#hes just such a fun character to rotate around in my head

[whatasmoothgardener]

I really adore Barnaby as a character tbh. Fusing the rich princely unobtainable guy from shoujo romances with the arrogant loner with a tragic past from a shounen action series to make a guy who gets called “Bunny” by his DILF partner in a seinen superhero workplace anime.

[paarthursass]

i think it’s funny that death is, technically speaking, the only other person “present” with lucheni as he tells the story.  everyone else is just a shadow, an illustration that lucheni is painting.  but death is there, too.  he shows up in the prologue.  but he’s silent, he doesn’t offer commentary (aside from his solo in the opening number) and just plays his role.  and i think that’s very funny of him.

luigi’s undoubtedly an unreliable narrator but death does NOT speak up to confirm or deny ANYTHING lucheni’s saying.  either death’s had to do this song and dance a few time before an is INCREDIBLY bored with it and doesn’t feel like putting in more effort than he has to, or he’s bored and playing along for the lolz and just nodding his head in agreement.  lucheni could say ‘and then elisabeth fought attila the hun’ and death would just be like ‘yep. that happened.  what do you mean he died 1400 years prior.  he was there i saw him.’

[taconafide2]

dainkae would have so much potential if they were my ocs but otherwise the timeline in canon pissess me off too much for them to work as they do in the popular fanon perception . They Just Don't they have to be absolute strangers and meet on a random fucking day in angel's share and go. What the actual fuck

[soft-girl-musings]

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Jake Lockley x plus size fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for thirsty jake, author does not dance but saw it on the tv once (i'm mostly kidding), mustachioed jake jumpscare (tagging for the haters), no use of Y/N

wc: 1.9k

fic summary: For Jake, a night on the town means sticking to the background, listening for signs of trouble. That all changes when he sees you at the dance hall.

A/N: still on the jake train and I am making it everyone's problem. just wanted to preface by saying, as a curvy girlie, i recognize that plus size folk are not a monolith. so everything in this fic is based on my own experience, etc. enjoy!

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Jake likes to keep his intel hotspots in rotation. 

Mondays and Wednesdays he'll head to the diner after a day in the cab, refueling and checking in with his network.

Tuesdays and Thursdays he'll hit the bars. Weekends are mostly for driving.

But Fridays? Fridays are for dancing.

Jake's guilty pleasure is scoping out the dance hall. The clubs have their appeal, but there's something timeless about the hole in the wall he’d discovered a while back. Nothing special, just a cozy ballroom with a bar, tables lifted on a platform framing ¾ of the room and turning the dance floor into an inverse stage.

Tonight he nurses a beer in the corner, listening to a couple of seedy characters describe some suspicious activity at a warehouse he'd been tailing. But he hasn't caught much of their conversation. Truth be told, he's a bit distracted tonight.

Because of you.

He'd seen you come in with four other people, two couples by the look of it. He'd been immediately taken by you: while some patrons came to dance in jeans and t-shirts, you'd dressed to impress. He'd shamelessly raked his eyes over your form, generous curves hugged by the bodice of your dress that trailed down over your ample hips. You walked with a timid sway, the movement inevitable even as you drew your arms about yourself, settling into your seat with care at a table clear across the room from him.

As much as he's tried to fight it, his attention always drifts back to you: poised and pretty, eyes scanning the room as one couple, then another leaves you for the Latin-dance-of-the-week group lesson hosted like clockwork every Friday. The instructor drones on, but Jake is zeroed in on you: all softness and warmth, criminally tucked away from the rest of the fun.

The warehouse can wait.

__________

You don’t consider yourself the kind of girl someone crosses the room for.

That’s probably why you don’t notice the determined stranger making his way across the crowded dance floor, eyes trained on you as he adjusts his cap with a smirk.

You’re taking another sip of your overpriced cocktail when you hear an unfamiliar voice below you.

“Not a fan of the rumba?”

You finally register the man standing by the corner of your table. He’s handsome, you have to admit, his dark features highlighting kind brown eyes, creased from his almost too-eager smile. When you realize he’s talking to you, your words are still slow to come out.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s the mustache, isn’t it?” He grins sheepishly, dragging a palm across his lower face. “Knew it’d skeeve some people out, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

“No,” you say too quickly for your own liking, “It’s, ah– nice. Suits you.”

You’re met with a cheeky grin as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded as he leans in. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet a friendly face.”

You eye him warily, wondering what his angle could be. A quick glance around the room confirms there’s only so many unattached women surrounding the dance floor. You sigh internally. The game is always the same: keep them entertained until the girls they really want to talk to come back from the bar, or the bathroom, or stray just far enough from the guys they arrived with.

Might as well play along. 

Settling back into your seat, you tell him your name. His grin widens as he echoes it with something bordering reverence, and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

Jake props one elbow on the table, looking up at you. Seems like he’s not going anywhere for a while.

“I gotta know– you not a fan of the rumba?”  He asks again, staring up at you dreamily. You don't catch it, your eyes flitting between him and the dance floor. The lesson is over, and couples spread out to dance independently.

“Hm? Oh, um– it’s alright,” you say with a shrug, arms wrapping around your middle again. “Just not a dancing night for me.” 

Truth be told, it’s been ages since anyone’s invited you to dance. You’ve contented yourself with watching, although something deep inside aches for someone to ask you to–

"Dance with me."

You raise an eyebrow, struck by his bluntness. "I'm sorry?"

He leans in, both arms now resting on the table. "Dance with me, doll." His grin widens as he drinks you in. Your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you almost believe the admiration behind his eyes.

You press your lips together and look back to the crowd. "No thanks."

"I promise I don't bite," he teases, baring his teeth for effect. The slight gap in his smile catches your eye and you look away again. He's definitely a charmer.

"I…" you trail off, searching for an excuse but find you're hesitant to give it. 

Your self-sabotaging streak wins out. "Sorry, I have to keep the table for my friends." You nod toward the couples you came with, each person settled in the arms of their partner as they stumble through the rumba on their own. Your frown deepens; it does look fun.

Jake hums and props his head on one hand. "Don't tell me you only tagged along to watch their purses? Not the best of friends," he adds, critique mixed with sympathy.

You almost tell him that this wasn't the plan, you were meant to have a date tonight. A date who suddenly couldn't make it once your friend had caved and sent him a picture of you– a snapshot you'd both hoped wouldn't "fatfish" but was flattering enough to entice him to commit. Clearly he didn't.

You consider telling him everything, so lost in thought you don't realize he's been saying your name. He calls you once more, and you snap back to the present, tearing your eyes away from the dance floor.

"Sorry, what was that?"

As you speak, Jake walks around the table until he's closer to your side. He holds out his hand.

"C'mon, one dance." He asks again, angling his head to catch your eye. "Please?"

The last of your resolve absolutely crumbles at the way his voice softens with every word. As if you have something he wants. As if you could reject him and make it sting. 

Oh, what the hell.

"...Alright. One dance." 

You didn't think he could smile any wider, but he does– tossing his cap onto the table and trailing a hand through his thick black curls, he's all crow's feet and smile lines as you accept his hand.

Jake weaves between dancing pairs with you in tow, until you reach the middle of the floor. Your eyes dart around at the couples surrounding you, but a gentle touch under your chin brings your attention back to him.

"Just focus on me, yeah?" His voice is still soft, keeping you grounded in the eye of the busy dance floor. You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"Right, so–" Jake clasps your right hand and raises it to chin level. He moves your left hand to cradle his shoulder, and places his right hand on your shoulder blade. It takes everything in him not to squeeze the flesh under his palm; you're just as warm and soft as he'd thought you'd be.

He talks you through the basics, how to time your steps and the flow of each movement. Every so often, he’ll lift your chin again, since you keep looking at your feet to keep up.

You catch on quicker than you’d expected. Even though your cheeks are blazing, you feel yourself loosen up– your body relaxing, your hips swaying a bit more freely. 

Jake can tell: he’s never short of praise and encouragement, and has to remember his own advice to stop himself from watching your hips the whole time.

"Alright," he warns, "here's something a little tricky-"

As soon as you feel his hand flex, you know what to do. You step out and deftly spin under his arm, hips swaying with a cheeky flourish for effect.

Jake barks a laugh of surprise, arms settling back into place as you complete the step.

You let yourself crack a smile. “You third wheel enough of these dance lessons, you’re bound to pick some things up.”

“No kidding,” he affirms, resuming an easy rhythm for you both. You’d think he was born with that grin on his face, the way it hasn’t faltered since he introduced himself.

One song bleeds into another, but neither of you notice. Instead, you draw closer together, your frame more relaxed and your heart racing. With every beat, you fight back the budding intoxication of the moment. Because this can't be real; this can't be something that lasts. No matter how many praises he showers, winks he offers, or lingering brushes against your hips, shoulders, seemingly anywhere he can touch you, you know you won't be hearing from Jake once you leave this dance floor. That's how this always goes down.

The song ends and you both slow to a stop. Slightly breathless, your hands trail up to Jake’s shoulders, thumbs tracing the fabric there as you work up the courage to ask one last question.

"So… is this the part where you go back to your friends and tally up who got the big girl to believe you were interested?"

Jake's brows knit together, his hands pressed to your shoulder blades to hold you steady. "I don't-"

"Oh please, you don't have to pretend. I survived high school, I can take it." You smirk, worrying your lip to keep your disappointment at bay. This was a nice fantasy, but you know how this ends.

The band starts to play a slower tune, and his eyes meet yours. In a flash of flexed arms and footwork, you’re suddenly looking up at him, body tilted back as he dips you. A cheeky grin is plastered on his flushed features.

"Doll, you misunderstand." He draws you back up, bringing you cheek to cheek as the stubble of his warm face scratches your skin. He continues, voice low and close to your ear:

"We're dancin' because it'd be criminal to leave such a pretty wallflower unplucked all night." He starts to sway in time to the music, still holding you. An invitation to stay, to do this all again.

You lean back; his rapt attention is trained on you like before, the warmth in his brown eyes seeping into your cheeks. Your face blossoms into the widest smile, your soft angles catching the light and making you look downright radiant. 

"That's… so corny." And you laugh, a rich, uninhibited sound pouring from your lips until tears nearly spill down your cheeks. 

Jake takes it all in– the vision that you are. His hand trails down to the softness at the small of your back. The way you quake from laughter sends a thrill up his spine, and he chuckles in turn. If he wasn’t holding you, he swears he’d be a little weak in the knees.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder as you calm down. “What’s one more dance?” You breathe, letting yourself move in time with the music.

Jake bites his lip and nods, taking your hand again. “Thought you’d never ask, doll.”

With a flick of the wrist he spins you out, eliciting another laugh from you as he pulls you back in.

The warehouse can definitely wait: his night's going to be spent drawing that sweet sound from your lips as long as you'll let him.

----------

A/N: when I say "brainrot," i mean i couldn't sleep until i set this gd thing to publish (don't ask me what time)

huge shoutout to @hon3yboy @chrissymodi-frost and @mrsnadeem for letting me ramble in your DMs about dancer!Jake, all my love my darlings <3

addtl tag list: @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi

tysm for reading!

[kradogsrats]

Schrödinger's King in the Bird Box

Time for a return to the single topic that most torments me in this entire franchise canon: is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not?

Except not really. I'm not going to go over the evidence again. I've done it before. Almost everyone has done it before. It has only gotten stronger. At the absolute minimum, an attempt was made to put Harrow in the bird. That's not really disputable. I admit it. It's over.

This is actually the second time that I've struggled with narrative cognitive dissonance regarding a real core factor of this show (like not "what's the deal with Archdragon reproduction," but something that is clearly supposed to be thought about with the intent that it will eventually make sense), and eventually managed to rotate it so hard in my mind that the way I wanted to see it slipped out of my grasp and I saw it the way it's actually intended. Ironically, I think I may have been thinking about the Ocean arcanum at the time.

Anyway, what previously always bothered me about this question was mainly two things:

It would have a devastating impact on Ezran's character development if Harrow reappeared during s1-s3, but the timeskip and arc of s4-s5 made it so it would also be deeply weird for him to reappear before the show ends.

If Harrow is in Pip's body, both Viren and Pip's subsequent behavior, as well as how Pip is treated by the narrative on a meta level, make absolutely no fucking sense.

But... if Viren doesn't know whether the spell was successful or not? If we are meant to not know whether the spell was successful or not, because it's not going to get resolved in the show itself?

If we accept that the earliest point with any chance of the hooks for this plot being set is late s7—because yes, Aaron Ehasz would do an exact beat-for-beat repeat of Zuko and his mom—that both puts Ezran far enough in his growth for it not to be threatened by the "real" king returning, and keeps Harrow out of the loop for long enough that it doesn't really make sense for him to do anything but step down from the throne in favor of Ezran, anyway. As for Viren and Pip's behavior, if the show isn't going to advance that plot much further during its runtime, there's no reason for us to be constantly reminded of it. The setup has been made, and they can just let it stew because it's not actually relevant.

That being said, Viren's behavior actually does make a lot of sense if "is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not" is a question that is also tormenting him. To that end, I'll be doing some digging here on the nature and context of the body-switching spell, Pip/Harrow's behavior post-swap, and what the hell is going on in the Harrow section of Viren's dark magic dream.

The Spell is Made Up (Unlike All Those Real Spells)

First of all, I think there's been some long-term incorrect assumptions made about the body-switching spell. It's not a known spell: this is Claudia and Viren essentially flying by the seat of their pants... but we rarely stop to think about how that contextualizes the rest of the discussion around it.

The initial plan is to find the assassins and ambush them before nightfall. As Soren points out and Viren himself confirms: if they fail, the assassins will be unstoppable under the full moon and Harrow is as good as dead. Claudia decides to put her mind to that problem, so naturally she stops to flirt with Callum in the library and gets the inspiration for the spell from something he says.

(Fun fact: none of that happens in the novelization. Zero amount.)

She brings the idea to Viren, and they develop the spell from there. It's not really clear if Claudia actually knows whether something like that would be possible, but Viren does know that transferring the essence of a person can be done—he's got a nice little coin collection that proves it.

As for the snake, there's no way Viren "acquired" a two-headed soulfang serpent because he has a book somewhere on how to use a rare, malformed specimen of a dangerous Xadian creature to switch people between bodies. He probably thought "that's weird, but could be useful," or maybe whoever sold it to him just had a great sales pitch. A non-trivial amount of success at dark magic is in having access to rarer and more powerful reagents than your competition.

Anyway, what this means is that Viren has absolutely no idea what success looks like for this spell, particularly when using it on subjects of different species. When he describes it to Harrow, he is 110% talking out of his ass. He sounds like he knows exactly what the spell will do and how, and I think a lot of us kind of fell for that. He needs to sound confident, because if he admitted that he doesn't know if it will even work, with a possible failure condition of "snake eats your soul," well... a) Harrow rightfully wouldn't go for it, and b) he'd look incompetent, which is the worst thing ever.

When he goes to Harrow's room, he casts the spell... but did it work? I think that whatever it did, it did it in a way that Viren can't tell whether it worked or not. Maybe both Harrow and Pip passed out. Maybe Viren just didn't want to hang around for the aftermath—in the novelization, when he exits the room and runs into Callum, his eyes are still black from spellcasting.

Activities of Dr. Pip Harrow, Ph.D.

Probably the thing that has always bothered me the most about the entire Harrow-Pip theory is that yes, literally everything in the lead-up and immediate aftermath of the assassination points to that being exactly what happened... and then the narrative lens of the show completely drops the rope. Pip doesn't even appear in the novelization until Viren's pre-coronation scene, which is funny given his looming presence over half the scenes with Harrow in the show.

Pip appears exactly twice after the assassination—once in s1 and once in s2—otherwise he goes completely ignored. He's not in the background of Viren's office, or the throne room, or Harrow's bedroom. No one ever mentions him ever again. Ezran never mentions him again, in the show or in any supplementary materials. You'd think the boy who can talk to animals might have some interest in his dead dad's beloved pet... but who knows, maybe Pip has always been an asshole and Ezran's actually like "thank goodness I never have to speak to that dude again."

Anyway, in all of Pip's appearances, he behaves like... a bird. A trained bird—Harrow can rely on him not just fucking off—but he doesn't demonstrate human-like intelligence the way Bait does. That being said, Bait is essentially a main-cast character (at least as much as, say, Corvus... maybe even Soren) while Pip is a plot device, and even then it takes until well into the first arc for Bait to show the kind of complex reasoning and initiative that separates him from an unusually smart dog. Pip's human is also a stressed-out king, rather than a rambunctious ten-year-old, so he's probably a bit more sedate overall. I would personally bet, given the way the show has progressed with regard to Xadian creatures, that Pip is as intelligent as Bait.

The point of that is: even if Harrow's consciousness is occupying Pip's body, he's not really doing anything with it. He's pissy, sure:

But is that Harrow's pissy-ness or Pip's? Even if Pip is only as intelligent as a trainable bird, that's plenty intelligent enough for both grieving/confusion that their human is gone and holding a grudge against obvious assholes. Viren cages him, but is that because he flipped out and got bite-y? And was it Harrow flipping out, or Pip? Or is he caged just because Viren's of the general attitude that animals belong in cages? Those who fail tests of love... We just don't know.

A lot of us also, to circle back to assumptions about the spell, have tended to think of a body swap between Harrow and Pip resulting in Harrow flailing his arms around wildly and screeching... but again, we know literally nothing about this spell, nor do we actually know anything about Harrow's behavior after Viren leaves his room. Maybe his body sat catatonic on the bed until Runaan came in and shot him. Maybe Pip, being intelligent, was able to maintain the facade—once everyone's in the heat of battle, it would be hard to notice even significant deviations from normal behavior. Even if "Harrow" appeared to fight only halfheartedly, or give up entirely... well, he hasn't been the same since he lost Sarai. Maybe the spell only partially worked, and only half of his soul is inside Pip, with minimal or no influence over the bird body's behavior.

Viren does appear to take some precautions in case Harrow is alive inside Pip. The cage, for one... but he also has nearly all subsequent important conversations outside of his office. Like I said earlier, Pip's cage isn't rendered in the background of any scene, but since he escapes from Viren's office I'm assuming that's where he's been. Even if Pip was just out of frame in every scene in Viren's office post-assassination through end of s2, the only things he's seen are... Viren eating butterflies, and the conversation between Viren and Claudia about the mirror and her side mission to bring the egg back at all costs. He doesn't know about Soren's instructions to murder the boys. He knows about the mirror and Viren's obsession with it (which he could have known before), but he doesn't know about Aaravos. He may know that Viren stole his seal but only if Viren was stupid enough to stamp the letters with it in front of him (which... look, he could be). The only things he's really learned are that a) his sons are alive, and b) Viren lied to him and the egg is alive.

Now, realistically, if we were meant to hang on to the is-Harrow-in-the-bird plot thread because it's going to be significant within the scope of the show... I'd be expecting to see at least one cut to Pip glowering at some point during all these machinations. If it weren't for the mirror and Aaravos, I'd expect Viren to be yelling all his monologuing at Pip, too. But the show does none of that. Instead, the next time we see Pip, we see him peace-ing out of the show for at minimum the next three seasons, and possibly the remaining two, as well. If Harrow's in there... why? Did he go to find Callum and Ezran himself? It's not actually clear that he knows Ezran can understand animals, so it would be reasonable for him to think Viren is his only chance at ever not being a bird again. Maybe he thinks that chance is gone with Viren's arrest and would rather not spend the rest of his life in a cage. Maybe he really isn't in control of the body.

Back to Viren, though: since Pip refuses to demonstrate any behavior that could be taken as distinctly Harrow's, Viren actually has no idea at any point whether Harrow's in there or not. He doesn't know if Harrow lived. He doesn't know if he succeeded or failed. It's a constant reminder that he's almost, but not quite, in control. Almost, but not quite, good enough to achieve what he wants.

It probably drives him absolutely insane.

Did You Think You Were Somehow Getting Out of This Without Me Mentioning Kpp'Ar?

Just kidding, it's finally time to talk about Viren's dream. We've gone two entire seasons and a two-year timeskip without any mention of Harrow or Pip (though those maniacs dropped the fucking snake basket on us as an incidental but obvious prop early in s4), and then suddenly we get punched in the face by Viren's subconscious.

First, though, I do actually need to point something out in the scene with Kpp'Ar. Bear with me, I promise this is relevant.

Viren sealed Kpp'Ar's soul in a coin 12-ish years ago, and the coin has been sitting collecting dust in his secret dungeon for... some amount of that time. Now he opens the door and finds Kpp'Ar standing there, free—and I will note that I don't believe Viren actually knows how to free people from the coins, or whether it can even be done. His reaction is surprise, followed by suspicion and wariness:

When he encounters Harrow—dead—his reaction is horrified shock, which is fair since the last time he entered the room that way there was no surprise body chilling out waiting for him in it:

Then, when Harrow speaks to him, suddenly alive and unharmed, he drops straight into relief:

Some of this is undoubtedly due to the differences between Viren's relationship with Kpp'Ar and his relationship with Harrow. With Kpp'Ar, after that initial moment of confusion, he's absolutely determined to not show a single hint of ignorance or weakness—this is a trick, or a test, and a passing grade in "light verbal sparring with the mentor you're pretty sure you remember betraying" is a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. For Harrow, who he wants so desperately to call him brother, who he walked into this very room ready to die for, before everything went horribly awry—he not only immediately and willingly goes to his knees, he literally prostrates himself.

... I'll give everyone a moment to get all the innuendo and suggestiveness out of their systems, because that's not the point. This time.

What is the point is that Viren's reaction to Harrow isn't disbelief, but relief. Hope. Kpp'Ar is supposed to be in a coin, and Viren immediately questions how he got out. Harrow is supposed to be dead but Viren doesn't give a second thought to how he's not. Fortunately, Harrow helpfully explains:

Fun fact: back in s1, we don't actually see Viren actually taking action against the assassins. We don't even see evidence that he re-entered the room at all—it's only Soren and Claudia who participate in Runaan's capture.

I haven't actually touched a lot on the complex shit going on for Viren, emotionally, throughout all of this—I mentioned it's was probably driving Viren insane over the course of the first two seasons, but let me elaborate. If Viren successfully switched Harrow and Pip, that means Harrow survived... but he expressed his feelings on the proposal in no uncertain terms, and there's a good chance he will literally never forgive Viren. I don't think Viren thought far enough ahead to consider how to get Harrow into a human body again, but I do think he's dragging his feet on it a little because if he can work things to his advantage—unite the Pentarchy against Xadia and follow through on the war Harrow was avoiding—he'll prove to Harrow that he was right all along. Any chance of that flies out the window with Pip at the end of s2.

If the body-switching spell failed, it means Viren essentially killed Harrow himself. That's the reality I think he grows more and more resigned to over the course of s1 and s2, when Pip remains unresponsive. He had no choice but to take the best chance at saving someone he loved—but this time, instead of saving Harrow, he murdered him.

In the dream, Harrow has not only survived, but credits Viren with his survival. He doesn't just dismiss Viren's show of remorse, but makes his own apology to Viren. He calls Viren brother. After an impossibly long nightmare, everything is okay. All is forgiven. Maybe there was nothing to forgive, in the first place. Maybe Viren was right all along.

