#i filtered it slightly because i fear it was too dark

[miirohs]

no body, no crime [o.p.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 1.8k cw: reader shoots someone, poor hurt/comfort an: this one is dedicated to the local piastri lover em because that Danny Ric fic is never leaving the editing stage,,, had to change it up a bit tho bc the beginning was hampering the rest of it, but anyways I’m continuing the 2 am shitposting tradition 💀

The clock ticked softly in the background, a cold breeze filtering through the room as you curled further into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the noise. The nightlights shone through the thin curtains, the light of the bright neon billboards cast onto the floor.

Oscar wasn’t home again, leaving you to your lonesome in his penthouse in London, something about an emergency meeting at eleven in the night.

You weren’t worried much about the call time, but you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach as your head rested on his shoulder, still too tired to make out what he murmured in a low voice on the phone.

Whatever it was sounded important but he didn’t let you hear anything, herding you back to the bedroom with the promise that he’d be back sooner if not later. You held onto his hand, eyes shutting for good as the warmth of his hand slipped away once again.

With that, you fell into a fretful sleep, waking up at odd times for no explainable reason.

You felt dreadful as your eyes opened again, apartment eerily quiet, vision blurring as you read the clock.

2:45 A.M. It read.

You crawled to the end of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you reached out for your phone. Not a single notification on the screen and you sighed, opening up the messages app.

As you opened Oscars contact, something outside clicked faintly, making you jump. You slid off the bed, feet padding against the wooden flooring as you wandered into the hall.

You didn’t see any guards posted, even as you called out names you could barely remember hoarsely, getting no response back even as your voice bounced around the hall. It was slowly starting to freak you out, but you figured it was just the lack of sleep getting to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this paranoid, and it wasn’t just for nothing.

The lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and you turned on the flashlight on your phone, your free hand pressed to the glass window. Your hands trembled slightly as you returned to tapping against the screen, typing up a message to send to Oscar.

where are you rn? heard something outside, can’t see guards anywhere.

The screen lit up, speech bubbles popping up for a couple moments before diapering entirely.

lmk when you’re on your way.

You sent the message, sliding onto a chair and hunching over the granite countertop. The phone rang only moments later, and you snapped out of your stupor, looking at the caller id.

[Osc].

You swiped, sliding off the chair and walking into the kitchen.

“Y/n? Is that you, baby?”

“Mmm, it is,” You mumbled sleepily, fingers running along the countertops as you reached to open the cabinet, "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back," Oscar replied, tone relieved. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

“No, I thought i heard something,” You paused, anxiety thrumming under the surface of your skin as something clicked again, “And the guards aren’t here, they-”

“What do you mean not there?” You held the phone away, eyes widening as he cussed softly. The shock and fear in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

"I don't know," you stammered, glancing around the dark kitchen, "I called out for them, but no one answered. I thought it was just me being paranoid but…"

"Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. I'm almost there, and if anyone breaks through, there's a gun in my nightchest. Don’t use it, just scare them if you have to." He instructed, voice panicked. You paused as he rambled further, eyes landing on a glass half full sitting on the countertop next to the sink.

“What the…”

Your head was slammed into the counter, blinding white pain licking across your temple as you dropped the phone.

The glass shattered as you flailed, crumpling onto the floor. Your world spun, something wet staining your hand as you clutched your head.

Oscar was now frantically shouting through the phone, and your vision blurred as you scanned the floor for the bright light. The sound of your phone cracking made you scramble back, trying to stand up as the world spun under your feet.

You could barely see the assailant in the darkness of the apartment, barely illuminated by the lights of the city.

They lunged for you, barely missing as you scrambled to the side, back hitting a wall. It was barely seconds before they came for you, pressing you up against the wall with their gun, cutting off your circulation.

The cold metal dug into your neck, and you clawed at their clothed arms, aimlessly flailing. Your kicking paid off, as the intruder gasped in pain as you landed a kick to the crotch, gasping for air as you slid down. Despite the throbbing pain, you dogged again when something flew at your head, crawling to the living room and pulling yourself up against the coffee table.

The intruder closed in once again, swearing loudly as they limped towards you. Grasping blindly, your fingers closed around a metal vase, swinging it in their direction. It connected with a resounding thud and you got up, shoving past them in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You’d stunned them, but you weren’t sure how long it’d last, locking the door behind you as you fell to your knees, crawling over to his side of the bed, slumped against the bed as you opened the drawer.

Your fingers closed around the cold metal of the gun Oscar had mentioned, hand tensing and untensing as you stared down the shiny silver. Suddenly, the door banged again, and you froze.

The rush of blood drowned out the taunts, positioning yourself in a far corner of the room, eyes straining in the dark as the doorknob jiggled.

That didn’t last wrong, the wood of the door splintering and cracking. "Come out, you-" the intruder's voice was cut off by another loud bang on the door, hand reaching down to the handle through a crack in the door.

There was nothing but the bed between you now, the door finally giving way, allowing them to stumble into a room with a malevolent look.

Panic surged through you and you raised the gun as threateningly as you could.

He grabbed your wrist, wrenching the gun from your grasp and throwing it to the side. You struggled, kicking and clawing your way out of his grip, diving for the gun. They tackled you once again, and you both tumbled to the ground.

In the struggle, your finger dug into the trigger, losing circulation as he pinned you down, gun shaking uncontrollably.

A shot rang out, followed by an intense ringing in your ears, the grip on your hands loosening. Something warm splattered against your face, blood pooling at your sides and you could only stare in horror.

There was nothing but a ringing in your ear, staring into the darkness as if expecting something else. The door burst open and Oscar rushed in, his eyes wild with fear. It was the first time you’d seen him so unkempt, eyes widening in shock as he connected the dots between the smoking gun in your hand and the body on the floor.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, only as he pulled you closer to him, feeling the vibrations in his chest.

You couldn’t really make out what he was saying, slumping down against him as tears escaped your eyes.

You weren’t sure how much time passed till you could hear him again, blanking out for a couple of moments before you could remember again, sitting on the bed once again.

You could hear Oscar shouting in the other room, probably on the phone again. Something had gone terribly wrong for his composed self to be shattered.

He had Lando sitting in the room with you, monitoring you as your legs dangled off of the edge of the bed, staring down at hands crusted with blood.

Both of you didn’t say much, only nodding to any questions he asked, not even listening entirely.

“Is she doing okay?” You turned at the sound of Oscar's voice, opening then closing your mouth as Lando shrugged noncommittally, murmuring something about how he hadn’t heard a peep in the hour he’d been there.

You phased out again, only coming back to your senses as he gripped your hand, kneeling in front of you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, high contrast to the way he had been yelling earlier. "Can you look at me baby?"

You blinked, slowly focusing on his face. The tears were coming back, and you swallowed them down again, digging your nails into his hands instead.

He didn’t complain, running a soothing thumb over your knuckles. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to," He continued, "You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."

Even when you didn’t answer and stared blankly, he continued, listing things aimlessly to catch your attention.

“We’re going to increase security detail for you by the way. I won’t be leaving you on your own for a while…” He paused in his explanation, tilting his head at you. “Please talk to me, baby, I’m worried.”

You swallowed hard, feelings like a mess of strings as you opened your mouth. "I don't know what happened," You shuddered, voice barely above a whisper, "I just... I had to… I just killed someone. Oh god, I'm a killer."

Oscar's expression softened further in contrast to the steely tone he used as he gripped your hand tighter. “No, you didn’t. If anyone questions you, I was the one who did it. Not you, me. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to scum like that.”

“But then- then you’ll get in trouble,” You whispered, haunted by the thought, “they’ll arrest you.”

He smirked, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face as if he was contemplating something.

“Osc baby, what-“

“Whoever sent them,” He spoke with slight disgust, although you could tell that wasn’t at all the full gist of what he was feeling, “Started this trouble first. They can’t arrest me if there’s no body to be found. No body, no crime baby.”

You could only stare at him, heart aching slightly as he pulled your hands to him, allowing you to run your fingers through his messed up hair.

“You’re…” You didn’t finish the sentence, allowing him to stand up and hover over you.

“It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he wiped your unshed tears. “You’re strong, we all know that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sniffled, hands looping around his own as he cradled your face.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead, arms holding you down almost possessively, “Never when I’m here.”

[alastorsbookie10228]

Heyyy! Can you do a reader comforting the hazbin hotel men after a nightmare? Thank you! 🙃

Come here, let me hold you

Hazbin Hotel men (Alastor, Angel Dust, Adam, Lucifer)

Warning: established relationships (idk if that's a warning lol)

i'm gonna do Husk and Vox on a different post. i couldn't think at the moment, but they're on the way i promise!!!

Alastor never usually slept; only on rare occasions. but when you insisted on him laying next to you, how could he resist? he would normally read while you slept if he didn't have the intentions of hitting the hay. but tonight was one of the few nights that he slept. definitely one that you'll replay in the back of your mind for the rest of your afterlife.

you woke in the middle of the night, feeling an eerie presence behind you. when you turned and sat up, you were met with a truly horrifying sight.

Alastor was in his full demonic form, lanky limbs stretched out on the mattress and demonic symbols floating around him. his body twitched and his antlers grew in size as you watched, horror etched onto your features. tears pooled at your waterline as you watched, afraid to even move.

timidly, you stuck out a hand and gently touched Alastor's arm.

big mistake.

his eyes shot open and he looked at you with a glare so menacing you thought you were about to double die. he roughly grabbed your wrist, his claws digging slightly, making blood seep out. you look at your wrist, a shriek slipped past your lips without you realizing as you looked back at Alastor with fear in your eyes.

he must have known that you were scared because his grin faltered slightly.

"Al," you whisper, "i didn't mean...you were having a nightmare. i didn't know what to do."

Alastor's eyes softened and his antlers shrunk slightly, along with his limbs. the symbols disappeared and he slowly sat up, still maintaining eye contact with you. he slowly released your wrist and looked down at it.

"my dear..." Alastor said softly, no static filtering his voice. "i am...terribly sorry. i understand your true intentions, and i send my gratitude, but it's best to let me go through what i'm going through if you'd like to keep your life."

it wasn't intended to be threatening, you knew that. but you felt scared. scared that he might hurt you.

"i'm sorry...i just wanted to make sure you were okay"

he nods, his usual smile falling to a grin as he leans in and kisses your lips. "i truly apologize for making you fearful, dearest. let us rest."

he guided you to lay back down onto the soft mattress dressed in red satin sheets, his arm wrapping around you and holding you close.

"i love you, dearest"

Angel liked to sleep. a lot. he and Fat Nuggets would lay in bed all day. and it was even better if you were there, too.

you were currently laying next to Angel, fast asleep. you were a light sleeper, even Fat Nuggets shifting woke you up. you felt shifting beside you and stirred awake, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. you look around the dark room, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, then look over at Angel. he was sweating, and his eyebrows were arched in fear. you leaned over, elbow digging into the pillow beside Angel’s head as you placed your hands on his cheeks, gently stroking them with your thumbs.

“Angel, baby. come on, wake up.” you say softly. Angel starts to stir slightly and opens his eyes. they widen slightly when they land on you.

“oh my god, are you okay?!” Angel says, swiftly pulling you into a tight hug. he starts to cry softly into your shoulder, and all you can do is hold him.

“Angel, what happened?” you ask him. he pulls you closer, his body racking with sobs. you run your fingers through his hair and kiss his temple, your other hand rubbing his back.

“you died, baby. you died and i couldn’t do nothin’. i was so scared.” Angel said into your shoulder. you hold him tighter, worry etched onto your features.

“baby, i’m not going no where. i promise.” you say into his hair and kiss all over his face. “i love you too much to leave you, darling.”

Angel looked up at you and wiped his eyes with his upper set of arms, his bottom set hugging your waist. he smiles softly.

“promise, toots?”

“i promise, baby”

you lean down and kiss him softly. he smiles into the kiss and holds your face, but the kiss was short lived due to a needy pig squeezing himself between you two. you and Angel both laugh softly and snuggle Fat Nuggets. as you drift off, the last thing you hear is Angel’s soft voice.

“i love you, baby”

Adam is a pretty heavy sleeper. he sleeps through anything, especially when he's having a nightmare.

it was roughly 1am, and you were still up. you were tossing and turning, still unable to fall asleep. your head snapped to Adam when you heard a small whimper. his face was contorted in fear and his limbs were stretched around his side of the bed.

"Adam, honey. wake up" you whisper, leaning over to him.

no luck, obviously. he could sleep through a hurricaine.

"Adam, come on. wake up" you shake his shoulder, and his eyes snap open. his body shoots up as he gasps, his face buried in his hands.

"Adam...what's going on? you've been having nightmares all week, baby."

Adam looks at you with eyes that tug at your heart. pupils large and tears threatening to spill out of his beautiful golden eyes.

"oh, baby." You guide him to lay back down and cuddle into his side, your arm subconsciously stretching over his stomach, the part of his body that he's most insecure of, and caress his wing.

"i'm not leaving you, Adam. i promise" you say, leaning up and kissing his chin. "i love you too much to leave you"

Adam looked down at you, his eyes glossed with tears as he looks at you with pure love.

"you mean more to me than Eve and Lillith combined. i'd die if i didn't have you" Adam whispered, making your heart flutter.

"i love you, Adam. now sleep. i'll be here when you wake up"

Adam shifted onto his side so he faced you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, a dopey smile tugging at his lips.

"i love you, babe"

"go to sleep, dick master"

"FUCK YEAH! someone understands my role here! fucking finally!"

"shut up and sleep, Adam*

Lucifer liked to wrap his wings around you while you slept, mainly because it made you feel safe, but also because he wanted to assure himself you wouldn't leave like Lillith.

your eyes flutter open as you feel Lucifer's wings twitching against you. you peer up and see Lucifer crying in his sleep, a distressed look on his face. you quickly sit up and bring him close to you, holding him.

"hey, hey, it's okay, Luci. i need you to wake up, my love" you coo softly, looking down at his face.

his eyes open swiftly and his wings open to their full size, knocking the nearby painting off the wall.

"hey, you're okay. it's okay" you say to him, your heart breaking as he looks up at you with fear in his glossed-over eyes.

"you...you're still here? you didn't leave?" Lucifer says softly, his hand reaching up to touch your face. your heart aches even more as he says this.

"no baby, i didn't leave. i'll never leave. i promise" you say, running your fingers through his hair.

his large red irises bore into you lovingly as a tear falls from his eye.

"you...you won't?" Lucifer questions, and you shake your head.

"never ever. i'll stay here as long as you'll let me" you say, leaning down to peck his lips.

he looks up at you with a small smile. his eyes say everything his mouth can't right now.

"come on, Luci. let's go back to bed." you say, guiding him to lay back down. once you're comfortably situated, he buries his face in your chest and falls asleep rather quickly.

you giggle softly, "good night Lucifer. i love you"

[thepixelelf]

ah! love - 3

genres: married life au, family au, fluff, a little... angst? but we know it ends up okay (best friends to lovers) relationship: husbands 95 line x reader (feat. baby doremi line) words: 2.0k warnings: none notes: joshua centric!! also they live somewhere where it gets cold sometimes. I know that Joshua's had a little less time in the a!l spotlight, so I hope this satisfies the shushus[?] out there! this is the first >1k bday fic I've written in a while idk what came over me lol

ah! love masterlist

Joshua saves the day...wait, the night?

Joshua loves his kids. More than anything, though that thought sometimes scares him if he thinks too hard about it. The point is, he loves his sticky little mischievous imps, no matter how many times they throw up in the middle of the night, or run around with food half-chewed in their mouths because they've yet to develop a fear of choking like he and the rest of his partners have, or the half a million other things they don't warn you about parenthood. He loves his sons, end of sentence. Period.

But that's not to say they were his idea. Like a lot of the current life he feels overwhelmingly lucky to live, none of this was his idea. He hadn't even dreamed of it -- even his sleeping consciousness couldn't have been so creative as to spin the love story that led to his present. He hadn't fathomed marrying you and his other two best friends.

The marriage was Seungcheol's idea. But apparently you and Jeonghan were already thinking about it, too.

Joshua had been entirely caught off guard.

He was thinking too rigidly, he realized. Their marriage isn't legally recognized in any sense, and it was for that reason that he'd never even considered it in the first place... but it's still his marriage, whether penned and signed or not. There are three rings on his finger to prove it.

The kids were Jeonghan's idea. Well. The kid was sort of his, Seungcheol's and your idea. Jeonghan had said he'd always dreamed of having two kids -- a boy and a girl, like him and his little sister. You'd had your own fears about children, as did Seungcheol. You were scared you wouldn't know how to parent, wouldn't be able to raise a child in the way they deserved. Seungcheol worried how a child raised in their unconventional family would be treated by their peers. They'd all chosen the life they would live together, society's judging eyes be damned, but the child wouldn't have a choice, least of all an informed one.

Over the breakfast that was long forgotten after Jeonghan made his casual suggestion and vulnerable confession, you and Seungcheol eventually needled him down to one kid. Maybe.

As for Joshua, he didn't say a word. He was too lost in his own head, imagining a swaddled baby in your arms, and you in his. A shimmering mirage of his lips pressed upon your forehead, before he bent slightly to kiss the baby's tiny hands.

One kid may have been Jeonghan's, Seungcheol's, and your idea, but with Joshua, and circumstances as they were, you came home with three.

So perhaps some of this was his idea.

Not this, though.

"Papa...?"

Joshua blinks himself awake. His room is mostly dark, but warm light filters in from the hallway. The culprit? A little boy with one hand on the doorknob and the other wiping the corner of his bleary eye. Joshua can't tell who it is by looks alone, since the boy is all but a silhouette in the doorway, but he knows from the sound of his voice that it's Vernon.

Slowly, he removes his arm from around your waist. It's unlucky, maybe, that tonight you chose to sleep in Joshua's room, and then Vernon decided this was the place to be, too. He scoots away from you, then tries to lightly step across the room to kneel in front of Vernon. "Hey, bud," he whispers, trying desperately not to wake you up after a long day. "Can't sleep?"

"Bad dream," Vernon mutters.

⭒-⭒-⭒

"Bad dream?" Joshua sat up from the couch he was sleeping on just a minute ago, and he watched you whip around like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

But you only had a glass of water in your hand, and you winced as you turned off the tap. "Sorry. I was trying not to wake you."

"You didn't." Not really, anyway. The couch wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep on in the first place, which was why he offered you his room to sleep in while you needed a place to stay for the night. Actually, both Jeonghan and Seungcheol had offered their beds too, and it became a bit of a squabble, but you'd settled things by just picking the room offered to you first.

"Liar," you said, and even though the only light in the room came from the moon through the balcony windows, he could hear the smile the word came through. Still, there was a certain tiredness in your voice.

"Seriously. What's wrong?"

A sigh left you.

"Come, sit," he insisted. "Talk to me. You know I'll annoy it out of you eventually."

