursuit of her and Danny. And then when they couldn’t delay him any more, they were there to stop him from hurting Danny. She had been furious at first that they hadn’t told her about convincing her son to create a sleeping clone to distract Bruce, but they had taken her words when they first met as Law. Danny’s safety and happiness was her first priority, even over her own mental health.

With the two girls and Cass’s siblings working together they stopped anything bad from happening that night. Then they set to work. A reporter from Metropolis, Lois Lane, started releasing articles roasting the GIW and the lawmakers that allowed the law through. Jack and Maddie were arrested and their designs and weapons seized by the Justice League. Young Justice and the Teen Titans made a competition of hunting down the GIW agents once the laws were revoked. So far YJ had the lead, but the Titans were planning a raid on a GIW facility that would even the score.

Jazz had even been able to make a deal in the following month as Regent with Constantine that had him and the other JL magic users going after Vlad. He was arrested and tried for his crimes against Danny, bound to his human form and unable to create duplicates. Then he was tried for his even more numerous corporate crimes. In the end he was imprisoned, penniless and destitute. Once Danny was King he would have the authority to collect the various pieces of the Laughing Magicians soul so he wouldn’t spend eternity getting torn apart.

Now with the ghost hunters taken care of, and the ghosts safe once again, it was time to meet the rest of Cass’s family. She had Danny on her hip as she walked up to the massive manor, and Jazz couldn’t help but feel trepidation. This was more than meeting her girlfriends’ family, which would have been scary enough on its own. This was meeting her girlfriends’ family and that family was the defenders of the city. The defenders who had worked to make her and Danny so much safer than they had been basically… ever. Certainly safer than they had been growing up under the roof of Fentonworks.

She took a deep breath and held onto Danny just a little tighter. Danny giggled and squirmed a little in her grasp and she set him on the ground before knocking on the door. The door opened immediately as Alfred had been waiting for them.

“Grampy!” Danny squealed and ran forward to hug Alfred’s legs. He was still a little too young to understand the difference between a grandpa (Bruce) and a great-grandpa (Alfred) so he had given Cass’s grandfather that name. Fortunately Cass and Steph had already ensured that Bruce would be away from the Manor for the day. Jazz couldn’t help the blush that rose in her cheeks at Danny assuming her girlfriend’s grandfather was also his grandfather. Maybe one day.

“Ah, hello young master.” Alfred said with a small smile. Cass had insisted that she and Danny meet Alfred before they met the rest of the family. Even though he tried to hide behind his mask of professionalism, Jazz could see that Alfred was deeply touched by Danny’s excitement. “And hello to you Ms. Jazz. Please come in, the family is waiting for you in the media room.”

“Hello, Alfred.” Jazz said with a smile, as she followed him into the manor. Danny excitedly jogged alongside Alfred’s longer strides. He quickly out paced the older man as he took to the air, practically vibrating with excitement as he flew.

“Cass!!” Danny screamed as he rocketed into the media room and tackled Jazz’s girlfriend.

Cass had a brilliant smile that made Jazz’s heart race as she held Danny and peppered his head and cheeks with kisses. Jazz stepped up to her girlfriend and gave her a kiss on the cheek of her own. Steph jumped up out of her seat and ran to squeeze Jazz against Cass’s shoulder and both women turned and gave Jazz simultaneous cheek kisses while Danny laughed his little head off as his two favorite ladies and his mom were around him.

“Well you two! Are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?” A cheery voice called from one of the couches.

The rest of her girlfriends’ family were scattered around the media room. Jazz recognized them all just by description. Dick was the one who had stood up and spoke out. Sitting on one of the couches was Jason, Red Hood, out of costume and shooting them a small smile. Tim who had watched over them and destroyed Bruce’s files on them. Damian scowled with his arms crossed even as he stepped up behind Dick to introduce himself next. Duke was there, once again playing with a little ball of light. Barbara turned her wheelchair around so she could smile at them as well.

This was her girlfriends’ family, the protectors of Gotham City. Jazz smiled and wiped a few tears from her eyes at how happy she was and Danny was literally glowing with unrestrained joy.

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avoxrising · 5 months

Text

The Feral One • Ch 26

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

A second chapter today as promised

Content Warnings - injury, surgery, mention of psych eval

An hour feels like forever as you watch the one you love slowly fade away. You’re passed out again by the time Peeta returns with a medic.

“I could only find one,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. “There were a lot of injuries due to the bombs.”

The medic kneels down to take a look at you. Your blood was still black, worrying the entire group.

“Please,” Finnick pleads. “You have to help her.”

“There aren’t enough of us right now to handle this,” the medic shakes their head. “Half of our unit died to the bombs this morning.”