Then it all turns sinister with the callback to the coin incantation, and we have a sharp return to reality:

The cinematography here treats Pip a lot more like how I would expect him to be treated in s1/s2 if we were meant to know he was actually Harrow. There's focus actually on him, instead of just other characters' reaction to him. He "speaks"—as I noted in another post—in raspy sounds very unlike his songbird chirps from s1. This is absolutely Harrow as Viren actually left him—even if he's not dead, he's in a warped prison of dark magic, a perverse mockery of himself.

Oh wait.

Harrow-who-is-both-human-and-alive was never an option, and what we've got now is mirror images of Harrow-the-dead-human and Harrow-the-live-bird, and they're going to do to Viren what he did to them.

Now, it's not that none of this makes sense if Viren knows for sure that Harrow is in the bird... but it makes a lot less sense and has less emotional resonance. If Viren knows Harrow survived as Pip, he'd be more likely to question Harrow's human form than his survival—the way he does with Kpp'Ar. He might be more guarded, expecting hostility—which, I will note, is what he gets when Pip enters the scene. Instead, because until now he believed that he actually killed Harrow in his attempt to save him, he's so relieved to see Harrow alive that for that one moment he loses all pride and is ready to beg for forgiveness at Harrow's feet.

Since legitimately none of this makes sense if Viren didn't at least attempt to put Harrow in the bird, we're left with Harrow maybe or maybe not alive, Viren having maybe or maybe not been the one to actually kill him (gonna be a fun one with the Runaan context), and a plotline that is definitely not going to be resolved in the remaining two seasons of the show. I'd be kind of surprised if they even did any more setup for it (like Callum/Ezran finding out it's a possibility, or even a hint drop like Runaan being all "it was fucking weird, he just sat there" or something) outside of future supplemental media.

Conclusion

Either Harrow is alive and in the bird, with the future intent being to do a spinoff story The Search-style, or we're in for a huge bummer of a "actually, it was Viren all along who killed Harrow, therefore Runaan is a good guy and we can all be one happy family" pile of absolute bullshit. Yes, they said Harrow's dead. Harrow's body is dead, we knew that all along. There's a note in the artbook that Viren was actually going to rip the shroud off at Harrow's funeral in order to publicly prove it's his body, because that is an extremely normal thing to do.

The show just treats it extremely weirdly because, even as the only person with any chance of knowing, Viren is in the same uncertain boat as the rest of us. (Actually more uncertain than the rest of us, since he's not genre-aware.) Also it's another chance to torment Viren emotionally, and they'd never pass that up.

Thanks for coming to my absolutely ridiculous TED Talk on this topic, I hope this screenshot now does as much psychic damage to you as it does to me:

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 17}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Din Djarin is not a remorseful man. Everything he's done, he's done for a reason. But he finds himself in an internal struggle as he tears through the galaxy for traces of you.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, use of narcotics, use of drugs, reader gets drugged, reader gets kidnapped, reader gets tied up, kidnapping, controlling parent, toxic parent / child relationship, toxic parent / child dynamic, din has a lot of feelings, din reflects on his time spent with reader, death, minor character death, infectious thoughts, negative feelings, feelings of inadequacy, issues with intimacy, religious guilt, feelings of religious obligation, religious contemplation, so much guilt for our tin man, violence, derogative language, insinuations of sexual favors, a few instances of shouting, din loses his hold on reality (1) time, references to past instances of self-harm, references to past instances of suicidal ideations, let me know if i missed anything please!

A/N: an all din pov chapter, baby! who's ready for ten thousand words on how this man feels? this was a fun different way to approach the story and i rather liked it even if i am afraid to post it. there are so many different interpretations of din that are all so great, and while this is my personal one for the character in my fic, i'm still worried about how it'll be received

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Mother, please.” You begged, voice absolutely wrecked. Desperation settled in your gut, making you dizzy and nauseous. The illness of it was debilitating even through the hum of drugs waning in your system. Sobs were wracking your body, exploding from your ribcage in painful bursts. You struggled against the cuffs on your wrists, the cuffs around your ankles, rotating them in hopes of finding weakness but they were strong. But they were made of beskar, strong and programmed to shock you should you jostle them too much. Using the culture of the very people who had meant salvation now for damnation. She had made sure they would hold you this time.

She just sat there, watching you from the chair by the door. Long hair pulled up into a knot atop her head, blue tunic and black trousers flowing and clean. Her hands clasped in front of her, resting her chin against them as her eyes took in the slump of your form across the small room. You were on the ground, legs numb from the hard, unforgiving stone underneath you. Boots removed and down to nothing but your simple clothing. She had taken the pendant from you, the one Din had gifted you in the wake of your confession to losing the one from Akiz. It glinted over her own chest, visible where she allowed it to drape over the front of her collar.

“Please. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to the ship. I want to go home.”

“Oh no, my darling, you won’t be going anywhere near that disgusting ship again. That Mandalorian has caused enough damage, stealing you away after taking your fob. I still had to pay the Guild fee for your bounty. Credits you know we didn’t have in the first place.” She paused, her hands clasped together, elbows on her knees, and she leaned forward to rest her hand atop them. A wicked smile overtook her as she eyed you across the room.

“Luckily, I found someone who was willing to cover the cost and offer to take you as their wife. They’ve put a lot of energy and credits into helping locate you. They will be here in two days’ time to collect you.”

She looked almost mournful at the idea of you leaving so soon after reuniting. Of sharing you with another after claiming to do everything she had ever done to you out of protection.

“But he swore to protect you from any threats, from the Mandalorians that seem to be obsessed with owning you, harnessing your power to help them crawl from the cracks of the universe they ran to hide in when their planet was destroyed. This man, he’s from a very important royal line that is deeply rooted in the New Republic.”

“The New Republic is a joke, they can’t even keep their own soldiers happy, let alone protect anyone.”

“Hush now, darling.” She got up and the black tin she kept in her pocket flashed in her hand. You began thrashing even more so, tears cascading down your cheeks as she approached you. The click of the tin opening sent you back to every other time you had heard that sound in your life, eyes going wide and your breath left you as if you had been hit square in the chest. “The time will fly by with this dose and then we’ll be off to our new home.”

He’d been searching the city for days.

Despite the thrumming of pain through his head, his vision blurring, and the helmet resting too heavy on the now soft, new skin that was his injury. Tender fingers carefully spraying bacta and skin itching as the tissue tried to heal with its aid. He wished for your smaller hands to be the one caring for him, but he was alone. Alone with a fussing child that was beginning to use his powers to get his feelings across since he was still learning how to talk and use his little voice.

Not taking any time to rest, instincts telling him something was wrong, that something had happened. You wouldn’t just run off, even with what had occurred. At least…not for this long. He hoped. He…hoped.

Stalking through the various casinos and cantina’s, searching for any traces of you to be found. Even in the hectic atmospheres of the racetracks and brothels, of seedier bars and establishments you may have ducked into or been taken to by the force of whoever had stolen you away. Snatched you from whatever you had sought out to calm yourself.

He sat in front of the tracking fob given to him when he first took the job to return you to your mother for hours. Set it atop the control panels in the cockpit, helmet removed and head in his hands as he contemplated turning the device back on. He had scoured the hotels and seedier hostels with it in his grip, to no avail.

It was as if you had simply vanished.

Your smiles and laughter, soft sighs and teasing quips a figment of his imagination.

Made up in the loneliness that accompanied the type of life he led. Missions, jobs, hunting, tracking, trading in criminals and runaways for next to nothing, refueling the ship and hitting the ground running again, taking to the air and space again. And again, and again. He didn’t realize how tired and monotonous it had all become, despite the thrill of his skills proofing to be elite time and time again. He didn’t realize how much he had been missing out on until you threw it all off track. Deliver the goods and credits to the covert, ensure they were safe and protected, collect another job, hunt, track, kill, injure, collect. Broke the routine he had been so accustomed to with an utterance of his dying language.  Rolling off your tongue with precision.

It had been striking. You had been striking and he had torn you down in a way he never wanted to, unintentionally with a fumbling lack of words. It was maddening, to search for days to find no trace of you anywhere.

There was no indication you ever existed aside from those left behind on his ship. The mug of caf sweetened with sugar and powdered milk at the table, the pack of your cigarras you always insisted on smoking outside while it was docked, the crate with your tools and materials used to make armor, the neat and organized labels you had applied to everything within the panels. The room he had set up for you….though you often split your time between his own and the hammock still hung up in the hold space.

He had left it all untouched, too afraid to erase the pieces of evidence that you were real. That you had been aboard his ship. That you had been trying to connect with him and he stumbled over his words so badly he made you feel unwanted on such a level that made you run.

Like the acts between you two had just been him seeking out pleasure with no real intent other than that behind them. The thought that you must’ve felt like he was just like every other person who had ever used you made his stomach turn and bile burn in his throat. Only his ploys had been steeped in honey and saccharine promises. He had frozen, the words he wanted to whisper to you lost in the panic of the moment, of wanting exactly what you were asking for. It had all been so overwhelming. It had been so real, felt so real, and it had been a jarring realization.

That he had wanted to remove his helmet and give into your request.

Despite the Creed he swore his life to. Despite the commitment he had made to you that would allow for him to do so in time.

But now it was too little too late.

After the third day, he was beginning to think you weren’t merely taking some time to yourself…

Maybe he was foolish to think he hadn’t messed up so monumentally that you had found a way off world and run even further from him. But he knew you weren’t the type of person to do that. To him, to ad’ika.

Burc’ya. Friend.

Ner kar’ta. My heart.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

Vencuyot riduur. Future husband.

You wouldn’t have run from him to that degree, loyal and devoted. Loving and caring, kind hearted at the very core of who you were. Even despite the tragedies and ill-natured things you had been subjected to in your life. Good. Too good, for someone like him.

He was beginning to think something had happened.

But without the aid of your communication, vambraces still set atop the makeshift table along with your main bag and armor, he had no way of knowing for sure. Just the niggling feeling in his gut that was burrowing deeper by the second.

He sent a transmission to Karga, asking if there was any news of your arrest before deeming the planet a lost cause and raising the ramp. He took the Crest up up up and into the air, helmet scouring the shrinking planet all the while, feeling an ache in his heart that he didn’t think he would ever get used to.

He had to push through, he had to focus. You needed someone to help you, wherever you had gone or been taken. You needed him to find you. He needed to find you.

Ad’ika had been in a constant flux from eerily silent to wailing as loud as his little lungs would allow, wide eyes brimming with tears the longer you were gone. Din had taken to wrapping the child up in the cloak he had bought you, securing it with the metallic flower latches and laying him down in the cot alongside him. Never sleeping, only laying down intermittently to pass the time. Rest evading him as his mind began to think of the things that could’ve happened to you.

Tatooine was his first stop, no response from Karga when he docked and secured the ship in Pelli’s hangar. Much to his disappointment, the travel through hyperspace hadn’t been too long, so a response was wishful thinking on his part. Spurred on by the endless possibilities of what happened consuming him.

He was silent as he handed her the credits from your bag, loathing that he needed to use them as he lacked his own. Even now, gone from him and hurt, you were still offering him help. Providing for him the way he should be for you, the way that he wanted to. The reality of having asked you to travel with him weighing heavily on his mind. Once ad’ika is settled with those who could train him, Din would need to take up working with the Guild full time again to provide for the covert. A life steeped in danger and endless threats, a life you already had far too much experience with. Perhaps…perhaps he could secure a tract of land somewhere, a place to return to after jobs. A nice cabin surrounded by trees and an endless supply of anything you may need. Or perhaps a shop front on Nevarro, for you to sell you wares. He would take extra jobs to provide that for you, work his hands to the bone and until he could barely move for how exhausted he was.

Because you deserved it. You deserved to be happy and he was beginning to think that may not be with him. Not if he was constantly away or you were left on the ship for days, weeks, months at a time while he tracked down his quarries. Constantly traveling through space and left to handle the ship alone.

Would…would you even want that type of life?

Wouldn’t it be another type of imprisonment, no reward but a tired and aching man in the bed beside you only a handful of nights? Half of him given to you, half devoted to his Creed.

I’d rather be dead than be someone’s captive again. Even if it’s as one to you, jatne vod.

Thoughts consuming him, there was no argument from him as he left ad’ika with her to look through the city.

The lack of your figure emerging from the ship didn’t prompt any questions from her, though he could sense them on the tip of her tongue and the front of her mind.

He set out, looking for the woman who you made friends with the last time he had landed the Crest on the sandy planet.

He found her, in the middle of a scuffle in the marketplace over a stolen loaf of bread. A child whose stomach was caved in and bruises over their arms visible when the sleeves of their tunic rose up. The vendor wanted the child to be taken in, punished for the attempted theft. But he could see how conflicted Sioban was with following that heated demand.

Diffusing the situation, seeing the form he had first encountered you in mirrored in the small child, he stepped forward and offered a handful of credits to the vendor.

“To cover the bread for the child, two loaves and that chunk of cured meat.”

“Sir, this has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to put yourself out for that ungrateful litte-“

“Take it.” Din’s head throbbed, exhausted and anxious, just trying to do something good. Something you would do. They were your credits, and he wanted to do this. At the fixed stare of his visor, the vendor released the child from her tight grip, nearly throwing the small frame to the ground as she did. Roughly, she gathered the loaf that had started the whole ordeal, a second one, and the wrapped meat. Holding it out for him to take.

Sioban ushered everyone who had stopped in their tracks to go about their business. Once the small crowd cleared and attention was diverted, Din turned to the child and crouched down.

“Here, for you.” He kept his voice a hush, not wanting the modulator to manipulate his voice into a threatening or menacing tone it tended to do, taking the emotion from his words more often than not.

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Now go and stay out of trouble.”

An enthusiastic nod and they were running off, disappearing down the street.

“Well, well, well. Mando is a softie afterall.” Sioban’s voice lightly teased. “Where’s Sarad and the baby? Or is this a solo trip this time around?”

“I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

“Something happened.” The woman’s features hardened, a slant to her brow as her eyes looked him over before settling on the visor. She didn’t look or feel like a threat, something proven further by your willingness to share a table with the woman. But Din was fighting his instincts, the ones telling him to chase chase chase, even with no actual leads as to where you had gone. And this woman might hold some clues or at least be able to offer Din a higher chance if he had someone on the ground of the planet you had run to once already.

“Yes.”

The conversation with Sioban hadn’t yielded any answers. If anything, it solidified that Din had absolutely no idea what to do. With no other leads, he fell back on his tracking tactics, searching for your last place of known residence.

Once back to the ship, he silently takes ad’ika from Pelli. Not responding to the looks or faint questioning he knew was on the woman’s mind. A nod, a formal shaking of the woman’s hand and he was guiding the Crest back into the air to comb over the planet as best he could. You had said you thought you were here when he took you from that compound, a home you had hidden away on this world after running from your mother years ago.

It took him nearly a week’s worth of days of flying low to the land before he caught sight of a structure.

Mind working overdrive as he strained his eyes through the visor with aided mechanics for any sign of life amid the vast stretch of the desert landscape. Sectors outlined and crossed out when they didn’t yield anything. Errant skeletons of a bantha, the Jawa’s traveling across the land, and Tusken settlements the only markers of time passing and the ship moving moderately along.

And then, suddenly.

There were two tall spires beside a moderate looking abode. Moisture farming equipment, the same you had told him about replacing shortly before your capture. Was all he had to go off of, a small conversation that you hadn’t expanded on in your time with him.

The structure was like most far out into the desert, mostly underground with a rounded and smooth stone roof, a door with a protected entrance to prevent sand from building up right up against it. It was modest, big enough for one person to have plenty of room. Abandoned, by his guess, the stone of the building chipped in places from sand and the spare storm weathering it down.

It had to be yours, it had to be, please let it be yours were his thoughts as he broke the lock still activated, ensuring the structure was protected even out in the middle of nowhere. Mos Eisley was an entire day’s travel away. Even more so in any other direction to another of the planets handful of moderate settlements. A good place to hide. Visibility on your side. A lonely place to hide.

I’ve always loved the forest.

The memory how your tired and injured features had lit up at the sight of Sorgan visible through the glass of the cockpit, the breathy gasp that had fallen from your lips sprung to his mind. You had been so calm, despite the precarious circumstances, stealing away moments to brush your bare fingers along the leaves reaching out from low branches.

You must’ve been miserable here. The land so dry and empty, the closest mountain ridges barely visible on the horizon. Even those were spotty with tangled roots that held little to no greenery. Sentencing yourself to the wasteland to live out your life in fear and comfortability, hoping the environment you weren’t fond of would throw those searching for you off your trail.

Glancing behind him, Din watched as ad’ika slowly made his way down the ramp. Little sounds falling from his lips as he took in the sight of his guardian in front of a new place he didn’t recognize. Raising his hands as he got to the bottom of it, Din retreated to it and lifted up the small child, holding him tight in the crook of his elbow as he descended down the few steps and through the open door.

It was dark inside, no lights on or power source even charged, no doubt. But definitely abandoned. Sparingly decorated, though he could feel that it was once your space. The kitchen equipped with a fancy caf maker, ample kitchen wares, potted plants and herbs that had long died and dried in the sunlight coming in through the windows. There was an impressively organized wall of shelving right above a desk in the large main room, presumably where you would work on crafting armor. The only way to support yourself in such an environment. Most likely making trips into town in order to sell or trade.

There were three interior doors at the back of the structure. A heavy duty one off to the side of the kitchen. That one contained a greenhouse set up, or as close to one as you could imitate underground and on so hot a planet. There was a large panel of controls beside the door on the inside, telling Din of the way you controlled the pressure and moisture of the room One to a storage room, more evidence of your time spent here. Full of large bins and crates, evidence of grains and dried food. Of the pieces of armor you lovingly and intricately crafted.

One to a fresher, the last to what was once your bedroom.

Underneath the bed is where he found it, with the aid of his helmet. The massive rug that took up most of the bedroom floor hiding it in plain sight. The trap door exposed when he moved the bed and folded the rug up.

It wasn’t secured with anything that he could see, even with the aid of his helmet. It looked just like score marks dug into the stone ground. And he recalled the way you could effortlessly wield the Force, the power you shared with the child. Perhaps you hadn’t wanted a way for anyone else to access what lay hidden beneath, using it to manipulate the hideaway you felt you needed even this deep in the desert alone. Forever paranoid and fearful of being tracked down and found out.

Sighing, Din tried to think of a way to break the barrier, knowing he needed to search the entire home.

“Ad’ika,” He called, turning to see the child had situated himself on the couch in the main room. Eyes wide as he toyed with a broken collar. He wondered if it had belonged to a creature you had cared for, run away or long since passed now. “Ad’ika, can you help me?”

Leaning down to pick up the occupied child, Din pointed a gloved finger to the marks in the stone ground.

“Ad’ika, see these lines?” A gurgle of acknowledgement, the tilting of his head. “There’s a door here, that leads underground. Mesh’la put it there, do you think you can open it?”

Din set him down in front of it, crouching down to hold his hand out in front of them both and mimic the way you would twist your hand in concentration to harness your powers.

“Just like Mesh’la, like how you take the handle from the lever in the control room?”

Wide eyes looked up at him, curiosity in them at the man’s words.

If this didn’t work…he could always resort to using the charges fastened to his belt. Force a way through the entrance, but he didn’t want to damage the space or the room below.

But the crackling of stone was sharp as it sounded in the air. The child’s small face scrunched up in concentration, his eyes clenched shut as he harnessed his powers. Quiet grunts falling from his mouth as he struggled to move the stone.

But it was working. It was opening, the telltale sounds of stone grinding on stone as the thick slab that acted as an entrance was pried open.

“Good job, ad’ika! It’s working!” He couldn’t contain the pride in his voice nor the rapid beating of his heart. Positive that any answers he was in search of would dwell below. He moved forward to help lift the heavy slab, shoving it along the floor and revealing a dark space into the lower level of the house.

Turning on the flashlight of his helmet, Din descended into the bowels of your hideaway. Dust enveloped him as he waved at ad’ika to stay put on the higher level until he cleared the space.

It was a large room, the same size as the whole top floor of the structure. Though it was only two rooms, a living room and a bedroom with a second fresher. The living room held floor to ceiling bookcases, filled to the brim with physical books. A holo net in front of the couch, signs that you spent just as much time down here as you did in the rest of the structure if not more.  He hated the realization that you felt the need to hide away even this far out in the desert, this far out in the galaxy. Forever paranoid and holding the fear that you would be tracked down. And he had been a part of that fear, he had been one of the many who had sought you out.

The crate in the bedroom caught his eye, beckoning him forward. Not only because of the hefty locks sealing it shut but because there was energy around it that made the tips of his fingers tingle. Much like his blood when he felt your body pressed up to his own, the sacrament of your trust in him personified.

Walking toward it, the small baby curls of his recently trimmed hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Snapping the thick locks, he kneeled on the ground in front of it and slowly lifted the lid.

His breath left him as the visor set into a midnight blue, almost black Mandalorian helmet peered back up at him. It was in pristine condition, as if it had merely been taken off for the man who he suspected wore it to partake in a quick meal and not the reality that it had been stored here for who knows how many years untouched. He hadn’t asked if you had kept it, after the man’s death, but he was felt the question bubble on his tongue more than once. But the answer was sitting obvious and blaring right in front of him.

Lifting it revealed the very same pendant he had gifted to you, attached to a thinly crafted beskar chain.

The one you had said you intended to show him in order to garner his help, to let him know of your connection to his way of life. Lost in the scuffle of being taken off guard and whisked away, but it was here, awaiting your return. He wondered why you hadn’t worn it that day, the day that set your paths up to cross. With slow movements, he began to remove the cowl about his neck, laying it down beside him.

With a held breath, he reached for the pendant and fastened it around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt and layers of protective ware fronted by his cuirass. The cowl going back in place.

Beside the helmet…beside it was a neatly arranged line of metal hilts similar to the one you carried with you at all times. Similar to the one you had tried to buy your freedom from him with when first meeting.

Similar but not identical.

There were four of them. Lightsabers, you had told him they were called. That he now knew were an integral part of the creed you had been trained in. But the fact remained that he didn’t know the why of how many you had in your possession.

You had said each person similar in skill and training crafted their own, each unique and personal to an individual much like the helmets and armor Mandalorian’s adorned. Carefully picking one up, tingling traveling further up his arms and settling down his back, he tilted it to see that it did indeed house a crystal like your own. Each one had a different hue.

He decided to stay in the place that you once called home that night, locking up the ship after checking to see if he had received word from Karga. But when there were transmissions waiting to be heard, he secured the ship. His head hurting and his mind overwhelmed at finding pieces of you, proof that you existed outside of his memories.

Settling into the bed, he knew it was a lost cause as he tried to feel close to you. Reality reminding him you hadn’t slept in either of the cots aboard the ship in nearly two weeks now, years for the bed he now lay atop, cover bunched underneath his arms as he curled on his side and regarded the journal you left behind in your haste to run. Ad’ika resting atop the pillow beside his own, wrapped in your cloak as if it was the softest blanket in the universe. The child trying to feel close to you as well, missing you and growing more concerned each day.

Sleep evaded him, your voice loud in his head, the way you had sounded so devoid of emotion when he had failed to communicate with you. Tipping into different memories, the most prominent of the events back on Nevarro.

It rang in his ears, over and over, layering itself until it was a buzz he couldn’t rid himself of.

Ner kar’ta.

