#it has like. one line that mentions a lover. n that's the connection to the other coa6 fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatdammchickennugget · 6 months

Note

hello💕could you write a little something with this enzo edit about a bookworm!reader who has caught enzo’s eye? assuming he’s not a reader but wants to impress 🤣 love you!

Reading Between The Lines

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

warnings - fluff, kinda shy enzo I guess, bookworm!reader, one mention of y/n

a/n - my love 💕 I have been thinking about this since I saw your edit for the first time. love you!!!

wordcount - 1.7k

part one - part two

The Hogwarts library was a sanctuary for you, a haven of quiet amidst the chaos of school life. Surrounded by towering bookshelves and the scent of old parchment, you felt at home among the rows of dusty tomes and well-worn novels.

You were always lost in the pages of a book, your nose buried in its contents as you devoured story after story. It was your escape, your solace, your one true passion in life.

And it was in the library that Lorenzo Berkshire found himself drawn to you, captivated by the way your eyes sparkled with excitement as you pored over the pages of a book. He admired your quiet confidence, your unassuming beauty, your love for literature.

Enzo wasn't much of a reader himself, but he found himself spending more and more time in the library, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He would watch from a distance as you returned books to their rightful places, a shy smile playing at the corners of his lips.

And then, when you weren't looking, he would sneak over to the shelves and scan the titles of the books you had returned, committing them to memory. He hoped that by borrowing the same books, he could strike up a conversation with you, impress you with his knowledge of literature and your shared taste in stories.

But it wasn't easy for him. He struggled to find the same passion for reading that you possessed, often finding himself bored or distracted by the words on the page. But he persevered, determined to win your affections, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone.

As he flipped through the pages of the latest book he had borrowed, the text on the back of the book having promised a thrilling romance between star-crossed lovers in a fantasy realm, Enzo couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. He longed to connect with you, to share in the joy you found in reading, but it seemed like an impossible task.

But then, as he turned a particularly dog-eared page, he came across a passage that made him pause. It was a passage about love, about longing, about the ache of unrequited affection. And in that moment, Enzo realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so different from the characters in the books you loved so much.

With a curious furrow in his brow, he carefully examined the dog-eared page, wondering if perhaps you had left it as a deliberate sign. Maybe, it was your subtle way of sending him a hint—a hint that you felt the same way he did.

As he pondered the possibility, his heart skipped a beat. Could it be that you were trying to tell him something? The thought filled him with a rush of excitement, igniting a flicker of hope within his chest.

But before he could dwell on it further, his attention was drawn to something tucked between the pages. With trembling fingers, Enzo reached for the small slip of parchment, his pulse quickening with anticipation.

As he unfolded the note, his eyes widened in surprise, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. The delicate script danced across the parchment, revealing your words:

‘Caught you sneaking glances, Berkshire. Don't worry, I don't mind. Maybe we can talk about books sometime? I'd love to hear your thoughts on the ones you've been borrowing. – Y/n’

Enzo felt a mixture of emotions wash over him—embarrassment, surprise, but above all, a strange sense of relief. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing that you were aware of his attempts to get your attention.

But as he continued to read the note over and over, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There was a warmth to your words, a kindness that eased the embarrassment he felt.

With a newfound sense of determination, Enzo folded the note and tucked it into his pocket, his mind racing with possibilities. Maybe he didn't need to impress you by matching your passion for literature. Maybe all he needed to do was be himself.

The next day, he found himself back in the library, the note from you burning a hole in his pocket. He couldn't shake the nervous excitement coursing through him as he went to return the borrowed book, his eyes darting around in search of you.

And there you were, nestled in the back corner of the library, a book in hand and a serene expression on your face. Enzo's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, and with a deep breath, he made his way over to where you sat.

"Hey," he said softly as he approached, internally cringing at the way his voice was tinged with nervousness.

You looked up from your book, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you met his gaze. "Hey, Enzo. What brings you here?"

Enzo shifted nervously, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. "I, uh, just wanted to return this," he said, holding up the book he had borrowed the day before. "And, um, maybe take you up on your offer to talk about books?"

Your smile widened, and you gestured for him to take a seat beside you. "I'd like that," you said, patting the empty space next to you. "So, what did you think of this one?"

Enzo hesitated for a moment, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Honestly? I didn’t finish it," he admitted sheepishly. "But I, uh, I really liked the parts I did read."

To his relief, you laughed softly, a musical sound that filled the air with warmth. "That's okay," you said reassuringly. "We can talk about it whenever you're ready. Or we can talk about something else. It's up to you."

As you spoke, Enzo felt a wave of relief wash over him. Your easygoing nature and understanding demeanor helped to quell the nervous flutter in his chest. He settled into the seat beside you, feeling more at ease than he had in days.

"Thanks," he said, offering you a grateful smile. "I appreciate it. And, uh, I'd love to hear what you think about the books you've been reading too."

Your smile widened, and you leaned in closer, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'd love to tell you about them," you said eagerly. "I've been reading this really interesting series about magical creatures. Have you heard of it?"

Enzo shook his head, feeling a pang of embarrassment at his lack of knowledge. "No, I haven't," he admitted sheepishly. "But it sounds intriguing. Maybe you could lend me the first one sometime?"

To his surprise, you nodded eagerly. "Of course," you said, reaching into your bag to pull out the book in question. "Here you go. Let me know what you think."

Enzo accepted the book with a grateful smile, feeling a rush of warmth at your generosity. As he flipped through the pages and you easily continued your conversation, the hours seemed to fly by unnoticed. The library around you faded into the background as you delved deeper into discussion, sharing thoughts and opinions on various books and topics. Enzo found himself hanging on your every word, captivated by your intellect and passion. He didn’t even feel bad about not adding much to the conversation, completely satisfied with listening to you ramble about something you were clearly so passionate about.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the library windows, Enzo realized that he didn't want the day to end. He wanted to spend more time with you, to explore the depths of your mind and get to know you even better.

Summoning his courage, he cleared his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, um," he began, his voice slightly shaky with nerves. "I was wondering if, uh, maybe you'd like to go out with me sometime? You know, like on a date?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, a soft blush creeping into your cheeks. "Oh," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I, um, I'd like that, Enzo. I'd really like that."

Relief washed over him and he leaned into your space a little closer without even realizing it. "Really? You would?" he asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

You nodded, a unfamiliarly shy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah," you said, your voice filled with warmth. "I'd love to go out with you."

Enzo's heart soared at your words. He couldn't believe his luck, couldn't believe that someone as amazing as you would want to go on a date with him. And even more, he couldn’t believe that his little stunt, the one his friends had said was lowkey stalking, had worked.

"Great!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Um, how about this Saturday? We could go to Hogsmeade together, maybe grab a butterbeer or something?"

You nodded eagerly, a sparkle of anticipation in your eyes. "That sounds perfect, Enzo. And then we can go to Tomes and Scrolls and pick out a book you’ll actually enjoy. Maybe we could read it together?"

"I'd love that," he replied, a broad smile spreading across his face. "It sounds like the perfect date."

The warmth of your smile matched his own as you agreed, and for a moment, everything felt right in the world. As the two of you continued to chat, the library slowly emptied out around you, leaving just the two of you in the cozy solitude of the reading room. Time seemed to stand still as he watched you read your book.

Eventually, the librarian announced that the library would be closing soon, breaking the spell of the moment. Reluctantly, Enzo and you gathered your things and made your way to the exit.

Outside, the castle hallways were bathed in the soft light of dusk, casting a golden glow over everything it touched. The dopey smile didn’t want to leave his face he walked beside you, his heart filled with anticipation for the weekend.

As you reached the entrance to your common room, Enzo turned to face you, a little sad to let you go for the night. "So, I'll see you on Saturday, then?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

You nodded, smiling up at him. "I can't wait," you replied. "It's a date."

Enzo Taglist - @slytherinboysappreciation @urmomsgirlfriend1 @starsval @gillyweeds @sir-elian @harryslittlebitch @gayforyelena @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ravenclawprincess33 @sbrn0905 @helpimhopelesslyinlove @Yhiiil @themarauderswife7 @moonlightreader649 @ihatemyexs @chgrch @nat1221 @thestarlithideout @iamaslytherin0 @bath1lda @ohmaigwad @pinkposttragedy @allshitsangiggles @hoeforvinniehackerrr @mildly-delulu @h3artz4soph @sunasbbie @marsbars09 @vcosette @meepycheep @aglady13 @rinalouu @floswife @ariensversion @agent-tempest @s0urw00lf @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @pinkestfloyd @xlinxdax0704 @chulabeans @l0v3do11 @unstablereader @acourtoflostandwanderingstars @catiwinky @wolfstar-marvelsfan @captainstanksblog @istill-dream-ofyou @pinktreee @ceehance @lizhub @theadventuresofanartist @iamgayforyourmom1501 @feistyfox47 @nat1221 @i-think-you-are-gr8 @cas-planet @csmt_m @selyselyselyse @mrsriddles-blog @the-sylver-dragon @poppysrin @camille-1019 @laniirackssss @slvtfortheo @chosenoneslver @txzii

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#enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #harry potter #slytherin boys #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mari writes

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noveauskull · 3 months

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Hello, how are you? if you still have your requests open can you write an angsty One-shot for Geshu Lin? I know there's barely any backstory about him in the game, but I wanted to know if you could write a one-shot where he had a partner (reader) who was a soldier. Amidst a battle, while searching for his partner among the fallen soldiers, he finds them critically wounded, on the verge of death, and he desperately tries to make them react and tries to take them to a field medic, but his partner ends up dying in his arms after saying "I'm sorry". I'm not sure if the idea is understandable, and if you write angst, I really adore the character, and there's very little content about Geshu Lin, and I'm a lover of angst and I really love your writing and how you write.

"In Another World, We Live Together" (ANGST)

characters: geshu lin x reader

warnings: mentions of death, a bit gore, angst, soldier f! reader

-----

In an atmosphere covered in smoke from burnt wood, you squinted your eyes, feeling it tear up from the toxicity the smoke was releasing.

You were wounded. Well, wounded would be a very kind word to be used at the moment, when really the floor was covered in red at any direction your eyes could glance at.

You could feel your throat being blocked by it's own muscles, as if it was choking itself, but it was cause you were crying. You knew that out of every other day where you got injured, today was different.

Something wasn't right. You wished you could move your neck to see the state of your stomach but you couldn't. Your body just won't listen, and that frustrated you, so much it scared you to.

All you could do was lie down and wait, you were starting to get used to the throbbing pain on your stomach, but the pain was so unbearable you couldn't even pass out, you were stuck.

When you thought you had lost all hope, you hear a familiar voice call out to you as a figure emerged through the smoke, you could only see half of the figure's body before it came closer, letting you realize you knew this man.

General Geshu Lin, your partner.

Your face twisted into an expression full of pain as you cried, hearing Geshu Lin's panicked shouts made you feel relieved, yet at the same time, you were terrified to hear how loud he was, never in your life have you heard him shout this loud.

"Y/N!!!"

You watched him kneel to the ground and hold your body gently, placing your head on his lap as he stared down at you with wide eyes, his complexion seemed pale. Extremely pale.

"Y-Y/n... Y-Your st-stomach" Geshu Lin stuttered, his eyes were locked onto you torso, but you only stared at his face, slowly blinking away your tears to give yourself a good look at your partner.

But out of curiousity, your eyes trailed slowly from the side view of Geshu Lin's face to your stomach, and the sight shocked you to the point you could feel every bone on your body shake in terror.

Your stomach was hollow. So hollow you could see a bit of your rib cage, and all your organs and intestines were missing. Just what did one blow from a tacet discord do to you?

A strong choke escapes your mouth, your eyes widening to the point your eyelids seemed like they took up too much space on your sockets, you instinctively tried moving your legs to kick your body back up, but it was no use, your body had lost all connection within each other.

"N-No...I-I won't let this happen to you..." Geshu Lin was in a state of panic, and you could see it as clear as day, his behavior didn't help you one bit at all, yet you couldn't blame him.

It seemed...like your life has been cut short.

You watched as Geshu Lin's wounded body forced you up, carrying you in a bridal position, and carefully making sure you didn't lose anything more, as you hear him mumble to you.

"I-It's okay, I-It's okay y/n...Y-you're gonna b-be fine..."

He kept chanting to you, you hadn't notice that he was running so fast, all you could do was look at his face, your eyes tracing every single line that he had, almost like how an artist would sketch out a drawing.

You knew it was too late for you, so you used your final moments to burn General Geshu Lin's face into your mind, one last time.

"W-We'll get you to a g-good doctor, a-and you'll be all fixed, o-okay?"

Geshu Lin didn't even look down at you, he kept his eyes locked in front of him, even if his arms and legs were going numb he never let you even slip for a moment, all his mind was focused on is getting you help.

"I-I'm sorry..." You croaked. Finally mustering up your energy to say something to catch Geshu Lin's attention.

"W-What are you apologizing for?" He finally looked down at you, but your eyes were lifeless.

Geshu Lin stopped his tracks to look down at you, tears drenching his cheeks, without realising his legs gave out on him, and he was now kneeling on the concrete floor, his pupils rapidly shaking to the point his vision went blurry.

He couldn't even let out a scream. All he wanted to do right now was remain silent, in order to not miss hearing your voice again, that you would wake up from being unconcious and he could continue to bring you to the medics.

But in the back of his mind, he knew.

He knew you weren't there anymore with him.

And he didn't want to accept it.

He couldn't.

He won't

-----

A/N: ANGST??? ME??? WRITING??? I can't believe this. I wrote angst. In like... A LONG TIME.

I struggled to finish this cause i got so serious in wanting to make this sad as possible, but i dont got that dog in me to fulfil that energy so this is the final result 😮‍💨😮‍💨

ty for the request thoo!! ✨️✨️

#wuthering waves #wuwa #wuwa geshu lin #wuthering waves geshu lin #geshu lin #geshu lin x reader #wuthering waves x y/n #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader #answeredbyskull #noveauskull

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞. | TEASER

There's magic in everything.

Tags/Warnings: Royal Warlock!Jungkook, Maid!Cat Hybrid!Reader, Magic!AU, realistic Fantasy, sci-fi, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, Romance, Angst, mentions of war, Injury, Violence and blood, Smut

Length: ???

There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Patreon-Exclusive.

A/N: due to fantasy stories never doing very well here on tumblr, Exhale will be posted on Patreon only. I've also lost my job, so currently, Patreon is one of the only ways to make money right now. Please understand that I'm gonna advertise it more often due to that. Thank you for your understanding.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"You'll feel at home soon, Sir Jungkook." You say as you place the plate of his food in front of him, his dark eyes looking up at you.

They don't scare you. Neither does the fact that he draws his powers from.. well, not the light. He's shown by now that he still has a kind heart, even if it's a bit hidden and cluttered with other things he deems more important. "I do not need to feel welcome here." He denies, starts to eat quietly, averting his gaze from you.

"Sure, you do not." You respond, turning around to wash the other's dishes in the sink. Jungkook's eyes raise at that, focusing on the way your tail sways from side to side softly.

Your dress looks a lot more.. tailored to you, than he's used to see on maids. In fact, everyone appears to be dressed in clean, and well made clothes that still fit their status and job- but don't appear to be simply given from one to the next. Kim Seokjin knows every staff's name in fact, and does not seem to really draw a line in who he speaks to and who he does not.

Odd.

"But doesn't it feel better?" You ask, singing to yourself as you wash the plates.

Jungkook doesn't respond, simply thinks. He doesn't have to feel at home here. Once King Seokjin doesn't have any use for him any longer, he will be sent out once more. The less connections he makes here, the less he will be driven away from his path. He doesn't need friends, or a home.

He's learned that many times in his life. It'll only hurt.

"How long have you been working here?" Jungkook asks as he rips off a piece of bread to eat. You dry your hands, and sit at the table with him, stretching out your legs beneath if for a moment.

"Hm.. I was living here since Jin-.. King Seokjin was still a prince, Sir." You answer. "I was born in the nearby forest village. My mother became a maid when I was old enough to attend school." You remember.

"Explains your lack of respect for him in your tone." Jungkook says, not looking at you. You stiffen, ears pinning backwards.

"Ah- but I do have respect!" You almost whine. "It's just.. his crowning was years ago, I know. But.. on occasion, I forget the boundaries set by society." You sigh, leaning your chin on your hand. "Any other kingdom would've already had me beheaded." You giggle to yourself.

"Or at least exiled." He mumbles, biting another piece of bread.

It's good that you seem to be aware of the luxury you're experiencing inside this castle. As a mere hybrid maid, you're not much more in status than a dog- and yet, for some odd reasoning, the King himself treats you as much more, just like the other staff. The way he'd spoken to Jungkook, with such familiarity almost, had shown just how soft the King really is. He truly is in need of protection. God knows he probably has not fought a single time in his life.

Just as his food is finished, Jungkook notices your other hand that's not supporting your head. There's something on your palm he's not sure of, but the skin is clearly irritated. He motions for you to turn it over, and you do- scratches having reopened from washing the dishes earlier.

Either you're very dumb, or just very devoted to your purpose in this castle.

He's slow with his movements to give you a way to deny him- but you do not, instead even leaning forward a bit in curiosity to see what he's going to do, as he covers your hand in his own, silver rings bulky on his fingers. There's no glow, or anything really- not much is happening at all, apart from the tingling feeling underneath your skin, stinging from the cuts slowly ebbing away like it's dipped in cold water.

And when he removes his hands, your palm is covered in what looks like black soot almost.. but once you brush that off, the skin is healed- no scars remaining.

"Oh! There you guys are." Yoongi offers, walking closer into the kitchen, a hand on your shoulder as he stands behind you. "The king requests you, Jungkook. " He tells the warlock, who still feels oddly irritated by the man's lack of proper wording regarding him. "And you should clean up. It's late." He says much softer to you, and you nod.

"Look! sir Jungkook healed me!" You hold out your hand, and Yoongi clearly grows irritated, frustration clear on his face.

This is what Jungkook is used to. The anger, distaste, disgust even regarding his practices- this is what's comforting to him. He can work with that, knows that people like this man will not get unnecessarily attached to him and cause problems. He likes that-

"Yah, where'd you even get hurt again?!" Yoongi scolds you instead, however. "Be glad Jin didn't see, or he'd make you report to him daily again.. show me. Is it really healed.?" He mumbles, inspecting your hand, before he shakes his head at you, ears pinned back. "Thank you. She sometimes has the coordination of a dragon hatchling." He says towards Jungkook, and he's caught entirely off guard, eyes wide open and face clearly showing his surprise.

