#or not taking turns and not understanding social cues. i practically teared up when i finally heard my frustrations told by another person

[nitunio]

sorry i got the 'cant talk properly and born in the era of most content on proper socialisation and talking being done by social gurus and corporates so now i talk like a corporate and people make fun of me for that' autism and not the quirky social autism

[ventihonklightice]

Clingy || Wilbur Soot

word count: 3.5k

~~~

Y/N had been lounging around the flat all day as her boyfriend filmed videos with his fellow Minecraft friends. Wilbur had currently been recording with Tommy and Quackity, another one of their wild Minecraft mod videos. She knew her love was busy and had his responsibilities with his own videos alongside the ones made with his friends, but she had been scrolling through Twitter and saw that he had just gotten verified. There was no way he knew about the news as he had been busy all day doing his job.

A smile grew on her face as she rushed to his bedroom door to share the great news, however she paused as she heard the nature of his current discussion with his friends.

“- but she’s been good. We’ve been really good,” Y/N smiled at his words, seemingly knowing it was about her. That smile quickly disappeared at the words her boyfriend was about to spew. “Just, she’s been kind of needy and clingy or something,” Wilbur shook his head not fully understanding his own words, looking at the wall behind his monitor too lost in his thoughts. He couldn’t quite understand his own thoughts half of the time, especially today as all he has done was played Minecraft. Slowly, the hate he has been receiving has been catching up to him, forcing him into this pit he’d never thought he’d be in which added to the stress that fueled his words. “Like she thinks she always has to be with me. Right now even, she’s at the flat.” Wilbur ran his fingers through his messy brown hair as he proceeded to explain his relationship. “I love her, I do, but I can’t even be with her right now so I don’t understand why she has to be here,” he confessed, mind clouded with tiredness masked by the wine he downed in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Y/N furrowed her brows leaning forward to listen further. “Well, she loves you, so what do you expect her to do? Not want to be with you?” She heard an American accent, likely belonging to Quackity.

“I-I don’t know. It’s just- I’m not used to this. It’s been a while since I’ve seriously been with a girl like this before. I just need space, but she wants to be around me constantly. It’s annoying.” The anger, the annoyance, and the frustration were all evident in his voice, making Y/N second guess a lot of her choices the past few days. She looked down at her hands, the mustard sleeves reaching past her palms belonging to the man behind the door she leaned on.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to push back her tears before she walked away, not being able to listen to him any further. Her eyes began to water more and more as bothering him was the very last thing she had ever wished to do. She sat on the couch before pulling the jumper off of her body, folding it neatly in her hands before pulling on her shoes.

Fanning her face quickly to reduce any possible puffiness or redness, Y/N timidly knocked on the door to Wilbur’s room. “Hold on guys,” he spoke to his friends, muting himself on discord. “Yeah?” She heard his deep voice call from the other side, taking it as her cue to push the door open. His hair fluffed about as he turned to face her. “Hey what’s up?” He asked with a soft smile.

“I uh think I’m gonna head home, got an early shift tomorrow and all,” she spoke softly while avoiding his gaze. Y/N wasn’t one to lie so she felt guilty for doing so but she didn’t know what else to do.

He furrowed his brows, confused at her words. She almost always stays the night, especially when she works early because he lives closer to her job.

“You sure? You’re more than welcome to stay the night. Y-You always do,” he muttered with slight concern in his words as he took his headset off.

She shook her head lightly, “nah it’s alright. Gotta water the plants,“ Y/N fiddled with the door handle as her other hand traced the sweater, knowing full well she doesn’t have any plants.

“Alright, I’ll walk you out,” he stood up, adjusting the chair in order to do so. Y/N reached out to him, his jumper resting in her hand, “where’d you like me to put this?”

He stood up, increasingly getting confused at her actions because he knew that she loved wearing his clothes and stealing them any chance she got. “I-I’ll um, just toss it on the bed,” he pointed to the made bed, slipping on his shoes to walk her out.

She felt his form loom over her as he walked with her out of the flat and to her car. They walked in silence, uncharacteristically. Wilburs’s hands were stuffed in the pockets of his pants lost in his thoughts as he heard her car alarm He walked to the driver’s side, lost in his thoughts while he opened the door for her.

She approached the door, getting ready to sit in the driver’s seat before turning to Wilbur to bid goodbye. He leaned down to kiss her, standard for all of their farewells, but she turned her head at the last second, his lips crashing onto her cheek. His heart dropped at the odd situation he was placed in, wondering why this was happening.

“I-I’ll see you later,” she smiled softly before sitting down and preparing to drive.

He could let her go like this. He had to know if things were good, okay even. Before he shut the door, he leaned down a bit to get closer to her. “Is everything okay? You seem a bit off, darling.”

“Y-yeah I’m just really tired,” she chuckled humorlessly, placing a hand on her forehead. “Sorry, it’s just been a weird day.”

“If you’re that tired you could stay here,” his voice practically pleaded, assuring her once more that she always had a place there.

“I-I’ll be fine, I promise.” Her words were soft along with her eyes, but she just wanted to give him what he desired; space.

“You sure?” He asked once more, extremely concerned, but what answer was he really expecting? Y/N nodded her head, “positive.”

“Alright, text me when you get home,” he leaned back, preparing to shut the door for her. She nodded her head, pushing her keys into the ignition. “I love you,” he spoke sincerely, bending down so that she’d be able to see him better once more. There was an emotion in YN’s eyes that he couldn’t recognize, but the smile on her face was sad. “I-you too, I’ll see you later,” she fiddled with her keys before meeting his gaze.

His heart shattered at the words. You too? What the hell is that suppose to mean?

He gave a tight smile before shutting the door for her. You too, the words echoed in his mind as he began walking back to the front door, pausing his steps on the pavement to watch her pull out of the driveway. He sighed before turning back to his path home. Upon returning, the place felt dimmer without her presence and he quickly took note of that.

Letting out a huge sigh, he plopped down at his desk, unmuting himself on Discord. “Sorry bout that, I’m back. J-Just walking Y/N out,” he spoke, taking the only opportunity his friends quieted down to speak.

“Wilbur!” Tommy yelled as the rest of the VC, which now had Niki, Jack and Fundy, errupted in chaos. “W-What? What the fuck happened?”

“Dude you got verified on Twitter,” Quackity shouted. His eyes went wide, opening the light blue app to see if it was true. Sure enough, a small check mark emphasized his name. He beamed at the sight of it, rushing to make a tweet about how grateful he was.

He went back to his feed, noticing that Y/N had made a tweet about ten or so minutes prior.

y/n✨| @yourusername

so proud of my favorite boy getting verified <3 love you @WilburSoot !!

His heart clenched at the tweet, being drawn back to the events that occurred moments beforehand. He liked and retweeted it, watching his fans swoon at the couple’s interaction without knowing what was happening behind closed doors, before getting back to his friends being completely distracted by thoughts on the girl he loves.

~~~

Y/N never texted him to tell him that she was home. She woke up late that morning seeing a few texts from him about twitter, how his stream went and so on.

As she looked at the time on her phone, realizing the lie she told him about working early and chose not to answer quite yet.

She spent the rest of her day around the house, cleaning, cooking or watching TV. She wasn’t in any mood to go on social media, not wanting to interact with Wilbur quite yet. Y/N sighed thinking about yesterday, thinking that it would be a better idea to just give him some space.

And so she did, for several days before Wilbur’s worry consumed him.

He sat on Discord with his friends, days after his last interaction with his girlfriend. “It’s just weird because she’s never like this. She always calls or texts me whenever she gets the chance regardless of whether or not I ask,” he expressed to his friends as they were fucking around on their own Minecraft world. He wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing in the game, just aimlessly pressing buttons and moving his mouse as he thought of Y/N.

Tommy chuckled shortly, “now look whos being needy.”

“Shut up Tommy,” Wilbur explained, running a hand across his chin, fingertips gracing his incredibly overgrown stubble. “Look I’m just saying,” the blond furthered, “there’s no need for you to say she’s clingy or whatever when your freaking out over a text! Like you saw her less than what, two, three ago?”

Wilbur shook his head, fuming now, “Oh my god, shut the fuck up Tommy! How would you, a literal child, know anything about what’s going on? You’ve barely hit puberty!” His outburst caused his friends to quiet down, them not being used to anger being directed in such a way.

“Wilbur,” Tommy started once again, becoming more serious, “I know you. You worrying over a few short days almost disproves everything you said the other day. I think you don’t know how to handle affection well, not that she’s clingy or whatever.” Hearing Tommy acting serious and not childish for this one second made something snap within Wilbur, knowing that the child was right.

He sighed, “I-I’m sorry for snapping at you. Everything is happening at once in my life right now and Y/N not talking to me has me worried. This isn’t what’s normal between us. It’s strange.”

“But isn’t this what you wanted? She isn’t being as ‘needy’ now. You got your wish, didn’t you?” George chimed in, hoping to help even though his own experiences with relationships hasn’t always been the best.

“Yeah, and I fucking hate it, I don’t know why I even said that. I don’t mean it. I love when she’s around, I hate when she isn’t,” Wilbur went on, his thoughts focusing on the good memories he has with his girlfriend.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Dream spoke ominously, feeling as if now was the most appropriate time to speak.

“I-I’m gonna call her,” the distressed twenty year old expressed, whipping out his phone to go to her number. As the phone rang, he became more and more nervous.

“What if she got in an accident? Or someone kidnapped her or something?”He rushed before him and his friends heard “please leave a message for 3-“

“Wilbur, she’s probably fine. She probably had a long day at work or something,” Niki spoke, hoping to add a small but of optimism to the situation.

“Yeah but she would’ve told me that. She would’ve called me to rant about her day, and tell me how much she wanted to see me, but she didn’t.” He leaned back in his chair, getting more and more stressed out over this.