Another sigh came from you, but this one of reluctant, amused acceptance. You walked across the combined kitchen slash living space in in their three-room apartment, set your water on the coffee table, and sat on the other end of the couch from him. Too far for his liking.

"What's your mood like tonight?" you asked him as you relaxed into the cushions, your head resting so that you stared at the ceiling.

"On what scale?"

"Hm... holiday rom coms?"

He thought hard for a second. "The Princess Switch 2: Switched Again."

You snorted, rubbing your hands over your face. "Not good then?"

"Well, you did have to abandon your apartment because the heat turned off and your dumb landlord is completely MIA." He shifted his body to face you, one arm propped up on the back of the couch to lean his head on. "But you showed up here wearing a comedic amount of layers, so the day had its funny moments."

A laugh bubbled from your throat, and Joshua found himself smiling in the dark. "I guess you're right. How's your mood in terms of..." You let your head flop to the side to look at him. "...a hug?"

He had to wonder sometimes if you had absolutely no idea what he would do for you if you asked. A hug wouldn't be on that list-- it was so easy that it didn't even constitute consideration.

But his heart warmed, because even though he knew he'd never refuse to give you something so simple as a hug, you knew he wasn't constantly the physical affection kind of guy. You wanted to ask him. You wanted his comfort, but only if he was willing.

God, was he willing.

"All yours." He opened up his arms, and you all but sank into him.

You both stayed like that for a while, silent, but warm. He was satisfied with you in his arms, but he could tell your mind was still stewing.

"You gonna tell me what's got you up so late?" he muttered, rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your sides.

"Do you ever think about the future, Joshua?"

Sometimes. But it was always with you in it. "Not really."

Leaning back, he brought you to lie almost on top of him, so now he was the one staring at the ceiling.

You sighed. "I try not to... at least not too much. But sometimes, on nights like these, I'm scared that I..."

He waited for you to continue, but when you didn't, he gently patted your back. "That you what?"

"That I want too much."

Joshua breathed in. Held that air for a few more seconds than necessary. Breathed out. He wondered if it would always be like this-- you being brave enough to speak aloud the fears he kept locked up.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, because what else could he say?

Me too?

No. He couldn't know if you meant it in the same way he felt, and it would be selfish to let his words and feelings out now, while his two other best friends were asleep mere meters away.

You chuckled, as if to dispel any vulnerability you'd revealed. "Easy for you to say."

You had no idea.

"I'll protect you."

"Ah, right. Did you read my mind? We'll have to sleep out here tonight."

Not yet catching up to your joke, Joshua loosened his arms around you and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

You lifted your head, a cheeky, bitable smile on your lips. Your voice lowered to a conspiratorial hush. "There's a monster under your bed."

⭒-⭒-⭒

Joshua ends up in the kitchen downstairs, all three boys sitting on the counter since Papa Seungcheol isn't there to discourage it. He tried to help Vernon right back into bed, he swears, but as soon as Seungkwan roused from his sleep and asked Vernon what was wrong, a conspiracy of monsters under each of their beds spiralled out of control. Even Chan got dragged in, heavy sleeper that he is.

Now, Joshua's showing them his ultra-secret monster repellent recipe. He melts an ice cube on a warm pan like a slab of butter, then pours warm water over it. Hiding more ice in his hands, he pretends to pull it from the pantry and adds that to the "mixture" too.

The boys watch, entranced and more than a little tired, as Joshua carefully pours the pan's contents into a measuring cup filled with yet more ice. He then pours that into a spray bottle they use to water the plants and screws the lid on. "There," he says proudly, presenting the bottle in front of the boys like it's a fine wine.

"What's going on down here?" your soft voice comes from the bottom of the stairway.

Joshua winces. "I was hoping I wouldn't wake you."

"It's alright," you say, though he can tell you're still fatigued. You walk over to the kitchen and pet the first boy's head that you reach, Chan's. "What are you all doing up?"

While Vernon makes grabby hands for you to run your fingers through his hair as well, Seungkwan answers. "Papa Shua's making monster-go-away juice."

"Monster-go-away juice?" you echo, then turn to Joshua with feigned shock and a quiet gasp. "Not your secret recipe?"

Joshua smiles. You're always so quick to match his humour. "I know." He throws the boys a look before meeting your eyes with full, teasing seriousness. "But I think they're ready."

Your eyes glimmer with laughter, but you hold yourself back for the sake of the bit. Turning to your sons, you wag your finger. "This is powerful stuff, boys. You have to use it carefully."

Chan's eyes are wide, sparkling with awe as he takes in your every word. Seungkwan and Vernon are equally rapt. Joshua's going to have to explain all this to the more straightforward husbands tomorrow, but tonight? Seeing the adorable looks on his sons faces and the playful tilt of yours is totally worth it.

"But don't worry," he chimes in. "It only works on monsters. It's harmless to humans. See?"

In a flash, he points the bottle at you and pulls the trigger, spraying a thin mist of water-water right in your face. You flinch in surprise, affronted, but only Joshua can tell. You laugh, then look at the boys again. "See? Nothing." You snatch the spray bottle from him. "It doesn't do anything to papa Joshua, either."

Okay, he thinks as you spray him not once, but three times, he deserves that.

"Now, papa Joshua and I are going to take care of any monsters, and then we're all gonna go to sleep, okay?"

The boys nod, and Vernon yawns, then motions for you to pick him up. You send a look Joshua's way, and he sends one right back. He gathers both Seungkwan and Chan in his arms, but before you start the trek up the stairs, he stops you. Each of the sons in his arms get a kiss to the top of their head, and then he leans over and presses one to your temple. Lastly, he bends down and, while Vernon has raised his arm to once again rub his eyes, Joshua kisses his tiny little hand. Just like he imagined over breakfast not so long ago.

No, waking up in the middle of the night to save his sons from imaginary monsters was never his idea. Neither was this life, or this family.

But Joshua wouldn't have it any other way.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, secret relationship, part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note | @steddielovemonth prompt love is staying in bed for five extra minutes because you can't tear yourself away from them just yet by @starryeyedjanai | art by Kei | story in the same verse by Lex | AO3)

Steve came to slowly, like swimming through molasses, his mind caught somewhere between dreaming and being awake. In his dream, he had been lying in the sun, his head cushioned in Eddie's lap, Eddie's fingers running through his hair, humming a soft melody Steve had never heard before.

Slowly, the melody changes to the sound of soft snoring, and the soft thing under his head isn't Eddie's lap, it's his chest, gently rising and falling with each snore. Steve presses his smile into the warm skin beneath him at the thought of Eddie's face when he tells him he snores.

Some things are worth waiting for, though, and he knows the perfect moment to reveal this particular piece of information will come.

He has no idea what time it is. Judging by the morning light filtering into the room, it's just after sunrise, the sun's rays piercing through the blinds and casting a warm, golden glow that gradually fills Steve's hotel room.

Moving as carefully as he can, he cranes his neck to check the aged alarm clock on the bedside table. It tells him that he was right, it's 7:58 a.m., and the sun has risen just minutes before him. The light filtering in is soft and diffused, making the colors seem muted yet rich, with shades of pale orange, pink, and yellow dancing across the surfaces. Long shadows stretch out elegantly, accentuating the contours of furniture and objects in the room.

It's Steve's favorite time of day. There's a sense of quiet serenity in this early morning moment as the world slowly awakens. It offers a brief respite before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.

These days, early mornings hold an even more special place in his heart because it's the only time of day he can just look at Eddie.

Sometimes Steve thinks Eddie is like a hummingbird, always moving until all his energy is used up and he falls into a deep slumber that almost looks like he's dead to the world. It allows Steve to soak him up undisturbed and unabashed. His fingers carefully exploring the hills and valleys of hard muscle and soft flesh, he can drink in the swirling ink on Eddie's pale skin.

It's such a stark contrast from the rest of the day.

Eddie often seems driven. By the perceived expectations of others, by his own fears of falling short. By his own demons, which Steve has only glimpsed. But as the darkness of the night gives way to a new day, Eddie looks at ease.

It's probably too soon to think, but Steve hopes it's because he's now sharing Eddie's bed. That Eddie feels safe with him, safe enough to let go of all the things that plague his beautiful but sometimes overwhelmingly loud mind.

That's why it pains Steve to be the one to wake Eddie from his peaceful slumber and bring him back to reality. But they have a sound check at 9:15 because the venue has had some problems lately and they need to make sure everything goes off without a hitch tonight. This whole tour means too much to them, to Eddie, for it not to be perfect.

Pressing a gentle kiss just above where Steve can feel the steady beating of Eddie's heart, he softly calls Eddie's name. Not surprisingly, nothing happens, so another kiss follows the first, this time on Eddie's collarbone.

"Eddie, c'mon," he tries again, this time closer to Eddie's ear, eliciting a soft murmur. "We have to get up, the soundcheck -"

"Mm, they can check the sound without us," his - Eddie's - voice comes in a slightly drawn out tone. "Don't wanna get up."

Eddie, obviously not fully awake yet, wraps his arms around Steve and buries his face in Steve's hair.

"I know, ba-" Steve stumbles over the pet names that want to come out more and more now that they're so much closer than when he first started touring with Corroded Coffin. "I know. But we can grab a big coffee with enough sugar in it to put an elephant into a sugar coma, and when the check is done, we can come back to the hotel and sneak into your room and I can make it worth your while."

Steve's tone is low, almost a purr, as he says this. The others don't know about them yet, although Steve thinks that at least Robin and Chrissy have their suspicions. And Jeff has been watching them more closely as well. He's sure that they'll tell them soon, but first they want to enjoy getting to know each other this way, without their friends getting involved.

"Five more minutes and I will make it worth your while. Whaddya say, big boy?"

Before Steve can answer, most likely telling Eddie no, we're going to be late and how are you going to explain that to the others, Eddie rolls them both over until Steve lands on his back with a soft umph. Above him, Eddie is smiling down at him, suddenly much more awake than seconds before.

"Hi," he says, nudging Steve's nose with his own.

Steve doesn't even try to fight the dopey smile, even as he rolls his eyes at Eddie trying to get what he wants by playing dirty. It's so Eddie, just like the wolfish grin on his face.

"I'll make this the best five minutes of your life, Harrington. Scout's honor."

Steve snorts. "Scout's honor? I doubt you ever talked to a scout in your life."

"Oh yeah. In fact, I'm sleeping with one. And I'm about to kiss one before I rock his world."

"See, that's where you're wrong."

"Is that so?"

This makes Steve laugh out loud. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," Eddie replies, then hesitates as his choice of words seems to register with him.

Before the moment between them ends in awkwardness, Steve leans in to kiss Eddie on the nose. "How did you know I was a Boy Scout?"

Steve's distraction works, and the worry in Eddie's eyes is replaced by mischief. "Just a guess, but good to know."

"Ass."

"I have it on good authority that you like my ass," Eddie teases, and Steve has to agree. He really does. As much as he likes everything else about Eddie. How much is becoming a problem.

Instead of saying any of these things, Steve looks over at the alarm clock, which now reads 08:04. He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. "I think your five minutes are up, and I have to say, not the world-rocking I was expecting, Munson."

"Oh you..." Eddie growls before swooping in to capture Steve's lips in a deep kiss. It turns into another, and another, the dim light in the room growing brighter around them as they become lost in each other.

Eddie makes it to sound check just in time, while Steve is ten minutes late, carrying five cups of coffee. He hopes no one notices the bright grin Eddie flashes with the first sip of his overtly sweet coffee, or the wink he gives Steve.

A promise is a promise, and Steve intends to keep them all when it comes to Eddie.

[alottiegoingon]

HIDDEN

natalie scatorccio x gn!reader

summary: you and nat study together.

warnings: reader and nat have a crush on each other, indirect flirting, nat lives in a trailer, not proofread.

the evening sun filtered through the thin curtains of the small, run-down trailer, casting a warm glow over the cluttered interior. books and notes were scattered across the worn-out coffee table, where natalie sat cross-legged, her fingers idly flipping through the pages of her history textbook.

you sat opposite her, your own textbooks spread out in front of you. the air was thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you two for months. friends, yes, but always teetering on the edge of something more. it was in the way her eyes lingered on you a moment too long, in the playful banter that always seemed to have an underlying meaning.

"you know," you said, breaking the comfortable silence, "if you spent half as much time studying as you do with that eyeliner, you'd probably ace this test."

natalie smirked, her dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. "yeah, but then i wouldn't have time to show off my impressive ability to make straight a's and perfect wings," she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm.

you laughed, shaking your head. "fair point. but really, nat, you need to focus. mr. benson is gonna grill us on the civil war tomorrow."

she groaned, dropping her head back dramatically. "i know, i know. it's just...so boring. why can't history have more explosions or something?"

"pretty sure there were plenty of explosions during the civil war," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "you just have to know where to look."

natalie rolled her eyes but leaned forward, her elbow resting on the table as she glanced at your notes. "alright, impress me with your historical knowledge then."

you launched into a brief explanation of the major battles, trying to make it as engaging as possible. every so often, you'd catch her eye, and there it was – that spark, that hint of something more. you couldn't help but wonder if she felt it too.

as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm of your conversation. you teased each other mercilessly, yet there was an underlying tenderness in every jibe. it was in the way she nudged your foot with hers under the table, the way her laughter lit up her face and made your heart skip a beat.

at one point, you leaned over to grab a highlighter, your hand brushing against hers. a jolt of electricity shot through you, and you saw her eyes widen ever so slightly. neither of you moved, the contact lingering just a second too long before you pulled away, your cheeks flushed.

"see," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "you're actually pretty smart when you try."

natalie snorted, but there was a softness in her gaze. "don't get used to it. i'm only doing this because you begged me."

"begged? i seem to recall you saying you needed help, and i graciously offered my services," you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips.

she chuckled, shaking her head. "whatever helps you sleep at night."

the playful banter continued like a dance, the two of you circling around the truth but never quite touching it. you wanted to say something, to break the barrier and let her know how you felt, but the fear of ruining what you had held you back.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, the trailer was bathed in a soft, golden light. you closed your textbook, stretching your arms over your head. "i think that's enough for today. we should probably get some rest if we're gonna survive the class tomorrow."

natalie nodded, closing her own book with a sigh of relief. "yeah, you're right. thanks for... helping me out."

there was a moment of silence. you could see the conflict in her eyes, the same battle you were fighting within yourself. finally, she stood up.

"guess i'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

you nodded, standing up as well. "yeah, see you tomorrow, nat."

as she walked you towards the door, you felt a pang of regret. you didn't want to leave things unsaid, but the words were lodged in your throat. just as she reached for the handle, already opening it for you, you blurted out, "hey, nat?"

she turned around, her eyes searching yours. "yeah?"

you took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. "i...i just wanted to say...you're not as useless as you think you are. you're actually pretty amazing."

a flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed by a soft smile that she quickly hid. "don't get all soft on me," she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly was the last thing you saw before leaving the trailer.

[bimobuddy]

Storms

Hazbin TK fic

Writing this because there's currently a storm going on that's not supposed to end until 7 pm, and I'm not doing well :)

Lee!Alastor, Ler!Lucifer

Alastor might be ooc

CW: Fear of storms?? Anxiety

Summary: Hell gets a really bad storm, and Alastor isn't as composed as he normally is. When Lucifer finds out the reason why, he decides to put their rivalry aside and help him out.

BOOM

Alastor gripped his cane tightly in his hands, his permanent grin slightly more strained than usual. Wordlessly, he stood up from his seat and made an excuse to Charlie about needing to finish up some scripting for his next broadcast.

He turned and left the lobby, his shoes clicking as he walked down the hall.

CRAAACK!!

His breath caught in his throat as he picked up the pace a little, his ears starting to fold back.

"Heeey, Bambi!" Lucifer called, appearing in front of him. Oblivious to the Radio Demon's distress, he grinned, ready to harass him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Alastor gripped his cane so hard he thought he was about to snap it. "Not that it's any of your business, your highness, but I'm heading back to my room." He replied, trying to mask his fear behind his usual smile and sass.

As thunder sounded again, softer this time, more of a rolling sound, Lucifer picked up on Alastor's anxious demeanor. His tail flicked, and his ears were pinned back a little.

The king chuckled, "Oh come on, don't tell me you of all demons are scared of a little-"

BOOOM!!

Lucifer blinked and looked around. Had Alastor disappeared? The light sound of microphone feedback caught his attention, and he turned to see that Alastor hadn't disappeared into shadow, but instead dropped to the floor and hidden under a table in the hall.

Alastor's ears were fully pinned back as he shook and pressed himself back against the wall.

Sensing this was something deeper, Lucifer kneeled down to be eye level with him. "Hey," he started, speaking softly, the same way he had to Charlie when she was a child and scared of the dark, "You're okay, Al. This hotel was built with angelic power, the storm isn't going to break in."

Alastor, eyes wide still, looked up at the king. When Lucifer took a chance and reached a hand out, he was surprised when Alastor took it.

"When I was a child," the demon started, his voice losing its radio filter, "a really bad tornado hit Louisiana. It devastated our town and nearly destroyed my home. I was in the cellar with my mother for hours until we were found."

Lucifer's eyes widened a little bit, as he felt his heart break for the demon. He gave Alastor's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You know, Charlie used to be afraid of storms too-"

Alastor forced a short laugh. "Wonderful, I'm behaving like a child." He pulled his hand away, and climbed out from under the table, feeling embarrassed for having acted like that in front of his rival. As another boom of thunder sounded, Alastor froze and gripped the table so hard, the wood started to crack and splinter.

Lucifer summoned his wings and wrapped one side around Alastor. "Let me walk you to your room-" Alastor shook his head. "My room is modeled to look like the swamps of Louisiana, I can't-... I can't stay in there during a storm."

"Alright then... My room, come on." He turned and started to guide Alastor in the opposite direction. He folded his wings in and de-summoned them, as to let Alastor retain his dignity when they passed by the lobby again.

As he was being guided, Alastor didn't once argue or complain, much to the surprise of Lucifer. He actually stayed rather close to the king, ears down, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

When they reached Lucifer's room, there was a flash of lightning, causing Alastor to rush in quickly. Seeing Alastor break character so much was very odd and concerning to the king. For as long as he had known the demon, Alastor had the attitude of someone who was untouchable. And now here he was, shaking, and bleating like a scared fawn.

He sighed, feeling bad for him. He remembered when Charlie would come running into his room scared, during a storm. Back then, he would have scooped her up into his lap, and they would have counted the seconds between the flashes of lightning and the cracking of thunder. And when that didn't work, he'd- Oh there's an idea.

"Alastor?" He started, taking his hat off and setting aside. "You wanna know what I used to do with Charlie when she was scared of storms?" He asked with a smile.

The Radio Demon turned to face him. He was still holding onto that smile, but his eyes showed just how distressed he was. He tilted his head.

Lucifer waved him over, sitting down. "I'll show you, sit down." Alastor approached and sat next to him, willing to try anything at this point to calm his nerves. He set his cane aside and let out a surprised fawn squeak when the king just opened his coat. He was obviously wearing a shirt underneath, but he hadn't expected for Lucifer to touch him.