The desperation in your voice, the tears in your eyes, the way your hands shook as they reached out for him, how gentle they were when they cradled his helmet. The soft press of your forehead to his chest, to his helmet, to his hands grasped in your own as he lay bloodied and injured, barely conscious and so tired. So ready for death after a life that had only allowed him a glimpse of you. To ensure you could escape and continue to live, to be safe.

You had told him, as well as you could, what you meant to him.

Had shown him, with trusting him to press his skin to yours, body tangled with his own. Nervous giggles sounding into the air and seizing his heart as he wanted for more of them. Of the breathy sighs and sounds that fell from your lips as you let him caress your skin, the soft give of your chest, the plush give of your thighs, the velvet smooth apex between them.

Trusted him with the most intimate parts of you, parts of human connection. Even in the face of all that you had endured.

And then you has whispered it, half asleep and safe underneath him.

I love you. Future husband.

And he shattered it. With a foolish blunder of words he hadn’t been able to reign in, to explain himself and his own desires in a more coherent way. That he wanted you just as you wanted him.

Jatne vod.

Contradicted with the emotion bleeding from your expressive eyes, the firm line of your lips as you closed your mouth, resigned to a notion that you gathered from his stupid, ill thought-out words. From his lack of words. The way your hands shook for an entirely different reason, the way you shrunk into yourself, away from him.

And then you had been gone.

And it hurt.

He left ad’ika in the room, fast asleep atop the pillows.

Removing his helmet and hanging his head in his hands, he settled on the couch. For the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian known for being so ruthless, for being so focused and emotionless behind his helmet, cried.  

“Mando, I’ve received word. But it is best relayed in person. I will be awaiting your arrival.”

Ad’ika was not having a good day, he didn’t want to leave the house he could feel your presence in. He had already wailed and shook his tiny fists as Din tried to pick up him. Causing the migraine addled man to lose his grip at the sharp pierce of his cries to his head. That had only resulted in the thump of ad’ika’s bottom on the stone floor and more crying.

Din already felt bad enough, but he felt like the worst guardian in the galaxy for dropping his foundling, for not being able to manage his own pain and discomfort to care for another’s. A pang of fear floods him, igniting his instincts in a way it rarely did. And he froze in his crouched position, having been about to scoop ad’ika up.

The child must’ve shared in his foreboding, a shriek sprouting from him and causing Din to cradle his head as best he could with the helmet, knees kissing the floor harshly as he fell to them.

Something was wrong. Low in his gut, unease bubbled and stuck to his insides.

He felt like he was going to be sick, his head throbbing, pain prickling from the healing scar at the back.

And then his body felt numb, like all sense of command was not his to control and his vision blacked out.

Nevarro loomed in the distance, approaching fast. The ship rattled at the harsh landing, Din’s steps hard and fast as he disembarked, the ramp closing behind him as he crossed the new archway that had been erected in the time he had been away. Months had gone by, one with you and one without. Having to spend another week resting in the place you once called home. He had fallen ill, though of what he didn’t have an answer. Only that his head felt like he had been electrocuted and his limbs had been hard to control. Adi’ka too, had been lethargic, crying out long into the night every time the suns had set and darkness took over the planet. The search for you stretching far too long, anxiety thrumming over his skin.

Karga was in the reconstructed city hall, reading over something laid out on the table when the door boomed open, revealing the determined figure of Din, a secretary behind him frantically trying to warn the man in charge of his arrival.

“Where?”

“Sir, please, you need to check in-“

“It’s alright, he’s got clearance.” With a nod the woman was closing the door behind her, knowing it was serious if all protocol was being ignored.

Din repeated his question, forgoing a formal greeting.

“Well, I wish these were better circumstances.” The man stood up, coming around the table and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the still form of Din across the room. The wide eyes of the child peeking out from the bag at his hip, small hands allowing him to climb from within it and jump from the moderate height. He cooed, walking the distance to Karga and lifting his hands toward the man.

“I’m still trying to get intel on that. But I do know that it was her mother, who struck a deal with someone of the Guild. He…was here still when we took back the city. He had taken the transaction separate from the Guild, not wanting word of it to get back to me. To you.” He relayed the information as he bent down to pick up the small being.

“I’ve got him locked up, but he’s not speaking.”

“He will.”

“Mando-“

He was gone in a blink, stalking out the door and toward the prison cells kept on the lowest floor of the building.

The stone steps opened up to a line of cells on both sides of the long room, Din stopped in front of the only occupied one. Body buzzing with anger that the inhabitant had not only hunted you down and captured you but did so on the orders of someone who’s voice triggered you through a transmission. He couldn’t begin to imagine the visceral reaction you’d have upon seeing her for the first time in years, having entertained the thought of killing yourself in order to not have to deal with her again.

And he feared, heat catching in his throat as he felt the prickle of tears.

I’d rather be dead than be shackled for one more second of my life!

You…you wouldn’t, right? Now that you had him to return to, someone to rescue you from being stolen away from the life you had carved out for yourself. It had been so long since you had been taken, days, weeks, and entire month. And he still had no clue as to where you had been crated off to. It would be more days, more weeks, maybe another month before he could figure it out. Did you already seize an unknown opportunity, try to escape? Or had you given up, too loaded up with whatever drugs your mother and intended pumped into your system to make you compliant? Would you have taken the endless out of harming yourself, seeing it as the only option as he failed to come to your aid thus far?

Would you be able to sense the desperation and endless efforts he was putting forth to find you? That he was trying, despite the way he was still healing, despite the sense of dread that he would be too late?

Would you be able to sense his worry and fear over you having to deal with something you never wished for? A forced reunion with your mother, back in her clutches and control. A forced marriage to a man you didn’t know, the obligations that came along with that notion…the very same acts that had caused you to turn to self-harm in the past, the scars of which were displayed on the skin of your thighs, the same ones that he had run his fingers over not too long ago…

A man bound in cuffs was slumped against the floor, back leaning on the wall behind him. He appeared to be alive, though if his answers didn’t aid Din in his search for you he wouldn’t be for long. Giving into the urge to startle the unaware man, Din banged a fist on the bars of the cell. Jerking awake, the man’s eyes flew open and his chest heaved.

The second he recognized the armor, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“It was just a job, nothing personal, Mando.”

“Is that why you went out of your way to hide it from the Guild records?”

“You’re too self-righteous, knew you’d come after me for hunting the girl.”

The snapping of metal was loud, sickening as Din’s shoulders forced the control panel to bend and spark.

The whine of the door swinging open deafening as the man pressed himself back into the wall, trying to get up on his feet. But he was too slow, Din’s hands hauling the man up by the front of his jumpsuit and slamming him into the wall. A crack sounded as the back of the man’s head connected with the stone of the wall. A wail punched from his chest as he lost the air in his lungs.

“It’s too late, her mother married her off to some high lord. She’s probably already knocked up with his heir by now. Living a cush life in some nice palace far away from here.” He spoke unprompted by a direct question. Knowing that it was useless to try and lie to the Mandalorian.

The mere thought of someone touching you had anger swirling in his chest and stomach, igniting him in a dangerous way. You didn’t like people touching you, you didn’t like anyone who wasn’t him touching you in any way let alone intimately. His voice was low when he breathed out his next question, an edge to it that commanded the truth.

“Where?”

“Don’t know, I told her mother you were probably going to find out, track me down and kill me for the information. Don’t know why.” The man flipped the stray hairs flopping over his forehead away, teeth clenching as he recalled the way you had slammed him harshly into the side of the alley.  “The bitch has a pretty face, sure, but she was a handful. Took a lot to take her out, but once I did, she begged so sweet for me to let her go.”

“Drugging someone isn’t something to boast about, it’s a last-ditch effort for those who don’t have the skill for the job.” Din’s words were a guttural sound, echoing across the floor. Blood dripped from the man’s nose, a vambrace knocked into it the longer the man talked. He didn’t know anything, but that wouldn’t stop Din from beating what he could out of the man.

“So what? It took her down and that’s what mattered. I saw her take down those Storm Troopers that overran the city, there was no way I was going to be able to without the hint from her mother. You’ll find another body to warm your bed. No need to fret over-“

Din’s hand was around the man’s throat in a flash, knuckles popping with the force. An ugly gurgle deep in his chest, body desperate for air, but he would never take another breath again. Windpipe crushing under his palm, Din took some comfort in the final, choked sound the man made before his body went limp.

Before it could even crumple to the ground, Din was walking out of the room and going straight toward the stairs.  

“Mando, I sent communication to Cara, she’s-“

“I’ve got what I need.” Din was careful as he lifted the child from atop the desk where Karga had set him with a snack. Exchanging adoring coos with the tired little being. Making sure to offer the rest of the pack of dried fruit to the claws reaching out for it, a whine falling from his mouth at the idea of leaving it behind.

“Not so fast-“

“I don’t have time. I need to find her.” Din snapped, fists clenching and ad’ika ducking down into the bag at the boom of his voice. “She’s been sold like a slave by her mother.”

“I’m going with you,” Cara was firm in her decision, not wanting to take any chances of your distance becoming permanent. Of it leading to the demise of the person who you had begun to develop into that she had glimpsed.

“No, I have to handle this myself. I was the one who failed to protect her.” He moved to continue through the room, toward the door. But Cara was suddenly in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips a firm line.

“Mando, you’re gonna need help. And she’s important to me too.”

It was a quiet trek back to the entrance of the city, more ships having landed around his own. He was about to engage the ramp when two of the attending guards approached him. But they spoke with Cara at the sharp gaze of the visor on them. Another ship was offered for them to use, curtesy of the city and of Karga. Something a little smaller, a little faster, nondescript and wouldn’t give away the presence of an enraged and desperate Mandalorian searching for his partner.

When the argument for a different ship didn’t take, Karga approached through the archway.

Cara was hesitant to point out that the ship was as obvious as Din’s armor. A sign to tip off those keeping an eye out for threats. She had been quiet, sitting in the office with the magistrate and the child while the body of the now deceased Guild member who had hunted you down was taken care of. Waiting for Din to emerge from the containment level. But now she stood beside him, urging him to see the benefits to changing ships, just for the time being.

“Do we risk docking the ship in a hangar?”

“Yes, we lie about the model.” Din insisted, not wanting to leave the Crest behind.

“What if someone knows?”

“It’s an old ship, pre-Empire, no one will know.”

“They’ll run it through the system.” Karga spoke up, wanting to be a voice of reason for his friend determined to rush, to not take a beat and think things through. “Mando, you owe it to her to be as stealthy as possible. If they know you’re coming, once you track down where, they may hurt her. Take it out on her.”

Din closed his eyes, hand coming to the front of his helmet and over the visor. He didn’t want to part ways with his ship, even temporarily. It would mean he wasn’t surrounded by the things you left behind, the proof that you were real, had been with him, shared in a life with him even for a moment.

With his words more of a grunt than anything, he conceded, knowing the two beside him were just trying to help.

“What did you do Mando?” She asked quietly, the book from your crate in her hands and pages flipping as she looked through it. Hoping to find some light on how to connect with you. Din had gathered supplies from the Crest, things you may want once he managed to find you and rescue you.Your armor and more of your clothing, the first things he packed into your bag. An insistence for you to never leave the ship without the pauldrons again that he would plead with you until you conceded. People would be less likely to confront you with the tell-tale signet of a clan and the Mandalorian armor. But then again, he never planned to stray far from you outside of the ship. He knew you were capable, more than capable, but he…he wouldn’t be able to handle loosing you again if he was able to get you back.

When he got you back, he argued against the self-depreciating and negative thoughts that were attempting to consume him.

The ship was in hyperspace, a three-day trip ahead of them to make it to the mid rim coordinates of your home world. Neither had been there but knew of the inhabitants being an uneven mix of humans and a reptilian race. Oceans and sprawling fields of tall grass making up most of the environment. It was a moderately size planet, had seen bases for both the Resistance and the Empire in it’s time. Though the more recent had been the former. Most likely spurred on by your suspected return to what you knew in the wake of the Temple’s attack. An event in your life that you had yet to open up completely about, allowing him small glimpses before it became to much to talk about. But it was easy to connect the fall of Mandalore and the fall of your Temple being equally devastating, an attempt to take out entire cultures.

“I…I made a mistake.”

“…how big of a mistake?” Cara didn’t look up from the journal in her hands, not wanting to make the armored man feel cornered. Allowing him the privacy and space to turn away from the question should he want to, feel the need to.

“She fled the ship, to get some space. She must’ve been distracted, too worked up to keep her head up and on alert. It…I’m the reason she was taken.”

“Mando, you know that’s not true.” Cara tried to placate him, knowing he carried a lot of guilt over what had happened, whatever it had been to cause all of this. “She didn’t have her saber?”

“She does- did. She.. they drugged her. Like you said, it’s the only way to take her down.”

“Wait, this looks like Basic. They’re the only characters written differently…”

Din was hovering, making out the words on his own.

“Betrothed.”

He recalled the same words falling from your lips, the reason that prompted you to make an escape. You hadn’t wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s property. The name was in Basic as well, something you didn’t want to forget lest they come after you themselves. A shadow of your past hovering over you and hidden in the back of your mind as you set out on your own, determined to hide yourself away to prevent anyone from having power over you. Of belonging to someone, anyone ever again.

And yet…you had so readily agreed in his commitment to you, knowing that was the only way Din would be able to share in your affections and wants. Mandalorian religion and culture strictly forbade the removal of one’s helmet unless it was with family, with a spouse, with children of the same clan. To do so outside of those conditions would result in the label of an apostate. Striped of their involvement in the lifestyle and Creed. It was a serious thing you should hold reservations about, with your past.

And while he hadn’t pushed the parameters of it….he had wanted to. For you, for himself, to share himself with you in the way that you had felt safe enough to voice. The realization that you had agreed to such an all-encompassing thing, being with him made him reflect. Why were you willing to do so with him, for him? He was just a bounty hunter, one who had actively sought you out and intended to turn you into the very person who had stolen you away. Sold you like an object to someone for their wants and needs, to fill a space in their life whichever way they commanded it. He had been of the same mind when first encountering you, seeking you out for a trade of currency.

Din was not a good man, though he tried to be for his people. But being a good man to his people, being the sole provider for his covert allowed him to be fast and loose with what it meant to be good in order to do so. What did it matter if the person whose puck he had was truly guilty of the accusations calling for their surrender if it allowed him to delivery credits and supplies to his people? What did it matter if the job warranted for the person he was tracking to be delivered dead or alive and he chose to kill them based on the simple notion of them running and it allowed him to bring a ration of meals to his people?

What had he ever done to deserve someone such as yourself willing to let down your walls and allow him entrance? He had been at internal war, whether or not to turn you in the second you spoke Mando’a to him, healed him, saved him from that second raging Mudhorn even when you had to reason to do so. You easily could’ve let the cut on his arm fester, let the rampaging creature take out his already spent form.

But…it wouldn’t have been easy, he knows now. How you cared for those around you: from friendly vendors to women you seemed to see yourself in, to children who are simply hungry and have no choice but to steal, to ad’ika in bounds and waves, to him. The constant swivel of your head while out in crowds and among people, sousing out threats and people who may be on the lookout for you. The swiftness with which you turn into a fighter when threatened and your freedom is at stake.

The thoughts swirled around and around in Din’s mind as the ship traveled toward your home world. The last known location of your mother and potentially holding clues as to who she struck a deal with. The now dead bounty hunter not having gotten a name, only concerned with the exchange of credits for your capture. No questions, no concerns. The quarry’s capture the only thing that mattered. The man had taken the job and completed it. Had died as a result of it.

Din had been like that too, not that long ago.

Could have easily been the one being imprisoned while someone who cared about a quarry sought answers and revenge. But he was the one realizing how fragile things where, had been since taking two fobs from Karga and altering the very meaning of his life.

Something about the wide, beseeching eyes of the child had activated his heart. Opened it up and made room for the small being to fit into. The uncertainty he had sensed from the child once its eyes had looked into his own, spurring a sense of concern from the armored man over its life well beyond the need to deliver it to the client healthy and alive.

“She asked for something, for a…kiss.”

“But…your helmet.” Cara weakly argued, knowing how strongly he adhered to his Creed. Not even removing it in the face of grave injury and offered aid. Not even removing it in the threat of death.

“I know,” His words were carried on a heavy sigh. He sat heavily in the seat beside her, the hull holding a small set up for longer travels. Ad’ika crawled from her lap and over the table, situating himself in Din’s arms, claws reaching for the helmet to try and sooth the man. “She- she called me ‘jatne vod’ before she fled from the ship.”

The cracking of his voice was not lost through the modulator.

“She must’ve felt so rejected, so unwanted. And I- I just stumbled over my words so badly she ran.”

“She knows you care about her, Din.”

The sound of his name from her lips, so different from when you spoke it, whispered it, breathed it, was too much for him.

“I really messed up, Cara.” He admitted with shaky words.

“We’ll fix it, I’ll help you fix it.”

K’ath was a beautiful planet. All endlessly sprawling ocean, sandy beaches, and small clustered villages.

Simple. Life here was simple. Crops being tended to, the oceans being fished in, no signs of the war other than an abandoned base on the edge of the largest cluster.

Din hadn’t ever wanted to enter the planet’s atmosphere, to step foot on the sandy land. It was a place that held painful memories for you, the crumbling of a life you had been hopeful to return to in the wake of losing everything that ever meant anything to you. A hopeful refuge after a life of hardships, but it had only provided you with more. The stripping of your freedom and the control over your own body.

It was simple enough to find your home, your mother’s home. Asking after the armorer, claiming he was in need of repairs. A Kath woman had been kind enough to try and use her broken Basic to tell them where he could find the store front, but that no one had been tended to it for some time now. That the woman who was known to run it could be approached at her personal residence. That she was kind and could be persuaded to help even though she’d long retired from working.

It was empty, signs of disuse obvious from the outside. Tall reeds of grass sprouting up at the foundation, the windows thick with grime. It was humble, despite the ways in which Din had seen you return from a shop front, a bag heavy with credits in your possession. A skill that you learned from your mother lending you a way to support yourself and indulge in all the things you had to go without for so long.

There was only one transmission on the communication radio set up in the corner that Cara had rushed to once the door had creaked open. Sand was collected in the corners, another sign that no one had occupied the residence for some time now.

“She’s on Maldovan.” Cara shuffled into the bedroom from the main one, aware that the man was focused on something she couldn’t see. He was as still as a statue, peering into the darkness of the doorway in front of him.

The visor allowing him to take in the room you had been held captive in. There was bedding on the ground, no frame for it to sit upon. A chair on the opposite side, close to the door. No windows, no other entrance or exit. A small room that was bathed in darkness lest someone bring a lantern into the room with them.

“I don’t know that planet.” Din admitted, shifting from where he was standing at the doorway of what had been the locked room hidden behind a large wardrobe to look over his shoulder at her. The shifting of it had popped a drawer open, revealing needles and syringes, vials that had been long emptied. All signs that this was truly the home you had been kept in.

“Is that-?”

“Where San was kept locked up, yeah.” He was surging forward, hands reaching for the chains secured to the walls above the bedding and he pulled. Using all the strength he had to rip them from where they were bolted, the wall cracking and splintering as he did so. The heavy chains fell to the floor with a clang, metal that sounded eerily familiar as it collapsed on itself. Kneeling down, Din reached for one of them, the cuff in his hand heavy and he sucked in a breath as he realized why such a simple contraption had been able to hold you: the chains were made of pure beskar.

Far too heavy for your drug addled body to fight against.

Programmed to shock you should you move too much, the sensors lining the inside of the cuffs telling him as much. With a shout he tore the second, lower set of chains from the wall, throwing them across the room in his rage.

The image of you shackled to the wall of this dark room, consumed with thoughts of ending your life kept him on his knees, forced his arms to support him as he crumpled to the ground completely. His modulator crackling with the heavy breaths.

Surging up, he activated bright flames to flow from his vambrace. Intent on tearing down the entire house to the last stud and beam. Cara was quick to retreat back outside, letting the man do what he felt was necessary. She stood behind him as he made his way outside, the structure entirely lit up and beginning to collapse in on itself.

Dark smoke whipped around in the breeze coming off of the nearby shoreline, doing nothing to quell the licking flames. Cara was doing her best to sooth an equally agitated child in the bad slung across her shoulders. Though she knew it would take time for them both to come back from seeing the evidence of your heavy past.

They watched as it turned from burning wood, the outer stone walls crumbling from the heat that had been trapped inside, to a pile of rubble and ash.

He knew it was against the Creed, that it was a sin to leave behind something of his people. But the beskar that had contained you glowed hot amongst the ash, left behind as he walked away from the plot of land and back to the ship.

“The holonet has little information on Maldovan. Citing that it’s a desert planet with white sands, crystalline oceans that bring in a lot of visitors.” Din announced as he exited the control room, the ship constructed of only that and one other room off the hold space. One level, but enough for them to be comfortable traveling. Cara had tried to get Din to retire to the room once they returned to the ship and left K’ath behind, but he had insisted he was fine. Though the door to the cockpit had been closed and locked for hours now, well into the trip since the ship had been jumped into hyperspace.

“And their walled city.” Cara added, as she brought up a hologram of the planet to life from her cuff. She had reached out to Karga, asking him for any aid he had to provide them on the place they were traveling to.

“Yes… and if her mother knows about you then it will be hard to make a plan. Your armor isn’t exactly common and I’m sure she’s told the royal guard to keep an eye out for you.”

“Haran.” He cursed, knowing Cara’s words were true.

Shit.

It was entirely possible, and he wouldn’t put it past the woman he personally knew nothing about, going off of the words of her that you had shared with him. But surely the only city on the planet wouldn’t go out of their way to screen the many tourists that sought out the picturesque world.

Time seemed to be moving slowly and far too fast all at the same time. Thoughts continued to consume Din, all the possibilities of what could occur, what had already occurred making him feel like he was a child once again who knew nothing of the world or how it worked. The ship’s system beeping before it shifted smoothly from traveling through hyperspace and back to sublight settings.

The planet in view was covered in vast expanses of white sand and bright blue. An ocean planet as much as a desert one. It was small, a moon to a larger planet visible in the sky even within the atmosphere as the ship descended. The only city was surrounded by a large wall, protection from the two outcroppings that looked to be a racetrack and the well-established tourist destination on either side.

Maldovan was known as a resort destination, an entire smaller sector off set from the main city. The sector looked to be abundant with hotels, spas, shopping, anything and everything to keep individuals occupied and a steady supply of credits flowing into the local economy.

Cara had suggested she be the one to guide the ship through the planet’s atmosphere, handle the communication with the intake group, and land the smaller ship into the hangar. She suggested he stay behind on the ship while she registered the ship, paying the station fee for several days. And when she returned, there was a frown on her face and a worried furrow to her brow.

The woman was frustrated, that much was obvious. Din merely watched her as she closed the ramp, turning to him and explaining what information she had gathered during the short interaction.

There were two glaringly obvious problems:

Everyone wore light, flowing coverings and outfits in order to gain access into the main part of the city.

And there were wanted posters depicting Din’s armored form.