“I-I think I’m gonna head to her flat.”

~~~

The drive was long as his anxiety slowly but surely began to increase with every green light. He pulled into her complex, parking and building up the courage to confront her.

“It’ll be fine. Things are fine,” he muttered to himself as he walked up the steps to the familiar doormat.

He knocked on the door, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. After a minute, there was no response so he knocked again with more ergency.

“Just a minute,” he heard her soft voice yell out, flooding him with relief. The voice wasn’t as warm as it typically was, only increasing his nervousness.

Before he knew it, Y/N opened the door, eyes meeting his chest before trickling to his eyes. “Wilbur? What are you doing here?”

He froze, shocked at the situation that he forced upon himself without realizing it. “I-You weren’t answering any calls or texts. I was worried,” he mumbled, immediately taking note of her puffy eyes.

“Have you been crying?” He stepped closer to her with concern lacing his voice. He reached out to hold her waist, caress her cheek, anything, but she stepped away slighted. Y/N blinked, “y-yeah, it’s just allergies.”

“You don’t have allergies like that Y/N. May I please come in?” Wilbur knew her better than that, probably even better than she knew herself. She nodded shortly opening the door wider for him to enter, looking down at her sock clad feet.

He entered the tiny flat, taking not that the once welcoming space has become littered with turmoil. The tissues by the sofa didn’t go unnoticed and neither did the pile of dishes in the sink. “What’s been going on? These past few days you’ve been acting strange,” he asked sincerely.

Y/N looked around, finding something and pretending to be busy with it. “I’ve just been busy,” she mumbled looking over the pile of mail she refused to actually look through. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, would you like some tea?” She asked, realizing her manners.

“Y/N,” he spoke defeated, “come on talk to me, please.” He practically begged as he followed her steps into the kitchen to start the kettle, even though he didn’t give her an answer.

“Everything’s fine, Wilbur,” she replied absentmindedly as she searched for her various teas. “We got chai tea, black tea, Engli-“

“Y/N, I dont fucking want tea right now I want you to talk to me,” he shouted, approaching her in the kitchen and forcing her to face him by pulling her waist gently. She gasped at the loudness of his words, not used to him yelling at her.

“Wilbur,” Y/N whispered, her hands on his chest as he looked down into her eyes. Desperation was clear in his before being mimicked in his words, “this is the longest you’ve gone without calling me Wil. Come on Y/N, please.” His voice cracked towards the end, the shakiness not leaving.

She closed her eyes tightly before she pulled herself out of his arms, turning to grab two mugs out of the cupboard, “you’re getting chai tea.”

“Love, I just want us to be okay,” he spoke passionately, pleading for things to be right.

“We are okay Wilbu- Wil,” she corrected, more so forcing the nickname to combat his complaint. As she prepared each cup, putting Wilbur’s desired amount of sugar into his cup and respectively her own.

He shook his head, not believing her words as his own eyes began to turn red, “there’s something wrong and I can tell. Please just-please Y/N.” His voice was completely broken and she knew she had to express her concerns. She paused her motions, staring at the jar of sugar she just placed onto the counter.

“I-I didn’t want to bother you,” she muttered softly, examining the mugs before her.

The man sniffed, confusion growing within him. “W-What do you mean? You could never bother me Y/N,” his voice soft, approaching her once again.

She shook her head, moving to put sugar in each cup, forgetting that she already did so, “but that’s not true. We both know that.” The water remained on the stove while copious amount of sugar occupied each cup. Wilbur gently grabbed the hand holding the spoon that shoveled the sugar into the mugs, making her stop her own actions.

“Yes it is, love.” Wilbur whispered softly as she put the spoon into the jar, coming back to reality. Y/N let out a shaky breath, facing the counter while Wilbur occupied her side, facing her.

“So why’d you tell all of your friends that I’ve been clingy and needy and overbearing and everything under the sun?” She whispered as her voice wobbled, indicating that tears would soon come falling down.

Wilbur furrowed his brows, confused at the words she expressed. He scavenged his mind, not understanding what she was stating. “What are yo-“ he cut himself off, taking his hand from hers as he remembered that conversation.

Guilt washed over his soul as he realized the greater impact of his words. She thought she had to change....for those idiotic meaningless words expressed in a fit of stress and exhaustion. He shook his head lightly, refusing to look at her, refusing to look at the damage he’s caused.

“I didn’t mean it Y/N. I just-there was a lot on my plate and I just had to complain about something. A-And you were there to complain about.” He spoke honestly, knowing that it doesn’t excuse his behavior. The sound of the kettle went off, the whistle tones attacking his ears while Y/N ignored it to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I just didn’t want to be a burden,” she muttered with a wobbling bounce that made the tall idiotic man pull her into his arms.

“No,no,no don’t ever ever think that again. You are not a burden. You never were Y/N. This is on me, I shouldn’t have said what I had said,” he muttered into her hair, repeating apologies like a mantra while kissing her hairline.

She let go, allowing her pent up feelings from the past few day flow out through tears while in the comfort of his arms, “my biggest fear is bothering people. I-I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” he pulled away to hold her tear stained cheeks in his hands, regret prominent in his gaze, “you have been nothing but patient with me these past few months and that is something I don’t even have the words to express, love.”

“You, Y/N L/N, are not a burden, not now, not ever,” he whispered lovingly. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m sorry I even said it. I didn’t mean it, but fuck I shouldn’t have. Look at what I’ve done to you,” his voice wavered as he pulled away to assess the damage. “Fuck,” he shook his head as a sob escaped his lips before he could pull her into his arms again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, holding her tight while the whistle pierced his ears. She leaned back slightly, pressing her forehead against his while closing her eyes, “I know, I know. It’s okay. I know you. I know you wouldn’t mean it.”

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her head in one of his hands. “I love you too, Wil,” she whispered back, pulling his lips onto hers, sealing their words with this actions.

As much as he loved the feeling of her soft lips on his once again, he pulled away. “Okay, okay, as much as I don’t want this to stop, that damn kettle is driving me mad,” he expressed, making Y/N chuckle before kissing him on the cheek and going to turn off the stove.

He watched fondly as she was about to pour the water into the mugs, stoping to see the plethora of sugar in each. “Oh shit,” she paused, laughing at the mess she had made. Wilbur snapped out of his gaze, examining the scene that caused her words.

He shook his head lightly, grabbing the kettle from her hands before placing it back onto the stovetop. “You,” he turned to face her, poking her cheek, “go to bed, get all comfy and put on a film. I will finish the tea and bring it to you.” His eyes got soft towards the end of his statement as he went to assess the mug situation.

“Then,” he spoke gently, grabbing her waist once again, littering her face with kisses that trailed down her neck, “I’ll spend the whole day making it up to you.”

Y/N laughed, running her fingers through his soft hair, “can’t wait.” His lips stayed pressed onto her neck, before they made their way back to her own.

[loving-medusa]

The Dimitrescus take care of Donna Beneviento: Headcanons

WITHOUT A DOUBT, ALCINA DIMITRESCU AND HER DAUGHTERS TAKE CARE OF (AND LOVE) DONNA BENEVIENTO. 100000%. Here are some headcanons for you besties:  - Donna has her own room in the castle near the Dimitrescu chambers. She stays over all the time and actually keeps some of her more prized dolls within her bedroom- mainly because she knows the castle is very protected. Her room always smells like flowers! - Alcina and Donna have a little schedule so that whenever Donna is away, Alcina writes her every four days on how her dolls are doing (it helps ease her anxiety and shows that Alcina cares about her.) The maids dust the shelves each day!  - Donna also has a ‘crafts’ room of sorts hidden within the heart of the castle- she likes her privacy and usually the door has a little red ribbon tied to the handle when she doesn’t want anyone to barge in.  - It’s filled with a special work table and tools- as well as doll parts and other necessary items. There’s also a pair of gloves for her (and a mini pair for Angie.) There’s one mirror in the room but it’s covered with a cloth.  - Sometimes, the girls join her! - Daniela pops in from time to time for some peace and quiet- she sits in comfortable silence with Donna and finds that her work is quite soothing.  - Bela goes in with tea and a book. They have pleasant conversation and Donna absolutely lights up when Bela indulges her and asks questions about her craft and what she does and how she does it.  - Cassandra busts in with cookies or a sweet that she stole from the kitchens and usually goes in to cheer Donna up. She puts on music for them and dances playfully with her, as well as makes her laugh and smile. - The trio also all know how to sew (Alcina managed to teach them lol) and after a tough and/or stressful day, they sit in the room with her and sew together. Eventually, they end up making veils! - Bela decides to sew in Donna’s favorite flowers and makes it look very pretty and feminine. - Cassandra creates little dagger and jewel patterns that she can wear out to a ball or whenever she wants honestly.  - And Daniela chooses to be a bit more practical and sews her a thicker veil (though still thin enough to breathe and see through) for the winter months. - Angie is allowed to roam the castle and actually manages to make friends with some of the maids but usually she’s found in the gardens or just around- causing havoc with the daughters. - Alcina and Donna have a close relationship. Whenever Donna’s upset and/or hurt (physically, emotionally, etc.)- Alcina never hesitates to open her arms and hear her out. She loves her very much and would protect her with all of her heart.  - Knowing Donna does not like company with those she isn’t familiar with, Alcina and her establish social cues. During events they both attend- Alcina keeps an eye out for something like a subtly raised finger pointing in a different direction, meaning she wants to go there- or maybe Angie is with them and her mouth falls open- that could be a sign of Donna being uncomfortable. Just small things one usually wouldn’t notice unless you knew to look for them. - Alcina HATES. HATES. HATES. how Mother Miranda made Donna a line of defense against Ethan Winters. She’s very protective of her and knows that there are things Donna doesn’t understand- she tries to shield her from the cold brutality of certain things (but knows that it’s difficult, considering the type of atmosphere they’re constantly surrounded with.) - Donna calms down the Dimitrescus. If Daniela is on the verge of tears, or Alcina is overflowing with irritation, or if Cassandra is in a rage- one look at Donna’s still form and her clasped hands and suddenly they’re deflating a bit and thinking about their actions (unless they’re too far gone.)  - Something about her quiet presence and how they know that she’s worried about them- it makes them feel a bit guilty for blowing up when she’s near.  - Cassandra and Daniela (mainly Dani) are extremely curious and ask Donna to help them see hallucinations.  - Reluctantly, she does. It ends up being funny as hell.  - They’re running around the castle from various monsters and Bela can’t help herself from laughing so hard she cries. Donna’s shoulders shake slightly as she laughs behind her veil. - Alcina ends up wrestling the girls to their rooms and giving them something to help (although she does share a laugh with Donna.)  - Dani asks if she can go again.  - Donna and Angie like sweets. Period.  - Donna has memorized and named all of her dolls. Bela tries memorizing them all too.  - Cassandra gets scrap from her uncle and gives the smaller pieces to Donna so she can work them into her dolls. - Donna and Heisenberg have a bad relationship cuz he’s a dick to her (I love Heis but really my guy? Insulting her after she died? smfh.) - Alcina stands up for her.  - THE GIRLS AND HER HAVE LITTLE SLUMBER PARTIES AND PAINT EACH OTHER’S NAILS AND DO MAKEUP AND HAIR! They take turns telling scary stories and trading stories about their lives. They don’t mention Mother Miranda on those nights.  - Angie joins them 100% - Alcina smiles to herself in her study or room when she hears the girl’s scream laughter as they giggle with Donna about something one of them said.  - On nights where Donna can’t sleep, Alcina sits with her and reads her to sleep. She also checks on her each night (just like she does with the girls) before heading to bed.  - Donna also has a good relationship with Moreau but not nearly as good as her one with Alcina.  - Donna likes cats.  - She takes walks around the castle grounds and such with Alcina and the girls from time to time- usually they’re shrouded in comfortable silence, though when she’s with Alcina- they talk about everything and anything. - Donna rarely talks to others- so the main people she communicates with are the Dimitrescus, Moreau, and Mother Miranda (though she tries to stay away from her honestly.) - Alcina’s loyalty may run deep for Mother Miranda- but she’d do anything for Donna. She’s her most trusted (and only) friend.  - Donna checks on Alcina from time to time. When Angie shows up in her office, Alcina knows it’s Donna’s way of saying “take a break and come visit me” and Angie leads her to whichever room she’s in. - They have tea together all the time.  - Donna doesn’t like thunderstorms but she appreciates their beauty.  WELP. THAT’S ALL I HAVE FOR TODAY. HOPE YOU LIKE IT XOXO. 

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209​ @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter one rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Masterlist and Series Masterlist

“Married?” You squeaked as your eyes grazed over the words on the card a hundred times without retaining any of the information. As you momentarily forgot how to even read, you had to rely on the words coming out of Andy’s mouth.

“Yes, uh, married.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Dani and I are getting married over the summer.”

The awkward silence filled the air, suffocating the three of you, but you didn’t care. You were still staring at that damn card. That damn card that said your ex boyfriend was getting married to another girl.

“Married.” You repeated, at a loss for words.

“You said that already, dumbass.” Venom chimed in, telepathically. You rolled your eyes and kicked the bench, signaling to her to quiet down.

“Yeah.” He said again. “I know we’re young, but I’m sure about her. She’s the love of my life.”

“Wow. Good for you.” You faked a smile as you stared at the invitation. “It’s Uh, it’s a lot to take in.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you in person. I figured it would be better than you randomly getting the card in the mail and finding out that way.” Andy explained.

“Our hero.” Venom snarled, so you pinched your leg to send her the message to be quiet.

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m glad you told me.” You lied as your eyes finally processed something on the card.

“You’re getting married on August 10?” You asked, finally tearing your eyes away from the invitation to look at him. He looked good, you had to admit. His curly brown hair was cut shorter than usual and he was still wearing his police uniform.

“Bright and early. I chose that day because-“

“Because it’s your parents anniversary. I know.” You cut him off, a little sharply.

“I’m sorry if this is awkward.” He frowned. “I understand if you’re too hurt to come.”

“It’s fine. We were together and now we’re not. Besides, I’m really happy for you and Dani. She really helped me get back on my feet when Venom and I first bonded. I like her. And if you want to marry her on that day, then go ahead.” You said, and you meant it. You did like Dani. You’d like her more if she wasnt dating the love of your life, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

“You’re lying. We want him back. He looks so juicy and delicious.” Venom said. You choked on your saliva for a moment at her words and Andy was quick to pat your back.

“You alright?” He asked. You nodded and made a mental note to have a domestic conversation about boundaries with Venom when you got home.

“I’m fine. And anyways, I’ve uh, I’ve moved on.” You lied, adverting your eyes so he wouldn’t catch on.

“What? No we haven’t?” Venom didn’t grasp the social cue.

“You have?” Andy asked, seemingly taken aback.

“No! We love you!” Venom growled in your head.

“Yep. I’m in a deeply committed and loving relationship.” You nodded as you looked anywhere but at him. It wasn’t a total lie. You were technically in a relationship with Venom, though be it a host/parasite kinda deal.

“What’s he like?” Andy wondered, looking pissed off all the sudden.

“They’re great. They’re, uh…tall. Super, super tall.” You began to describe Venom. So far, it was all true. Venom was 7’6 in her final form.

“They’re black, like yourself, and they’ve got this big, beautiful smile.” You could feel yourself cringing internally as you painted the picture for him.

“You think our smile is beautiful?” Venom teased you.

“And they just always have my back. They’re my ride or die, you know? If I didn’t have them, I’d be dead. Literally.” You finished. Also true. If you and Venom ever got separated, you would both die. Andy was looking off into the distance, sucking his teeth before nodding again.

“That’s nice.” He said, but his tone didn’t sound like he thought it was nice.

“I’d literally die.” You repeated to fill the awkward silence.

“I get it.” He deadpanned.

“Like, I’d freaking perish.”

“Alright.” He held up his hands and you stopped.

“So, do you think you can come?” He brought the conversation back to him, something he was good at.

Of course you could come. What else would you be doing? But you were just getting back on my feet after losing your job and a wedding might be too much too soon. You were at rock bottom before you found Venom. Well, before you found each other. That was nearly a year ago, but that day came back in flashes every now and then...

“You’re seriously breaking up with me? Over a job?” You asked as you followed Andy out of the police station. You were under the impression that he had just been fired because of the files you took from his computer. Classified files on local businessman Carlton Drake and the people he had killed with his experiments, of course.

“Yeah, I am.” He snapped. “I’m done with you.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” You pleaded as you followed him down the street.

“Okay.” He stopped, looking angry. “Do you want to talk about how you embarrassed me in front of my precinct? I just got yelled at in front of my all my coworkers because of you and your greed. You used me for your stupid show.”

“I wasn’t being greedy.” You insisted, ignoring that he called your job stupid. “You had the information on Carlton Drake and I needed it to make an accusation. He’s killing people! He’s a bad guy, Andy. And I write about and report bad men. That’s my job. I didn’t know that looking at your files would get you fired.”

Andy put his hands on his hips and looked around, suddenly sheepish.

“I wasn’t fired.” He mumbled.

“What?” You switched from upset to confused. “Then why are you angry?”

“I was demoted to traffic duty for two weeks because of you.” He pointed an angry finger at you and you almost laughed.

“I’m sorry, wait.” You compared yourself. “You’re breaking up with me after two years together because I got you demoted to traffic duty? Are you serious?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to wear that orange vest? It’s humiliating.” Andy shouted and you covered your mouth to keep from laughing. “Everyone in the neighborhood knows me and now they’re gonna know I’m on traffic duty.”

“People know you?” Your eyes widened at how dense he was being. “Andy, I’m a local celebrity. I had a whole show on YouTube that I was just fired from. Actually fired. You’re just a police officer who was demoted.”

“To traffic duty.” He repeated, as if it was suddenly worse.

“I know!” You snapped before calming down. “Are we really over? Just because of one mistake?”

“You used me.” He shrugged. “I can’t trust you.”

You stared at him as he walked over to you, never breaking eye contact as he took his key off your key ring.

“We’re over.” He hissed before turning around and walking away.

“Y/N?” Andy waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of it.

“Oh, right sorry. Um…” You trailed off as you mulled it over. You were happy for him, but you weren’t ready to see him marry someone else. That was gonna be you guys. Of course you wanted to be at his wedding, but you wanted to be the bride.

“Actually, I cant.” You blurted, quickly thinking of a lie. “The Daily Bugle called me and offered me a job in New York. They want me to cover a story on some serial killer. I was gonna move there part time until the story is done. I’m leaving in a few weeks.”

It was partially true. The Daily Bugle did reach out to ask you to write the story, but you had planned to write it at home. News of Andy’s impending marriage was enough to drive you out of the state.

“Oh really?” Andy raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

He was never one to celebrate you, even when you were together, but his reaction seemed different now. He almost seemed surprised that you were still successful without him.

“Yea. I just finalized everything this morning.” You lied again as you wondered how you’d get a NYC apartment on such short notice. “But hey, maybe I’ll finish early and make it back in time for your big day. I mean, it’s only April. I have lots of time. How many people could this guy possible kill until August?” You joked, but Andy didn’t laugh. He never really got your sense of humor.

“That’s great Y/N.” He nodded, not much enthusiasm behind it. “Things are really turning around for you. I can’t believe you found a job and a boyfriend. I didn’t think it would happen.”

You narrowed your eyes at his condescending comment but decided to brush it off.

“Well, it did. I’m on to bigger and better things.” You cut into him a little as you stood up. “I better go. I told my partner I’d meet them for lunch. Bye!”

“Bye!” Andy called after you, still in a funk from what you told him.

You practically ran home and slid down your door once you got inside.

“Holy shit. I’m such a liar.” You grimaced and covered my face with my hands. Venom manifested herself in her snake-like form and looked at you.

“You’re not a liar if we move to New York and start dating.” She said, making you laugh.

“You have a point. In that case, will you be my girlfriend, Miss Venom?” You asked sarcastically and Venom grinned.

“You’re not really my type, but I’m willing to settle.” Venom matched your sarcasm.

“Then let’s make moving plans, baby.” You sighed. “We’re going to New York.”

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 20)

Pairing: Stucky x Inhuman!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist

The following afternoon, the entire team is back at the compound and doing a team training session. You, Steve, and Bucky use the opportunity to announce your engagement. Your teammates are excited and hugs and well wishes surround you. 

“Can I be the flower girl?” Wanda jokes as she hugs you. 

“Dizzy’s already claimed that honor,” you laugh.

“Alright, alright! Let’s get to work. We need to be in perfect sync for the mission.” Steve redirects everyone’s attention. 

“You got it, Cap!” you salute him as you get into position. Two hours later, you break from the drills and begin to disburse when you pull up your phone. “What the hell?” you say as you see your social media had blown up with comments and messages. You pull up your feed and begin reading. You can feel the color drain from your face. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Bucky is the first to notice you frozen in shock. 

“I… the… I don’t understand.” You feel like throwing up reading the words whore, slut, and many other disgusting slurs left on your account. Bucky pulls your phone from your hand and looks at it. 