“Can you radio for someone? Anyone?” Finnick asks.

The medic was able to call for an armored vehicle to come pick you up. They didn’t have any medical supplies but they could drive you to the hospital.

Finnick holds your limp hand the whole way, refusing to let you leave him.

It’s been 12 hours with no news. The doctors immediately rushed you into surgery when you arrived, not even letting Finnick come with you.

Finnick sat alone in the waiting room of the hospital. Peeta had been taken in for a psych eval and Katniss was in the ICU. Boggs was dead, the Leegs were dead, Prim was dead… (Gale was unfortunately not dead)

A gloomy aura hung over the capital that day. The rebels had won but at a high cost. Finnick didn’t know what he would do with himself if you didn’t make it.

“Finnick,” someone states as they nudge his shoulder. The blond looks up to see Johanna in front of him.

“Jo…” he replies. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard what happened…,” she starts. “I needed to be here. They flew me out from thirteen.”

“Thank you,” Finnick hums as his friend sits beside him.

The two of them sit in silence for hours, Finnick periodically dozing off in his chair.

Johanna nudges him awake when the doctor comes out.

“She made it through surgery,” the doctor states, causing the victors to let out a sigh of relief. “She’s in a medically induced coma for the time being. She’ll need to have another operation in a week to remove the mass in her brain.”

“What mass?” Finnick asks.

“The timer…” Johanna mutters.

“We don’t know exactly what it is,” the doctor explains. “We do, however, believe that it’s the cause of her sudden illness. The doctors are in contact with Mr. Latier to devise a safe plan of removal.”

“Can we see her?” Finnick asks.

“I’m afraid she’s in a quarantine until her immune system rebuilds strength,” the doctor responds. “We need to check you for injuries but after I can set up some chairs outside her room for you.”

Physically, Finnick was fine. The doctors gave him some fluids and treated some cuts but released him soon after.

He wanted to help you in any way he could. The hospital was running short on blood so he donated some. Unfortunately it couldn’t go to you but Johanna’s blood was able to.

The doctors did a full body scan on Johanna and determined she was clear of any capital additions, meaning she could donate blood and tissue to you. She spent every moment with Finnick, only leaving to grab him some food.

Mags and Annie called daily from 13 but weren’t able to come to the capital yet. District 13 was working on assigning the victors places to stay in the capital until Snow’s execution but they weren’t ready. There was still a lot of cleanup to do.

Beetee flew in two days before your scheduled surgery. He showed Finnick and Johanna the brain scans and explained in technical terms how they were going to extract it without triggering any reactions.

“My hacking abilities allowed me to gain access to the experiment database of the capital’s military lab,” he explains. “A similar experiment was done on some rats around 60 years ago. Luckily we do not believe removing it will cause any further damage to her system.”

“What was it designed to do?” Johanna asks.

“I believe the experiment was designed to trigger a rabies-like reaction in the subject; resulting in their death. However, I hypothesize that the process did not complete itself in her due to the amount of blood she lost. The reaction is transported via the bloodstream so it ceased when there wasn’t enough blood left to continue it,” he explains. “She’s lucky she got here when she did. The doctors told me they’ve never seen someone that low on blood survive for that long. I’m optimistic that once we gain access to the medical equipment in the military hospital she will heal fairly quickly.”

“Thank you,” Finnick responds.

“We’re victors,” Beetee states. “We look out for each other.”

Taglist:

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #mockingjay part 2 #the feral one #avoxrising

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ladykailitha · 2 months

Text

The Harrington Pattern Part 11

The second one for today.

There is a joust, a wild Eddie shows off his mating dance, and Steve and Jeff plot a romance.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED

****

Steve sat on the edge of his seat as he cheered each successful strike the Black Knight made and winced with every hit he took.

The kids were loudly shouting and cheering and even Nancy would leap to her feet when the Black Knight won a match.

It was down to the final match. The Black Knight verses the White Lion. They were two points each. Final run.

The horses pawed at the ground. The knights shifted in their armor as they tried to settle the joints. Every person in that stadium was on the edge of their seat, leaning forward as they held their collective breath.

The man stepped forward with the flag and eyed each knight nervously. He looked up at the king and queen. The king nodded giving his consent. The flag dropped and the man leapt out of the way.

The horses raced down the line as the knights lowered their lances. The audience slowly rose to their feet as the horses thundered toward each other.

No one had yet taken a single breath.

Then...

CLASH!

And the White Lion flew to the ground as his horse made it to the other side of the arena. His squire grabbed the horses reins to stop it from running away.

The whole crowd erupted, the breath finally released in shouts of exultation.

The Black Knight and his squire were at their other end of field, whooping and hollering as they celebrated his win.

