#they live in a tiny ass town. i never understood how people move to a tiny town with no connections there. like they have no family there

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Lately I've been going to bed around 4-6am and I have to wake up at 9am every day so I've only been getting 3-5 hours of sleep, but last night I went to bed at 2am so maybe I wouldn't feel like shit the next day, but I woke up at 6am and could not fall back asleep because I feel wide awake. My body hates me and doesn't want me to ever have more than five hours of sleep I guess

[achubbydumpling]

A Little Extra: Too Fat For Furniture

Rating: Explicit Words: 1419 Pairing: None just Lee Additional Tags: Extreme Weight Gain, Mobility Struggles, Breaking Furniture, Diets (mentioned), but Lee doesn't lose any weight

[on AO3]

After getting shot and nearly bleeding out in a remote forest in the middle of nowhere Lee was less than eager to return to work. In his absence, one of his former deputies had campaigned to be elected Sheriff. Of course, he'd won.

Lee had been bitter the first few weeks, but slowly the blessing in disguise had revealed itself. Suddenly, Lee was to be pitied instead of hated. His poor sister and that terrible incident with the Russel boy.

It was like the whole town had forgotten about any of his unsavoury business from Before. Obviously, Lee took advantage of that.

It started when his neighbour brought over a pie.

"I know you boys don't cook well. I wouldn't want you starving after that tragedy!"

Lee was perfectly capable of feeding himself, but he wasn't about to decline free dessert.

"Aw, thank you, Ms Smith. You didn't have to but… yeah, you know what? I have been having some difficulty readjusting, you know?" Lee tacked on an awkward laugh for full effect, and it worked like a charm.

Ms Smith's expression softened, and she patted him on the shoulder.

"I know it's difficult. You know when my husband died…"

Listening to her blabber about her husband got on Lee's nerves quickly, but she promised to bring by some more food tomorrow.

With that, the flood gates were opened.

The whole town must've heard about what Lee said because they all came flocking to his house carrying platters and platters of food. Even after a month, a few stubborn souls stuck around to make sure he was well-fed. And it sure was showing.

He'd never been skinny or anything, but the bit of pudge around his middle blossomed into a full-on gut. A heavy ball that sat on his thighs and pushed out into his lap more with every day.

Lee made a few half-assed attempts at losing the weight.

No beer before bed or no desserts after dinner, but he rarely stuck with it longer than a week and any weight he did lose came back double or triple the week after that.

'Well-fed' quickly turned into 'fat'. Lee was slowly encroaching on a size that he hadn't ever seen on other people.

On one memorable call, he'd had to help a man weighing double what he did back then out of his tub. The guy had to have been 400lbs, maybe even closer to 450lbs.

Lee had crossed 300lbs after eight months of consistent feeding. After a year he was pushing closer to 350lbs than 300lbs, but he ended the year without crossing that boundary just yet.

Seeing that number on the scale shocked Lee back into dieting for two whole weeks. Food piled up in his fridge and freezer as he valiantly tried to stick to tiny portions. It all culminated in a two-day binge that ended with Lee pinned to his sofa.

He'd never really understood how someone could struggle to get to his feet, but he learned then. No matter how much he tried, his stomach hurt too much. His bloated belly got in the way and his puffy arms couldn't get any leverage on the battered sofa.

Lee had done a number on the sofa. A deep dent into the left side where he usually sat to watch TV (or stuff his face more frequently now). The small dining table had quickly gotten too uncomfortable for his growing gut and eventually, one of the foldable chairs had given out under his heft.

He'd struggled just to get up from the floor again. It was a humbling experience but with food still, on the table, Lee didn't think too much about it and just moved to the living room. Not like he could break his sofa, right?

Wrong.

It did take until Lee reached over 400lbs. His rickety, old sofa just wasn't made for this weight constantly torturing it. Sitting down normally had just gotten too much work and one of the supporting slats broke with a loud crack when Lee let himself fall down.

While it scared the hell out of Lee, he'd reached a sort of breaking point. There wasn't any use in losing weight now, right? And he'd surely plateau at some point. So, he still ate his breakfast.

Food deliveries had petered out a while ago. Once he'd really blown up no one wanted to keep feeding the fat (ex)-Sheriff, but his pension was good enough to keep up with his habit. He didn't need money for much else.

400lbs turned into 450lbs without him really noticing. Lee didn't think it was possible to gain 50lbs without so much as a creeping suspicion but sure enough, his (new) scale wasn't lying. His clothes were getting tighter too, but Lee had had enough foresight to get something with a bit more room.

A lot more room actually because his clothes held up until 500lbs. That's when the weight really hit him. He'd been struggling with lots of little things so far and slowly decreasing stamina, but it was like he'd crossed a magic boundary from being able to still do most things to struggling for breath while he was sitting on his ass (to eat another meal).

Things started getting really scary when Lee felt both sides of his sofa brushing his sides. No matter how he sat his wide hips and thick love handles were always brushing the sofa's arms.

Of course, that didn't slow a proper glutton down.

If anything, Lee increased his food intake. Some subconscious realisations that he was cutting his life short with every additional pound he gained, every hour he spent on his ass instead of exercising and every single, greasy bite he shoved past his lips. So, of course, he needed to make the best of the time he had left.

Lee committed to his lifestyle of hedonism, not just food-wise, but also by overindulging in his drinking, spending his pension instead of saving anything and getting even lazier. Most of his days were spent inside, but occasionally, he longed for a change of scenery and undertook the laborious trek outside.

Walking had become increasingly difficult, and his gait had turned into a shuffling waddle. The heavy bag on his shoulder didn't make it easier, but he couldn't imagine sitting outside without something to snack on and a few drinks.

Just lifting his feet exhausted him and his joints screamed at him with every lumbering step. But he made it out to the porch. It was a cool evening and Lee sighed when the breeze cooled his overheated skin.

However, that moment of relief wasn't enough to cut through the pain of walking and standing. He spotted the porch swing not too far away. He hadn't been out here in a few months, so it looked a bit run down, but the wood looked sturdy enough. Surely, it could hold him. He dropped the bag full of food right in front of the swing.

Then, Lee tried to sit down as gently as possible but at his size that wasn't really an option. He crashed down onto the wooden bench and while it groaned underneath his weight, it held.

For a moment.

Just as Lee started to trust the construction of the porch swing and started to relax one of the chains to his right creaked with an ominous tone. A second later it snapped, and Lee was dumped to the ground.

The porch shook under the impact. Lee's first instinct was to get back to his feet, but the walk outside had exhausted him so much, that he took the opportunity to finally catch his breath.

Dread set in at the realization of how fat he'd let himself get. Every meal flashed before him, but before he could dwell on it the urgent need to breathe took over his mind again. Wheezing gulps of breath that still didn't seem to fill his lungs. His chest was too heavy for them to fully expand.

It took some time before he could concentrate on anything but breathing. Lee was still wheezing a bit now, but to his delight, he spotted the bag he'd nearly crushed. It was squished against his leg and Lee actually struggled a bit to reach around to grab a package of sugar cookies.

Once he crammed his mouth full of cookies all those negative thoughts vanished, and Lee fell back into the mindless consumption that had gotten him into this situation.