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dividers: by the lovely @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 5)

I'll admit, I had this finished a while ago, but couldn't post until now. I have a confession to make... my long term boyfriend of 6 years split with me a couple days ago. And it's been... hard, to say the least. I'm really hoping this wont deter me from continuing to write (especially since this story is kinda romantic, but also isn't? There's deep feelings involved xD) I hope maybe writing can maybe help me as it serves as a distraction? I honestly don't know... All I can ask for is patience as I deal with this. If I find I need a break I'll be sure to let you guys know. But I guess for now, please keep me in your thoughts if you can. Or if anyone wants to swap stories I'm more than happy to share. ꨄ But ok. Enough sadness. This chapter was a joy to write before all the bs happened. I hope it can make you smile! And as always, please feel free to comment your thoughts! SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You settle into hotel life, and whip up Alastor's fave dish! But some drama ensues when you get a little too friendly with a certain Spider Demon~ Word Count: 4.4 K Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had developed quite a routine here during your time at the hotel, and you certainly found your days a lot busier than you had intended.

Your morning coffee with Alastor that usually blended into breakfast, then joining him in his tower for his broadcasts. He’d always pour two glasses of rye whisky and sit with you, asking for your thoughts afterwards. You’d discuss what you liked and didn’t like, and were surprised to learn he took criticism well (other than the occasional eye twitch). You’d bounce off new topics for future shows together before wrapping up and heading back down to the kitchen for the lunch rush.

After lunch was usually when Charlie would want to round everybody up. Either discussing how to make the hotel more liveable, how to recruit more sinners, or various exercises to improve everyone’s character. Sometimes these meetings were very boring and you’d have to pinch yourself constantly to stay awake. But for the most part they were fun, and you found yourself actually enjoying spending time with everyone. Especially goofing around with Angel and Husk, which usually resulted in Vaggie snapping at you all as you choke back laughter. Sometimes you would catch Alastor watching you with an unreadable expression, but you didn’t think anything of it. 

When that would wrap up, it was time to whip up dinner. You managed to figure out everyone’s favourite foods, and every Friday you decided you’d rotate through and make someone’s special  dish for them. Everyone enjoyed Friday dinners, always trying to guess what everyone liked, make bets on who was next, and were especially pleased if it was their night. It wasn’t much, but their praise always made you secretly feel warm and bubbly inside. 

Finally, after cleaning everything up and ending your shift, you’d have some spare time. Depending on how the day went, you would either read and have a quiet night to yourself, or just completely pass out straight away. 

Before you knew it, a month had flown before your eyes; bringing you into the present.

You knew you had no reason to be so nervous. Angel had loved his lasagna dish last week, and previously Charlie loved the pizza you had made (even if others had picked off the pineapple in disgust). You had proven you were a good chef since working here. But this Friday meal in particular… this one was different. It was Alastor’s. Your closest friend. And you knew just how important this particular meal was. It wasn’t just a dish, it was a memory. A way to remember his mother, and you had learned very quickly just how much she meant to him. 

Your heart was fluttering nervously as you put the jambalaya out on the large dining table. No one was there yet, but you could hear the chitter of excited demons coming closer to you, so you knew they were on their way. You always tried to make Friday’s dinner special, it was the one meal where you all sat and ate together. Kind of like a little family. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart fluttering warmly at the thought. You went back to the kitchen to grab the cheddar biscuits, your mind wandering back to Alastor. You shouldn't be overthinking this, it’s just a stupid dinner. Did his opinion really matter that much to you?

You re-enter the dining room, and your eyes immediately locked with the demon in question. Alastor’s smile seemed to brighten the moment he saw you, but his smile only made your hands sweaty.

…… Yes, yes his opinion really did matter that much. You really wanted to make a good impression. 

“Ooooh and ya baked fresh biscuits??” Angel had zipped up beside you, eyeing the plate of goodies in your hands, “ya really know how ta spoil a demon Baby Cakes!” His fingers danced over a biscuit, causing you to snap out of your hold with Alastor and give Angel a quick slap on the wrist. He zipped his hand away in mock horror, making you snort a moment.

“You know the rules; no eating ‘till everyone’s here,” You scold him, but you can’t help but smile; you could never really be angry with him. Angel groaned dramatically, hugging himself with his four arms.

“You’re a cruel mistress y/n; makin’ a cutie like me practically starve to death! Jus’ look at me! I’m witherin’ away!” he leans up against you, arching his back as his full weight pressed on you. You let out a single laugh as you tried to maintain your hold on the plate and not fall over. He continued to groan weakly as his one arm grasped the air above him and another flopped over his eyes. 

Wow. Someone give this guy an award. No wonder he was in show business. 

You laugh again at the dramatics and roll your eyes. Finally, you sighed and grabbed a biscuit, offering it to the Spider Demon. Angel peeked over and immediately lit up, grabbed it eagerly before standing up straight, miraculously recovering from his ‘near death’. He took a deep whiff of the warm bread before smiling back at you. 

“Yarra real doll toots~” he gives you a flirty wink to which you shake your head in amusement. Always the charmer this one. 

“Yeah yeah, well, just don’t tell the others. Or else they might think you’re my favourite~!” You swing your hips to him and give him a playful hip bump, winking right back. He laughed as the nudge pushed him to the side, using the momentum to walk to his seat. But as he sauntered away, he looked back and grinned mischievously.

“Well maybe they should~!” he called back, doing a little suggestive shoulder shimmy and wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help your snort. Cheeky thing. 

You knew it was all in good fun; teasing and play-flirting had become your thing. He was like the gal-pal you had never had since coming to Hell, and you could tell he was happy to have a girlie here at the hotel. You knew his real bestie was some demon named Cherri (which he INSISTED you all had to go out one night), but having another chica just a couple rooms down from his own was fun and convenient. And you were happy to be that friend for him if it meant slumber parties and beauty routines. 

You felt someone’s eyes on you, and you snapped out of your bubbly thoughts. Alastor was standing in the same spot he was before, not having moved an inch. He was still smiling, but this time it felt a little more strained. More forced. And his eye twitched ever so slightly. You also noticed his grip tight around his microphone. He caught you looking at him and immediately turned away, beginning to walk back to his seat with an unreadable expression. 

… That was weird. 

Before you could even begin to process, the rest of the gang entered the room. They all gave you a greeting in their own quirky ways as they arrived and made their way to their seats. Angel shoved the rest of the biscuit into his mouth to hide any evidence and happily trotted over to Husk. You smiled happily at the arrival of your comrades and set the tray of bread down on the table. Everyone looked at the spread before them and chittered excitedly, impressed with the effort you had put into tonight’s dinner. 

As everyone sat down, you quickly made your way to your seat beside Angel. Before sitting down, you cleared your throat a moment to get everyone’s attention. As the happy chatter died down, you began to speak.

“First off, I’d like to thank everyone for joining in today’s special dinner. Today’s meal is inspired by our very own Facility Manager, Alastor.” Everyone clapped politely and Charlie even gave a small whoop of encouragement. Alastor sat up proudly from his seat at the head of the table, loving the attention he was getting. 

“I’ll admit, I was a bit intimidated with tackling this particular dish, as we’ve all heard him boast about his mother’s recipe.” There were a couple chuckles scattered around the table, everyone very aware of how much he spoke of it. Husk in particular rolled his eyes and muttered quietly in disdain.

“I realize I’ll probably never meet up to her standards,” you look back at Alastor and give a sheepish smile, “but I sincerely hope it’s to your liking.” Alastors smile widened ever so slightly, his hooded gaze softening at your words. 

“My dear,” he marveled, his eyes never leaving yours, “the fact that you were kind enough to take the time to prepare it with me in mind already makes it wonderful.” You felt your hand press up to your chest, your fist curling up tightly near your heart. Alastor always knew what to say to make you feel better. He could be really gentle when he wanted to be. 

“Yea, and not only for ol’ Smiles ‘ere,” Angel spoke up, making you look down at him, “But you’ve made some bitchin’ good meals fer all of us.” he gestured to the crowd, gaining various murmurs of agreement and praise. You looked at everyone and their smiling faces and could feel your chest tightening. 

“Seriously, Sugar, ya freakin’ amazing.” Angel continued, giving you a warm smile. He suddenly grabbed onto his glass and raised it high, giving everyone a cocky grin. “Let’s hear it for y/n ya filthy sinnars!” 

Before you could comprehend, everyone had raised their glasses and gave a cheer of encouragement. You looked out to everyone and their genuine happiness and support, at a loss for words. You had organized all of this simply because you wanted to, but you had to admit, being recognised felt really good. A warmth began to spread into your chest, and a lump formed in your throat. 

It… wow, it had been so long since you’ve had friends like this.

You did your best to blink back tears at the gesture, not expecting to get so emotional over all of this. As you took a moment to acknowledge everyone, your gaze finally turned to Alastor. 

Oddly enough, he wasn’t looking at you, but he was looking at Angel. His eyebrows were tight as his grin stretched in an uncomfortable smile. You could tell he felt your gaze, cause soon his eyes flicked up to you, catching you watching him. In the blink of an eye, his expression softened as he grabbed his own glass, raising it high and giving you a heartening look. You shook the strange feeling from before and smiled back at him, grateful for his appreciation. 

The excitement settled down as everyone started serving themselves, the smell of the cooking becoming too much for everyone to ignore. You finally sat in your chair and reached out for Angel’s hand. The Spider Demon looked to you in surprise for a moment, taking in your smiling face.

“That was really sweet of you to say Angel,” you whispered, your grip on him tightening for a moment. You could feel yourself choking up again. “Seriously… Thank you.” Angel's face softened as he twisted his hand so it could grip on to yours. He began to open his mouth to respond.

In a mere moment, you could feel your chair lurch backwards, a panicked yelp escaping your throat as your hand was ripped out of Angel’s. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing, looking at you in surprise. Angel turned in his seat and looked at you stupidly.

“... What the fuc-?”

Angel didn’t even get a chance to finish his statement as suddenly everyone chairs in your row shifted to the right, causing everyone to cry out and grip onto their seats in fear. Everyone on the other side of the table looked on in disbelief as their friends were shuffled around. 

To your surprise, while everyone shifted right, you slid to your left at lightning speed, the chair scraping loudly on the wooden floor. You suddenly jolted to a stop, and you held on for dear life at the force in which you were moving. Before you could recover, your chair lurched forward, propelling you back to the table and new place setting.

… Right next to Alastor.

You gasped in surprise, your heart racing in shock as you felt your knuckles turning white from gripping the seat so hard. You noticed something flicker beneath you, and your eyes managed to catch something. A shadow with a familiar Cheshire grin shimmied away from the feet of your chair before melting into the shade of the table. 

Your head whipped up to Alastor in disbelief. The Radio Demon had just finished serving himself jambalaya, not even looking in your direction as he tapped the serving spoon against his plate. With a cool expression, he turned his head to you and tilted his head to the side, as if nothing had happened.

“... Jambalaya~?” He pointed the spoon to the pot and looked at you expectantly.

Everyone stared for a moment, the room eerily quiet.

“.......... Alastor what the actual FUCK was that?!” Angel suddenly exploded, clearly very upset that his bestie was now 2 chairs away from him. Everyone else in your row nodded in agreement, perplexed at the sudden change in seating. Alastor didn't turn his head, nor look at Angel. The Radio Demon simply took your plate and began serving you the ride dish, his expression surprisingly calm and attention only on you.

“Just say when dear~”

Your eyes darted from Alastor to Angel, unsure of what to even do or say. Angel’s face scrunched up into a scowl, clearly displeased with being ignored.

“Hey! Freaky Face! I’m talkin’ to ya!” he growled, his hands tightening into fists. Alastor continued to ignore the spider, continuing to serve you as if it was just the two of you in the room. 

“My my, hungry now are we y/n dearest~?” Alastor grinned cheekily. You were still so dumbstruck, your gaze finally fell to your plate and you quickly realized just how full it was getting. Awkwardly looking between Angel and Alastor, you softly murmured a 'w-when'. Alastor gave a hum of approval and tapped the spoon on your plate before setting it back down in front of you. 

“Hah, ok Asshole. I see how it is.” Angel chuckled darkly to himself, “I get it. Ya just hate ta see anyone else gettin’ cozy with our little chef. I’ll admit, I didn’t take ya for the jealous type.”

That seemed to catch Alastors attention.

It was only for a moment, and only you were able to catch it sitting so close to him. But you noticed the Radio Demon’s pupils flash, and his one eyelid twitch as his smile grew dangerously wide. But in an instant, Alastor calmed his expression and was back to his suave self. Taking a breath, he finally turned his head to Angel.

“Oh please.” He drawled, his eyes looking at him with boredom, “I simply figured it only made sense for our wonderful chef to sit next to the demon who inspired tonight’s dish. Wouldn’t you agree y/n~?” He turned his head to you and slowly leaned in, giving you a pleasant smile. You felt your heart leap at suddenly being caught off guard, unsure of what to say.

“I, ah, well-!” 

Everyone's eyes were on you, and you suddenly felt very self conscious. Being put on the spot like this, and feeling as if you had to choose between your two friends, it was becoming very overwhelming. Unbeknownst to you, Charlie looked at you with such pity, and felt her own blood begin to boil at the situation these men put you in. Placing her hands on the table, the Princess of Hell rose from her chair, her face suddenly very authoritative.

“Both of you need to stop this nonsense.” She stated, looking down at both Angel and Alastor disapprovingly. “Y/n put a lot of effort into making this dinner special; and I won't allow you to ruin it over something so petty!” She continued to glare at them judgingly before turning her attention to you, giving you a quick comforting smile and nod. You felt your shoulders relax and smile back at her, feeling grateful for her support. She really was growing into her royal title. 

Angel had his arms crossed and was clearly still pissed, but there was a mix of shame in his eyes after being called out. Alastor’s face remained surprisingly calm, turning to look over at you. He noticed your posture and expression, his eyes calculating as he assessed the situation. Finally he turned back to the table.

“Our Princess is right of course~!” He smiled, lifting a hand and placing it on your shoulder, “I would hate for all of dear y/n’s efforts to be neglected. She has worked so hard; let us forget about all this nonsense and enjoy this wonderful meal~!” His eyes slid to Angels and gave him a hard stare. The Spider demon glared right back, his jaw tight and eyes furrowed with hatred. But after glancing at both you and Charlie, and seeing your faces, he finally grumbled in defeat. With a huff, Angel reached for another cheddar biscuit and slouched in his seat, ending the feud.  

You finally released the breath you were holding as everyone shrugged their shoulders and returned their focus to their plates. You felt Alastors grip on your shoulder tighten for a moment, making you turn to him. 

“Are you quite alright my dear?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in question. Despite the calm look on his face, you knew he wouldn't be asking if he wasn't genuinely concerned. You sighed and felt a smile spread across your face, giving his hand a pat in reassurance. 

“Yeah, I’m ok Al,” you started, beginning to shake your head and grin as you thought about the shenanigans he pulled earlier. “But seriously, there’s no need to be so jealous. If you want to sit beside me, just say so.” You looked up to him playfully, your previously conflicted emotions melting away. Alastor stared at you for a moment, his eye’s lidded and giving you a blank stare before turning to his plate. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he picked up his utensils and was suddenly very focused on his meal.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about y/n~” he replied. He scooped up a spoonful of rice and shrimp. You could feel your eyes crinkling as you watched him knowingly.

“Uh huh~” you smirk. 

The Radio Demon ignored you and took his first bit of jambalaya. Your grin slowly began to fall as you watched him pull the spoon out from his lips, your previous nerves from earlier settling in again. You watched his expression with baited breath as he tasted your cooking. 

His appearance didn’t change much; his eyes looking down at the food beneath him, eyes flickering over the plate. After a moment, his eyelids sank down closed as he continued to chew, allowing all of his senses to focus on the flavor. You could feel your leg begin to jiggle anxiously; seriously it was sad how badly you wanted this man’s approval. 

The demon lifted his head and gulped his mouthful down, eyes still closed and lips in a small pressed smile. You held your breath as you waited for his verdict. Alastor’s smile grew wider as he lowered his head back to the plate, opening his eyes and looking fondly at the dish below him. 

“Well well~” he chuckled, finally turning his head to you and giving you an impressed look, “I have to admit, this is as close as anyone has ever gotten.” 

You felt your heart stop.

Is he shitting you right now?

“Of course,” he continued, scooping another spoonful and inspecting it, “it is missing a few things; she’d usually add sausage as well, and probably a bit more spice to it.” he looked fond for a moment, seeming to reminisce to days gone by.

“Nevertheless, it does still taste like home~” He took another bite and once again closed his eyes, savoring the flavors. 

You felt lighter than a feather. 

Of course you knew you’d never get it exactly right. But holy crap you were so relieved that it met his expectations. You were so giddy you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from squealing, practically doing a little happy dance in your chair. Satisfied with Alastors response, you grabbed onto your own spoon and began to happily dig in.

You were so carefree in your own little world, you didn’t even notice Alastor sneaking a glance at you. Or how his lips curled up ever so slightly at your antics before turning back to his plate. 

The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. Everyone gorged themselves until they were ready to burst, and complimented you on such a flavorful meal. You were so flustered with all the praise; despite the little quarrel that had happened earlier, you couldn’t have been more pleased with how the night went. And you felt more confident with your cooking now that you had Alastor’s official stamp of approval.

The group of demons eventually began to trickle out of the room, ready to immediately flop onto the closest comfortable furniture they could find. You giggled at their behavior and wished you could do the same, but you still had to clean up before you could clock off work. With a final stretch, you turn back to the table and are surprised to see Alastor still in his chair, leaning back comfortably and eyes closed.

“Truly a wonderful evening y/n dearest,” he sighed, opening a single eye to look at you, “There’s something about dining with a group of folks that brings out a certain camaraderie, don’t you think~?” You sighed happily as you approached the table.

“Honestly, it was something I had forgotten I had missed since coming to Hell,” you smiled, beginning to stack the plates and collecting utensils. “I’m just happy to do my part in getting demons to open up more and earn everyone’s trust.”

Alastor said nothing in return, simply watching you as you accumulated the dirty dishes. His eyebrow quirked up before he finally raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Shadows emerged from under the table, making you gasp and almost drop your stack of plates. The same shaded goons from your first week at the hotel appeared beside you and began collecting all the dishes. You begin to tumble over words of protests, but they didn’t pay attention to you as they continued to clean, one even grabbing the stack in your hands and waddling to the kitchen.

“Alastor!” you laugh, turning to him in bewilderment, “Call your minions off; seriously I can clean all of this up myself.” But the Radio Demon merely waved a hand to you as he rose from his seat.

“Don’t bother arguing with me my dear,” he sassed, “You’ve done more than enough tonight; consider this my way of thanking you for a marvelous feast.” 

You sighed at him, slightly annoyed. But you had to admit, you were grateful for his help. Today had surprisingly taken its toll on you, physically and emotionally, and you were so tired from it all. You smiled up at him, rocking back and forth on your feet sheepishly.

“... Thank you Al. Honestly.” you paused for a moment, thinking about everything he had done for you in the month you’d been here. And asking for nothing in return. It was out of character for him.

“I just…” you sighed, making Alastor tilt his head quizzically to you. “I just want to say I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me. You gave me this job, helped me settle in and feel comfortable, and because of it all I even got to make new friends…” You saw Alastors eyes narrow for a moment and you had to bite back the knowing grin. You cleared your throat and continued.

“But I hope you know,” you hummed, “that I’ll always consider you my first real friend down here. And that I’m really grateful to have been given this chance to get close to you.”

Alastor looked at you long and hard for a moment, the air between you calm and quiet. His static sound shuffled for a second before he finally straightened his back and stood taller, his lips pressed together into a large smile. The red demon glided over to you, and softly patted your head, shaking his head in amusement.

“Ohhh y/n, y/n, y/n,” he sighed, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow, “I do often wonder how someone like yourself ended up down here.” Now it was your turn to cock an eyebrow as you gave him a cheeky smile.

“Al, you know exactly how I got down here.”

“Ah, that’s right.” A chuckle escaped his lips, and you knew for a fact he still found your death thoroughly entertaining. “By the way, you didn’t happen to sneak anything into our meal today, now did you~?” He gave you an impish grin. You burst out laughing.

“You asshole!” you guffawed, shoving his hand on your head away playfully, to which the demon snickered evilly. As your laughter simmered down, looked at you a moment before tilting his head up, eyes closed.

“I still stand by my previous statement,” he mused. “The type of folks in this realm are not worthy of such kindness. You should be careful as to whom you trust around here.” He opened his eyes, and his crimson gaze fell to yours. His expression shifted into a serious one at his last statement, making your grin falter for a moment. But only for a moment. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I have you around then, isn’t it?” You smiled, taking a step towards him.

Alastors gaze widened a moment, his eyes flickering over your face. It wasn’t often that you caught the Radio Demon off guard, but the rare moments when you did, you couldn’t help but feel a little pride. Finally, Alastor began to chuckle, shaking his head at you again. After taking a breath, he looked back down at you, a surprising fondness donning his face.

“Hmmm, I suppose it is~”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

..... Alastor doesn't like to share ¬‿¬ Fun fact: Angel like's to give you food-related nicknames. Baby Cakes, Sugar, Puddin', Honey Bunz, ect.

FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT

[sg-l]

NSFW Drabble・Satoru Gojo

Fandom・Jujutsu Kaisen Character(s)・Satoru Gojo Tags・femdom!Reader, sub!Gojo, praise kink, body worship, sex toy(s) usage, manga spoilers, edging, prostate stimulation, handjob, unedited

by clicking [read more] you are agreeing to being 18+ when viewing this content

With your legs linked around his waist, Satoru had little place to go even if he wanted to. Though there was really no place he'd rather be than right between your legs in the very heat of the moment.

"That's my good boy..." Your voice stirs the goosebumps prickling all over his skin when you whisper to him. Just that isn't enough though to make him feel desired. Drawing your fingertips with the lightest of touches over his bare arms. Your finger pads dip down to the curves of his muscles with ease and familiarity. Feeling as well as hearing him stifle the throaty moan bubbling in his chest. Just as your touch would come down past his elbow, there's a moment of hesitation as well as Satoru stiffening in your lap. One hand continuing down to his forearm, while the other touches nothing. The rest of his arm missing below his elbow, no longer to be stroked by you ever again.

Before he's able to shift even a centimeter more, you press your lips against his neck and encase him in your arms. Hugging him just as tight as your legs were doing. Keeping Satoru's back pressed to your bare chest until the man had nothing left to do but melt into your touch.

"My very best boy." You heap on the sweet words. Not letting his missing appendage get in the way of adoring his body as it was meant to be.

Satoru's head rolls back against your shoulder. Limp in your lap as some things never change. As much of a sucker for neck kisses as he had been from day one.

It wasn't the only thing he was weak against though. Your legs linked around his waist in part to keep him close to you and savor every inch of him. But also allowing you to keep his legs parted as the new fun toy that had started it all remained snuggly slipped inside him.

"I'm going to turn it on now Satoru..." A warning he was very much ready for.

The slow rotating wheel of the machine began at it's lowest setting. Urging the slippery shaft of the dildo deeper inside him than it had been. Taking from Satoru a truly pathetic whine. His entire body tensing in your lap but nothing was as wonderful as the sight of his cock jumping to life.

"Fuuuuuck..." Satoru's breath hot against your cheek with that exhale of pure ecstasy, "Turn it up." He whined.

"Don't tempt me 'toru..." Your finger hovered over the next setting. Prep or not, you knew he could take it. Still you resisted the urge to fuck him senseless on the handy machine. Instead savoring the sight of his cock slowly swelling and growing until it stood at attention.