“What the fuck?” He yells.

Steve speeds over and looks at the phone that Bucky holds out to him. 

“I don’t understand,” you say again, trembling. Bucky puts his arms around you. 

“Uhhh, guys,” Tony says as he pulls up a video.

The spokesman for one of the biggest celebrity tabloids flashes a picture of Steve and Bucky on the screen and says, “Speculation has always run wild on the love life of Captain America, Steve Rogers, and The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, but they’ve always kept it hush-hush. Now, a source close to the Avengers has come forward to give us the down and dirty details. Allegedly, our shield throwing hero doesn’t have just a girlfriend, but a boyfriend as well. Way to play both sides, Captain. We’ve been told that Captain America is dating none other than his two teammates, The Winter Soldier and Artemis, the newest member of the Avengers.”

“Artemis! The fuck?” you exclaim as a picture of the three of you is displayed on the screen. 

“Seen here at one of Tony Stark’s exclusive parties, the three have allegedly been dating for several months. But, according to our source, two men aren’t enough for the voracious Artemis, she’s also in a relationship with none other than the villainous Loki of Asgard,” the spokesman continues. Another picture from the party flashes up of you and Loki laughing together. Your stomach is rolling as this apparently isn’t the end of the slanderous story, “Artemis, an Inhuman with the skills of a linguist and animal trainer, joined the team a year ago and has apparently had her hooks in every man she’s come across since then. Our source claims she had affairs with Tony Stark, Clint Barton, and Sam Wilson before settling on the three she dates now. There is also some speculation surrounding the death of her first husband. Is she the real black widow of the Avengers?”

The video ends and you clutch your stomach, “I’m gonna be sick.” Running to the bathroom, you barely make it to the toilet before you lose your lunch. Bucky and Steve are right behind you. 

“Doll, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Bucky soothes as he rubs your back. 

You sit back against the wall and begin to sob. Steve pulls you into his lap and Bucky’s arms surround you both. 

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. We’ll fix this.” Steve says as he rubs your back. 

“We’ll get through it, doll. Whatever we have to do. We won’t let this stand.” Bucky reassures you. 

When the sobs begin to subside, you look at the two of them and nod. They help you stand and you wash out your mouth. When you return, the team is still standing around together. 

“Okay, kids. Artie is on his way and formulating a plan as we speak to work this out. We’ll demand a retraction of the slander. The PR team is going through your social media and deleting and blocking any negative comments. There are several groups who are rallying behind you all and your relationship. We’ve got your back, kid.” Tony puts a hand on your shoulder and you nod weakly. 

Wanda hugs you and you nearly break down again. Natasha looks as if she’s plotting murder with Clint. You notice Sam is missing. 

“Let’s go to our room and rest until Artie gets here. It’ll probably be a long meeting.” Bucky suggests. 

“Yeah, okay,” you follow his lead out. Shortly after the three of you get to your room there’s a knock on the door. Steve opens it and lets Sam into the room. 

“I, uh… I’m so sorry.” Sam stutters uncharacteristically and can’t quite meet your eyes. 

“Kaziah,” you state.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure. I’m so sorry. I swear I never said anything like that to her. I would never disrespect you like that.” Sam explains. 

“It’s not your fault, Sam,” you reassure him. 

“But I did tell her about you guys. And how you lost Charlie and became an Inhuman. I’m so sorry.” 

“You trusted her. I’m so sorry she betrayed you like that,” you hug Sam’s neck. “I know you must be so hurt that she did that. Maybe she was jealous about our torrid love affair.”

Sam breaks a smile, “I do have a way with the ladies.” 

“Your spirit is unbreakable. Already cracking jokes,” Steve puts his arms around you. 

“I think it’s laugh or cry at this point. I’d rather laugh. I’m sure there will be more tears later,” you say. “I need a shower.”

“That’s my cue to leave.” Sam quips. 

“Sam,” you call. 

“Can you tell Tony, please? He can probably find out for sure.” 

“Yeah. Of course.” Sam exits. 

“Alright, doll. Let’s get that shower.” Bucky pulls you into the bathroom. You stand under the spray minutes later with Bucky and Steve on each side of you. You wash each other gently, sharing soft touches and loving caresses. No matter what anyone ever says about your relationship and your love, you will never give up these two men. The loves of your life. 

Your stomach twists for a moment. Loving Steve and Bucky does not negate your love of Charlie. The accusation of killing him was what hurt more than anything else. If it hadn’t been for Terrigenisis you would still most likely be happily married to Charlie. It reaffirms to you that perhaps there really is a reason that everything happens. Which means there is a reason for this happening. You just couldn’t figure out what it was quite yet. 

“Team meeting in the conference room, immediately.” Friday chimes into your thoughts. 

Ten minutes later, the team is sitting around the conference table facing Artemus "Artie" Pithins, Director of Public Relations, and Tony. 

“We apparently have another Artemis now.” Artie chuckles as he greets you. 

“Wasn’t my decision but if it means I am as formidable as you I’m honored,” you smile as you shake Artie’s hand. 

“Charming under pressure. I love it. We’ll get through this.” Artie reassures you. When everyone is seated Artie addresses the team, “I’d like to begin by telling you all, we have confirmed the source of the leak and that person is being dealt with accordingly. Next, I give this story no credence, but I do need to go through it piece by piece to confirm what is truth and what is lies.”

“We understand.” Steve affirms.

“Are you in a polyamorous relationship as described?” Artie addresses Steve. 

“Yes,” Steve replies. 

“I see. Sgt. Barnes and our newly dubbed Artemis are your boyfriend and girlfriend?” Artie asks. 

“No, they’re my fiancees.” Steve counters. 

“Oh, Congratulations.” Artie’s wheels are turning as he continues down his list of questions. He turns to you next, “Are you in any type of relationship with Prince Loki Odinson?”

“He’s a close friend and my training partner,” you say calmly. 

“But no romantic relationship now or previously?” Artie confirms.

“No,” you reply. 

“Mr. Stark, are you now or have you ever been in a sexual relationship-”

“No, never.” Tony interrupts rolling his eyes. 

“Mr. Bar-”

“No,” Clint says curtly.

“Also, no.” Sam pipes in before the question can be asked. 

“And the last claim I won’t even dignify. That will be retracted with an apology if I have anything to say about it. I know this is not the most couth question but I need to ask. Have any of the three of you had a sexual relationship with another teammate?” Artie states.

“No,” the three of you say practically in unison. 

“Well, then I think we have the perfect solution already in the works. We’ll need the two of you to do a couple of interviews to dispel the rumors and we’ll use that time to also announce the wedding of Captain America and Artemis.” Artie smiles at you. 

“You mean the three of us, Captain America, The Winter Soldier, and Artemis,” you say. 

“The polyamorous relationship is not going to play well, but if we can shift the story from that relationship to the romance that grew out of you joining the team and throw a spectacular wedding, we’ll have nothing to worry about it,” Artie explains.

“No,” you say, looking between Steve and Bucky. 

“Let’s reconvene in two hours. Take the time to discuss it. You have a lot to consider.” Artie closes the meeting. 

Back in your room, you sit on the couch with your head in your hands. 

“Doll?” Steve sits beside you and puts a hand on your back. 

You look up at him, “Do you want to go through with this charade? Leave Bucky out of the ceremony? Everything this entails?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be best man in Stevie’s wedding no matter what,” Bucky tries to lighten the mood. 

“You should be a groom in it, baby,” you counter.

“I know, I know, doll,” Bucky sits on the other side of you, “But it’d just be a show for the public. We can have a ceremony with just our friends after. Or before. However you want.”

“Is that what you think, Stevie?” you ask.

“Here’s what I’m thinking…”

Part 21

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series are made weekly. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​​ and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[pilmik]

No better way to start a writing blog than by writing something completely self indulgent lmao college students this might hit too close to home but in my defense the new sem started and I'm. Mess

Gen: angst ig???some fluff? hurt/comfort? Quite literally just me writing what I want to hear

CW: insecurities, negative thoughts

Wakatoshi loves volleyball

Everyone knows this

Ever since he was little, he's lived and breathed for the sport

There's nothing better to him than the feeling of the ball hitting his hand, the adrenaline rush of a scored point, the satisfaction of a game well won

He didn't get this far on enjoyment alone though

As his s/o, you know this better than anyone, save for his coaches and teammates of course

You know the effort he's put in, you know that for every second he shines on the court in front he's spent hours practicing alone or with his teammates

And he shines on the court

Watching him play will never fail to make your heart stutter and your lungs feel like they're not getting enough air

After being with him as long as you have, you know enough about volleyball to know that Wakatoshi is something special

His speed, his strength, his reliability

No matter how many times you see that spike, the sound of the ball hitting the floor stays deafening

Wakatoshi was made to play Volleyball. It's an objective fact. Sometimes you think that the sport loves him just as much as he loves it

Sometimes, you get so jealous you could scream

one of the perks of being the volleyball captain's s/o is that you always get the best seats

You watch front row as your boyfriend leads his team to victory, and he always leads them to victory.

You watch, time and time again, as he scores the match point, that sharp wham of the ball hitting the court that sings triumph

Wakatoshi isn't the most expressive person. When his team wins a game, most people would write off his impassive face as nonchalance or as vanity, thinking maybe he's won so many times it doesn't feel like anything for him anymore

But you know him. You know that if you look hard enough at the end of a game, you can see a gleam in his eyes. A gleam that somehow means both satisfaction and hunger

Because while at the end of every game means victory, the end of every game also means the start of a new one, a new challenge, a new opportunity to be on the court. He loves every second of it

You know you're probably the worst person on the world for feeling this way about someone you love, but every time you see that gleam in his eyes, any pride and happiness you feel on his behalf is stained with resentment and an envy so bitter it stays on your tongue for days

You've never had that gleam in your eyes. You've never loved something so entirely, so completely as Wakatoshi loves volleyball

You honestly doubt you ever will

It's not like you're talentless or you don't have hobbies, you have the things you're good at and you have the things you like to do but it's not the same

You want so desperately to know what he feels like, to be doing something and to think, I could do this for the rest of my life and die happy

on your worst days, you wonder why he stays by your side at all

You watch him play, surrounded by his court and his team (no the court or the team, his.) And you wonder what he could get from you that he couldn't get from the sting of the ball on his palm, or the squeak of his shoes on hardwood

He's brilliant, wherever he goes be burns so brightly you swear he leaves scorch marks. What could a forest fire possibly want from a candle?

You watch them play a game against some college team, they win straight sets and Wakatoshi dominated the court, scoring a majority of the points. you're quiet on your way home, and he asks if you were bored by the game

You immediately tell him no, because on most days you love seeing him play, and you try and explain how you feel

He doesn't understand what you're talking about, obviously

Contrary to what most people think, your boyfriend isn't stupid or dense. He has trouble understanding different social cues and conceptualizing some of the more complicated emotions other people feel, but he's not an idiot

But these specific insecurities are something he's never had to face. For him, it's been volleyball since the start. His earliest memories are of his father in the yard, tossing a blue and yellow ball into the air while he sits on the engawa, chubby hands holding tight to a pink vabo-chan plush

It doesn't make sense to him, if you don't have anything like that, then all you need to do is find something you're good at, correct? Then you'll be happy

He tells you this, in his usual matter-of-fact way. (you can imagine how that went)

He doesn't understand why your eyes go glassy, or why you tell him you'll be fine walking by yourself for the rest of the way

But he does understand that he's made you upset, and he knows that he never wants to look into your eyes and see tears that he's put there

As he walks back to his dorm, he's wracking his brain trying to make sense of how you told him you felt, and what he said in response

He's still thinking as he enters the doorway, ignoring Tendou's greeting as he neatly removes his runners and puts them away

This, of course, alerts his redheaded friend, knowing Wakatoshi was taught to mind his manners

He leaves whatever he was doing to see him at the entrance, taking in his pinched expression. He knows that Wakatoshi walks you home after every game, and it doesn't take a genius to connect the dots

He quickly presses the pad of his thumb between Wakatoshi's furrowed eyebrows, smoothing the lines there

"trouble in paradise, Wakatoshi-kun? You can't keep frowning like that you know, you'll get wrinkles! Everyone already thinks you're an old man"

Wakatoshi trusts his best friend, even if he teases him constantly. Besides you, Tendou is his main confidant

He explains what happened much like someone would explain a mission report, in perfect unbiased detail. He tell him what you said, how he thought and responded and your reaction. Tendou is always patient with him, giving him his full attention.

After he finishes his story, his friend sits on his haunches in the middle of the hallway for a few minutes, pointer finger to his chin, head cocked and eyes to the ceiling, hmmmmmming thoughtfully

Wakatoshi waits at the entrance of their dorm room until Tendou snaps his eyes away from the ceiling and onto him

"Wakatoshi kun, I'm going to need you to imagine something for me"

His eyebrows pinch together again, but he nods

"Imagine you never played volleyball, you're exactly the same in every way, except your dad never showed you so you never learned how to play. Try and imagine who you'd be"

Wakatoshi tries his best to imagine, he replaces the blue and yellow ball in his memory with a red one, the bouncy kind they sell in bins at the grocery store. He replaces vabo-chan with some kind of stuffed animal wearing a bow

He thinks about school, about going straight home after class is over, and going to the gym only on weekends

He finds he's skipping parts of his life in large gaps, empty spaces he doesn't know what to do with, his future completely blank. It's terrifying.

Tendou must see the dawning horror on his face because he jumps up quickly with a flourish, clapping his hands together once to draw Wakatoshi out of his daydream

Tendou looks at him, smiling and says "y/n-chan doesn't have their volleyball. Most people aren't as lucky as you, finding your volleyball so early Wakatoshi-kun. Some people never find their's at all"

He stands at the entrance quietly for awhile after Tendou returns to his room, thinking about how scary it felt to imagine, even for a few minutes, his life full of the blanks that his sport filled

He wonders how it would be like to have those blanks empty all the time, with not even a clue how to complete them

Swallowing his pride, Wakatoshi realizes he wouldn't be able to live like that. Wouldn't be able to go forward into such unknowable territory, under such impossible odds

He thinks about you waking up every day, seeing your life full of blanks, and still pushing forwards despite it

He doesn't get much sleep that night.

You wake up in the morning to Wakatoshi's text ringtone

7:10am Toshi <3: Call in sick for first period.

7:10am Toshi <3: I am going to pick you up at 8.

7:13am Toshi <3: I will bring you breakfast.

7:27am Toshi <3: Wear a light jacket, it's chilly.

The half of you that's still hurt over yesterday wants to tell him to shove breakfast up his ass, but then you realise something

You stare at your phone, deeply confused

Doesn't he have volleyball practice before school?

You get ready quickly, and sure enough, when you walk out of your door at exactly 8:00, Wakatoshi is there.

He's wearing his tracksuit and runners, and he hands you a paper bag from the conbini. There's an apple, a bag of grapes and onigiri. In his other hand he's holding a warm drink, written on the lid is your favourite, exactly how you like it

"I am taking you to the park."

You tilt your head up at him, confused

"don't you have volleyball practice?"

"I'm skipping. We are going to feed the ducks."

The idea of Ushijima Wakatoshi skipping volleyball practice stuns you into silence, and you simply follow his lead to the direction of the park, you walking and him doing some sort of ridiculous exercise thing that looks like it'd make you puke

When you get there, you're happy to find that your usual bench is empty.

Wakatoshi pulls a water bottle out of his ridiculously-deep men's tracksuit pockets while you take the bunch of grapes out of the bag, neatly dividing it in half. You decide to take the big half of the grape bunch for once, because he was being a jerk yesterday and you deserve to feed the ducks more than he does. You give him his half and you both start feeding the ducks in silence

After awhile, he decides to speak

"Tendou made me imagine something yesterday"

You turn to face him, but he's still looking at the ducks

"he told me to imagine my life if I'd never played volleyball"

He frowns

"he said to imagine everything about me was the same, except I never started playing. I found that it was difficult"

"there were many things I found I couldn't fill in, both in my life and in myself"

"but the worst part was imagining the future. I couldn't imagine a single thing to put in it"

"I wouldn't be able to live like that. To live every day and see blank spaces and uncertainties. It sounds terrible"

He pauses for a moment and you're like :/ wow king thanks for the pep talk

But he takes a deep breath and he continues

"I think, for a person to face that uncertainty and keep pushing forward, they would have to be exceptional"

Your head snaps to look at him so fast you almost get whiplash

Exceptional

There's a word that you've never used to describe yourself

"I think, that if I knew someone like that, I would tell them that they are strong in a way that I doubt I will ever be"

He finally turns to look at you, and you try your best to see him through the tears distorting your vision

"after awhile of thinking, I finally thought of something that I could put in that blank future. Would you like to know what it was?"

You just nod, not trusting your words. His big hands gently engulf your own and for a moment you're absolutely certain Ushijima Wakatoshi will be the death of you

"if I didn't have Volleyball, if I didn't have a single clue of what I could do with my future, if I still had you by my side, I think I would be alright"

One hit K.O.

He keeps going though, as if he didn't just kill you

"if you would have me, I'd like to be in your blank future. For as long as it takes for you to find your volleyball, I'll be there. If it's months or years or decades,"

"if decades pass and you never find your volleyball, I would still like to stay by your side. Maybe your volleyball is looking for volleyball?"

His face contorts in consideration of the idea, and you can't help but laugh wetly, your tears soaking into his jacket as you bury your face into his arm

He presses a soft kiss to your head

"I apologize for what I said last night. I didn't understand"

You only shake your head

You two sit in companionable silence for a little longer so you can eat your breakfast, then you both walk to second period hand in hand

It's only in the boredom of your math class that you realize the gravity of what your boyfriend had said to you in the park

11:08 you: Tendou

11:08 you: was I tripping

11:08 you: or did Wakatoshi /propose/ to me in the park today

Tendou is typing......

A/N: I've never posted this kind of stuff before so comments would really be appreciated! Like if there's something I could do to make my stuff easier to read or whatever I wanna hear it! Even if it's mean I promise I'll only cry a little

[blackmissfrizzle]

Angel’s Girl

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel wants everyone to know you’re his girl. Also, part of a request from @brownsugarcoffy​/  Hi! I don't know if your taking any request, but I saw this picture of this necklace with Angel on it. I was wondering if you would write a imagine of Angel Reyes giving the reader a necklace with his name to claiming her as his old lady and now Angel now wants to only see her wearing his name as they make love. I really adore your writing and know you will do it justice. ❤

Warnings: A lil angst, a lil smut, a whole lotta fluff and cheesiness. 

Here’s more of my work or if you would like to be notified here’s my taglist

At some point, you and Angel knew you had a forever kind of love. The kind of love where you get tattoos expressing that love. When it was your two-year anniversary, he propositioned the idea.

He showed you the sketches he drew of your name. He was so excited, that it physically hurt you to burst his bubble. “Angel, I love you, but there’s no way I’m getting your name tattooed on me.” Angel grabbed you by the back of your neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know, mi dulce. You’re too practical for that, so that’s why I drew you these.”

Moving his page of his drawing of your name Angel revealed a sheet of paper full of angel wings drawings. The one in the center, immediately caught your attention. “That one! That’s the one!”

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked nervously. Angel had only shown his drawings to you and EZ. He was too insecure to share them with to anyone else.

“Duh! And I’ll get ‘em on my fingers and go like this,” you flicked your wrist. “And tell them my super amazingly talented boyfriend drew them.”

“Handsome. Your super amazingly talented handsome boyfriend.”

“Oh, how could I forget!?” You smacked your forehead. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” He kissed your temple and listened to you plan when you and he would get the tattoos while he rubbed the ring finger you flicked at him earlier, thinking how well it would look with an engagement ring.

--

Angel just loved how you showed off your tattoos. Or better yet how you explained the meaning behind them. Club hang arounds? You flaunted that shit and in the next breath you threatened to punch them dead in the face if they ever disrespect you by flirting with Angel. Dudes hitting on you at the bar? You shot them down with the quickness and told them you only belonged to one person and fluttered your fingers like you were already married.

But one day the tattoos weren’t enough. Angel didn’t know what it was, but he knew he needed something else to say you’re his. An engagement ring was out of the question because he had yet to find the perfect one. Luckily, one day he stumbled onto a heart locket that had his name engraved in it and he knew that was it. That would show everyone you were his old lady.

When he brought the necklace to you, you were automatically in love, but you also had to tease him. He was practically going all caveman on you when he requested you always wear it. “Damn Angel, I might as well get your name tattooed on my forehead.”

“Angel!” You hit him as he was seriously mulling over the idea. “I’m just kidding, querdia. We want to take attention away from your big ole forehead not bring more to it.”