[wolfieslae]

"liam saved theo from his never ending nightmare so theo saved liam from himself"

it’s no surprise to anyone, i’m a tiny bit obsessed with thiam.

when theo first arrived to the show i liked him already, i felt like he was an interesting character with an interesting backstory, i wanted to learn more. the more i did the worst it got but i kept thinking he was interesting and i liked seeing how he was able to plan his take on the pack. he managed to insert himself in the life of the characters and turned it around, when his plan failed, he still got his pack but ended up killing them all, i admit, kinda real bad, and then he got drag down to hell.

during the fifth season we found out that when he was ten he was manipulated into thinking his older sister – tara – wanted him to have her heart, because his had a genetic disorder. he believed the dread doctors when they told him they could make him better and he killed his own sister – taking her heart. he then left with them and was raised by them, raised believing that power was all that mattered and that he would be nothing and no one without it.

in season six episode six liam and hayden decided to bring him back because they needed his help with a supernatural creature in town, while hayden was more resistant, liam did not hesitate to smash kira’s sword into the ground and free theo, saving him from his never ending nightmare at the same time.

very rapidly we understood that whatever power theo might have stolen from his chimera pack – more specifically josh – he wasn’t in possession of them anymore, he was back to "classic theo" part coyote and part wolf. after he helped with the ghost rider, liam and hayden locked theo in the holding cell at the sheriff station. theo wanted out and liam wanted answer, they made a deal and liam broke the sword and with it any chance of theo going back to hell, his never ending nightmare.

when they needed him more, liam and stilinski broke theo out of jail but unfortunately the sheriff was taken and only theo and liam were left, leaving them no choice but to work together to flee the ghost riders. they – liam – had one goal, lure them away from scott, lydia and malia who were trying to get stiles back.

the both of them ended up at the hospital where, and i quote, liam said "when the ghost riders find us, i’m not gonna do anything for you, i’m not gonna help you, i’m not gonna save you, i’m gonna do exactly what you’d do to me, i’m gonna use you as bait". we all know he did not keep that promise, in fact, while fighting with a ghost rider, he pointed a gun at the one theo was fighting and shot, saving his life in the process. to "pay him back" and maybe prove that he wasn’t as bad as liam made him out to be, theo offered himself as bait.

while we all thought he had been taken in the hunt, we found out he hadn’t when out of nowhere he came back and saved liam from one of the ghost riders at the school, leaving liam able to get on with his god awful – but working – plan to get into the hunt.

while theo later on fought at the side of scott, malia and peter, he was forgotten and left alone. obligated to live in his car.

we found that out on season six episode twelve, where i noticed that the deputies coming to wake him up seemed to always wear a different uniform, did theo move around? or is the beacon county just, that big?

he was shot and didn’t come back until three episodes later (not gonna lie, these were the three most stressful weeks of my life).

when in episode twelve we found out he was living in his car, we also found out that he might have been the first target for the anuk-ite. thankfully, theo caught the spider early and got rid of it before it took his body and with it, his life.

when he came back in episode fifteen, he was hang up and tied to an electric fence in gerard and monroe’s headquarters. along with two other werewolves. when he thought he was free, he ended not being and was taken into custody.

during episode fifteen, when nolan was caught trying to sneak into the sheriff station liam automatically recognized him as the one who tried to make him shift in front of the whole school by beating him up. by scott’s reaction we understand that he might not have told him. but some of the shots during this scene were interesting, showing liam on the first plan with a close-shot accompanied by a blurry theo in the back. we understand why in the next scene that they share, in the bathroom.

theo confronts liam about what is happening, saying he will not risk his freedom. while liam first manages to stay calm during the discussion, he looses control when talking about brett and lori’s death. he punches theo before heading out and saying "i’m still working on my anger".

while we don’t know what happens between episode fifteen and episode sixteen, we understand that something might have clicked in liam’s brain, because, while he reacted poorly, theo seemed to be the only one noticing that something was wrong with liam. could this be why he brought him with him at the zoo? maybe.

it could also be because theo seems to be able to handle liam. theo has a past and liam knows it, theo doesn’t shy away in front of danger and maybe this is what liam needs at the moment? someone who will not hesitate to get in the way to stop him from doing something stupid?

there is also a line in this episode where theo says "i’m not dying out here because you want pay back against a kid who kicked your ass" and while i have no recollection of anyone explaining to theo what happened in the prior episodes with nolan and liam, maybe someone did between episode fifteen and sixteen, liam perhaps?

the car conversation is also interesting because now theo knows how bad liam has it with his anger, and the fear the anuk-ite brings is not helping "people only feel one emotion at a time liam". he also knows liam needs help "you brought me here because that thing that came out of the wild hunt is affecting you too" at this moment theo has already made up his mind, whether liam wants his help or not, he is going to get it.

and funny enough, liam doesn’t seem that resilient – oh he is yes – but not so much because deep down he knows he needs it, he also knows that whatever technique theo uses, it seems to be working because in episode seventeen, during the locker-room scene, liam calms down a bit too quickly for my liking (wrong i absolutely loved that).

theo uses reversed psychology and makes it to seem like liam would turn into a murderer, into someone like him "i’m the one with experience here", theo even uses "we" so that liam can feel more of a "bad person" because of what he might do. but in the end, it works and liam calms down.

now here is my favorite part, right after that liam asks theo "why do you keep trying to save me" and while theo answers something so dumb i don’t even want to mention it, i know it’s because liam saved him first and now theo feels obligated to return the favor (well, he does seem to enjoy it anyways).

theo can be seen in the next episode, number eighteen, right at the beginning, in the animal clinic with scott, liam and mason.

mason agrees with theo and liam doesn’t seem to like it, everything he says to or about theo seems to come out as an insult, but why? they seemed to be getting along well in the prior episode? finishing each other sentences when showing the dead bodies gabe brought them to to scott and malia? maybe because he’s starting to realize he might need theo more than he thought? and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it?

either way, theo and mason are sent to the tunnels to find aaron. they are both clearly uncomfortable being with each other but theo even more because the tunnels are where everything started and he surely does not want to stay or be here at all.

mason ends up hurt, and theo decides to try and take his pain away. first of all, great decision, it shows that he is trying to change, that he at least knows he can do it at some point and wants to. unfortunately he isn’t able "you can’t take pain if you don’t care". theo still decides to stay with mason while waiting for help.

the next time we see theo, it’s at the beginning of episode twenty, the finale. he is in his car, driving to somewhere on the phone with scott.

here are some details that don’t sit right with me. their phone call lasted twenty six seconds. there is no way theo answered the phone, got in his car, and drove to what seems to be the highway in twenty six seconds, so where was he going? was he leaving town because of what had happened with mason in the tunnels or liam’s sneaky comments at the clinic? because even after all his efforts, he is still not being accepted and knows he probably never will? probably. but i’m glad scott called and asked for his help.

he got to the hospital and saved liam’s ass – again might i add.

then, there is what is for me, their most important scene, for their relationship but also for their own character’s arc.

the elevator scene.

where they promise each other they weren’t gonna die for each other. where they lie their ass off.

i have a theory about this scene. remember the look? yes that one, the famous look down. based on my calculations, it is way too low to be directed to liam’s lips as people believe it to be, no, i think it’s directed to his chest, most importantly, his heart. because liam lied, and theo heard it. now of course theo lied too but he’s a professional he knows how to keep his heart steady.

and of course liam knows that theo knows because the look gives it away, which is why he accepts to fight with him (and damn, they make a pretty good team! i mean, that back roll? come on!) and i think in that moment they understood that no matter what, they can’t hide from this anymore, whatever this is (my money’s on anchor with a touch of love).

but in that moment i knew. i knew that because liam allowed himself to get help from theo, allowed himself to be anchored by theo, he anchored theo too. he gave him a reason and the opportunity to stay on the right path, on the path to redemption. and in that moment theo realized that he mattered, that he had a purpose.

can we also quickly talk about the small shot of theo flinching at the sound of the gun going off? when has he ever done that? he was literally raised by the dread doctors, he’s not afraid of anything, but not knowing if liam was on the other end of that gun shot scared him.

now we all know that part of why theo was able to take gabe’s pain was because he saw himself in him, the kid who trusted the wrong people and suffered the consequences, just like he did. but part of why he was able to care was because liam cared. liam gave theo a reason to care.

and this is why i love them so much. because their relationship, again, whatever it is, is special. it’s unlike any we’ve ever seen in the show. it’s important because it takes into consideration who they are on their own. it doesn’t exist just to add a relationship or a story-line to the show, it exists to fit on their own story-line, to make them better people.

as the title says, liam saved theo from his never ending nightmare so theo saved liam from himself (and fell in love with him in the process).

they are so important to me because i like when relationships have meaning, and theirs seems to be just that, meaningful.