Leaking purple head glistening with slick precum. All pouring out down the underside of his cock as the silicone toy abused the sweet spot up against his prostate. Satoru's whining growing with his hard on. A lost arm would not stop him wiggling and writing in your lap. Buckling down on your hold on his waist. Your arms curled around his torso but with a little surprise in your hand.

"S-Shit-" Was all Satoru could managed through clenched teeth when he felt the gooey insides of his favorite handheld pocket pussy engulf his cock. The two of you no stranger to staring down at his cock a beautiful shade of red inside the walls of the crystal clear cock sleeve. Stretching it's gummy walls to accommodate his length.

You weren't about to run the battery out of the new toy just yet. Satoru could argue that was what recharging them were for. But you didn't have that kind of patience and wanted to leave him a drained mess before the battery gave up.

With a wet squelch of the lube inside the toy. You squish the outside of the toy around his cock with a firmer grip before slowly beginning to pump his dick to the rhythm of the machine fucking him. What lube that didn't stay within the tight confines of the pocket pussy were simply a messy drooling steam of lube dripping down his balls and adding to the mess around his entrance.

Already sliding into him so easy, it was impossible for you now to not want to turn up the speed. Cranking it up not one but two notches. The arc in Satoru's back was evidence enough that the positioning was perfect. Curved tip of the toy no longer only lightly kissing his prostate. Satoru left begging for a breath as his walls clench around the toy you purposedly turned up. Mess only growing as he has no control over the toy inside him or the one you wrapped around his cock.

"Gonna drain my pretty boy dry...you'll gimme all your cum won't you 'toru?" Your lips dancing against his cheek when you mumbled your sweet words to him. Hand still moving up and down his swollen cock as the wet noises grew. Instead of panting and pleading all the man could do was crane his neck to the side to stifle his noises against your lips. Deep passionate kiss as you taste the desperation on his tongue. Twirling around your own as spit seeped around the corners of your lips. All until the strongest sorcerer alive just couldn't hold back.

Tip of the crystal clear pocket pussy growing cloudy. Then beginning completely filled white. Satoru's cum pooled around his sensitive tip head and all in the see through sex toy. His orgasm not only being ridden out by the ribbed walls of the toy you continued to stroke him with. But the inhuman speed that never faltered as the machine before him fucked him at the same exact mind numbing pace as his orgasm rode itself out.

Kiss broken by his panting. Satoru looked like he was going to try and speak to the best of his abilities after such an orgasm. But like the saint you were, you turned the machine up just as he was about to speak. Causing a ripple through his toned body. Convulsing with the wave of nearing overstimulation. It wasn't bad though as his pretty blue eyes fluttered shut and Satoru visibly tried to wiggle himself more down on the machine abusing his sensitive little prostate for the time being.

He looked so blissfully cute fucked out on the machine. Your hand squeezing and milking the drops of cum out of his length. Collecting it in the pocket pussy until you felt him starting to go limp inside it. Only then did you pull off the soiled toy and admire the sight as his cum drooled out of the mouth of the sex toy. Dripping down on his spent cock. Instead of cleaning it up though you let the rest drip down onto the shaft of the toy burying itself inside him. Satoru's own cum blessing the dildo still being fucked into him. A slippery nasty mess but one you couldn't help but love. Loving every inch of his body just like you always had. And more than ready to watch his own cum get fucked back into him just like it should be.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Lean On Me

Kix x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're out dancing with your friends when you sustain a knee injury and Kix comes to your rescue.

Pairing: Kix x Fem!Reader

Characters: Kix

Tags & Warnings: 18+, established relationship, alcohol, mention of past injury, minor injury, domestic fluff, romance, a little angst, hurt/comfort, mild suggestive themes, non-sexual shower scene, implied nudity

Word Count: 6.1k

Author's Note: Due to an unexpected knee injury, my fic writing schedule has been thrown out of whack and I wrote this instead of the ten other fics in my queue. Still a bingo square down, so I don’t feel too bad. Fic is based on a real injury that happened to me four days ago. How the reader got the injury is how I got the injury. Self-indulgent, because I wanted Kix to kiss it and make it better, but it got away from me. As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Kix

It’s a gorgeous summer evening as you bustle around your apartment while getting ready for your night out. You playfully slide across the linoleum kitchen floor in your socks and stop abruptly at the calendar hanging on the wall. You grab a red marker from the adjacent drawer, pull the cap off with your teeth, and cross off today’s date. You flip backwards through the calendar and look at the sea of red adorning the previous pages and let out a small sigh.

Each red slash marks one rotation of Kix’s deployment. It’s already been sixty rotations since he shipped out, but a smile creeps onto your lips as you flip the calendar back and focus on the large red circle four rotations away. Kix had sent word two weeks prior that the 501st were finally coming home and he gave you an estimated date of his return. You’re excited for him to come home, but each rotation seems to linger longer than the last as you wait impatiently. 

Nevertheless, at least for tonight, you’ve decided not to dwell on how much you miss him. Instead, you’re preparing yourself for a fabulous girl’s night out. You and your friends have been planning this excursion for a couple weeks now and you’re thrilled to finally get out, party, and unwind. It’s not something you do often, especially without Kix, but this night was just for the girls, so no boys are allowed. It’s only about you and your friends having a good time.

As the time for you to leave approaches, you pull off your loungewear and slide on a playful emerald green dress that you purchased for the occasion. It’s not sexy by any means, but it’s fun and perfect for a night out with friends. You slip on your favorite pair of flats and sit in front of your mirror to style your hair while humming a happy little tune. You adorn your ears with a simple pair of earrings and give yourself a little spritz of your white gardenia perfume.

As you finish up your look for the evening, you hear a knock at your apartment door. You wonder if it’s the neighbor down the hall. She’s an elderly woman that you help out every once and a while. She’s really sweet and loves to tell stories of her younger days when you get lonely. You announce that you’re coming and make your way to the door. You press the button to open it and your eyes grow wide at the unexpected sight before you, a clone trooper in full armor. 

“Kix!” you exclaim as you throw yourself into his outstretched arms. You nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe in his musk and vetiver cologne that instantly intoxicates you. 

“Hello beautiful,” he purrs while dropping his duffle to squeeze you tightly, pressing a desperate kiss on your neck while savoring your alluring floral scent.  

You lean your head back to look up at his face, his amber eyes just as warm and piercing as you remember. “I wasn’t expecting you,” you admit with excitement.

“We got back a little early,” Kix explains. He gives you a soft kiss on the cheek and you smile. “I wanted to surprise you.” He leans you back a little, running his hands up and down your bare arms, while his eyes gaze upon your dolled up body. “This isn’t for me is it?” he inquires with a chuckle.

“Oh, this?” you look down at yourself and remember what you were doing before he came home. “I was going out with the girls tonight, but I don’t have to!” you quickly rebut. “I can stay here.” As much as you have been waiting for this night out, you are completely ready to ditch all of your plans to spend it with the fine man standing in front of you.

“Out of the question,” he shakes his head. “Go out with your friends and have a good time. I’ll be here when you get back.” He presses a tender kiss to your forehead and a small whine escapes your lips when he lets you go. He picks up his duffle and heads into the apartment, sighing in relief at finally being home. You lean against the doorway, smiling as you watch him instantly meld back into domestic life as if he never left.

“If you keep staring at me like that, your eyes are going to get stuck,” Kix jests without turning around. He can feel your gaze resting on him and knows you won’t leave without a little nudge. You huff through your nose at his intuition and grab your purse from the stand next to the door. You amble over to give Kix a goodbye kiss and he swats your butt when you turn to leave. You whip around and shoot him a surprised look, but he just smirks. “Get out of here!”

You shake your head at his playfulness and head out the door with a small wave of your hand. The place where you’re meeting your friends isn’t too far, so you decide to walk since the evening air is pleasant. You take your time strolling along the sidewalk, thinking only about what you’re going to do when you get home. You want to stay in the present and have a good time with your friends, but it proves difficult knowing your handsome man is waiting for you at home.

You finally make it to the meeting spot, a little dance club that has great reviews. Your friends see you coming and greet you with excited waves. You quicken your steps to close the distance and exchange hugs all around. You enter the club with your friends and make your way to the bar first. You order something light, a simple sangria. The goal is to have fun, not get wasted, and you want to enjoy your night out and have a blast with your girlfriends. 

The rhythmic beats emanating from the speakers vibrate under your feet and traverse up your legs as you wait for your drink. You close your eyes and let it encapsulate all of your senses. You love the deep bass and the way it makes your body feel. The way it makes your heart beat faster in anticipation and excitement. The way it rumbles into your core in the same manner as Kix’s voice when he moans sweet nothings of desire against your body. 

You’re pulled out of your daydream by a clink of glass when your sangria is placed down in front of you. Feeling slightly embarrassed at your lewd thoughts, your face flushes pink as you thank the bartender. You take a few sips of the cold, fruity, wine drink and let out a sweet sigh. It’s refreshing and helps cool you down in the hot club. You leisurely sip on your drink as you chat with your friends at the bar, occasionally falling into a fit of laughter from your growing buzz.

Your ears perk up when you hear the bass of your favorite song. Your heart races, and you grab one of your friends to pull them out onto the dancefloor with you. You sway your bodies to the beat, waving your arms over your heads, laughing, and smiling at how silly you’re being. The song switches, and now you’re jumping up and down in a crowd of people doing the same. Everyone’s energy is feeding off each other and you jump around with reckless abandon.

As the song continues, you pant heavily as sweat droplets disperse from your body at your rapid movements. You slow down as you feel your calves burning from all the jumping, and it becomes a sudden reminder that you need to exercise more often, because clearly you're out of shape. You finally stop jumping to catch your breath, and you bend over to rub your screaming muscles. You straighten yourself up and see your friends wave you over to where they’re sitting. 

You plop down in the booth with an exhaustive exhale and order another sangria to help you cool off. Your friends ordered some finger foods for everyone to pick at throughout the night and you dive into the greasiest and saltiest looking thing that was brought out. You start chatting with your friends, laughing hysterically at the jokes you make, leaning playfully on each other, and  enjoying their company. You dance a little more, drink and eat a little more, and chat a little more.

You check your chronometer and realize several hours have passed, and you think now is a good time to head out before you’re too tired to walk home. You let your friends know and begin scooting yourself towards the edge of the booth. As you straighten yourself up, something doesn’t feel right. Your left knee feels strange. You try to walk a little, but your knee won’t bend or straighten. It doesn’t hurt, but rather it feels as if something is stuck under your kneecap. 

You try to walk forward, but you end up limping. Your friends take notice and ask if you’re alright. You’re not sure how to answer them, but you know you can’t walk home like this. You hobble backwards and sink back down into the booth. Your face downtrodden at your awful luck. Your friends offer to call you a cab, but you're not sure what you want to do. You debate whether or not to comm Kix, but knowing your medic boyfriend, he would be furious if you didn’t try to reach him.

Regret washes over you when he answers in that groggy, sleepy voice he gets after waking up in the morning, but he brushes away your apologies. You explain the situation to him and he asks a few simple questions. He doesn’t sound worried, but you can tell the wheels aren’t completely turning in his head yet. He directs you to stay put and says he’ll come get you. You smile and exchange ‘I love yous’ before ending the call. You sigh in relief and await his arrival.

It doesn’t take long for Kix to appear on scene. You see him come through the entrance, in full gear no less, and you wave him over. He has a stern look on his face and walks deliberately, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. You barely let out a small greeting before he slides his hands around your back and legs and lifts you up into his arms. You’re taken aback by the sudden and silent gesture and instinctively wrap your hands around his neck to hang on.

“Kix,” you chuckle playfully as he walks toward the exit of the club. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to the GAR clinic,” he answers without moving his eyes to meet yours. His fierce gaze is locked on its heading. 

“It’s 23:00 hours,” you remind him as you wave goodbye to your friends. “They’re closed.”

“Nothing is closed if you have a key,” Kix retorts, a smirk flashes across his face, but is gone as quickly as it came. He raises his foot to push the club door open and his armor-covered thigh glides across your bottom. You inhale sharply at the swift movement, but Kix doesn’t notice as he carefully maneuvers you both through the opening before it swings shut.

“Don’t you think that’s a little excessive?” you question in a stutter as your face flushes. He doesn't answer. “It’s twelve blocks away!” you try to convince him of the absurdity of him carrying you for such a distance, but he still doesn’t answer or waver from his course. 

His face is trained forward, focused solely on his mission and nothing else. You know that look, that gaze. The one he gets when he automatically falls into combat mode. His expression becomes serious and determined. It’s like a switch, and his ability to flick it on and off amazes you every time. It doesn’t matter the situation, when his training kicks in he becomes unstoppable and immovable, and it’s one of the qualities you admire most about him.

As Kix walks down the street towards the GAR clinic, a cool breeze blows through and hits your sweaty skin sending a shiver through your body. Kix notices you shudder and grips you tighter against his chest to keep you warm, cursing under his breath that he didn’t bring you something better to wear. In his groggy haze after your comm, he forgot you wore a dress tonight and left the apartment with just his gear and blaster, as if this situation even called for a blaster.

He gives you an apologetic kiss on the forehead and continues your journey towards the GAR clinic. The walk is mostly silent, with just the serenade of rhythmic crickets filling in the void. You want to say something, maybe tell him to take a break, but he would never listen. You wonder how his arms haven't fallen off yet at carrying you for such a distance. He doesn’t even sound winded. You start to feel bad about the situation and doubt creeps into your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper while burrowing your face into his neck, a small tear escaping your eye and dissipating into the black fabric of his body suit.

Kix stops walking, tosses you up a little to readjust your position in his arms and continues walking. You thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t. You wonder if he’s mad at you and the destructive thoughts begin swirling endlessly in your mind. All of sudden, you’re second guessing everything about your relationship with Kix. What if you’re too much for him? What if he’s getting tired of you? What if he wants a less accident prone girlfriend?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further out of control, Kix speaks up. “I’ve carried heavier for longer distances,” he reassures. “This is nothing.” He pulls your torso up a little higher and nuzzles your face softly with his cheek before bringing you back down to the comfortable carrying position. You breathe a sigh of relief and rest your head once again on his shoulder, letting the warmth and calmness of his body relax and comfort you. 

Not long after the short exchange, Kix stops walking again, but this time it’s because you’ve finally made it to the GAR clinic. You look up at the familiar sight, where the two you first met, and smile briefly at the memory. The clinic is dark, which is what you would expect at this late hour. Kix shifts your weight so he can grab his clinic access card from his pouch and swipes it. The door whooshes open and the lights automatically turn on as you enter the lobby.

Kix swipes his access card again to gain entrance to the secured medical facility, and instead of carrying you to one of the exam rooms, he brings you straight back to the x-ray room. You still think the whole thing is overkill, but you trust that he knows best. He carefully sets you down on a chair, kisses your cheek, and maneuvers the x-ray machine and your knee to get the pictures he needs. His biggest worries are a tear, fracture, or dislocation and he won’t feel satisfied until he knows for sure.

You sit still for him while he takes the x-rays, scrunching your face periodically at the stiffness and aching you feel in your kneecap. It’s becoming more and more uncomfortable the longer you sit with it bent at this angle, but this is where Kix wants it, so you stay put. You turn your head and look through the window of the tech room and watch as he works. He’s completely focused and engrossed in what he’s doing as he flicks switches and taps on the data-pad. 

You continue to watch as he projects the holo x-ray and puts his hands on his hips as he studies it. You’re starting to feel nervous about the outcome and wonder how badly you injured your knee. Your breath quickens and you let out a small grunt at the pain in your knee. You lean over to rub it and glance back through the window at Kix. He switches off the holo-projection and turns around to look at you with a small smile. You really hope that’s a good sign.

Kix makes his way back to where you’re sitting and gets on one knee in front of you. Without saying a word, he lifts your injured leg gently, fully extends it, then fully bends it, focusing carefully on the movement and your expressions. He rotates your leg to the right, then to the left, presumably to check your mobility. It didn’t particularly hurt when he moved it, but it didn’t feel great either. He then takes his thumb and presses it just below your kneecap.

“Ouch!” you cry with a sharp inhale and recoil your leg from his touch.

“Bingo,” Kix states as he gets up from the floor. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask while rubbing your knee, slightly offended at his painful test.

“Patellar tendinitis,” Kix answers with a relieved smile.

“Galactic standard, please?” you question, unsure of the medical terminology.

Kix chuckles and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “It means the tendon that connects your kneecap to your shin bone is swollen. It’s an easy fix with some anti-inflammatories, an icepack, and rest.”

“How did I do that?” you wonder aloud. All you wanted to do was have a fun night out with your girlfriends and here you are sitting in a clinic with a knee injury.

“Were you jumping?” Kix inquires while crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall behind him.

You purse your lips, almost embarrassed to answer him. “Maybe, a little.”

Kix raises an eyebrow at your sheepish answer. He always knows when you’re lying. It’s one of his unfortunate special powers.

“Okay, maybe a lot,” you answer while looking down, not wanting to meet his piercing gaze.

Kix sighs and shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be jumping like that when you have a previous knee injury.”

“But, I just wanted to have fun!” you protest as your emotions flow through your words unabated. “I just want to dance and have a good time like every other girl gets to do.” 

Kix frowns, pushes himself off the wall, and sits next to you on the x-ray table. He slides a strong arm around your back to pull you against his side and leans his head atop yours. He takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses the back of it. “I know, cyare,” he soothes in a low rumble. “I know.”

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, feeling defeated and betrayed by your own body. The previous knee injury wasn’t even your fault, and it happened so long ago, you didn’t even think about it while you were out with your friends. It’s funny how quickly your body reminds you of how truly broken it really is. You wish your body could do what everyone else’s can but this blatant reminder fills your heart with a type of grief that will never leave and your eyes well with tears.

Kix is quick to notice and wipes them away before they get a chance to fall from your flushed face. He knows you try. He knows you want to have fun. He knows you want nothing more than to be normal. And he knows how much it hurts you when you can’t, but there’s nothing he can do about it. You stay in each other’s embrace for several more minutes, silently exchanging invisible words of hurt and comfort, with light sniffles and soft kisses being the only sounds heard. 

Kix pays close attention to your body language, waiting for when you're ready, and not a moment too soon. He feels your heartbeat slow, your breathing moderate, and your body finally relaxing into his. “Do you want to go home?” he asks.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

Kix kisses the top of your head and stands up. He stretches out his hand and you grab it to help hoist yourself up to stand on the floor. You wince at the discomfort in your knee and limp forward a step. Kix puts his other hand on your back to steady you, and you breathe out a small thanks before continuing to limp forward. Unsatisfied with your struggling, Kix bends over to wrap one arm around your legs and the other around your back, cradling you into his arms like before.   

You sigh and roll your eyes at his selfless, albeit reckless, gesture. “You can’t carry me all the way home too. That’s even farther!”

Kix smirks at your challenge. “Watch me.”

The journey home is much more light-hearted than the walk to the GAR clinic. You can tell Kix is relaxing as he steps down from medic-mode and steps into boyfriend-mode. He asks you more questions about your night out with your friends and you regale him with exaggerated tales of your womanly wiles. You both laugh at your wild stories and he tells you a couple funny ones from his time on deployment. 

It must be quite the sight at 02:00 hours, two people laughing hysterically while strolling down the street, one carrying the other. People probably think you’re drunk, but neither of you care about their opinions. You're finally getting a chance to be together after being separated for such a long time. It doesn’t matter the circumstance, just the closeness, the fondness, and the affection are what you need. His gentle touch, his strong heartbeat, his deep voice, it’s all that matters to you.

Kix rounds the corner of the street your apartment is on and you hear him huff. The long distance and exhaustion is finally getting to him, but he is determined to finish strong. He shifts your weight in his arms to get a better grip and you smile at his tenacity, rewarding his efforts with a sweet kiss on his cheek. He makes the final stretch and pulls out your apartment key card, swiping it to open the door to your home. 

He carries you through the doorway, past the kitchen, and into the bedroom, laying you gently on the bed, before flopping backward onto it himself with a heavy sigh of relief. You roll onto your side to face him and prop your head up on your elbow. “Are you okay?” You chuckle as you run your other hand over the stubble of his shaved head.

“I just need a minute,” Kix breathes, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion. “And a shower.”

“I could use one too,” you realize after thinking about your night out before you injured yourself. There’s no way you can go to sleep with all that ick covering your body, but you wonder how well you can shower yourself with your knee hurting so badly. You imagine all the ways you can brace yourself to wash your hair and how hopping on one foot works in a slippery bathtub.

“We can take one together,” Kix suggests as if he’s reading your mind. He turns his head to look at you, waiting for your answer.

You raise an eyebrow in response. It’s not that you don’t want to, in fact, you’d love to, but not now, not like this. This isn’t the time for that. You're in pain and you don’t want to play around. You just want a shower, and only a shower, nothing else.

“What?” he asks, feigning feelings of hurt that you think he would take advantage of you in your injured state. “I need a shower, you need a shower, and you obviously can’t do it on your own.”

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at his assessment, feeling offended that he would say something like that, even though it was the same conclusion you came to only moments earlier. You think about it a little more, and you hate to admit it, but it does make sense. You're both exhausted and disgusting, so a shower must be taken at some point. You sigh in defeat and begrudgingly agree to shower together, but you stipulate no funny business.

Kix agrees to your terms and conditions without hesitation, because, honestly, he doesn’t want to do anything either, but it’s more fun if you think he does. He loves to see that flustered look on your face and watch as you get defensive and straightforward with him. He smirks at your empty threats as you rattle off all the things you would do if he crosses even one line, and he laughs at your playful smacks on his arm when he tosses out a lewd joke. 

“Kix,” you stretch the pronunciation of his name out to show your annoyance. 

“Alright,” he concedes while still laughing. “Are we doing this or what?”

“Yes,” you answer with a sigh. “We’re doing this.”

Kix smiles and heaves himself up from the bed with a grunt. 

“You sound like an old man,” you jest with a snort and start to giggle.

Kix turns around and furrows his brows. “If you weren’t injured, I’d–”

“You’d what?” you quickly cut him off, daring him to answer.

He takes a deep breath and lets his thoughts dissipate. “Never mind.” You both laugh at yourselves, obviously too tired to think straight. “Come on,” he beckons. “Shower time.” 

Kix starts by removing his armor piece by piece and neatly piling it in the closet. He then peels his sweaty blacks off and tosses them towards the laundry hamper, but they land hanging halfway out. He shrugs at them and leaves the room to turn the shower on. You then slip your dress over your head and also toss it towards the hamper, but you sigh at your terrible aim as the hamper topples over. You shrug at the mess and decide to worry about when you have more energy.

Kix comes back to get you, and frowns as he watches you rub your knee. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while and he wishes he could do something to alleviate your pain besides medicine and ice. He walks over to the edge of the bed and kneels down in front of you. You raise an eyebrow, wondering what he’s going to do, but you give him the benefit of the doubt. He slides his hand along the outside of your shin, snakes his fingers under your knee, lifts it to his face, and kisses it tenderly.

“I’ve heard kisses make boo-boos better,” Kix whispers against your knee, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. He recoils apologetically at your body’s reaction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

��It’s fine,” you assure him with a soft chuckle and a sincere smile. What he did was a sweet gesture and you had no qualms with it. You wish his kisses had the magical power to take all your pain away, and sometimes it feels like they can, but there are some things that kisses cannot fix. However, you play along and feed into his heartfelt attempt. “My knee already feels better.”