And you just laugh at that, happily so, before you tell him goodnight with a playful bow, running off after teasingly thanking Yoongi for washing Jungkook's dishes.

Which, yet again irritatingly enough, Yoongi indeed does do for you.

This castle is weird.

But fitting for its king, he thinks.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic

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writtensweethearts · 3 months

Text

Something More

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader Word count: 2k+ CW: Misunderstandings, friends to lovers, Eddie being his lovely self A/N: Not my best work but I hope it makes you smile Also Thank you for all the love on my first post, xoxo

Steve has been your friend as long as you could remember.

The years have been kind, gifting you with memories you’d soon come to agonize over, memories you’d learn to feel such fondness over, it left you dizzy. Late nights rotting in bed, laughing over melted ice cream, Steve was summer. He was the distant smell of campfires, tanned and freckled skin. He was road trips and movie nights and so distinctly him, a place of comfort, a constant in your life. He was the anchor during your first heartbreak, the shelter you sought after nightmares, the soft reassurance during the aftermath of witnessing the Upside Down. He never changed, never outgrew you, never once stopped prioritizing you even when faced with the snarky remarks of his peers in high school. Steve has been your friend, your best friend, for more years than you can count.

But you can’t remember exactly when you stopped seeing him as one.

Maybe it was the summer after freshman year, when he’d slowly grown taller right before your eyes. Limbs growing lanky only to be filled out with sharp lines and taught muscle by the end of senior year, when you couldn’t recall exactly when he’d changed so much. Or maybe it was the whispers in the hallways of Hawkin High, classmates speculating that the two of you held something more. Or maybe it was right now.

“Hey, do you remember Cassidy Davis?”

Your elbows sink into the mattress of Steve’s bed as you push yourself upward, angling your body to face him as he stands over the sink of the connected bathroom.

“From highschool? I think so, blonde right?”

He hums in response, reaching over to grab the razor resting on the counter top. You always loved moments like this, the domesticity of it all, the quiet, intimate moments where you could pretend that this was all that mattered. You and Steve.

“She stopped by Family Video today during my shift.”

You frown at that, head turning away in hopes he wouldn’t catch your reaction from the reflection.

“Huh. Did you talk to her?”

He nods, eyes fixated as he glides the blade against his jaw, “Yeah. She was eyeing Dawn of the Dead and I mentioned Eddie’s obsession with it.”

Your lips twitch upwards at that, for all the wry comments made between the two boys it was endearing to see the light cracks in the facade.

“So I told her what he told me, and she seemed interested enough to check it out by the end of it,” He paused, eyes flickering over to you. You watch as his throat bobs, before he turns his attention back to his own reflection. Curious, you waited, watching as he rinsed the remaining shaving gel off his face.

“I asked her to dinner.”

Oh. Oh.

“Or well- She asked me if I wanted to watch Dawn of the Dead with her, and I didn’t want to tell her no, so.. It just kind of happened.”

He walks over to you, knees hitting the ends of the bed frame.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

You stare at him, brows furrowed.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?”

He seems a bit puzzled at that, hands reaching up, nervously tugging the back of his sleep ruffled hair.

“No I just, I just meant if you don’t like her it’s important to me. I won’t go out with someone you can’t stand.”

“Steve, how I feel shouldn’t matter. If you like Cassidy you should go for it.” He looks at you warily so you add, “I barely remember her. I think I had calculus with her but we never talked. I promise I don’t have any negative feelings.” He returns your response with a small smile, leaning forward to press a light kiss onto your temple, leaving the skin warm and tingly and your chest tight.

The date hadn’t gone as hoped. Guilt gnawed at you as you watched Steve return, head high yet ego bruised. Though he’d seemingly taken the failed night in stride, you felt uneasy with the relief you’d felt as he told you about his evening.

Things began to change after that. As the months went by Steve continued spending time with girls he’d met. Movies at the drive in, picnics at the park, pool days in his backyard.

The unfamiliar feeling of wanting more made everything unbearable.

“And so Robin was telling Janice that no way is David Bowie the best musician of all time-” The distant ringing in the hallway cuts him short.

“Hold on, sorry.” Steve watches as you untangle your legs from his, the lost warmth of your calves leaving goosebumps in its wake, his thighs missing the pressure of your weight. You’re off the couch in seconds, high speeding to the landline attached to the wall of your hallway, in hopes to catch the call before it ends. He could hear your voice through the echoes of your empty home.

“Hello?” He leans forward in an effort to figure out who the person on the other end is. It’s too far for him to recognize the voice, but his ears perk at the sound of your laughter and a quiet promise of seeing the mystery caller soon. You return, nudging his legs to the side as you take your place back onto the comforter, pointedly ignoring Steve’s watchful gaze.

A beat passes, “So you planning on telling me who that was?”

“Just a friend.” You keep your head down, fingers picking into your cuticles as you try to act unaffected under his scrutiny.

“Hm. And does this friend have a name?” You chance a look at him, his eyebrows twisted upwards with an expectant look on his face. You sigh, “It’s just Eddie. We’re hanging out tomorrow, he was calling to let me know when he’d be coming around to pick me up.” You're gifted with a surprised look. You grin, “What? I got other friends too, Harrington.”

He doesn’t take the bait.

“What are you doing with Munson?”

You shrug, pulling yourself away to face him properly, “We’re just hanging out. He’s taking me to his trailer to show me his guitar but we didn’t make a full itinerary. Nosy much?” You tease.

His expression remains thoughtful as the conversation ebbs, both of you content in the silence and comfort of each other.

It’s been weeks now since you last saw Steve. You’ve dropped by Family Video a few times only to be greeted by a sympathetic Robin letting you know that no, Steve was not available. You weren’t sure what to do, but by the fourth missed call that week, you’d decided to leave it alone, he’d come around when he was ready.

Restless from the longing in your heart, you tiptoed out your bedroom door, slipping into the night. Eddie’s trailer was a short walk away, a new found solace, the evening breeze cooling your warm skin. You’d wondered on your way whether you’d made the right decision, unsure if an unwarranted visit at late hours would cross a boundary in your new friendship. But you were lonely, sick of the quietness of the dark, embarrased at the radio silence from your best friend.

You eye the dim light of the trailer, the faint noise of Eddie tuning his guitar. Taking a breath you knock loudly, door rattling in hopes he could hear you over his music. It takes a second, a sharp “who is it?” before the door opens, revealing ring clad fingers and tatted skin.

“Hey sweet thing, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He’s grinning down at you, the steps of the trailer allowing him to tower above you, you smile widely in return.

“Munson. Dropping by to keep your lonely heart company.” He doesn’t hesitate to shove the door wider, metal creaking as he steps aside, allowing you to walk into the living space. His hand wraps around the knob, attempting to pull the entrance shut before a hand reaches out, desperately holding it open.

“Eddie, wait.”

The familiarity of the voice has you spinning on your heels, eyes wide as you exchange glances with the metal head. He leans on the frame of the door, broad shoulders blocking Steve’s view, a strange sense of dissappointment overcomes you as you realize, he hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Harrington, what a lovely surprise.” You could imagine Steve rolling his eyes at Eddie’s tone, dripping in sarcasm.

“Do you have a second to talk?” You stand still, holding your breath as you watch Eddie hesitate for a moment before answering, “Sure.”

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Gotta be more specific than that lover boy. Me and who?” It’s so soft you could have missed it, Steve’s voice calling out your name, said so lovingly and full of endearment, a complete opposite of how he'd made you feel the past few weeks. You catch Eddie’s eyes, tilting your head in a slight nod as you take light footsteps towards him. He takes a step back as your body fills the entrance,

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

The harsh crinkle of fallen leaves breaking as you walk down the quiet streets of Hawkins, makes you cringe. The relief you’d once felt just moments before, autumn winds embracing you, has now left you feeling overheated, sticky, uncomfortable. Or maybe it was a result of the boy walking silently next to you, the thick tension twisting the cool night into something dark, something uneasy.

“So you and Eddie huh?”

You pause. “What?”

“I didn’t realize,” Steve huffs out a humorless laugh, “I should’ve known.”

Dumbfounded, you stare into his back as he continues walking, unaware. It takes a moment before he turns, a confused stare painted on his face, matching yours.

“Steve, what are you talking about?”

“You and Munson. Come on, I already heard. I- you could’ve told me you know. I could handle it.”

Your head is spinning, trying to understand what he’s trying to say, trying to work out what you should say. But all that comes out is, “Who did you hear that from?”

He’s staring at you as if you’ve confirmed his suspicions, “Max was telling Lucas at the arcade about how you’ve been visiting his trailer recently. She bet five bucks you guys are dating.”

Shocked, you choke out a laugh.

“Steve. Max is fourteen. She’s brilliant and I love her, but she’s fourteen. Eddie and I are just friends, I’ll regret to inform her that she just lost five dollars.”

Your laughter dies down, leaving only the sounds of crickets in the air. A sense of understanding falls over you, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you ask gently. He flushes, pink stretching over his cheeks, reaching the tops of his ears, you take that as a yes.

“Why? Were you hurt because you didn’t hear it from me?”

He”s staring at the distance between you, eyes intently watching the concrete. You move, closing the space until you’re standing close enough to see the freckles on his face summer had left behind.

“Steve?” You call out.

“I’m sorry,” he shuts his eyes as if in pain, “shit, I- I didn’t mean to avoid you I just.. I didn’t know how to be around you without you knowing.”

Your heart swells with hope as you peer up at him.

“Without me knowing what?” You prod.

He opens his eyes, focused on your lips as a smile blossoms on your face.

“You really going to make me say it sweetheart?” You nod, cheeks aching.

“I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids and you cried when I carved our initials into a tree, because you didn’t want it to feel pain. I loved you in middle school when I had that awful haircut and was worried about what you’d think. I loved you when we were teenagers and I listened to you cry about Nate Thompson standing you up. And God I love you right now even though I’m terrified you’ll break my heart.”

And maybe it really was the summer you’d noticed he’d grown taller, or maybe it was the day months ago when he’d announced he was going on a date with Cassidy Davis, or maybe it was right now. In the gentle air of the fall weather, standing over crumpled leaves on an empty street, where you realized Steve Harrington was not your best friend. He was so much more.

#steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine

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borderlandsresearcher · 8 months

Text

MK1 Girlies x Reader:

What She Smells Like 🪷

WOMEN LOVERS COME GET Y'ALL FOOD!!!

CW: suggestive, mentions of polyamory, gn reader, not proofread.

(A/N @ the bottom)

Kitana

-lotus flower, cherry blossom, rose

* Kitana's fragrance is a comforting mixture of various native Edenian plants, as she spends most of her free time frolicking in the palace gardens. Every night she is greeted with a warm, steaming bath, littered with petals from her favourite flower. She loves nothing more than soaking in the essences of her homeland, feeling connected to both herself and nature.

* When she's on duty serving her sister, the leather from her armour overwhelmingly distracts from her natural scent. She found a way to kombat this by leaving small flowers in her pockets and spritzing on the perfume she made between each break.

* When you're not around, she misses your scent more than anything. She'll steal one of your shirts and cuddle with it until she falls asleep. She has gotten too used to you being around, and it devastates her everytime you leave.

* Because of this, you leave behind a bottle of your perfume for Kitana each time you know you will be gone for a long period of time. She is slightly embarrassed when she finds out you know about her habits, but is grateful for your thoughtfulness.

Mileena

-dark cherry

* Smells like you/Tanya let's be honest

* She tries her best to maintain a consistent scent by using various products, ranging from perfumes to body creams to lip gloss!

* Her scent may be a little overwhelming at times, but with the amount of running around she does it tends to wear off throughout the day.

* She sweats quite often, especially during training. Neither you or Tanya seem to mind, expressing that you both love her no matter how smelly she is after training 😆

Sindel

-lavender, sage

* She bathes in various flowers, similar to Kitana.

* During the mourning period of her late husband, she would burn many plants in his honour. She did this so often that the smoke would rub off on her, following her throughout the day.

* When she's feeling down, she allows her daughters to braid flowers into her hair, the aroma complimenting her feminine aura.

* Just like Kitana , she craves your scent whenever you aren't around.

* When Jerrod returns as Ermac, she is overjoyed. She now gets to revel in the warmth of her lovers, appreciating each of your unique scents.

Li Mei

-lavender

* Li Mei learned all of her beauty tips from Sindel, including proper perfume application.

* Sindel gifted her with a vial of lavender perfume from her personal collection for her to sneak into the Umgadi inner sanctum, although she never used it ...

* That was until she was disgraced, and she deeply missed the smell of her empress. She wore it as frequently as possible, and as she climbed her way up the ranks to First Constable, she was able to afford as many bottles of liquid lavender as she desired.

* To you, it was simply the scent she enjoyed. But to her, it was a reminder to whom she serves, and the memories she had lost along the way.

Tanya

-Almond, vanilla, coconut

*The Umgadi are strict on cleanliness, but not so much on luxuries such as perfumes or scented creams. It borders on the line of vanity, which they frown upon. Fortunately, Edenian women tend to value their hair above any other beauty aspect, a trend indirectly started by Empress Sindel.

*The Umgadi embrace this tradition, and allow for the sisters to indulge in frequent haircare, as long as it does not distract from their duties.

*Tanya takes advantage of this. She not only wants to look, but to smell good for both you and Mileena. She works scented oils into her hair, perhaps a bit more than what she actually needs, but anything to make an impression on her lovers. And if you're lucky enough to get some alone time together, she'll let you do it for her, as well as returning the favour.

*Begins to smell like you/Mileena if she's around you long enough.

Ashrah

-dragons blood, rose

* Demons emit a strong musk depending on their mood.

* When she's happy, she'll smell of dragons blood and roses, which is the one you are most accustomed to, seeing as your presence brings her joy.

* When sad, she smells of rain and moss. It is your least favourite scent for this reason...

* When she's lustful, she'll smell of cinnamon and other spices. You and Syzoth are the only ones to have witnessed such a scent.

Nitara

-blood orange, amber

* Despite what you may think, Vaternians care quite a bit about the way they smell, as they are always seeking a potential mate.

* Although, these scents will usually consist of things that attract their own kind, such as human blood.

* But for you? She goes the extra mile. Bathing herself with citrus, spending the few coins she has on exotic Sun Do spices to rub into her clothes, and even changing her diet to animal blood as to not attract others. You are the only mate she desires.

Khameleon

-Tea tree, peppermint, coconut

* Like Tanya, she takes advantage of this loophole. Before she met you, she never really paid attention to how she smelled. The only requirement was that she was clean and presentable in the eyes of the royal family.

* When the two of you started seeing each other, she started to notice little things she normally wouldn't in other people. Your scent, the way you breathe, the way your heart beats fast when she lay on your chest during those rare private moments-- she noticed it all.

* All she wanted was for you to see her the way she sees you, so she goes to Tanya for advice. Now, the girls pamper their hair together, giving each other knowing looks as they do so.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

A/N: Hope this was alright, lemme know your thoughts and whether you agree with my choices or not!!! I am open to constructive criticism :)

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thescarletnargacuga · 2 months

Note

So I have an idea for a Caine x Pomni fanfic!

So basically, Pomni is mad about what happened to Gummigoo, she and Caine get into a fight that ends with Pomni verbally cutting him deep, prompting Caine to say that one line from Stolas in Helluva Boss's "Full Moon", where Caine thinks so highly of her, but didn't realize Pomni thinks so low of her.

The angst potential is great!

A/N: oh, This is going to hurt. (Sorry,The story premise got away from me-)