[beskarberry]

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

<-Previous Next->

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers. 

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!”  Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!”  With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.”  You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago.  Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.”  At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.”  Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!”  Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face. 

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

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TAG LIST  @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​ @mandoinevarro​ @kaermorons​

[captainkappa]

Fanfic:: Hunter and Prey

To be a Mandalorian pirate is to be both hunter and prey. This, Din understood after being taken into their care as a child.

Now he is hunting a Mandalorian artifact to deliver his charge to the aquatic sorcerers in order to teach him how to handle his magic. His quest brings him to a sandy stretch of shore, Mos Pelgo.

Link to AO3

For Day 4 of @dincobbweek aka AU day!

The prophecy as foretold; I have a hyperfixation, therefore I must write a pirate AU. And oh my god, I loved writing this fic so so much.

Huge shout out to @staranon95 for betaing and @ayantiel for providing the needed inspiration to get this thing going!

-=-=-=-

Mayfeld took in a deep breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs. There was a lot riding on today, his reputation, Ran’s reputation, but with the Empire’s finest knelt at his feet, all of their note-worthy possessions, he thought he was doing pretty well.

“No one makes any dumb decisions and you all will get to live,” he called out, voice carrying over the wind so even the poor bastards at the end would be able to hear. “We’re just here for what’s ours and then we’ll leave you be. You’ll never have seen us.”

Xi’an was getting her brother from the prisoners down below and Burg was raiding the captain’s office. Sure, the objective was to get Xi’an’s brother before he made it to the Empire’s colonies, but this was an Imperial vessel. The three of them would have to be stupid not to rob the Imps blind when they had the opportunity.  Plus, their informant assured them that not only was this a prisoner’s vessel, it was a transport vessel, moving a map that led to a whole lot of Mandalorian gold.

It was the perfect plan; do a job for Ran, undermine Ran, get filthy rich, and live the rest of their days on an island in the Outer Isles.

And everything was going great, when Burg burst through the captain’s doors, startling everyone on board. Everyone jumped, bar Mayfeld. Burg cut an intimidating figure, a mountain of a man, horns poking through holes he made in his hat so he had to crouch to get into most places. His sudden presence didn’t startle Migs. What was a surprise was the concern on his face.

“Migs! The captain is dead!”

He rolled his eyes. “And? Do you want me to pay you back for the ammo it took to do that?”

“No, he was already dead! And the map’s gone too!”

His blood ran cold. He gave up the act and ran into the room, grabbing onto his hat so it wouldn’t fly away. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. He couldn’t tell if there had been a scuffle or it had been Burg who had torn up the room. Drawers were half open, hanging out, papers scattered, a blood-spatter, maybe, but there was so little Migs couldn’t tell if it was recent.

And in the center of it all, the captain, dead in his chair. His body was cool, so Burg wasn’t bluffing in saying someone had shot him before. There had been a lot of commotion when they had first boarded the ship, could the thief have entered then?

“You swear he was like this when you got in?”

Burg nodded.

“And he wasn’t holding a pistol?”

Burg nodded again and the evidence confirmed it. There was only one pistol in the room, halfway across the floor. That didn’t happen when someone tried to off themself for fear of the pirates coming on board.

Migs pushed the body to the floor, getting on his knees to root through the drawers, hoping to find the map, to be able to smack Burg upside the head, but there was nothing. He ripped them out of the desk, holding them upside down and shaking them, but still nothing. Just useless documentation with Imperial seals splayed everywhere.

He slammed the top of the desk as he stood up.

“Did you check everywhere?! Every possible drawer, false drawer, any of that bullshit?”

“Yeah! But it ain’t here!”

Migs pulled off his hat, balling up the rim in fist before throwing it back on.

Ran would tell him not to get greedy. There was an unknown element at play now, so focus on getting Qin out and run. With the group back to what it was before Mando sold them out, they could rob big ships again, but who the fuck cared about that. If Ran knew about the map, he would’ve said to hell with Qin, focus on the pay-out.

Migs stormed out of the quarters and back onto the deck. It was too sunny to see, but that didn’t stop his furious walk back to the line of Imperials on the ship. He grabbed the one in the fanciest looking clothing, who he could only assume was the quartermaster or second mate, and hauled him to his feet by his collar.

The man made a choking sound and face-to-face, looked at Migs with terror.

“Where the fuck is it?”

“Wh-Wh-Wh-?”

“The fucking map! Lost Mandalorian treasure? I need it, and if you don’t, Burg here will make sure you meet those fucking dead ass Mandalorians that hid it in the first place.”

Something must’ve gotten the man brave, because he said, “I thought Mandalorians were extinct, like you pirates are going to be.”

And as if signing his death wish, he spat on the floorboards near his feet.

Well, Migs wanted a nice clean run, but he had a reputation to uphold.

He threw the man back down to the floor and before he could get his arms out from under him, Migs pulled out his flintlock pistol and aimed it at him.

He was a second away from painting the floor with this asshole, when Xi’an ran out from under the deck, her brother trailing behind.

“Captain! It’s Mando!”

That made Migs whip his head up. “Mando? Here?”

She nodded. “We saw him climbing down. Port side, now!”

The four of them raced to the railing, watching as the small craft sped away, faster than any ship could hope to move. She flew familiar colors, the flag of someone who had sold Qin out in the first place.

Migs thought today couldn’t get any worse.

Then the flare went out, bright and brilliant even in the daytime sky. An Imperial flare, that would’ve had to have come from the captain’s quarters, that they wouldn’t have been able to spot in the chaos of the room, that was absolutely going to call every Imperial ship in a hundred miles radius.

Fuck.

Fucker didn’t even have the decency to flip them off as he sailed away.

-=-

Din keeps his eyes low to the ground, brim of his hat pulled low over his head, scarf pulled round his face as he weaves in the crowd. It’s Nevarro, so he knows he blends in with the rest of the criminals that inhabit the port town, but he finds himself more cautious these days.

Especially with the small cargo at his side.

It’s only when he takes a corner into a dark alley, down a set of stairs just off the tavern, into the gloom, does he look at the bag at his side.

As they passed a torch on the wall, the Child looked up at him and beamed, his pointy teeth just coming in, ears unfurling as he lifted the flap.

“You doing ok?”

The child babbled in reply.

“Good, we’ll be there soon.”

For what was basically an underground network for a bunch of criminals, it was surprisingly clean. There were puddles of brackish water that Din stepped around to avoid, along with passing others, but it wasn’t as piss-soaked as Nevarro was up top.

Hiding a whole community under a criminal network didn’t seem like the smartest idea at first, but the thing about criminals is they can either be paid off or disappeared with little problem. As he stepped around a pair of running children, he hoped there would be one day Mandalorians wouldn’t have to hide. He had no idea how that would happen, but no one had ever died on hope.

They finally arrived at their destination, a door on the far side of the hallway. He knocked on the door and opened it when he heard the familiar voice say, “Enter.”