"It was a little game we'd play. You ready?" Before Alastor could question it, he saw another flash of lighting that made him jump. That was Lucifer's cue to start.

He reached forward and started to scritch his claws against Alastor's sides, up and down. The demon let out a startled yelp, and at first Lucifer thought maybe this was a bad idea. But when the host started to chuckle and lean into it, he smiled and continued.

As thunder rolled and boomed overhead, Lucifer slid his hands upward and spidered over his ribs. Alastor doubled over, laughing harder, yet he barely even noticed the loud noise, only able to focus on the tickling.

Playful claws zipped down and vibrated into his hips, and the radio host couldn't help but curl up and fall onto his side, tail wagging. He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed louder, his own hands shooting down to grab Lucifer's, yet he didn't push him away, seeming to be more than okay with this distraction.

The king gave his hips a break and reached up to gently scritch behind his ears. He couldn't stop the fond smile that painted itself across his face once Alastor's loud laughter melted away into staticky giggles.

Lucifer summoned his wings back and again, and wrapped them around Alastor, pressing them against his back. Alastor normally hated touch, but he welcomed this. It was warm, and the gentle, constant pressure against his back was helping with his anxiety, a lot actually.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucifer plucking one of his own feathers. His cheeks warmed and his ears folded back, but he didn't attempt to escape. He just squeezed his eyes shut again, and allowed the angel to flutter it under his chin.

Alastor burst into surprised giggles, shocked at just how ticklish it was. It definitely didn't feel like a normal feather, it was worse.

Lucifer chuckled, "Yeah, angels feathers, they're much more intense than birds." He saw the window flash, and brought the feather down to Alastor's tummy, pushing his shirt up. Right when the thunder started, he started to flick and flutter the feather against his skin, grinning to himself when Alastor jumped and curled up, laughing, gently batting at the king.

Yet he didn't even notice the storm outside.

[brookghaib-blog]

Whispers of the past pt.6

Pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x reader

tw: alcoholism, suggestive themes, depression

Summary: 10 years ago, Y/N went missing after being attacked by a kaiju, now working by Gen Narumi's side as his secret weapon, she hides herself in hopes that one day she reconnects with her first love, Hoshina Soshiro.

pt.5 - pt.7

--

-- flashback --

The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the curtains of our small bedroom, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Soshiro and I lay side by side on the bed, our fingers intertwined as we stared up at the ceiling, lost in the comfort of each other’s presence. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us in our little sanctuary.

“Do you ever think about the future, Soshiro?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had been on my mind for a while, one that I had been too afraid to ask until now.

Soshiro turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes softening. “All the time,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think about it a lot.”

I turned on my side to face him, propping my head up with my hand. “What do you see?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling. “I see myself in the Defense Force,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “I want to protect people, to fight against the kaiju. It’s something I’ve always felt called to do.”

I nodded, understanding his passion. Soshiro had always been brave, always the one to stand up for others. “I know you’ll be amazing,” I said softly. “You have the strength and the heart for it.”

“And what about you, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine again. “What do you see?”

I hesitated, my thoughts swirling. “I want to study astrophysics,” I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. “I want to become a scientist, to explore the stars and unlock the mysteries of the universe. I wouldn't be able to be in the Defence Force… I’m scared.”

Soshiro’s brow furrowed. “Scared of what?”

“I'm not strong enough,” I confessed. “I see the kaiju, and I feel so helpless. I’m afraid I’m too weak to fight them, to make a difference.”

He reached out, gently cupping my cheek. “You’re not weak, Y/N. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And you don’t have to fight kaiju to make a difference. Your mind, your curiosity—those are your strengths. You can make a difference in your own way.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart swelling with love for him. “Thank you, Soshiro,” I whispered. “You always know what to say.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing softly against my skin. “It’s the truth. You have a brilliant mind, Y/N. The world needs people like you to push the boundaries of knowledge and explore new frontiers. Just because you’re not on the front lines doesn’t mean you’re not fighting your own battles and making a difference.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, easing my fears. “I guess I just need to believe in myself more, I'll be a great cientist, can you imagine our kids, a fighter as a father and a cientist as a mother” I said, my voice steadier now.

“Well that means you could never leave my side.” he said, his gaze steady and reassuring. “No matter where life takes us, we’ll support each other.”

I nestled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he replied, kissing the top of my head.

We lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the future feeling both distant and close. I could see the determination in Soshiro’s eyes, the fire that burned within him. And in that moment, I knew that no matter where our paths took us, we would always support each other.

Later that evening, I found myself in the kitchen, talking to my mother as she prepared dinner. The comforting aroma of her cooking filled the room, and I felt a sense of warmth and belonging.

My brother was on the ground, just making some drawings that will never make their way into our fridge, my mother was to rigid with her aesthetic to allowed that stick man up.

“You and Soshiro seem closer than ever,” my mother remarked, glancing at me with a knowing smile as she stirred a pot on the stove.

I blushed, nodding. “We are,” I admitted. “I love him so much, Mom. I can’t imagine my life without him.”

She set down the knife she was using to chop vegetables and turned to face me fully. “Do you ever think about your future together?” she asked gently, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“All the time,” I replied, my voice filled with emotion. “I dream of marrying him, of building a life together. I know he wants to join the Defense Force, and I want to support him in that. Most of all, I just want us to be happy, to be together.”

My mother smiled, her eyes softening. “That’s a beautiful dream, Y/N. And I believe in you. You’re stronger than you think, and I know you and Soshiro will find a way to make your dreams come true.”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by the love and support from my mother. “Thank you, Mom,” I whispered, hugging her tightly. “I hope you’re right.”

As I stood there, embraced by my mother’s warmth, I felt a renewed sense of determination. Soshiro and I had our dreams, our fears, and our uncertainties. But we also had each other, and that was a foundation strong enough to build any future.

Back in the bedroom, I found Soshiro still lying on the bed, lost in his own thoughts. I climbed back in beside him, resting my head on his chest. “I was talking to my mom,” I said softly. “About us.”

He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close. “What did she say?”

“She just wants us to be happy” I replied. “That we’re stronger than we think, and that we’ll find a way to make our dreams come true.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “She’s right, you know. We will. Together.”

I closed my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull me into a sense of peace. With Soshiro by my side, I felt ready to face whatever the future held. Our dreams, our love, and our determination would guide us through any challenges that came our way.

The evening stretched into night, the room gradually darkening as the sun set. We stayed wrapped in each other's arms, our whispered conversations filling the space between us. We talked about our fears, our hopes, and our dreams. We made plans and shared secrets, each word strengthening the bond we shared.

“I can’t wait to see the stars,” I said dreamily, my eyes half-closed as I imagined the endless expanse of the universe. “To study them up close, to understand the mysteries they hold.”

Soshiro’s fingers gently traced patterns on my arm. “And I can’t wait to see you achieve that dream,” he said. “You’re going to do amazing things, Y/N. I know it.”

I turned to look at him, my heart swelling with love. “And you’re going to be an incredible soldier, Soshiro. The Defense Force is lucky to have someone like you.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with affection. “We’ll both make our mark on the world, in our own ways. And we’ll always have each other, no matter what.”

I kissed him then, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and futures yet to come. As our lips parted, I rested my forehead against his, feeling a profound sense of contentment.

“I love you, Soshiro,” I whispered, my voice filled with all the emotion I felt.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied, his words a gentle caress.

We fell asleep that night holding each other, our dreams intertwined. The future was uncertain, but with Soshiro by my side, I felt ready to face whatever came our way. Our love was a beacon, guiding us through the darkness, giving us the strength to pursue our dreams and build a life together.

--

present time, Y/N's pov:

This silly thoughts... So many dreams just for me to join this life and lost him.

As days goes by I found myself in a deeper void, since I saw him happy without me I could never figure it out why I can't just live on with my life and enjoy it. Well maybe became I turned into an abomination, forced to live a completely different life that I've always wanted, with the man I always wanted. That'll do it.

I was doing fine a few days ago when reality gave a slap in the face, but day by day I became certain of what was taken from me. But even staying home doing nothing was a luxury nowadays, since i'm not an official soldier, my only income is the bar.

My only determination was to be strong enough to reach his side and be with him forever, an happy ending to a tragic story. That was down the drain. That place was now occupied, and I tend to forget that i'm no longer just a human.

Life was losing colour and I was losing my mind.

I guess that's how you ended up here Chisuka. I though as I was looking to the table full of drinks in the backrooms.

Since my performance where I saw him in the crowd, I asked Mr. Orochi for an occasional spot as a dancer, even if he doesn't see me, I can see him and I can show myself. How did I end up being this desperate, he never came after that, I never saw him again, which made it somehoe worse, he never came because he as someone, that's my reminder.

I poured another drink, the amber liquid splashing over the rim of the glass and pooling on the scratched wooden table. I downed it in one gulp, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat. The alcohol was supposed to numb the pain, but it only seemed to amplify it, bringing my heartbreak into sharper focus. I could still see Hoshina's face in my mind, his smile, his eyes—everything about him that had captivated me from the start.

The door to the backroom creaked open, but I barely registered the sound. I was lost in my own world, drowning in a sea of regret and longing. It wasn't until I felt a hand on my shoulder that I snapped out of my stupor.

"Chisuka," a familiar voice said gently.

I turned to see Narumi standing beside me, his expression filled with concern. "Narumi," I slurred, blinking to clear my vision. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw your performance," he replied, pulling up a chair and sitting across from me. "You were amazing, as always. But you seemed… off. What's going on?"

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and devoid of joy. "What's going on? I've lost him, Narumi. Soshiro chose Mina over me. How do you think I'm doing?"

Narumi's brows furrowed with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Chisuka. I may not understand the situaton but this is not the way to cure whatever you're feeling look at yourself."

I shrugged, my shoulders slumping. "Why would you? It's not like I've made a big deal about it. But it's killing me inside."

Narumi reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you."

I looked at him, my eyes glassy with tears. For a moment, I saw not Narumi, but Soshiro. The lines between reality and my imagination blurred, and the face I longed to see appeared before me.

"Soshiro?" I whispered, my heart aching with hope and desperation.

Narumi frowned, confused. "Chisuka, it's me, Narumi."

But I didn't hear him. In my mind, it was Soshiro sitting across from me, his hand holding mine. I leaned in, my breath hitching as I moved closer to his face.

"Soshiro, I've missed you so much," I murmured, my voice breaking.

"Chisuka, wait—" Narumi started, but I silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Shh, just let me have this moment," I pleaded, my eyes begging for understanding.

Before Narumi could react, I closed the distance between us, my lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. For a heartbeat, he was too stunned to move, caught off guard by the intensity of my emotions. His scent, a mix of leather and something uniquely him, enveloped me, and I clung to the illusion that it was Soshiro.

I deepened the kiss, pouring all my pain and longing into it. In my mind, I was finally with Soshiro, the man I had loved for so long. I clung to the illusion, desperate for the comfort it brought. The feel of his lips, the warmth of his touch—it was all I had been yearning for.

Narumi didn't pull away. Instead, he hesitated only for a moment before returning the kiss, perhaps sensing that I needed this—needed to feel wanted, needed to feel loved, even if it was just an illusion. His hands gently cupped my face, and I melted into him, my tears mingling with our kiss.

In that moment, I let go of everything. I allowed myself to believe that Soshiro was with me, holding me, kissing me. The pain and the heartache faded into the background, replaced by a desperate, aching need. I wrapped my arms around Narumi's neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

His response was tender, careful. He matched my fervor, his lips moving against mine with a softness that spoke of understanding and compassion. He held me tightly, his hands tracing soothing patterns on my back as if trying to ease the turmoil within me.

Time seemed to stand still as we kissed, lost in a world where my pain was momentarily forgotten. In that backroom, under the dim light and away from prying eyes, I allowed myself to fall into the illusion completely. I needed this connection, this semblance of love, even if it was fleeting and born out of my desperation.

“Soshiro,” I whispered, my voice trembling. The lines between reality and my imagination were still blurred, and I clung to the comforting illusion. “Do you… do you think I’m beautiful?”

Narumi’s expression softened, concern etched into his features. “Chisuka, it’s me, Narumi.”

I shook my head, my grip on his shirt tightening. “ Am I beautiful to you?” I felt a surge of insecurity, the doubts that had plagued me for so long bubbling to the surface. “Do you think I have a great body?”

Narumi hesitated, his brows furrowing with worry. “Chisuka, you’re beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful, inside and out.”

My breath hitched at his words, a mix of relief and confusion washing over me. I could see his lips moving, hear his voice, but in my mind, it was still Soshiro speaking to me, his warm eyes gazing into mine.

“But why didn’t you choose me?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why did you choose Mina over me?”

Narumi’s eyes widened, and he gently cupped my face, forcing me to look at him. “Chisuka, listen to me. I’m Narumi, not Soshiro. You’re hurting, and I understand that, but you have to see me for who I am, you are more than enough. You’re amazing and talented and beautiful. Soshiro’s choice doesn’t define your worth.”

I heard his words, but they felt distant, like an echo in my mind. My insecurities clawed at me, the pain of rejection and loss too much to bear. I clung to the illusion, desperate for the comfort it brought, even if only for a moment.

“Please,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just tell me that I’m beautiful. That I’m enough.”

Narumi’s grip on my face tightened slightly, his eyes searching mine with a depth of understanding that took my breath away. “You are beautiful, Chisuka. You are more than enough. But you have to see that for yourself. Soshiro’s decision doesn’t change who you are.”

My tears flowed freely, my body trembling with the weight of my emotions. I wanted to believe him, to accept his words, but the pain was too raw, too fresh. I leaned in again, pressing my lips to his, needing the physical connection to ground me, to make me feel something other than the ache in my heart.

Narumi responded with a gentleness that broke through my haze of desperation. His lips moved against mine, soft and tender, his hands cradling my face as if I were something precious.

As the emotional weight of the evening bore down on me, my body began to tremble, my strength waning. The room started to spin, the shadows merging into a blur of dark hues and soft light. Narumi's voice seemed to come from a distance, his concerned words fading into a muffled echo.

“Chisuka, are you okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with alarm as he noticed my unsteady sway.

I tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. My vision darkened at the edges, a heavy fog settling over my mind. I felt my legs give way, and the last thing I registered was Narumi’s arms wrapping around me, catching me before I hit the floor.

“Chisuka!” he called out, his voice urgent and filled with worry.

But I was already slipping into unconsciousness, the world around me fading into a comforting blackness. In those final moments, I allowed myself to surrender to the darkness, my body and mind seeking refuge from the overwhelming pain.

--

Narumi's pov:

The morning sun filtered through the windshield as I drove Chisuka home, her silhouette peaceful in the passenger seat, her exhaustion evident after a night of emotional turmoil. Her vulnerability had shaken me to the core—seeing her in such pain, desperate for comfort that I couldn't fully provide.

Navigating through the quiet streets, I couldn't shake off the weight of the night. Chisuka's emotional outpouring, her confusion, and her desperate attempt to find solace in me—all of it swirled in my mind like a tumultuous storm. She had been clinging to an illusion of Soshiro, lost in her grief and longing. And in my heart, I knew I couldn't compete with the shadow of the man she loved.

Pulling up to her apartment building, I gently shook Chisuka awake. She stirred, blinking sleepily, and for a moment, confusion clouded her eyes before recognition set in.

“Hey,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re here.”

Chisuka nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “Oh, right. Thank you for bringing me home, Narumi.”

I managed a small smile, though inside, my heart was heavy with conflicting emotions. “No problem. How are you feeling?”

Her expression darkened slightly, a hint of discomfort crossing her features. “I… I don’t really remember much from last night. Did something happen?”

I hesitated, unsure of how much to divulge. “You were upset, Chisuka. We talked… and then you passed out. I brought you here.”

She frowned, clearly troubled by the gaps in her memory. “I’m sorry, Narumi. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her gently, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You were going through a lot. Just rest now, okay?”

Chisuka nodded again, her troubled expression tugging at my heart. “Yeah, I… I think I need some time to sort things out.”

As she stepped out of the car and walked toward her building, I watched her with a sense of helplessness. The events of last night had made one thing painfully clear—I couldn’t be the one to heal Chisuka's heart. No matter how much I cared for her, no matter how deeply I wished to ease her pain, Soshiro Hoshina held a place in her heart that I couldn’t compete with.

The weight of the night’s revelations bore down on me. I had hoped that I could be the one to comfort Chisuka, to help her move on from her past. But as I replayed our shared moments in my mind—the desperation in her kiss, the vulnerability in her voice—I couldn’t ignore the reality staring me in the face.

Soshiro was a part of Chisuka’s story that I couldn’t erase. He had left an indelible mark on her heart, and I was just a bystander, unable to fill the void he had left behind. As much as it hurt, I had to accept that some battles were beyond my reach.

Arriving at my apartment, I leaned against the door heavily, closing my eyes as I processed everything that had transpired. The ache in my chest was raw, a mix of longing and resignation. Chisuka needed time to heal, to come to terms with her feelings for Soshiro.

And as much as it hurt, I knew I had to give her that time. I would be there for her as a friend, supporting her through her journey of self-discovery. But deep down, I knew that I had to confront my own emotions too—to acknowledge that my feelings for Chisuka couldn’t change the past or dictate her future.

As I sank onto the couch in my living room, I stared out of the window at the city below, the morning light casting long shadows across the streets. The world moved on, indifferent to the turmoil within my heart.

For now, I would wait. I would give Chisuka the space she needed, knowing that in time, wounds would heal and hearts would mend. And perhaps, just perhaps, we would both find our way to a brighter tomorrow.

--

Hoshina's pov:

Standing at the edge of the training grounds, I watched with a mixture of awe and heartache as Y/N practiced her martial arts routine. The familiarity of her movements stirred memories long buried—of laughter shared, moments of intimacy, and the unspoken bond we once had.

It's been a few days since I found her in the training campus of the First Division, ever since I try to come by, hoping to get a glimpse of her.

It had been years since Y/N disappeared from my life without a trace. Seeing her now, the years had added a maturity to her grace, but her essence remained unchanged—a beacon of strength and determination.

Determined to unravel the mystery, I began formulating a plan. Quiet inquiries among trusted contacts within the First Division would be my starting point. I needed to know more about her current life, her reasons for disappearing, and whether she still harbored feelings for the life we once shared.

But before delving into investigations, I needed to confirm that it was indeed Y/N. With cautious steps, I made my way toward the First Division base, my heart pounding with anticipation and trepidation.

The base buzzed with activity, officers and recruits focused on their duties. Among them, I caught a glimpse of Y/N—her stride purposeful, her presence commanding attention. She seemed different yet unmistakably herself, a combination that both intrigued and unsettled me.