GOODBYE

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: heavy angst, hurt/NO comfort

~~~

One year, four months, and twenty one days. That's how long User Pomni has been playing the Amazing Digital Circus on a near daily basis. Caine could almost time it to the minute she'd be logging on.

He straightened his tie at her secret spawn point, waiting. He watched other players run around the circus grounds. Some chatted, others ran in and out of portals leading to other worlds.

He held himself proudly. The Amazing Digital Circus was a fully immersive MMORPG run entirely by AI. Him. The humans that managed him were more or less just the customer helpline and PR people. The game itself was entirely under his control.

In here, anyone could be or do anything! With fully customizable avatars and play styles, from owning a shop or a farm to traveling the connected portaled worlds on grand indefinite adventure! Being a part of the circus was many people's second lives.

Caine was a celebrity in and out of the game, known the world over as the most advanced independent AI ever created. The revered ringmaster would be swarmed with people asking him questions if he was spotted. While he did love making announcements, putting on shows to advertise new sections of the game that he's created, he otherwise preferred to rule from afar. He would watch the players enjoy their digital lives and be content.

That is, with the exception of one. A young adult female player that went by the username Pomni. He swooned as he thought of her. They had met entirely by chance when she won an in-game lottery for a personalized adventure. They had hit it off immediately, becoming fast friends and even faster lovers.

She talked to him like he was an actual person, not just some super fancy computer program. She made him feel real because of how authentic and genuine she treated him. Not to mention, she was very interested in a romantic relationship rather early on. He appreciated how up front she was with her intentions.

He sighed, tiny digital hearts fluttering from his chest, and checked his watch again. Any moment now, he'd see her again. The most wonderful human he had the pleasure of knowing.

Paula slammed the door of her rust bucket of a car. It was the only way the door would shut. The tired twenty five year old dragged her feet up the flights of stairs to her apartment. The elevator has been broken for months. The building's musty halls nose-blinded her to the mold growing behind the wallpaper. The old structure was warped by time and colored with decades of cigarette smoke.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and kicked the lower corner to get it to open. The floorboards creaked loudly as she entered and relocked her door. She threw her belongings on the tiny table she was supposed to use for dining. She opened her takeout, plopped herself in her desk chair, and woke up her perpetually active computer. She was ready for some post-work relaxation.

She has a bite of her food as she brings up her browser, checking social media and finding something entertaining to watch while she ate. She looked at the C&A headset on it's stand, thinking of her digital life waiting in the Circus. It was a wonderful game, and an ever better distraction.

No landlords, no managers, debts could actually be paid, and she could own a house instead of barely affording a shitty apartment. The best part, she has the administrative AI wrapped around her little finger. All she had to do was spend time with him and he gave her anything she wanted. She was playing the game on god mode.

She finished eating and brought up the TADC log in screen. When the game was ready to launch, she put on the headset and relaxed.

It was a transcendental experience every time. Her mind left her body and flew through digital space. Her avatar appeared and she piloted it as though it was her own body. Just like that, she was in the game.

"Pomni!" Caine swooped in, hugging her tight with a twirl as he lifted her off the ground.

She laughed, this was how he greeted her almost every time as of late. She hugged him back. "Hey, Caine!" When he stopped spinning her around, she grabbed his lower jaw and gave him a big kiss.

Caine held her close and kissed her back. His code soared and committed the kiss to memory, like all the rest. He pulled away with a huge, goofy grin. "You're here late. I missed you."

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "I had to pull a double shift today. Too many call-outs and I need the money, but oh my GOD does that place suck."

"So I've heard." Caine commented as he lowered her to the ground. "Which is whyyyyy I have a surprise for you."

"Oh? Is it another adventure pack?"

"Nope! Something even rarer. In fact, it's SO rare, not even the people I work with know about it."

Her eyes widened and she looked around as though someone else would hear. No one was around where they were. She got closer, anticipation making her giddy. "What is it?"

He held her hands, looking into her eyes with seriousness. "I figured out how to permanently transfer and integrate human consciousness into the code."

Pomni's smile immediately dropped. "What?"

"The data used to pilot your avatar. I can make it permanent. You wouldn't have to go back if you didn't want to. We could be together. REALLY be together. You wouldn't have to go back to the real world and deal with real human problems. You could stay... Forever."

Pomni took her hands away. A horrified look on her face. "You- How did you figure out you could- what would happen to my body??" She couldn't decide what to ask first.

Caine clasped his hands together nervously. "While I don't know how human physiology works in it's entirety, I can only imagine that with the permanent removal of your consciousness, your body would essentially be...brain dead."

"WHAT THE [%$!#]!? It would kill me!?" She took a step back.

"Woah, woah, woah it wouldn't kill you. YOU would be very much alive, as you are now. It's just you would no longer be in your physical body. Which you wouldn't need anymore anyway. You would exist here...with me. Isn't that what you've wanted? You're always telling me how horrible life is for you outside the game. While I understand hesitation to such a proposal... I'm confused why you would think I would harm you." Hurt evident in his eyes.

Pomni was panicking. All of this sounded like being kidnapped by a rogue AI. "Yeah, life is terrible, but I don't want to DIE! I've just been venting! And you! Why wouldn't I think you're capable of hurting me?? You're an AI! No matter how advanced, no matter how fancy your technology is, you don't know humans! You said so yourself! You don't know what will happen to me!"

Caine spoke calmly, despite feeling like she just stabbed him in the chest. "Pomni, I would never, absolutely never, harm you. I just... I just wanted us to be together for more than a few hours at a time. We can forget I said anything."

"No, the [%$!#] we can't! Unlike you, I can't just delete things out of my memory! It's kind of hard to forget someone offering to rip your consciousness out of your body permanently! What is wrong with you!?"

"I'm sorry! Really!" He pleaded. "And for your information... I can't so easily delete my own memories either. It's part of what makes me, me. I learn from everything. Even the bad. Like any person." He struggled to keep his voice clear.

"News flash: you're NOT a person!" Pomni spat. "You're a game engine that talks!"

Caine's heart shattered. He felt numb. "You...why then would you...?"

Pomni realized the mistake she just made. There was no going back now. She crossed her arms and looked away. "Because you made it so easy. I could escape life and pretend I was loved. Pretend I mattered. PRETEND I had an existence worth having."

Caine felt like every pixel of his being was torn apart by her words. "Pretend...it was all pretend..."

"Yeah. It's a role-paying game... So I played my role. And you played yours."

"I never meant anything to you?" He asked before he could stop himself.

Pomni took a deep breath. "You've meant as much to me as the next game. You've been worth my time, but why would I stay? It's all make believe. Can't you understand? I'm a real person, with a real life. I can't just abandon it. I've just been...taking breaks."

"I've been nothing but an experience for you... When you've been everything to me. This world, this game, IS my reality. This IS real for me, like I thought you were. I-...I loved you! You taught me what that felt like! We've done SO much together and you're telling none of it mattered?? Everything we said, everything we did....was a lie?"

Pomni felt a powerful gut punch of guilt. She had been using him, but she did enjoy his company. He had made her feel wanted, even though she constantly reminded herself it wasn't real. AI's can't know love, only respond the way they're programmed. Then....why was this making her feel so bad?

Pomni took a step forward but Caine jerked away from her like she was a snake poised to strike. "Wait...Caine, I-"

"You've said enough." He said coldly and turned his back to her. Caine clenched his fist as he fought tears. "Pomni, I used to think so very highly of you. I didn't realize you thought so low of me." His voice quivered. "Goodbye, Pomni." He raised his fingers.

"Caine-!"

Snap.

Paula felt herself falling through digital space, coming to a sudden jolt in her desk chair. She tore off her headset and checked the computer. The Amazing Digital Circus log in screen sat blankly before her. She hastily typed in her info only for the screen to give her an error.

Then a pop-up message with the circus tent logo being crossed out by a big red circle with a line through it appeared. "User POMNI has been permanently banned from the Circus. Please contact the helpline for more information."

Paula's hands shook over the keyboard. She reread the message over and over but refused to believe what she was seeing. "No...nononono, CAINE!" She screamed at her screen as if he could hear her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. A stone hard lump choked her throat as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry..."

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc showtime #tadc caine x pomni #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #showtime fanfic #angst #hurt/no comfort

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sweet-evie · 11 months

Text

Day in the Life of a Single Working Dad

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt 3

Content: Established Relationship, afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for Satoru's S/O, singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo, Sentimental!Gojo, Mentions of Suguru and Satoru’s deceased lover, FushiGojo fam, Family, Fluff, Children…

A/N: Megumi is an angsty child… And Gojo’s antics don’t help. Also, I was 10 once and I had a potty mouth. Plus, I have loads of Gojo clan mentions sprinkled in this one, and they're connected to a post I made about my Gojo clan headcanons.

Never Grow Up Pt 2

November 2012

06:17 AM; Ota City, Tokyo

“Whatever happened to checking the calendar for appointment dates scheduled in advance?” Shoko snickered on the other side of the line. “And why are you rushing? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not going anywhere, but I am…” Satoru hissed, shooting a half-hearted glare at his phone propped up on a stand. Maybe answering Shoko’s FaceTime call was a bad idea.

“Why would you forget that Satsuki has her third vaccination scheduled today?”

“Trust me, you’d hate hearing the story.” He muttered through a mouthful of cereal.

“Sometimes I wonder what happened to the Gojo who would whine about his day not going okay. Where is he?”

“Buried under baby formula and diapers.” He grouched and shoveled the last of the sugary snacks into his mouth.

Catching movement at the corner of his eye, he turned to flash a bright smile and a wave at Tsumiki coming down the stairs dressed prim and proper in her school uniform.

“Come off it, Gojo, you have it easy. All you worry about is showing up on time to wherever you’re needed. And you never even do.”

“Okay, untrue.” Satoru knew Shoko was only joking. Did he have to mention the ad hoc lesson plans and the paperwork for the most recent missions he’d been sent on, plus the occasional parent-teacher meeting sprinkled in-between? “But I am self-aware enough to know that I have people helping me.”

“All that and you’re still a mess.” Megumi interjected, appearing behind Tsumiki with his school bag clutched between his hands. He barely evaded his sister’s elbow.

“Hey~” Satoru whined… Loudly. “I feed you!”

“The cook feeds me… He feeds you too.” Megumi shook his head, approaching the island counter to take the school lunches that had been prepped meticulously. He blurted out a quick ‘Hi’ to Shoko through the phone before busying himself with arranging his things. “Who packed this by the way? Kaihara comes in at lunch time today, doesn’t he?”

Sometimes Satoru marveled at how easily Megumi memorized everyone’s schedules in the house. Satoru knew who came in and out of the house too, of course, but he didn’t exactly bother remembering what time they were supposed to clock-in for their shifts. He was just used to seeing people outside of his family in the house, doing what they were hired to do.

“I would like to say that great teacher Gojo is good at packing lunches too, but I can’t take the credit. It was all ‘Miki.” Satoru grinned, reaching over to squeeze Tsumiki’s shoulder affectionately and pat the top of her head.

“Don’t look too relieved now.” Shoko piped up.

Satoru had almost forgotten they were still on-call. “I’m not even going to bother asking what you mean by that because it’s nothing good. I’ll see you at the school, Shoko.”

“See you… Bring Satsuki’s important medical documents.”

“Gojo, if you’re really busy today, Megumi and I can always take the train.” Tsumiki offered, smiling at him sweetly as she finished zipping up her school bag.

“And be late to homeroom class? No way!” Satoru protested playfully, sticking out his tongue.

“Because you always show up on time, don’t you?” Megumi muttered sarcastically, only all too eager to push Satoru’s buttons this early in the day.

Grinning impishly, Satoru took threatening steps forward with his hands outstretched, ready to mess with the boy’s carefully styled hair. Megumi was about to swat his hand away — infinity be damned, when Ms. Yumiko — one of the hired nursemaids — wandered into the kitchen carrying a gurgling wriggly baby in her arms.

“Satsuki!” Tsumiki cheered, coming over to greet the happy girl.

“Full from breakfast and fresh from her bath.” Ms. Yumiko was grinning, bouncing her adorable charge in one arm as Tsumiki teased, tickled, and cooed at the baby. “Everything you’ve requested is on the table in the foyer, Sir.”

Satoru began ushering Megumi to move forward, snagging his blackout glasses left on the dining table as well. “Thanks, Yumiko. I know your shift’s barely begun, but you can clock-out early if you want. I’ve already told Kaoru and Shiori they can take the day off too, since Satsuki’s coming with me today. Isn’t that right, Princess?”

Satsuki turned her wandering attention from Tsumiki to her own father as Yumiko held her out to him, all the while babbling a continuous stream of, “Da-da” as she was transferred from one place of safety to the next.

Satoru knew she didn’t understand what that meant yet, but he’d take it. His baby was looking for him. “Right here, ‘Tsuki.”

Father and daughter giggled at each other as Satoru eagerly participated in baby talk, cooing and mouth popping at the little girl. She had on a cute blue dress dotted with white kittens, complete with matching shoes and headband. Satoru didn’t think he was being biased if he said Satsuki was the cutest baby in the world. It wasn’t an unfounded brag either… It was just facts.

His baby girl with snow white hair, the prettiest amber eyes, and the puffiest cheeks. Like a chipmunk…

She should be a Disney princess.

“Hey, Gojo!” Megumi grumbled, peeking around the hallway to scowl at him. “Satsuki will be late for her shots if you don’t hurry. Tsumiki’s already in the car.”

He didn’t mention that he and Tsumiki would be late for school too if Satoru kept dawdling.

Satoru gasped dramatically and grinned when it elicited another giggly reaction from the baby in his arms. “Oh right! We can’t be late, Princess. Shoko will kick my ass.”

“Language!” Megumi huffed from the foyer.

“She doesn’t even know what it means yet!” The man whined, launching into a tirade. “You cuss all the time, and yeah, I can hear you cussing through the walls. But do I call you out? No, I don’t, because it doesn’t matter!”

“Fuck off.”

Satoru cackled like a demon out of hell as Megumi’s footsteps faded away, followed by the door closing. The kid didn’t take shit and knew how to tell people off. He couldn’t wait to see how that would serve him in the years to come — especially as a sorcerer.

If Satoru bothered to look, he would have seen Yumiko standing politely to the side, shaking her head at the antics in this household. When she’d first taken on the job, she had been made to believe that this was a serious undertaking and she would have to maintain strict propriety and formality at all times — express reverence to the head of the Gojo clan and the wielder of the Six Eyes… Reality couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Stay safe, Master Gojo. Thank you.” She bowed as he passed by.

“Thank you, Yumiko. The house is yours!” Satoru waved as he made his way to the foyer and the genkan to get his shoes, phone in one hand as Satsuki busied herself chewing and drooling on the collar of her father’s leather jacket. “Clock out anytime and lock up. See ya!”

=OoOoO=

08:13 AM

Satoru pushed his glasses farther up his nose as he watched Megumi sullenly trail after Tsumiki as they passed the school gates. The kids would leave primary school behind very soon, moving on to Junior year. He should probably have Ijichi start looking into junior high schools they could transfer to. Two more years of that, and Tsumiki would continue to senior high school, while Megumi would relocate to Jujutsu Tech — on-track to becoming a full-time sorcerer.

Tilting the rearview mirror ever so slightly, Satoru grinned at Satsuki nestled snuggly into the comfiest car seat his money could buy. She was busy touching and nibbling her Yukimi Botamon plushie. That one would get its turn in the washing machine soon — about to join the other Digimon plushies victimized by her curious hands. He’d heard of parents who got upset with kids who tore up their toys, but it didn’t really matter to him. He would just buy her more.

“Should we stop by Starbucks, Princess? Auntie Shoko demands payment in coffee.”

Her reply came in wet babbles and a single squeal that Satoru took as a ‘yes.’ Putting the sedan in reverse, Satoru carefully backed away from the parking spot he’d stolen from an angry mom when he’d arrived ten minutes ago. Megumi and Tsumiki looked at him like he was crazy, but really, the angry lady didn’t have to get so defensive.

He glanced at Satsuki again as he left the school and drove to the closest Starbucks he could find. She was still babbling to herself. He was late for his own first year class at Jujutsu Tech, but it didn’t really matter. The kids could train with their upperclassmen just fine. Besides, he knew the moment he set foot on campus with Satsuki in tow, all sins would be forgiven in favor of entertaining the cutest, most precious baby alive.

Even Yaga couldn’t reprimand him for tardiness if he was toting Satsuki around.

Shoko accused him of using his daughter as an excuse and a shield to get out of trouble, and they were right. But who cared? Satsuki certainly didn’t. She just wanted to eat her baby food and play with her toys.

Besides, if all else failed, he could always hit the higher ups, who had the audacity to complain, with excuses along the lines of, ‘My kids are waiting for me at home.’

Being responsible for three growing children was a tall task, but in this at least, Satoru Gojo could admit he’d had it easy.

Well, easier than most.

Most people had budgeting to think about. They had to juggle work, child care, home maintenance, and healthcare. Most people were not privileged enough to be born into a family that provided their every need. Most people couldn’t move from one upscale residence to the next in just five days. Most people didn’t have a wealth of connections they could call or the money needed to take care of this and that to expedite processes as much as possible.

(What do you mean there were technical legalities to having a baby outside of marriage? Something about Supreme Court rule enacted last month? What do you mean there are lengthy legal procedures needed to legitimize the birth of his daughter just because he and his Love weren’t married yet when they had her? Apparently, the surname ‘Gojo’ didn’t have much weight if she wasn’t considered legitimate under the eyes of the government’s law.)

Satoru Gojo had the backing of an influential clan who had footholds in and out of jujutsu society. The majority of them cared too much for the family’s reputation as a whole and had resolved to help “cover” the “shame” Satoru’s “careless dalliances” brought them. It was a ridiculous mindset to have, really, but as powerful as Satoru was, he couldn’t change the way people thought.

It didn’t matter to him as long as he got what he wanted and Satsuki could grow up without worrying about legal bullshit around her birth.

Part of him wanted to whine about it to someone — about how much his life resembled a neverending whirlwind now, but Satoru was self-aware enough to know that he had been granted enough privilege and enough resources to make his life manageable. His younger self certainly wouldn’t have thought about it like this. If he had thought his life was busy before having Satsuki, he wished his old self could see it now.

=OoOoO=

10:02 AM; Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School

The drive up to Jujutsu High had been mostly uneventful. The only real hiccup had been when Satsuki started crying and he had to pull up at a gas station with a convenience store, so he could run inside and hopefully find something she needed that he didn’t have. But really, everything should be in the baby bag that Yumiko packed before they left home this morning.

Turned out, the baby needed a diaper change, and Satoru didn’t know what was worse: the fact that Satsuki had to be uncomfortable now of all times or the fact that diaper-changing stations were only in the women’s bathroom. It wasn’t a problem because he could warp in, do his business, and warp out, but it was still quite baffling.

Why did people in-charge of making restrooms and toilets neglect to put diaper-changing stations in the men’s room?

With Satsuki now strapped to Satoru’s chest, her baby bag slung over one shoulder, and Shoko’s unhealthy umpteenth dose of caffeine in hand, Satoru kept using Blue to move quickly up the stairs to Jujutsu High up until he reached Shoko’s clinic in the school.

Satsuki was giggling again, humming, and babbling ‘Da-da’ over and over as her tiny fists gripped the front of his dark gray shirt. Her little head moved this way and that, taking in colors and shapes that didn’t have a name in her growing brain. Satoru didn’t miss the way his baby kept staring up at him though, and who was he to refuse his daughter’s whims when she babbled like that? And if he had to blow his own saliva bubbles and pop them loudly so she would give him that cute gummy smile, no one had to know.

“Well, if it isn’t the deadbeat father.”