Kix smiles knowingly, gets up from the floor, and comes alongside you. He reaches one arm around your back to support you, and grabs your hand with his free one. You brace yourself against his strong hold and pull yourself up from the bed. You hobble forward a little, trying not to put pressure on the injured knee, and Kix steadies you. You lean against his toned body and limp toward the refresher, wincing at the discomfort. 

Once in the refresher, you toss your undergarments aside and Kix picks you up to lift you over the raised side of the tub and places you down into the warm spray. You grab the small railing on the side to steady yourself, and give Kix a nod to let him know he can let go. He slowly takes his hands off you, making sure to watch if you falter. As he sees you holding yourself up, he gets into the shower and joins you under the hot water.

Kix places his hands on your hips and pulls you back against his bare chest. “Lean on me, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. 

You don’t hesitate to take him up on his offer as you release the railing and let his strong arms hold you up. You’ve built up enough trust with him that you’re not afraid for a single moment whether he’ll drop you. You know that when you’re in Kix’s arms, there’s nothing that can touch you, there’s nothing that can hurt you, and there isn’t a force in the galaxy that can pry you away from him. There’s no fear when you’re with Kix. Some call it possession, but you call it safe. 

You let the hot water roll over your face, your hair, and down your body for several minutes before grabbing your shampoo bottle. You squeeze a little onto your palm and lather it up in your hair. Kix leans his head back to keep it from getting in his eyes and you giggle as he blows away the bubbles forming in your hair. You rinse the shampoo out of your hair, add some conditioner, then grab your body wash and loofah. 

It’s a little awkward, the two of you tangled up as you try to wash the dirt off your body, but he tries to maneuver you into different positions to reach different spots. At one point, he was holding you with one hand and scrubbing you gently with the other. You wonder how he does it. How he could be so strong and unyielding in the field, yet so gentle with you. He holds you like a fragile piece of glass even though he could crush you with a single flex of his muscles. 

You finish cleaning all the nooks and crannies of your body and rinse out the conditioner from your hair. Now, it’s Kix’s turn to get the water he’s been waiting so patiently for. He moves you both forward, so you're past the shower’s spray and he’s directly under it, pressing one hand against the back of the shower for you to lean against. He groans with pleasure under the water’s cascading heat and the vibration echoing from his chest sends a shiver down your body.

Kix notices you shivering, and makes quick work of cleaning himself up, thinking your cold from being outside the water’s warmth. He switches hands for you to lean against so he can clean everywhere he needs to, and rinses the soap off his skin just as fast. You feel bad that he didn’t get to spend more time under the water, but he reassures you that as a soldier he’s used to quick showers and this was more than enough for him to feel satisfied. 

Kix turns the water off, leans out to pull a towel off the rack, and wraps it loosely around your damp skin. He tussles the towel to help you dry off and you start giggling. He smiles at the happy little sounds you’re making and gives you a chaste kiss on the nose. Once satisfied that you’re not shivering anymore, he gets out of the tub, picks you up to lift you over the side, and gently places you back onto the ground. 

He makes sure you're steady, then grabs another towel from the rack, pats himself off, and wraps it around his waist in a few short movements. It’s so quick that if you blink you’ll miss it, but that’s him, quick and efficient. He positions himself beside you to help guide you back to the bedroom, limping slightly along the way. As you approach the bed, Kix picks you up princess style once again and gently lays you down onto your side of the bed. 

He rummages through the dresser, grabbing you some clean pajamas and a pair of boxers for himself. You both dress yourself for bed, and you take the towel wrapped around your body and work on drying your hair to an acceptable amount to go to sleep. You don’t have the energy to blow dry it at this point, but you also don’t want to sleep on a sopping wet pillow. As you work on your hair, your stomach starts growling and you realize it’s been hours since you had any food.

“Is it too late to eat?” you ask an already half-asleep Kix laying next to you.

He opens one eye to look at the chronometer on the bedside table and mumbles into his pillow. “It’s basically breakfast time, so why not.”

“I bought a frozen pizza last week,” you mention while tracing small circles on his back to coax him awake. “You could pop it in the oven real quick.”

Kix groans in protest, but his stomach betrays him and growls at the mention of food. He sighs in defeat, gets up, and rubs his eyes. It’s been a very long night for the two of you and dawn is already fast approaching. Luckily, neither of you have plans for the day so sleeping past noon is the only logical course of action. On his way to the kitchen he remembers to grab the anti-inflammatory medicine and an ice-pack for your knee, the two things he wasn’t supposed to forget. 

He puts the pizza in the oven and brings you the medicine and a cup of water to wash it down. You gladly take it as the pain in your knee started bothering you again after the shower made it feel slightly better. Kix smiles lazily at you, the exhaustion clear on his face, and you feel bad for making him stay up so late for you. He takes the cup of water back and places the towel-covered ice pack on your knee, timing fifteen minutes for when you need to remove it.

Kix, being the ever-doting man he is, decides to do one more thing to help make you feel better. He steps back into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. If there’s one thing he knows you enjoy, it’s a hot cup of tea. For some reason, tea fixes everything. Bad day? Tea. Period? Tea. Sad? Tea. Injured? Well, according to the track record, tea will work for that too. He sifts through your tea cabinet and pulls out your favorite blend and mug, and steeps you a steaming cup. 

The pizza timer dings and Kix pulls it out of the oven, slices it, and brings the whole thing into the bedroom, along with some napkins, and the tea he brewed for you. You smile when he comes into the room and you're even more happy to see your favorite mug in his hand. He sets the mug down on your bedside table and places the pizza in the middle of the bed, before walking back around and settling onto his side of the bed. 

You take a sip of the tea and lean your head back against the headboard in simple bliss, sighing softly. Kix smiles at your peace and downs a slice of pizza. You grab a slice as well, and pick up the remote to start one of your favorite princess holos. You're feeling extra sappy tonight and in need of something comforting. You already have your prince charming, but you still love the nostalgia of watching the maiden fall in love with the prince and being swept away into a happily ever after. 

Once the pizza has been demolished, Kix removes the pan from the bed and tosses it onto the floor. He slides across the sheets to close the gap between you and wraps an arm around you to pull you close. You lean into his loving embrace and nestle your head against his chest, laying an arm across his stomach. He kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes, listening to his strong heartbeat and his soft breathing as they soothe and lull you softly to sleep. 

Masterlist

A03

Tag List: @nahoney22 @kixs-husband @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndus

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[grandmother-goblin]

And another thing I kinda miss about Early Access Wyll was one of his implied flaws: his drinking (potentially alcoholism).

There were two scenes in Early Access that kinda pointed out that Wyll might have had a bit of a problem (one of them might still be available in some form, but I haven’t seen it in a while so I’m not sure). Or, at the very least, turned to alcohol when things piled up.

1. The Wyvern Whiskey scene: I LOVED this scene! It was the first time the player got to see Wyll’s Blade of Frontiers mask really crack. Just him, sitting on the ground, drinking really strong booze straight from the bottle. I want to say this scene occurred after either dealing with Fezzrak or Spike, but I can’t remember.

2. The tiefling party: if Tav turns him down romantically, he tells them to go have fun and that he’s got a “tankard keeping him company” (I think there is still some version of this in the game?). Which, on its own, the dialogue doesn’t seem like much, but in combination with the Wyvern Whiskey scene, I was kinda like “uhhhh Wyll? You okay?”

Then, of course, with his idle camp animation where he always had a drink in his hand, it made it kind of easy to assume he might have a little problem.

Idk, I found that part of his character really interesting (maybe because I related to it due to my own experiences) and some part of my brain is still like “yep, when Wyll gets stressed, he goes for the booze”.

Anyways, I loved that Wyll had a really strong, obvious, flaw like that and part of me kind of misses it. I love Full Release Wyll, don’t get me wrong, but I remember the Wyvern Whiskey scene being one of the first things that really made my brain start rotating him around in my head lol.

(This is totally not serious rambling. Ignore meeeeee)

[soullesserror]

Not ur DMs but oh man!! Do I have a character analysis to dump upon you. I’m not gonna do a ton of editing, but I do wish to share.

Oh bro, Q!Foolish is so cool as a character. Him and BBH are literally both insane in the exact same way, but with such different views on morality. It results in wildly different ideas of themselves and the world around them!

Foolish is selfish and he knows it, but he also loves his family dearly. He will do anything to protect the people he cares about even though that circle is pretty small. Anyone outside the circle is fair game tho. (BBH is an exception because he’s trusted, but Foolish and him love endangering each other for sport). By “fair game,” I mean Foolish will actively throw anyone under the bus just because he feels like it. Honestly doesn’t even have to be for any particular gain. He will absolutely do things just to see what happens. He acts like a morally grey immortal who doesn’t quite understand how normal people think anymore.

At the same time, a lot of his actions do have motives. A big part of his character is that Foolish just wants rare/unique items and will do nearly anything (including endanger others) to get them. He sees the island as a game to win, which makes it easy to not care about consequences for himself and others. He’s not malicious and he doesn’t seek to cause others pain, but will still do things knowing full well they could harm. He also fully accepts other people seeking retribution for his actions, because he’s got a “fair is fair” type mentality. He will simply deal with whatever consequences float his way for his actions.

Because Foolish is aware of his selfishness, he will never try and take a moral high ground. He doesn’t think he’s a morally just person, and he doesn’t care to be. He cares about chaos for the sake of fun, doing things to get him stuff, and protecting those he loves.

(Also, Foolish & Jaiden as people are both the embodiment of chaotic neutral. Everything they do together is fun as Jaiden enables the hell out of any idea Foolish has. Morality be damned, they just wanna be menaces for the sake of it.)

Also also, Foolish is actually smarter than he appears and presents himself. He’s actually a strategist at heart, but will only use it for his own personal gain and often under the table lol. He’s silly, but he uses that to play all fields and knows how to keep things secret. His behavior will often trick others into underestimating him, but unfortunately also leads to people fundamentally not understanding him or his motives.

Idk,, I stay spinning these Minecraft people in my brain like a microwave lol. I could probably give similar level analysis on a handful of my other main QSMP people, but yeah. Foolish is especially cool to me because people who have zero illusion about being morally fucked by normal standards are soooo interesting! It’s a very atypical way to aproach the world not giving a shit about morality while also being zero percent malicious. His /goal/ isn’t ever to hurt people for the sake of it, he’s just a means to an end kind of guy. He’s neat because about him and his explanation for his actions tends to embody a genuine sense of neutrality in the most insane way possible.

god this is so cool

I really want to watch more of Foolish’s vods to really get a grasp of him and I can’t really add onto this much at all but oh anon I appreciate so much. Thank you for this meal of a character analysis served on a silver platter

I think the type of morally grey Foolish is, is by the far the most fun to me. It’s that loyalty to these select few people and that loyalty will not change unless extreme circumstances causes it to. So so interesting. And also like. Him being friends with others but if given the popular he will screw them over? That’s hilarious. Good for him, doing things for the bit and for his own personal gain. I wouldn’t, probably, but selfish characters are soooooo… rotating around inside my head.

[oops-its-a-fanwork]

Part one of "Some interesting devil fruit abilities for reader to have in the pirate au" (from someone who's never seen one piece so bear with me)

I'm not a native English speaker so these may have some mistakes in them, sorry!

Also, this particular pirate au was created by @mega-punani! Thank you for creating characters I can rotate in my head like popcorn in a microwave xx

I present to you: Pocket docter!!

Devil fruit: Tiny fruit

Reader can get tiny at will!

Thats it.

:)

...Well, okay, they have some outfits that shrink with them, and possibly some jewelry and stuff they keep on them at all times, like a little healing kit! Outfits that don't fit or they don't consider theirs wont shrink or grow with them. Embarrassing!

Probably a little salty that they gave up their ability to swim in the ocean for this... regardless of having had a choice in the matter. Its not a flashy cool power but it sure can be useful!

They can make really specialized tiny tools, get very specific parts of plants and other remedies for illnesses, and they can treat delicate wounds with extreme precision if needed! The tiniest needle and thread known to man is at their disposal.

This power could have reader in fight scenes but in someones pocket, passed around to heal during battle (a little risky but that's fun!) or captured by an enemy and then suddenly be gone (if there's no sea prism stones used ofc).

Not to mention some interesting interactions with the boys!

Sans put his hat on your head while you were tiny and laughed his head off-- its a pretty goofy sight and you're struggling to keep it near you against the wind. You still insist it looked better on you than it does on him and he kind of agrees.

You end up sewing teeny tiny little things into his hat whenever you end up trapped under there. Little stars and shapes, puns, messages... You've assured him you can easily remove them but he loves it. At some point he offers it as a makeshift bed for you if you ever need it, having added a tiny pillow and letting you use the scarf as a blanket. The sight of you asleep in his hat on his nightstand endears him to no end.

Dang hes already tall but Papyrus really dwarfs you huh? He will encourage you to not feel bad or less than others for being absolutely tiny!! --even if your normal form is about average or even tall. Everyone is small compared to him and he's truly nice about it so you forgive him for it.

I feel like he might accidentally forget you in the crows nest and then frantically get the crew looking for you while you're just chilling up there. He didn't forget to put your safety first up there so you've got a lovely view to enjoy!

(Hes no longer the shortest let's GOOOOO-)

Alright so Blue is the most dangerous man to be around out of all of them. Not out of malice of course! Hes just very strong and very energetic, and where Papyrus might punctuate his extravagant poses with acrobatics, Blue does so with his unbridled strength! Which meaaaans he might grip you just a little tight when picking you up, or that he'll forget you're near him while moves around, sweeping your feet out from under you. He definitely learns with time, but you're having much more fun being carried around while at your normal size.

You've pranked Stretch by pretending to be a rat a couple of times, scuttling from under a table or jumping at him suddenly because you are very funny! And also because he was trying to ignore your presence on the ship at first. What better ways to get along than to prank and bother him relentlessly until he talks to you? Unfortunately for his pride, it works, and the pranking turns into lighthearted inside jokes instead. He wont admit it, but hes much less jumpy at the sight of wandering mice and rats now...

I also think Stretch has some of the softest clothes on the ship, and that on some cold days, you can snooze in his hood/scarf while he plays some gentle tunes. Its a very relaxing time for both of you.

Red thinks you're so, so cute... now how can he convey this to you without sounding condescending?

Through trial and error of course! You can yell at him that hes being mean and he'll think its hot, but he will genuinely tweak his approach to you a bit. He'll call you kitten, but if you say you feel he's not taking you seriously when you're small he'll only say it when you're regular sized. Hell he'll call you boss or sir/lady if that's the only thing you can tolerate. And also because that's funny as hell.

You asked to help him with hard to reach nooks and crannies on the ship and its really bonding for you both. He will always check/clean whatever spot you need to reach a bit before you climb in (like a gentlemonster) and then he'll stare at your ass when you're reaching for whatever is inside (like a perv!).

Someone makes mother hen and chickadee joke.

Someone gets tossed off the ship.

It might not be the worst analogy though: Edge is quite protective of you when you're that small, and you can always turn to him when you're 'getting bullied' by the rest of the crew. Hide in his coat and stick your tongue out while he chides them, that'll show 'm!

Edge is probably one of the people who suggested creating a little room for you to do tiny crafts in so he doesn't accidentally blow your materials away when he walks past in a hurry. He has places to be! Its definitely not because he thinks you're cute and distracting nope--

He does kind of regret it sometimes when he hasn't seen you all day. Show him you thought of him by gifting him a tiny craft, yeah?

Reader might help Razz get super specialized tiny equipment to draw with, like incredibly sharp edged pencils or brushes with materials that you know will still draw well at that size. It could make his detailed works even better!!

...ifffff he lets you watch while he works of course. It'll help you get a better understanding of what he needs! Besides, its very easy to forget that there's a cute little human on your shoulder when you're concentrating that hard. Surely you wouldn't surprise-attack kiss him on the cheek will you? ;)

You get stolen/kidnapped by Cash often, for 'ransom' (food or favors from the others), 'evil purposes' (pranks) or 'for funsies' (attention). Depending on your tolerance/love for pranks he could be an awesome pranking buddy, or a bit of a nightmare.

He might scam people by selling you as a fairy in a cage and then stealing you back immediately, or by trying to convince you to help him cheat at games with a drunk bunch in a pub.

Of course, your ability to grow back to normal size ensures there's always some form of consent to these japes. If you've had enough, grow back to size on his shoulder or in his hand, that'll show him!! He's to lanky to keep his balance, even if he sees it coming.

Bear loves feeding you things when you're small, since most foods are tough to eat when your head is the size of a grape. For example, eating crackers forces you to nibble like a mouse would which is adorable to him. He also tries to make tiny sized dishes for you for a few reasons: one, it hides the before mentioned intentions of watching you eat behind just making you food, two, he's bored and tiny dishes are genuinely challenging, and three: it gets him genuine compliments and interactions with you, resulting in a lovely blushy skeleton.

Also the teaspoon thing would be so funny in this context lmao. You can buy or carve a pretty one to make him feel better about it if you want, and he would find it hilarious if you made and showed him tiny sized food utensils.

You pull Cinnamon around ratatouille-style on occasion. Or at least he definitely lets you lead him around the place while chatting excitedly about everything and nothing. He loves having you so close, and you've built up enough trust for him to know you wont embarrass or prank him. Not that you could pull off a prank anyway: his ability to see auras makes him the only person on the ship who rarely overlooks you when you're tiny.

You've both decided he doesn't tell the others where you are when you need some time alone, but he does feel better knowing you're safe on the ship somewhere, so you do give him a little wave when you spot him.

Then for some extra little tidbits:

If Blue or Red are being annoying while training with reader (as in using reader like a weight for training), reader will suddenly shrink to throw them off balance.

If you're the kind of person to avoid confrontation when you're in trouble then congrats! You can now blip out of place during any uncomfy conversation. This leads to things like the following:

If you nervously leave a lot of conversations by shrinking and leaving when Edge is grilling you, he might take the hint that he's being more harsh then you can handle and he'll treat you with a different tone of voice (to the best of his ability of course). He might use some excuse about his loud voice impacting your tiny tiny eardrums or something but we all know you're just a softy Edge <3

And if you're a trouble-maker like some of the gang, you might actually get on bears nerves enough for him to chase you! And as that usually ends with you shrinking to avoid getting hit with a teaspoon ladle, he just picks you up and puts you in his chest pocket. You are now officially in time-out, and you can either stay there and watch him cook or grow big again and get hit (or at least, thats the implied threat. You both know he wouldn't). He says you'll stay an hour, for punishment, but it only ends up being like ten minutes before he gives mercy. Unless you get all sleepy in his pocket of course...

If the crew would ever need to find and/or rescue you, they would send Cinnamon and Edge or Sans on the case: Cinnamon can find you with his aura vision, and Edge and Sans are respectively the most focused on the task at hand and able to pull you out of whatever place you're in without hurting you.

When the crew plays card games and you're to tired to play yourself, you'll sit on someones shoulder to give advice. Is it good advice? Possibly. Are you cheating by checking in on others? Maybe. Do you use your powers for good? If whoever you're sitting with has been nice, sure :) !

You're either considered a lucky charm or a menace, its up to you ;)

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug on 'The Solitary Clone'

Oh boy, a Daddy Warcrimes episode, happy happy joy joy!

Here it is, Doug's review of 'The Solitary Clone' or, as he calls it, 'Daddy Warcrimes Goes To Texas'.

Nothing much to say...enjoy, you lot. Doug liked this episode, but he likes Daddy Warcrimes the same reason I enjoy characters like the Joker and Daemon Targaryen: I AM NEVER BORED.

CW: Daddy Warcrimes do what he do and Doug narrates it. Need I say more? Oh and if you're from Texas, I apologize ahead of time. Doug shreds the Lone Star State something bad in here.

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

Oh boy, we arrive at some dry-ass dump. It’s gross and there’s corn and everyone seems a little off. Must be Oklahoma.

Wait, there’s peaky mountains, must be Texas. Didn’t know Texas was in Star Wars but whatever. 

Well, here’s the Empire, but wait! This dump is run by an angry lady with a bucket on her head dressed like a hippie beekeeper. I’ll call her Beekeeper Bitch.

Anywho, looks like Beekeeper Bitch is holding the government officials hostage today, which is what they do for fun in Texas I guess, besides make barbeques and do weird shit at football games. I hate A&M so much. 

Now, here’s Daddy Warcrimes, having a nice nap in what looks to be the broom closet at my job where the junior engineers always end up banging each other at least once a week. I’m surprised there’s no bleach in there. Jeez, Daddy Warcrimes, no blanket?

Poor Daddy Warcrimes, trying to make friends with the other dudes at lunch and no one wants to go near him because he was forced to sleep in the Dirty Shag Closet. At least the clone cafeteria has turkey legs like Ren Faire. I wonder if it’s because Daddy Warcrimes crashes where the younger employees screw each other all day and there’s stains on the walls no one wants to talk about. Oh well. 

Oh, now we gotta see MBA-Rob. No turkey legs for Daddy Warcrimes today. I hate this little asshole, of course he’s dicking around on his stupid assed phone while Daddy Warcrimes waits and fantasizes about killing and smoked meats.

No one will swipe right on you, Rob, you’re unemployed and gave your last girlfriend an itchy crotch. Or is it left? Up and down? How does that thing where you meet ladies work? 

32 rotations…wtf is this Waterworld shit? How come Daddy Warcrimes isn’t burned to a crisp? How did he survive on that dump? Damn, the man must be part roach, I guess, wow. 

Now he’s got his sweet Johnny Cash armor back on, just looking at him makes me wanna watch that western robot show with Ed Harris again. He’s hanging out in front of that script that possessed Linda Blair back in the day. Does Pazuzu exist in this universe?

Oh, shit, it’s Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend! What in the what what. Glad to see he’s still around! Where’s his gold armor? Did he get it after Obi-Wan…you know, that makes me too sad to think about. I’m sorry, Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend, that must have been rough on you. 

Well, looks like he and Daddy Warcrimes are off!  Where? They’re off on a charming romp to squash some rebellion!...wait, is this a good thing or a bad thing? Who are we rooting for? I’m confused. When did Star Wars get confusing? Am I old now?

Ya know who's not confused? Daddy Warcrimes! His job is pointing, shooting, killing. Which, I get, man. I worked in the oil industry. Speaking of which, they’re back in Texas, but where? Are they in Marfa? This looks like one of the shittier towns in West Texas, outside of El Paso. Are they making meth? Is the Empire the DEA? 

You know, this place is quite nice for someone like Daddy Warcrimes. Second amendment respected, the locals spoke in grunt, and smoked meats for everyone! Speaking of Texas, I wonder if there’s a Buc-ee’s inside, and the Empire wants to take over their jerky emporium, and that’s where this mess came from.

I miss Buc-ees, I could go with a hot brisket sandwich and some Beaver nuggets, get some red velvet fudge for later. 

No wonder Daddy Warcrimes is shooting everyone, the man is hungry! 

God, DAMN, Daddy Warcrimes waiting and staying perfectly still while he’s getting shot at and the TANK holy SHIT he is a BAD ASS but a BAD PERSON and I am CONFUSED BUT I LIKE IT? 

("Meat Muffin, you got a doctorate, diagnose me, what is this feeling where I’m confused but happy?"