Finding a secluded spot, I settled into a discreet vantage point, observing Y/N from afar. She interacted with colleagues, her demeanor professional yet distant. I wondered what had transpired in her life, what had prompted her to leave everything behind.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as I remained hidden, my thoughts consumed by memories of Y/N and the unresolved emotions between us. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the base as day turned to night.

Eventually, Y/N began to make her way towards the exit, her exhaustion evident despite her resilient facade. I hesitated, torn between the desire to confront her and the need to respect her privacy and space.

I waited, leaving some steps behind her, I began to follow her. No matter the time I would find out if she was indeed my Y/N.

Taglist: surprisemodafakas

[maxiwaxipads]

i wrote how everyone in noir bouquet would fight a while back so here you go !!!

Badobarm

Frontliner and tank, he's capable of taking incoming damage for teammates and taunts to distract! Able to give defensive buffs, and cover for allies if they require healing or need to prepare upcoming attacks. Capable of commanding teammates efficiently, he's the party member who keeps everyone's morale up! If Badobarm is there, it will be swift and victorious!

Badobarm naturally charms his opponents with good workplace practices and being a good boss.

Badobarm (Shoujo filter*) - " Work with me where you can even survive on minimum wage and budget efficiently ~ ♡ " (the enemy, who is suddenly under a charm status effect!)

Chaco

A mid-range support character who can bolster the speed and attack of allies! Chaco can debuff the defensiveness of SEEDs, but it isn't too significant of a debuff. Out of all Noir Bouquet, he's the most nimble and able to move freely through a battlefield.

His skateboard was once ordinary until Pochacco blessed the skateboard with his magic! It can easily move through difficult terrain and is even more sturdier than it was before. (<- Maybe climb walls, but I'll consider it) Chaco can also ram his enemies with his skateboard!

If there had to be a character with stealth capabilities, it would be Chaco who can silence his breathing and footsteps. Under a situation where a retreat is necessary, Chaco would be the quickest to flee with or without his trusted skateboard!

Arupek

"A close-ranged attacker at trying his best!" But in all seriousness, Arupek is a long-ranged attacker whose water gun is tampered with different nodes able to perform supportive (healing) and offensive abilities.

His gun is a special item able to convert water into a specialized magic of its own. Once water is inserted, it is unable to be deposited. After some time, the specialized water reverts back to its original state and loses its magical properties.

As long as Arupek carries water around, he's able to reuse the water gun for a long time! He makes sure to label the water he carries as "drinkable" or "ammo."

Arupek is capable of using dark-type pokemon attacks!

(So I had the idea that being contracted with a lord gives you special abilities, and Arupek inherited a venomous bite from Pekkle) (Doesn't easily share his food with others in fear of them being affected with venom) (When he's around Badobarm, Arupek makes sure to finish his food quirk even if he dislikes it or it isn't to his preferences)

Arupek, who sees Badobarm scooping the rice from his plate into one place--intending to eat it...!?

Arupek - "Oh--WAIT! WAIT! DON'T EAT IT!" "I'll finish it. I swear! You're a good man, Badobarm! I don't want you to die!" Badobarm - "...Be my guest?"

Badobarm, who thinks highly of Arupek because he can finish his food!

Tuxam

A magic DPS, but I couldn't decide between mid-ranged or long-ranged, but he seems mid-ranged to me? Has a more practical understanding of magic and can use it for mundane tasks. Resistant to cold statuses and weather!

When it comes to magic, I think Tuxam is the strongest or on par with Pikero? Slightly (physically) stronger than the average person, but when pitted against other knights, Tuxam doesn't appear that strong. I imagine this also applies to things like his stamina and how quick he can be.

Tuxam is a character who is motivated by helping others, even if it is a strict standard. May take incoming damage for allies even if it harms him. (<- Something that he's definitely scolded for(?))

Hangyon

A close-range or mid-range attack, Hangyon is both a DPS and a terrible support character! He's a wildcard able to quickly adapt to his situations, and able to use anything within his hands as a stratagem.

I imagine Hangyon is a high-damage DPS to the detriment of his allies. Someone capable of breaking the 4th wall, and whether Hangyon knows he's a character is left vague.

Hangyon who breaks the 4th wall to ask the audience what's the best move in this situation.

Hangyon - "Ehe~ ♡ I can't hear you anyway! I'll just attack them silly."

But I like the idea that his awareness is kept intentionally vague.

Pikero, who I wrote as an offsite strategist considers Hangyon as a bomb or considers him too unpredictable to follow orders. I imagine Badobarm can sway Hangyon to take battles more seriously(?)

Hangyon who can debuff both his allies and his enemies. (And maybe even buff(?))

Pikero

A strategist who prefers staying far away from the battle! In return, he observes the situation from afar from an objective angle and determines the best actions for a plausible win.

Compared to other knights, Pikero can use magic from long distances but requires the help of "drones" to carry the magic and cast it. Because he casts his magic from a long distance, it may take a while for it to cast and he would have to inform the rest of Noir Bouquet when making incoming attacks or casting supportive spells

Pikero is also capable of casting supportive magic, like healing or giving buffs. I imagine it is obvious to tell when Pikero can cast a spell, so an enemy would have to time their attacks to avoid drone strikes or prevent Noir Bouquet from receiving buffs! (Maybe a drone has a brief moment before casting the spell)

Mentioning the drones again, they're able to perform multiple tasks for Pikero and aren't solely for battle. When Pikero casts magic through the drones, they have to carry it all the way there and it requires multiple to transport and cast.

(To visualize, imagine a vague trail of drones going back and forth similar to a cable line to deliver the magic) (Pikero has separate drones tasked with observing and recording the battle from afar, and drones who act as the cable lines and cast the magic itself)

These drones can easily be destroyed, and a slight disruption can misdirect the spell itself. But once a drone is attacked, you would have to destroy the other drones before his information is quickly relayed to Pikero.

(Possibly can overheat(?)) (Maybe bad weather can affect the performance of the drones, I could see it(?)) (I feel like I powercrept Pikero...?) (May also take a while to set up, especially in long-distance places from Keroppi Kingdom) (Maybe they also take a while to assemble(?))

(Even without the cable line drones, Pikero can still provide good insight by just observing the situation) (I imagine the drones Pikero uses for battle are all-purpose(?))

While Pikero will rarely appear in battle, I think he's faster than Chaco when there's a dire need to retreat.

I wrote to myself once, "I think everyone can agree Pikero is the weakest in Noir Bouquet." I wrote that twice. I still agree with me thrice. (lovingly)

Noir Bouquet's Physical Strength:

Pikero < Tuxam < Arupek < Chaco < Badobarm < Hangyon

Noir Bouquet's Magical Strength:

Badobarm < Chaco < Hangyon < Arupek < Pikero < Tuxam

(Again, Pikero and Tuxam might be equal to each other(?))

Noir Bouquet's Physical Defense:

Pikero < Arupek < Tuxam < Hangyon < Chaco < Badobarm

Noir Bouquet's Magical Defense:

Pikero < Hangyon < Chaco < Arupek < Tuxam < Badobarm

NIGERUNDAYO!

Badobarm < Tuxam < Arupek < Hangyon < Chaco < Pikero

(Badobarm is intentionally slow to save time for everyone else and ensure everyone makes it out safely!)

edit: have you ever reread something you’ve written and realized I USED THE <> WRONGLY???? Sure, I haven’t actively used <> in years it terms of schoolwork, but LIKE???? you know the example that the alligator eats the thing that is smaller than the other? i thought about that… but maybe the alligator was eating the one with the most meat rather than the weakest prey… I have had a lot of grammar mistakes before but like????

[come-down-that-tree]

Prologue Previous

/!\ ALL ALARMS BLAZING, THIS CHAPTER WILL BE VIOLENT, BE AWARE OF THAT

Warnings in the tags to not spoil

Come Down That Tree! (An aftermare story)

Chapter 22: Does it really matter how many times we fall down if we can count on someone to help us up?

A horrible feeling was swirling inside him as Geno hurried to the village. What if something happened again? What if he hadn’t arrived in time last time?

What if he didn’t arrive this time ?

If something happened, it could be nothing, his mind supplied to him as a way to quench his anxiety.

It wasn’t as successful as he would have liked…

Because what if something did happen ?!!

The first houses came into view and he didn’t slow down one bit, cursing the fact he didn’t know the place enough to blip around easily. It would have cut down time. And he doubted he’d find Nightmare in the same small alley as last time.

Running through the dark was hard and he kept tripping over unidentified stuff, rubbish probably.

Geno hesitated for a second, weighing the pros and cons of summoning a blaster to act as a light. Slightly overkill but, again, what if something happened ?

A hand touched his shoulder on his blind side and he twirled violently, ready to stab whoever it was with a sharp tipped fast-summoned bone in his hand.

Yellow.

Dream.

"Sorry for the scare, follow me, I know around."

No jump, no startled shout, the guardian stayed unmoved and started walking, quickly fading back into the night.

Geno lowered his weapon and took a step forward, vaguely guessing the direction the other must have gone.

He must have guessed wrong because Dream soon reappeared on his left with a furrowed expression.

"I apologize, I forgot you probably can’t see much right now. We’re in the market street, almost only shops and public spaces. That’s why it’s so dark, everything is closed at this hour. No street lights on either on market days..."

The guardian finished his little ramble by putting two fingers in his mouth, as if to whistle, he blew hard, eyes-closed, without making a sound and soon some light started to filter through his clothes and between his bones. Opening his eyes revealed two fiery pits in the guise of eye lights. A warm colored storm with discreet accents of purplish blue swirling in the mix.

"Follow the light !"

And the fireflight took off again. This time followed closely by his darkened shape, chasing the warmth along turns and dashes through unknown paths and detours.

Was the way their erratic trip wiggled and grew made any sense to him ?

Not really.

But he was willing to trust the other’s knowledge on this matter more than his own, not finding the energy and will to debate and potentially slow down the quest.

Better focus on that shooting star guiding him somewhere he hoped Nightmare would be.

Hopefully unarmed.

Soon the chase came to an end in some back alley, far from the few lighted houses they came across in their mad run.

Dream stopped.

The candle was blown out and Geno turned confused at the other.

A gut-wrenching cry tore open the blanket of the night, making his sliver of a soul sending waves of panicked magic through his limbs.

Not a word was shared as they ran, again, to a scene that will join the specters haunting his dreams for many years.

Under the faint light of a summoned light ball laid a scene reminiscent of a past not so far in an uncanny way.

A group in an alley.

Some laughing.

One holding Nightmare.

One getting ready to deal a heavy blow.

One major difference was that the blow was clearly aiming to kill. A foot on the skull, pressing more and more. Nightmare’s face drenched in tears and pain and fear.

Body shaking.

A purple sleeve far too flat.

And dust.

One was blown away in a whiny blast of power, falling to dust before even hitting the wall.

The giant maw of his blaster bit down on another hard, their blood indistinguishable from the usual determination’s red drip along the fangs.

Two were impaled, pinned down like the bugs they were, feeding the stone of a vile mix of dust and blood.

One fled, without a sound, the eyes filled with death and the legs full of terror.

Geno didn’t care, not batting his only eye at the massacre he just caused and walked toward the now curled up shape on the ground.

The monster carefully picked up Nightmare who seemed barely aware anymore and folded the now-empty right sleeve on his lap.

His fingers brushed a damp cheek for a second before Geno turned to Dream who despite looking accordingly distressed by the- by everything, was still here.

« We need to leave, they’ll come back armed. And no doubt they’ll pin it down on Nightmare too. I’m not scared of dying but would you be able to protect your brother if push came to shove ? »

Dream’s eyes wandered to the wall and the ground, to the bits and rest, then fell back to Nightmare and ended up searching for something in Geno’s gaze.

"Dream, I killed these people. They were going to kill your brother. They will do it again. I am not saying I was justified. I’m telling you Nightmare needs to leave right now and I will, as well. What is your decision ?"

The other’s eyes shone with something hard as stone and he took a step towards him.

“We need to go back to the tree before anything.”

Geno couldn’t help but grin despite the grim situation and extended a hand while keeping a strong hold on his precious baggage.

“Thankfully, I know a shortcut!”

And while Dream looked confused, he took his hand and Geno turned a corner, letting the familiar magic wash over him. Next step, they were at the tree.

To his credit, the guardian only stood shocked for a short moment, opening his mouth and closing it several times before glancing at Nightmare and getting back his bearings.

"Put him under the tree and stay on the lookout, I just need some minutes..."

The monster delicately laid down Nightmare in the grass, making sure his head was supported by a thick root. He let his forehead touched the other’s briefly and whispered :

"Hang in there, I still have to say sorry for all the crap I did and said to you."

Once that out of the way, Geno took a few steps away to survey the area and focused on the few lights decorating the village, counting each again and again to make sure no new ones were lit.

He glanced a few times at Dream who was sitting on his knees, eyes closed, hands joined as if praying, the skull barely brushing the bark. He remained perfectly still, assuredly focused on whatever he was doing.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

How had the day managed to slip away so atrociously between his fingers ? His eye fluttered on the ring still sitting innocently on his pinkie.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

Why did he get so mad at Nightmare being hurt badly ? He could still feel his soul’s fragment squeeze and shake as if it still needed to pump more magic his way right now.

One light, two, three, four, five, six. 

Will Nightmare be okay ? He was down an arm but would he recover alright ? Why did he care that much, he thought he’d be less sensitive to people he cared about getting hurt after everything…

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

He cared ? Did he get that attached to the guardian ? Eye on the ring, again. He fidgeted with his scarf, comparing Nightmare to his former family.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

No, it was not the same. Strangely, it didn’t feel any less deep or important than his love for them. Different however.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

...Love ? Geno almost forgot that word had another meaning than « level of violence » and, a bit deliriously, the thought his LV increased earlier wormed its way in his mind.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

Throwing that thought away, locking it with a key and making it melt, quelling the shaking and leaving that new burden on top of his problems for future late nights where sleep would evade him. Going back to the last thought right now !

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

This spectacular backtracking that left him swaying and unsteady landed him right back on Nightmare and… not violent love.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

The word twirled in his mind for a minute before one sudden realization made him halt his counting, desperately trying to get the sudden warmth that rushed through him to lower before it boiled him or something.

He loved him !

And wasn’t that awkward to realize that now, when the other was unconscious and in pain ! Geno curled down under the kick of feelings, burying his face in the scarf and putting some of the fabric above his head in a makeshift hood (not even trying to untangle his real hood from under his scarf).

Well, that was plain stupid in his opinion. Realizing you like someone after he was put in mortal peril, wasn’t that corny and straight up something he could have found in thousands of cliche romantic novels ???

Could someone come kill his idiot self and let him stay dead this time..?

He did not want to deal with that. Not right now, maybe never if that was an option.

Geno stood back up, slapping lightly his cheeks with both hands, mindlessly noticing how his left  arm didn’t conjure as much strength as the other. Stupid lightning.

One light, two, three, four, five, six...seven, eight, nine, TEN and more and-

Geno wired back towards the tree, ready to shout at Dream that the situation was potentially escalating very fast when he stopped at the sight.

The guardian was crying, leaning on the bark, a bag swung on his shoulder and a hand holding onto Nightmare’s sleeve, trembling and desperate-looking.

Geno ran at Nightmare’s side and frantically checked what he could. Nothing changed except that some fresh tears had once again wet the drying bone of his cheeks. He was still out but he somehow had cried again. The relief that washed over him made him lean and plant a fast kiss on the salted surface and he declared softly, with the sheer hope he really was still out :

"My guy, you can’t die when I just realized I got a stupid crush on you. Do you wanna turn me into a ridiculous tragedy hero ? I love you, ok. Even if you will have all the rights to hate me for what I’ve done at your wakes… Better not have heard that though."

Once out of his chest, he turned towards Dream to at least tear him a new one verbally for making him fear the worst.

He stopped, again, because the other looked like a downright awful agonizing weepy mess.

"I… I know what to do… But it would-will leave us vulnerable and you might have to, » a breath and a sniffle, « like support me and carry Night’ ?"

A muffled clamor resonated its way up there and then, they both knew there was little room left to argue and plan.

As much as he hated those pesky villagers, he was not going to attempt murdering them all…

So Geno nodded and Dream started to prep whatever he needed for his plan.

He watched the other climb the tree, a yellow blanket in his arm, and reached for a dark fruit, carefully putting in the fabric, never touching it directly. He picked a golden one with far less ceremony, hastily burying it in his bag as if it burned his fingers to do so.

The guardian hopped down swiftly and put the bundle of fabric against the injured’s chest as the noise kept growing not so far away.

"Keep the apple there, try your best not to touch it but it should be more or less fine for you. It must absolutely not touch me however, that’s vital."

He hummed his agreement, he was out of his depth, better leave the lead to the expert.

"Pick him up and get back a few steps."

He did.

Dream picked up a lone branch and asked him with half-words getting loose in the wind.

"Could you put that on fire with your weird floating puppy heads ?"

What was he planning… ?

"I could, but that’d put a target on us, they might not have figured out yet we went back here ? Why ?"

He didn’t get any explanation or anything much else but what he got was a simple:

 "I trust you."

And how could he ? A gross killer like him that proved he was truly capable of the worst. With how often Dream was downtown, he might even have known these guys by name. So, how could he ?

But those weren’t eyes that lie. He recognized hurt and fear in there but it was hard to argue that it wasn't genuine trust binding the thing together.

The thin stick was held closer by an unsteady hand and a please hung in the air between them.

The blaster he summoned was as small as he could, half an arm of length at best,  and its maw opened and prepped a blast, the whine reverberating loud and clear in the not-so-still night. He soundlessly ordered it to hold and as he tried to take the branch to light it up Dream all but plundged it without hesitation in the heat himself.

He didn’t have the time to express his dismay before twig became torch and at that point, things started to accelerate.

He will remember it as a chaotic blur, clashing feelings and noises.

Feet pounding up the hill, loud and numerous.

Shouts of anger and hate, illuminated by torches and reflected on the glistening metal of hastily-found weapons.

The rush of wind dampening words that felt too heavy for something said so softly.

"I’m sorry, mom. Thank you."

Dream seemed as ablaze by his light than the now-burning tree behind him.

And then, everything crumpled.

Dream fell as his light dimmed, Geno’s blaster catching him.

The shouts turned to incredulous silence and everything seemed eerie and wrong.

For a single second, nothing felt more important than this burning tree with its fruits turning to slop and dripping on the ground. 

The world was falling at its seams and everything was ringing, again and again.

He couldn’t have been long but that instant was forever, the balance shifted and stood, fragile.

Dream howled a soul-tearing cry, Nightmare cried again in his arms and Geno stood there, lost and alien.

Dream asked him to run soon after.

He did.

Nightmare secured against his chest by his good arm, the weight barely registering as he dashed through the forest, jumping over roots and dunking under low branches.

Dream hurried not so far behind them, supported by the blaster. 

Geno didn’t trust his left arm to support anybody while running with its still lacking strength.

They ran.

They ran.

They ran.