Steve and Robin grabbed each other and jumped up and down. They hadn’t seen anything so exciting since Lucas made the final shot of the game.

And it appeared that the boy in question thought the same as he kept screaming “YES!!”

The Black Knight took off his helmet and waved at the crowd. And their entire row let out a gasp.

“Jeff?” Dustin squealed. “Jeff was the Black Knight all along? That is so awesome!”

Now Lucas was completely flipping out. No one could deny that Jeff had won fair and square. That he had the superior skill.

Steve looked over at the king and queen. Neither one of them looked happy to see it had been Jeff the whole time. But they appeared gracious enough when they were handing out the prizes.

Steve was cheering and screaming right along with the rest of them. And it was a cool surprise. Who would have thought that Jeff played his favorite sport.

After the award ceremony they were allowed to go see Jeff at the stable.

Steve looked around when he entered. Jeff caught his eye and grinned. They both knew who he was looking for.

“He’s getting ready,” Jeff said with a wink. “You’ll just not want to miss the next event.”

Steve bit his lip and nodded. Whatever it was, he knew it was going to be amazing. He just wished he had more of an idea of what it was. He looked out at the arena floor and saw that the long wooden partition for the joust had been taken down and workers were quickly putting up... what, Steve wasn’t sure.

“Just let me get out of this armor,” Jeff was saying, “and I’ll join you guys in the stands.”

As they walked back to the stands, Robin pulled out her flier of the day’s events and Steve looked over her shoulder.

“What’s trick riding?” he mumbled.

But she just shrugged. She didn’t know either.

They sat up in the stands and they talked among themselves as the workers finished up what they were doing.

The field was mostly empty except a small platform where the rider would mount their horse.

There were two horses, both black with weird looking saddles.

The announcer got up and bellowed into a megaphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted. “For the first time ever here at the Hawkins Renaissance Fair we have Hawkins own Eddie Munson trick riding extraordinaire.”

Eddie stepped out onto the field but gone were the puffy sleeves and thigh high boots. His costume was tight fitting and boots were soft soled. It still looked period, but it was clearly designed from modern materials which would make it easier to move in.

Strapped to his back was a lute, the same lute he had been carrying all week.

He mounted the platform and waved to the crowd.

Eddie got on to the first horse and got it into motion. The other horse merely shook its mane as it waited patiently for its turn.

Eddie raised his feet and slipped them into a set of stirrups higher up on the saddle. Sending a wink Steve’s way, he stood up on the horse and began to play.

He began singing. Horribly. Eddie was a fine enough singer for their band, but it seemed to Steve he was deliberately off key as he sang ribald bar tunes.

He slipped a harness over his head and around his waist. Then to shock of the crowd, slid off the side of the horse. Steve was on his feet, so sure that Eddie would be crushed under the thundering hooves the galloping horse.

But as the horse turned, Steve could see that Eddie was safe and still playing.

His caterwauling got progressively worse the more dangerous the stunt was. Almost as if he was signaling to the audience that he was safe.

He made it back to the platform where he handed the lute off to someone who had stepped out onto the field for the reason. They removed the saddle off the one horse Eddie had been riding and he straddled both horses, one foot on each.

And off he went racing around the arena.

Steve was sure that his heart had stopped several times, once with every trick Eddie did.

He was also pretty sure that wasn’t good for it.

But Eddie landed every trick like a pro and at the end he hopped off the platform with a jaunty wave and a deep bow.

Steve was cheering up and down as the crowd around him erupted with applause.

Eddie bowed again and with the other guy that had taken his lute, lead the horses away.

Steve isn’t sure who was more impressed by Eddie’s riding the kids or Nancy. Her jaw had dropped from the first trick and remained that way all throughout Eddie’s riding.

“Where did he learn that?” she asked.

Jeff grinned. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Everyone exchanged glances as the whole gaggle followed Jeff back to the stable where Eddie and the other guy were brushing down the horses Eddie had used in his show.

The man, who on closer inspection was a teenage old boy spotted Jeff and waved. “Jeffrey! You did great out there today. Mom hasn’t stopped gushing about it.”

The Party turned to Jeff in shock. But he just chuckled.

“Guys,” he said, “this is my little brother Ollie. Ollie, you remember Gareth and Brian, the boys are Hellfire, the girls kick ass, and the two guys are the brat wranglers.”

Jonathan and Steve shared a look before they chorused, “Hey!”

Eddie laughed, but did the proper introducing. When he got to Steve, Ollie’s eyes went wide and nodded.

“Steve Harrington,” Ollie said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve frowned. “From Jeff?” he asked, confused.

“No, man,” Ollie said with a laugh, “from Eddie.”