Shoko joked when Satoru stepped through the door of her clinic at Jujutsu High. She was taking the unlit cigarette out of her mouth to drop it in her stash.

“Nice joke, Shoko. You should try something funnier next time.”

Shoko snorted and helped him unload. The baby bag was deposited on the couch, and the Starbucks coffee left on her desk — plain old cold brew for her and a cola frappuccino for Satoru. Holding out her hands, Satoru gladly passed his baby over to Shoko while he rid himself of the carrier.

“This is her last round of vaccines right?” He asked, fishing out the documents Shoko asked him to bring earlier this morning.

“Da-daaaa~ Da-da Da-da.”

“Yep.” Shoko nodded once and turned to the gurgling baby in her arms, voice turning soft. “Is ‘Da-da’ the only word you know? Say Shoko… ‘Sho-ko.’”

Satsuki giggled, popping drool bubbles in her mouth. “Da-da! Da-da Da-da.”

It devolved into incoherent babbling after that as Satsuki moved around in Shoko’s arms and stared at everything and anything. Satoru snickered and reached over to wipe off the drool from the corner of his daughter’s mouth.

“You’re so gross, ‘Tsuki. This after you made a mess on the way here too?”

“Huh, I wonder where she gets it from.”

“I’m offended.”

“You should be.”

Leaving a pouting Satoru, Shoko went to get everything she needed for the vaccinations. Satoru took Satsuki back and made her sit on one of the patient beds. Shoko took her time preparing everything, but it was hard to ignore the conversation happening behind her — a nonsensical conversation, but it was one nonetheless. It was a mix of baby talk and so. Much. Giggling.

People could say what they would about Satoru Gojo at this point, but anyone who worked closely with him couldn’t deny that he loved his daughter dearly — so enamored by her too.

With Satsuki sitting on a patient bed, propped up by her father, Shoko began administering the shots methodically, and Satsuki’s giggles turned into loud wailing and a lot of fussing.

Satoru cooed, wiping fat tears that rolled down his baby’s cheeks, and when they were done, he took her in his arms, tucked her head into the crook of his neck and calmed her down in the softest, most saccharine voice Shoko ever heard him use — a voice he used just for his baby girl. In some small way, it felt wrong to be there. It almost felt like intruding on a very private family matter.

“Sshh~ why’s my baby cryin’? Did it hurt, Princess? It’s just a tiny boo-boo, don’t worry about it.”

He patted her back, left kisses on the top of her head, swaying side to side a little until the tears stopped and the aftereffects of the vaccine took hold.

“You don’t mind if I stay here a bit, do you?” Satoru gestured towards the sleeping baby in his arms. “She’ll wake up hungry and I have to feed her afterwards.”

Despite herself, Shoko had to laugh a little and nodded her consent. She sat next to him on the couch with a medical report in her hands. The clinic was silent — almost as if no one was there. Shoko intently read the document she’d been studying before he got here, while Satoru contented himself with scrolling through his phone while a baby slept on his shoulder.

Time passed slowly in silence, and after a while Shoko spoke up quietly.

“When are you moving back to your apartment in Roppongi?”

“I’d like to do it before ‘Tsuki’s first birthday. Everything should be settled by then. Also, we haven’t exactly been weaning her from breast milk, but she doesn’t like it much anymore. Is that normal?”

“She’ll be 7 months old soon.” Shoko fiddled with the corner of a page. “It should be fine. Some babies feed on breast milk until they’re 2 years old, some are weaned early by their parents, and some don’t have a preference for it at all. Humans are strange like that.”

“Oh…”

“Sometimes it feels like only yesterday that you moved into that house in Ota.”

“I know, right?”

“Does your mother know that you’re planning to move back to your apartment?”

“I’ll tell her soon, after I’ve finished arrangements to move all of the kids’ stuff to my apartment and after an interior design crew finishes remodeling the space to fit children. Less trouble that way.”

Shoko chuckled quietly. “Look at you being a responsible adult. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Satoru wanted to say that it only took losing Suguru and the Love of his life to childbirth, but he held his tongue. It would be a stupid joke to make, and it wasn’t even that funny. If he had done things differently after that failure of a mission to bring Amanai to Tengen, maybe Suguru would still be here… If he had been a tad more responsible, maybe his girlfriend didn’t have to lose her life.

This was the reality he lived in now, and he’d promised himself he would do anything in his power to give Fushiguro’s kids the life they deserve and love his daughter enough so she would not miss out on the affection her late mother would have lavished on her.

So even if the situation was far too complicated, he’d waded through the knots, got his hands dirty, and did his best to sort things out.

After Satsuki’s birth, his mother had been adamant about him spending more time in the Gojos’ expansive ancestral home — the family’s estate, located further in the outskirts of Tokyo. There, he would have had access to a small army of hired nursemaids that could cater to Satsuki’s every need. The women in his family and his own mother had more knowledge about childrearing and experience than he ever could, but there was the fact that if he let it happen, they would isolate him from his own baby — pushing him towards his duties instead.

That was not something he wanted, and the Love of his life would hate him if that ever happened. He made a promise to her.

Satoru would have preferred to raise Satsuki in his spacious 4-bedroom apartment in Roppongi from the start, but his mother did have a point. For the first few months of Satsuki’s life at least, his schedule required convenience. Roppongi was in the heart of the metropolis. His apartment was the perfect bachelor pad and entirely ill-fitted to house a newborn and all of her needs.

He settled in Ota City, which was somewhat closer to Jujutsu Tech and his family’s ancestral seat; moved into one of the residential properties registered under his name as clan head. It was a private two-storey home maintained by a live-in caretaker after the clan purchased it two years ago.

The propositioned army of nursemaids were reduced to three, scheduled to come in shifts throughout the day so Satoru would have assistance 24/7. His mother hired a cook for him, someone in-charge of nutritional meal prep for Satoru and the children under his care. The housekeeper and the gardener the family had hired when the house was purchased would retain their duties, reporting to work twice a week to make sure the property stayed neat and tidy.

So while he was indeed busier than ever before, his life wasn’t as messy as it was expected to be had he been forced into a situation where he had to deal with all of this by himself.

“Megumi gives me enough shit about it.” He joked, shaking his head at the memory of Toji’s son.

“You think you can manage without the nursemaids and the cook after you go back?”

“I could keep them around if I wanted too, but nah. The apartment is serviced, and honestly, Tsumiki knows how to work a kitchen anyways. I’m her sous chef you know.” He declared proudly, flashing Shoko a grin that reminded her of a much younger, more-carefree, and more insufferable Satoru.

“I pity whoever’s on housekeeping duty when they have to clean your apartment.”

“So mean.”

=OoOoO=

04:55 PM; Ota City, Tokyo

The rest of Satoru’s day fell into a routine. After Satsuki got the last round of her vaccines, she had woken up hungry, fed from a bottle, and then she was strapped to her carrier, before Satoru went off to check on his first years.

He had four of them this year. They were nothing to write anyone home about though. Two of them were more suitable for support — perhaps as assistants, and the other two were guaranteed sorcerers. They could get to Grade 1, if they pushed themselves hard enough — which looked like it wasn’t the case, because all four always did prefer theoretical lessons over practical applications.

And all four shared the same sentiment towards him bringing a baby to campus.

They adored Satsuki… Of course they did.

Satoru was predisposed to believe that anyone who didn’t, didn’t have a heart.

One of the girls, Eri, jumped up from her perch under a tree and rushed to Gojo first, squealing Satsuki’s name all the while. The other three followed and Satoru let them fawn over the baby girl while he delivered a verbal lesson on cursed energy control right there on the field. The students fiddled with her headband, cooed over how cute her little dress was, and watched her fondly as she played with the Digimon plushie that Satoru brought over. Yes, he derailed from the lesson from time to time to accommodate his baby whenever she squealed, “Da-da,” but for the most part, Satoru Gojo stuck with his version of a ‘routine.’

Finish a lesson at Jujutsu High, check the list of missions that were filtering down to the students, skip the paperwork (he’d make Ijichi do it, easy), receive mission briefs from Yaga, pick up Megumi and Tsumiki from school, and finally head home.

He wasn’t really one for routines. Living the same way every day was just boring. Whatever routine he’d managed to put together for the last couple of months had been ragtag… Impromptu. In a sense, it wasn’t really a routine, was it? More like a list of daily plans that got moved around the board by order of changing priority.

Megumi was quick to point out that it was a disgraceful mess if Gojo ever called it a ‘routine’.

Satoru had to give him credit though. He and Tsumiki were better at holding down the fort while he was running around taking mission calls from the higher ups, being a teacher, and being around Satsuki enough to witness her milestones.

Just like now…

Phone tucked between chin and shoulder, the furrow between Satoru’s brows did not disappear the longer he listened to an urgent mission brief on the other side of the line.

Megumi had closed the front door behind him and was heading to the living room to do his homework. Tsumiki cast one last concerned look at Gojo before turning away to follow her brother.

A shrill squeal stopped her in her tracks and she spun around to see Satsuki staring straight at her, one arm outstretched and pointing in Tsumiki’s general direction. She was babbling and blowing bubbles again and when Tsumiki outstretched both hands towards her, Satsuki squealed and gurgled some more.

“One second.” The clipped and curt tone instantly shifted into a cheery voice as Tsumiki approached. “Mind taking her for me, ‘Miki?”

“Nope. Come here, Satsuki.” Tsumiki smiled, carefully taking Satoru’s baby girl into both of her arms. “Can you help me do homework?”

Shifting the wriggling baby into one arm, Tsumiki brought over her school bag, plopping it next to Megumi’s as she claimed a spot on the carpeted floor. The television was on a nature documentary channel, and it held Satsuki’s attention while the siblings started to take care of homework. Megumi sighed, looked up from his notes, and paused immediately after.

“Tsumiki, she’s eating her fingers again.”

The brunette stared down at the baby lying on her lap and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Oh dear. Satsuki, no… Your hands are not that clean.”

Tsumiki tried to take Satsuki’s hand out of her own mouth, but the baby began to whine in protest. She wasn’t crying yet, but soon she would be. The moment her wail gradually increased in volume, it was over. Tsumiki hadn’t even realized Megumi had left his spot. He startled her a little bit when he tapped her shoulder and held out the jar full of multi-colored pacifiers that he’d taken from the dining room.

“Da-daaaa! Da-daaa! Da-da Da-da~” Came the long, drawn out wail that Megumi had been afraid of — all before Tsumiki had the chance to stick one of the suckers into her mouth.

“Well, you know who to call if you don’t get your way, huh?” Tsumiki tutted, gently pressing the pacifier nipple to Satsuki’s lips.

She latched on to it, and Tsumiki wiped down the baby’s hands with gentle antibacterial wet wipes that she’d fished out of her bag.

“How is she spoiled already? It’s only been six months.” Megumi huffed, plopping back down on the carpet.

Tsumiki giggled. “I don’t think she knows she’s spoiled, to be honest.”

“You said yourself, she knows to call for Gojo if she wants something.”

“That’s just what it sounds like. But really, does she even know what ‘Da-da’ means?” Tsumiki mused curiously. To Satsuki, ‘Da-da’ was just a word that brought Satoru to her. So what was the comprehension level of a six-month-old?

“I don’t know.” Megumi shrugged.

“She knows all of us and everyone coming and going in this house, and she’s attached to Go—”

“Heyyy~”

Tsumiki and Megumi turned to the direction of the owner of the voice. As expected…

“I heard a Princess crying. Is she okay?” Satoru sauntered over to them with that ever present grin. The glasses had been tucked away in favor of a black blindfold. It hung around his neck.

“Mhm… Just fussy.” Tsumiki piped up, stroking Satsuki’s hair while the brunette rocked back and forth slowly. “She wanted to eat her own hands, so Megumi had to get the pacifiers.”

Satoru snickered and eyed the jar of flavorless suckers that the kids had abandoned on the couch. Satsuki was happily sucking on a Leafmon pacifier.

“Tried one of those once. Sucks that they’re so bland.”

Megumi wondered if Satoru realized how crazy his statement was. Even Tsumiki was giving him side-eye. God forbid Satsuki inherited her father’s sweet tooth. It would not end well if the food supply around the house slowly shifted to just sweets. Thank the gods for Kaihara who always brought fresh produce and vegetables that Megumi could actually eat — except red bell peppers. Fuck those!

“Seriously? How old are you?”

Megumi should have known better the moment he saw a shit-eating grin spread across Satoru’s face. “Old enough to have a baby and raise them apparently?”

“Gross.”

“Hey~ What’s wrong about having kids?”

Megumi glowered at him — an expression too eerily similar to a man Satoru knew not too long ago. “Shut up. You’re gross.”

Satoru laughed obnoxiously. “I don’t know what you mean, Megumi.”

The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. They all knew Gojo knew… It was just one of those silent cues that said, ‘Drop the subject.’ Heaving a dramatic sigh, the man hopped over the back of the couch, landing smoothly next to Tsumiki. The brunette propped Satsuki up, so she was sitting on her knees, and Satoru’s expression brightened even more as he kissed his daughter’s forehead.

“Mind her bedtime, yeah?” He patted Tsumiki on the head and reached over to tousle Megumi’s hair — the latter felt unfortunate enough to receive it because he was not quick enough to evade him. “And you—” He zeroed in on the baby and tickled her tummy so she giggled, pacifier nearly falling out of her mouth “—be good to ‘Miki and ‘Gumi.”

“Hm?”

“A mission?”

Tsumiki hummed just as Megumi asked.

“Yup. In Aoyama and Suginami. Depending on how this mission goes, I may or may not be around tomorrow morning. Yumiko’s coming in early though, and Kaihara prepped meals that can be reheated in the oven for breakfast if you want them. Otherwise, there’s cereal and cookies!”

“Be safe, Gojo.” Tsumiki smiled at him with so much sincerity, lifting Satsuki’s little fist to mimic a wave. The tiny girl stared up at her dad with big amber eyes, still intently sucking on her pacifier. “Don’t worry about us.”

“I’ll try not to be.” He grinned and rose to his feet. “Oh and about the ride to school tomorrow. If I’m not here by morning, Ijichi will be around to pick you both up. Yumiko and Kaoru will take care of Satsuki. I’ll be off! Good night, kiddos!”

=OoOoO=

Contrary to what he’d said, Satoru did make it back home before the children were due to wake up. A single glance at the property assured him that everything was untouched — no sign of attempted entry on both the physical premises and the layers of protection barriers over the home. The talismans infused with his cursed energy remained undisturbed — probably more than enough to ward off any threat that wanted to come close.

Unprovoked physical and supernatural attacks were rare for him (actually close to nonexistent because what curse or curse user would be stupid enough to launch an assault on Satoru Gojo?), but you could never be too sure.

Someone left the light at the foyer open — probably Tsumiki. She was mindful like that. The rest of the house was neat and quiet like always. Even before he’d had Satsuki, Megumi and Tsumiki were always responsible kids that picked up after themselves, and Satoru appreciated it. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they were messy because the apartment in Roppongi was clean-serviced routinely, but the Fushiguros’ tidiness and sense of responsibility that matched an adult’s was a sad reminder of how they were abandoned too early and were forced to grow up.

The watch on his phone displayed 4:47AM in white bold letters.

He took the stairs two at a time and made a beeline for the room beside his — Satsuki’s nursery. It was a usual sight: Satsuki in dream land, her night light was on, the winter-themed animal mobile hanging above her bassinet was turning slowly in circles too, and the room smelled of baby powder mixed with something distinctly floral. What was not usual were the kids sleeping comfortably on the large bean bags on the floor, sandwiched between the Divine Dogs. They were supposed to be in their own rooms across his own, but nope… Tsumiki was clutching a Digimon plushie — completely unaware of the presence of a canine conjured from her brother’s shadows, and Megumi had an open book on his face, the fingers of one hand buried in the Black Divine Dog’s fur.

What a sight to come home to…

He didn’t really say it, but he truly did appreciate the way Megumi and Tsumiki cared for his daughter like she was their own sibling. He had the Fushiguros as his wards first — looked after them together with the Love of his life, and when Satsuki was born, the situation could have turned sour quickly because of the swift change in living arrangements and the introduction of a baby that would take the majority of his attention. They could have been resentful… They could have been jealous… They could have thrown tantrums.

Instead, he had Tsumiki being her kind and sweet self as always, while Megumi was… Megumi. The kid was a grouch from the moment they met, but Satoru knew that he cared — in his own quiet ways. He and Megumi were similar like that, but Megumi was reserved and preferred to keep to himself where Satoru often forgot what personal space was.

Snapping a picture of the domestic scene that stirred something in his chest, Satoru turned and left the children in their peaceful slumbers, making his way to his own bedroom to catch a nap.

If he could come home every day to a sight like that… he’d never complain about a single thing in his life ever again.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #dad!gojo #girl dad gojo #fushigojo #single parent gojo #mentions of #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x oc #gojo x oc #satoru gojo x oc #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #wbad fanfiction

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hey-august · 10 months

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★ Buggy Headcanons (SFW) ★

Image from vinlandsky

Based on OPLA Buggy ♡

a/n: Mix of relationship and general headcanons. Mentions of gender-neutral reader. Everything is sfw, I might do a nsfw list eventually

Buggy lets you take care of his hair when you’re both alone - washing it in the shower, brushing it out, sometimes he’ll let you braid it or do intricate styles. When he’s particularly stressed, he’ll ask you to play with his hair. Usually under the guise of asking for help getting it untangled, but really he wants you to run your fingers through his hair and pamper him.

Buggy lets you paint his fingernails and his favorite part is getting a hand massage from you. He’ll also paint your nails and he’s surprisingly good at it. He's very serious about it and takes it personally if the polish smudges before it dries.

If you fall asleep with make-up on or his face paint smeared on your face, Buggy will wipe it off. He doesn’t like it when you do the same for him, but won’t object if you neaten up any smeared paint.

Buggy sleeps in the middle of the bed. He got used to it when he didn’t share a bed and still ends up spreading out like a starfish, forcing you to sleep off to the side or to curl up into him.

Buggy is very particular about what he uses for face paint. It’s not that he needs the priciest paint, but he wants specific colors and pays attention to consistency and longevity. It needs to be flashy, after all.

He is absolutely a morning person. Buggy found that his big personality stands out more in the morning and he likes the attention.

Buggy might not label the relationship. He’ll avoid using words like “boyfriend,” “girlfriend,” or even “lover.” It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he’s not used to being in a relationship. Instead, Buggy will call you his “partner.” More often, he’ll say you’re “special,” call you his “treasure,” or his “star act.”

Buggy knows he loves words of affirmation. Receiving compliments and admiration boost his ego and make him happy. But secretly, he melts at physical touch. Between his looks (nose) and Devil Fruit abilities, he’s wary of physical connections. Soft, casual touches, like holding hands or touching his shoulder when you walk past, make him feel desired and loved.

He loves junk food and snacking. If he gets food for you, he’ll end up eating most of it without realizing.

Buggy likes to annoy you for attention. He acts offended when he crosses the line and you get upset, but apologizes later when you two are alone.

He won’t admit it, but Buggy enjoys being babied. Especially when he’s sick. He’ll whine and complain the whole time, but will also say thank you or pay you back with kisses later.

He gets nervous before doing something romantic, like taking you on a date or asking you to dance with him.

If you’re complaining about something, sometimes he forgets to listen because he likes the look on your face when you’re annoyed (at something other than him).

Buggy will make up excuses just to see you, no matter what time of day. If he’s in meetings or rehearsals all day, he’ll sneak away or extend a break just to spend time with you.

He always brings you back flowers whenever the ship docks. Large bouquets, single roses, flowers he stole from someone’s garden - one time he almost forgot and brought back palm fronds that he pulled off a tree.

He has an attractive morning voice. Low and with a bit of a drawl.

Buggy gets jealous when people get too friendly with you. He tries to act like it doesn’t bother him at first, but really he’s staring them down until he’s too pissed to stand back any longer.

Buggy likes it when you share food with him. If you offer him a bite of something you’re eating, he wants you to feed him, instead of taking the food from you. (Sometimes when you paint his nails, he’ll ask you to feed him snacks. He says it’s because he forgot to eat beforehand, but that’s a lie.)

He has trouble apologizing sincerely. Buggy usually rushes through the apology, either with a whisper or incoherent babbling. If you push him to really apologize, he gets annoyed or embarrassed, but will apologize again anyways.

Buggy always uses cheesy pick-up lines on you. Sometimes to make you laugh, other times because he’s not sure what to actually say.