--

With your forgetful self, one day you forgot to put your necklace back on after the gym. That didn’t sit well with Angel, especially since you and him weren’t on the best of terms.

“Where the fuck is your necklace, Y/N?”

“In the car. I forgot to put it back on.” You set down your gym bag, went into the kitchen and got you a bottle of water.

“You forgot? Didn’t I tell you to keep it on at all times?” His insecurities were flaring up, driving him to be crazily possessive.

“Angel, I’m not your damn property! When you get that through your thick ass skull give me a call!” And with that you ran out the door with him calling after you was cut off by you slamming the door and running into your car.

That’s how you ended up at the bar, listening to some lame pickup lines.

“Angel, that’s a pretty name.”  The guy pointed to your necklace.

Soon as you decided you were going to the bar you put the necklace back on. “It is.” You replied in a monotone voice, keeping your eyes straight ahead. He didn’t take the hint that you were not interested and continued to talk to you.

When you raised your glass to take a sip, he noticed your tattoos and made some corny joke. Somehow, he kept going even though that was like the fifth joke you didn’t laugh at.

From afar Angel was watching the interaction partly amused and partly jealous. He wanted you to tell the guy get lost, but he could clearly see your annoyance and it was funny to him. He decided he’ll let it go on for a little while longer to let you suffer some more unless it got out of hand.

“So, Angel what’s a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?” The stranger was about to put his hand on your thigh, but he finally picked up on some social cues and stopped himself. “I was enjoying my drink and my name’s not Angel.”

“What? It says it right there.” He pointed to your locket. Oh, this man was dumber than you thought. “Doesn’t mean it’s my name.”

“Then whose name is it?” He got defensive, he didn’t appreciate being made a fool of.

“Her boyfriend’s.” Angel finally decided to intervene when he saw the guy become agitated.

The sleazebag was about to be Billy badass, but then he saw Angel’s kutte and became a stuttering mess. “Sor-so-so-sor-sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girl. My bad.” He didn’t even give Angel time to threaten him. He ran off afraid of what could happen.

“Took you long enough off.” Halfway through your one-sided conversation with your unwanted suitor you saw Angel’s reflection through the bar’s mirror. “You knew I was here? Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I thought you would.”

Angel took your glass and drunk the rest of your drink. “Nah, it was too much fun seeing you suffer.”

“Asshole!” You playfully shoved Angel.

He started to laugh but it eventually died down. “I’m sorry, querida.”

“For being an asshole at home or being one here?”

“At home. That shit here was too funny.” He backed away before you could hit him again. “Seriously though, I’m sorry. I don’t think of you as my property. Yeah this,” Angel moved in closer to grab your necklace, “it means you’re my girl, but the deeper meaner is that you own my heart.”

“So that means I’m not your whore you can fuck however and whenever you want?” You asked with a smirk.

“Check, please!”

—

Angel had you twisted up like some damn pretzel, but you loved it. As soon as you got home, he got on his knees and made you cum three times with his mouth and he would’ve gone for the fourth if you didn’t beg him to fuck you.

“Shit! Who’s pussy is this?” Angel was pounding into you, his eyes were focused on your locket swinging against your neck. “It’s yours Daddy!”

“Damn right it is.” He took your left hand and sucked your ring finger. With his hand he took a hold of your neck. “And next time some little bitch tried talking to you, you shit that shit down. You understand me?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered with tears streaming down your face. Angel was too good at this. You could feel another orgasm mounting up and it felt like it would be the most powerful of all.

Angel noticed you trying to hold back your orgasm because he didn’t give you the permission to cum. “Good girl.” He praised you, leaning forward until your foreheads met. “Daddy’s making you feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head, “You’re so big, I can feel you deep in my tummy.”

He pressed a hand to your stomach. “You’re right, princesa. I’m deep in them guts. But can you do me a favor baby girl?”

“Anything for you.” Angel smiled against your neck. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” And just like that you did. You screamed Angel’s name at the top of your lungs almost drowning out his own shouts of pleasure.

After that thorough round you wanted to bundle up and go to sleep but Angel made you get up. “Hygiene over comfortability,” he said.

As you went to use the restroom, he changed the sheets and started the bath. Just before you joined him in the tub, he handed you your shower cap. It was blissful silence as you two cleaned up.

Again, Angel was rubbing in your left ring finger. Ever since you got the tattoo there, he’s been obsessed, but he never gave the same attention to your middle finger with the other angel wing.

“Angel?”

“Yes, querida?”

“Why do you keep a hand on my ring finger?”

“Man, I thought you were the smart one of us two.” You splashed some water his way and he quickly apologized knowing you could start a splash war like nothing.

He brought up said finger to his lips and kissed it. “Because I can’t stop imagining how good it’ll look with a ring on it.”

His answer appeased you which led you to your conditions of your proposal. Angel listened eagerly and ingrained each requirement in his head. There was no way he was gonna mess this up.

--

He hadn’t been shopping for it, he just accidentally stumbled on it while at the mall. Weeks later, Angel finally found the perfect engagement ring for you. He was so excited that he planned to propose that night, but your nails weren’t done and one of your requirements were to make sure your nails weren’t ‘raggedy’ as you would put it.

Then another couple of weeks later the opportunity presented itself. You were on your lunch break and you came to the clubhouse to spend it with him and the guys. Your mouth was full of tacos like chipmunk cheeks while you yelled ‘No fucking way!’ at Coco and Angel thought there was no one he rather spend the rest of his days with.

He did a quick check of your nails and they still look good from the day before. Yeah there were people around, but it was people you and him consider family. Your hair was done, and you had a nice outfit on, so all the boxes were checked.

“Querida,” he called out to you to stop you from arguing with Coco.

“Yeah babe?” You turned to him and found him on one knee. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and started wiggling around doing some weird celebratory dance.

The guys turned to see what was happening and they all cracked a smile. “About damn time.” Coco slapped the back of Angel’s shoulders. The rest of the Mayans came out with their guns out when they heard your screams, but quickly put them away when they saw what was happening.

Each time Angel tried to say something you would just squeal and continue dancing, not giving him a chance to get one-word in. “Prospect, get her.” Bishop ordered, seeing how uncomfortable Angel was getting from kneeling on the gravel.

EZ wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other over your mouth. “I know you’re excited to be my sister-in-law, but you can’t say yes if he can’t ask the question. So, can you be quiet and be still?” You nodded your head fervently and EZ released you.

“Thanks, bro.” Angel cleared his throat before looking at you. He was getting nervous again, but then he saw how you had to contain your excitement and he was overwhelmed with love again. “You know I’m not good with words and shit, but I’ll try. You’re my everything, Y/N. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I honestly can’t think of my life without you because it would be too depressing. God, I hope this isn’t too corny, but here it goes: what’s the point of an angel if there’s no heaven? So, with that being said, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Angel was lucky he started to stand up because you tackled him once he slid the ring on. He was attacked with kisses all over his face and he wondered how could he had been worried about you saying no at all.

“You know you’re gonna be stuck with me forever, right?”

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with that. What’s the point of heaven if I don’t have my Angel with me?” Forever with Angel sounded like paradise and you couldn’t wait.

Tagging: @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @sadeyesgf​ @woahitslucyylu​ @starrynite7114​ @angelreyesgirl​ @blessedboo​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @richonne4life​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​

[jayeray-hq]

Sakusa : You Know We’re Meant to Be

JayeRay’s fluff prompts

Post Time Skip/Manga Spoilers!

Warnings: A little but of Hurt/Comfort and bullying but lots of Fluff after

If you like this, please check out the Character Masterlist!

This is part of a collaboration I’m doing with @lilolpotato​ some fluff to counter some of the hate from the Sakusa Hate Night thing that was going around 😊💖 Also a huge huge thank you to the amazingly talented @yuujiscurse​ for the banner! Their work is amazing! 😊💖

You weren’t sure if they simply didn’t know you could hear them whispering or if they simply didn’t care, as you stood waiting for your boyfriend to emerge from the locker rooms. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to wait long, Sakusa was usually the first out due to insisting on showering before the others of the team could infect the space with their germs. Still today you hoped he would hurry, even faster than usual, so you could leave the receptionist and the woman she was talking to, likely someone who worked in the building, far behind you.

“What does he even see in her?” the woman who’d greeted you almost every time you’d entered the building with a saccharine smile that was apparently hiding a mouthful of venom whispered to her blond coworker.

             “I certainly don’t see anything special,” the other woman, a pretty brunette agreed giving you a clear once over a blatantly dismissive look on her face, “She’s probably absolutely hideous behind that mask she wears all the time.”

             Your hands balled into fists in your jacket, as you tried to ignore them, reminding yourself that you wore the mask for a reason. It was for both your comfort, and your boyfriends. Sakusa’s germaphobia was a very real fear, and frankly you didn’t mind doing a few things to accommodate his fear, or make him feel more comfortable where you could, especially since you knew he would and had done the same for you before.

 Wearing a mask out in public was a simple thing, and frankly considering the pollution in Japan, not all that uncommon. The women were clearly being deliberately petty and you sank deeper into the jacket burrowing into it, and taking comfort in the familiar smell and feel of it. It was one of Sakusa’s old Itachiyama jackets, one he’d gifted to you when the two of you had first started dating.

 It was warm and comfortable, and a blatant reminder of how very much your boyfriend cared about you. After all very few people were allowed to touch his things, and even fewer were given gifts, especially sentimental gifts. Komori had teased the two of you for days when Sakusa had first given it to you, exclaiming every time he saw you wearing it that even he had never been allowed to touch Sakusa’s Itachiyama jackets and he was his cousin.

 It smelled like him, clean and crisp from the detergent he preferred to use for all of your clothing, one you’d become quite fond of yourself, and that you associated solely with him. It took your mind off the cruel women in front of you, at least for a little while.

 “Can you believe just the other day he dropped his towel on accident, I tried to hand it to him, and he gave me the most disgusted look and just walked away,” the brunette told the receptionist clearly deeply offended by the incident, “As if I were something dirty he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.”

 “I’ve tried to give him pens to use before,” the receptionist admitted equally huffy as she explained, “He won’t touch them, not until he disinfects them with a wipe first, and even then he’ll only hold them if he’s wearing gloves.”

 You sighed quietly to yourself, a part of you wanting to storm over there and defend your boyfriend and an equal part understanding, just a bit where they were coming from. Sakusa had a fear, one that was very real to him, even if it seemed silly to others, and he had extreme ways of reacting when forced to face that fear. Still even you could admit sometimes his inability to properly interpret social cues could leave him coming off cold, or even cruel even if he didn’t mean to be that way.

 “I bet she’s not even his girlfriend,” the spiteful brunette hissed, “Just an obsessed groupie who follows him around.”

 “He probably treats her like trash,” the receptionist added in a cruel enjoyment to her unkind speculations, “Which is really no less than she deserves honestly.”

 The women were clearly lashing out, and on the only target the had readily available, but that didn’t stop you from feeling hurt or furious on behalf of your boyfriend. How dare they insinuate he treated you badly? The idea was infuriating especially when you knew how very hard he tried for you.

 Sure, your relationship wasn’t all smooth sailing, but then what relationship was? Yes, you’d had to exercise a lot of patience as Sakusa slowly worked himself up to touching you, but it had been completely and utterly worth it. The feeling of being held in his arms, knowing he desperately wanted you to be there, so much so that he fought off his worst fears in order to do so was indescribable. You’d honestly never felt as loved as you did when your germophobic boyfriend reached his hand out to you, assuring you that he wanted to be able to touch you.

 Even several years in you still couldn’t cuddle without a thorough shower beforehand, and some aspects of physical intimacy, including public displays of affection were especially hard, but it was worth it. You were so proud, both of your boyfriend and how very far the two of you had come as a couple, and it infuriated you that these two women, who knew absolutely nothing of his struggles would dare to insinuate such awful things about him.

 Oh, you knew they probably didn’t actually believe them. You’d dealt with jealousy from other women before. Your boyfriend was undeniably incredibly good looking, stunning even, and for some reason a lot of people found his supposedly aloof and cold demeanor cool and enticing. He’d had fans for as long as you’d known him.

 Still it didn’t stop you from wanting to march right up to the women and force them to take it back. They could say what they wanted about you, but in no way shape or form would you allow them to badmouth your secretly dorky and completely socially inept boyfriend. Honestly one more word from them and you might’ve done just that, fortunately or unfortunately your furious thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of your boyfriend.

 “Hey,” the sound of his voice pulled you from your murderous thoughts and turned your attention to Sakusa who had emerged from the locker rooms at last. His hair was still a little damp from his shower, the dark curls not quite as springy as they usually were as they fell across his forehead, and he was fully zipped into his Black Jackals jacket, hands in his pockets the traditional mask covering half his face, “let’s get going before the others come out.”

  “Sure,” you agreed trying to keep your tone as upbeat and normal as possible ready to fall into step with him and head to the store, which was the whole reason you’d agreed to meet him at the Black Jackals usual practice gym in the first place.

 However it seemed you hadn’t done a very good job of concealing the lingering upset from overhearing the women’s gossip session. That or your boyfriend was getting better at reading you, though both honestly were possibilities. He stopped in his tracks, forcing you to come to a halt as well, his brows sitting heavily over his dark eyes as he peered at you intently, clear concern visible in them.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice taking on the clipped edge that let you know he was deeply concerned. Apparently, you’d been more obvious than you’d thought.

 “Nothing,” you tried to assure him, forcing your tone to be upbeat, not wanting to drag him down, “Why would something be wrong?”

 “Don’t lie to me,” he ordered, the words blunt, but the clear care in his tone taking any sting out of them. Honestly he had very little in the way of tact at times like these, something you should probably be annoyed by, but could only find strangely endearing.

 “It really is nothing,” you assured him, your own tone softening at his clear concern for you, “Just overheard people gossiping about us again.”

 “Were you upset by them?” he asked hesitantly, clearly peering into your eyes, his whole body fidgeting with restless energy, a tension to him that reminded you of a rubber band stretched and ready to snap. For all that many read him as uncaring you knew that Sakusa was extremely protective of the few people he allowed close to him, and that you were one of the privileged few. He was clearly ready and willing to tear verbal strips off anyone who’d dared upset you.

 “Yes,” you told him, figuring honesty was probably the best policy at this point, “But only because they were saying untrue things about you, about how you treat me.”

 Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed at that, and his eyes softened. You couldn’t see his mouth because of the mask, but long familiarity let you know the corners would be curling up in relief,. He clearly didn’t care a bit what people said about him, an attitude you wished rather desperately that you could emulate.

 “Let them say what they want,” he told you firmly, “It’s not something that bothers me, so don’t let it bother you.”

 “If only it were that easy,” you told him your own lips curling into a wry smile.

 Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled one of his hands from his jacket pockets and gently took hold of your face, the warmth of his shockingly bare fingers on your skin making your heart flip over in your chest  his thumb gently swiping across your cheekbone rendering you completely and utterly speechless.

 “The only opinions about my person that I care about are opinions from people who matter to me,” he told you sincerity dripping from very word, “And the only opinion I care about when it comes to our relationship is yours.”

 Your heart was beating a rapid tattoo against your ribs at his fervent declaration, especially since you knew he meant every word. Your boyfriend was nothing if not completely and utterly honest when it came to you, even brutal at times. He was never one who’d spare your feelings, which was how you knew moments like these were as raw and honest as it was possible to be.

 “I love you Kiyoomi,” you told him a little helplessly, the words falling out of your mouth before you’d had a chance to really think about them.

 “I love you too,” he responded without missing a beat, even if you could see the faintest of pink blushes decorating the tops of his cheekbones over the mask, “And I don’t like seeing you upset. What people say about me doesn’t bother me, so please don’t let it bother you.”

 “But wouldn’t you be upset if people were saying things about me?” you pointed out reasonably, well aware he would be, as he’d proven many times over in the past.

 He clearly couldn’t think of an argument to that and so instead remained silent, so you continued, “You mean so much to me Kiyoomi and it hurts to hear anyone might think poorly of you or insinuate cruel things about you and how you treat me that are blatantly untrue.”

 He watched you with soft eyes, his thumb still gently tracing your cheek as he explained, “So long as those things don’t cause you to doubt me I could care less.”

 “Never,” you assured him fervently, “I like to think that by now I know you pretty well Kiyoomi and I don’t think there’s anything ridiculous petty gossipers could to make me doubt you, to doubt us. Despite the fact that we’ve had our challenges I always felt like we fit well together. Like two pieces of a puzzle.”

 “I’m glad,” he admitted freely, “I’ve always hoped that you’d felt the way I do.”

 “The way you do?” you repeated curiously.

 “Like you know you’re meant to be,” he told you the words stealing the breath from your lungs and you were fairly sure you forgot how to breathe entirely as he leaned forward to press a gentle masked kiss to your forehead.

 Fortunately, or unfortunately you were pulled from your thoughts by raucous sounds from behind the two of you. It turned out you’d been so wrapped up in your conversation with your boyfriend you hadn’t noticed you were blocking the hallway and keeping the rest of the team as a captive audience of sorts. Apparently the private, intimate moment wasn’t nearly as private as you’d thought, and you were suddenly incredibly grateful the mask helped cover your cherry red cheeks.

 Apparently Bokuto was the one who’d interrupted your moment, too moved by it to stay quiet any longer, and now the former Fukurodani Ace was fervently congratulating your poor boyfriend about how smooth he was. Sakusa looked incredibly put upon as the team swept you up with them as they left the building in a small herd, all of them gently teasing or congratulating the two of you on how very cute your relationship was.

 In the midst of all the chaos your boyfriend managed to sneak his hand into yours, his fingers twining together to keep you close and connected to him. You accepted the gesture, feeling warm, and secure and completely and utterly loved, enough to shoot the poisonous receptionist and her bitter friend a blinding smile on your way out the door.

 Sakusa was right. Their opinions, especially on your relationship, shouldn’t matter to you, at the end of the day you knew he loved you and that was more than enough.

[lighteyed]

this is a place where i don’t feel alone / jack kline

summary: jack and reader bonding after a hunt <3

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i found this in my google docs and like... it was PRETTY cute and i didn’t want to let it waste away in my docs so here she is :) i want to post more and just write whatever i want for whoever i want and be happy on here. and i do love jack

Freshly showered after his first hunt, Jack wanders through your open bedroom door. His golden hair is messy like he’s never seen a brush before (which, to be fair, he most likely hasn’t) and his brown eyes are large in their curiosity. He hadn’t been in your room yet, despite living at the bunker for a couple weeks now. For the most part, he had no reason to go in there. And regardless, he was too nervous to even ask. You, however, were the only person in the entire building he felt completely at ease around, even more so than Castiel. The way you looked at him was reassuring. He never saw fear or apprehension when he met your gaze, just a desire to understand. A yearning for a friend. He’d heard your shower squeak to a stop, had waited a couple moments before trying to enter the room (learned that the hard way), and now here he was. Shy, awkward, but there.

 You placed the novel you were reading down on your bed when you noticed him, motioning for him to come further inside. “How you feeling after your first hunt, Jack? You okay?”

 He nodded, picking up all the little items scattered across your dresser. So new to everything, it was all unfamiliar. He touched a necklace lightly. “Yes, I think so. I didn’t realize there would be so much blood.”

 “Comes with the gig. You’ll get used to it.” If he sticks around that long. “Are you okay with using the shower now? Like the shampoo, the conditioner, body wash, the whole shebang?”

 “Yes! Thank you for making Dean show me how to do it, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t, and Dean did not want to talk to me much during the process of showing me how to use the shampoo-”

  The cute furrowing of his brow as he fumbles around for an answer to his question makes you giggle. His inability to pick up on social cues was beginning to become incredibly endearing. “Yeah, well, it’s just different, and Dean probably just felt awkward ‘cause you know, you weren’t clothed.”

 “Oh, is that not okay?” Jack’s face scrunched up again.

 “Depends who you ask and what the situation is.” You patted the edge of your bed, gesturing for him to sit down with you. When he sat, it was stiff, hands folded neatly in his lap as he continued to gaze around your room. “But you got all the blood off okay? I know you heal quick and stuff but it was all in your hair and I don’t think Dean really drilled in the concept of a deep conditioning treatment.”