She was already sitting at a table, a bottle of rum in front of her, a candle burning, doing its best to light up the space. Her hat was beside her, feathers drooping so they touched the brim. He made a mental note to pick up more on his next supply run.

He took off his hat as he shut the door behind him, keeping his bandana firmly in place.

“How was your trip?” the Quartermaster asked coolly, picking up the bottle to pour him a drink. It had been years since she had manned a ship, but the title still carries in their community.

He pulled out both the kid and treasure from the bag, setting the kid down on the ground to run around the space before sitting across from her.

“Successful.”

He spread out the map in front of the Quartermaster. He heard those fools talking about Mandalorian gold, and it wasn’t entirely true. It was a map to a compass that would reveal what the holder most desired, which for some might be Mandalorian pirate gold or power or love.

Or the location of the aquatic sorcerers the child needed.

The child wasn’t fully human. He needed to spend a lot of time in water in order to spend time on land, which meant a lot of time spent swimming alongside the Razor Crest. He could also shoot water up out of the ocean, a gift Din was well acquainted with, it being one of the child’s favorite games to play.

Since he had failed to fully deliver the child to the Empire, he had had privateers and other pirates on their tail for months. This map was their last hope to make sure the child got back with his people and then…

And then Din would go back to what he did best; providing for a people now scattered by his actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the Quartermaster’s chair scraping back. She stood up, only to bow over again, her back parallel to the table. She moved her scarf to the side so her lips could ghost over the map as she spoke words of power into the paper.

She stood back up fully as the ink on the map shifted and moved. Waves rolled in place, sea serpents dipped in and out of the surface, all the while the path moved like an eel, slippery and changing, until everything at last was at rest and the ink seeped back into the page.

All three bowed their heads over the map. The starting point of the path was now the tiny cluster of islands of Nevarro and the end point was…

“Tatooine?” he asked out loud. “They’re basically land locked. What would a Mandalorian be doing there?”

Tatooine was a coastal stretch of land, surrounded by jagged rocks and ship-wrecks on one side and impassable mountains on the other, with desert in the valley.

She raised her head, scarf now back in place. “I suspect you’ll find out when you go there.”

He nodded and the child cooed. Din looked over at the child grabbing at the map, hands scratching at the lines like he could pick them back up.

“Come on, little one. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

-=-

Din sailed into Mos Pelgo, following the instructions Peli had given him.

“You have to arrive at low tide, that’s the only way you’ll see all the shit you have to get through. If you haven’t decided to turn tail and leave, you have to keep to the south. If you go north, you’re dead. Last I heard, there’s a pile of sticks they call a dock if you keep going south.”

The dock was a simple thing, as she’d said. Rotten wood, with just one post tall enough to hold the rope to the ship. Din was half tempted to jump straight into the water and swim to shore rather than test the strength of the wood, but resisted the urge with the Child in his bag.

He could see the town in the distance and set off on the beach, letting the Child out to stomp around on the beach.

The town was small, a couple of shacks on stilts for the stormy season. Few people were out, and those that were openly stared at the two of them. Din paid them no mind, one goal in his head.

He walked into the cantina, knowing if there ever was a way to learn about a town, it was going to their cantina first.

And not half a minute of talking with the Weequay bartender, the “Captain” walked in. The man wasn’t a Mandalorian, his face was bare, showing off white hair, sun-freckled pale skin, and a well-trimmed beard. His coat was sturdy, but patched to high heaven, with a bright red scarf around his neck. He wore the compass on his belt like he was flaunting it. It made Din’s blood boil. If Din were a younger man, he would’ve shot him right there for it.

But he tried talking. The compass should be in the hands of a Mandalorian. The Captain swore up and down he had gotten it fairly and therefore it should be his.

“I’ve given you an easy out already. Take it off,” Din said, “Or I will.”

“We gonna do this in front of the kid?”

“He’s seen worse.”

The Captain stood, fingers already itching for the flintlock on his hip, no doubt preloaded like Din’s were. They were interrupted by cries from outside. The Captain holds up a hand before smoothly exiting the cantina. Din follows, but stops in the doorframe to take it all in.

There were several broken fishing boats being led through the rocky shores, dragged onto the sands, people shouting, people carrying others. The Captain was in the middle of it all, shouting orders, trying to bring organization to the chaos.

In the distance, was the unmistakable view of a large tentacle slipping beneath the waves.

Din didn’t want to get in the way of this organized chaos, but then a twi’lek with scarred lekku was shoving bandages into his arms and gesturing over to a house across the way. Din wasn’t going to say no to that.

The house was quieter than outside, only pained whimpers and soft, hushed voices. A collection of wooden splinters already piled beside the bed as the doctor continued to take tweezers to one of the people who came in. Din placed the bandages by their side before stepping back, nearly colliding with the Captain.

He looked at the scene with a pensive expression. Immediately, Din could see that his care for his people went further than words. There was corded energy in those shoulders, anger that wanted to be released at the creature that did this to his people.

The Captain ushered him out of the room.

As they walked back to the cantina, the Captain said, “How about this; you help me with the kraken, I give you back your compass.”

“Deal.”                                                                                                          

-=-

The Captain led him past the edge of town to the cliff’s edge. On the journey he told his name was Cobb Vanth; Din held off on his own introduction.

“None of us are much for traveling,” Cobb said, “but the kraken planted itself right where we normally fish. Even when I send people to fish in a different spot, the damn thing follows after. We’ll be starved out sooner rather than later.”

They crested over the hill and the expanse of ocean fell before them. The kraken was visible from the cliffs, a dark mark under the waters, swimming languidly around the coast.

Din did a mental inventory of what he had on the Razor Crest; a handful of spears, a harpoon, some rope. Cobb had shown him the town’s stores before they left. It wasn’t going to be enough.

He stepped back from the ledge, back where Cobb is. “Is there a Tusken encampment nearby?”

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “The Tuskens? But they’re-”

“They know the coast and water better than anyone. We can’t kill it with just the two of us.”

“If they know the area then won’t they want to… I don’t know, not kill it?”

“Then, we’ll just have to ask.”

“Ask? You don’t ask a Tusken anything.”

He could, in fact, ask a Tusken for things. Din was thankful for the cloth in front of his face, masking most of his pride as he watched Cobb’s jaw drop as he asked the Tuskens for their help. It turned out, they did want help in defeating the kraken. Its sudden appearance had also affected their fishing.

They had to travel further to where the kraken had made his home. Din stayed in the back with Cobb, where he seemed more comfortable.

Cobb also apparently liked to talk when he’s nervous.

“So, you spend your days on the ocean? All the time?”

“Mhm. Do you spend all your days on land?”

“Mostly. I used to be on a ship, but not like you. I was a galley slave on an Imperial ship, but before then I had dreams of being as free as you, traveling the waters on a boat with a crew of my own.” His face fell. “Haven’t thought about that dream… for a while.”

To have something that should have meant freedom be taken away from you, Din couldn’t imagine.

“But you escaped?”

“Kriff, yes. Raised a mutiny, sunk those fuckers to the bottom of the sea. I found the compass in the captain’s drawers and it pointed us here. Few more people joined, some left, but it’s as home as we can get.”

Din could only nod. He found himself surprised with the thought that he was glad that Cobb got the compass. He had no idea what the Empire was doing with a Mandalorian artifact, but it was definitely put to better use finding people a home.

They made camp up in the dunes. Din had to waste a bullet, firing into the air to disrupt the startings of a fight between Cobb and the Tuskens. Planning was slightly easier after that.

He took off his coat, bundling it up into a nest for the child to sit in. He rolled up his sleeves to free up his arms as he continued translating. He noticed Cobb looking at the tattoos that traveled up his arms. He doesn’t comment on it.