Until dawn’s blood spilled into the black canvas, until the forest stopped and started again, until they couldn’t run anymore.

And they ran again some more to be sure.

They stopped at a spot near a river and collapsed on rocks.

The place seemed so peaceful it made Geno reel.

The calm noise of water flowing between the trees and the soft whispers of nearby animals just seemed out of place, foreign, displaced when all he could hear and see was this brazier they fled from.

Geno stayed there for long, just haphazardly trying to process the day.

It wasn’t a very fruitful attempt and he sat for long, Nightmare on his lap, his head against his shoulder, limp.

And later they’d trudge around and find a circle of grass void of trees, with an old wooden house someone must have lived in once but now stood empty and full of spider webs.

And later they would pick themselves up and the twins would bury the last two apples and from it would grow two plants who’d braid themselves into one new tree of feelings. It would be void of spirit but it would exist.

And later, after they recovered some, they would live and laugh again.

But right now, they sat there. Dream a puppet without strings, Geno a stone statue and Nightmare struggling to wake up to the aching world.

Whispers tickled Geno’s mind, close. 

Barely opened eyes looked at him without any trace of confusion, pained but true.

He held him closer and the now treasure-less guardian buried himself into his chest.

"I love you too."

And while they all sat there, broken and lost, that one tiny thing would allow them the will to continue.

Someone may call it naive or mushy but what better thing than some love to ignite hope anew in one’s soul when everything fell apart already?

One story may have ended but, from the ashes, another will find space to grow.

Always.

The end.

(go to epilogue?)

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont

Geno!Sans belongs to @/loverofpiggies Nightmare, Dream and dreamtale belong to @/jokublog

[oboetemasuka]

Kicked out

An "Order of Attack" side story.

Part of a writing trade with @good-beanswrites.

Chapter 14 ends on a cliffhanger and doesn't explore the fallout. The next time you see Fuuta and Amane, they're doing better.

But what happened in between those chapters?

(cw: suicidal thoughts, cult mentality)

Amane curled herself up tightly under the blankets. It caused a terrible strain on her ribs, but she deserved it. Now she understood how the cat felt. She might even understand how Fuuta felt.

She thought that just because she could overcome her own trials, he could too. It hadn't dawned on her how much worse he had it. Fighting to breathe, too pained to move… Oh, how could she take it for granted? Just a few months of (relative) freedom, and now she thought everyone was on a brighter road. If she had to be stuck like this every day, trapped in the dark under Kirisaki Shidou's constant watch, wondering if Kotoko was going to return, would she too wish for the pain to go away permanently?

She should apologize to Fuuta. Tell him she was so caught up in her own world that she didn't consider other people's suffering. But she couldn't. The day she left, Shidou had closed the proverbial (and literal) door behind her. When she had returned the next day, he gave her a stern lecture.

"I will not allow you to see Kajiyama-kun again after all the harm you've caused him. You've proven time and time again that you can't be trusted around him. Sabotaging your healthcare is one thing, but inciting him to do the same? He is in a very vulnerable mental state right now. I will not have you pose a danger to him."

Was this how the good doctor would finally take her seriously? As a danger. A liability. If she would just stay out of the way, then Fuuta might finally-

Light filtered in through the blanket. The sound of quietly approaching footsteps echoed through the room.

"Amane-chan…" Of course. Who else would come to visit but Mahiru? "Do you need help?"

In response, Amane let out an animalistic growl, which was apparently considered an affirmative. A blinding light poured into her eyes as the blanket was lifted off her face.

"Amane-chan! Can you even breathe-"

Amane uncurled herself painfully, but she also accepted Mahiru's help this time. Anything to not have her running off to that doctor again. But she couldn't meet her eyes.

"You don't have to answer..." As if she would take silence for an answer. "But I'm really worried. You haven't run off like this since…"

Since the day Amane was discharged from the doctor's care. She never wanted to relive the helplessness and fear of being attacked, and yet she was doing that all over again. All she had to do was cry into Mahiru's shoulder, and the scene would be complete.

She would not put that final piece in place.

So they just sat in silence. Amane fought not to fall over.

Sister dearest was certainly waiting for an answer.

Amane wasn't going to give her one.

So they continued to sit in silence. Amane's head was spinning as she recovered from the pain of curling up.

…

"Why? Why do you always come over? Why do you keep trying to push your values on me and get me to live how you would? My end goal is the same either way, so why bother-"

It was like staring in a mirror. Wide eye(s), mouth slightly agape, perfectly matched.

It wasn't like Amane to snap like that. It was like she was airing someone else's grievances. This…

"This is about Fuuta-kun, isn't it?"

Amane kept her head down. "All I wanted… was to inspire him to live a more virtuous life. I should have realized…" She found herself crashing onto Mahiru's shoulder.

"Oh…" Mahiru carefully wrapped her arms around Amane. "You couldn't have known. Too many things were in play. I talked to him too. Shidou-san kept watch around the clock. Fuuta-kun hasn't been in…" She tapped her fingers, trying and failing to find the words.

"And what do you mean about Kirisaki Shidou?"

"So much has happened to get to this point. If he's making you feel like the blame is all yours, I'll have a word with him."

Tempting. Amane straightened her back and her expression. "Please do."

Mahiru stood up and gave Amane a pat on the head. "I promise you'll be able to visit again in no time."

[genocidehim]

Telling Tuco that you’re pregnant and thinking he’ll be mad but he’s overjoyed

notes: render is female, unwanted pregnancy. words: 1037

When the pregnancy test came back positive, you realized you were screwed.

Really screwed.

And it was a reality that could have happened at any moment since your only forms of contraception were the birth control pills you took every day. The condom was abandoned after the second encounter when Tuco became obsessed with the raw, pure sensation of sex with you, and by the time your relationship became more serious, the contraceptive methods were only on your side, as Tuco was Tuco and there wasn't much to do about it.

But now the result of your carelessness was in that positive pregnancy test and the slight swelling of your belly that was barely noticeable. Maybe you were one or two months pregnant, but you weren't even sure because terror seemed to be the only thing invading your thoughts.

You had no idea how Tuco would react to the news, he never talked about family or children, despite his siblings and cousins having already settled down with a family. Tuco lived his life very differently from the traditional Mexican family model, and you followed in his footsteps. You were young, too young to even think about getting pregnant, but it was too late to turn back now.

You had been avoiding the topic for weeks, during which time Tuco had become a bit more dependent on the drugs he used, and with that came more violent outbursts at work, but never with you. Normally, those outbursts would happen when something got out of his control and he didn't like it, and the thought of how he would react if he found out about your early pregnancy terrified you... What if he became violent? Would he be capable of doing something?

All your worries and fears led you to that day when Tuco was busy cooking lunch without being chemically altered. You wanted to approach him in his sobriety and in the mundanity of everyday life.

"Amorcito..." you called him as you quietly walked down the stairs barefoot.

From the kitchen, you heard a 'Dime, amor' accompanied by the sound of the frying pan splattering oil and the smell of cooked vegetables. You approached the kitchen and leaned against the door frame while looking at him with a shy expression on your face, quieter than usual.

"What's wrong? Why do you have that look on your face? The food is almost ready" Tuco said as he scraped the pot with a spatula.

All of that scene was worth admiring. Tuco, in his sobriety, looked like such an attentive husband; his worried gaze on you, that pastel-colored apron over him, how his voice sounded much softer and honeyed when he spoke to you, and the way he reassured you with more words. All those things really affected you emotionally, wishing he could put another child inside you as soon as possible.

You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts and resumed your confession.

"I wanted to talk to you about something important... Do you have a second?"

"For you, I have a lifetime. Tell me, what's going on?" he replied while continuing to cook.

It took you a while to get to the point, the anxiety filtering through your body and sweating through your pores. You didn't understand why you were afraid to reveal your pregnancy, why you felt like crying just trying to say the words, why the idea of him not accepting the news and leaving you scared you.

Your lips trembled before uttering the words, and you seemed deeply affected.

"My period hasn't come for months..." Your words came out soft, but that caught his attention instantly. His dark eyes widened at the moment and looked at you with surprise and seriousness, you trembled with fear. "And I took a pregnancy test and... I..."

When your words began to tremble and your eyes watered, Tuco let out a big sigh and turned off the stove to give you his full attention.

"And what about you?" His stern voice sent chills down your spine.

"I took several pregnancy tests and they came out positive..."

Silence filled the kitchen at that moment, the only sound you could hear was your heavy breathing and your heart about to burst. You couldn't look him in the eyes, you somehow felt guilty.

But Tuco's loud laughter snapped you out of your mental trance and forced you to look at him.

"¿¡Estás embarazada?!, Dios mío, no me lo puedo creer" The man had a smile from ear to ear that lit up his face, he looked so happy about the news that he couldn't stay still, going back and forth and babbling words of gratitude and blessings in spanish.

Feeling a great weight lifted off your shoulders, you sighed and let out a small cathartic laugh as you watched him in total amazement. Tuco approached you and held you tightly in his arms while dedicating sweet and cheesy words to you. When he pulled away and gave you a tender look, he placed his hand on your belly and touched the small bump with the palm of his hand.

"I can't believe my Amorcito is carrying my baby... How many months are you? Dios, I hadn't noticed the beautiful belly you have." His words tickled your ear and your smile eased the tension in your body.

"Two or three months... I don't know, just... I was scared to tell you when I found out."

"When you found out? And why were you scared?"

"A month ago and... I don't know, I was scared to think that you would hate me for getting pregnant and ruining your life..."

"Why would you think that? Corazón..." His lips landed on the softness of your cheek and he gave you a tender kiss. "I could never be angry with you for carrying my baby... Dios, what kind of man would I be if I hated the idea of you being pregnant?"

"We had never talked about this and well..."

"You shouldn't have worried your pretty little head with those mistaken ideas..." His lips now cradled yours in a tender and warm kiss before he continued speaking. "My God... You have no idea how happy Abuelita will be when she finds out you're pregnant. She will love you even more."

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 19: Psychological + “I’m not as stupid as you think I am”

Read on Ao3

- Sky

- Summary: The Shadow pulls a dirty trick to gain an advantage over Sky

CW for blood and injury

————————————

Sky’s hands are shaking.

It has been a long time since they have trembled while wrapped around the hilt of a blade. He could never afford for them too. Shaking hands means clumsiness, hesitation and fear made obvious to the enemy. In a fight against Ghirahim or Demise such weakness had spelled death. And besides, with the anger raging through him and the sorrow and terror hounding at his every step, he had found a strength he hadn’t even known was within him. A strength to keep going even when exhaustion dragged at him and every part of him ached. A strength to remain brave no matter the consequences.

That bravery has not left him now, nor the strength. But it is hidden regardless, hidden deep within. In the last few seconds it has fled to the recesses of his heart.

Because in the last few seconds his opponent has transformed. He had been fighting the Shadow, trading blows at a speed even he had had a bit of trouble keeping up with. Now, Zelda stands in the Shadow’s place, with the blade of Master Sword pressed against her neck.

Sky inhales sharply. Air filters through his nostrils, but still he feels like he is suffocating.

“Zelda?”

She smiles, sweet and familiar, like a dagger to his heart.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

Sky fights not to take a stumbling step back, fights against the urge to lower his weapon and his defenses alongside it. Everything within him screams that this is real, that the being standing before him is the woman he loves. And she certainly looks the part. Those big blue eyes look the same as the ones he loses himself in so often, the golden hair the same as the strands he weaves into little braids on lazy mornings. The way her nose crinkles slightly when she smiles, the tilt of her head, the way she holds herself, even — he realizes as she moves closer, heedless of the blade still against her neck — her scent…is all so very much like Zelda.

His Zelda.

She takes another step, eyes never leaving his. Sky swallows hard.

He wants to look around for the others. He can hear them still fighting somewhere behind him though, close enough for the sounds of struggle to be audible, too far to notice something is amiss and come to his aid.

He resists the urge to sigh. He should never have let himself become lost in the fight and lead away from his brothers. He knows better than that, he knows…

But he had dared hope that this could be it, the end of the Shadow. He had dared think that he could save those he loves.

Yet, now here he stands, facing the Shadow but staring at Zelda.

Sky closes his eyes for a long moment, reveling in the feel of cool darkness that alleviates some of the pressure behind them. The Shadow won’t attack him, not like this. He fears the blade too much.

…that’s right. The Shadow. The monster who stalks them in the dark and nearly stole Twilight’s life. The monster bent on killing nine heroes merely because they hold the sacred title.

The Shadow. A demon. Not his goddess.

He opens his eyes.

Zelda – no not Zelda, the Shadow – raises her eyebrows. “What’s wrong, sleepyhead? Surely, you believe that it’s truly me.”

“No, I don’t.” His voice is far more level than he expected it to be and it possesses a dangerous edge too. “You’re not her.”

Her lips curve upward. Something dangerous glints behind her eyes, a bit of crimson in a sea of blue.

“Well, then, I suppose you won’t have any problem killing me.”

Sky grits his teeth. One movement is all it will take, one swift swing of the blade. And with the anger roiling within him it should be an easy task.

Yet, still he can’t bring himself to do it.

The Shadow smirks. “No? I thought not. Few would be willing to slaughter someone with the appearance of a loved one.”

That glint returns. Alarm bells blare in the back of Sky’s mind, but they seem impossibly far away. It is dangerously easy to ignore them.

“Luckily, however, I have no such qualms.”

The monster moves quickly, little more than a flash of darkness in the waning sunlight, a stretch of shadows upon the ground. And in the next moment Sky chokes on a gasp as a blade embeds itself in his abdomen. His trembling hands finally give up. The Master Sword slips to the ground.

He follows suit mere seconds later, collapsing in a heap of limp limbs. Pain grips his abdomen and spreads outward, following the trail of his scars. Sky claws blindly at the hilt of the weapon still lodged in him. He wraps wet, blood drenched fingers around it and readies himself to pull it out. But a pair of soft hands enclose his own before he can.

He blinks away the gray and white static crackling before him and stares up into those cursed blue irises.

“You heroes are truly pathetic.”

Though his form is the same, the Shadow no longer sounds like Zelda. His voice is entirely his own now. And as Sky watches darkness begins to replace light, the offending disguise melting into the familiar being he has faced far too many times.

“You were so close to winning and yet you hesitated because you couldn’t kill her. For a seasoned warrior you certainly are soft. Foolish as well. You knew that the person before you was not your loved one. But it made no difference.”

The Master Sword lies a short ways away. Carefully, Sky reaches out for it. The hilt warms slightly at his touch.

“You’d be surprised,” he grits out past the pain and the blood. “I’m not nearly as soft and stupid as you think.”

He brings the sword up and plunges it into the Shadow’s neck.

It’s easy now, even with his arms already starting to feel leaden and his mind fuzzy. It’s easy now that the mask that had paralyzed him is gone.

The monster lets out an unholy screech and disappears in a cloud of black. Sky lets his arm fall limply back to the ground.

He isn’t even going to try and fool himself into thinking that the Shadow is gone for good. The Master Sword is powerful, but their enemy is cunning. Who knows what tricks he has up his sleeve that allow him to escape an early death?

But Sky can’t bring himself to care right now. It’s a bit difficult to think of anything with a sword still sticking out of him. His tunic has begun to feel terribly damp and he doesn’t have to look down to know why.

He blinks, hard, fighting against the oncoming haze. It’s a losing battle however. Everything hurts and the darkness seems far preferable to the harshness of his current surroundings. Plus, he is utterly exhausted. Maybe just a little nap wouldn’t hurt…

“Sky!”

The call reaches him past the ringing in his ears. Sky drags open eyes he hadn’t even registered closing.

“Rulie?”

The traveler comes into his line of vision, worry in his eyes and determination in his stance.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t worry. Just hold on, okay? I’m gonna heal you.”

Sky hums softly. Already, he is drifting away.

[kaysfanficcorner]

Out of This World Chapter 4:

Smuggler’s Moon

Author’s Note: Welcome everyone! This chapter is one that I’m pretty proud of and I’ve been looking forward to sharing. I had a lot of fun with this one, and sincerely hope you enjoy! A few edits have been made since this was posted, as I realized that I forgot to change something. If you’d like to be added to the Taglist please let me know!

Summary: Things on Nar Shaddaa take a turn, and the Earthling is forced to take matters into her own hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: Cursing, blaster violence, death. This story is strictly 18+

AO3

*****

Spending several hours locked inside the Razor Crest with the little green kid under your charge and your orange feline is nothing new to you by now. After nearly seventy-five days of living on the Razor Crest, its quite the normal routine. You’ve stayed put for all of Mando’s hunts thus far, sometimes for days, so its not a huge deal. What is new to you is the fact that a dangerous alien species might want to eat your brains because you’d agreed to be Mando’s bait. On top of that, you can’t help but feel as if the events over the last couple of days have led to you feeling much closer to the Mandalorian. So your worry for his safety is more at the surface than you’re used to. 

Anxious, you find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the open cot when four and a half hours have gone by without a word from your cosmic companion. You’ve been avoiding using the coms to call him for fear of interrupting the hunt, but its getting late. Mando himself said that Smuggler’s Moon is much more dangerous after nightfall, so as soon as the sun sets you feel incredibly perturbed. The beauty of Nal Hutta’s rings in the dark sky isn’t even enough to ease your mind. 

Inside the cot, the kid is curled up in your black blanket looking cozy as ever. His facial expression, however, is anything but cozy. Ears cast downward, your nanny child looks up at your pacing with worry in his large eyes and a frown on his little mouth. When you stop to look down at him, he makes a noise of displeasure.

“Yeah I don’t like this either, kiddo.” You agree, eyes flicking to the com-link on your wrist. “I should just call him, right?”

The kid responds with a little babble, and you nod. 

“Call him it is,” you say with a sing-song tone of fake cheerfulness. “Hopefully this isn’t a bad time.”

Holding your wrist up in front of your face, you click the call button and a little beeping noise  goes off after a second. “Mando?”

“Is everything alright?” Mando’s voice filters through, immediately calming your nerves a little.

“Yeah we’re fine, I was just checking on you.” You say back, sitting down on the edge of the cot while leaning back to run a gentle hand over the kid’s mildly hairy head. “The kid misses you.”

“Just him, huh?” There’s a lightly comedic tone to the Mandalorian’s voice, and you can’t help but think he sounds slightly flirtatious.

“I mean, I guess I do too.” Quipping back with an air of flirtation yourself, you allow yourself a moment to enjoy the feeling this stirs in you. Then you force your voice to grow a little more serious, “It’s getting late, is it sketchy out there?” 

Crackling filters through the speaker at first, followed by his voice again, “Nothing I can’t handle, but there’s no sign of the Anzat anywhere. I’m on my way back to the ship now. We can try again tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. Come back home and rest.” You say, content with the knowledge that he’s coming back in spite of your unease with the Anzat being out there somewhere. It won’t occur to you until much later that you’d used the word home to describe the ship. 

“Mm,” he responds with a pleasant sounding hum. The com-link makes anther beeping noise, and he’s gone.