 “I think so,” he repeated, patting the top of his head. His hair was still damp and felt clean enough. You leaned forward to examine him, though, breathing in the scent of shampoo. It was kind of funny, the way he had a newborn baby look and feel to him. Even his scent was like a baby’s. It’s sweet, really. “I used the one in the pink bottle.”

 “My shampoo? I figured, you smell like flowers,” you grinned, leaning back against the headboards.

 He tilted his head, “Is that a good thing?”

 “Definitely,” you reassured. “Most boys don’t smell nearly half as good as you do right now. Your hair’s all messy, though. Do you know how to use a hairbrush?” You already knew the answer, standing up and grabbing yours from the dresser before making your back to the bed. “Sit here,” you motioned for him to move up closer to you, his back to your chest. Jack did so hesitantly, as he did most things involving you.

 “Dean didn’t teach me about a… hairbrush?” He relaxed a little at the gentleness of your hand smoothing out his hair, letting his shoulders slack.

 “Dean can barely remember a toothbrush, so much on his mind,” you say, lifting the brush and running it through Jack’s hair. There weren’t many tangles to sort through; his hair was cropped short, but it was thick enough where it needed a brushing here and there. It was nice hair. Everything about Jack was nice. He had nice hair, nice eyes, a nice smile whenever he was around you, and in general Jack was a sweetheart. You could never fathom Dean’s inability to give the kid a chance. He was never anything but kind. He didn’t even recognize Lucifer as his father. He viewed Castiel as his dad, and Castiel was the opposite of evil. He was practically harmless. And when Jack was here, half in your arms with his eyes drooping shut from the pleasantness of your soft caress, he was harmless, too.

 “This is very relaxing,” Jack tells you, breathing deeply as you continued. “Do you brush your hair out, too?”

 “Of course, but it’s not as relaxing to do it myself. Someone else brushing my hair is probably… I don’t know, calming. It’s the best.” One of the best feelings in the world really. Better than almost anything else, and something you missed dearly. A sigh fell from your lips, but you smoothed back his hair again anyway. “I think you’re all good now.” You expected for him to say his goodnights and leave the room, but he lingered. He had more questions. Mouthfuls of them.

 “Does anyone else brush your hair for you? Like you do for me?” He scoots up toward where you sat, shoulder to shoulder with you now.

 “Not for a long time. My mom used to, before I would go to school. Even when I got older, she’d wanna brush my hair for me. Said it calmed her down, helped her to stop thinking about how fast I was growing up.” You could almost see the gears whirring about in Jack’s mind, trying to figure out the story. Sam and Dean were your brothers, but you talked about your mother in a different way than they would talk about Mary.

 “But, Mary is alive, isn’t she-”

“Mary is great, but she isn’t my mom.” Jack waited patiently for you to continue, staring intently. “See, you’re half angel and you’re half regular human. Sam and Dean are just half my brothers. So, it’s kind of similar, except not really, but sort of… you get me?” Jack blinked twice, and you took that as a no. “Their mom is alive now, in 2018, but she died when Sammy was a baby and Dean was a little kid. Dean is twenty years older than me, and Sammy is sixteen years older than me, so their mom and dad had, like, no time to actually make me… uh together. Baby making is a different story, Jack, so don’t ask. Anyway, our dad, John, had me with a different woman a long time after Mary had passed away. We also have another brothers, and Dean says it’s because our dad can’t keep it in his pants, but I’ve never met him. Something about a cage. But yeah. We have the same dad, just different moms. And I don’t have my mom. So I’m totally out of luck with the whole parent thing.”

  You were sure Mary didn’t loathe you or anything, but you could tell it made her sad that she hadn’t been able to ever have her own real daughter, and that even though she’d been gone a long time when you had been conceived, you were still the result of John and someone else. It was understandable. You felt a bit nervous around her, too. Like you’d never be able to say the right thing or be the right kind of pseudo-daughter.

 “Where’s your mom? Why don’t you have her?”

 “She died, five years ago. Some demon’s sick way of getting all the Winchester siblings together again. I came back from school and she was just… dead. Sam and Dean were called in for the case and Cas told them who I was ‘cause I guess he could recognize it or something and now here I am.”

 “Do you miss her? I miss my mom all the time, and I never got to meet her.”

  “All the time, Jack. All the time.” He hadn’t meant to make you sad, but he felt it lingering in the air now. Your nose was scrunched slightly, your fists clenched and your eyes staring down at hands. “The day she died, that morning before I left for school, I wouldn’t let her brush my hair or even hug me goodbye. It was my first day of high school. I was fourteen.”

 Jack doesn’t know what’s come over him when he swipes his hand softly across your cheek, the tear smearing across your face. It’s so sweet and charming you almost wonder if maybe Dean had been teaching him how to flirt. “Thanks, Jack.”

 “I can- I can brush your hair, if you want.” He takes the brush, and you slide up between his legs and lean back against him. He runs it through your hair so very delicate in each of his movements you feel yourself flashing back to when it was you and your mother in your living room, always just the two of you no matter what, and you feel that same sense of peace wash over you as it had when you were a child. How could this boy, who provided serenity so quickly and completely, ever be anything but inherently good? It was impossible.

Jack was so content in his own actions, he didn’t realize you were already half asleep. Even breaths, relaxing into him, eyes fluttering closed. Before you can drift off, he says one final thing, “Our moms are probably in Heaven together. I think they would be friends. Best friends.”

 “Yeah? You think so? Even though God’s gone for good and it’s all kinda shitty up there?”

 “The best people go there. And our moms were the best.”

 He says it so confidently that you knock the brush from his hands as you turn around so suddenly to hug him, burying your face in his neck. “You’re so sweet, Jack. Thanks for everything,” you mumble against him. He hesitantly wraps his arms around you, and you smile so broadly you think it’s going to slip your face and your heart wide open.

 You are such a goner.

 And when you kiss him on the cheek before he leaves your room for his own, he blushes like a rose in the sunlight; he knows he’s kind of a goner, too.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Puppy Jewelry- Jasper Badun x OC

Description: After a fight with Angela over a necklace, Jasper has to think about how to make it up to her. Luckily, there was a four legged animal there to aid him. 

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: The title sucks but I did my best

Today was just not Jasper’s day. Well, that may have been an understatement. This was just not Jasper’s week. He didn’t even know what started it all, but he was ready for the week to end. Cruella had been stressing out for the past month over an upcoming summer show, which meant that she was a lot snappier than usual. Horace hadn’t been much help, as usual he wasn’t understanding social cues so he didn’t know when to stop talking. That made Cruella snap at him more, to which Jasper defended him, which in turn would cause them to get in a small fight, makeup before the day ended, then repeat the next day. It was like a vicious cycle that made Jasper more irritated as the days went by and today it had all come to a head for something completely unrelated. 

“I’m back,” Jasper called as he walked into Hell Hall, Horace by his side. 

“About time,” Cruella grumbled as she walked over to them. “Do you have it?” She held out her hand expectantly, to which Jasper placed the handle of a bag in. 

“200 white pearl beads, just like you demanded,” he muttered. 

“Great,” Cruella chirped before her smile dropped. “Now move along.” She left no room for discussion before walking away to where the dressmakers were. Horace and Jasper watched her go, and the latter’s eyes narrowed a bit. 

“You’re welcome Cruella,” he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Wasn’t like it was hard to get those or anything.” 

“Thank you boys,” a soft voice came from behind them, making the two turn around. Angela was walking towards them as she tied her sewing apron around her waist, suggesting that she had just come back from lunch. 

“I was the one who asked for them, I didn’t realize that they were hard to retrieve. I would’ve asked for something else if I had known,” she informed them apologetically. Her words made a smile form on Jasper’s face. At least she was grateful. 

“S’alright,” he brushed off. “We got them easily enough. Just promise you’ll make something pretty out of them.” 

“You have my word,” Angela giggled. Jasper nodded with a small laugh then perked up, digging in his pocket. 

“Oh hey, I got something for you while I was out,” he mentioned. Angela’s eyebrows knit together and she stared at him curiously, only to gasp when he pulled a diamond necklace out of his pocket. 

“I know you don’t like extravagant things, so I thought this one would do just nicely,” he explained, holding it up for her to see. The necklace itself wasn’t much, it was a gold chain with a diamond in the center of it, but it was the fact that he saw it and thought of her that made it sentimental. He was right, it was perfect.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, awe in her tone. “Will you put it on me?”

“Of course.” He grinned as she turned around and moved her hair. He wrapped the chain around her neck then clasped it as carefully as he could. Once he was done Angela looked down at it before facing him with a toothy grin. 

“Thank you, Jasper,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Jasper returned the hug then kissed her cheek. 

“Anything for you.” Their sweet moment was interrupted by the socially unaware Horace. 

“Easiest grab we’ve ever done,” he added with a proud smile. Jasper felt Angela still in his arms, and he knew that Horace just said something he shouldn’t have. Angela slowly pulled away from her boyfriend and looked at their friend. 

“Grab?” She repeated. “You mean, like steal?” Horace nodded, none the wiser to the seriousness of her tone. 

“Yeah, it was just sitting out in the open in the shop. No cameras or anything,” he responded in the same proud tone. 

“Horace,” Jasper whisper-yelled, annoyed. “Zip it.” Horace stared at him confused, but Angela spoke before him. 

“You stole this necklace? Why would you do that?” She questioned firmly. Maybe Jasper spoke too soon about her being grateful. 

“Yeah,” Jasper responded as if it was nothing. “What’s the big deal?” He realized his mistake as soon as the question left his lips. Angela’s eyes widened at him. 

“Jasper!” She exclaimed. “You can’t just steal things and expect everything to be okay!” 

“It’s never done me wrong before,” the man defended, trying to keep his cool. “I don’t understand what the problem is, I did something nice for you.” 

“I appreciate that you got this for me, but I don’t want it if you’re just going to steal stuff like this for me,” she retorted. “I know that you got used to shoplifting in the past, but you have money now. It’s time to let the habit die because if you don’t you’ll end up in trouble with more than just me.” Jasper felt his anger boil over at her words.  

“Give it back then,” he demanded hotly. “If you’re going to complain about every little thing then maybe I just shouldn’t do nice things for you.” Angela stared at him surprised. 

“Jasper that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I don’t care. Give me back that stupid necklace. I’ll just give it to Cruella, at least she’ll appreciate it.” Angela’s jaw dropped and she felt herself tearing up from frustration. 

“Fine,” she snapped, then practically ripped the necklace off of her neck. She threw it at him, not caring when it just bounced off his chest. 

"I’m leaving,” she stated, marching over to the dressmaker's room to grab her bag. She called a bye to Cruella, Artie and Horace before leaving, not sparing even a glance at Jasper. It wasn’t until she was outside that she realized 1. She and Artie had taken a cab to get here and 2. It was bloody cold outside and she left her jacket in the house. However, her pride and stubbornness refused to let her go back so she lifted her chin and began walking home. 

It was a long walk home. The spring winds blew harshly against her and her lack of a warm coat was not helping in the slightest. The fact that she was also crying made it worse as her tears would become cold immediately and slide down her face. She took a hot bath upon arriving at her house in an attempt to warm up. During her bath she went over their entire fight, and she became upset once more. Even if she had gotten mad quickly, that didn’t mean that Jasper should’ve compared her to Cruella. Of course Cruella would’ve appreciated it, she’s known Jasper and Horace their whole lives. That was the difference between them, and apparently that meant a lot to Jasper. 

After her (admittedly long) bath, she decided to make tea and watch tv. It was her favorite way to unwind, that’s why she was a bit annoyed when someone knocked on the door. She took a look at the clock on the wall nearby, wondering who would be at her door at 8:00., before making her way to said door. She didn’t look through the peephole before opening the door and regretted it almost immediately. Jasper stood on the other side with an apologetic smile on his face. Before she could close the door or say anything, Jasper held up his arms to reveal a Dalmatian puppy. 

“Say hello to Penny,” he said softly. Angela gasped at the sight of the puppy and her gaze softened. Carefully stepping outside, she picked up the Dalmatian as if she was holding a baby. 

“She's so cute,” Angela cooed, petting Penny behind her ear. “I didn’t know the dog had her puppies already.” Jasper nodded with a small smile. 

“She’s yours. If you want her, that is.” Angela nodded immediately with a bright smile before looking at him. 

“Thank you,” she responded softly. The man nodded once more. 

“Check her collar,” he instructed. Angela furrowed her brows but did as she said, almost immediately finding the diamond necklace from earlier attached to it. Right beside it was a receipt. 

“You paid for it,” she muttered, looking at him with surprise. 

“I also wanted to apologize,” Jasper added. Angela’s shock wore away and she offered him a small smile. 

“How about you come inside and we can talk?” She suggested. The man smiled gratefully at her then followed her inside. 

             The next ten minutes were spent on the couch with Jasper telling Angela all that had been on his mind the past month and how it was affecting him negatively. Angela listened silently, continuing to pet Penny. 

“I wish you would have told me this instead of letting it manifest,” she commented once he was done. “Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten so mad and compared me to your friend.” Jasper looked down, ashamed as his earlier words ran through his head. 

“I know, it was a bloody terrible thing I did. I never compare you to Cruella, that was the only time. That doesn’t make it any better but I want to make up for it,” he responded earnestly. Angela hummed softly, glancing down at Penny. 

“Well, getting me gifts won’t get my forgiveness, but it’s definitely an adorable start.” Jasper grinned when the girl giggled at her own words then nodded. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” 

“How about you help me make dinner and stay over,” she suggested with a playful smile. “Depending on how good you cook, I may just forgive you tonight.” Jasper mimicked her smile. 

“You’re on,” he said before standing. Angela took his hand when he held it out for her and they walked to the kitchen together.

[wangxian-brainrot]

Wenzhou Doctor Au

Zzs is a jaded doctor that’s lost one too many patients and is tired and needs a mental break. Cue the new doctor that transfers to his hospital, wkx, that, according to rumors, hasn’t lost a patient yet. It irritates zzs that he’s so cheery and happy all the time and doesn’t take anything seriously. Wkx loves to bother zzs bc he makes it so fun.

One day, wkx loses a patient in the middle of surgery and zzs finds out and rushes to the OR to comfort him, expecting him to be a huge mess. What he doesn’t expect is for him to be fine. Wkx is walking and talking and moving around and putting things away as he normally would and zzs is confused. He remembers how devastated he was when he lost his first patient and can’t for the life of him understand how wkx is fine.

After zzs shift ends in the middle of the night, he walks home and runs into wkx. He’s completely trashed like he’s been drinking since he left the hospital hours ago. As soon as he sees zzs he latches on to him, leaning on him and grinning at him. Zzs ends up taking him to his apartment and cleaning him up. After he gets him to throw up and change, he makes him lie down on the couch and goes to get a glass of water and some painkillers for wkx in the morning. When he returns, he’s surprised to see wkx sitting up, awake. He’s staring at the wall and when zzs comes closer, he turns to him and, with tears in his eyes, says “It never gets easier, A-Xu. No matter how many times it happens, it never gets easier.” Zzs spends the rest of the night holding wkx as he cries his grief and guilt out.

After that night, they become closer. They start spending their days off together, lunches together, breaks together; it comes to a point where it’s rare to see one without the other, both attached by the hip. Then there’s a 10 car pile up on the highway, and the emergency room is bursting with injured drivers and passengers, and in the aftermath, there’s a little boy, around the age of 2 or 3 who’s left all alone, no parents or family to take care of him. The staff plans on giving him to social services, but he needs somewhere to stay while they figure out what to do with him, so zzs decides to care for him for a few days.

A few days turn into a few weeks, and before he knows it, it’s been 3 months, and he’s practically adopted the kid, Chengling, and, given how often wkx comes over to zzs house, is co-parenting him with wkx. They’ve developed a schedule and moved around their shifts so that someone is always home with him, and they’ve also found a daycare and a backup babysitter on the off chance they both have to go in. They change off who feeds him, plays with him, bathes him, puts him to bed, who cooks, cleans, shops, etc. They’ve practically moved in together, and if one didn’t know it, they’d think zzs and wkx were married when they weren’t even dating. On more then one occasion they’ve had to correct people that no, they’re not married, they’re just friends. As they work together to raise little baby Chengling, they slowly start to fall for each other.

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

I haven't figured out yet how they get together or how to add a-xiang yet, but I'll hopefully figure something out eventually. I'm just a sucker for the co-parenting trope after inhaling so many wangixan co-parenting fics lol

[hateswifi]

Duck Season

Don’t ask me about the title go ask @thecaptainthunder also it is they’re prompt.

The Master: Master List

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

“Good morning, class, as I mentioned last week we have a transfer student,” Madame Bustier greets the class, smiling wide as if it weren’t a Monday morning. Damian rolls his eyes, avoiding anyone who looked like they wanted to talk and headed up to the back corner desk, where no one was sitting. 

It didn’t take long for someone to ignore the social cues he’d dropped because there stood a tan, green-eyed girl.

“You should come sit with me, the class bully sits back here and you don’t want to get mixed up with that,” the harlot says, batting her eyelashes. 

“I’ll take my chances back here,” Damian grumbles back, but once again she doesn’t take the hint.

“Lila, you’re in my seat,” another, sweeter, voice says. The harlot’s smile falters before she retreats down the stairs to stew in anger in her seat.

“You’re late,” he reprimands, looking at the apparent ‘class bully’.

“Welcome to our class, I’m Marinette, the class president,” She smiles, it doesn’t reach her eyes, she’s faking it.

“So class bully and president? Interesting mix.”

“Interesting assumption,” Marinette shrugs, pulling out her classwork. He raises an eyebrow and does the same, who does she think she is to talk back to him.

Needless to say, their relationship didn’t start out the best but it got better.

“I can’t believe they’re such imbeciles,” Damian breaths out, an almost laugh, Marinette thinks to herself. Damian has been in the class for a week now and absolutely hates and loves the class. He hates how stupid the class, but again loves the class because of how idiotic they are.

“What’d she say this time?” Marinettes sighs, sliding into her seat. This was becoming a routine almost, she sits down right before the bell rings and usually has enough time to hear Lila’s amazing stories from Damian.

“It was a classic Jagged Stone story,” Damian sighs.

“I literally know Jagged, and they know that I know him, but yet, in the beginning, I was ‘too jealous’ and now they won’t even listen to anything I say,” Marinette shrugs.

“You know Jagged?” Damian asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s not important, they can look up any of the information she says without having a personal contact, now shhh, class is starting,” Marinette says, ending the conversation. She avoids talking about herself, almost as bad as he does. He doesn’t mind it too much because she doesn’t appear to be a threat, but yet again appearances can be deceiving.

A month into the hell that is his class, he ran into her during one of the many akuma attacks. She had just run into a closet he was running for, he was a bit worried about her because Lila likes to take action during the chaos. He was expecting to see some cliche scene of Lila corning her, but when he opened the door, there stood the Parisian hero.

“What the actual--” He was cut off by her quickly butting in.

“Oh my god! You can’t anything, I have to go, but-”

“I understand, go fight,” Damian says, effectively stopping her rambling.

They had an awkward conversation after her and Chat Noir defeated the akuma, she picked him up and dragged him to a secluded roof away from the public prying eyes, and the numbing idiocy of the class.

“So another way you knew she was lying is you’re Ladybug,” Damian says as soon as they touch down.

“I would’ve known it without being Ladybug, seriously a foreign girl comes in announcing that she’s best friends with a hero but she's been in the country like three days tops, it’s pretty obvious,” Ladybug huffs, dropping her transformation. “Why’d you follow me into the closet?”

“Ehh Lila likes to come up with lies during the chaos, so if you had an alibi I thought it would be helpful,” Damian shrugs.

“Aww, you care about my well being,” Marinette coos, nudging him.

“You’re bearable,” Damian mumbles, a hint of warmth spreading across his cheeks, must be the afternoon sun.

“That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard you say since you transferred,” Marinette points out.

“That doesn’t matter, now let’s leave,” he says, standing.

“You really want to go back to class?” Marinette asks, standing as well.

“No but I don’t want to sit in the sun, so let’s go somewhere else. Are going to get us down?”

“Sorry, I can’t at the moment, but we can climb down the fire escape,” Marinette says, rubbing the back of her neck.

“That will do,” Damian says, easily moving down the escape. 

“Can we stop by my house real quick I want to grab a sketchbook, if that's ok with you,” She asks, pointing at the bakery that’s just down the street from the school.

“You live above the bakery?”

“Yeah, you hungry?”

“No, I don’t like sweets.”

“Your loss then,” Marinette shrugs, entering the back door. She appears a couple of minutes later, putting cookies in her purse. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it. They walk over to the park and sit under a tree in the shade. He just sits in the shade and lets sounds of the birds singing, the breezing leaves, and the light trickling water take over his sense. It was a bit later when he hears her start humming if it were practically anyone else, he would’ve snapped at her to stop it, but her humming was calming.