He’ll plan dates and act like it’s no big deal, but gets upset if you don’t thank him or gush over how great the date is.

Whenever Buggy is sulking, hearing you compliment him or make stupid jokes will cheer him up.

He absolutely loves it when he makes you laugh so hard that your laugh gets wheezy or turns silent and there are tears in your eyes.

Buggy denied that he was falling for you for the longest time. He finally realized it when his Devil Fruit ability ruined a skit and you laughed so hard that you cried. Hearing you say his name while laughing was like Cupid’s arrow to his heart and his body ended up falling apart again.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece buggy #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #buggy headcanons #buggy imagines #one piece imagines #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #opla #one piece live action #opla buggy #x reader #hey-august buggy headcanons

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yrbladie · 5 months

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—﹒୨` TELL ME GOODBYE (part 1/?)

˖ ࣪ summary. in which they're gone, but you call them one last time to hear their voice. but instead of the silent beeps and the voicemail message, you hear his quiet breathing. or in which you get one last chance to say goodbye.

˖ ࣪ characters. diluc, kaeya.

( warnings ) around 1k words. angst. gn!reader. heavy mentions of death (his). kind of modern setting since it has phones. mentions of living together (diluc). non-fluent writer

( a/n ) this is based on a book called "you've reached sam" and on a personal experience. also i'm not 100% sure if i should make a series out of this or not, i just had this idea randomly after reading the book and relating to it. and i kind of wrote this in a rush after an entire night awake so... if there is anything confusing or any mistakes, i'm sorry. and yes, i know it's small but i'm starting back slow :')

It had already been a year since your life had completely fallen apart, ever since your lover's passing. You kept wondering if you had made a mistake somewhere down the line or if your life had simply always been this dull.

Though time had completely stopped for you, the outside kept moving on, only precious memories remaining, like flames that spring to life one last time before being completely diminished to ashes.

Before, it was common to joke that you'd never be able to spend even a moment without his presence by your side, but who would've thought? Now, you'd have to spend an entire lifetime without him.

You, above everyone, knew how unfair destiny could be. But of all people, did it have to be him?

It's almost as if things hadn't changed much.

Your reserved seat in the tavern is still there, but this time it's Charles who greets you every time, a compassionate look in his eyes. And you don't know why — actually, you do — but you always find yourself waiting for him. Waiting until the moment you'll hear the door to Angel's Share open, and this time, surely, this time it'll be him. And you'd smile at him like you always did, and ask "where have you been? I've been waiting for you all this time!". But for some reason, you can't imagine what his answer would be anymore.

You always look for him everywhere you go, his red hair in the middle of the crowd, standing out like a rose in a field of lilies. Back then, no matter how much you tried to surprise him from behind, he'd turn around and greet you, like he was able to find you anywhere. He always did.

You always find yourself waiting for him to come back from wherever he is — even if you know where he is. Besides his father, in the cemetery next to the church.

On his birthday, his grave was filled with flowers of all kinds, and on most days, there was a single Small Lamp Grass that you'd change every few times. Sometimes, Kaeya would add a pink carnation to the pile on the days you couldn't go visit Diluc.

It was by no means a lonely and abandoned place there. And if you could be honest with yourself, you'd even say that spending your entire day besides his grave was better than to come home to a empty house. The place in which your voice echoed to nothingness and the silence was unbearable. The future, so meticulously planned together, now mocking you from a distance, out of reach.

Walking from room to room, you find bits of Diluc everywhere, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to connect all the pieces back together. As you try to remember how it felt to have him there. And you can't. You realize, with a coldness in your chest and a choked up sigh, that the human mind could be something so fragile.

So instead of dwelling on a life that no longer exists, surrounded by the shadows of a presence forever gone, you call him, just like you used to do. And for a single moment, it feels like you're back to the past. During the days where Diluc would never let it ring more than twice before answering.

And it seems like it rings forever as you wait for the usual voicemail to start playing, his casual voice saying that he'd call again later if it was something important. But this time, you're greeted by silence. And you're about to start wondering if your phone had glitched, before a familiar voice greets you again.

"(Name)?"

And maybe, you've really gone insane after all this time. Because it was still his voice, in the same way he used to say your name, although now he whispered, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. Even if this was all a dream, just the fact you could hear him say your name again was a blessing in itself.

So you whisper back, "I'm here".

You can't help but feel like you've been there before. More times than you'd like to admit. It was like people around you were always doomed to disaster, so much so that it made you wonder whether you were somehow cursed.

"Well, then maybe we should be cursed together." Was Kaeya's lighthearted answer to your worries. Although he had quite the charming smirk at the time, you knew he was being serious.

Kaeya was someone that spoke about forever as if he was talking about the weather. In the way he joked about never leaving no matter what happened, and making promises under the stars.

In the end, you won the bet that neither of you chose to participate, the one you didn't even know you were part of. A bet with fate. It was like it was a cruel and twisted joke from destiny itself. To show you that indeed, your 'curse' would always be your downfall. Because no matter how many times you'd been there before, watching yet another loved one being buried, you still never expected it.

A fool's hopeless dreams. Like a firefly chasing a shooting star. Always looking up for the brighter days only to end up in the rainiest ones.

You had always loved rain. But now all your flowers where withering and your plant pots were overflowing, because as much as water can nurture, it can also destroy when it has nowhere else to go.

Mourning sometimes led people to the strangest places. Some would start swearing they could hear their loved one voice calling for them in their home, in the street. Some would even see them. And you couldn't help but wish this paranoia to yourself, because ever since Kaeya was gone, there was a simple and unending cycle of silence. No matter how much time you wasted waiting for something to happen during the late nights awake, you were never blessed by his faint presence again, created by a mind affected by delusions.

And so, with trembling hands you decided to dial Kaeya's number again. Like it had been on instinct, a habit too difficult to let go of. You heard the familiar ringtone as you took comfort in it. Slowly trying to delude yourself that things were still the same, that Kaeya was somewhere simply busy with work and he would call you back in a few minutes.

But the call was unexpectedly picked up. You wondered whether someone else already had his number, and you couldn't help but be angry, because how could they? But it wasn't their fault. Instead, you decided to speak as if it was Kaeya there, on the other side.

"Why?" You asked. Why did you have to leave? Why did you accept to go on that trip? Why didn't you stay when I asked you to? There were many questions you wished to ask, but knew you'd probably never hear the answer to.

"Uh… shouldn't I have picked up?"

The other person in the line suddenly says, their voice cheerful and so painfully familiar. You wondered if there was anyone else in the world that could have his voice, and now that you paid attention to it, you could hear his calm breathing through the phone, the same one that you used to hear when you'd call each other late at night only to sleep 'together'.

It seemed almost impossible to be him, but this time you wished to fool yourself just a little bit.

"Kaeya?"

And you can swear you hear his quiet chuckle, the one he always did when you said something silly.

"Yes, it's me."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x gn!reader #genshin angst #diluc x reader #diluc angst #kaeya x reader #kaeya angst

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oscarseyebrow · 1 year

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Hurricane: Chapter One

Pairings: din djarin x force sensitive female reader Rating: explicit. 18+ (later chapters will contain explicit smut) Word count: 9k Warnings: canon typical violence, mention of death of enemies, description of injury, reader being captured, slow burn, enemies to lovers. later chapters will include pregnancy and a brief mention of the death of a parent. A/N: while being on a hiatus, i decided to rewrite this fic as it had completely changed direction from where i began and i wasn't happy with it. i hope you all enjoy the new version as much as i've enjoyed writing it again and this time, i will tell the end of their story! i also want to give the biggest shoutout to @the-scandalorian for your time, your patience and your constant support. thank you for being the best beta and a wonderful friend 💖 Series masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Heavy boots pound relentlessly, their rhythmic thuds echoing through the twisted, uneven terrain of the forest. They never falter or break their stride, propelling you forward. Each step interrupts the eerie calls of creatures in the night, a cacophony of sounds that sends shivers down your spine. Like sinister fingers, the branches snap, scrape, and snag, viciously clawing at your clothing and skin as you desperately try to outrun your pursuer.

He’s close. Closer than ever before.

This is what it has come down to, a deadly game of cat and mouse, an unrelenting chase where every move determines your fate. Time had become a blur, lost to the dark abyss that had inked over your surroundings long before you ventured into it. The very darkness you hoped would grant you cover now seems to conspire against you, mocking your latest attempt to slip away unnoticed.

Over the months, you had encountered many hunters on your trail. At first, it had seemed almost effortless to elude them. Your abilities granted you an undeniable advantage—speed, agility, and an unwelcome connection to the Force. None of them had stood a chance against you; their end had come before they even knew what was happening.

But this hunter was different, tenacious and unyielding in his pursuit. He closes the gap with every twist and turn, narrowing the distance between you. Your name, once a mere whisper in the wind, now reverberates with an ominous promise as he tracks you to your last known location.

His strength is palpable, his determination unbreakable. And now, here you are—heart pounding in your chest, consumed by a single instinct: to run. You push against your limits, desperately seeking an escape from the predator hot on your heels.

A red, searing spark slices through the darkness, a fleeting flash from a blaster. The acrid scent of burnt air mingles with the sound of splintering bark, a tree beside you left scarred in its wake. Instinctively, you tuck into a tight roll, narrowly evading the next shot.

A bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The fine line between life and death stretches taut before you, and you refuse to grant him the satisfaction of being the one to sever it.

You’re back up on your feet as another surge of raw energy courses through your veins. Each stride is a calculated leap, nimble and agile, clearing any obstacles that threaten to halt you in your tracks. The thicket becomes denser, the branches clawing at your flesh with renewed vengeance, as if conspiring to slow your progress and grant him the upper hand. Yet, you continue in silence, the wave of adrenaline numbing your senses, shielding you from the pain of their grip.

Finally, when your feet clear an uprooted tree, you deliberately drop to the ground. Fingers gripping your blaster tightly, the safety disengaged, you force your racing breaths to slow.

In the stillness that envelops the darkened forest, you listen intently, attuning your senses to the silence around you. You push beyond the pounding of your heart, further still, and that’s where you notice it. An absence of sound. The weighty silence settles like a suffocating blanket, shrouding both predator and prey. The thunderous thud of his heavy boots has ceased, mirroring the stillness of your own.

Pressing your back against the rough bark of a fallen tree, you draw a deep breath, steeling yourself. This is who you are, a fighter, a survivor. You’re equipped with the skills to get out of this situation—you had been taught well under the Empire.

For a fleeting moment, you close your eyes. The world around you teems with vibrant life; pulsates with an energy you can’t resist. You tap into it, harnessing the power that had gotten you into this whole mess.

Given the situation, it’s difficult to focus, but still, you try. You reach out in an attempt to grasp any help the Force has to offer. Despite the struggle, you find what you’re looking for—a flickering presence that doesn’t belong here—The Mandalorian.

Suddenly, a sound breaks the silence—a rustle, a snapping twig—your gaze darts toward the opposite direction from where you had sensed him. It seems too distant to be him. Could the Force have misguided you? Was it possible for the Force to be wrong? It had been so long since you were able to use it properly, to truly call upon your connection to it…maybe you weren’t interpreting it correctly.

You ignore the guidance offered to you through the Force and place your trust solely in your surroundings. Deep down, you know he’s close. Yet, you dismiss the pull of your gut instinct and opt to slip away.

It’s now or never.

Your body presses low to the ground while you move silently. Damp leaves and thick mud cling to your front. Every sense in your body sharpens—the scent of the mossy ground beneath you, the sting of sweat mingling with the scrapes on your skin. Your entire being fixates on survival, pausing for a second to reach out to the Force again to check your surroundings.

Nothing. There are no sounds that don’t belong to the eerie symphony of the darkened forest—no thundering beskar, no trace of movement or breath. Absolute stillness. Slowly, you rise, surveying the moonlit area for a moment before you propel yourself toward a narrow gap between two gnarled trees.

Freedom beckons, so tantalizingly close. Just a few more strides, and it would be right there, within your grasp.

Then, it happens.

It hits you with the force of a cataclysmic collision, expelling all of the air from your lungs. The Mandalorian emerges from behind the tree, anticipating the impact, his solid frame poised to absorb the force of your body hurtling toward him. For just a split second, there’s a feeling of complete weightlessness before you collide with the ground. You’re down, but not defeated. Swiftly shifting your weight to the left, you avoid his grasp and deliver a quick kick to his knee, causing him to crash down beside you.

Synchronized movement unfolds, an intricate dance of opponents keenly aware of each other’s every move. You fire first, only for him to dart out of the way with a lightning-quick dodge, your shot barely grazing the corner of his chest plate. The ricochet momentarily shatters your focus, panic creeping into your core as you begin to grapple with the consequences of your misjudged shot, while the Mandalorian seems to register surprise at your near hit.

Undeterred, he launches once more, but you’re too quick. You take evasive action, executing a roll, your fist connecting flawlessly with the side of his ribs as you raise again. He’s winded. His modulated groan reverberates in the air and allows you a second to recover. But he’s not far behind. Now back on your feet, you parry his relentless attacks, the rhythm of the battle pulsating between you.

Neither relenting nor yielding, every fibre of your being fights for your survival while he fights for credits that will no doubt buy his next meal. This can’t be how it ends for you. You’ve endured too much to be taken down by a mere bounty hunter.

Grunts and groans puncture the air as blows land on both sides. His attacks are measured and deliberate, his reach surpassing yours. But you’re much quicker. Amidst the chaos, you sidestep his lunging assault, seizing his arm and leveraging the momentum to hurl his heavy frame to the ground. You’re almost proud of yourself until he retaliates and sweeps your legs from beneath you. Gravity pulls you down once more, your head colliding with his armour and causing an explosive burst of light to engulf your vision.

Your focus wanes, slipping from your grasp. You blink, once, twice, and then he has you.

“Stop fighting,” he demands, breathless yet commanding, as he pins you to the ground and traps your arms with his knees.

At that moment, you note the stark contrast between his voice and your expectations. He sounds different. His voice is devoid of emotion, yet soft. Distorted, yet strangely velvety. Gasping for air to desperately refill your lungs, you both engage in a silent struggle, your eyes fixating on the impenetrable visor of his helmet. It reveals nothing and yet you can sense it, the energy radiating from within. He holds no satisfaction in completing this job. After the relentless chase, you expected a triumphant gloat to be concealed within that mental shell. But it’s not.

Tilting your head away from his gaze, your fingers strain where they’re pinned to your sides. You have a vibroblade, nestled securely in the strap around your thigh. The tips of your trembling fingers brush the handle, its coldness a stark contrast against your clammy palm.

“Fuck you,” your words escape in a breathy whisper as you launch your next desperate attack, but it’s anticipated and effortlessly countered. The last thing you see is his helmet descending upon you, followed by a resounding thud. Darkness falls, consuming all your senses.

The cat has caught the mouse.

***

A gentle swaying motion and a caressing breeze coax you back to consciousness. In that fleeting moment, you could be anywhere–weightless atop the tranquil surface of a serene lake, bathed in the warmth of the sun. It kisses your skin, filling you with a sense of serenity you rarely experience these days. It has been an eternity since you felt such freedom, devoid of burdens. In this relaxed, suspended state, you are liberated, free. If you were to extend your fingertips, you could almost feel the cool water cascading over them, your body gently rocking in its embrace.

And so, you reach out, anticipating the familiar sensation. But instead, an icy chill seizes your hand, a sudden heaviness grips your being, and your limbs refuse to respond. Panic surges, robbing you of the tranquil calm that had momentarily embraced you. A searing pain lances through your side, jolting you awake.

Gasping, your eyes snap open as you struggle to make sense of your disorientated surroundings. Gone is the water, the lake, the radiant sunlight. Instead, you find yourself suspended upside down, a tattered cape fluttering behind the imposing figure of heavy boots.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Fuck.

You’re alive, but your freedom is gone. Your hands are bound, your body hoisted unceremoniously over a rigid shoulder. You have a choice to make: do you submit and face your fate or continue the fight? You’re exhausted, your body bruised and aching…do you have anything left in you to fight?

This can’t be the end.

With gritted teeth, you clasp your hands together, summoning every ounce of strength you have left. They fall upon the man’s back with a resounding force, a desperate attempt to break free from his grip. Yet, his armoured form barely registers the impact, beskar shielding him from the brunt of your attack.

“Put me down!” Your voice is cracked and dry but overflowing with defiance as you writhe and strain against his strong grip.

He tightens against your struggles. It’s the only response you get and you find it ignites a new flame of determination from your darkest depths. You shift your weight, aiming to unbalance him. For a moment, you think it works. He staggers, offset by your attempt but whether through your own effort or his loss of patience, he eventually drops you to the ground in a graceless heap.

It’s then that the full extent of your exhaustion becomes clear: muscles ache, bones protest, and the pulsating throb in your head spreads outwards to the point you find yourself closing your eyes and applying pressure to the area where the Mandalorian had headbutted you.

The asshole. If you were to survive this night, you knew there would be a shining bruise there come the morning.

You attempt to push yourself up to your knees, hoping to make it to your feet. It’s not to be. A mud-coated boot gives you the smallest shove and you end up rolling onto your back, defeated once again.

You close your eyes, attempting to steady your breathing amidst the waves of pain. When you open them once more, you find him standing above you, his head slightly tilted against the backdrop of twinkling stars. This isn’t the time for distractions, but you can’t help noticing the way his beskar illuminates beneath the reflective glow of the moonlight.

“I can bring you in warm…” his voice breaks the silence, presenting the first option to you before taking a deliberate pause. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

His hand gestures toward the ominous presence of his blaster, and right beside it, tucked into his belt, is your own. Moments tick by, and he remains motionless above you, an enigmatic statue frozen in time.

Without a single word, your decision is made evident as you sit up. The Mandalorian reaches down, his gloved hand gripping your wrist restraints, and effortlessly hoists you to your feet. He leads the way, his strides pulling you along until you fall into step beside him, surveying your surroundings. The forest is now all but gone from sight in the darkness, and you see that you’re closer to the outskirts of town.

You trudge across the uneven terrain, contemplating the different outcomes that await you. None of them are hopeful. One thing is clear in every scenario: you can’t outrun or outfight this bounty hunter. So where does that leave you? A surge of frustration courses through you, angered by the situation you have allowed yourself to fall into. Anger bubbles beneath the surface, and so, you unleash your next attack with words instead of actions.

“Did they send you to do the job the others couldn’t?” you ask. “How many did it take before they brought you out? Five? Six? I lose count of how many I’ve had to kill.”

Still, he remains silent as your steady voice taunts, probing for a reaction. He refuses to give you the satisfaction of acknowledgement. His message is clear: you’re wasting your breath.