About fifteen minutes or so later, the hatch of the Razor Crest opens and the familiar glint of silver heading up the ramp fills your stomach with butterflies and your chest with relief.  

The baby coos happily and jumps down from the cot, running on his little legs to meet his foster father as the ramp is closing again. Mando squats down to scoop up the kid in his arms, hugging him to his chest in a fatherly embrace as he stands to full height again.

“Hey buddy. Yeah, I’m back. It’s okay,” Mando soothes as the child nestles into him. Then the helmet turns slightly to fix upon you. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“He’s my top priority,” you say, “but you’re welcome.” Jupiter is circling your legs, so you squat down to pick her up with a chuckle. “Jupiter helped too. I’m pretty sure she loves him more than she loves me at this point.”

The two of you just stand there for a moment, each of you holding your respective well-loved creatures as you stare at one another. 

After a beat, Mando sits the kid on a crate and starts to strip himself of his weapons. Letting  Jupiter jump from your arms, you move to stand beside him and unstrap the blaster from your thigh before handing it to him to be hung up.

“So am I going out with you again tomorrow?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him.

The Mandalorian nods, hanging your blaster next to his. “If you’re up for it.”

“I am. I saw a few things I’d Ike to check out if I can,” you reply.

“Hungry?” He asks, turning to face you once his weapons are all put away in their proper places.

Holding a hand to your stomach you grin, “Starving.”

“Would you like to assist me? I could show you how to prepare some of the vegetables we bought today.” His voice sounds so lovely, and what he suggests is so domestic that your heart melts a little.

“I’d love that,” you nod, “If I’m being completely honest, listening to you explain stuff is kinda my new favorite thing.” 

You’re so sure of yourself up until the words leave your mouth, but once they do you’re feeling slightly bashful all of the sudden. Mando’s very being is doing things to you that you haven’t felt in such a long time. It feels ironically alien, as if you’ve completely forgotten how to act in front of someone you’re attracted to.

But then Mando surprises you with his own words as they mirror yours, and the trepidation in you melts away. 

His head tilts in that way that you love so much, “If I’m being completely honest, I enjoy providing you with new information more than you know.”

And so you cook with him, standing shoulder to shoulder in the tiny galley area as he explains some of the meager spices he has on hand. Where each one comes from, what its made of, and what combinations work best together. Then he shows you how to work what is essentially a hot plate that he rigged up himself using spare parts. This ship was not designed for long term living or luxury, it had been designed for military use. So in order to make it livable, Mando has been making little upgrades here or there over the years to make the Razor Crest into a sort of mobile home.

A silly thought crosses your mind while you are thinking about this, eliciting a snort and a laugh from you.

Mando’s head turns from focusing on sautéing the blue tinted broccoli-like vegetable matter, to focusing on you. His body language is some of the most relaxed you’ve seen from him despite where the four of you are and the hunt that still needs to take place. 

His baritone chuckle filters through the helmet’s modulator, “What could possibly be funny?”

“I’ve told you about the vehicles we drove on Earth, right?” You ask, still laughing at yourself all the while. He nods, so you continue, “Well some people had these huge vehicles that encompassed very tiny living spaces to make long term travel more comfortable. We called them mobile homes, or RVs. It just occurred to me that the Razor Crest is your version of a RV. I’m gonna call it the Space RV from now on.” 

The mental image of Mando and the kid sitting in the front seat of an old 80’s Winnebago is so hilarious that it makes you cackle, throwing a hand onto Mando’s shoulder as you lean your head back and hold your stomach with the opposite appendage. What really gets you is that you imagine both Mando and the kid with little Mickey Mouse ears as if they’re driving back from Disney World. Mando’s helmet with black ears on top is such a ridiculous notion.

The Mandalorian looks to where the kid is sitting on a tall stack of crates in order to be level with the two adults, shaking his silver head. “Do you understand why she thinks that’s so funny? No? Yeah neither do I, kid.”

When you finally stop laughing, wiping a stray tear from your left eye, you let go of Mando’s shoulder to stand up straight again. “Oh man, that was great. My cheeks hurt from laughing so hard.”

“Such a strange woman,” Mando says, chuckling again.

“You like it,” another bout of courage emerges from within you.

“I do,” he agrees, leaving you a smiling mess. 

In an effort not to over do the flirting too quickly, you redirect your attention to the kid. As much as you’re enjoying this new level of banter between yourself and the Mandalorian, it’s probably best to ease off a little.

“What do you think about it, Green Bean?” Scooping the child up into your arms, you swing him a around a few times before dancing to and fro as you bounce him. Humming one of his favorite Earth songs as you boop your nose into his, the kid squeals with delight while grinning up at you.

“You’re talented with him. Do you want one of your own one day?” Mando suddenly asks, voice earnest.

“A kid?” Halting your movements, you look down into the huge dark brown eyes of your nanny child and run a finger along one of his long ears. His mouth opens and closes as he babbles. “Honestly? If I have to give birth to it, the answer is no. Pregnancy, or rather the idea of having to go through it myself, has always made me super uncomfortable. I’ve always said I’d adopt a child if I had the right partner to do it with, though. There are too many little ones out there in need of a loving family. Having a biological offspring isn’t important to me in the slightest.”

“That’s a noble way to look at it,” he says after a moment. “Any foundling would benefit from having a mother like you.”

“Thank you for saying that.” Your heart swells at the compliment, and to hear him speak of you in such a way. “You’re great with the kid too, Mando. You’d make a wonderful dad.”

The Mandalorian suddenly sounds vaguely dejected, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I appreciate that.” 

You frown, noticing his change in demeanor. “You okay?”

Coming to stand directly in front of you, Mando reaches a gloved hand out to stroke the kid’s head. “Just don’t want to think about the day he’s not here anymore.” 

The two of you look down at the little green baby, waves of sadness washing over you. Mando’s probably feeling something similar, if not worse. The kid babbles and wiggles his clawed hands around, adding to the conversation in his own little way.

Your eyes flick up to the black visor, and your hand unconsciously rises to cup the side of the beskar as if you’re cupping Mando’s actual cheek. He doesn’t flinch or try to stop you from touching the helmet. This is the first time you’ve ever felt it’s cold exterior on your fingertips. “Then don’t think about it right now. Just enjoy him. Enjoy this time with your foundling.”

After handing the child to the Mandalorian, its very clear that he’s having a deeply emotional moment. The way he gently presses his helmet to the child’s forehead while holding him in such a loving manner causes you to get misty eyed. Staying quiet, you move to finish up with the meal. Mando already completed most of the work, so there’s not much left to do anyway.

A somber silence falls upon the Razor Crest as you stir the blue vegetables and Mando rocks his foster son back and forth. 

*****

The following morning Din wakes up to the sound of your soft humming. His helmet is on, he’s in the cot with the door open, his gloves are off, and he’s holding the sleeping child to his chest.

You’re on the other end of the room in the galley making a pot of caf, and since you haven’t noticed that he’s awake yet, Din takes a moment to appreciate your appearance. With messy hair in a heap above your head and very little clothing, you’re a sight to behold. On your torso you have on a dark purple sleeveless garment that covers your breasts but not much else, and on your bottom half you have on a pair of black pants which only reach down to mid thigh. Your socked feet are hip width distance apart and you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wait for the caf to finish brewing. 

Just as Din is ready to alert you of his presence, you bend at the waist with your chest to your thighs and let your arms dangle below your head. You take a few deep breaths in this position and then you crawl your hands out in front of you and your body takes on an upside down V shape. After taking more deep breaths you extend one leg into the air before bringing the leg down in front of you. With knee and ankle behind each wrist, your other leg slides straight back behind you. You hinge at the waist and bend your body forward, forehead resting on stacked palms.

He’s seen you do this yoga exercise before, but on this particular occasion Din is completely mesmerized by it. Your flexibility and the possibilities of such a skill cause his mind to wander to unsavory places.

Then the child stirs with a loud noise, and the inappropriate trance is broken. 

“Morning guys,” You say from the floor, never once breaking the stillness of your pose.

“Good Morning,” Din replies, yawning softly after. The kid gets up and climbs across Din’s body before he hops down from the cot, moving over to where you’re changing poses.

“Hi, Green Bean. Just give me a sec and I’ll love on ya.” You’re finishing out the same pose but on the other side, and the kid ignores you by climbing onto your back anyway. You don’t move, but your chuckles shake him around a little. “Alright that works too, dude.”

As Din pries himself from the cot, he looks down to where your blanket and pillow are in a heap just outside of the cot. It had been made into a makeshift little sleeping spot the night before.

“Did you sleep okay there?” He asks, stretching his arms out as he stands to full height. 

“Yeah I slept fine enough. This whole Anzat thing is a little creepy so was just nice to be close to you both.” You reply, pushing yourself up with the child still sitting on your back as if he’s riding a blurrg. Slowly, he begins tipping to the left and his whole body inevitably starts to follow.

Din grabs him just as he’s about to slide off of you, and you take the opportunity to stand up again. “You can have the next turn in the cot,” Din says.

“I wont say no,” you groan a little and put a hand to your lower back, “I was doing yoga for a reason.”

“Perhaps when we are done with this I’ll see about getting a second cot put in.” Din watches you carefully as he makes this suggestion, knowing full well that it’s an invitation for you to stay on the Razor Crest for as long as you want. He wants to see if your reaction is as positive as he hopes it will be, and he’s not disappointed. 

Your eyes widen slightly and your mouth drops open into a wide grin. “Really?”

“If you’re going to stick around for a while, you’re going to need a proper place to sleep.” Din’s own grin is spread across his features under the beskar. 

To Din’s surprise you say nothing but instead close the distance between the two of you by hugging him around the waist, careful not to bump into the kid who’s still in Din’s left arm. The right hugs you back a little after a slight moment of hesitation. A beep suddenly goes off in the galley then, causing you to pull away from him sooner than he would have liked. Looking up at Din with a content smile, you kiss the green child atop his little head before moving to go deal with it. The tender sight of it is almost too much for him.

With your back to Din, you look over your shoulder slightly and ask, “Caf?” 

“Please,” Din agrees with an almost dreamy voice, chest so full after such an innocent display of affection towards his foster son. He’s well aware that he’s allowing himself to become entirely too attached to you, but at this point he’s not sure that it’s something he can help.

You bring him a steaming cup, motioning that you’d like to take the kid with your own cup in hand. “I’m going to hang out upstairs so you can have some privacy. The cat’s already up there, so come on, kiddo.”

Din doesn’t want you to go, so he reaches out a bare hand to grab your forearm. His thumb gently runs along the inside of your wrist a little. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m not comfortable invading your space.” You counter, frowning a little. Clearly, you’re confused as to what Din means.

Din thinks for a moment, feeling incredibly conflicted about wanting to be able to do something as simple as share a morning caf with his friend while not actually having that luxury. Then an idea strikes him and he hands you the kid, pulling up a rectangular crate. “Sit here,” he says, motioning towards one edge. 

Looking skeptical, you comply regardless and Din moves to sit on the other side of the crate with his back against yours. The two of you are pressed into each other while facing in opposite directions.

“Are you sure about this?” Your voice is clearly shocked by his suggestion, and he looks back to make sure you’re keeping the kid facing in the same direction away from him.

“I won’t lift it higher than my mouth,” Din assures you. “Before you came to stay with us, I used to do it while the kid was in the room and he never saw my face. I’ll be careful.” 

You stay quiet for a moment before Din hears you take a deep breath and let it out, accompanied with a pleasant sounding noise before you respond. “I promise that I won’t turn around until you give it the all clear. He won’t either, I’ll keep a close eye on him.” 

With that, you lean more of your weight into his back as you get comfortable and Din can hear you take a long sip from your steaming cup with a contented sigh.

So he lifts the base of his beskar helmet just enough to take a lengthy drink from his own cup, a warm contented feeling flowing through him along with the warmth of the caf running down his throat. 

*****

A few hours later, you find yourself back on the streets of Nar Shaddaa with the Mandalorian never more than a a foot or two away from you. This time you’ve donned the new clothes you purchased the day before, and its a look you could find yourself getting used to. Back on Earth you’d been so worried about what people thought of you that you rarely dressed in a way that suited your inner personality, even with the attempts you’d been making to break yourself of the toxic mentality that sprouted in your youth.

Living in this galaxy, indescribably far away from anyone who ever knew you, life feels more free than you ever thought possible. Here you feel more able to be your most authentic self, to present yourself in a way that fits in with the version of you that you’d like to be. It’s invigorating.

Following Mando, face once again hidden beneath the black hood from the day before and blaster strapped to your new suspenders, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be in this juncture of your life. The idea of staying in this galaxy, of flying off on adventures to random planets with your cosmic companion and his alien kid, feels so right that the back of your head tingles as something akin to exhilaration flows through you. It’s beginning to sound like the most appealing option at your disposal, despite how the littlest part of you is still very conflicted. What’s going to change if the kid leaves? Palatable fear of heartbreak is also in your thoughts, heartbreak if the kid isn’t around anymore and if Mando never reciprocates your feelings. You don’t want your life to revolve around another person, but instead for his presence to become complimentary to your own.

Do I want this for the right reasons? You ask yourself, watching the Mandalorian guide you trough the crowds that somehow seem bigger than they had the day before. He’s playing a major role in why you can see yourself staying, whether you’d like to admit it or not.

Mind wandering to the morning, how it felt to sit back to back with him while enjoying your morning coffee together, another thought crosses the forefront of your mind. To Hell with the right reasons. You’ve over thought every decision in your life and that’s why you haven’t done anything with it. This could be your chance to finally live.

Watching the man you’ve grown very fond of weave in and out through the swells of various species bustling around, you can’t help but grin widely. Thinking about a life, a real one where your perpetual sense of autopilot is finally turned off, with the Mandalorian by your side leaves you a giddy mess. 

The Mandalorian in question then turns to check on you, and you’re sure the look of giddiness on your slightly hidden features is not mistaken for anything else.

“What are you smiling about?” He asks, stopping off to the side of the foot traffic.

“Oh, you know, this and that.” You reply, still grinning.

“Mm,” he hums, helmet dipping slightly, “What was it you wanted to do today?”

“Well this may sound silly,” you start, and he cuts you off.

Head tilting to the left, Mando’s voice drops a little so that only you can hear him. “You don’t have to preface what you want with an excuse. Ask.”

Although it’s a little hard for you to be upfront about what you want, you take a deep breath and look right into the visor where his eyes ought to be. “I’d like to get art supplies for the kid and I’d like to get my hair cut. It’s too long to properly manage and it’s been driving me nuts.”

His voice is clearly surprised, “Oh. Sure, you can do that.”

“I have no idea where to go, do they even have places like that here?” You ask, feeling awkward about getting a haircut in a place like Nar Shaddaa even though it was your idea to begin with. Hopefully this isn’t about to be a huge disaster that you’ll have to live with for a the next few months.

“Yes there’s actually a place up ahead. Will this take long?” Mando asks, and you shake your head.

“I mean maybe an hour tops if there’s no wait.” You reply, yelping when your shoulder is roughly bumped by a pedestrian who walks a little too close. Shooting a glare in the person’s direction makes you feel slightly better, but you look back to Mando with irritation in your voice. “Damn, that guy could have said excuse me or something.”

Mando watches the person closely for a few moments before his attention falls back onto you. “Would you be comfortable with it if I take care of a few things while you’re in there? I’ll be done before you so I can grab the things for the kid, and I’ll wait for you outside until you’re finished.” 

“Works for me,” you agree, waving your wrist carrying the com-link around. “I’ll call if I need you.”

“Likewise,” he says.

*****

Din is almost certain that the man who’d bumped into you is not entirely human, and so a red flag goes off in his head as soon as he gets a good look at the guy. Although Din didn’t get a good look at it, something about his face is just off. Particularly his slightly flared, bulbous nose and grayish skin tone. On top of this, it ad been no accident. The man had deliberately knocked his shoulder into yours. If Din were to bet on it, his credits would be on this man to be the suspected Anzat.

But why would he make his presence known on purpose? The only reason Din can surmise is that the Anzat is also hunting, and that had been some form of tactic on his end. Din wishes desperately that he hadn’t been foolish enough to take a bounty puck for a species that he only carries basic knowledge of.

He could be endangering the kid and he could be endangering you. And why? Just because he’s confident in his abilities both as a warrior and a hunter? But what if that’s not enough?

Regardless, Din decides not to alert you to any immediate threat as he drops you off at the beauty shop. Once he’s sure that you’ll be there for the next hour or so, he heads out into the crowded market in search of the possible Anzati man. Din hopes to Maker that leaving you on your own isn’t a huge mistake.

The better part of a half hour goes by, leaving Din with no trace of the man he’d seen earlier. He picks up some art supplies for the kid per your request when he stumbles across a small stand for it, along with a few personal items for himself at another, but he’s never not on high alert. 

Which is why it startles him some when a vaguely familiar voice interrupts his train of thought.

“Oh, so the Mandalorian is back,” it’s the elderly Twi’lek from the day before. Somehow Din’s ended up back in front of the jewelry stand. “Where’s your wife?”

“Not my wife,” he says curtly.

“Whatever she is to you then, where is she?” The woman croaks, coughing after.

“What does it matter?” Din responds, turning to walk away from the woman entirely.

“She must be important. A man paid me a lot of money to tell him where the two of you went yesterday.” She smirks, “If you meet his price I’ll tell you where I last saw him. I’ll even throw in that cheap necklace your woman was admiring for free.”

Din’s spine straightens, muscles tightening. He turns back to face the Twi’lek with loose morals and moves to stand in front of her. “How much?”

“Fifty,” she says evenly, and Din drops half the amount of credits on the table without hesitation. She looks down at it with a scoff, then back up to the Mandalorian. “That’s twenty five.”

Protecting the ones he cares about is his only priority in this moment. His hackles are more than raised. Din squares his shoulders and fixes her with a glare beneath the beskar. “If you told him where we were going then you don’t deserve anything at all. I’m being generous.”

The old woman fixes Din with a hard stare before her features melt back down to uninvested and she shrugs her shoulders, looking away. “Suit yourself.”

Din carefully sets his blaster down on the table and points it at her, voice low and even as he leans forward. “I wouldn’t kill an old woman, but I would definitely ruin her afternoon.”

Green hands in the air as a sign of surrender, the woman shakes her head. “Fine, I’ll take the twenty-five.”

Din puts the blaster back in its holster while she scoops up the credits and stows them away in a pocket. The Mandalorian continues to glare at her, hoping that his body language is getting his anger across. “Speak.”

“I told him that you were going back to your ship. I heard you name the vessel when you walked off with her. He passed by here again earlier today, but I did not speak to him.” Her unhelpful response makes Din want to shout, but he stays cool. 

“Do you know anything else about him? Where he went after you saw him?” 

“He went down towards the food stands. That’s all I know. But I’ll tell you this: I think he’s not human.” Shaking her wrinkled head, she repeats the last statement. “Definitely not human.”