-=-

Small boats littered the coastline the next day. The plan was for people from both the Tusken band and Mos Pelgo would distract the kraken long enough for a boat of explosives to be set up and ignited close enough to kill it but not the people.

It doesn’t go great.

There were enough boats in the water to pick up people who capsized in the wake of the monster’s waves, the thing lashing out as folks took pot shots with pistols and arrows. They managed to set the boat laden with explosives off in its direction, but when the time came to ignite, the explosion happened, but it just managed to scratch the beast.

Din reached for the harpoons he brought as backup. He and Cobb try firing at the kraken, but they skim off its skin.

The Tuskens were still firing their weapons at the creature. Mos Pelgans took turns firing guns and reloading in turn. All it did was keep the creature at bay, which wouldn’t last long at all. He needed to think of something to kill the creature or everyone here would die.

He furtively scanned around the deck for something, anything. His gaze landed on the extra explosives they had kept on hand. The monster’s skin was too thick for the explosions to take but elsewhere…

Din doesn’t think, he just moves. He grabbed as many sticks of dynamite as he could, stuffing them in the pockets of his coat. There was a coil of rope tied off to the railing, which he took and wrapped around his waist. Even after years of living on ships, his hands shook as he tried to tie it. Suddenly, Cobb was in front of him, taking the rope from his hands and tying it tight around his midsection.

He pulled it hard, once, twice, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

“What are you gonna do?” Cobb asked.

“I’m not sure,” Din said, pulling the rope tighter around his waist.

“Then what should I do?”

Din looked at him, really looked at this man who was willing to do so much for his community in light of so much hardship in his own life. He looked back at the dark shape in the water racing for their boats

He took off his hat and tossed it at Cobb. “Take care of the Child.”

And before Cobb could do anything beyond catch the hat, Din leaped off the side of the ship. He couldn’t tell if Cobb shouted anything after him as the kraken burst from the water. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as he fell straight into the kraken’s maw.

-=-

It was nothing but darkness inside the beast. Even with the scarf over his nose, the scent of salt water and death was everywhere. He dug himself in the mouth of the beast, boots scraping against bony protuberances in the things throat. He emptied his pockets as fast as he could while holding on for dear life as the monster bucked and screamed.

He hoped the kraken was out of range of the boat.

When he was left with one explosive left, he fished around in his pockets for his matchbook. He struck the match and lit the explosive before chucking it down with all the others like it.

He turned and clawed at the kraken’s beak, heart pounding in his chest. If he doesn’t get out of here before the explosion goes off-

Suddenly, a roaring filled his ears and a mass of hot air flung him out of the monster. His scarf twists around his head and he can’t see anything as he flails. He landed hard in the water and then it was silent as the dark water pulled him down.

He wasn’t sure how long he drifted. The shock of cold water and the heaviness of his coat made movement impossible.

He didn’t regret asking Cobb to take care of the child, he’d be in good hands.

Something wrapped around his waist and pulled. Din tried to resist, not sure if he was being dragged toward air or to his death, but his arms were useless, heavy and leaden. He had no strength and so he let it happen.

And then they broke through the surface of the water, a cool wind icing his skin instantly. He took a shuddering breath and nearly choked on water and his sopping wet scarf. Hands came up and pulled the scarf off his face. He coughed, chest shuddering with each intake of breath. He realized he’s being held, arms around his waist, and it isn’t until he can take a full breath did he finally bother to wipe salt water from his eyes and look at who was holding him.

It was Cobb. His hat and coat were off, red shirt darkened to maroon with all the water. He was searching his face for… something.

Din took a breath, resisting the urge to cough again. “I thought I said- you need to take care of the kid!”

“I am!” Cobb said, holding his head up to avoid a passing wave. “By making sure his daddy lives!”

Cobb maneuvers his arms so he’s gripping a floating piece of rowboat. It’s thankfully big enough that when Din leans his whole weight on it, he doesn’t sink back into the ocean.

“Everyone okay?”

Cobb gave him a look that Din thinks means he’s stupid. “Yes, thanks to you, partner.”

They only have to tread water for a couple of minutes before a rowboat headed by the twi’lek Issa-Or arrives. Cobb makes sure Din is pulled aboard before climbing in himself.

-=-

They stayed the night. Din isn’t in any position to argue with Cobb’s hospitality. He didn’t think he���d be able to turn the wheel on the Razor Crest let alone sail it out of harbor.

Cobb opened his house to them. It was a small abode, raised off the ground like the others. Its small size made it even more obvious the telescope and sextant were on display on the only table in the main room.

Din wanted to pass out then and there, but Cobb firmly set him in one of the wooden chairs before disappearing behind the one door in the house. He returned with a roll of bandages and water. He thought it was to drink, until Cobb started peeling back the wet layers of Din’s clothes to reveal burns and scratches he hadn’t even felt. Cobb dips a rag into the freshwater, rinsing out the salt and detritus from the wounds.

He worked in silence, both too exhausted from the day to say much. They could hear the sounds of the party outside, Tusken and Mos Pelgan alike celebrating the death of the beast.

A drunken group walked past and the two of them can hear the butchered shanty they sing. They glanced to the window then to each other, sharing hidden smiles.

All patched up, Cobb gave him the bed and set something up for the child. Din knew he should be aware of his host, should know where his host himself is sleeping the night, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with exhaustion tugging him into the bed.

Voices from the other room kept him up,  cracking one eye open to focus on the now familiar drawl.

“You know, in the past few days, whenever I looked at the compass for a sign of how to kill the kraken, it always pointed out to sea. I didn’t know what that meant, if I had to go sailing for a kraken expert or find a sunken treasure that would kill the kraken. I don’t know, I was getting desperate. But now… I’m thinking it might’ve been pointing to your dad.”

He heard the child’s burbles of delight and finally, finally, he slid into unconsciousness.

-=-

Din woke up to the sun shining in his eyes, light reflecting off the compass placed on the pillow that wasn’t there last night. Any lingering drowsiness left him when he realized what it is.

The Mandalorian compass.

He grabbed it and opened it up, thinking about Grogu and the teacher he needed. The arrow spun around, until stopping, hovering at a point out back toward the ocean.

A heading. He had a heading.

He fell back into the bed, just staring at the compass. It was embedded in a box made of dark wood, carvings all around the edges, Mando’a script, if he had to guess. It’s incomprehensible, chipped to the point of  being illegible.  

Something in the bed crinkled as he shifted. He turned and searched for the source and founda scrap of paper. It took a moment for him to parse, but it was just Cobb letting him know he had business to attend to and he would be back when Din left.

Right... they had to leave this town to continue their quest.

He reminded himself of that as he went out to find the child. The house sounded suspiciously quiet for all the mischief the child got into.

-=-

They got their affairs in order quicker than expected. Some people had spent the night alongside the Tuskens preparing the kraken meat to distribute to the rest of the town – and Din, apparently.

It seemed like the whole town had come out to see them off. They apparently had held off giving their thanks until they knew he was conscious. Din looked over the grateful townspeople’s heads to see Issa talking intently with Cobb. When Cobb glanced over his way, he ducked his head back down.

Normally he would sneak out of this kind of attention, but the kid was eating it up, beaming like he was the one who took down the beast, so Din went down the line, nodding respectfully at every given comment.

By the time he got to the end of the line, he was already ready to take a nap, but he raised a hand to bid them all good-bye and turned to walk out of town.

“Mando!”

Din turned around to see Cobb running after him, heel kicking up sand.

He stops in front of him. “Do you- do you need help on your quest?”

“Are you offering? Thought you had a town to look after.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, the kraken was our biggest threat, and with the peace brokered with the Tuskens, there’s not much for me here.”