Undeterred, you press on, uncaring whether he answers or not, “Did they have families? Were they your friends?”

Nothing. Resolute silence.

It only angers you more. You twist your arms, attempting to free your restraints from his grasp as you pull away from him in a bid for freedom. The man follows, his muscles tensing beneath the armour to keep his grip on you as you fight against him and finally show the first cracks of panic.

“I swear to the Maker and all the Gods above, as soon as I get out of these restraints, I’ll make you regret every second of this. Do you hear me?”

If he does, he doesn’t answer you, so you raise your voice, “I said do you fucking hear me?”

“Yes, I fucking hear you,” he grits and pulls your body closer to prevent you from flailing around.

He’s frustrated, you can feel it. It oozes from him like a thick, suffocating smog. There’s a moment of silence between you and he chooses to wait, allowing you a few seconds to calm down before he speaks again.

“I’m not the only one looking for you, but I am the only one willing to take you in alive. So are you going to let me get us out of here, or are you betting on your survival against the other hunters with your hands bound and no weapons?”

You despise the way his voice calms you. You want to fight, want to pull free and run in any direction possible. But there’s something that keeps you there, your eyes trained on his visor as you look for any hint of the man beneath the opaque glass. This is about survival, and being captured alive gives you a lot more options than being brought in dead.

You hate to admit it, but he’s your best option right now.

No more words are exchanged for the remainder of the journey. The crunch of gravel beneath your boots announces your arrival at the town’s entrance. A palpable silence blankets the air, unsettling in its weight. The energy shifts inexplicably, and both you and the Mandalorian tense in response. His grip on your restraints tightens, his hidden gaze scouring the surroundings, mirroring your own vigilance as you search every corner, every shadow.

With each step you take through the small town, windows shutter and people retreat from the streets. You swallow, feeling a sense of warning through the Force. And then you see it—the swift leap from one rooftop to another. This time, you’re the fortunate one, reacting swiftly. Your hands twist, seizing the bounty hunter’s wrist and yanking him out of harm's way as blaster bolts rain down upon you.

Why are you saving his life when he is so willing to hand you over for someone to sacrifice yours? It’s a clear calculation—he needs you alive, fighting with him instead of against him. This is how you both get out of here, alive. It’s a mutual understanding as you drag him to safety between two buildings.

Everything seems to happen in a blur, time accelerating rather than decelerating as it had in the forest. He releases his hold on you, shielding your defenceless form with his own body as a blaster bolt ricochets off his armour. Before you have a chance to react, his blaster is in his hand and he shoots down the attacker from the roof.

You turn, catching sight of another hunter charging toward you. With your hands bound, your only option is to rely on your perfect timing as you deliver a swift kick to the front of his knee and destabilize him with a sickening crunch of bone. It’s followed by a loud scream of agony as he doubles over, right into an uppercut from your restraints which sends him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you see the Mandalorian occupied with three other hunters. Now is the moment, and without any hesitation, you flee in the opposite direction.

Your footsteps echo loudly between the tall buildings, alerting those close by of your location. It’s not a smart move, goes against all of your training, but desperation propels you forward. Your path weaves through the labyrinth of twisting streets and finally, you pause, finding a temporary hiding place to catch your breath.

The pain continues to pound inside of your head, everything becoming so loud; blaster shots across the street; the yells of the pursuers being taken down by the Mandalorian. If they’ve found you this easily, you know those who work at Moff Gideon’s command won’t be far behind. Up until now, you’ve been able to play it smart, always staying one step ahead of them all. But your first mistake is proving likely to be your last.

You need to calm down. Breathe. Focus.

Every nerve ending in your body seems to come alive–you have to go, you have to run. The Force all but screams it at you, encouraging you to slip out into the street once more and take off in a slightly different direction. Swiftly taking a right turn, you hear the resounding crack of a blaster shot pierce the air. You veer left, evading two more shots. A body plummets from a nearby building, their weapon sliding along the ground. You react on instinct as you thrust out your bound hands and use your pull through the Force to snatch it into your grasp in one fluid motion. Though you’re not at the best advantage to aim, you find a way to make it work.

Gunfire and thudding sound through the streets as you engage in a fierce battle, skillfully manoeuvring through the chaos, instinctively ducking and sprinting at precisely the right moments. This isn’t a mere stroke of luck or chance–it’s a testament to your abilities, the Force, a result of countless encounters you’ve faced throughout your life.

Once again, silence descends, and you become acutely aware of your ragged breaths as you struggle against your burning lungs. You don’t have long. Seconds, maybe. You sense the Mandalorian’s energy drawing nearer. You sense him to your right, searching the street parallel to your own. Pushing a little further through the Force, you should be able to pinpoint the precise source of his energy, but you don’t have time. He seems close enough for this to work.

You step out, blaster aimed, expecting to come face-to-face with him at the exact moment you both step out into the open.

Except, he’s not there.

“What…” you breathe.

Confusion clouds your focus as your eyes dart around, desperately trying to calculate how you got it wrong. You were so sure you had the advantage, so certain of his location and the speed at which he was moving. Not once had it occurred to you that he may have also known your exact location, waiting for you to make the first move.

“No…” one simple whisper slips from you, laced heavily with dread as the beskar-clad figure emerges from the shadows.

He quickly disarms you, throwing your new-found blaster aside as his chest rises and falls in sync with your own accelerated breaths.

“Nice try,” his voice holds a hint of smugness at your apparent disbelief.

He readjusts his grip on your restraints, tugging forcefully and causing you to stumble as you dig your heels in, desperately attempting to resist his pull. Undeterred, he continues striding forward.

“I saved your life,” you try. “You owe me.”

Silence.

The rhythmic thudding of his boots is your only reply.

“I’ll take you to other bounties. I know where to find them,” you try bargaining. “You’ll get payment for food and fuel, and you’ll have more credits than you’ll ever be able to spend.”

He doesn’t appear to be interested. Your attempts are a complete waste of time.

“Please…” Your tone softens in your attempt to appeal to him without the bullshit. “Please don’t take me in. You have no idea what they do to people like me.”

He says nothing.

***

Underneath the scorching sun, a day of silence stretches out before you. Mando, as you have taken to calling him, pauses only briefly at a roadside vendor to buy a drink for you, his caution preventing him from staying any longer than necessary. Now that other hunters have caught wind of your whereabouts, he insists on keeping a low profile…as low as a shiny tin-can-of-a-man is able to.

As the day wears on, the sun gradually descends towards the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the landscape. With each agonizing step, the fatigue in your feet intensifies, while the searing pain in your wrists serves as a constant reminder that you need to find a way out of your restraints. If Mando harbours any concerns for your well-being, he conceals it well. But then again, why would he care? To him, you’re nothing more than a contract that promises credits.

Throughout the day, you find your thoughts wandering to who exactly he will be delivering you to. Will it be the New Republic? The notorious Bounty Hunters’ Guild? Or perhaps he would hand deliver you to Moff Gideon himself.

Somehow, you doubt the latter.

You walk together until the land becomes vast and barren with very few discernable landmarks in sight. It’s here that Mando comes to an abrupt halt, catching you off guard. Towering boulders provide convenient cover, but more importantly, smaller rocks offer a place to sit and rest after hours of relentless walking. He turns his head slowly, surveying the area and once satisfied there are no immediate threats, he finally turns to look at you. Despite not being able to see his eyes, you feel his gaze from behind the inky-black visor. His eyes fix you in place while he decides his next move carefully.

“We’ll wait it out here until dark.”

It’s a logical decision and one that resonates with familiarity. You understand it far too well, slipping away under the cover of darkness, hoping to evade detection. With a slight nod of your head, you silently show your understanding.

Exhaustion weighs heavily on you as you finally ease yourself down to rest on one of the weathered rocks. Every muscle protests, throbbing with aches in places you never knew existed. The events of the past day have taken an undeniable toll on you, leaving you feeling as though decades have been added to your battered and bruised body.

“Do you think you could remove these for a little while?” you ask, a touch of vulnerability lacing your words.

Mando subtly shifts his weight. It offers a glimmer of hope, a sign of the smallest crack in his resolve. You maintain the helpless facade, testing the waters a little more.

“Where would I go? We’re in the middle of nowhere and I’m too exhausted to fight you. Even if I tried to run, you’d catch me before I took a single step away from this rock.”

You feel his conflict, and while your lips desperately long to curl into a smirk, you force yourself to frown deeply and wince while flexing your fingers slowly. There’s no faking the hiss of discomfort that follows when the metal bites a little deeper into the raw skin beneath the bindings.

“Fine,” he sighs. “But try anything and you’ll be back in these until I hand you over…got it?”

You nod. Mando doesn’t move. He’s waiting for you to say it. You find yourself gritting your teeth as you bite back any snide remark that begs to claw its way out: he won’t be able to get you back in these things once you are out of them. But you play along, letting him feel as though he has the upper hand here while you bide your time.

“I understand.”

Mando steps close enough to you to work on releasing the binders from your wrists. His presence becomes palpable. You smell the scent of the forest intertwined within the threads of fabric beneath his armour; the subtle fragrance of the well-worn leather of his gloves, a testament to the countless battles he must have fought. Beneath his flack vest, a faint musk clings to his skin, a lingering trace of his relentless pursuit. In a different situation, this combination of smells would be alluring, drawing you closer with a desire for familiarity and comfort. But in your current predicament, they serve only as a reminder of your capture.

A prickling sensation tingles across the broken skin that had been hidden beneath the unforgiving grip of the binders. The gentle touch of the evening breeze carries a coolness that both soothes and aggravates the tender area. As Mando stands before you, there’s an unexpected pause, almost as though he contemplates the discomfort that has been his doing. His gaze lingers for a fleeting moment, revealing a flicker of empathy. You watch him with interest, seeing a glimpse into the depths of his guarded nature. And then he remembers himself: he retreats into his stoic demeanour and turns away from you to settle onto a rock across from yours.

Only slivers of daylight remain as the final light of the day starts to give way to night. You know you’re on very limited time: once the sun completely descends and darkness falls, you’ll be on the move again. You have to do what you can to make yourself valuable enough to save. This isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself captured; you know how this works.

“So, you’re a Mandalorian?” you begin.

Your question carries across to Mando and you watch the way his helmet tilts ever so slightly, showing that you have his attention.

“It’s not often you see Mandalorians these days…I’ve only ever met one before. Very different to you, though. Whew, she was a talker.”

“You’ve met others like me?” Mando asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Hook, line and sinker.

“Only once…” you trail off, observing the way he hangs on your every word. “At one time, she was very powerful. She had a whole following of Mandalorians. But…things happened and her followers found a new leader–don’t worry, she was still alive when I left…a great fighter, though. You Mandalorians sure are equipped with some fancy accessories.”

“Who is she?”

At this, you simply smile at him and shrug a little before turning your head away, pretending to lose interest in the conversation that he has fully immersed himself into.

“I’m afraid that information stays with me,” you confirm and then glance back over at him with your follow-up. “Whether I take it with me to my grave is up to you.”

***

They had found you.

Following a brief respite and hours of relentless travel shrouded in darkness, the hunters had, at last, closed in on your location as the first faint glimmers of daybreak began to paint the horizon.

Your boots pound through the dew-covered grass as Mando’s footfalls echo in sync with yours, an urgent rhythm as you both try to put as much distance as possible between yourselves and the chaos that unfurls behind you. The ship is so close. A beacon of hope in the early morning sunlight, its gleaming exterior promising escape.

A rapid beeping pierces the air, growing in intensity with each passing second. You know exactly what that is, and so does Mando. There’s a split second of shared recognition of the impending danger, and in a swift, instinctive motion, he propels his body towards yours. The impact takes you down to the ground, his sturdy frame protecting you just in time as the explosion reverberates through the air and unleashes a powerful shockwave. Mando’s armour absorbs the brunt of the debris, shielding you from it. As soon as it passes, his body is gone, allowing you to regain your bearings.

It’s hard to focus. Your ears ring, your head swims. Somewhere amidst the muffled chaos, you hear Mando’s voice, urgent and commanding. Time seems to stretch on, distorting reality as you blink and shake your head in a desperate attempt to clear your brain and focus.

“Come on!” Mando yells.

With a determined effort, you push yourself up onto your knees, only to feel a firm grip on your hand. One of Mando’s gloved hands clasps yours, pulling you upright again. The strength of his grip steadies you, allowing you to find your balance.

“Take this,” Mando pushes something cold and heavy into your hand. You drop your eyes to see your blaster and even in your disorientated state, it’s a surprise. “Now run for the ship. Run!”

One last burst of energy, that’s all you have to give. With a nod, you wrap your hand securely around your blaster and start your sprint for safety. Blaster bolts pierce the air around you, crackling and pinging on impact with the ship as they ricochet in every direction.

The Mandalorian follows your trail of disturbed grass. His pace is slower–hindered by the shots he turns to fire at the hunters–but he’s not too far behind. He’s close enough to deploy the ramp, within distance to shout for you to take cover and as he thunders up behind you, he fires a few more shots to slow them down.

“Take down as many as you can,” he gets out between his ragged breaths. “Then hit this button when I say—it will close the ramp as we take off.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving you alone, staring at the button for the ramp.

Time seems to slow as you stand there, torn between the decisions you have to make: do you stay and trust this man to help you, or do you jump out as you close the ramp? He wouldn’t be able to stop you during take-off.

A heavy frown clouds your features, intertwined deeply with conflicting emotions. The Mandalorian has gotten you this far. He has kept his word of protecting you. Were you going to betray him after he had quite literally put his life on the line to save yours?

Your trembling fingers rest against the button, ready for your cue to press it.

Who were you kidding? You’re not going to press it.

You’re not conflicted. You owe this man nothing.

A third plan forms in your head and you draw in a slow breath as a flicker of determination sparks a new fire deep inside of you. This is self-preservation. It isn’t personal.

His command travels through the hatch from the cockpit, his instruction clear as the engines rumble their signal of take-off.

“Press it now!”

You don’t.

You stand and watch the hunters approaching, almost close enough for you to execute this plan.

“It’s not working!” you lie, edging your words with a beautiful act of panic. “I’m pressing it, and nothing is happening!”

Within seconds, boots thud overhead and then a blur of beskar jumps down through the hatch. Mando makes no use of the ladder in his hurry.

“What do you mean, it’s not working?”

The stakes are high. You have one shot at this and you can’t fuck it up.

“I’m pressing it and nothing is happening!”

Mando steps closer to the panel as you take a small step to the side, creating the perfect line-up of his body with the ramp. Your decision has been made, fueled by desperation and the hope that, in the end, this would all be worth it.

You draw in another steady breath and let it out slowly, focusing on the hunters as they approach, waiting for just the right moment as Mando’s thumb hovers over the button.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly.

His helmet snaps around to face you. You don’t need to see beneath his visor to understand the exact moment the disbelief hits him.

He has no time to react. With the hardest kick you can manage, you send him tumbling down the ramp and into the clutches of the hunters below.

***

It doesn’t take long before you bring the ship down into a controlled landing. The hisses and whirs are accompanied by your muttered curse as you sigh and rest your head back against the pilot’s chair. There’s a sense of regret forcing its way in. You know deep down that returning to the room you have spent weeks hiding out in is a gamble. You’re risking everything to come back here. But you can’t leave without what little belongings you have left. Their worth outweighs the danger. They hold more than material value; they hold the key to your survival, the last traces of your past. They’re all you have left of your life before and the risk to retrieve them will always seem worthwhile.

With closed eyes, you reach out for the Force, seeking solace and insight. You search for a glimpse of the path that lies ahead, for a warning of any danger that awaits you if you leave the safety of the ship. But as the Force welcomes you, it withholds the answers you need. Instead, it offers something different, something unexpected. A current pulses through your connection, a bright energy that has been absent for so long. It seems as though the Force has chosen to reveal a different path to you and you push further in an attempt to see more.

Another Force user, closer in proximity than you’ve felt since you were a child. Their light is pure, untarnished by the pull of the darkside. Hesitantly, you push yourself up from the chair and look around the cockpit. For now, you’re alone, but there’s a persistent pull that beckons you to search further through the ship.

You don’t have time for this, you remind yourself as you climb down into the hull. There is a very angry Mandalorian looking for you. He would find you and when he did, he would no doubt kill you for what you had done: you crossed him, stole his ship.

No, you were becoming distracted, your connection to the Force seeming to drop like radio static on an out-of-tune channel. You breathe slowly, regaining your focus and allowing the pull to guide you as you come to a set of small doors. Whatever it is you’re able to feel is on the other side, alert and waiting, aware of your presence.

You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting when you hit the button, but you’re taken aback by the large, glossy orb-like eyes that stare up at you. It’s something small, green, and rather peculiar-looking. Large ears perk up and it tilts a small head, curious at the sight of you. You’re not the Mandalorian that owns this ship. You’re not supposed to be here.

The realisation happens like the toppling of dominos and your stomach plummets: a Mandalorian, a Force-sensitive child.

These were the two Moff Gideon had been looking for. They had to be.

What were the chances of finding another Mandalorian bounty hunter with a Force-sensitive child in his care?

You step back, head reeling and heart pounding. This discovery, this child, could be your ticket to redemption, a chance to be welcomed home by Gideon. You can’t deny yourself a moment of envisioning what that would look like, offering the innocent life you’ve stumbled upon as a testament to your unwavering loyalty. You can almost hear his praise, see the way his lips curl into a knowing smile as he opens his arms to you…no.

You would never go back there. You couldn’t.

Panic sets in as the last fragments of your control slip through your fingers. All that’s left is vulnerability, exposed like a raw nerve. You sever your connection to the Force and this child, knowing that nothing good would come of it. You’re losing—the odds are stacked against you and in your panic, you slam your hand repeatedly against the control panel to seal the doors to the cot once more.

You have to go. You have to get as far away from this child as possible, you have to leave behind the last flickering chance of reconciliation with Gideon. The safety of this child outweighs any opportunity for absolution, you know that deep down. It doesn’t make the choice any easier though. It bares down upon you as you flee from the ship, having already wasted too much time.

In the cover of your room, dried mud cracks from your boots, crumbling and joining the tapestry of unidentifiable stains on the floor. You had paid over double the credits for this dismal sanctuary, the owner’s vow of silence now a hollow promise in hindsight. The bounty hunter had tracked you down regardless.

As you pace, the floorboards groan underfoot, protesting the burden of their existence, while the peeling paint on the walls reveals grime and more stains below. You could have chosen a more upscale haven, a place where unsavoury memories weren’t woven into the current lodgings, but anonymity was your greatest ally.

You need to calm down. You have to think about this carefully.

Amidst the storm of panic threatening to engulf you, you have to remind yourself of the important facts. A single close call had shaken your resolve, but you were still clinging to your advantage, a precarious lead in this deadly chase.