He honestly should’ve seen it before he responded. It was a month after the revelation of her being the Parisian hero. They were walking around the Seine near evening after the defeat of another akuma and another day of drama with the harlot and sheep. Marinette had leave early due to the akuma and he was left to deal with the idiots by himself 

“What’s the matter?” he questions. 

“Oh, sorry, I have a lot on my mind,” Marinette says quietly. He steps in front of her and lifts her chin.

“What’s on your mind?” She looks up at him, his breath hitches in his throat, her eyes are glistening in the sunset.

“I… I don’t want things to change, but,” she pauses, taking a deep breath. “I really like you, you’re kind to me, even though you don’t try to show it and-”

“Enough,” Damian cuts her off, she stands in front of him, vulnerable. She’s trying to distract her self by rolling a rock underneath her foot. “If you don't want things to change, then don't change them.” He responds sternly. 

“Umm, ok, I’m sorry, I’m just going to go home then. Umm! Good night!” She says, swinging her head up quickly, just enough to see her eyes glistening with tears before she turns her back and she rushing home. 

“Why’d I say that?” Damian asks himself he watches her back and she rushes down the sidewalk. He has a strange urge to follow her, to pull her into a hug, and to, strangely enough, apologize for making her cry. “What’s the matter with me?” He sighs and agrees to talk to her tomorrow morning before class, as normal.

But that wasn’t the case, she slid into her seat just after the bell rung. Not only was that different, she was wearing make up, not enough for a majority of people to notice, but he knows her well, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes again. He was going to try and talk to her during lunch, but conveniently Agreste calls for her attention as the bell rings before he could get a word out, they’re already out the door.

He feels weird, he knows he shouldn’t he also doesn’t understand why or what that feeling is. His feelings have been pretty abnormal since he got to know Marinette. When he met her, he hated her, but honestly, he hates everyone he meets so he didn’t expect to end up not hating her in the end. She was different than anyone he had ever met, she was kind, without knowing who he was, her smile was contagious. She beautiful but was humble and wasn’t a harlot like other women who had attempted to his attention.

“Grayson, I have a problem,” Damian says, sitting down in the library to eat his lunch in peace.

“What’s up, Birdie, you never call me,” Dick asks.

“This girl said that she likes me.”

“It’s not the first time, you’ve never had a problem rejecting girls before what’s up?”

“She’s my acquaintance.”

“So you like her? What's the problem?”

“Like her?”

“Do you have romantic feelings for her?”

“Explain.”

“Do you like it when she’s around? Is she apart of your life and it feels like a piece is missing if she’s not there?” 

“But that could be platonic as well.”

“It could be, but do you ever have urges to hold her hand, if she is crying to wipe away the tears, or to hold her in a hug?” (I had no idea how to write this btw, almost asked for help but imma too awkward)

“She cried last night and all I wanted to do was hug her and apologize,” Damian sighs.

“You were going to apologize? She must be special.”

“She’s fantastic, a literal angel,” Damian sighs, slouching in his chair to look at the ceiling. “She takes care of and loves animals. She so good with kids, even with brats.”

“Talk to her, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Dick says, there a banging being him. “Sorry, I gotta go, Jason just walked in.” he says before hanging up.

“Talk to her?” Damian mutters to himself. “Do I have feelings for her?” 

He heads back to class early, hoping to talk to her before class. There was one problem, she didn’t show up for afternoon classes along with Agreste. 

He decides that he’ll take the work and notes to Marinette. He enters through the bakery, they had stopped there a couple of times before to pick up stuff sometimes a sketchbook and sometimes a snack. Sabine and Tom recognized him and let him in. He knocks on the trap door and hears a come in, he pushes it open and sees Agreste and Marinette in their pajamas, playing a video game.

“Agreste, Marinette,” Damian says, stepping into the room.

“Damian?” Marinette asks, turning surprisingly pale pretty quickly. 

“I brought your stuff and I wanted to talk to you,” Damian says, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the ground.

“Ummm… sure, Adrien can you give us a minute?” Marinette says, standing up from her spinning chair.

“You hurt her again, I’ll cataclysm you,” Adrien says, opening the trap door before disappearing underneath.

“Umm first, here’s your stuff and notes,” Damian says, handing her them. “Another thing, I’m going to guess you noticed, but I’m not good with emotions in general.” 

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“It took me a bit, but I talked to my brother today,” Damian pauses, taking a deep breath.

“Where’s this going? I don’t want to get hurt again,” Marinette says, taking a seat of her chaise.

“I didn’t realize it before I talked to Grayson, he’s my brother, but I like you. I missed you in class and I don’t ever want to see you cry again. I want to be able to you without it being weird,” Damian says, rubbing the back of his neck, looking anywhere but her.

“You like me?” Marinette asks, standing up.

“I hate the fact that I made you cry, I never want to see sadness in your beautiful blue eyes ever again. You’re too good for me, you are an angel,” Damian says, taking a deep breath.

“I’m just me though,” Marinette says, looking at the ground. Damian steps forward, tipping her chin to look up at him.

“And you’re perfect,” Damian says, Marinette reaches on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.

“And you owe me for playing my heart, I honestly thought you didn’t like me and I had a mini-crisis,” Marinette giggled.

“Would you like to go adopt a hamster?”

“That’s perfect if we can her name her Fluffy,” Marinette smiles.

“We’ll talk about the name,” Damian chuckles.

“I’m open to a discussion,” Marinette shrugs.

Bonus:

“I just had the weirdest conversation,” Dick says, hanging up his phone to look at Jason.

“What’d ya mean?” Jason asks, plopping down in a chair across from Dick before slouching to put his feet on the desk, taking a bite from his apple with a solid crunch.

“I think Damian in love,” Dick says, causing Jason to choke on his apple.

“What the fack did I miss?”

Bonus Bonus:

“Remember how Damian was in an emotional dilemma,” Dick asks, entering the dining room.

“Damian has emotions?” Tim asks, throwing his coffee back like a shot, or maybe it was a straight-up espresso shot, Dick wasn’t really paying attention. 

“Yeah, not the point, not only does he have a girlfriend they have a hamster named Nightingale. Probably so Bruce can’t try and turn her into a bird,” Dick says, muttering the last bit.

“Hey I wouldn’t adopt Damian’s girlfriend, give me some credit,” Bruce says, taking the phone to look at the picture.

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

@mlbchaosqueen is this angst?

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @bee-wrecker @damianette-is-life @mjisntme @i-will-be-your-ace @k-poplunardreams @chocolateherringtacofan @toodaloo-kangaroo @i-is-mysterious @zambie-trashart @imnotfluffy @nanakeid @animegirlweeb

Tag (from daminette group chat) list:

@long-lost-peace​ @iloveitwhen​ @kittykat24571​

[stay-tinystars]

Hurting, and Healing

Kevin Moon (non idol) x reader (fem. Implied, reader wears dress)

Old friends reacquainted. Not a love story.

Warnings:discussions of past abusive relationship (non graphic), discussions of therapy, guilt, and surviors guilt. [Please let me know if I missed any]

Angst!

Word count: 1536

A/N: this was originally a song fic, that changed drastically. This is a very angsty story, with little fluff. No romance, just old friends reacquainted. I'm not sure why I wrote this, but I needed to get this out apparently. Please let me know what you think.

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

The live band playing covers of songs amongst the busy shopping district was always something you enjoyed. It was one of the things you had missed when you were away at college. Walking your old stomping grounds had been a pleasant afternoon.

You had stopped near the back of the crowd, dancing in your short flowy sundress. The skirt twirled and twisted along with you. Your small backpack shifted, as you danced in your well worn Chuck Taylor's. 

That's when he saw you, enjoying the music just like you used to. He stopped in his tracks, doing a double take. He had almost convinced himself it wasn't you, until you laughed and cheered as the song ended. He started towards you as another song started, he watched as you jumped with excitement. You hadn't changed much since he last saw you.

You spun around with a giggle as the chorus to Jesse's Girl started. That's when you saw Kevin off to the side watching. A smirk came across your lips as you pulled him in to dance with you. His hands in yours as you bounced to the music.

"I wasn't sure if it was really you-" he started, you shushed him.

"Not now, Just shut up and dance" you said as you started to spin the both of you. He smiled, shaking his head as he started enjoying the music with you. You both got lost in the others company, until the song ended. You separated and started to cheer, pumping your fist in the air. "Wooo"

The next song started, This time the slow tune made you sway. Kevin pulled you back in, placing his hands on your waist. You followed his lead placing your hands on his shoulders.

"When did you come back?" He asked, his eyes soft as they stared into yours.

"Only yesterday." You half smiled glancing down, then back up into his eyes.

"Are you staying?" His head tilted to the side.

"I'm not sure yet. Now that I've finished with school I'm waiting for the jobs I've applied for to respond. I guess that's when we will see where I go." You shrugged.

"I've missed you." He looked out at the crowd, most who had taken the cue to dance themselves. "I'm sorry I wasn't the person you needed before you left."

You shook your head, "You did exactly what you needed to. You weren't at fault"

"But I didn't help you. I was too much of a coward to fight for you." You could see the anger behind his eyes, for no one but himself. 

"Kevin, it wasn't your fight." You sighed. "I had to learn how to take care of myself. What happened wasn't right, but now I know how to protect me."

"But he abused you!" Kevin broke away. "I should've seen it. I should've done something."

You took in a deep breath, as you followed Kevin, grabbing his hand once again. He just held on, pulling you towards an empty bench, away from everything, and everyone else.

"You are the one who saved me. I know you're the one who called, and turned him in." 

"But why didn't I see it sooner" He turned towards you.

"Because I wanted to hide it. I didn't know how to handle it, the things he did-" a lump in your throat caught your words. The memories from that time frame came rushing back, the heartache, the pain. You sat on the bench, and tried to calm your breathing.

"You always had my back, you stood up for me in highschool. Then when you needed me I couldn't protect you." He plopped down on the bench beside you.

"Kevin, don't beat yourself up over the past. It was years ago, and you are the reason I'm still around." You took a deep breath. "That night I called you, and told you." You paused putting a hand on his knee, causing him to make eye contact with you. "Kevin you came, you got me. The reason I got away from him that night was because I couldn't take it anymore, and I remembered that move you showed me to get away from an attacker. I did it and ran. You saved me, you've done so much for me." You gave his knee a squeeze.

"You remember that? I taught you that before prom because I didn't trust your date."

"It's what saved me from His drunk ass that night." You closed your eyes as the scene played in your mind.

"I just still don't understand why I didn't see it." His eyes made contact with yours. You could see the hurt now "Why didn't you tell me?"

"The first time I was sure it was an accident, that I had done something. After that I became ashamed, he convinced me I deserved it, and that if I said anything no one would believe me." Hot tears ran down your cheeks, as you looked at your hands, that now rested in your lap.

"I would've." His voice soft as he placed a hand atop of yours.

" I know that now." You shook your head, "but when it happened it was overwhelming. When he came in that night, drunk and shoved me into the wall, it was like something snapped, and I knew if I didn't do something I wasn't going to make it. That's when I did that defence move, it brought him down to the ground and I ran."

You both sat in silence, his hand gradually moved yours, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"How have you handled it. All of it." His words barely audible above the sounds around you.

"Moving away, getting a fresh start, but mostly therapy. Therapy helped me a lot. I found a group of others who had been through. I went to that group every week until I graduated. The individual sessions helped to. I'm better now. I also took some real self defense classes." You gave a weak smile. "Kevin, I'm ok now. I'm sorry you've felt like you've let me down all this time."

He nodded, "I missed you. Your mom updated me on your well-being when I saw her around." He said off handedly.

You hung your head. When you left for college you deleted every social media, and got a new number. You needed to leave your old life behind, because it all hurt so much. You never realized how much that also hurt Kevin until now.

"I missed you too." Your voice quiet, as you glanced towards him. Your heart felt heavy. You had healed from most of your trauma, yet Kevin who had been one of your closest friends hadn't been able to have closure. "I'm so sorry. When I left I was only thinking of myself."

"You needed to take care of you." he gave your hand a squeeze.

"That's not a good enough excuse, how could I do that to you. Over two years and all you get is updates when you see my mom around town. We used to spend hours at each other's places in high-school. Then when Jin came into the picture I practically ditched everyone. I left you not only once, but twice. What the hell is wrong with me?" You yelled at yourself, dropping his hand and bringing your hands to your face.

"Nothing is wrong with you. You're human, we make mistakes." Kevin put an arm around you, in an effort to console you.

"But I left you without saying anything." You muttered into your hands.

"You needed a fresh start, it's okay." His hand rubbing small circles on your back. 

"It's not okay. It will never be okay. I left you. I left you and you thought you could've done something better. I left you, and you beat yourself up for over two years because of my ignorance." You lost your words in self anger. He searched for words he couldn't find. He had been hurt, but so had you. The actions you both had failed to do haunted the two of you. Silence fell between the two of you, it wasn't comfortable, nor was it awkward, it was just silence.

The sounds of shoppers and the soft canned music of the shops seemed to fill the silence. After a few minutes you leaned against Kevin slightly, just as you used to in high-school. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he gave a squeeze. Neither of you spoke for over a half hour, as you both took in the words that had been spoken, as well as the unspoken ones that seemed to float in the air. The sun started to go down, the sky darkening slightly, as you rested your head against his shoulder. His cheek on your hair.

His stomach growled making you both laugh.

"When did you last eat?" You giggled, as you sat up.

"I was actually going to go get dinner when I saw you." He smiled.

"Do you still like that old burger joint we used to go to?" You raised a brow, and he nodded.

"That's actually where I was headed." He smirked, and stood up, offering his hand to you.

[ktheist]

1 | friend in me.

“don’t confuse your party friends with your real friends.” (x) 

muses. party friend!jungkook x reader ft. bestfriend!taehyung ft. ex-boyfriend!namjoon

genre. university au. fwb. f2l.

words. 6.1k

warnings. mentions of break up, mild exhibition, alcohol use, future mentions of joint, future smut, mature content

alternative title. to my dear friend.

final part. exclusives only (x)

note. this fic hasn’t been showing up in searches no matter how many times i repost and it’s got a special place in my heart so i really want it to reach the audience, that’s why i made a few changes in hopes to beat the odds lol. enjoy!

x

striking up an unlikely pact to look out for each other’s backs at parties, is the last thing you expect to do with jeon jungkook. sure, you may or may not find a reason to laugh at his lousy antics and corny pick up lines - he’s also a great kisser but that’s besides the point.

the point is, you’d like to keep him as that - the friend that you meet at parties and parties only. so when you see him on your campus grounds, naturally your first instinct is to stop, turn the opposite way you’re heading and where he’s coming from - and start fast-walking to the other end of the campus like the devil is after you.

except that devil comes in the form of denim jacket, white undershirt and wavy dark hair that easily falls over doe eyes that seem to sparkle when you freeze at the sound of your name and turn around to face him with an awkward smile.

he breaks into a mini jog, leaving his friends that you’ve never seen before, behind. your own friends who you’ve been walking with and ditched at the sight of him, gawping at you and the new face from the spot where you decided to leave them at.

why couldn’t they have gone on their merry way - regardless if you’d paused and trekked to the opposite direction you were heading to?

jungkook skids to a stop in front of you, pretty pink lips quirking after he tilted his head to shift his hair out of his eyes instead of pushing it back with his hands.

“hey,” he greets, glancing down at his scuffing vans before meeting your gaze again, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip before retreating back into his mouth, leaving a sheen of moistness on his lips, “i didn’t know you went here.”

willing yourself to smile, you push your hair to the back of your ear before wrapping your arms around your chest, “yeah,” you drag out with an awkward chuckle, not as oblivious as he is of the stolen glances coming from the people passing through the walkway.

“what are you doing here though?” you notice his own friends that he ditched waiting for him several feet away - a group of attractive men and women who clearly belong to the equally high place group from your own faculty.

and yet here he is, talking to you - the ghost with rounded glasses sitting atop her nose and faded chapsticks on her lips. out of all the days you could have looked more zombie-esque, jungkook had to show up at your faculty today.

he’s nice enough not to point it out though as his lips turn into an ‘o’ shape. if you focus, you’d probably see the light bulb going off in his head as the answer to your question hits him. though at this point, you’ve already been hit by your own realization of the reason for there being more people walking around with mechanical appendages and remote control of every kinds. it must be-

“we’re here for the robocup tournament,” he grins, excitement apparent in the way his eyes seem to widen as you can almost hear the screws in his brains working before the question tumbles out of his mouth-

“what about you? are you joining?”

you want to laugh.

and that’s the thing about jungkook - he’s so good at reading you that he knows something’s up. brows knitting together, “what’s... up?”

the shaking of your head is purely reactionary - you’ve made a few friends who came around to compete at times your faculty was the one to hosted it, like now. it’s not as serious as it seemed to be but it’s not entirely something you joke around either since it involved someone’s blood, sweat and tears to make the cut but-

“guess you haven’t heard about the long standing tradition of the circuit breaker’s string pulling. the competition’s rigged.” despite your too willing trip down memory land, you still let your eyes dart around in case anyone’s listening. after you’re sure no one was, only then do you finally go on, “every year, they pick a judge’s kid as part of the team - even if they weren’t enrolled in seollyu and were in some other non-robotics related university, they’ll get close to them and keep them around until the competition. one year, one of them even went as far as dating a judge’s daughter when they couldn’t recruit her into their team.”

swallowing down the bile, you pretend not to notice the complete downturn of his lips as you roll your shoulders in a shrug out of the need of having something to do that doesn’t require focusing on the conflicted, purse lipped frown on jungkook’s face.

“oh wow, we never heard anything like that in beongju.” he murmurs, eyes drawn to the grass a feet away as he contemplates.

“it’s okay, what matters is you guys have fun.” you wave a dismissive hand, smile more natural but still sporting its awkward tucks.

“yeah,” jungkook nods before he meets your gaze, smiling in a half-hearted attempt to ease his own mind, “who knows? maybe this year, beongju will come out victorious.”

you nod, chest blooming with hope - a wishful thinking perhaps, “maybe.”

it’s when his eyes twinkle with a different kind of excitement that you know the matter of the competition is past him, and that’s your cue to go.

“hey, are you-“

“i have a class to-

you both stop at the same time, staring at the other for the longest moment before jungkook offers for you to continue, “you first.”

“um,” you would have deflect it back to him out of politeness. that is, if you didn’t know that he was going to ask you if you were free. possibly to grab lunch or a smoothie somewhere. but that’s the thing, outside of parties, you’re a completely different person altogether. right now, you’re the all-work, no-play study-hard. none of your equally study hard friends are aware of how you are at parties - none of the people you know, know how you are at parties because you made sure to attend only those you’re sure you wouldn’t run into acquaintances. of course it’s difficult and there are a few familiar faces you can identify as people from your faculty at every party but barely which is a safe amount. so it doesn’t make sense to break the unspoken, mutual understanding of the core you and jungkook’s friendship is built on. he might have forgotten how important it was for you that you were strictly ‘fun’ friends, so it’s your job to remind him, “i have class right now.”

you take a step back in preparation to bolt towards said nonexistent on-going class, “but hey, good luck on robocup. oh yeah, what were you gonna tell me?”

jungkook’s “oh - uh,” shouldn’t have sent waves of relief to you the way it does, but when he mumbles a “nothing - it was nothing.” you couldn’t help but suppress a grateful sigh.

on any other occasion, with a person completely separate from jeon jungkook, you would have pressed on - encouraged them to say what they initially wanted to say. but instead, you shoot him a smile, “oh -okay. guess i’ll see you around?”

“uh,” it’s clear as day that he doesn’t want to just leave it up to chance to bump into you in this big building with at least a thousand occupants coming and going everyday throughout the competition but the way smacks his lips shut tells you he there’s something holding him back, so he settles with a, “yeah... see you around.”

x

“you know,” you pause, tendrils of reluctance forbidding you from relaying the tale of how you and jungkook met in hopes it was indicative enough but judging from the way jisoo has her eyebrows raised, lisa with her knowing smile, taehyung and jimin expectantly waiting but with the first actually shooting you an meaningful stare - it seems like you have no choice but to say it-

“we spoke a few times at different parties and realize we have the same party mutual and get invited to the same parties so... we decided to hang together... at parties.”

“hang,” lisa echoes, underlying tone couldn’t have been more obvious as she grins from ear to ear.

“please, no way in hell do you just hang with jeon fucking jungkook when there’s booze and a dozen of empty rooms involved.” jisoo comes barreling through like a bulldozer, hands in the air as she squeals at whatever scenario her mind is cooking up in her head.

laughter trickles out of your mouth as you hide your face in your palms in an attempt to avoid jisoo and lisa’s eyes and the things that they’re hinting at with a mere gaze.