"It’s just being happy, Doug, and my doctorate is not in psychology.")

And those crap robots are shooting at them again, but are these good guy robots? Didn’t we spend the last few years hating on them? Oh wait, they’re reprogrammed for defense…oh.

Have I ever told you how much I hate those damn things? They look like vacuum cleaners, if someone made art of a vacuum cleaner that they wanted to be human. Non sexy vacuum cleaners.

("Doug, when did you ever think vacuum cleaners were sexy?"

"Never, don’t know what you’re talking about.") 

Why does this feel like an FBI siege? Is this based on Waco? Shit man, I was in the navy when that happened. This ain’t good. This really is Daddy Wacrimes's Texan adventure, isn't it?

But what is good is Daddy Warcrimes and his GUN. Look at those trick shots like the man is yelling ‘SKEET’ and ‘PULL’ like you wouldn’t believe. I bet he’s the type of person who throws a tantrum at the ice cream store because his favorite flavor is ‘bullets’ and it ain’t on the menu.

Look at him and Obi-Wan’s boyfriend just going up and killing robots left and right. He ain’t good, but that ain’t bad. Which is…good or bad? Ah, whatever, I like this damn show. 

And there’s Beekeeper Bitch bitching at the Empire’s Bitch. Those couches look comfy. 

Daddy Warcrimes is coming your way! When she’s not wearing her helmet, Beekeeper Bitch looks just like my niece! Wow! Oh, now I don’t know, is she bad? Good? She wants independence for her people, maybe Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend and Daddy Warcrimes can listen to her? 

Oh, shut up, Empire Bitch, no one cares. ‘Execute her’ uh shut up, your hat sucks and don’t you know that Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend is a free-thinking MAN who might just up and take a DUMP on your LAWN. 

Well, no. Damn, Daddy Warcrimes, you cold-assed sonofabitch. 

‘Hang her body in the square’, what in the hell, this is dark, Dr Meat Muffin, are you letting your sweet girls watch this show? One of them’s a baby, I hope not. 

(I was 100% watching this with my 2 year old, it was on Disney, what do you expect- Dr. MM)

Welp, Daddy Warcrimes is back where he started, chilling in the cafeteria and his new best friend is his helmet. Wonderful. The helmet will at least make eye contact with him. 

Back to MBA-Rob being a dick to everyone and now Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend has run off. Probably to drink himself into a stupor and cry in a shower somewhere. I know I would, too.  

We really didn’t learn anything in this episode, did we? Well, I learned that Daddy Warcrimes is living a confusing life, never gets to eat and has to sleep in the Dirty Shag Closet. But at least he's got his helmet and his gun and MBA-Rob.

I know he’s bad, but he’s good at that, which is bad…but for me, it’s good?

[ohmystaxk]

Goodbye, My Dear Stranger (2)

[PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

Pairing(s): (Jake Lockley x Reader) (Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader later on) [Pre-Moon Knight show]

Chapter Character(s): Steven Grant.

Content/Tags: Reader having creep tendencies, somewhat of a date (?).

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: After meeting Jake, you decided to go to the Museum with a friend. There you meet someone that looks like Jake, but isn't him?

Two days had passed since the night you had met Jake at the café. Unfortunately for you, he had not come back again. Truthfully, you didn’t expect him to. Yes, you had hoped he would come by, order himself the same coffee he had last time and ask how your day was. Perhaps he would check up on you and ask if you had encountered the same guys from last night again. You hadn’t. Perhaps Jake’s little play pretend had worked.

Even when you wanted an interaction with the man, something told you it would not happen again. At least not anytime soon. He seemed rather reserved, since he had barely spoken to you. But then again, he seemed like a lonesome kind of guy. Yet another thing he seemed to share with your elusive neighbor. 

That night, when you got home, you noticed no lamps were on at your neighbor’s apartment. The following days had been just the same. You started to think that perhaps he had pieced the puzzle together and realized it wasn’t the first time you were a creep that spied on him. Just the thought made your insides turn and your palms sweaty. Young adult spies on their older neighbor. You could see the headlines in your head. 

“You there?” You blinked a couple of times. A face appeared in your field of view, accompanied by a waving hand. It was Deanna.

“Sorry, what?” You asked her and she tilted her head to the side.

“You were gone for a second there. You alright?” She placed her bag on the bench next to you. Deanna turned her body towards you as she sat down on your left.

“I was just thinking. Did you say something?” Deanna nodded with a short sigh.

“Sure did. I’d like to go down to the gift shop if you don’t mind. We can also go down to The Green Wall, see if Martha will get us something to eat after we are done here, yeah?”

Today you hadn’t worked at The Green Wall, the name of the coffee shop. And so, Deanna had asked to go to the Museum down the street from the shop. Neither of you had even been there and wanted to check out the new exhibit they’d been advertising with massive banners outside the building. The concept seemed fun and it wasn’t like you often went to those kinds of places.

The two of you wandered and looked around for about an hour and half. The place was beautiful, tall white walls, some ceilings had skylights allowing for better visibility, and the floor had polished marble tile on the main area. They had a lot of Egyptian artifacts and replicas, paintings, and displays that showed videos of reconstruction of what Egypt could possibly have looked like back in its glory days. It was nice to go out and do something differently than going home and working on your laptop, or watching shows for hours.

“Yeah, sounds good.” You answered. “I might get something from the gift shop too.” Deanna nodded with a smile. 

“I saw some cute plushies on our way in. Come on.” She stood up and you followed.

The two of you made your way to the gift shop as Deanna showed you some of the pictures she’d taken when exploring the place. They all looked good and she was trying to decide which ones to post on social media, debating between two pictures that looked the exact same.

So when you walked in, you both were staring at her phone. You pointed at one that had a replica of The Great Pyramid of Giza, the angle and the lighting worked great. When Deanna got herself entranced by her phone, you decided to take a look around, the first thing in front of you was a rotating metal display with postcards.

Most of the pictures were of Egypt, others of the Museum, and a couple of London. You took one in your hands, the photo had the pyramids with a low sunset in the background. It was beautiful. You looked at the rest of the photocards that might catch your attention, it was a voice that caught it instead. You looked through the display and towards the check-out counter.

At the register was none other than Jake. No hat and no low lighting to obstruct his face from the world. You felt your gut flutter with sudden surprise, and reached for Deanna who was still on her phone.

“What?” She looked at you when you tapped her arm.

“It’s him.” You simply said, your eyes wide. You felt your cheeks flush as you looked towards Jake who was with another client at the moment.

“Who is it? Is it the guy from the bad date?” She asked with interest.

“No, the guy from Green Wall.” Deanna’s eyes widened with disbelief.

“One of the fucking dickheads?” You looked at her with a frown.

“What? No. The one that helped me. His name is Jake.” Her expression softened.

“Oh so that’s the lad, yeah? He seems pretty nice and all. Won’t you go and say hello, then?” Deanna shoved you gently, an encouraging smile on her face.

“You know I can’t.”

“Of course you can, love. The man over there doesn’t look like he bites, go on then.” You sighed and tightened your grip on the postcard.

You started walking towards the counter once the clients had left. Your hands grabbed three things at random and made your way towards him.

Once in front of him, he looked up at you. He had a friendly smile on, it seemed genuine and that eased your nerves. In reality, he had a rather pretty smile; warm and inviting.

“Hello there, you found everything?” He said and then you frowned. You remembered him having an accent, just not an English one.

“Y-yeah.” You then placed the items on the counter, not looking at them. 

He nodded and started scanning. He looked at you through his lashes. His eyes were soft, not deep or distant like last time. There were eyebags under his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and he had a shadow of a beard. He looked completely different from that night. A hot mess you would dare to say. 

“Did you enjoy the tour?” He spoke and you blinked.

“We didn’t take the tour, we just explored by ourselves.” He nodded and placed your items in a bag.

“What were your thoughts? Having, well, not much to go on from.” He then leaned forward just a little, like he was about to hear a secret.

“I liked it. I’d rather do things at my own pace. That way I get to enjoy things and take the moment all in.” He seemed to light up as you said that, a smile formed on his lips again. He had very nice lips.

“That’s good to hear. I hadn’t thought about it that way, you know, the whole no-tour thing.” Yes, Jake didn’t have an English accent. It was then that your eyes fell on his name tag, ‘Steven’.

“You should try it, it’s always nice if you enjoy doing things by yourself.” He nodded again, and he stared at you for a couple of seconds.

“I will. It seems fun. Not like I don’t already do it.” He smiled, he liked to smile, and not forcefully. It was something different. Steven was different. And you liked that. The man was attractive despite his current state.

“Would you like to go out for coffee or something later?” You felt the air leave your lungs the second you uttered those words.

This wasn’t like you. You would never ask a complete stranger out for coffee, or for anything really.

“Sorry?” He seemed just as shocked as you were with a slight tint on his cheek. You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish.

“I’m sorry, I don't know why I said that. That was so inappropriate, I’m really sorry.” You pull out your wallet and look at the register, the total displayed for you. You placed the amount on the counter.

“No, it’s just. I wasn’t expecting that. Has never happened to me before.” He confessed to you, he seemed genuinely surprised and that made you feel less guilty of pretty much having thrown yourself at him.

“I have never done that, if that helps.” You gave him your name, he smiled and said it out loud. It sounded nice coming from him, you realized.

“Steven.” He pointed at his name tag. “I would love coffee. Tea preferably, I have to admit.”

“Right, well, there’s a coffee shop right down the street by the plaza on main. It’s called The Green Wall.”

“Oh, I know that place! I go there sometimes before work, their tea is truly something else.” His smile got bigger, showing his teeth.

“Well, what about tomorrow? Seven p.m.?” When you asked he nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s a date.” He said and then his smile dropped. “Is it?”

“Sure.” You gave him a smile and he handed you the bag.

“Well then, see you tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You offered him one last smile before slowly turning away. He had smiled before, yet it didn’t seem to compete with how giddy he looked as he smiled at you. 

You waited outside the gift shop for Deanna to finish browsing. Every so often, you would stare back into the place to see Steven, taking the time into paying attention to his mannerisms, the way he would emote. You felt like a freaking stalker, but it was impossible for two people to look that alike, right? Your only interaction with Jake had been brief. But, even then, you could tell he was nothing like Steven, and Steven seemed nothing like Jake. Two polar opposites in the same city, in very close proximity to each other. 

Jake had mentioned going back to work. You recalled his attire. Either the man liked dressing like somebody's old grandfather who drove cabs for a living, or he actually was a cab driver and dressed as such. Then, there was Steven, a very tired-looking gift shop employee at a Museum. Neither of them seem like the owners of a big flat in downtown London. Unless they had other jobs, just like you did in order to provide for your way-too-small flat. Perhaps, the two were twins and were raised differently, Jake coming from overseas and staying at Steven’s.

Once you and Deanna had made it to Green Wall, it was already night time. You had been shopping around the plaza and getting coffee was the last stop for the night. The two of you said hello to Martha and Rose, the ones working today’s closing shift. The Green Wall ended up getting busy today, people came and went as there weren't many empty seats. Luckily Deanna had snatched a table the second a couple had left.

The door swung after a few minutes and eyes shifted towards the noise it made, more of a reflex than sheer curiosity. Steven had wandered in, his eyes looked at the busy place as he tried to make his way inside. He stood by the register as Martha was taking another order, he fidgeted with the strap of his bag, his shoulders  were upwards and closer to his jaw, and his eyes gazed around, as if to busy himself. Steven looked nervous, perhaps even overwhelmed.

“Isn’t that tomorrow’s date?” Deanna spoke from beside you.

“Yeah. His name is Steven.” She frowned at your response.

“Wasn't it  Jake?” You shook your head.

“I think Jake and Steven are brothers.” 

“Then why ask him out?” You shrugged.

“He seems nice enough. That, and he’s cute.” Deanna shoved you playfully as she pointed at Steven with her chin. You got the message and stood up, making your way towards the man.

Once the two of you were at a good distance, she spoke up gently, not wanting to startle him. 

“Hey there, stranger.” Steven turned to look around, his gaze landed on you.

“Hey, a bit busy, innit?” You nodded.

“More than usual. Probably has to do with that new exhibit of yours.” He frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “The museum.”

“Oh, right! Yeah, of course.” He slapped his forehead playfully, looking around. “At least there’s good business today. Place deserves it.” Steven looked back at you.

“Thanks. We work very hard to make everything as good and fresh as possible.”

“Do you own the place?” His eyes widened. You laughed, slapping his shoulder gently.

“No, no. I work here, just not today as you can see.” Steven nodded slowly as you spoke, his mouth forming an ‘O’ as he let out a quick laugh. “Do you want to sit down with me? While you wait, in case you have somewhere else to be.”

“Only place would be my flat, I think Gus can wait a bit.” Steven said and you raised an eyebrow. “My goldfish, he has one fin.”

“Like Nemo?” Steven laughed at that. A hearty laugh that showed you his teeth.

“Just like him, little fella is very special to me.” You couldn’t help but laugh back.

“I bet he’s one lucky little guy.” Steven stared at you again, he seemed to do that a lot. You were not used to it. Then, his eyes softened and creased at the corners as he smiled. He had pretty lashes, long and thick, his eyes doe-like as the warm lighting shined on them.

The sound from the music on the speakers faintly seeped through your ears as time went by.

Take me out tonight

Where there’s music and there’s people

And they’re young and alive

“Yeah, he is.”

Driving in your car

I never, never want to go home

“Are you two ready to order?” Rose spoke suddenly. The two of you turned towards her. From the way she grinned at the two of you, you knew she was having a laugh. You rolled your eyes at her.

Because I haven’t got one

Anymore

“I’ll go and sit down.” You placed a hand on his back gently before walking towards the table you were sharing with Deanna. 

Deanna eyed you with a smirk once you sat down. “What was that?”

Driving in your car

Oh, please don’t drop me home

“Rose decided to interrupt us.” You responded.

“I know she did. Poor lad had heart eyes and all of that.” Deanna started gathering her things. You raised an eyebrow at her and she scoffed. “You’ll need another chair, unless the man offers his lap for you.”

“Thank you, Deanna. Let me know when you get home.” The woman bent down gave you a quick hug. You hugged her back.

Because it’s not my home, it’s their home

And I’m welcome no more

“Sure thing. Don’t forget to tell me how things go, yeah?” You nodded at her, she waved at you as she left your table. She walked through the dining area, waved goodbye at Martha and Rose, then she left the shop.

Steven came back a few minutes later. He smiled nervously as he gestured at the now empty seat. You nodded at him.

“Did your friend leave already?” He asked as he sat down, placing his bag on his lap. He looked around one more time.

“Do crowded spaces make you anxious?” You asked him with curiosity as you took a sip of your drink.

“No. It’s just that I’ve never stayed long enough to take a good look at the place.” He was still looking around, his eyes filled with awe.

“You seem to like it.” You placed your drink down. Once again, his eyes found yours.

“I do. It’s rather pretty here, and it feels cozy.” He admitted to you with a sheepish smile.

“I think so too, but this isn’t better than the museum.” When you said that, you had said it in a playful way. However, he shook his head with a frown.

To die by your side

Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

“The museum? No, no. I love the museum, yes. But the employees are much nicer here, I have to admit.” When he said that last sentence, he grinned at you and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Don’t think that’ll get you a free drink, sir. Are your coworkers not nice?”

“Most are, some barely notice me. Then there’s my boss Donna who makes me stay overnight almost every night, she also calls me Stephen.” He gave you a tight smile, his eyes shifted to your hands when your fingers rubbed the side of your drink in a distracted manner.

“You can always stop by and fill out a job application.” You offered. 

“No, no, it would be a mistake to hire me here. I would end up setting the place on fire somehow.” The two of you laughed. The conversations around you seemed to dissipate as you both kept on talking.

Take me anywhere, I don’t care

I don’t care, I don’t care

“Well, I think you would make a great barista, you just haven’t tried.” As soon as you said that, you heard Martha call out an order, to which Steven turned around immediately.

“That’s mine. I’ll be right back” Steven got up from his chair, placing his bag down on the chair and walked towards the counter.

Steven behaved like he was dreading something would inconvenience him along the way. His shoulders held tension while he dug around one of his front pockets. As he received his drink, you saw Martha smile at him and he gave her a quick nod. You didn’t know if he smiled back, but the slight quirk on his lip as he turned around to walk back towards you, told you he might’ve.

And in the darkened underpass

I thought oh, God, my chance has come at last

The soft light of the café showered him. Brown skin glowing a honey gold, soft messy curls that seemed chocolate brown instead of black, and full lips with a hint of pink. His clothes, loose and big, hid his frame under layers of funky prints and fabric. 

By the time he returned, the tension on his body was gone. His long lashes shined under the light and his eyes seemed to twinkle when he smiled nervously at you.

“Everything alright?” He spoke, taking his seat once again.

But then a strange fear gripped me

And I just couldn’t ask

Then it hit you. 

This was the man who you’d been spying on for the past month. The man who you would unconsciously await to see turn on his light at night, and then you’d watch him read by the table. Unbeknownst to him, you had formed a routine around his schedule, a parasocial behavior with a man you’d never met before. Something a creep would do. Something you did.

You couldn’t talk to him. You couldn’t get to know him. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You grabbed your bag. “It was nice having a little chat, Steven. I have to go now. I was out all day and I have to work tomorrow.”

“No worries. Do you want me to walk you to the tube, or to a cab maybe?” He was about to stand up, but you shook your head.

“It 's alright. The stop is not that far from here. And you just got here. Enjoy your night, Steven.” You stood up and felt your heart tighten when Steven spoke.

“Thank you, love. Be safe on your way home, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow?” He was smiling so warmly at you.

“I’m afraid tomorrow will be just as busy. Maybe another day. I’m sorry.” Steven shook his head this time.

“Don’t be. I understand now that I see how packed it gets in here. I hope we get to know each other more another day. Stay safe.”

Oh, there is a light that never goes out

There is a light that never goes out

“Goodbye, Steven.”

That night when you got home, you moved your workspace away from the window and back to your bedroom. From the gap between the drapes, you saw a light turn on from his apartment. You pulled the fabric shut.

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[loveforcarmen]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 - CH. 7

- carmen berzatto x fem!oc coworker | - slowburn

NOTE: warning, this chapter contains out of character carmen 🤗

AN: hello, apologies for not updating for like 2 weeks?? anyways, enjoy this filler chapter and i apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes!!

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single - the neighbourhood

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As Margaret got ready, her stomach was filled with anxiety. She huffed, digging into her dusty blue makeup bag, pulling out a neutral eyeshadow pallet.

She blended a warm tone of eyeshadow over her eyelids, sitting propped on her bathroom counter, feet in the sink. After drawing a clean-cut black wing of eyeliner over it, she glued on some fake lashes. Just enough to enhance her eyes, not to overpower them.

She had never been one to wear much makeup, mostly due to the fact she worked in the back of the kitchen, not the front. It came as a surprise to see her glammed up like this ; she looked like a doll.

After scrunching some of her curl-defining mousse in her hair, she headed to her bedroom, preparing to tackle her closet to find the right outfit for dinner. She rotated through a variety of styles: a pantsuit, a two piece outfit, a SKIMS dress, etc.

She finally settled on a low cut, shimmery light gold dress that hugged around her waist perfectly. Pairing it with a pair of 1 inch clear platform heels, she added a gold heart necklace to complete the look.

As she paced back and forth in her kitchen, waiting for Carmen to knock, she nervously chewed on her lip. She would surely chew through the damn thing by the end of the night.

Knock. Knock.

Margaret perked her head up at the knocks, the hard wooden, hard wooden door reverberating within the door frame. She drew in a breath, composing herself before opening the door, "Hi." she greeted him with a warm smile, subconsciously crossing one leg in front of the other.

He wore an all black Hockerty suit, paired with a sleek pair of Florsheim leather brown shoes. His hair was worn in its usual style, a jumble of mess of curls on his head.

"This isn't a date. It's an apology dinner." he reminded himself. His eyes glided down Margaret, taking in her entire being. As much as he didn't want to admit, she looked fucking good.

"How do I look?" she gave him a playful spin, being careful not to trip over her heels. Her Tory Burch Reva leather clutch swung around with her body, hitting the doorframe with a thud.

He shook his head, "Let's go." he laughed, still in the doorway. His hand rested on each side, practically leaning into her apartment.

"You're no fun." she spat, grabbing her long, black coat off the hook by the door. Although it was spring, the nights still remained cold enough to require another layer.

As they walked through Chicago, the night sky was clear of clouds. Though it was impossible to see the stars due to the city lights, Margaret still craned her neck up at the sky. Her hand reached over, grabbing Carmen's forearm lightly as she walked.

Carmen looked down at her hand, taken aback by the sudden contact. "What's your thing with stars? I've noticed that you've had this infatuation for them since you started." he asked as they walked.

"Well," she looked back down, rubbing the back of her neck, "There was this saying my mother always told me." They rounded the corner to the L, walking up the steps that led to the elevated platform.

When they reached the top, she continued, "She always said 'you can find me in the stars, even when I'm not with you'. The meaning obviously carries more weight now but..." she waved her hands in the air as she spoke, "It sounds like a cringey quote but it truly means a lot to me."

Carmen solemnly nodded, not wanting to continue to press on the subject. The train loudly pulled up to the platform, stopping with a sharp hiss of smoke. The doors opened, traffic immediately started to funnel in and out. Margaret luckily found a seat near the door, nestling herself down.

Carmen stood in front of her, hands loosely holding the pole. Whenever he took the train, he tried to come in contact with everything as little as possible. Margaret sat with her legs tightly crossed, arms folded, attempting to take up as little space as possible. She noticed and older woman limping through the crowded car out of the corner of her eye. Swiftly standing up, she offered her seat to the woman.

"Thank you dear." the woman said, sitting down slowly. She sat with her brittle arms crossed, arthritic hands on her lap.

Margaret nodded her head, standing next to Carmen. "Do you mind if I just hold onto your arm?" she asked quietly. The trained started back up, torque causing everyone who was standing to slightly sway.

Carmen turned to her, gaving her a puzzled look but obeyed her request. She hooked her arm under his, linking tightly around his bicep. "Why?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"Look to your right, a few seats down." she whispered back. Carmen slowly turned his head to see a man, sitting in the middle of the car floor. He was clearly on some type of drug, bothering the young women who were alone for pictures of various body parts. Hands, feet, calves, etc.

Carmen turned away from him, staring straight ahead, keeping the man in the corner of his eye. Margaret felt his grip on her tighten, just slightly. As the train moved on, their bodies swayed in unison with the movements of which ever direction they were headed.

Getting off at their stop, they walked only just a short distance to the restaurant. The conversation between them was light, not dwelling on the same topic for too long.

They arrived to the restaurant, Margaret greeting the host warmly as Carmen checked them in. The host walked them to a booth that was cozily tucked in the corner.

The establishment was intimidatingly high end to say the least.

The dining room had booths lining the walls while circular wooden tables took up the space unused space in middle. Angular chandeliers hung down the center of the room in a warm lighting. Along the wide back wall sat a rich, mahogany bar. Illuminated shelves sat behind the counter, housing a variety of liquors to choose from

After seating them, the host handed them each a menu, the front cover reading the name "The Albert" in pristine gold lettering. "Your server will be here shortly." the host said kindly, walking back to the entrance of the restaurant.