Din tried to tamp down his excitement, not believing what he was hearing. “You still have your sea legs?”

“Long as you don’t lock me up below deck, I should get them just fine.”

“I’d never,” he said quickly. 

Cobb smiled. “Well then, permission to come aboard?”

Din hoped Cobb could tell he was smiling behind the bandana. “Granted.”

-=-

As they sailed out of port, Din kept glancing at Cobb, who was fidgeting up a storm. He kept tapping his fingers against the railing, glancing out at the disappearing coastline.

Finally, after even the Child was tapping on his pant leg to point out Cobb’s unease for him, he hatched a plan. He affixed the wheel so it wouldn’t turn on its own. Then he went about setting the sails and ropes for the same task, keeping them on course while Din took care of Cobb.

“We can still head back if you want to,” he said as he approached the other man.

Cobb turned over his shoulder. “No, I’m not having second thoughts. I’ve… My friends know I’m not exactly made for land.”

“Oh?”

Cobb flipped his scarf up to wipe at his head. “Before we made landfall at Mos Pelgo, we took out a few Imperial ports. Small things that we only noticed because of the ships with galley slaves, but… I ain’t felt that alive in a while.”

Din fished the compass out from his pocket, flicking it open. The arrow spun lazily, pointing back to Cobb for a second before spinning around in the direction they were sailing, the same direction it had pointed when he thought about what Grogu needed.

He snapped it shut, coming up to stand beside Cobb.

“I’m sure we’ll run into something along the way. Here, I’ve got something to show you.”

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Din bit his lip, glad for the bandana. “Do you trust me?”

Cobb chuckled. “I would have to be an idiot to sail out to who knows where with a man I didn’t trust.”

Din nodded. “Then let it be a surprise.”

Cobb acquiesced, letting himself be led to the middle of the deck. When they were under the main mast, Din grabbed the main line in one hand, pulling Cobb close with the other. He ignored how his cheeks flushed with the sudden closeness.

“Hold on tight,” he said.

“Wha-?” That’s all Cobb got out before Din flicked the switch with his foot and the two of them went rocketing up toward the crow’s nest. Cobb’s arms circled around him like a vice, his shouts lost in the wind.

Din made sure Cobb got in the basket before he did, especially when he realized his eyes were shut.

“Cobb, open your eyes.”

Cobb cracked one eye open and then both flew open as he realized what he was seeing. Glittering blue ocean, as far as the eye could see. There were two dots in the far distance, ships of some sort.

There was no better way to experience the vastness of it all, than looking at it from above.

He glanced at Cobb and saw his eyes tearing up a bit.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, letting Cobb take it all in. This was what being on the ocean was supposed to mean, freedom and possibility, beauty and wonder. Din didn’t expect to do much in laying a balm over Cobb’s past, but he hoped he could communicate with this view that he wanted to help when he could.

Cobb turned to face him and Din knew he understood.

“Thank you, Mando.”

“Din, my name is Din Djarin.”

“Then thank you, Din.” And to his surprise, he leaned over and kissed him just above where the scarf covered his face.

Neither of them acknowledged it, except for an exchange of eye contact. Neither could contain the mirth in the crinkles of their eyes.

“We should start plotting a course, shouldn’t we, Captain?” Cobb asked.

“Yes, Captain.”

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the the eye candy :)

In the Offing

Chapter 16 — Heart of Darkness

Summary: In which our heroine buries multiple hatchets

Notes: This one gets a little gruesome!

Chapter 16 on AO3

“Some mistakes get made

That’s alright, that’s okay

In the end it’s better for me

That’s the moral of the story babe”

-Moral of the Story, Ashe

In the dead of night, her phone started ringing. Looking at the clock, she tried to shake off the fog that threatened to pull her back under. Reaching blindly for her cell and seeing the ID, she groggily answered, “What do you want, Killian?”

“Bloody hell, Swan! If I had known you would get in trouble the second I walked out, I never would have left,” he swore, words breaking with stress. She imagined his hair looked wild at this point if his voice was any indication. “Are you alright?”

“Finally got around to reading the paper, I see,” she replied without emotion as she shifted to sit up in bed. Unable to keep an accusation from seeping into her tone, she continued, “Yes, I’ve had a day to get used to the idea that I’m the most hated person in town but it’s nice of you to join the party. Better late than never I suppose.”

“Liam and I went out on the sailboat, we didn’t get back until a couple of minutes ago. Surely you don’t think I would have left you to fend for yourself if I had known,” he rebuked. When she didn’t say anything, he said grimly, “Or maybe that’s exactly what you thought. Love, you’ll not get rid of me that easily. Can I come over? As a friend.”

She hated that he felt like he had to clarify his intentions. Hated even more that she craved his presence. “No, I’m okay. I need to sleep. I...I’m glad you called though,” she confessed, too tired to maintain the facade that she didn’t care.

“Emma, please—”

“I’ll talk to you later,” she cut him off and hung up before she could change her mind. As much as it hurt, the lines between them were blurred enough without him holding her while she slept which is exactly what would happen if he showed up in the middle of the night. She was beginning to realize that a platonic friendship with him would be impossible. For them it would be all or nothing.

She drifted back to sleep and dreamed of the cottage. The sunshine softly illuminating the porch in the early morning, tiny feet running barefoot across the wood floors, laughter filling every corner of the home. She awoke hours later with a deep sense of peace that was foreign to her.

—

The seagulls squawked longingly as they flew back and forth across the marina docks in search of food left behind by visitors. Emma sat on the bench looking out at the ocean, the heat of the day warming the metal in a pleasant way. While she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had come to this place in search of Killian.

Instead someone found her.

“I was hoping I would run into you soon,” Liam greeted her as he settled on the bench. As was his norm, he didn’t crowd or even look in her direction. His gaze was fixed out on the distant waves. The stony countenance that always graced his face, the one that used to irritate her so, had somehow changed into a soothing kind of companionship that she had missed.

“Well, you did and here we are. Two grumpy Bostonians stuck in a picturesque nightmare,” she commented, only half joking. She realized that even before their fight, she hadn’t really spent time with him in weeks. Sneaking a look out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the gash on his head was healing nicely, only a thin red line marking the place where the injury occurred. His arm was still in a sling and probably would be for a couple more weeks but he wasn’t as stiff as he had been. Still stiff of course, this was Liam Jones after all, but pompously so instead of painfully.

“Too right,” he agreed. “Although I think you might have gotten the worst of it.”

“Trip’s not over yet. Don’t jinx yourself,” Emma pointed out with a grimace. “Thank you for the transfer. I wasn’t sure you’d come through.”

“Have I ever not lived up to my end of the bargain, Emma? You did what you said you would, you found half the missing persons on our list, doing it admirably and with your normal tenaciousness. If I ever made you think I doubted your abilities or didn’t count you as important, I regret it. I didn’t bring you along as a...what did you call it? A pretty blonde distraction.”

“I haven’t given up, you know. I still want to help you. It’s only that my priorities have to shift for a while,” she told him. Saying that she needed to save her own skin first would have been too melodramatic but she trusted he understood what she meant. He usually did.

“What they printed in the paper was out of line,” he said heatedly. “It was a smear job and it means nothing. You aren’t alone, Emma. You have friends and we will sort this out. It is a fine tangle though.”

“I’m sure it was a shock to read about my past in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. At least it was for me. There is a reason I like keeping to myself.”

“I knew about your past the second time I talked with Henry, lass,” he laughed. “I think he was feeling me out as a potential suitor. The hope of youth is vast and diabolical.”

Chuckling because that sounded exactly like something Henry would do, she reached out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m too good for the likes of you, even with a criminal history and fresh charges pending.”