“why?” taehyung’s baritone finally hits the air as he leans back against the recliner. once the silence settles in a second later and all eyes turn his way, he adds, “not that it’s any of our business but,” he shrugs, “he’s not really your crowd - not any of our crowd.”

that’s the million dollar question. taehyung hates beers and crowded places - which is a surprise given his social butterfly-ness among all five of you. jimin, jisoo and lisa do go parties - those that your closest friends would be at. otherwise, they aren’t adventurous as you.

maybe jimin has a another side that you don’t know - it’s a known fact that he has other friends. dance friends, drinking friends, and whatever type of people with similar interests who flock a certain direction.

just like how you had jungkook and the group of friends you hung out with at parties.

“i mean, my dance friends aren’t exactly your kind of crowd either,” jimin interjects from the floor, head lulled to the back to look at taehyung, “remember how you wanted to avoid hoseok at all costs after i brought you to a practice once?”

“yeah,” you instantly second, hand gesturing to the man in a ‘exactly what he said’ manner before turning to the taller guy, “everyone makes friends where their usual friends aren’t.”

“i guess,” he cedes after what felt like the longest pause in your history of friendship.

it is that moment, just as your muscles begin to relax, that your phone dings with a notification. unbeknownst to you that you still command the attention in the entire room, you cluelessly let check out the new text message.

koo: we lost ):

“it’s him.” lisa announces, the bed shaking as she scoots away when you try to swat her thigh.

“and she has him saved as koo,” she - without any trace of intentionally constructed pun, coos, hands clasped together next to her tilted head as she bumps it with jisoo who’s mimicking her gestures.

“he just texted to say he lost,” you clarify, shaking your head at the two girls’ antics.

not that it changes anything as jisoo leans her whole body against lisa, an arm on her forehead in a troubled manner, “now i wish i had a boyfriend.”

lisa hums in agreement, her long limbs extending to wrap around the older girl’s torso as she rests her chin on top of jisoo’s dark brown tresses.“me too, sweetie. me too.”

typing out a ‘i’m so sorry. it’s okay they don’t deserve your talent anyway ):’ with a mixture of emojis, you hit send just before turning to what jimin is saying.

“...go to one. i heard alpha sig is having one tomorrow,” then he turns to you, as though you bear an abundance of knowledge about which place is having a party and on what day, “right ____?”

it takes you a moment to piece together what he said. you didn’t hear the beginning but you’re sure it’s something along the lines of jimin setting the two lonely singles to break their 2 month no-party streak and maybe get that boyfriend they wanted.

“jimin, i’m not sure,” you say shortly before turning to the two girls,“not that that many good, upstanding citizen of men go to the parties i went to though but maybe there’s a miracle waiting for you girls,” you smile in genuine hopefulness while referring to an entirely hopeless place. but it turns into an emphatic one as the two girls fake cry about the minimal chance they have to get a - in what you could make out of  jisoo’s fake bawling - hot, sexy party boyfriend. whatever that meant.

you don’t have the time to confirm it when your phone dings again.

koo: thanks i can always count on you to be real w me 🥺🥰

another grey bubble pops pushes the text you’re reading upwards.

koo: you coming to alpha sig’s party?

koo: we have to be here for the closing ceremony tmr anyway

koo: help me make good memories before i leave seollyu 🥺

you suppress the urge to roll your eyes at that. he’s only been here for one day and he got invited to one of the most hard-to-get-in parties on the campus.

naturally, you and jimin were invited from your underlying reputations. and naturally, whoever you bring is invited too.

except you’re not a fan of going to parties that you know you’d meet the exact people you didn’t want to meet.

lisa peeks at your phone the second time - and you didn’t even notice until she screams, “___’s going to alpha sig’s!”

“oh my god, will he be there?” jisoo leans her entire body over lisa in a reckless abandon to get a peek of what the younger one saw only to have you hold your phone away.

“um? privacy? anyone?” you offer while jisoo pouts.

“duh, she’s going because of him.” lisa says im a matter-of-factly, “otherwise, she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of going to any party infested with people we already had to see sober.”

“am not.” you counter, the matter of replying already long forgotten as you cross your arms over your chest, phone tucked in between the side of your boob and hand, “if i’m going, it’d be because i want to!”

“so you’re going?” jisoo blinks, eyes twinkling with hope. so are lisa’s.

you have no choice but to turn your cheek to a laughing park jimin on the floor. his pupils disappearing behind his lids. clearly, he’s not going to back you up. so you turn to the only other person who you thought would.

“if tae’s going then i’ll go,” you declare, already feeling the triumph of what the man would choose from his precedent choices. “not that you guys need me to get in since jimin’s already-“

“sure.” the taller man announces.

you’re forced to make a double take while your jaw drops in your lap along with jisoo and lisa’s while jimin blinks in surprise from your periphery.

completely conscious of the gazes boring into his skull, taehyung attempts to casually shrug it off as a- “since you guys are going, you know.”

jisoo yelps in celebration before going “great, who’s up for some chicken?” shooting up and sending the mattress shaking as she takes big steps over your legs and hops off the bed. hands planted on her hips, she glances around the room with the residue of a pleased smile from the decision of all five of you finally going to a party together.

“me!” lisa follows suit with the exception that she’s crawling on her hands and knees to get off the bed.

“me but i don’t want to get up.” jimin whines, unmoving from his spot which is lying on the fluffed pink carpet as taehyung’s birthday present to his otherwise creme themed room.

“come on, park. get your ass off the floor and to the parking lot - get it, park jimin goes to the parking lot?” jisoo begins tugging on his wrist, the sight rather comical considering how she’s trying to make a man twice her size sit up, let alone move to get to the car seeing as he’s the only one with one.

lisa shares a doubtful look with you and taehyung at the poorly made pun, questioning why jimin seems to be the only one chuckling but then again, he’s always been the easiest to entertain.

after huffing and puffing, jisoo finally plucks the boy off the floor. but getting him to walk the distance from his apartment to the car is another feat.

it’s when their voices echo in the hallway, and you and a certain taller man is left in the room, do you notice the difference in this silence compared to the rest as he pushes himself up.

“are you going for real?” you finally ask, throwing your feet over the bed.

taehyung’s lips pucker as he contemplates the pros and cons, “what’ll i do if i don’t go? binge watch maze runner and be reminded of the fact that all third movies suck?”

maybe he doesn’t hate parties as much as you initially thought. after all, it’s been a year since he vomited all over kim sowon while making out on the couch at alpha sig’s.

you grin, elbowing the man as you both make your way out of the room, “hey, maybe you could find yourself a girlfriend while you’re at it.”

taehyung’s laugh doesn’t reach his eyes but you chalk it up with the jitters of the thought of having alcohol course through his veins and surrounded by bodies on the dance floor, “huh, yeah.”

x

the day fly by between getting to classes and getting lunch - it was a feat to convince everyone to go to dumpling place just a little bit off campus but you’d managed and subsequently successfully avoided running into jungkook for the day.

“bih, what the fuck?” lisa gawks, jaw descended to the ground as she stares at your mini black crop top that stops a few inches above your high-waist ripped jeans.

if you didn’t show up to classes in sweats and oversized sweaters, round glasses and hair always up in your laziness to make them look presentable - every day, maybe your ability to throw on some eye make up and highlights over your foundation wouldn’t have been so much as a surprise.

unlike you, your friends have always been on top of their game when it comes to appearing like functioning members of society. the clothes they have now have also been worn to class before - that’s how you know their confidence is sky high while yours require a little bit of help depending on what you wear.

why they decided to adopt a munchkin like you into their otherwise perfect clique, you’ll never know - but maybe it had something to do with you looking like a lost puppy in your first year with your round glasses and the thick books you carry around. it was a matter of time you ran into someone and drop them - that someone being jisoo.

after that, the rest was history - your prejudices towards groups of attractive people have never been so diminished.

your hair bounces gently as you hop into the passenger seat, giggling shyly at the attention you’ve garnered with your otherwise usual getup for a fun time.

“if i knew you won’t have any problems surviving off skinny jeans and cute tops, i would have burned those baggy clothes a long time ago.” jisoo confesses, red lips curled into an impressed ‘o’ as she takes in your appearance.

you gasp, truly offended to know your day-to-day choice of outfit has never been any of your friend’s preference yet only now do they make it known - talk about fake friends! “don’t you insult my comfy clothes like that!”

a light bump on her shoulder forces her to tear her gaze away and turn her cheek to the grinning girl next to her, “maybe she has a reason to dress cute.”

and just like that, the two breaks out into coos. sending you signals with their entire face muscles as jimin chuckles from the driver’s seat.

“but you know, this is how ___ usually dress up for parties even like before she met jungkook.”

you send praises to the gods for sending you this blessing of a friend as you fix the two girls a smirk, posing like a model as much as the cramped space allows you, “nah, i got it from my momma.”

an onslaught of protest - denials - mixed with cheers erupt as you begin to poorly mimic that of models with your limbs pointing in every direction and body bending in weird angles. it doesn’t take long before laughter tumbles out of everyone’s mouth, the front seaters included - taehyung had achingly turned in his seat to attend your fashion show while jimin stole glances in the rearview mirror.

x

yoo jeongyeon is the first to wave you over. if there’s a grey area where party friends and real friends merge together, it’ll be her. you’ve gone to parties together and had fun - though the last time you did, you ended up waking up on the same bed with some guy on the floor.

jin? jun? jeong? j-something grinned when he woke up to the sight of you two, “so... can i get you girls’ number?”

jeongyeon didn’t bother to hold back her grimace and you’d strutted into the bathroom as if you didn’t hear him.

“kim taehyung, lisa manoban and kim jisoo.” she studies each one with an impressed, “how did jimin and ____ manage to haul your asses out and over here?’

“the single life they’ve been walking has finally slapped them in the face and they finally want-“ you get cut off by lisa’s fake chuckle that sounds every bit forced.

“-wasted.”

“-boyfriends!”

they end up saying at the same time. while jisoo is finds no fault in her confession, lisa’s face is heating up - coming second next to you when it comes to shying back into her shell when topics like these come to light.

“taehyung too.” jisoo hooks her hand around the aforementioned man’s arm, stopping him from slowly disappearing into the crowd like a certain park jimin has, her other one around younger girl.

“jeongyeon, you have introduce us to cute guys or we’ll end up dying from all this single-ness!”

at that, the woman burst into laughter, hand on her stomach as she tries and fails to suppress it.

“i don’t know,” she wipes a tear from the corner of her eyes, “isn’t that more of ____’s specialty?”

“uh,” it takes a heartbeat for you to register what jeongyeon is saying before the same heart in your chest crashes against the ground at her next words.

“everyone knows,” a meaningful smile quirks on her lips, “about you and-“

“i- uh, i think i heard jackson calling me - something about a group project.” you quickly say, cursing yourself for the less than plausible excuse to get away.

and the three girls think so too as they call you out for it but you don’t stop until they’re out of earshot and out of the spotlight, ending up at a table full of booze.

you pop a can open, letting the bitter taste wash over your suddenly dry throat. the alcohol hasn’t got to you yet but you know it will and maybe that’s the only thing you have going on as you walk around, waving to people you know and lingering to talk with some, noticing that most of them are halfway to getting drunk.

some time later, you spot jisoo, lisa and jeongyeon dancing with some of your close friends. beer in their hands. you wonder how they’re going to find a boyfriend or even a hook up if they just keep to their circle - that was the clear as day distinction between you and them.

where they feel the most comfortable surrounded with familiar faces - regardless of whether they like them - you find comfort on a room full of strangers and the knowledge that you wouldn’t see them anymore after that.

but that wasn’t the case for jungkook. after one too many parties and several ‘hey, i was hoping i’d see you’s, a sense of camaraderie starts forming. of course, rules don’t apply where it would in a normal, socially sober setting.

you were friends as much as you were fucking like rabbits. finding comfort in mornings where you wake up without a sense of recollection, a throbbing headache and a lump of body underneath the sheets only to sigh in relief upon finding out who it was as though to say ‘oh thank god it’s you and not some rando i won’t know how to politely kick out while emphasizing that i have class in like 5.’

you embark on a visual searching journey to look for the same boy who wouldn’t mind if you had to shut the door in his half-awake face on mornings you had to get ready for class and still smiled at you later that night when you meet at a different party - until your gaze lands on a pair of brown eyes.

instead of wide and doe-like, the one that captured yours are hooded and heavy, boring into the windows of your soul. all of a sudden, you’re brought back to the same time last year. back when you were just a freshie with a stomach full of butterflies as you shyly look away from those piercing eyes.

but now, all you feel is your stomach rearranging and bile almost rising to your throat as you take a swig of the beer before melding into the crowd.

alpha sig is known for their closeness with circuit breaker, having been been sponsored by your own faculty for those with outstanding achievements to stay on-campus.

but none of the circuit breakers ever come to these parties - or at least, he never did.

almost as though the stars and planets aligned to manifest your only thought, a familiar voice wraps around the syllables of your name. and you would have continued on your merry way and pretend like you didn’t hear anything, if only you’re not in a hallway where there’s least people and subdued music compared to the dance floor you just escaped from.

“i heard you’ve been around,” kim namjoon stands at the end of the hallway, decked in plain gray t-shirt underneath a leather jacket and black pants. he takes easy, casual steps towards you with a dimpled smile that couldn’t have been more vain, “but i couldn’t believe my ears,” his shoulder line jolts as he shrugs, “well, until now, at least.”

“who would’ve thought? the cute ___ who blushed from a simple peck would have this side to her.” he stands a good half a head over you, his cologne’s changed from the last time you’d come in such a close proximity like you are now.

“yeah,” you drag out in a half-singing voice, face schooled into an unfazed expression, “i mean, it’s better than going around tricking girls into sleeping with you, right?”

at that, his smile instantly drops into a hard set frown as he lowers his voice, “i didn’t ‘trick’ you into having sex with me,” his lips quirk up at possibly a recollection of that night, “as i recall, you begged me to take your virginity.”

“that was before i knew your shitty motives to get brownie points from my dad just so you could win a stupid competition,” your voice is equally low and threatening, body heating up from the remembrance of those unreplied texts and the look in his eyes when you approached him that monday after the tournament - like he didn’t even know you.

namjoon laughs - the sound dripping with mockery as he throws his head back slightly, “come on, that was like a year ago. get over it.”

that’s it.

that’s when your mind is the clearest. no amount of beer could tell you otherwise - that this man right here doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt on the occasions that your friends begin spilling hot tea about the leader of circuit breaker and the things the members have done to win. they didn’t know about you and namjoon - nobody really does. you should have known those late night meetings and nothing but a polite smile when you pass in the hallways - were all red flags.

ones that you willfully ignore in the guise of ‘i’m not ready to tell everyone yet’s and ‘it doesn’t matter, if nobody knows, right? as long as i know you’re my girl’s

“you’re a dick.”

you push past him, cursing internally when he doesn’t budge and you’re the one who ends up with an almost dislocated shoulder.

it is only when you’re pushing a through the sea of bodies and swatting hands that try to grope your ass, does a certain doe-eyed, bunny smile enter your vision.

almost instantly, the urge to pinch the hand on your lower back disappears after knowing who its owner is. you’re pressed up against each other - the dance floor doesn’t allow much room for personal space and you’ve shared your personal spaces with each other far too many times to need that kind of distance from each other.

“i was looking for you,” the alcohol in his breath doesn’t feel all that repugnant as he nears his mouth to the shell of your ear, igniting a fire that kim namjoon had set up with the previous exchange.

he stands straighter, lips puckered sulkily as he swayed your bodies together, “we lost and everyone in my team had girlfriends or boyfriends to comfort them-”

your hands that cup his face and digs into his messy tresses make him clamp his mouth shut. the gentlest protrusion of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows in anticipation.

he asked and you shall grant it.

girlfriend. fuck buddy. what difference does it make?

“i know, koo. i’m sorry you wasted your time on that dumb competition.” you purr, noticing how his gaze becomes glazed as he steals a glance at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

a heartbeat later, you’re pressing your mouth against the softest pair of lips you’ve ever known. mentally, you make a note to ask what he uses to keep them smooth and kissable.

he snaps out of his stupor a moment later, hands snaking down to grab your ass like he’s done this a million times before and knows just how to get you moaning into his mouth. almost as natural as breathing, he slips his tongue past your lips tasting you.

another moan escapes you when he begins kissing down your chin, trailing sloppy kisses on your neck and suckling on the one spot that gets your heart palpitating on your chest. hands tucking on his pleated outer shirt for the sake of having something to hold.

you bring jungkook’s face to yours, noticing the sheen on his pinker lips before pressing another deep kiss. he doesn’t to think twice to react. one hand on your free hand slipping underneath your crop top. when someone shove into jungkook, almost sending you tumbling backwards and ending up doing the same to another person - jungkook curses. “fucking drunktards.”

a giggle escapes your lips, “pot calling the kettle black? we were probably bumping into people on nights we were shit faced drunk.”

“probably.” he shrugs, fingers lacing around your wrist as he guides you off the dance floor and into the kitchen where he doesn’t waste a second in hoisting you up onto the counter and slips in the space between your legs.

“hello.” you murmur, resting your forehead against his, cheeks hot and body aflame.

“hey, beautiful.” he fixes you a lazy grin, lips drawing closer to your mouth but before he manages to close the hair breadth’s distance, he stops.

“wait.” he murmurs against your lips, eyes glued to them as though he’s picturing another part of him on them.

“what?” you whisper, just as enticed by his own lips as your try to pull him closer with your arms that’s wrapped around his neck.

“are you drunk?” are his next words and you’re well aware the basis of where it spurred on.

once upon several parties ago, you’d included stopping you from putting on a risque show if your drunken self ever abandoned your self-restraint. jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t love attention per se but he doesn’t shy away from it either.

“i’m not,” you assure, drawing closer to his lips by the second like moth drawn to flames. but you have enough sense to tilt your head to steal a glance towards the direction where you’ve been feeling a hole being drilled into your skull. your heart skips a beat when you catch namjoon’s eyes - he’s leaning against the wall with his friends either standing or sitting on the couch, beer in one hand.

“but i need your help to make someone jealous.”

jungkook follows your gaze towards namjoon and his friends a few feet away. it doesn’t take much for him to piece two and two together - especially after your a apparent animosity while telling him about the competition being rigged.

“ah,” he hums - you could just hear the smile in his voice. your knees weaken at the touch as you begin kissing the patch of skin closest to your lips which is his jawline. “i don’t know if i should be sad or happy that you’re finally agreeing to have sex in public with me because of some what’s-his-face guy.”

“not have sex sex,” you correct, delight filling your chest when he shivers - whether it’s from your touch of the image your words are painting in his head, you’re not sure, “but make out with me like you’re a kiss away from fucking me senseless?”

“i thought that’s a given?”

not needing to be told twice, you find yourself being devoured like a little rabbit in the arms of the beast. the background around you blurs together as you inhale jungkook’s scent, feel the warmth seep from his body to yours. your hand snakes down in between your bodies with one goal in mind: the gentle protrusion brushing against your own crotch.

“fuck a show,” jungkook hisses harshly against your mouth, breathing becoming labored as you caress him over the layer of his jeans, “where’s the closest room we can get to?”

you nod in agreement, hopping off the counter and tugging on your top to keep your nipples from being exposed after jungkook’s hand fall away from your breast at your retreat.

“they might have empty ones upstairs.” you tug on jungkook’s hand, making your way to the staircase and trying not to step over drunken bodies making out on the ground or simply passed out.

it’s when you get one foot on the stairs, that a clamoring thud erupts from somewhere on the dance floor - the air that was once blaring now pin drop silent. jungkook’s cheek presses against your back as he wraps his arm around your torso, a peck landing on your shoulder, not telling you to move but not really interested at the reason you paused to peer through the gaps of bodies that seemed to be looking at something just around the corner.

“shut the fuck up, dickhead!” a voice thunders against the walls after another thud that sounded like heavy equipment falling against the ground - and possibly breaking.

“must be those football guys fighting over a girl.” jungkook comments, uninterested.

on any other occasion, you would have agreed and gone on your merry way but it’s the unsettlingly familiar baritone that made you freeze in your spot in the first place. it’s with a rattling realization and the sight of jisoo among the throng of people, calling out “taehyung, leave it!” that gets you to trudge back to the floor, vaguely aware of jungkook trailing from behind with a “what’s wrong?”