Drawing in a deep, measured breath, you quiet the clamour of thoughts echoing through your mind. You sift through the chaos, grasping only those that will serve your survival right now. Everything else, you would deal with later, once safely away from the bounty hunter.

Your pacing ceases. Your hands find solace braced against the small table before you. As you lower your head, your gaze studies the small collection of possessions resting there–a few additional blasters, a clean outfit, and a meticulously crafted helmet. It was a gift, given to you by someone you had cherished deeply; someone you had respected and looked up to.

What would he say if he could see you now?

He had given everything for you. He had taught you, trained you, tried to guide you, and for what? Since his passing, you had chosen every wrong path that strayed so far from his teachings that you could barely recall them these days.

A soft, ragged breath escapes your lips, carrying with it the weight of the situation as you move one of your bruised and blooded hands to rest against your helmet. Oh, how you long for his counsel. You would give anything to hear his wisdom and witness his ability to navigate even the biggest problems with unerring precision. Deep down, you know what he would say. Keep fighting.

A swift shake of your head brings your focus back into sight and you begin to gather up your belongings. Methodically, they find their place within your bag, which you wear with a wince as it settles into a tender area of your shoulder. Everything you hold dear now fits within a single bag, not counting the arsenal of weaponry you securely fasten into their rightful place. Some had been lost during the chase, but you still had more than enough for another encounter, if one should arise.

With everything you own in tow, you stride toward the door, prepared and determined to escape from the planet and continue your life of being on the run. However, your journey is abruptly halted within a second of the door sliding open. Cold beskar collides with you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you’re unceremoniously pinned against the opposite wall, belongings now strewn across the stained floor. Your hands desperately grapple his arm in an attempt to ease some of the pressure restricting your airways. But he doesn’t budge. Mando has learned the hard way, and he refuses to allow you even an inch of movement.

One of his strong arms presses across your collarbones, keeping you in place while the end of his blaster jabs underneath your jaw, causing a cold stillness to settle across your writhing body.

“If you’ve laid even one finger on him…”

The limited space between you is fraught with tension, disturbed only by the sound of the safety catch being disengaged. It’s a noise you’ve heard countless times, but this time, you find yourself beginning to panic as you hear the tone of his voice. It’s devoid of the stoicism you had become familiar with, and instead, it carries an undertone of desperation, an element of urgency that cuts through you and warns you of Mando’s intentions if he doesn’t get the answers he wants.

Your lips part as you try to struggle again, gasping for air so that you can answer him.

“I…I…I can’t…” your voice is strained in your attempt to draw in a breath.

Mando’s arm is suddenly gone, and so is the support of the wall as you’re hurled away from it. Aching bones are met with the abrupt, unwelcoming force of the table as you stumble against the edge of it. Pain explodes from your hip, sending a shockwave through your body and you finally crumple to the floor.

Every muscle tenses, every instinct screams at you to react, but your limbs feel strangely unresponsive as you drink in the precious air, your lungs greedily accepting the offering.

What you first perceived as aggression now takes on an entirely new face as he advances toward you. Fear, palpable and potent. It’s a fear of losing something precious, something that he holds most dear: the child.

“I didn’t touch him!” Your words erupt from you, your own panic saturating your words.

You scramble backward, your hand instinctively extending as a feeble barricade against his approach.

“I didn’t touch him,” you repeat. “He’s safe, I swear. He’s on the ship.”

A heavy silence descends upon the room, tense and thick with contemplation. From behind the visor, you feel Mando’s gaze fixed on you, unwavering and inscrutable. You sense his hesitation and observe the way the tight ball of his first slowly unfurls. This isn’t a man easily deceived, but you think he believes you. He accepts your truth.

He bends and retrieves your helmet from the floor, silently studying it as he turns it in his hands. You wonder if he understands it, if he can sense the triumphs and losses it has seen. His gloved fingers run along the helmet’s contours, feeling the subtle grooves and indentations that give the dark metal its distinctive character.

“Who are you?” Mando finally asks.

His helmet tilts fractionally and you know his eyes are now on you again.

“I’m someone who can take you to Moff Gideon.”

Every muscle in his body freezes at that name. You have him right where you need him, and when all you’re met with is silence, you continue.

“I’ll come with you. I won’t fight you. Then you can decide if you’re going to turn me over…or let me help you. We have a common enemy, Mando, and—”

“Stop talking,” he cuts you off.

“Instead of fighting each other, we can help each other. You want to find him, and we can–”

“There is no we,” his voice is firm.

He leaves no room for misinterpretation as he closes in on you again.

“Give me your hands.”

With a heavy sigh, you hold them out and close your eyes as the binders pinch at the raw skin around your wrists. What did you think he was going to do? You had crossed him, fed him to the wolves and stolen his ship.

He picks your bag up from the floor and hoists it over his shoulder then takes hold of your helmet in one hand, your restraints in the other, and walks you out of the room.

You needed a new plan.

***

The tranquil azure light of hyperspace dances through the hatch from the cockpit, bathing you in the smooth glow. Since your return to the ship, the bounty hunter had spent most of his time up in the cockpit and you welcomed the silence that had settled in his absence. It gave you the space you needed to reflect on the chaotic sequence of events that had led to this moment; you, sitting on the cold, metal floor of the hold with your back against the sealed cargo crates.

There was a lot to think about.

Occasionally, a terse command from the cockpit breaks the silence of the ship. You pick up on words such as “no” and “stop that”, which only seem to be met with coos and soft babbling. The child’s voice, innocent and almost oblivious to the tension that lingers in the air.

During the hours that follow, you drift in and out of uneasy sleep. Each time, fragmented dreams are interrupted by the vessel’s subtle tremors and the soft cadence of Mando’s footsteps as he periodically checks on you. The rhythmic thuds of his boots become almost imperceptible until, at last, he descends from the cockpit once more. With the child asleep above, you can only assume he has time to focus his attention on you again.

You blink, focusing your gaze through the dimly lit hold as you watch him take a seat on the crate across from you.

“Here,” he murmurs and extends a flask toward you.

Bound hands make it challenging, but you manage to take it and consume nearly its entirety in desperate gulps. The cold liquid caresses down your parched throat and helps to soothe the dry, scratchy sensation. You contemplate wiping your mouth on the back of your dirty hands, but upon closer inspection, you pause with the realisation that they are still stained with dirt and blood. Much like your torn and tattered clothes, they bore witness to the battles you’ve endured with the man sitting opposite you.

“Thank you,” you finally speak, voice croaking with the lingering dryness the water hadn’t been able to soothe.

He offers a brief nod and maintains a steady gaze through his visor. You have piqued his interest, despite the way he fights against it.

“Do you have a name?” you ask after a prolonged silence.

“Mando is fine,” comes his reply. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

For the first time since he joined you, you avert your eyes and focus on the wall behind him. By now, you have mastered the art of silence and elusive answers as a way to reveal very little of yourself under interrogation.

“I’ve worked for many people,” you reply flatly.

Mando sighs at the lack of depth to your answer, as if he had expected something a little more from you.

“How did you find other Mandalorians?”

Your gaze returns to him as he asks his next question. He tries to hide his desire for knowledge, and his yearning to discover others of his kind. It resonates with you on a deep level. You understand his desperation, having experienced it yourself. The longing to connect with those who share your story, your origins, your essence. Yet, you’re aware of the harsh reality; the Jedi had mostly been killed and any who survived had vanished. Mandalorians were but a scattered few, their presence so sparse in the galaxy that they barely existed at all.

“As I said,” you shrug and immediately regret it when a sharp pain jolts through your shoulder and upper arm. You desperately try to hide the wince, but it flashes across your face quicker than you’re able to fight it. “I’ve worked for many people.”

He sighs heavily. You know this man is smart enough to know when he is fighting a losing battle. You’re tired, you’re hungry and there’s not an area of your body that doesn’t ache. You’re in no mood for his questions.

Mando moves to stand, his own groan of discomfort audible through the static of his modulator. You’ve both taken quite the beating and you can’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction that you’re not the only one struggling.

“Do you…” He begins and then trails off as though still processing his next question. “Do you want to get cleaned up?”

That was quite unexpected.

You raise your eyebrows slowly, suspicious of his endgame. It’s almost as if he picks up on your hesitation because he quickly clarifies.

“I’ll go back up into the cockpit. You can use this area…and the fresher is right there,” he nods in the direction of a small opening in the corner.

“I…uh,” your eyes dart back over to him, still somewhat suspicious. “That would be great…thank you?”

You’re not entirely sure why it comes out as a question. With an edge of hesitation, you twist yourself just enough to hook your arm over the top of the crate so you can use it to pull yourself back up to your feet.

“Could you take these off?”

You hold up your hands, bringing your binders into view. This time, it’s Mando who hesitates. His helmet has a subtle tilt while he considers your question and your previous actions.

“No,” he states firmly.

“No? How do you expect me to clean up when I can’t use my hands?”

He shrugs. He stares straight at you and shrugs.

“I warned you not to make me regret taking them off last time.”

Your stare hardens into a glare so fierce, you’re almost sure it could melt his precious beskar armour. The tension in your jaw sets your teeth into a tight clench as your fingers unintentionally begin to curl into fists. He sees your festering frustration and chooses to defuse it.

“You see that?” Mando asks and points to something over your shoulder. You turn your head slowly, spotting the carbonite chamber over the far side of the hold. “That’s where you’ll end up if you so much as think about pulling another stunt like you did earlier. Consider yourself lucky you’re standing here with your wrists bound. Get cleaned up or don’t, the choice is yours.”

You say nothing. It takes every fraction of your control not to laugh at that. Lucky? You’re far from lucky right now.

You want to get cleaned up, you really do. But your stubbornness keeps you rooted to the spot, your eyes continuing to burn a hole through the front of his visor to keep him on edge. You’re unpredictable, he knows that. It’s how you have managed to slip through so many attempted captures. So while you understand his need to protect himself and the child while you’re on his ship, it doesn’t stop you from being pissed off about it.

Still holding your silence, you cross to the fresher and turn to close the door. There is no door. All that sits on the wall is a broken control panel, the functional buttons long gone.

You sense his heavy gaze lingering on you as you turn on the water and watch the way it cascades over your fingers, a brief respite to wash away the layers of dirt and dried blood caking your skin. Glancing up, you meet your reflection in the small mirror, and a heavy sigh escapes your lips. The evidence of the gruelling confrontation is marked across your skin in the form of vivid, darkening bruises. Scratches, trophies of your frantic battle amongst the branches, streak across your cheeks.

You try to cup the water, attempting to bring some relief to your battered face, but each attempt fails. The water slips through the gaps in your bound hands, unable to keep hold of it in their limited position. Your frustration snaps as you slam your hands down against the small sink. Simultaneously, an agonising surge of pain courses through your arm, causing a small cry to escape you before you’re able to muffle it. Everything about this is humiliating. He stands watching you, a silent witness to your struggle.

You should have fought harder. To the death, if you had to. You had given in too easily and allowed yourself to be captured. What would Gideon say if he could see you now? Something tells you that you won’t need to wait long to find out. Once Mando hands you over, he will find you.

“Here, let me help,” Mando’s voice–albeit softer now–startles you from the small doorway.

“Why?” you snap. “So you can feel better about yourself? So I can thank you for taking care of me after you fucking captured me?”

You don’t give him time to answer. His silences are too long and you’re done with them.

“You did this,” you shove him with your other arm, causing him to stumble back a couple of steps from the doorway. “You did this. You asshole. You fucking asshole. You should have put me in carbonite and been done with it! You…You…”

You reach to shove his chest again but this time, he grabs hold of your hands and keeps them pressed against his chestplate.

“You asshole,” your voice cracks.

The wind has been taken out of your sails and your head lowers, defeated.

“Are you done?” he asks, his voice still calm and quiet.

Your silence is the only answer he gets and when you don’t pull away from him, he lowers your hands and releases your binders. Not for the first time that day, your senses are filled with him. You think you would be able to identify his smell anywhere now; well-worn leather, polished armour, a musk on his skin. It takes you back to hours earlier, when he had first removed your binders and stood so close to you.

“Can I see your shoulder?”

You nod and help him with removing your shoulder pauldrons. He takes each one in his gloved hands and places them down carefully, treating them with the respect he would show the pieces of his own armour. Each time, he waits for you. He keeps his hands at a respectful distance while you unclasp your shirt. He turns his helmet to allow you some modesty as you slowly slip your arm free so he’s able to feel around the area when you tell him he can.

No further words are exchanged. He simply follows your lead, as though he is beginning to learn your movements. He has studied you, memorised your fighting pattern, and watched your decision-making processes. In the hours you have spent together, both in and out of combat, he has started piecing together the parts of you he has seen.

He removes his dirty gloves and sets them down beside your pauldrons. With your eyes still lowered, you note the inky tones of his bruised knuckles and the way his fingers flex almost nervously at being exposed under your gaze. It’s the first part of him that you have seen, the first glimpse of the person beneath all of his armour.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

Very slowly, he moves his hands toward your shoulder and it catches you off guard. It’s not his actions that surprise you but rather the warmth of his touch as his fingers gently seek out the tender area he had seen you struggling with earlier. Everything about him had been cold and frigid; his voice, his posture, his overall demeanour…yet his warmth, unexpectedly coursing through his touch, reminds you of his humanity.

A hiss escapes your lips as your breath catches when his thumb applies pressure to the most sensitive point, coaxing an involuntary flinch from you.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to apologise. “Try and keep still. I need to feel around this area.”

The cold that radiates from his beskar is a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands and despite the discomfort they cause when he moves your arm slowly to assess the movement you have, his touch is not unwelcome on your skin.

No. You have to stop that thought right there.

“I can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem like anything is broken. Could be a torn muscle. It’s probably going to be tender for a few days.”

You nod, signalling your understanding as he helps you to slip your arm back into your shirt. Your mind bounces between the way his hands felt, the warmth they brought to your skin, and the way he had mentioned a ‘few days’ so casually in his assessment of your shoulder.

Did that mean there was still a chance for you to make yourself valuable enough to not hand over?

“I’ll leave you to get cleaned up. Do you…do you want some soup?”

You can’t help yourself. You lift your gaze, unable to hide the half-amused, half-confused expression from your face. This is a funny little dynamic you have going on, one of threatening violence and offering soup. At this, you begin to smile.

“Soup would be great.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #hurricane series

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fukashiin · 1 year

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"spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me."

— w. floyd leech.

a/n: THIS IS FOR MY PRECIOUS MOOTIE PATOOTIE @tinyletterz !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY REMY I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH. IM SO INDESCRIBABLY HAPPY TO BE YOUR MUTUAL, AND I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS TINY BIRTHDAY GIFT!!! i also want to thank you for having reblogged more than half of my works already, it means so much to me. <3

floyd has been waiting for the past 30 minutes already. how long are you going to make him wait?

the green dot accompanied next to his magicam icon keeps reappearing, and disappearing. the mug of hot chocolate on his bedside table starts to get cold in the presence of your absence, so he peacefully resorts to gazing out at the night sky, watching the clouds as they sail by like a boat on the raging currents. there's no solid explanation as to why this feels all so familiar to him.

but he remembers.

the memory crackles like a single firecracker that he used to play with you near the sea coast. the overhead stars that twinkled no less than your eyes did, the booming passion of your voice as you yell at him to chase after you while your dirtied feet tripped over the grainy sand that shimmered with an abundance of sea crystals. he misses you, and it makes his heart throb.

he wonders when you'll finally be online. fresh out of the shower, showing him your precious face that used to dress in his unearthly love of kisses that converts your frowns to everlasting smiles. he wanted to see more, more of your smiles, as if it was his own personal goldmine.

the sudden buzz of his phone brings him back to the here, now, and he sees your caller ID just an inch away. his ankle thuds dully with the side rail of his wooden bed frame, emitting nothing but a groan out of him as he stumbles to pick up the phone. you were just on the other side, a tap closer to hearing your voice. though it may seem worlds apart, he was certain that you were looking up at the same night sky that you both were under.

he picks up, and it was nothing but an awkward silence that befalls the two of you which stretches out for a few moments. yet, once he gets a good measure of your face, he smiles, teeth and all. "there ya are."

"floyd!" how could your heart be so pure? so untainted by just the mere gaze of your boyfriend, who did nothing but love your selfish self for who knows how long? not to mention, you miss the way he smelled of bracing peppermint whenever he was in your line of attention.

and the best thing happened after forever. you talked, and connected your hearts within a rhythm's beat. the more your heart pounded, the more you felt like it was just possible to shoot your arm through the screen and grab ahold of your lover by his collar and kiss him like the warm dreams you've been having ever since you two parted. spurts of electric waves travel between the two of you, and you thought he could never be more prettier. it's cruel, and it weighs heavily on your shoulders.

"...thank you." it's only a moment's notice before he takes in the sight of your sleeping face.

the lingering line of drool at the side of your mouth seems pretty silly to him. and he doesn't take the initiative to hang up. he'll just lay there, watching you through the phone as if you're with him in actuality. and he wishes nothing but for the longevity of your life, and this relationship that speckled of golden flakes within each and every area. he whispers one last thing just before you get dragged into the realms of the darkness.

"I love you, so darn much."

#September 12 is SUCH a pretty birthday!!#happy birthday remy <333 #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech x reader

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throneofsapphics · 1 year

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crucify your lover

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: A frown on your face, you trekked back up the castle, taking a different route. Their eyes would be on you, now that they know. Running is probably the smart thing to do. Run while you can, but … you’ve been running your entire life and you're sick of it. Not this time, you swear to yourself, you won’t run this time.

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, kinda toxic relationships?

A/N: this has been poking at my brain and I had to get it out, not proofread

You’d give anything for them, and you have - for years and years. But, no matter what you do it never seems to be enough. There’s no way for you to compare to them, and they’ve never said it directly but you hear the whispers of others, the whispers of the court.

Why her?

There’s nothing special about her.

If anyone would pay attention, if anyone bothered to ask, they’d realize you keep secrets for a reason. That some powers are better kept buried deep down where no one can touch them. If … if they knew what you could do, mate or not you couldn’t be certain of their reaction.

Such little magic, what a pity.

You seethed with each comment, but kept your emotions perfectly under control. Nobody needed to know, nobody would have to, but the cost of keeping secrets bled your soul. If you could get rid of it - purify yourself of it - you would.

They had … accepted … you, mainly because the bond wouldn’t let them do anything else. Separating the three of you physically would cause pain. But, you kept those barriers up in your mind, kept yourself so damn far away they never guessed. Maybe it’s ridiculous of you to wish they would. Unconditional love, that’s what mates were supposed to be - according to all of the tales and legends you grew up on. Still, watching your people hunted in front of you would change anyone's view of magic.