Din stands to full height again, turning his back to the woman. “Thanks,” he says, wanting to add  a ‘for nothing’ but decides not to. 

But then her voice picks up again so he stops. “If I’m right, you might want to be careful. His kind can control the minds of others in order to get what they want. Some kind of genetic ability.”

Stomach turning, a suddenly nauseous Din Djarin processes this information while deciding that he is, indeed, a fool. He’s got to get you back to the ship as soon as possible.

On his way out from under the Twi’lek’s canopied stand, he sees the planet necklace you’d admired the day before and he pauses to look back at the old woman with his hand hovering over it.

“Go ahead, I’ve got a whole crate of those. It’s shiny junk.” She waves him off, turning her attention to something mundane on the table

Din pockets the necklace and starts to head back in your direction when his com-link beeps.

“Hey, Chrome Dome. I’m almost done, where are you?” Your voice filters into his helmet’s speakers. 

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Stay put.” Din’s on edge, and knows that he probably sounded as much to you.

“Copy that,” your reply comes, and with a another little beep your voice is gone.

Din takes off in your direction briskly, well aware that the Anzat could be close by. This is man a hunter and Din knows the language of a hunter better than any of the many languages he can speak. 

He rounds a corner after a long five minutes of dipping and dodging, and Din sees you standing with your back to him in front of the beauty shop. Your hood is up but when he recognizes your body and clothes right away, a sense of relief washes over him. The Anzat may be close but now that Din has you he can get you back to the kid and deal with the brain-eater in the only way he knows best.

When he approaches and you turn to face him, pulling back the hood once you realize it’s him, you barely look like yourself for the first few seconds he’s observing you. Din says your name in a questioning tone and then adds a stunned, “wow,” when he truly takes in the sight of you.

Your wild hair, once long and unruly, is cut nearly as short as his own hair is beneath the helmet. It’s the shortest in the back and gets longer in the front, with wavy pieces falling elegantly across your forehead. On top of such a drastic change, the color has been altered to a dark shade of purple. 

Din is so floored that he momentarily forgets that there’s danger afoot, wishing that he could reach a bare hand out to touch it. 

“I’m obsessed,” you say with a grin as you reach up to move it around on your forehead a little, clearly more than happy with the results. “They used some guck from a morogian snap plant to dye it. Apparently the color will hardly ever fade, and it didn't take as long as a dye job back home. I would have been too self conscious to try hair like this on Earth, but I’m so happy that I went for it.” Then your face suddenly becomes bashful, voice taking on a timid tone. “You like it?” 

“Mesh’la,” Din breathes, then quietly adds on for your benefit, “beautiful. Mando’a for beautiful.”

Cheeks flushing, you dip your head in a nod. “Thank you, ner burc’ya.” 

Then you notice the bag he’s carrying and ask if he got the supplies for the kid, and Din snaps back into reality. The effect you have on him is worrisome if it can distract him this much.

“You need to get back to the Razor Crest. We may have a problem.”

*****

Ranik A’kazz follows the woman and the Mandalorian all afternoon, attempting to break into the woman’s foul smelling mind for most of it. She appears to be the weaker of the pair, and so he assumes that entering her mind will be one of the easiest attempts he’s ever made. 

Ranik assumes wrong. No matter how close he gets, he cannot break into the mind of the woman to save his life. It must be whatever is wrong with her that makes her smell so awful. Perhaps where she comes from is a tainted place. 

No matter the reason, Ranik is unsuccessful and must give up. Even though it pains him to have attempted it, he cannot even break in after making physical contact out on the street. Touch usually creates an instant link, and this results in nothing whatsoever. Having to touch her is indescribably awful for Ranik, offending every single one of his senses.

After Ranik realizes he will not be able to break into the woman, he knows he must attempt to break into the Mandalorian. 

Then the pair goes their separate ways and he follows the Mandalorian from higher up, using his excellent skills in agility to climb along some of the buildings. Ranik watches as he stops to speak to the old crone at the jewelry stand again. The bounty hunter pays her for information regarding Ranik himself, and then moves on to find his woman again.

Ranik drops down once the Mandalorian is out of sight, moving swiftly to the jewelry stand. The old crone doesn’t even get out a word before Ranik puts a blaster to her head and pulls the trigger.

*****

Stomach in knots, you’ve got an uneasy feeling in the pit of your gut all the way back to the ship. The Mandalorian is booking it, so you really have to pick up the pace in order to keep up. Once you're inside and you know that the kid and Jupiter are still safe, the uneasy feeling doesn’t subside.

Out of breath, you pant, “Mando, please be careful.” You look up at him with a grimace. “I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is gonna happen.”

“I’m always careful,” Mando replies. You think he must have really noticed the contorted look on your face because he quickly adds, “I promise I’ll be as careful as I can. You be safe and take care of the kid.”

“I promise,” you say almost sadly, holding on to yourself. 

Then the Mandalorian surprises you by closing the distance between you and placing a hand on your shoulder. Leaning forward, he gently rests his beskar clad forehead to yours. The metal is so cold, your nose fogging up the visor a little as you realize that his eyes, his face, it’s all so close to you. 

What you wouldn’t give to kiss him.

“I’ll be back,” he says after a long moment. 

“You better,” you reply seriously.

Then you break apart, and he reminds you that the com-link is still open and you’re welcome to use it if you need him. You know to use it sparingly if he’s on the hunt, but the fact that you have it at your disposal is a welcome comfort. 

Mando scoops up the kid for a little hug before handing the baby over to you, he pats the cat on the head, and then he makes his way down the ramp of the ship. He turns to look at you as the hatch closes back up.

You hate seeing him slowly disappear, and you hate how vulnerable you suddenly feel without his presence. 

Sighing, you take the baby and the cat back over to the cot so you can shut the three of you inside while hoping for the best end result to this situation. Of course you bring the blaster in with you, just to be safe. Although you're still not a great shot, the practicing you’ve been doing with Mando has paid off considerably. You’re much better than you were a few weeks ago.

There you spend the next hour fiddling around nervously on the iPad while checking the com-link every couple of minutes. The kid is preoccupied with your new hairstyle for a little bit but after a while he’s clearly getting bored, restless, and worried for his foster dad. It’s getting on your nerves a little but you don’t feel comfortable leaving the cot just yet. He’s fussy and on edge just like you are, and for that you can’t blame him. 

Suddenly, causing you to jump, the com-link goes off. The baby looks down at your wrist with a concerned look on his face, ears casting downward. 

“Hunt is almost complete,” Mando’s voice filters through, but something about it sounds completely off. Your heart sinks with dread. “I’ll be back to the ship soon.”

Perhaps you feel as if he’s off because you’re not used to speaking over coms when he’s on high alert. You respond with, “Copy that,” and he goes radio silent again.

Within fifteen minutes you can hear the hatch of the Razor Crest open back up and relief floods your system. This entire situation has you so unnerved, and you’re looking forward to being done with it. 

When you hear the ramp shut again, you press the little button beside the cot door and the thing slides up to open. The smile you were planning to greet your friend with drops upon seeing the scene before you. 

Mando is walking towards you with his hands behind his head, and he’s being followed closely by a man you’ve never seen before holding an open hand out towards Mando’s back. Instinctively, you move your entire body in front of the open cot to hide the kid.

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically, eyeing the stranger with a narrowed expression of distrust.

The man has a round bulbous nose, grayish skin, and seemingly human looking features. Long brown hair tied back and tan colored clothing make him look less harmless than he actually seems to be. If he has Mando held up, he’s clearly dangerous. 

“So you’re the one who smells so repugnant,” the man says, holding back an obvious gag as he speaks to you with a strange accent. 

You snort, trying your best to play it cool even though you're losing it inside. “Aww! Thanks for the compliment, dickhead. What do you want?”

His facial expression changes from that of revolted, to one of obscene pleasure. “The child behind you, madam.”

You look down to see the kid peeking out from behind your legs. The cat comes out of the cot as well, hissing violently at the intruder. 

“Fat chance, dude. Mando, what’s going on here?” You address your cosmic companion, but he doesn’t answer. Nor does he move a muscle.

“The Mandalorian is under my thumb for the time being, I’m afraid.” With that, the man waves his hand and Mando drops down to his knees with a painful sounding thud. If he felt any pain from that, he makes no obvious show of it. The stranger continues, “My name is Ranik. I am the bounty your friend here was looking for.” 

Okay, so the Anzat has mind control powers. Although you’re absolutely terrified, an adrenaline fueled maternal instinct to protect the child takes over and allows you remain calm on the outside.

“Cool, nice to meet you. You’re still not taking our kid.” You reply evenly, fully aware of the phrasing.

“Oh but I think I am. There’s nothing you or your friend can do to stop me.” He then moves his hand away from Mando, who fully drops to the ground in a heap, and instead points his open palm out towards you.

A small prickling feeling starts at the back of your head, but that’s all that ever comes and it quickly fizzles back out. It feels just like an odd sensation you’d felt earlier that day in the market, the realization of what that means washing over you.

Ranik seems to grow frustrated by this, “What species are you? Your brain chemistry is unlike anything I’ve ever come across. Your soup is abhorrent.”

“Human,” you bite back, “I guess where I’m from we’re just built differently.” Taking a chance, you glance down at the kid and then to the blaster still strapped to your hip.

“Regardless, I’ll be taking my meal now.” Ranik draws out, and to your sickening horror fleshy tentacle like things begin to wiggle out of from little holes on either side of his face.

The protruding gray flesh is appalling, and when you imagine him using those to kill the child you’ve come to love, your stomach turns while your anger flourishes. 

On the ground Mando groans, curling up into a fetal position while cradling his helmeted head in his hands. He’s not going to be any help any time soon, and you quickly realize that this situation is entirely on you to handle. 

Just as you’re trying to figure out what to do next, Ranik’s hand moves down to point at the kid. Struggling to fight back, the green toddler puts his own hand up and closes his big brown eyes. His little arm begins shaking, and then his eyes open again. They seem to be glazed over, his arm dropping to his side as he starts mindlessly scooting out from behind your legs. 

Ranik has a mental hold over him. You do not allow yourself to panic, though, grabbing the blaster from your thigh and flicking the safety off just as Jupiter launches herself at Ranik. He cries out in anger as she digs her claws into his leg an bites down, batting her off of him with a force you do not appreciate. She’s unscathed, but he knocks her back a good five feet and your blood boils.

Seething between your teeth and scared out of your mind, you hold the blaster just the way the Mando taught you. “You’ve got one more chance to fuck off. I suggest you take it.”

The kid is nearly to Ranik now, the sickening tendrils from his face whipping around wildly. Almost as if the tendrils themselves are excited at the prospect of a good meal.

Ranik goes to bend over in order to pick up the child, and you fire. The first shot misses and Ranik stands up, angrily regarding you. 

“Your presence is becoming tedious, foul woman.” He spits, forgetting the child just long enough for you to fire again.

This time the blast hits him directly in the chest and you let out a scream of rage. You fire multiple times, peppering him with shots until he drops to the floor. Shaking all over, you run over to where the Anzat lay bleeding on the floor. He twitches, tendrils still waving around wildly as he makes little sputtering noises. Then he begins to pick himself back up, coughing up oddly colored blood all the while.

Without a second thought, you put the blaster to his head and pull the trigger.

Ranik crashes back down to the floor, the sick realization that you’ve just killed someone washing over your body. The blaster falls from your grasp with a loud clink on the ground, and you drop down onto your hands and knees. Dry heaving, you hold your stomach as you sob wildly. 

“What have I done?” Saying this over and over again, you fall over onto your right side.

Mando’s voice is in your ears then, saying your name. It’s weak, but he sounds like himself again. “Ugh, my head.” He groans painfully, attempting to pull himself up with shaky arms.

“Mando?” Your sobbing subsides for a moment when your need to check on him takes over, crawling over to where he’s trying to gain his bearings. The kid is sitting up next to his foster father, blinking wildly while holding onto his own head with little claws, face scrunching up in pain. Laying a hand on Mando’s chest, you touch the forehead of his helmet with the other as you peer into the visor.

“Wha- what happened?” He asks, shaking his head around. Once he’s able to sit up again, his breathing is heavy and strained. You break apart and slide back a little.

“I killed him,” you say quietly, arms holding onto each other as your rock yourself.

“Shit,” Mando curses, saying your name again followed by a string of apologies.

Jupiter comes over to sniff at the three of you, ensuring that the humans and her little green friend are still in tact, before hissing down at the body of the Anzat and scampering off. When you down look at his lifeless face, long tendrils still hanging limply from his cheeks, you fall onto your back as you panic once again.

The child waddles over to you and places a tiny hand on your forehead, and you start to sob even more hysterically at the thought of what would have happened if you hadn’t just killed someone. You grab him and hug him to your chest tightly, “I’ve got you, little Green Bean. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Then you pass out.

*****

Sever hours later, you awake in the cot with your blanket draped over you and Jupiter sleeping by your side. Head pounding in painful waves and body dripping with sweat, confusion fills your mind as to why you’re in bed and why you feel horrendously. You sit up as if your body weighs a ton, and you finally understand what people really mean when they claim to feel as if they’d been hit by a truck.

“Mando?” Calling out to the Mandalorian, you peer around your view of the first floor for a moment before your eyes land on an oddly colored stain on the floor and the memory hits you like a brick.

You see every moment of it play out before you, seeing the Anzat die by your hand as pang of nausea drops through your belly.

“Oh, fuck,” you exclaim, taking a few deep breaths with your eyes closed in order to try and clam yourself down. 

Suddenly Mando’s voice is in your ears saying your name and your eyes snap open. He’s crouching in front of the cot, watching you closely. The cat jumps down and runs off.

“Mando, I-I,” your lip begins to quiver as you stutter off.

“I’m very sorry that you had to do that,” he says gravely.

“I can’t believe I killed someone.” Your body starts to twitch and convulse with anxiety.

His shoulders square a little as he shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have had to. It’s my fault for taking this quarry. Taking a life for the first time is something that will be with you for a long time, but you protected the child, and for that I can’t thank you enough.”

“Where is he?” You’re asking about the kid.

“Sleeping in the pod over there. He’s worn out but he’s okay. Unfortunately this sort of thing isn’t new for him.” Mando responds, gesturing to where the closed pod is sitting on the floor nearby.

Thinking about how devastated the two of you would be if the child had been killed instead, some of the guilt you feel subsides and your nervous system evens out a little. You know that you may never not feel guilty for taking a life, but you were defending an innocent toddler from horrific murder. Saving the child means you also saved Mando from unspeakable heartbreak. As much as this is huge a shock to the system, you’re grateful that the ones you care about are still with you.

“It’s not your fault, Mando.” You say after a moment, sighing as you run a hand through your hair and are shocked by what you feel. “Oh shit, I forgot this is short now.” 

Mando also sighs, looking away from you. “I think it’s best that you stay on Nevarro when we return.” 

Your heart sinks, “What? What are you saying?”

“I endangered the child. I endangered you. I am not fit to care for him or to be your friend. I’m going  fulfill my duty by getting him to his people as soon as possible and you’re going back to Nevarro.” His voice is both strained and cold. 

“No,” you say angrily. 

“Yes,” he bites back.

“No. You’re not going to punish me or yourself for a mistake that wasn’t completely your fault.” At this point your head is pounding so badly and your temper is rising so much that you want to scream at him.

The Mandalorian’s head dips, “Your presence here is distracting. When I’m distracted, people get hurt. I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

You can’t help but argue, a storm of emotions thundering trough your body. “You haven’t hurt anyone. A stranger tried to hurt us. I feel sick knowing that I killed him but nothing was going to harm that baby while I was around. The only reason the kid is still here is because the Anzat couldn’t control my mind. And the fact that he controlled yours is not your fault. Nor is it mine. How could we have known that would happen? Without that being a factor you would have taken him down like it was nothing, and you know it. People fear you. I’ve seen it for myself. That’s because you’re good at what you do.” 

Looking back at you, his voice becomes bitter. “Taking the bounty was reckless and cocky. I should have learned more before jumping into it.” 

“So you make a mistake and suddenly we’re not allowed to be friends anymore?” Now tears are forming in your eyes, fists balled up in your lap. “That’s not fair.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I’m not fit to be your friend.”

“Yes you fucking are.” 

Crawling from the cot and onto the floor, you’re sitting on your knees right in front of him. Close enough to touch. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, and his silence pisses you off. Angrily shoving at his beskar covered chest, a tear escapes from your left eye and runs down your cheek. He doesn’t budge, continuing to watch you closely.

Letting out a guttural noise of frustration, your brow swoops down to narrow at him. “I killed that guy to protect the little one we both love dearly. I also killed him to protect you. You are my friend. In fact, you’re the best friend I’ve had in a very long time. I am not going to give up on that because this happened, and if you did it would kind of break my heart.”

Silence befalls you both. The Mandalorian’s movements are slow and precise as he crawls forward and turns to lean his back against the wall, grabbing you around the waist to pull you to him. You’re suddenly seated between his legs with your back pressed to his body, warm in spite of the beskar. Arms still circled around your waist, he slowly takes both of his gloves off. The skin beneath reveals itself to you, breath hitching in your throat when the fingers of his right hand come to intertwine with those of your left. Your body melts into his and you feel like you could stay this way for hours.

“I’ve killed many people in my life in order to protect others. This is The Way,” he says after a moment, “but you are not Mandalorian. You have not been trained to fight like I have. To process what it means to kill another living being. I should have never put you in this position.” Leaning his head down to rest on top of yours a little, his beskar helmet is pressing into you. The metal feels even harder against your head now that there’s less hair to cushion it.

You grip his hand, tracing small circles into his tan skin with your thumb as you press back into the helmet gently. “But even still, I do not and will never regret my choice to save the kid. This is definitely going to fuck me up for a while but it’s my responsibility to heal from it, no one else’s. Something like this could have happened without your involvement, so please hear me when I say that I am never going to blame you for this. Life can be ugly sometimes, but the ones we care about are what make the ugly moments more bearable.”

“As foundlings we are taught that protecting our fellow Mandalorians at all costs is essential to our way of life,” Mando begins to explain, “Our creed dictates that loyalty, solidarity, and keeping one’s word are all traits of a true Mandalorian warrior. Today you wore the traits of a Mandalorian and you wore them well. You may not be one of my kind, but I believe you have the heart of a Mandalorian. There is a warrior somewhere within you.”

At first you don’t really process how significant what he just said really is, and then it hits you. Your mouth falls open as you blink a few times. “Wow. Thank you. That’s probably the best compliment I could ever receive from you, Mando.”

Words taper off for a few minutes, the two of you holding each other on the floor of the ship you both consider to be home. Then the stillness is broken when the Mandalorian suddenly speaks again, voice a low hum within his armor-plated chest.

“Din,” he whispers in your ear, arms tightening around you considerably as he says it. 

Leaning your head to rest on his shoulder, you look up at him and whisper back, “Is that Mando’a for something?” 