“Aye, you’ll get no argument from me,” he agreed. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he muttered, “Speaking of women who are too good for me, Elsa and I are getting married this Saturday.”

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. The tips of his ears were a faint pink and his lips had softened into a satisfied grin. “I don’t know what to say. Congratulations! That’s really fast.”

“Or really slow depending on how you look at it,” he responded. “I’ve loved her for years and I don’t want to wait another minute. Her sister will be in town on a short break for the holiday so we decided it was the perfect time. We want you to be there. After all if it weren’t for you, I’d still have my head stuck up my ass.”

Snorting, she nodded. “That’s probably true. Honestly, I thought you were an incurable case so I guess you deserve some credit too. But Liam, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I have this shooting hanging over my head and people will talk. I don’t want to detract from your day.”

“Hang them. Have I ever cared what people thought? The whole town will be there whether they are invited or not so what better way to show our solidarity.”

Forcing herself to be truthful, she added, “Things between me and Killian are...unsettled. He might be uncomfortable if I show up.”

Looking at her for the first time, his eyes crinkled in a way that was reminiscent of his brother. “No kidding. His moping around the house and general state of sullenness were my first clues. Trust me, he won’t mind.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s smitten with you. Has been since the moment we stepped foot in town,” he said in a voice that made it clear he thought it was obvious. Smiling out at the horizon, he explained, “Killian has taken to you in a way I’ve never seen before. In the interest of fulfilling my role of wing man, I have to confess that he was on me to tell you about the map and treasure from the minute we made it back to the cottage after the accident, long before you had formed an attachment. I’m sure he’ll give you plenty of reasons to be angry with him in the future but place the blame for this one where it belongs. Squarely on me.”

“I think I may have already burned that bridge,” Emma declared, her smile a sad answer to his.

“Good that my little brother is an excellent swimmer then,” Liam countered, standing up and facing her. “Come to the wedding. Then we’ll get back to work.”

—

Emma walked into the loft several hours later discouraged and annoyed. Having spent a good part of the afternoon at the docks, she decided to stop off at the hospital on the way home to check on August. It was there that the full import of her situation hit her. The ICU staff followed her every move, never leaving her alone with her friend as if they were afraid she would rip out his heart with her bare hands as soon as their backs were turned.

So much for innocent until proven guilty.

Mary Margaret’s sunny smile welcomed her as she stepped across the threshold. “Emma, you just missed Killian. He’d been waiting for you for hours.”

“Hmm” was her only reply. As much as she might want to see him, after her chat with Liam she wasn’t sure she was ready to. There were things she needed to settle in her own mind before she interacted with him again. It wasn’t fair to keep jerking him around. She was going to have to pick a path and stick to it. The problem was her mind was set on one direction and her heart was urging her in another.

“Uh oh, I know that look,” Mary Margaret commented. “You’re reverting.”

Amused in spite of the dark turn of her thoughts, Emma asked, “Reverting? What do you mean?”

“You’re pulling on that armor of yours and you’re readying for battle. Am I right?”

“I’m tired. That’s all. The hospital staff clearly believes everything they read,” she explained while moving into the kitchen to get something to drink. “It’s one thing to think someone capable of murder but it’s another to think they would be stupid enough to do it in broad daylight in a well monitored hospital room.”

“Most people are too wrapped up in their own lives to question the things that people present to them as facts,” she observed sagely. “Regardless, I know what you need to get out of this funk.”

“Do you? And what would that be?”

“We’re going out for a girl’s night. I’ll call Elsa and Ruby. We’ll get dressed up and we’ll show the town that they are wrong about you.”

“I’m not sure there is enough makeup in the world to change their opinions now,” Emma joked, not completely averse to proposal. “I’m also not sure I’m ready to see another story in the paper about how I callously partied my way through Storybrooke while August is on his deathbed.”

“It’s Storybrooke, Emma. How much trouble do you think we could get into? I’m not suggesting an orgy. It’s dinner with people who care about you. Maybe a few drinks.”

Nearly spitting out her orange juice when the word orgy slipped from Mary Margaret’s mouth, Emma shook her head in disbelief and teased, “What in the world has David been doing these last couple of days? You know when I met you, I would have sworn that you didn’t know any four-letter words.”

“Well now I know all of them,” she joked back, her cheeks flushing and eyes dancing with the deep emotion that only comes from being in love and being loved thoroughly and repeatedly. “Get changed. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Hours later, Emma had to admit she was glad she didn’t put up too much of a fight. Elsa and Ruby rounded out their merry little band quite nicely, the cool elegance of the former a stark contrast to the vivid earthiness of the latter. Overall they were a nice blend of independent, intelligent women who, for whatever reason, seemed to have her back.

She also appreciated that they were giving the topic of her brief arrest a wide berth. There was no better way to kill a buzz than to give into harsh realities. They kept the conversation light, discussing Elsa’s imminent wedding and Mary Margaret’s newfound saltiness. Ruby sighed and said, “Everyone is pairing up. It’s about to be nothing but babies and boringness. Then Emma will leave and nothing exciting will ever happen again.”

“That’s me, the bringer of excitement,” Emma commented dryly as her phone vibrated. Seeing that Henry was calling, she excused herself and went to stand outside so she could hear him. She watched a steady stream of people make their way into the bar as Henry begged to fly into town for Liam’s wedding. Figuring her son’s well-informed status must have come from the man himself, she laughed at his logical arguments for the last minute trip. Starting with the ability to celebrate the holiday with her and ending with meeting her new friends, he laid out his reasons as if he were forty instead of ten.

She hadn’t realized the individuals she had met since her arrival had trickled into their conversations so much but the casual way he referred to half a dozen people he had never met drove the point home. Tempted as she was to give in to his earnest and well-thought out pleas, she did not think it was a good time for a visit. She needed to clear her name first. Explaining that there would be time to meet everyone later and promising to send pictures of the ceremony, which effectively made the decision for her about attending, she ended the call and leaned back against the outer wall.

She heard gravel crunching under footsteps before she heard his voice. “Fancy meeting you here,” Graham said as he approached her.

“This is where all the cool kids hang out apparently,” she remarked, turning toward him. “How are you doing, Sheriff?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, stopping a couple of feet away and taking up a similar position against the wall. They stood there in silence for several minutes, neither one sure what to say now that they were alone and not interrogating each other. “The forensics came back. The gun was wiped clean. No prints.”

“Dead end then,” she observed, not particularly surprised. If it had been that easy, the guy would have already been caught.

“Not quite. You’d be surprised at the number of criminals who wipe the weapon and completely forget about the bullets. We pulled a partial off one. No hits yet but it definitely doesn’t match Liam’s or yours. They are also analyzing an unusual substance they found on the rags. We may still get lucky.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means you are no longer my prime suspect, Emma,” Graham explained with a small smile. “You can go back to hating me with a clear conscience.”

“I never hated you,” Emma argued, sheepishly looking at him from under her lashes. “I just didn’t trust you.”

Laughing softly, his lilting voice carried to her with a hint of delight. “I do love how direct you are.” Gazing into her eyes searchingly, he asked with a quirked brow, “Why is that? What did I do within minutes of meeting you to put you off me so completely?”

“You lied,” she said simply. Returning his searching glance, she took in his handsome face and lean body. In another time or place, if things had been different, she wondered if there would have been something between them. The odd tension stretched around them, forming a little bubble where the outside world didn’t exist. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she asked, “What were you really doing in the woods the night of our accident?”

“Clever girl,” he complimented her with a wink that showed he was teasing rather than patronizing her. With a shrewd look, he asked her, “Do you trust me now?”

“I think you’ve earned a little faith from me,” she replied, curious about the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Why?”