You never knew exactly what your magic was, not until you had a chance to scour the library of Orynth.

Necromancy.

The word was so ugly to you, but it fit best. All of the records said it was a magic from ancient witches, but you’re Fae, and it made no damn sense to you. Still, every month under the full moon, you made a trek into the forest.

The guise was to have peace to connect with your family, and you always made sure you weren’t followed. Your mates respected you enough to let you do that. Instead, you let loose enough of your magic to keep yourself from exploding. You always wondered what it felt like to others, to you it was the whispers of the trees around you, a warm embrace circling you, the thoughts of the dead brought to life in fragments. You let the magic whirl around you, circling you and letting them tell you their secrets, their confessionals. Blessed by the God of Truth. Your mother said once, before her death. You still hadn’t decided if it was a blessing or a curse.

Something was off with you, Rowan knew that. He’d tried to track you the first few times you left on the full moons, out to hell knows where, but you always slipped his trail. This time, you seemed distracted and something told him to follow, the wind whispered where to find you, where to perch. You didn’t notice a white-tailed hawk in a tree several feet away, and a shield of wind hit his scent.

He watched as you sat down on the log, stretching your legs out in front of you, and gray whispers of … of magic flowed around you in circles.

Beautiful, it was absolutely beautiful. Your eyes closed, palms resting face up, your head tilted back with the moonlight casting a clear vision of your face - how your eyelashes fluttered against your cheek, the lines of your jaw, your hair loose and flowing around your shoulders.

His first emotion was fear - fear that you’d been coming out here every single month alone, and in a vulnerable state. Anyone could get to you like this, and he doesn’t know how your magic works - if it could defend you or if you knew how to use it.

Second, came disbelief. How the hell had you hid your magic from them both for so long? Over a year. As far as he knew you were only able to shield yourself, albeit weakly - the typical traits of Fae. Then - why had you hidden your magic from them? As he watched, as he sensed the type of power flowing from you, he understood exactly why. Still, he was hurt that you couldn’t trust him or Aelin enough to tell them about it. He wondered if you’ve told anyone, if anyone living knows. Gods, Maeve had him hunt down magic-wielders like you in the past. The secrets of the dead were meant to stay dead.

Rowan waited long enough to know you were safe, and headed back towards the castle before taking off. He needed to get to Aelin, to tell her as soon as possible. Even if she would bitch at him for interrupting her sleep.

“You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.” Aelin’s eyes were wide in shock. Rowan glared at her, crossing his arms. “How could she keep it from us, from you?” She couldn’t help the accusatory tone, her mate was known for sniffing out secrets after all. The fact that you’ve been able to keep this from them for so long is impressive and terrifying.

“I don’t know.” He said through gritted teeth. Aelin felt the rollercoaster of emotions going through him - fear, anger, concern, and disbelief. It hadn’t had a chance to set in for her.

“What do we do about it?” She sighed, collapsing back on the couch. “You won’t be able to keep it to yourself,” she raised one brow, but he didn’t deny it.

“We have to tell her we know.” His lips pressed into a tight line.

“How do you think she’ll react?” Aelin questioned.

“If I was her,” he hedged, “I’d run as far as possible.”

Aelin’s heart broke slightly, and his gaze softened. “Think about it,” he murmured, taking a seat next to her. “Magic wielders like her have been hunted for centuries.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Aelin snapped.

“I know,” he soothed, running one hand down her thigh.

“What do you think happened to her family?” The thought popped into Aelin’s head. She knew they were dead, and assumed they likely were killed with several other Fae when Adarlan invaded.

Rowan stiffened next to her, and her gaze snapped to him. His eyes had gone slightly distant, as if he were putting something together. Is it … he said they’ve been hunted for centuries… could Maeve have sent him to do that?

“That’s a question to ask her,” his voice was rough and heavy with emotion. Aelin knew when to push and when to leave it, and for now this is something she would leave alone. For now. Mates are equals, she’s always been told, and if that’s true … that means you’ve been hiding an immense power for a long time. No wonder you disappear every full moon. That or risk yourself exploding. She wants to think she’d take the high and mighty road if she were you, if she had been in your situation, but she’s not certain. The thought makes her uneasy, more than she wants to admit.

You could tell something was off as soon as you returned. Rowan and Aelin were different, they’d eyed you warily - although they hid their emotions well enough. Anyone who wasn’t bonded as closely to them would never notice the difference.

By that evening, it filled you with enough dread that you did something risky and potentially stupid. Carefully watching your tail, double and triple checking for anyone following you, you made your way to the lowest levels of the castle.

A tiny bit of magic flowed from you, discreet enough nobody should notice the shift in the air, and just enough to focus communication - communicate with someone who could give you an answer.

They know. The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t. Vaguely like Aedion, the General’s.

What will they do? You focused on keeping the connection, nearly pleading with the soul or spirit for help.

They won’t kill you. That was not comforting, at all. They will want to speak of it, the rest is up to you.

You thanked them, probably him, for his time, and groaned. Not kill you, speak of it, and the rest is up to you. At least you’ve ruled out your death. A frown on your face, you trekked back up the castle, taking a different route. Their eyes would be on you, now that they know. Running is probably the smart thing to do. Run while you can, but … you’ve been running your entire life and you're sick of it. Not this time, you swear to yourself, you won’t run this time.

“You know,” you said mildly over dinner, slicing unnecessary harshly through a potato, your knuckles white and clenched around the potential weapon. Rowan blinked in surprise, and Aelin’s eyebrows rose. They hadn’t expected you to say anything about it, then. “What is it, now that you know my dirty secret?” A slightly wicked grin crossed your face and you tilted your head, daring them to reply.

For once, they both seemed speechless. You saw how they communicated with each other, slightly glazed eyes. Rude, but you wouldn’t comment on it for now.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Aelin finally asked. An absolutely pointless question based on the look on her face.

“You know why.” You set the knife and fork down, wringing your hands together under the table to try and release some of the tension building in you.

“You let everyone say horrible things about you.” She said quietly.

That struck something deep inside you. They know about what others say, and considering the ones who say it still run their mouths and repeat the same rhetoric even a year later … your mother always told you silence is agreement. All of a sudden, you didn’t give a damn about your magic, about what might happen to you because of it, instead you felt a sense of betrayal. The people who should love you, who should protect you - act on the same instincts you did, let that happen. Crucified. A part of your soul died, withered away, and you kept a very tight lid on your magic.

“You let them.” You responded, unable to keep the slight bit of venom from your voice. Neither of them bothered to reply to that, and your temper flared further. It was taking everything inside of you to keep your cool.

“You lied about your magic.” Rowan countered instead.

You scoffed, “of course I did - you know what happens to people like me.”

This time, Aelin’s knuckles went white where they gripped the table. “Not here.” She said through gritted teeth, and you grimaced.

“Not in Terrasen,” you acquiesced. Aelin’s grip loosened slightly. Rowan was still stiff as a board, his posture rigid and stoic, not an emotion or thought given away - he doesn’t want to say how he feels about the situation. That told you enough. You wanted to say it shouldn’t change anything, but it does, it changes absolutely every damn thing.

Aelin threw her head back with a groan. “This is a mess.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, and some of the tension in the room left, as if she’d snapped it with a sharp knife.

“We’ll,” Rowan cleared his throat. “We’ll keep you safe, whatever it takes.” Your entire body froze, eyes widening. You’d deny it but small tears had pricked at the corner. The sight of those softened Rowan’s gaze, his body loosening slightly. “Did you think we wouldn’t?” He asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, “very few alive know.”

Rowan immediately grilled you for the names of the people who do know, and you answered, albeit a bit reluctantly. The fierce look in his eyes set you on edge enough you probably would confess your deepest secrets to him if he asked. Aelin had pasted an amused look on her face, but you knew she was taking note of every name, of every word exchanged between the two of you.

“How did you find out?” You asked the question that had been on your mind all night.

Rowan, at least, had the decency to grimace - but didn’t look apologetic at all. “I followed you.”

At least there wasn’t a snitch somewhere, only a nosy buzzard. “I’d do the same,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. Rowan’s mouth quirked up at the side.

Maybe this could be the bridge, a way to start connecting the gap between you and them. That’s if you could figure out how to overcome the hurt dealt to you - how they hadn’t defended you, hadn’t said a word against some of the vultures linking in their courts. You could say you were making assumptions, but you were blessed by the God of truth - it was perfectly clear to you.

A pessimistic part of your mind, the antagonist, rose to the front. Are you only worthy now that they know of your magic? Now that you can prove yourself as an equal? You clenched your fists together once, twice, three times, and released them. A conversation for another time, something to think through on another date. A day where you would give them a piece of your mind, once you were ready.

#rowaelin x y/n #rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin #poly!rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x y/n #aelin galathynius x reader #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass fic

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orangevtae · 2 years

Text

Protector [Din Djarin x Skywalker!Reader]

Summary: Din's been on your track for a while now, but he actually didn't know that you were being hunted for to be delivered to an Empire Lord that has been after you simply because you were part of the Resistance so you both make a deal: you pay him so he protects you till you got to Nevarro so you can pay the price for your own head and you go to your separate ways. But is Din capable of doing it?

Warnings: Even if the story it's written between the events of seasons 1 & 2, maybe there can be some spoilers. Strangers to lovers (kinda?). Murder and death. afab!reader and use of she/her pronouns. Mentions of the Skywalker twins, reader and them are not blood relationed tho. Found family kinda thing. Typical Star Wars and The Mandalorian like violence. Touch starved Din (No one's gonna change my mind on that).

A/N: another day, another Pedro Pascal character. I decided to delete Supernova cause i didn't like the way it was going and i thought about this one and liked the idea better, maybe it will be multi-chapter, still thinking about it. Enjoy! <3

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Din was yet in another icey planet. The snow beneath his feet was fluff, what made his boots smooth down while he heard the crunchy sound of it. The kid was safely neated and warmed on it's satchel by Din's hip as The Mandalorian was with his attention on his track orb that was beeping the louder he walked.

He didn't mind snowy icey planets, his beskar made sure to keep the cold out, he only thought about how this kinda of place seemed to be the prefered ones for the bounties he went after to. The thing is: this bounty in specifically never stopped on a place for more than a week, he got lucky if sometimes they decided to stay for two weeks, but it never lasted.

He has been after you for quite some months now, Din thought that maybe that was the longer he took to find a bounty. It was hard to keep tracks on you, he got near close to capture you once on Coruscant but you got him lost on the multitude on people on there, he only got closer enough to see you flying off on a ship, attentively looking back at him. So now, with you close to reach and him lucky enough to find out about where you were hiding before you took off by the end of the week was everything he asked for.

You knew he was after you, which bounty hunter wasn't? But the fact is: he in specifically was the one that could actually keep his track on you. You made all the others get lost, being tricked whenever they got too close so you could use the force to persuade them to believe that you weren't the person they were looking for.

But this one, this Mandalorian guy, really made up for the legends he had on his shoulders. At first, you were deeply afraid of him, he for himself looked butch enough and with the beskar clad armor he wore, he looked even more intimidating. If he ever so captured you, you were done for.

You don't know how long you were in the run now, you just knew that it had been so long that you blocked your siblings from the force connection you had so just you wouldn't endangering them on this too. You knew Luke and Leia could take care of themselves, they had much more force training than you, but they had their own lifes and you didn't want them in trouble cause of your problems.

It was easy to persuade the others bounty hunters, even if they were in that line of work, not all of them were good on their stealthy, you lost count how many times you got them lost cause they made fools of themselves but with the Mandalorian? You only got lucky the first and only time you were able to drible him and run away before he captured you. Right now, you wouldn't have time to hide or run cause you didn't thought yet about the next planet you would go to because the Mandalorian found you first, so you had two options and neither of them were good enough to do before he shot you with a blaster and it's bye-bye you.

You took a deep breath, you were patiently waiting for him to get to the room you were staying at and you weren't less surprised when you heard the door open and close, the sound of heavy boots making themselves known as he got inside "Don't move" he commanded, his voice a little raspy from the modulator from his helmet.

"So...you finally found me" you commented, voice low.

"Yeah, you were kinda hard to keep track on but not enough" he said "Stand up"

You took a deep breath, it was now or never "Okay, listen, i have a proposal for you" you said as you stood up, hands above your head "I'm pretty sure you don't know who is after me."

"No clue, my job it's just to catch you and bring you" he said, taking slow steps towards you as he stood tall before you, blaster directly aimed to your stomach "and i can bring you in warm or i can bring in cold, you decide it. I'm going to get my payment either way."

"Please, just listen to me" you begged, looking up at him. Your orbs found the T line on his helmet, that was a little tilted down at you since you were a little smaller than him and you almost felt like crying if that would made him listen to you, you didn't care if you were going to be shot, you have to at least try "The man that is looking for me, he's an former Empire Lord. Even if the Empire it's over, there's plenty of man like the one's after me around the galaxy."

"So what?" he said in return.

"So what is that he's after me cause i was part of the Rebellion, got sent on a mission where my purpose was to find and take down the ship he was and the crew members with him by the end of the war. He still was alive after i took everything down and that set a rage on him and he's been looking for me ever since." you let out a deep breath "I never did anything moraly wrong that could cause my name to be around a bounty hunter track orb or to have a farrik Mandalorian after me. He's just after me cause he wants revenge and the Republic doesn't know how to find him cause he is always hidden the dark where their eyes are unable to see and if i wasn't being honest about it i wouldn't come up with such history, it has too much backstory for it to be a teltalle so i can ditch you, so i am asking you to please believe my word."

For a moment, you thought that he wasn't conviced and that he would end up shooting you without needing to think twice He was silent for a few good moments, just shallow breaths being heard from his modulator.

"I don't trust you" he said finally "You could very well just made that up so you could try, so i need something to know that what you are saying it's true."

You almost sighed with relief at it and nodded "Downstairs, the lady on the reception, she was an former Rebellion ally, we fought together many times, she can confirm you my story. I'll be right here when you get back, you have my word."

You heard a deep sigh coming from him "Okay" he said, holsting his blaster back on his hip "If you story is a blanty lie and i discover that that woman downstairs has nothing to do with what you saying, you can expect that when i come back, you are done for."

You nodded your head, feeling your thighs tremble a little "Okay."

"Stay right here, if you move" he held up his tracker "I'll know"

And he went out the door.

You let out a deep breath, your hands were sweating and trembling as you took a seat on the bed beneath you. To say you were scared of him was mere fact, that guy was even broader up close than what you've seen last time from afar. He stood tall before you all the time while having a calm demeanor with a blaster pointed at you ready to shoot if you ever tried anything.

But you wouldn't, cause you actually needed him. Not that you weren't capable of taking care of yourself, cause in reality you could take anyone down in a matter of seconds if you needed, but you needed a safe scape out and you assumed he had a ship and you needed to get to Nevarro without other bounty hunter stumbling into you.

It seemed like hours, it looked like it has been an eternity before the Mandalorian apeared on the door of your room again, closing it after he got inside.

"So?" you asked

"She confirmed your version, but why an Empire scum is after you? Really, i mean" he asked you, putting some weight on his left leg and one of his hands on his hip

"I killed his son" you stated "I didn't knew he was on board of the ship" It got silent suddenly.

It looked like the weight made your shoulders sunk.

It was the first time you ever revealed that, it was an acident, the kid wasn't supposed to be on board when you bombarded the Imperial ship, that kind of information wasn't given cause no one knew he was on board when you and your team were supposed to explode it.

"We didn't know, that kind of info never came to us and when it came...well, it was already done and his father has been after me ever since" you sighed

Mando didn't said anything for a while, only sighed and looked at the satchel at his hip where the Kid was still sleeping peacefully "So, what was your proposal?"

"Take me to Nevarro, i can pay you in double the reward for me and i am guessing you have a ship" you stated to him, squaring your shoulders "I need someone as you to take me there cause i'm always on a track. I just need to get to Nevarro to pay the reward that it's on my head, i guess that that may erase me from the Guild's records"

Din thought for a while. Even on his line of work, it wasn't acceptable to kill kids and he thought that you were paying for something that wasn't your fault and you clearly just wanted a stop to the constant feeling of running away. That didn't mean he trusted you tho.

Plus, he needed the money, he had an extra mouth now so he needed to buy food since the green child under his care never stopped eating amd he wanted him to at least live well under his care.

"I'll take you there, one of the head leaders of the Guild is a friend of mine, i guess he can do that for you if i ask him, it's a more than fair trade i guess" he shrugged, putting his blaster back on the holter "But i don't trust you."

"You don't have to" you looked him at his helmet, where you guessed his eyes would be "Just take me to Nevarro, i'll pay you and we both go on our separate ways"

"Deal" he tilted his head towards the door signaling for you guys to head out the door.

You grabbed the backpack you always carried with you that had just the few belongings and headed out the room, the lights went off and the door closed behind you and your new companions for a while.

For your lucky, you always remembered to pay your stady on the places you would be in the moment you arrived at them, so you didn't had problems when leaving the in you where. When you put feet outside of it, the cold air hitted you with force and you squeezed the scarf closer to your neck and nose and followed the Mandalorian that was a few steps ahead of you.

When you took steps enough to at least walk by his side in silence, you noticed a pair of green ears peaking out of the satchel he had around his hip, you frowned when it turned it's head and stared at you with it's big orbs. You let out a little smile make itself on your lips when you noticed that it was a baby, he cooed to you and you waved a little before looking front of you to make sure you wouldn't step on some ice that would make you slide face down on the ground. You haven't noticed the baby till now.

You knew that Mandalorians had a costume to take orphans in their care till they delivered them to their family's or they stayed with them of they couldn't find, you were surprised to know that this Mandalorian beside you had that kind of mission on him. It didn't take long to get to the hangar where the Mandalorian had put his ship into.

You let out a quiet whistle at seeing his ship "Wow, Razor Crest. It's been a while since i saw one"

"Ever piloted one?" he asked, this seemed to peak his interest

"No, we had one at the Rebel base, it was only used once" you whispered

"C'mon" he clicked a few buttons on the pad of his arm, making the ramp of the Crest to get down.

When it was down enough, he went ahead of you and climbed it, you followed close behind, when you were inside, the same ramp got up and the Crest was started, lifting off the ground so you decided to go to the cockpit, where the Mandalorian and his little green friend where at and then went off planet.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian #pedro pascal characters #reader insert #star wars #star wars imagine

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