“It is my name,” he breathes, “Din Djarin.”

Your heart is both heavy and full at the same time, chest swelling with more emotion for him than you can really process in such a weakened state. “Din,” you repeat quietly as a sleepy little smile spreads across your face. “It’s handsome, and it fits you so well.”

“Only others of my kind or those I trust completely know my true name.” Din’s baritone voice sounds so much more lovely to you now that you have a real name to put to it, to the man who has slowly been bewitching you for weeks on end.

You want to say it a million times, adoring the way it rolls off of your tongue. “I understand. Thank you for trusting me, Din.”

“Thank you for saving us,” he responds, “I am in your debt.”

“Just save my ass next time the occasion calls for it and we’ll be even,” you laugh a little, then when the ugly memory runs through your mind again you grimace. “Ugh, I feel like shit. The guilt is eating me up inside and its making my head hurt.”

“I know,” Din says soothingly. “When we get to Nevarro I’ll get a room with a real bed for a few days. You need proper rest.”

As he says this, the child’s pram opens up and his little green head pokes out. He looks just as exhausted as you probably do and how you assume Din also looks under the beskar. Slowly, the kid climbs out of the pod to come join his humans. Little legs carry him to the two of you, noises of discomfort leaving him as he does so.

When the kid climbs into your lap and nestles into your stomach, you run your free hand over his small head while still squeezing Din’s fingers with the other. Din’s free hand moves to his foster son, a three-clawed green hand wrapping around Din’s thumb as the kid holds him back.

You sigh, “All three of us need proper rest, Din.” 

“Mm,” he agrees with a hum. Then a slap-happy, giddily little laugh erupts from you, causing Din’s chest to rumble beneath you. “What is it?”

A loopy grin spread across your face, you snuggle into his beskar covered shoulder more as you cradle the child. “I just can’t believe I know your real name. I love saying it.”

“I love hearing it said in your beautiful voice.” Din nuzzles his metal covered head into you. “I’m sorry that I considered leaving you on Nevarro. Fear poisoned my thinking.”

“I forgive you,” you accept his apology, “and I’m afraid too, if it makes you feel any better. All of this scares the hell out of me.”

Without much forethought, you pull his hand up towards your face and press your lips to his knuckles. Din makes an indistinguishable but attractive sounding noise, and you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself for causing it’s occurrence. 

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

@luc-k-y | @theslytherinwriter | @somewereinthegalaxi

[awkward-halfhug]

to soften rough edges | gally x oc

summary: Subject B10 Rosalind Franklin (Frankie) was supposed to be sent to Group B. Due to a mixup by an incompetent WICKED employee, she was sent to Group A, the all-boys maze. How will her unexpected appearance affect the variables, the Glade, and the lives of everyone in it? For one Glader in particular, Frankie might be changing, not only his present, but his entire life going forward. And not because he can't get her to stop following him around like a baby duck....Well, not only

(also on my ao3)

chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

1.8k

"gap-tooth smiles and flirty cooks"

Newt had left them shortly upon setting the girl up with her hammock, claiming he needed to check on Alby. The she-bean thanked him quietly and he nodded to her. Newt passed Gally by with a klunk-eating grin and a tip of his imaginary hat. Slinthead.

"So what do all those words mean?" The greenie sat on her hammock and kicked her legs back and forth.

"What words?"

"The ones you guys kept saying. Greenie, she-bean, shank, shuck, slinthead? What do they mean?"

"Oh. They're just words we made up. Kinda like slang, I guess. Greenie is what we call the new arrivals that come up in the box, like you. She-bean they just made up because you're a girl. First one to come here. And the rest are sort of curse words. Calling someone a shank is like calling them a punk. A slinthead is like a jerk or an idiot. I don't know how to explain shuck, but it's derogatory." Gally scratched the back of his neck. He was glad he didn't have to explain klunk to her.

"Oh, okay. I think I get it." She nodded, then her eyebrows scrunched up. "Wait, the first one to come here? Do you mean...do you mean there's no other girls here but me? It's just boys? Me and boys? Those boys I just saw back there? Is that what you're saying?" Her eyes were wide again. She looked panicked.

"Calm down, greenie." Gally felt like sighing. He had a feeling he'd be saying that a lot, at least for the first few days. He wasn't used to mollycoddling the greenies so he didn't really know what else to say. But he could imagine this would be hard for her, being a girl. It's hard for all of them. Usually he doesn't care so much, but for some reason today he just couldn't bear the fear on this greenie's face.

"Yeah, you're the only girl. But like I told you in the box, they're not that bad. They wouldn't hurt you."

Well...he actually didn't know that for sure. None of these shanks had ever seen a girl before, nevermind live with one day in and day out. He couldn't exactly predict how each and every guy in a group of around 40 would react. How they'd look at her, act towards her.

Gally paused, considering. He'd been so busy with the crates and calming her down he hadn't had the chance to really look at her. In the light of day, with the sun filtering through the trees above them, he could see her clearly.

Her eyes were a dark grey, and they were expressive. Her hair was the color of those walnuts the Creators had sent up last month. It contrasted with her almost-too-pale skin perfectly. She wasn't small, but all her edges were soft and delicate-looking. Her face was rounded slightly, her shoulders, her arms, everything about her looked soft.  Gally felt like groaning to himself but held it in. This might be a problem. She was pretty.

"Even if anyone tried," he amended his statement, "I'd..." Gally cleared his throat. "I'd protect you, remember? So don't worry about it."

Gally had no idea why he had promised her that. That's not something he goes around doing, protecting people. In the Glade, they all had to toughen up fast or they could get themselves killed. Maybe it was because she was a girl? Looking at her in that box, her eyes wide and trying to make herself as small as possible? Something inside him ached in a way he wasn't used to. Before he knew it he was kneeling down to her level and talking all soft and reassuring her.

And what was with her agreeing to trust him so quickly? He knew he'd asked, but he'd expected to have to do at least a little convincing. He wasn't exactly sure what he would've said, but he would've thought of something.

Were all girls like that? Just blindly trusting whoever they come across? He sort of hoped not. He knew she was safe with him, but he couldn't be certain about every shank here. Still, he could admit, it felt good, having that girl's trust. And it made him feel even more protective of her. Which was good, considering he'd already promised to protect her. But like he said, it had him acting weird. 

Newt noticed, because of course he did. The shank couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease him. He didn't get many opportunities, Gally didn't usually give him any. Now he was gonna have a field day, Gally just knew it. And if the other guys found out how he was acting?

Gally had to get this under control. This she-bean had him feeling off-kilter is all. Today had started all weird anyway. Well, actually it had started off good, which was weird. He'd slept well, Frypan's food had tasted even better than usual, and none of these shanks had ticked him off yet. So maybe that's why he'd been acting all weird. Maybe it had nothing to do with the greenie at all.

He'd been too easy on her. Gally wasn't soft, he didn't go easy on the greenies, or anyone for that matter. But especially the greenies. They needed to toughen up. She needed to toughen up, or she wouldn't survive here. No more nice-guy act. He'd protect her from the guys but that was it.

"Gally?" The she-bean said. Looks like she might've been talking to him while he was lost in his thoughts. Great.

"Yeah greenie?" Gally heaved a sigh like he was suddenly put-out just by talking to her.

She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. It fell back in her face. "Thank you. I'd be a lot more scared if it wasn't for you. I'm glad you're here."

Gally had never been glad he was here. Not one second since he woke up in that box years ago had he ever been glad he was here. Ever. But her eyes were shining with gratitude and he felt his chest tighten. For the first time ever, he actually was grateful to be in this shuck place, if only so she could feel less alone. So she could look at him like that.

"Er, right. You're welcome, I guess." He cleared his throat.

She was smiling at him now. A wide smile. She had a dimple in her left cheek, and several of her top teeth had little gaps between them, but somehow she managed to not look like a five-year-old with them. In fact, they just made her look prettier.

He needed to get out of there, now.  He had work to do. His builders needed instructions, he had to finish that table for the homestead, and frypan would be serving lunch soon.

...Did the she-bean need help finding the homestead?

Nope. That was her problem. She could find her own way around this place, same as any other shank.

Frypan was just setting out his pots and pans to get started on lunch when Gally reached the homestead.

"Hey, Fry. What's on the menu?"

Frypan didn't even glance up as he replied. "Nothing yet. Come back at lunchtime and maybe you'll find out then." He resumed his search for ingredients, clearly expecting Gally to take his dismissal for what it was.

Gally cleared his throat. "Alright then. Just thought you'd wanna meet the new Greenie, but if you wanna wait till the bonfire, suit yourself." 

Gally made to leave, and the she-bean made to follow, when Frypan's head snapped up to finally look at them. He dropped the can he was holding with a clatter.

"What? Wait! Hold on, hold on, hold on." In the blink of an eye, Fry had scrambled around the counter, straightened his apron and jut his hand out toward the girl in question.

"Hi there. The name's Siggy, but you can call me Fry. Or Siggy. Or Frypan. Most people call me Frypan. Whatever you want to call me is fine."

"Fry." Gally looked pointedly at the hand that Frypan was still grasping. Frypan flushed and dropped the greenie's hand like it burned.

"Sorry. Just excited I guess." Frypan took a couple steps back to give the poor girl some space. She looked overwhelmed.

"S'okay. It's nice to meet you Fry." She smiled that gap-toothed smile of hers. "Or Siggy. Or Frypan. That's a lot of options, I'm not sure what to call you. Can I call you all of them? Like at different times? Cuz like, sometimes you might seem more like a Siggy and sometimes you might seem more like a Frypan. You know?"

The girl was rambling. It was a little funny to watch, but Gally had a feeling if he didn't step in, she'd be going on for a while. And he really did have things to do.

"Greenie?" Gally cut in. Her head whipped around to face him with lightning speed. The sudden image of a puppy popped into his head, and he had to stifle laugh or risk explaining it.

"Yeah, Gally?"

Gally felt a smile tug at his lips at how she said his name. Technically, it was the same way the guys would say it, but from her it sounded different somehow. Better. Which was ridiculous, obviously. Gally shook that thought out of his head as well.

"We better leave Frypan to his duties. He doesn't like it when us shanks pester him for food when it's not mealtime. Isn't that right, Fry?" Gally raised his eyebrows at Frypan.

Frypan was already shaking his head in denial before Gally had finished speaking. "Don't listen to him babygirl. Kitchen's always open for you. Any time, day or night, you just say the word and Fry's got you covered. Now what are you hungry for?"

The greenie was beaming at Frypan and peppering him with words of gratitude and he was lapping it up. Gally's appetite was dwindling by the second.

Gally tuned out as Frypan started listing food options to the girl. Wasn't he supposed to be letting her figure her way around this place herself? Wasn't that the plan?

He could leave her here with Frypan. Gally knew Fry wouldn't do anything to hurt her. And Fry clearly wouldn't mind. Gally rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Babygirl? What was that Fry? His friend had some explaining to do when they were alone.

Regardless, she was safe here. Gally wasn't all that hungry anymore, and he had a table to build.

"Gally, what do you think?" The bubbly voice broke into his thoughts. He didn't have an answer for her though, because he wasn't listening.

"About what?"

"Sandwiches or stew?" She looked up at him with expectant eyes, like this was a weighty decision and his opinion would be an important deciding factor.

"Uh, sandwiches I guess."

The girl nodded seriously and turned to Fry to submit their lunch requests. She looked back at Gally and smiled.

Gally sat down to eat.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging, it means a lot ♡

[rowanisawriter]

For Petra x Cullen

From Black Company:

“Care to illuminate what just happened?”

“No.”

Plus

"A vial of lyrium, one drop remains" from artifacts of Thedas

Plus

"A hand mirror, its glass irreparably shattered" from Artifacts of Thedas

hiiiii lucky thank you! i accidentally wrote something very angsty because i love pain and misery and i also love writing and rewriting cullen’s struggle with lyrium….

for @dadrunkwriting

wc: 570

tw: whumppppp

She can smell it before she enters his tower. Sharp, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It faintly burns in the back of her throat. When she knocks on his door, she gives him a few moments after his quiet, “Come in,” before she enters, closing the door softly behind her.

Immediately, she regrets closing the door. The hole in the roof of his tower can only filter out so much of the unmistakable smell of Lyrium. It seems to sink into the ground instead of rise up as air should, sitting heavy under her nose, building up in her brain. The vial has rolled to a stop at the foot of his desk, a single, shimmering drop left clinging to the glass. The rest of the kit is strewn around the room, and the little statue of Andraste has broken clean off the inside of the kit and lays, slightly dented, face up by the bookcase.

Petra swallows and feels a thrum of energy pulse down her spine, as if she’s tasted the Lyrium that seems to hover in the air between them. Cullen doesn’t look at her. He has one hand clutching the back of his chair in a white knuckled grip. There’s a pallor to his skin, a pasty, sweaty feeling about him. Under the acrid tinge of ozone in the air, she can almost smell his fear.

“You missed the council meeting today,” she says. She keeps her voice light.

“Wasn’t feeling well,” he replies. His voice is just as light. Something shifts on his desk as he moves his weight from one foot to the other. A scattering of light on the wall behind him, cutting into the slit in the stone that he calls a window.

“Right. In that case, you should be resting, instead of…” she trails, gesturing vaguely at the stacks of books and paperwork and propped open maps on the surface of his desk.

“I’m fine, Petra.” A hint of impatience colors his tone. He moves again and the light behind him scatters. A reflection. A mirror?

She attempts a step closer. When her knees don’t knock together, she takes another step. Her eyes are drawn again to the vial on the ground. It’s a moment before she realizes the vial isn’t spilled, there’s no puddle of Lyrium around it. It’s emptied.

He clears his throat. Her eyes are pulled away from the vial, from the implications, and up to meet his gaze. She’s close enough to the desk now to see the spilled ink, still pooling on a stack of unopened letters, the broken quills, the hand mirror shattered so completely that the wood behind the glass has been irreparably damaged. She blinks down at the mess, trying to maintain the cool expression on her face as her heart pounds and the burn of Lyrium in the back of her throat mixes with the burn of tears.

“Care to illuminate what just happened?” she asks in carefully measured tones.

His eyes flash as they meet hers. Something in the too white skin, the dark, heavy circles around his eyes, the taste of Lyrium in the air makes her feel as though she’s back in the Circle. A lightness flutters in her legs suddenly. She could run and keep running if she had to. She doesn’t want to, but she could.

His voice is like a whip, snapped taut.

“No.”

[something-tofightfor]

Hi happy weekend writing palooza!! I hope it’s relaxing and productive and that you enjoy your time to yourself!!

I’d LOVE to see what you do with Ezra & campfire… (and if you snuck spooky or fear in there I would not be mad.)

Alyssa, thank you. I have missed these two a TON. And even though I don't know if this means I'm going to jump back into their story anytime soon, there's no one that championed this pair more than you did - so it only felt right to come back to them now.

This might not be the kind of fear you were hoping for, but ...

This is in my Starlight-verse, but it can be read without knowing much of anything about them, because it's just Ezra thinking.

WC: 918

He wasn’t afraid of the dark. 

In fact, Ezra wasn’t afraid of much - at least under normal circumstances. 

He’d seen and done things that regular people couldn’t ever have imagined, found himself in situations that would have been life-shattering for most of the people that he’d come into contact with both surface-bound and out in The Fringe.

But he’d always gotten through them almost unscathed, the man using his wits and charm to come out creamy in just about every way he could imagine. But this one is different. This one is … probably not going to end as well for me. 

He shuffled closer to the small campfire, his arms crossed over his chest. 

He wanted to get closer - and probably could have. His suit was fireproof, meant to withstand the harshest conditions on any moon or planet. His helmet was securely in place, ensuring that the air that flowed in through the filter - though slightly tinged with the scent and taste of smoke - was still breathable. And he was cold, the chilly night air of The Green Moon replacing the heat of the day that only a few hours earlier had caused him to sweat profusely. 

But if I move closer, I might lose track of time. And if I lose track of time … He sighed, eyes squeezed shut. “If I lose track of time, there is a chance I will fall asleep.” And if I fall asleep out here… Ezra shook his head back and forth, his eyes scanning the endless darkness past the warmth of the firelight. “Well that might just result in an unfortunate end to my tale.” 

He stopped speaking and glanced back at the small tent behind him - the monster of a man that was his only companion sound asleep within the confines of the zippered panels. It was an uneasy truce between them, and had been for a few cycles. 

But Ezra still wouldn’t say that he was afraid of the larger man, because they needed each other - and both of them knew it. 

No, what Ezra was afraid of was the silence that filled the air at night as he sat watch near the fire. 

It was the loneliness he felt inside of his tent during the few hours of rest he allowed himself each night as the moon rotated enough so that the looming presence of Bakhroma slipped past the horizon and darkened the sky. 

He feared succumbing to the growing belief in his mind that because he’d been foolish enough to want better for the two of you, it would cost him the ability to return home alive like he’d promised. 

And those things are much more frightening than anything that might wait in the shadows like a skulking Tholothian. 

But there weren’t animals on The Green. The only living creatures that weren’t plant life were people like him - Drifters and prospectors and mercenaries. Although that’s not always what I was. 

Ezra lifted a hand from his lap and pressed a gloved palm to the left side of his chest, eyes squeezed shut and his long lashes resting on the fullest parts of his cheeks.

He carried a picture of you with him - tucked safely into an interior zippered pocket of his suit and protected from not only the unforgiving elements of the Green but from his fingers, too, aside from when it was truly safe to hold it. 

But he didn’t need to see the picture to see you. 

Your image was seared into his memory brightly enough to rival the shine of the stars in the sky, and as he glanced up and toward them, he actually cracked a small smile. I wonder if you know when I think of you, Starlight. I wonder if you can feel it. 

Returning his attention to the fire in front of him, the flames lower than they had been only a few minutes earlier, Ezra released a deep breath and then frowned, dropping his hand once again. 

“I promised you I would return home.” He spoke to the stars, the sound of his voice muffled by his hood and the glass of his facemask. “And I intend to do what I can to keep that promise, but …” Trailing off, Ezra wet his lips, the surface of them chapped and rough. “It may soon be out of my hands.” 

There was no answer - and no other sound, aside from the quiet crackling of the fire and an almost constant breeze from the direction of the water. 

The quiet unnerved him, because it meant that he had more time alone with his thoughts. 

And if there was one thing that terrified Ezra, it was the thought that in order to keep his promise to you, he would need to embrace the silence and the loneliness and the things in his mind that he’d struggled to keep at bay in his time away from you while on The Green. That he’d need to let the parts of himself that he’d long since buried come back to the surface. 

But… He leaned forward, finally holding his hands out and toward the fire, letting himself imagine for a few moments that he could feel the warmth on his skin. But if that’s what is necessary to get me home to you… Eyes rising from the flames and toward the starlit sky, his gaze in the general direction of the place you called home, Ezra nodded. Then it’s what needs to happen.