As Carmen and Margaret flipped through the extravagant menu, each dish more impressive than the next, she chewed on her bottom lip. She nervously looked at the prices, the last thing she wanted to do was allow him to drop a shit-ton of money on a meal he could easily make.

The server approached them, smiling warmly, "What can I get started for you?" she asked. "We can start off with drinks and appetizers, or we can jump right into the menu." She clasp her blue notepad tightly in her hand, pen at the ready.

Carmen looked over at Margaret, allowing her to take the reins. "I think we're gonna need more time with the menu, but we can order drinks now. Can I please get an Old Fashioned?" she asked politely.

"Of course you may," the server said, moving onto to Carmen. "And for you?" she looked up from her notepad, eyeing Carmen down.

"Hennessy please." Carmen said, looking up at the waitress. His voice was sultry with his reply ; Margaret didn't think it was intentional but it still struck a nerve with her.

"Yes sir," she batted her lashes at Carmen, "We'll get that out shortly."

"Ok." he quietly, waiting for her to leave. The server turned on her heel, walking back into the kitchen with their order. Carmen turned back to Margaret, "You ever been here before?" He clasped his hands in front of them on the table, straightening his posture.

She shook her head quickly, "Are you kidding? Hell no." She looked around the establishment, absorbing its large gradniuer. "Look at this place."

The drinks were eventually brung out, the food following shortly behind. The porcelain dishes were placed on the dark wood table, the food plated so creatively it could be considered art. Margaret had order a duck honey glaze with a spring onion and an alpine radish to top it. It was sided with mustard seed dollop spread, the sweet taste was paired perfectly with the acidic nature of the spread.

She took a bite, her expression widening with each chew. "This is the best thing I've ever tasted." she took another small bite, "No offense." she added, smiling up at Carmen.

He laughed, wiping his mouth off with a napkin, "Absolutely none taken." he adjusted in his seat, "I actually created this dish for this place." he said causally, taking another bite his food.

Her jaw figuratively hung slack, "I mean," she regained herself, straighting her posture in her chair, "It's not surprising. The dish is alright I guess." she took another bite, fighting back a playful smile.

"Just alright?" he recited, cocking his head slightly to the side. He too fought back a smile that was starting to creep across his lips.

Her gaze flicked to her plate as she answered, "Yup." she looked back up, taking another bite.

There was beat between them until Carmen spoke, "You ever think about making a dish for a restaurant?" he took a long sip of his drink, setting it down gently on the table.

"Absolutely not." she shook her head, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chewed, "I don't think I'm creative enough for that. I'm no Sydney or Marcus."

"Eh, you'll get there. I got a feeling." he replied, looking down at his plate as he continued to eat.

She felt something odd grow inside of her at the sudden praise from him. Unable to help the smile that bloomed, she looked down at her plate in a weak attempt to conceal her joy. "Thank you."

The two spent the rest of the evening talking about mostly food. Slowly becoming buzzed from the liquor, Margaret felt her confidence growing. They began to critic the dishes that were sent out and took notes on how the place was ran. Intently listening to how orders were called out in the kitchen, how the servers operated, everything. They were getting along, with no issues. A stark contrast to their (usual) rocky relationship.

"Woah, I think that's enough for you." Carmen grabbed Margaret's glass before she could take another sip. She had grown quite tipsy, which was unfortunate for her since they had walked to the restaurant.

"But-" she started before being cut off by the server presenting the bill.

"How is the bill being paid?" she asked softly, looking over at Carmen as he signaled to himself.

"Carmen," Margaret said as she dug into her bag, pulling out her wallet.

"Maggie, no." Carmen said, not looking up from his wallet as he pulled the card out. He gave the server a small smile, then turned back to Margaret after she left.

"At least let me cover the tip." she said, her lips forming into a pert pout. Carmen stared at her, longer than anticipated then blinked rapidly before answering, as if he was trying to clear his head.

"I planned this. I'll pay." he leaned back in into the leather cushion of the booth, "I know the owner so I get a discount anyways. I made a fucking dish for their menu, a discount is the least they could do." Carmen said, sounding awfully pretentious. "I didn't mean it like that." he added, leaning back up.

The server returned with Carmen's card, then slipped him a note along with it. Carmen opened it under the table, unsure if Margaret saw it or not. It was her number, scrawled in messy Sharpie along with her name. Carmen looked back up to find her in the kitchen, only to see that she was already staring at him. She gave him a little wave, causing him to look away with rosy cheeks.

He wasn't used to being flirted with, so this came as a surprise to him. Growing up, he pretty much kept to himself and never got involved with the dating scene like most of his classmates.

Shortly after, Margaret and Carmen left the restaurant, beginning their trek to the L. The city was alive, which wasn't uncommon on a Friday night. Lights glowed in all directions, whether it be from cars or buildings.

"Margaret!" a male voice said from behind them. The pair stopped, lazily turning around to see who the voice belonged to.

"Matteo?" Margaret said in surprise, squinting her eyes as if he was far away. She walked over to give him a quick peck on the cheek, a custom in her family.

"How you doin, darling?" he asked, letting his hands fall to her waist, drinking in the sight of her. She looked absolutely delectable in her little gold dress, her gold necklace falling just before her cleavage.

"I'm great. Oh my gosh," she said sloppily, walking back over to put her hand on Carmen's shoulder, "This is my boss slash acquaintance, Carmen." she smiled at Carmen then looked at Matteo. "We just had dinner at.." she trailed off, looking over at Carmen for the answer.

"The Albert." Carmen finished for her, his voice cutting and mean. He sat with his gaze fixed on Matteo, staring hard at him.

"Yeah the Albert!" Margaret exclaimed, taking a step back to Matteo, "Carmen, this is Matteo by the way." she squeezed Matteo's shoulder, which coaxed a smile out of him. He glanced down at Margaret, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Carmen could see it plainly that he had it bad for the girl. The slightest touch from her was enough to plaster a stupid grin on his face. He watched as Matteo's hand snaked down to Margaret's waist, resting just above her ass.

"Are you guys doing anything?" he asked, barely giving Carmen a glance. As if he wasn't standing right fucking there.

"Um, I think we're both just going home." she smiled at him, unintentionally batting her lashes. She was fucking gone, logical thinking completely exiting her body in that moment.

"You could come back to my place, y'know." he said, finally giving Carmen a glance, "I can get her home, we live in the same building." he half suggested, half stated.

Carmen took a step towards Margaret, slowly pulling her away from Matteo, "Nah it's cool." he said, holding her firmly around the waist. "Let's go." he said softly to Margaret, walking away from Matteo.

"Don't be a stranger baby!" Matteo called, walking backwards from the 2, hands in his coat pockets. With his backed turned towards him, Carmen rolled his eyes at his pathetic attempt to hit on Margaret.

-

To say the least, it was a struggle trying to control drunk Margaret. Carmen was constantly apologizing for her actions to the poor people on the train and sidewalk who encountered her. It was quite annoying actually to him, as it continued after getting off the train. "Hey." Carmen backed her up, leaning her against a building. "Are you ok?" he asked sternly, annunciating each word.

Her voice was quiet, and her face—high cheekbones, sharp nose—was placid. "I'm perfect." she smiled up at him, her head spinning. She leaned to one side, relying on Carmen's strength to keep her upright.

He grabbed her arm, walking her over to a nearby bench as if she was child. His fingers pressed into the soft skin of her arms, growing tighter the more she resisted. "Sit." he demanded, pushing her down onto the bench.

Stubbornly, she sat down on the bench, resting her hands on her lap. Crouching down, Carmen began to slip off her heels, setting them in her lap.

"What are you doing?" she rhetorically asked. She looked down, eyes following Carmen as he pushed himself back up.

He turned around, hands slightly extended. "Get on." he said, his face turned away from her.

Confused but still obeying his request, she grabbed her heels in one hand then climbed onto Carmen's back. The warmth radiated from his body, keeping her warm from the nipping night air.

Her arms hung limp in front of his chest, swaying with his body as he walked. As Carmen strolled through Chicago, Margaret would point out memories from her adolescence, saying something along the lines of "That's where my dad crashed his car" or "That was my first job".

As they approached her apartment building, Margaret leaned her head against Carmen's back, arms still hanging lazily over his shoulders. "Hey." he poked her in her side, "Don't fall asleep just yet."

She grumbled, lifting her head up. "Home already?" she looked down at Carmen, her undereyes beginning to puff with sleep.

"What floor and apartment number?" he asked, turning his head as far as he could towards her. He could barely see her from the corner of his eye, only able to make out her blonde hair.

"216, floor 2." she said, reaching into her purse to hand Carmen the key. As he made his way up to her apartment, her weight became heavier and heavier, a sign that she was dozing off again.

He slipped the key into the lock, turning the rusted handle. It didn't budge so he tried again, ending up with the same results as before. "You got to wiggle it first." Margaret said softly, her lips brushing against his ear as she spoke. He swallowed a wad of spit, uncomfortable with their closeness.

But was it truly uncomfortableness he was feeling?

He wiggled the handle, then turned it again, opening the door this time. He nudged it open with his foot, walking inside of the small living space. Waking up Margaret with another poke, he slipped her off his back, making sure to hold her upright until she regained her footing.

"Thanks Carmen." she said, keeping herself up. She held onto Carmen's forearm for some support. She was close enough for Carmen to smell the honey and citrus in her hair, the scent bringing him a sense of serenity.

"Let's get you to bed." he said, ignoring her thanks. He needed to cut himself off from her and he needed to do it now.

Margaret turned on her heel, walking down the short hallway to her bedroom. Carmen trailed behind her, hands hovering at her sides in case she toppled over. "Yay round 2 of taking care of drunk Maggie" he thought to himself. This was a bad look for her, having to be taken care of by her boss not once but twice. Carmen repeated his routine of taking care of drunk Margaret, an exact repeat of when she spent the night at his house.

He put her to bed, carefully pulling the sheets up to her shoulders. He crouched down at the side of the bed, eye level with her. "I have a bucket right on the side of the bed in case you puke." he said quietly,his voice barely registering as a whisper.

Margaret's gaze darted to his lips then back to match his eyes, "You're a great boss Carmy." she softly smiled.

Pushing himself up off the ground, he looked down at her, "That's an overstatement." he dryly laughed.

Carmen walked over to flick off her small lamp when her voice spoke again, "Are you leaving?" she asked timidly.

Carmen felt his cheeks grow hot, the knot in his stomach swelling. He felt as if he was going to be sick, his gut twisting in every direction.

"I'll be on the couch."

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Margaret in her own thoughts. He shakily let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Quickly walking to the sink, he turned it on, splashing the lukewarm water onto his face. He sighed into his hands, slowly dragging them down his face, allowing them to fall to his sides.

He grabbed the hem of his dress shirt, bringing it to up to dry his face off. The tips of his curls dripped water onto his forehead, agitating him. His chest began to close up as he drew in shaky breaths, breathing as if someone was clutching his throat.

"No, no, no." he whispered to himself, ripping open the collar of his shirt due to his increasing body temperature. The action caused a few buttons to fly off, landing on the kitchen floor. "Shit." he said aloud, collecting them quickly.

He gathered his suit jacket, tucking it under his arm as he left her apartment. He hurried down the flights of stairs, harshly pushing the doors open. He stepped into the cold night air, breathing heavily. Stopping at the entrance of the apartment, he rested his hands on his head, slowly walking down the street.

He didn't have time to have feelings for someone. No matter how he felt, it just couldn't happen. He was better off having Margaret hate him than have her feel any other emotion towards him.

Carmen pushed it out of his mind as he shoved his hands in his pockets, hurrying down the street to his apartment.

END

-

AN: omg rereading this, i realized how nasty this chapter is wtf

[inbarfink]

Okay, this is probably just me being Very Silly but… I think Roleswap AUs are a lot of fun, not just like… as a character design exercise thingy, but as a character exploration and analysis exercise… thingy.

Like, you know, it’s a game of ‘what would this character do if they were in that situation that this other character was in?’, ‘how much would change if those were the circumstances of this character’s life?’, ‘how much do you have to change about a character to make them work in this specific narrative role - and how much you just cannot change without making the character unrecognizable?’

So I’ve had a lot of fun playing around with my Adventure Time Roleswap AUs (you can get a better look at them with the AT Roleswap Tag on my blog). 

And I’ve been thinking if I could do a similar thing for Invader Zim - both because IZ has these clear Four Leads that you can swap around very neatly (actually much more than AT does lol) and… mostly because I’ve been going through yet another of my Literally Can’t Think of Anything but Invader Zim Phases and Roleswap AUs offer an exciting new opportunity to Rotate These Characters in My Head.

(For the sake of clarity, I’ll be using ‘the Alien’, ‘the Kid’, ‘the Robot’ and ‘the Sibling’ when referring to the Narrative Roles of Zim, Dib, GIR and Gaz respectively. So if I’m talking about a Dib-Zim Roleswap I’ll be talking about Zim-as-the-Kid and Dib-as-the-Alien. It might lead to weird turns-of-phrase later down the line, like Sibling!Dib when Dib is obviously always a sibling - but at least I hope it’ll be less clunky and more clear that way lol)

So, yeah, I had some Thoughts and Considerations about the idea of a Zim-Dib GIR-Gaz Roleswap, but all-in-all things fall into place pretty easily. Playing on Dib’s relatively-more-heroic role and his only-sane-man shtick by having him as a kinda Irken Rebel - he might still have the interest in magic and supernatural things that Mainstream Irken Science does not acknowledge, but mostly he’s seeing as ‘crazy’ for such ridiculous concepts as ‘conquering the galaxy just for the sake of it is Bad Actually’ and ‘maybe it’s kinda stupid to pick our leaders based entirely on how tall they are’ and ‘the Tallest are obviously blatantly figureheads and the Control Brains are running the show’. 

And to add insult to injury, it’s not just that his fellow Irkens don’t listen to his ideas - it’s that they don’t even have enough respect to treat him as an actual dangerous enemy of the state. Instead he’s seen as a crackpot and a joke. He’s basically constantly avoiding the obvious Existence Evaluation he deserves because the Tallests keep procrastinating it and pushing it back in favor of more ‘important things’. And, like, it’s not like Dib wants to be executed by the state for the crime of free thought… but it’ll be nice to know that he’s seen as a real threat. 

And of course while he’s better than most Irkens at the whole ‘Space Imperialism is Bad Actually’ thing, he still hasn’t unlearned all of the Irken propaganda about their own superiority (he’s got a Green Savior Complex basically) … and also he's got his own complex about his own superiority. Like, yeah, he’s infuriated by his people’s obsession with height because it’s a stupid illogical prejudice… but also specifically because it makes people disrespect him. When his two lazy and stupid smeethood bullies were made supreme leaders of the empire that was kinda the last straw for him.

Oh, in this AU the Tallests are basically the Same except their colors are switched. So now Red is the sillier and dumber one and Purple is the relatively more competent one. And on one hand Dib is the only Irken who seems to understand how thoroughly unfit to rule these two clowns are but he is also kinda obsessed with making them acknowledge his superiority even though he knows their opinion shouldn’t matter and thus making him the biggest clown of them all, in a way.

I’m still ironing out the details of how he gets to Earth. Something about using his hacking skills to infiltrate Operation Impending Doom 2 to try and sabotage it from within. Then, like, maybe the Earth ‘assignment’ was a trap laid by the Control Brains to get him out of the way. Or maybe he picked Earth because although the Empire sees it as unimportant - Dib thinks it has powerful arcane significance that makes it the perfect foundation for his resistance against the Empire or something like that.

I’m mostly thinking which of these is the snappiest and easiest to explain, but I do enjoy the idea of it being a trap cause it creates the possibility of a “the Alien discovers their plan is a big fat lie” scenario like in ETF, but rather than being utterly despondent and depressed like Canon Zim - Alien!Dib will be joyous and jubilantly validated at the idea that he was considered a notable enough threat to get out of the way with such an elaborate trick.

And Zim as the son of Professor Membrane is also a fun concept to consider. It’s very funny to think of him as still a megalomaniac trying to take over the world while also being just a human kid. He wants to defeat Dib because he sees him as a threat for his world domination plans (maybe not even understanding that Dib is not actually a world-conquering rival) and cause he believes that if he exposes or kills Dib he can get his hands on the advanced alien tech, which is the edge he needs in order to take over the world.

You can justify his world-conquering-obsession as, like, him growing up under the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy and he figured the only way to escape Membrane’s shadow is to go totally against everything he stands for, or that he’s subconsciously seeking revenge against the world and humanity for taking away his father's love and attention, or that he’s hoping that if he becomes an Actual Threat to the world, his dad will have to pay attention to him for a change ,or maybe it’s just ‘Zim is Just Weird Like That’. Or probably some combination of all of the above.

GIR and Gaz slot pretty effortlessly into their new roles. Sibling!GIR could be literally Zim’s little brother, or like, some genetically engineered dog monster Professor Membrane made in an afternoon. But personality-wise there’s no need to change much outside of maybe needing to tone a human version of GIR down just a tad because a human child has some biological, legal and physical limitations that GIR would otherwise lack.

Robot Gaz is basically like ‘Dib stole and reprogrammed a SIR Unit to have Free Will, still somehow struggles with the idea that Free Will means she can disobey him as well’. Pretty much as soon as they landed on Earth she acclimated better than Dib did and developed a fondness for Earth’s junk food and video games. She generally does her own thing and doesn’t really listen to Dib’s schemes to develop Earth’s defenses or harness some sort of supernatural forces against the Irken Empire or foil Zim’s plans or whatever - but mostly because disagrees with Dib’s methods and attitude rather than his goals. 

She does prefer the Earth over the Irken Empire and she does have some affection for Dib despite also finding him so annoying. She just refuses to cooperate with plans she thinks are frivolous or stupid or plainly just for Dib’s ego. When push really comes to shove, when she actually believes Dib and/or the Earth is in danger, she would come to help… usually.

So yeah, that Roleswap works pretty smoothly, but the problem starts if I try to do the two other sides of this Roleswap cube. the 'Invader GIR' and 'Invader Gaz' scenarios. This is where I get stuck... And the thing isn’t that the characters aren’t complex and versatile enough - I actually think the IZ characters are pretty multidimensional in their ridiculousness. 

It’s just that Dib and Zim’s psychology are really designed for them to play the roles of Protagonist and Antagonist - they’re very much defined to their very core by how driven and motivated they are and how much they want to take center stage. Zim's so self-obsessed he pretty much has to take over any narrative you place him in. And like 50% of Dib’s psyche can be summarized as a terminal case of Main Character Syndrome. Meanwhile, while GIR and Gaz have their own motivations - but GIR’s are generally too wild, capricious and frivolous to actually motivate a Plot, while Gaz’s very much defined by how mundane all of her motivations are. So you really have to work extra hard to make sure Zim and Dib, even when relegated to the sidekick role, don’t still find a way to steal the show.

Honestly, doing Zim as the Robot is actually something I think I can make work. If you just play up a few of Zim’s wackier elements - and especially his blind obedience and dedication to his superiors (which in this case would be Alien GIR), I think you can get a version of Zim that is recognizably Zim while still sticking mainly to the Wacky Comic Relief role.

(And for the record, Robot Zim is a modified SIM Unit, which is a Standard Issue Minion. What does the Z stand for? The Z stands for ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM, obviously!)

Sibling Dib was kind of a weird journey for me because at first I thought I had an easy solution for it - just Bill-fy Dib! Keep all of Dib’s bolster and UFO obsession stuff, but minus the fact that he can actually recognize an alien standing in front of his face. Probably because he just doesn’t want to admit his sister found an alien before he did - he just refuses to believe GIR is an alien and going off his wild-goose chases against his own phony conspiracy theories.

But… I think that idea is, like, too effective at keeping Dib away from the limelight? I mean, that would basically relegate him exclusively to Comic Relief and someone Gaz could have conversations with and very little plot relevancy. And I think we should be able to do better by Sibling Dib. Some way to keep him away from the Main Character Role, but still have him as a relevant and useful character from time-to-time?

Putting GIR in any sort of lead role is the much bigger problem. Like I said - GIR just too deranged and too uncontrollable to hold most plotlines, even on Invader Zim. And I can imagine grounding him just a tad, you can do, like ‘alien Invader comes to earth in order to conquer it - realizes he likes junk food and stupid TV so much that he doesn’t want to do it anymore, but still lacks any real concerns for human life or morality’. You know, I’m imagining wacky misadventures that are basically in the spirit of ‘what if SpongeBob SquarePants lacked any sense of right and wrong’ - and that will be a viable narrative, but I’m worried it’s getting too far away from the sheer id-like essence of GIR.

On the Kid corner, obviously you can make narratives in which Gaz and her motivations move the story along - Invader Zim Canon did it multiple times. It’s more of a question of how much we can keep this up. Like, okay, this is purely me and my stupid personal hang-ups. But what I’m looking for is an AU that really feels like it could be its own standalone show, and obviously it’s not going to be the same as Canon IZ - like the Invader Dib roleswap is going to have a slightly more standard heroic narrative compared to the total Villain Protagonist setup of the canon - but I want to make sure everyone fulfill their new Narrative Roles to the level you can imagine a Variety of Episode Plots that fit the 11-minutes-and-occasional-double-length format of IZ. 

And with Gaz being really defined by the fact that she cares more for being left alone or the mundane things in life or enacting terrible revenge in the name of the mundane things in life than for any of the sci-fi shit or saving the world- it kinda limits the amount of plots she should be willing to participate in and/or requires a lot of extra Set-Up to explain why she’s emotionally involved in the plot. 

I mean, I can certainly imagine a story about a hedonistic would-be Invader making a bizarre harebrained scheme to get his hands on a ridiculous amount of tacos which somehow spirals into attracting the ire of some scarily competent and spiteful little girl by, like, interrupting her Super Mario Odyssey speedrun or something and so she causally takes down his whole operation. But that sort of setup works better for a sort of hyperformulastic show like ‘Phineas and Ferb’- and ‘Phineas and Ferb’ is lovely, but Invader Zim really benefits from a wide variation of plots and episode structure. 

(That’s also the problem with a Tallests-Zim Membrane-Dib roleswap. Although the idea of an P&F style sketch starring the two lazy goofball Invaders who are just trying to get their incredibly obnoxious and megalomaniac boss off their back and are repeatedly accidently foiled by a brilliant hypercompetent child genius who also somehow remains consistently oblivious to the fact that they are aliens trying to take over the world is very Fun and I should probably do something Separate with it later)

And then there’s the idea of a Zim-Gaz GIR-Dib roleswap which is… I don’t even know where to start. That’s pretty much what that one body-switch-themed guest issue of the IZ Comics used basically because it’s the one that breaks the show’s premise the most thoroughly. The show’s most ambitious and least competent character swapped with its least ambitious and most competent and the most grounded character is swapped with the most unhinged. I am still really stuck on how to make it work?

The only real idea I have for now is maybe taking inspiration from Alien Gaz from that aforementioned comic issue’s characterization - not of Gaz-as-Zim, but of Zim-as-Gaz. Something about an Alien Invader who is genuinely invested in conquering the planet but also she keeps getting distracted? It’s hard to really say when, like I said, that’s really the only thing I have right now. 

Perhaps I need to think about all of this a bit more, or perhaps the real lesson of this Character Exploration Thingy is just that those kinda roleswaps just don’t work with the Invader Zim cast?