Who promptly ducked behind his horse under the guise of brushing its mane.

Steve licked his lips slowly as a sly smile took over his face. “No doubt only horrible things,” he teased.

Eddie let out a squawk and glared at him from around the horse. “Hey!”

Steve laughed and Eddie let out a little huff of breath as he pouted.

“Our parents own the horses,” Jeff said, “We have three that joust and two the trick ride and then there’s King, who was a racehorse in his heyday.”

Ollie nodded, “We usually let whoever is playing the king of the Fair ride him at the closing ceremonies. He’s pretty as hell.”

“So like Steve,” Dustin said. “He used to be called King Steve in high school.”

Steve tipped the twerp’s hat off.

“Hey!”

El giggled and Dustin’s head whipped around to face her. She pressed her lips together and looked up and away.

“Can I see King?” Will asked, softly.

Ollie lit up. “Yeah, sure.” He turned to Jeff. “I’ve got get him ready for tonight anyway, so I can I have Will help me?”

Jeff smiled at his little brother. “Sure thing, it’ll make the work go faster.”

“He seems like a good kid,” Jonathan said, “how old is he?”

“He’s fourteen,” he said, “so he’ll be an incoming freshman this year.”

Lucas smiled. “So a year younger than us.”

Jeff nodded.

“Is he going to join Hellfire?” Dustin asked, practically vibrating out of his skin.

“He wants to but with me graduating last year,” Jeff said with a wince, “he’s worried he won’t know anyone but Gareth.”

Lucas grinned. “Well he knows us now, we’ll hang out with him all summer so that come school time, he’ll have friends in Hellfire.”

Jeff grinned back. “I think he’d really like that.”

Steve smiled at his nuggets. He was glad that they were willing to take this kid they just met under their wing and make sure he didn’t get lost at high school.

He really couldn’t have been prouder. He caught Eddie’s eye and the other man grinned.

He lopped over to Steve, the grin never leaving his face.

“So pretty boy,” Eddie teased. “You enjoy the show?”

Steve nudged him his shoulder. “Of course I did. A bit terrifying on this side of things though.”

Eddie laughed. “I assure you, sweetheart, it’s equally terrifying on my end, too.”

“How long have you been doing this then?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and thought about it. “On and off since I got to Hawkins and became friends with Jeff. His mom is the one that thought me, but I’ve only been serious about it in the last couple years. As a way to keep myself from getting too depressed about school.”

“That’s fair,” Steve said.

When he looked around most of them had gone. It was only Robin, Gareth, Jeff, and Max that remained.

“Where did everyone go?” Will asked as he came out the stall with Ollie.

Robin began counting of on her fingers. “Brian and Mike went to go watch the caber toss on the outskirts of the Fair. Dustin, Lucas and El went to go watch the sword fights. Nancy and Jonathan went to try the ax throwing.” She looked around. “Did I miss anyone?”

The rest of them shook their heads.

“And the rest of us were waiting for Will!” she finished with a cheer.

Will blushed and Eddie and Steve shared a knowing glance.

“Hey, do you and Ollie want to come with me to see the bagpipers?” Max asked Will.

Will and Ollie looked at each other and then nodded as one. The two boys followed the pirate queen, walking side by side.

“Well,” Gareth said, “I’m glad Mike missed that one.”

Robin looked over at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Mike is always jealous of anyone who spends time with Will,” Steve explained, “except El. Even if he spends all his time with her, he still gets jealous when Will gives up and goes to talk to someone else.”

Eddie nodded. “That kid has got to get his head out of his ass, before a sweet boy like Ollie sweeps our Will the Wise off his feet.”

Jeff grinned. “I like that idea!”

Gareth snorted. “You only like that idea because Mike called your thief a common rogue.”

“My thief is literally a lord,” Jeff defended. “Like Lord Kelnic is his name. He can’t be a common rogue.”

Steve leaned over to Eddie and whispered, “What are they talking about?”

“I’ll explain it later,” Eddie whispered back.

Steve nodded, knowing that Eddie would do just that.

“Hey, you want to go for a stroll?” Steve asked. “I don’t care where, really. I just want to spend the afternoon with you.”

Eddie perked up. “Hell yeah! Why don’t I show the behind the scenes stuff most people don’t get to see?”

“Sounds perfect.” Steve smiled.

Robin and Jeff shared a fond glance about their best friends and shook their heads as Eddie led Steve away.

****

Part 12 Part 13

I love jousting Eddie as much as the next gal, but I also realize that Eddie looks like a stiff wind would knock him over and would be flying out of that saddle with every hit. So I made him a trick rider instead.

I also did not set out to write Will a love interest, the love interest just shoved himself into my story and I let him stay.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter CLOSED

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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