eyes bore into your skull as you finally push through the throng of people and burst onto the scene. jisoo has her arms around taehyung’s while jimin appear miniature as he stands between the taller man and an unnervingly calm namjoon. the latter wipes a trace of blood from his busted lower lip as chills run down your spine when the man’s eyes falls on you, lips curving into a vain smile.

“why don’t you ask her yourself?” his voice drums against the walls - loud and clear to those who are watching which is basically everyone here.

“come on, ___, everyone wants to know if you begged me to be your first and how we fucked in the back room of the student lounge.”

[asclepius-erebus]

Nevarro

Title: Personal Eden (Ongoing)

Chapter 3: Nevarro

Rating: Mature (17+)

Word Count: 4.3k

TW: mentions of abuse (lmk if I should include any more!)

The next day, as anticipated, you land on Nevarro, where upon disembarking a flurry of droids scurry up to the ship.

“Hey!” Mando yells, paralyzing all the droids, “No droids!”

You learn that the baby is not in fact Mando’s, but a foundling he’d taken up first as a quarry but then adopted. You’re not sure what’s so special about this child, but for it to have a bounty over it’s head before it can intelligibly speak seemed cruel enough, and you don’t ask any further questions.

You also learned that Mando is a man of few words. He tends to keep his responses curt and to-the-point; and never straying away from the subject of conversation. From your observation, he has not gone onto tangents or disclosed any new information, willingly, that did not immediately pertain to the topic. It made it even more difficult for you to learn anything new about him, his character, humors, and appearance. He is a complete mystery, and yet you find him fascinating all the while he continues to intimidate with both his outward appearance, and lack of openness.

The day on Nevarro is grey despite the sky being totally clear. The landscape isn’t strikingly beautiful like some of the other planets you’ve been on with Malsifer. It’s gritty, dusty, and terribly suffocating. The air feels dense and warm, that kind that made you feel sticky and uncomfortable. The sky is a dull blue, but blue nontheless.

Since joining Mando on his ship, he’d allowed you the time to wash off the caked on makeup from the other night, some of which you’d cried off, like your ruby red lips. It was a nice color, you were fond of how well it complimented your skin and the shape of your lips- but it had overstayed its time on your face and it was time for it to go.

However, upon stepping onto the rough planet, you realize how out of place you appear to be. Not only is the green alien child perched on your hip and babbling to himself, but you’re still dressed in what Mando had rescued you in a few days ago. The wispy fabrics fluttered in the subtle warm breezes, carrying with them the muted but bright colors of an oceanside sunset of lavender, magenta, and gold. You felt exposed among the muted and dark colors that Mando and his child limited themselves to, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Mando’s child begins to fuss, deciding that he wanted to meander around in the dirt as Mando took a few steps towards an unfamiliar man. The man is of a darker complexion, though his beard and hair suggests he is of a wiser age, and extended a friendly hand to shake. They must already know each other.  

The child giggles and laughs, grasping and tossing any rocks he finds on the ground. You crouch to his level, structuring his play by tossing him back the rocks he’d thrown. From this, he giggles excitedly.

~~

“Greef.” Mando greets the aging man, Greef Karga, approaching him at the opening to the city, densely lined with clay houses and open markets. It teems with a unique variety of inhabitants and passersby- like Mando, who does not stand out in the crowd as obviously as the brightly colored dresses his new acquaintance was dressed in. That, was something he’d address soon enough.

“Mando.” Greef smiles, eyes lighting up upon seeing the familiar helmet, “How are you old friend?”

Mando looks over his shoulder at his companions before returning his attention to Greef, “Surprised to be back. What are you doing out here?” He asks with a tired sigh.

Greef raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “I’m just as surprised to see you out here… Tying up a few loose ends. Who’s your new friend?”

Mando hooks his gloved fingers at the top of his chest plate, resting his arms casually over himself and relieving some of the weight of the Beskar on his shoulders, “That’s who I’m here to find some information about. She’s one of Malsifer’s.”

“Malsifer?” Greef’s eyes widen, “What is she? A quarry?”

Mando’s helmet shakes, “No, Malsifer was. Malsifer had an indentured servant situation and I need to know more about her… Anything would be useful, but especially any bank records.” Mando says quietly, sliding a small note with the name of his newest crewmate scribbled onto it.

Greef looks down at the note inquisitively, “Malsifer, huh? Doesn’t surprise me… He always rubbed me the wrong way… Though I’m not surprised that his luck, or lack of it, finally caught up to him.”

“She’s got no where to go. Is there any way you can find out anything about her that’s useful…?”

Greef looks between Mando and the cooing child and woman behind him, and then down at the name on the note, “Get back to me in an hour or two.”

~~

Mando turns to wave yourself and the baby to his side, the man with whom he was conversing with turning away and headed into the city.

“What was that about?” You ask, the baby occupying itself with a metal ball he’s produced from his bundle of clothing.

“Business.” He says briefly.

Business. You think to yourself, the most colorful response I’ve gotten since I boarded.

With the baby balanced on your hip, Mando navigates you both through the streets of a busy marketplace. Vendors line the streets and advertise their products and produce, crafts, and other items for sale, all ranging in complexity and beauty that you admire from a distance. The baby on your hip is thoroughly entertained with all the sights, sounds, and colors, teething on a pastry he managed to swipe off a vendor when they weren’t looking.

Of course you attract some attention. Not only did it not help that the baby you tote clearly is not yours, but your impractical and fluttering dresses had other passerby step and trip on them as you went- sending you a few gross side-eyes and raised eyebrows. You clutch what you can in your hands as you follow Mando’s glistening helmet through the crowd.

He approaches a stand fluttering with colorful fabrics, handcrafted designs embroidered to the hems of cloaks, dresses, and shirts. They’re all so pretty and wonderful to look at.

Mando begins a conversation with a middle aged woman at the stand in her native language, her weathered face and dark eyes glancing at you from time to time as Mando continues to explain something to her. She raises her hand and counts on her fingers as she explains something to him in response, Mando filling her palm with a few coins. Pleased, she nods and produces a neatly folded up wad of fabric. She extends it towards you with a forced but friendly smile.

“Something to cover yourself with for now…” Mando explains, “Later, on the ship, I can find you some clothes.”

Accepting the folded fabric, you briefly study its particular shade of purple. It’s dark and neutral, almost barely detectably purple should someone care enough and stare long enough at you. You unfold it to find an opening, and you slip it over your head, a hood catching on you as the rest of the fabric settles on your shoulders and over your torso. The baby gets caught in it too, but frees himself with a shake of his enormous head. It is a cloak, the fabric feeling pleasurably heavy on your figure and comfortable on your bare shoulders. It feels protective and warm, but breathable and completely functional as an everyday garment. Not only does it feel well, but it conceals you much better amongst everyone else.  

“I buy my cloaks off her.” Mando responds simply, the first time he’s shared a new fact about himself, “She’s also going to find you a pair of shoes.”

He’s right. Perhaps the pair of sandals tied at your ankles aren’t the best fit for a shoe to be blundering around planets with. It was certainly enough for the occasions you accompanied Malsifer to meeting his clients, and the extent of your time out in the elements was limited to barely nothing. Malsifer concerned himself more with whether you appeared to his liking and aesthetics.

The older woman returns, producing a short pair of dark brown leather boots of a matte finish. They are simple and easy to slip on, with no intricate buckles, zippers, or ties. They hug your feet comfortably and accomplishes all the criteria necessary for being a practical piece of footwear.

Mando glances around and hands the woman a few extra coins, nodding in thanks as she accepts them and waves kindly at the child on your hip.

“Thank you.” You tell Mando as the three of you walk away from the stand of fluttering fabrics. He doesn’t react, at least as far as you can observe from the faceless helmet that you looked at when speaking to him.

“We have some time before we meet up with Greef again.” Mando says, ignoring what you’d said, “We can-“

“-Take a look around.” You interrupt, your curiosity about the rest of the market piqued. Surely there were other useful and interesting things the three of you can look at other than the four metal walls of Mando’s ship.

Mando agrees, but you’re not necessarily sure if it was from acquiescence or genuine concurrence.

It is difficult to read him, you’ve noticed it bothering you, without any facial expressions and other visual cues to clue you into his mood. His body language was often also very grey and difficult to deduce. This is unlike what you’ve relied on in the past to understand and predict other people’s behaviors. Malsifer was an individual very prone to giving himself way via his expressions and tone of voice, which made it easier to clue you into how you should respond, if at all. It’s natural to rely on social cues in order to know how to respond to a given situation, but with Mando, it feels quite the contrary.

He strolls with you at a relaxed pace, his hand firmly placed on the hilt of his blaster he keeps attached to his waist.  

Your eyes flicker between his helmet and his hand. You’d seen him use his blaster with deadly precision, it drove you to tears to see the barrel trained at the space between your eyes. You hadn’t heard of stormtroopers being as accurate, and you question what he is, and what he represents. You can already deduce that he’s a bounty hunter, why else would he be looking for quarry? But why the child? Why the armor? And why the ship you’d finally observed to be very Old Republic.

“Mando-“ You begin to ask curiously…“Can I ask you a question?”… cautiously.

“Sure.” He says simply, his helmet turning to observe a long blaster rifle on display at a vendor.

“Where are you from?”

Mando’s helmet continues to follow the long rifle as he walks away, “No where. I was a foundling.”

“A foundling from where?” You ask again. “Who found you?”

“I don’t remember.” He says dryly, his gaze returning forward as he scans the vendors again till something catches his eye… visor.

“So then what’s with the armor?”

He stops midstride, and you sense that you’ve either said something wrong or insulted him in some way.

Your cheeks immediately feel like their burning despite the chill that raced down your spine. You blink back a million-and-one thoughts and possibilities on how he might respond. Was he mad? Dumbfounded? Absolutely furious? It’s too hard to tell. By the way he’d stopped and now turned his head towards you, your hands clench into a fist- not prepared to strike, but to brace.

He chuckles. He chuckles. Warmly, softly, and bemusedly, his modulated blitheness is musical and so incredibly comforting. You’re not sure how you should react. It’s not the reaction you’d braced yourself for. After all, you’d insulted him, didn’t you?

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never seen Mandalorian armor before?” He asks, resuming the slow pace he took beside you.

You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you resume walking a few paces behind him. The child, unbothered, continues to chew on the pastry and inquisitively looks between yourself and Mando.

“I’m surprised Malsifer never let you see one.” He says, “No wonder you seemed pretty scared when I was there.”

You’d kept your gaze down at your feet as you walked, feeling ashamed to ask a dumb question in the first place. Of course you knew what a Mandalorian was, but you’d only ever read about them in flimsi books you’d managed to smuggle in and out of Malsifer’s library. They seem downright fictional, down to their very demeanors of being militant and mute. It didn’t help that the only information accessible to you came in bound flimsi books that in itself was probably older than yourself or Malsifer’s combined existence. You’d never seen their armor, at least not the kind that Mando was sporting in pure Beskar and with a helmet that looked too much like a storm trooper’s. You’d sooner expect he was an ex-trooper, or someone who simply stole or bought their armor.

“It was terrifying.” You admit softly, “You, pointing a blaster in my face. Doesn’t help that you’ve got all that armor.”

You see his boots stop moving and turn towards you. You still keep your gaze down, distracting your hands with the child’s robes as the crumbs of his treat fell from his face.

“Look at me.” He says sternly, and you obey, looking up into his visor, “You need to… unlearn whatever this is.”

You chew your lip, intimidated by his presence so close and so powerful over you. You fight yourself and your nervous glances away from the glare of his visor.  

“I don’t know what Malsifer put you through, but here, with us… none of it.” He continues, “Can’t have you walking behind me like some shadow, not with my kid.” He takes a step back from you and turns away, but stops.

His shoulders drop and his demeanor softens, “You were walking next to me.” He says, awaiting for you meet him at his side, “You were saying…”

Meeting up with him, the child in your arms coos and reaches out to Mando, who scoops him up from your grasp and you hide your arms under the cloak. He is right, it’s different with Mando and his kid. This is an equal playing field where you’re a part of a cohort of other individuals just like you. Of course, Mando is the leader, he provides, flies, and protects. The new dynamic is refreshing, but old habits are hard to beat. Which isn’t a natural nor healthy response. But neither was being caned across your knees and shins if you didn’t do so.

Mando stops at a vendor selling a wide assortment of things. They all seem extremely random, from switchboards to datatapes to bacta kits. Perhaps these are things the vendor was able to scavenge off broken ships and droids, this isn’t the first time you’d seen scrap collectors try to sell off what they can’t trade at a refinery. You’ve heard of such beings called Jawas who are infamous for such scavenging, but you also know that they’re not entirely open to the idea of selling what they find.

Mando strikes up a conversation with the vendor, a tall and slender specimen with small black eyes and three digits on each of their four arms. They’re haggling, is what you can assume, as Mando shakes his head and points to a well-stocked bacta kit on the table. The vendor insists on a certain price, counting it off on his palms before accepting a deal with Mando’s budget. He swipes the bacta off the table, and tosses it.

You catch it and immediately hide it under your cloak. Mando notices, walking away from the vendor saying, “Keep that there, don’t want him noticing he let me take the wrong one.”

His dry friendliness is welcoming, it made you feel like you were walking with a friend rather than a tank. The child giddily had finished his snack and entertained himself with his metal ball, which now you’d deduced was from a switch or lever, likely coming from the cockpit of the ship.  

“So… your armor. Mandalorian?” You ask, keeping pace with him.

He nods, “Mandalorian.”

You think back to what you’d read about in the flimsis, “If I recall correctly, some Mandalorians choose to keep their helmets on? Or do all of you have to wear it all the time?”

Mando nods, “When I swore to the creed, I swore to keep my identity secret. It’s part of our code.”

“So ‘Mando’ isn’t your real name?” You ask.

“No.”

“So what is your name?”

“Mando.”

You furrow your brows, not wanting to press further. You admire the devotion, despite it frustrating you further. You wanted to learn more of him, but now you know that such learning can no longer pertain to his appearance, and you must now learn his character. Though it wasn’t the only thing weighing on your curiosity, you’ve already begun building his profile.

Like you’d learned during your time in hyperspace that he is a man of not-so-many words. He isn’t aptly good at beginning a conversation, and usually such conversations are limited to small talk on the basis of his work and ship… But that had been debunked when he disclosed that he gets his cloaks from the woman at the colorful stand, and joked to you about the bacta-kit hidden away under your cloak. You hope he will reveal more of himself to you with time. You’re patient enough for that.

You respect that his physical appearance as an extension of his anonymity. It’s not the only instance where you’ve experienced the sort of veiling that came with particular religions, cultural identities, and personal choices. It will be up to him to disclose what he wants and when- it would be rude of you to pester. It’s not your place.  

The three of you walk leisurely, stopping occasionally to look at something interesting at a stall before returning into the direction of the ship. In the distance, you observe the man from earlier standing and waiting for you, Greef, you remember Mando mentioning the name.

Mando hands you the child back into your arms, “Get back on the ship.” He instructs, and you nod, the baby beginning to doze off to sleep in your arms.

~~

“What did you find?” Mando asks taking a few steps towards Greef and out of earshot from his new crewmate.

Greef’s usually friendly smile is thin, “I found one result for her name, one that appears on an obituary. According to the systems, she’s technically dead.”

Mando exhales sharply, disappointed, and curiously tipping his head to the side, “So, what? How long has she been ‘dead’?”

“Five years.” Greef says bleakly, “And she has no digital footprints anywhere. No record of her ever even having an account to hold credits, or receipts from anywhere that she’s spent credits.”  

Mando looks back in the direction of his ship, watching you board the Razor Crest with the child in your arms, how tenderly you hold his head and attend to his sleepy babbling. This is unfortunate news, that Mando would need to tell you sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando admits quietly, your silhouette disappearing in the ship.

Greef clears his throat, “I know this is none of my business, but the baby seems to like her, it’s pretty obvious… Until she can figure things out on her own, she can stick around, learn a thing or two, and you’ll have someone who can take care of the kid when you have jobs.”

Mando nods, “This isn’t the first time Malsifer faked someone’s death just to drain their accounts?”

“It’s also not the first time he’s trapped pretty young girls into being his personal assistants.” Greef says, raising an eyebrow in Mando’s direction.

“He abused them.” Mando says, “If it wasn’t for their money, what else did he need them for?”

Greef shrugs, folding his arms across his chest, “Malsifer seemed like the controlling type… He liked being in control of anything and everything important to him which is money and power. I don’t think she was a part of anything more sinister, but I certainly wouldn’t rule it out.”

“I’ll find that out more when she feels like talking. Right now… I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando crosses his arms.

Greef looks back at the ship behind Mando and back to his visor, “Let her stay until she can figure something out for herself. She can be useful while you work, keep the ship and the kid safe while you’re out…”

Mando nods again in agreement, “It’s my only option right now. Thank you… for your help.”

Greef smiles, “Anytime, old friend.”

--

Mando appears on the ship shortly after you’d put the child to sleep in his shiny egg-like crib. He’d tired himself out from the morning shopping and was happily full of whatever pastry took him the entire walk to eat.

You’d put the bacta pack in the bacta kit soldered on the metal of ship and managed to clear out some of the dust that had blown into the hull while the door was open. You’d observed Mando’s ship to not only be Old Republic but also just old in general. Though it is in excellent flying condition for its age, it lacked in amenities that more modern ships had like touch-pads instead of buttons and actually finished floors and walls. Either Mando is a man of old fashion, or simply too preoccupied to take care of his ship like others do.

He is quiet, walking up and down the hull checking lights, buttons, datapads, and other things. While he did that, you patiently sit on the familiar wedge prepared to strap into the metal wall and prepare for take-off. Your hands occupy themselves with the hang nails that plague your fingers.

You see, from the corner of your eye, something tan and grey. Looking up, it was Mando, handing off to you a pile of clothing he’d gathered in his quiet pacing around the hull.

“Thank you.” You say softly, standing to get to the fresher.

Mando nods, “Meet me in the cockpit, we need to talk.” And he turns before you can ask any questions. He disappears up the ladder.

The cockpit? You think to yourself curiously, what in the worlds does he want to talk about?

The mirror in the fresher is just reflective enough to call itself a mirror. It clearly once existed as a piece of scrap that Mando had repurposed to decorate the blank wall above the sink. But it fulfilled its purpose in reflecting back the visage of yourself you present every day.

Today, you look tired.

Dark circles around your eyes hint at some much needed deep sleep and the tired squint you gave to yourself only emphasizes this.

You look at the clothing Mando handed to you, consisting of a large white shirt and some pants that definitely needed to be tailored to accommodate your height and lack of… lower… masculine features. These are clearly articles of clothing Mando has no use for, and you’re thankful for them despite Mando’s somewhat apparent reluctance.

You undo yourself from your dress, somewhat sad to see the magical colors fall to the floor in a wispy heap. This was healthy though, a transition into a different person. After all, you’re fulfilling the prophecy you’d begun to brainstorm the first night aboard the ship: a change of clothes.

The shirt is square, harsh but hemmed edges of fabric for sleeves, a collar, and buttons to secure said collar closed. It sat rather high on your neck, so you keep the first two buttons undone, one side of the collar falling open to reveal the raw edge of the hem. The sleeves were of a comfortable length, also squared off with a button for cuff-links that you undo and gently fold up your forearm.

Looking back up at yourself in the mirror, you look like a little girl trying on her father’s clothes. It’s clear that they’re too big, but you make do with tucking and folding where you can. But the broad and structured shoulders the shirt gave you made you feel… bigger? Something about it made you feel more robust.

The pants are… another story. Of course they sat a little low on your hips and were too loose around the area where you lacked the facilities of a man. But the utilities of having so many pockets and places to stow away small items brought you some small joy as you cuff the pants around your ankles and tuck the shirt into them.

You style your hair simply up, anything to keep it away from your face and off your shoulders till it’s time to wash and you think what to do about them then.

Looking back into the crusty mirror, though your eyes see themselves, a whole new person has taken shape behind them. It felt foreign to you to appear so fresh-faced, neutral, and unassuming in a world where Malsifer demanded you always looked your best as an extension of himself and his appearance. That usually translated in wearing makeup on a near-daily basis, and extravagant colorful gowns to even the most casual of events.

The dress is a pastel mess on the floor of the fresher, and looking down at it, you feel a twinge of guilt for having to abandon it. It’s pretty…

You bundle it up and head out from the fresher.

You walk quietly across the hull, your bare feet making light patting noises as you went. Sitting at the wedge in the wall, you ditch the dress behind you and slip on your boots again before standing up, and head towards the cockpit like Mando told you to.