“It might be better if I show you,” he said mysteriously. A second later, her hand was clasped in his and he was pulling her toward his cruiser. “Let’s go.”

Sending a text to her friends to let them know something had come up and she wouldn’t be rejoining them, she buckled herself into the passenger seat and questioned humorously, “Are you taking me to the wolf’s den?”

“There really have been complaints about wolves,” he defended. “Although they are more likely to be coyotes in this area. But you’re right. I wasn’t being honest because I wasn’t sure what I had found. This town has a violent history and this particular investigation I’ve been keeping under wraps. I haven’t even told Nolan about it.”

“So why me? Why now?”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Graham responded truthfully. “There’s something about you. I’ve always been on your side, you just didn’t want to see it. I have a feeling you’re going to be the one to solve everything.”

“Everything is a tall order,” she groused. “I’d settle for finding who shot August.”

They fell into silence as the buildings gave way to trees. In no time, they were approaching the to town line. They emerged from the cruiser at nearly the exact point Liam’s SUV had left the road. With a dubious look at her sandals, he said, “You going to be okay for a walk?”

Mimicking his doubtful glance, she countered, “Are you offering to carry me the whole time?” Before he could say anything, she stepped off the pavement and ordered, “Lead the way.”

Even with the high-powered police flashlights, it was slow going in the inky darkness of the night with the overgrown forest floor threatening to trip them with every footfall. They had probably been hiking arm-in-arm for about thirty minutes, Emma having given up the pretense of making it on her own shortly after they started. “Are you taking me to our crash site?”

“I’m taking you to a crash site,” he corrected. Huffing a bit and wishing she had gone with jeans rather than a dress, she nodded. Then, there was a break in the trees and she could barely make out the charred remains of a sedan.

Pulling away, she carefully circled the burned out car. The light bounced eerily off the blackened metal and with only a slight hesitation, she flooded the front seat with the beam. Letting go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she was relieved that it was empty. She really hadn’t been looking forward to finding any more skeletons in Storybrooke. “Who do you think it belonged to?”

“I don’t have to think, I know,” he assured her. “The car was registered to the city. It was reported stolen about twenty-eight years ago.”

“Someone stole city property, took it for a joyride, crashed it, and burned the car to hide the evidence?”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s something you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”

“You do have a knack for ferreting out the truth, Emma,” he respectfully observed. “It would be nice to have you around to help out the department from time to time.”

“Don’t get attached,” she warned seriously. “I’m merely passing through. What else have you found?”

“Follow me,” he directed, taking her arm lightly in his grasp to steady her as they moved deeper into the woods. Less than a quarter mile away from the car, they came upon an abandoned cabin. Flashing her light through the grimy windows, she detected no sign of movement.

Graham entered the one room cabin first and flicked on the light switch. A couple of the bulbs were still working and a dingy, yellow glow filled the room. It was then that she saw the blood stains on the small bed pushed against one wall. Her flashlight continued to trail around the room, illuminating several more bloody rags strewn on the floor. “What the hell happened here?”

“I can’t be sure,” he answered, steadying her again as her knees buckled a little at the overwhelming sight. “If it’s too much, we can go outside. You’ve seen everything there is to see now.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she told him, taking slow breaths in through her nose. “What do you think happened?”

“I think someone had a baby.” He watched her reaction as if concerned she might pass out. Honestly, his fears weren’t totally unfounded. “I’ll spare you from reviewing the evidence that led me to that conclusion since you’re white as a sheet and look like you could double over at any moment.”

“Why haven’t you processed the scene?”

“I’m waiting for the state lab to come. Emma, something happened in Storybrooke decades ago, something that is having a ripple effect to this day. I don’t trust that we’ll find answers locally. I’ve been doing what I can to comb through records regarding pregnancies around that time but it’s slow going with the privacy laws and the fact that I doubt there was a birth announcement for this particular baby.”

“I think I can help you there.” Exhaling shakily, she hurried outside. She heard him come up behind her and didn’t resist when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if to funnel some of his strength to her. “I’m positive that Eva Blanchard had her baby in that cabin, Graham. I’m also sure that if we continue searching, we’ll find her and Leo’s body somewhere around here. Maybe the baby’s as well.”

Feeling sick, she didn’t protest as he pulled her closer and began the trek out of this grisly corner of the forest. He didn’t question how she knew the things she knew and didn’t pressure her to talk, merely nodding at her in thanks when he dropped her off outside the loft.

That night, her dreams were anything but peaceful.

[julessworldd]

I love them Poly!Guns x reader

I seen where someone wanted more Poly!Guns, so you asked so you shall recieve. Who doesn’t love Poly!guns anyways.

Summary: The reader’s mom and sister show up unannounced, planning on taking the reader back home. Tabloids showed up her in her hometown, the family was worried about her in LA. I always wondered how Poly realtionships work when telling the parents, so here’s my take on it. 

Warnings: The boys being protective, silly with the reader. Cussing, arguing, implied smut. Think that’s all, sorry if I missed any

I moved to L.A. the day after graduation from high school, and had been saving money since I was 13. Living in a small town Colorado, where you’ve gone to school with the same kids since Elementary school, becoming a townie scared me. Since then, I’ve not talked to my family that much.  I met the boys one night after a show, Izzy bumped into me while walking down the strip. We all became friends and then our little thing started, we dated each other. It had been a thing for two almost three years now, I loved every minute of it, and loved my boys as well. 

Duff and I were making breakfast as slowly each boy came down, pissed that they had to start their day. “Did you open that one envelope? Looked like it was from home”, Duff asked. “I’m not sure how they found me. I’ve not gave them my new address”, I laid eggs on a plate. “Why don’t you talk to them anymore?”, Duff asked again. “Just don’t. I’m the black sheep of the family, babe. I never wanted to stay in Colorado,work on the family ranch or get pregnant with a shitty high school football player. They didn’t like it so I left after graduating.”, I said. “I’m glad you left”, Izzy passed by us. “I’m not saying I’m not glad she left, but it’s weird that the envelope has stayed on the counter, unopened”, Duff said. “Fine, I’ll open it after I eat and shower”, I groaned. I know Duff was only being nice, but I didn’t like hearing from my family.  There was knock on the door, “Come in”, I said, sliding into some black skinny jeans. “Hey”, Duff said, shutting the door behind him. “You’re really determined to have me open that aren’t you, baby”, I smirked. “Yes. It could be a death in the family and you wouldn't know it”, Duff stubbed up.  “Alright”, I slides my finger under the seal and opened the envelope. 

 Jacqueline Bennett

It was my mom’s name and my childhood home’s address. “What the hell do you want?”, I groaned.  The doorbell rung, “You expecting anyone?”, I asked Duff. He shook his head no. “Y/nn!”, Slash yelled. I dropped the letter on the dresser and headed downstairs. “Think it’s you with the visitor babe”, Duff said, following suit. “Who knows”, I said. I made it downstairs, in the living. I looked up, it was my mom and older sister, Kelly standing in front of the door. “Mom. Kelly. What are you doing here?”, I swallowed. “We came to bring you home”, My mom said. “No, you’re not. I have a life here and did you forget I’m 24”, I said, crossing my arms across my chest. 

The boys stayed silent, watching me and my mom go back and forth. Kelly was checking Izzy out. “I left for fucking reason and swore I would never move back. Leave mother!”, I ran upstairs, slamming my door. 

Izzy’s pov-

 Y/n’s mom and sister stood there in shock, tension was tight. I stood up from the couch, “I’ll go check on her” I reached her door, heard crying. “Y/n. It’s me, Iz”, I said. A little ‘come in’ was said, she was crying her eyes out before I walked in. “Hey baby. Wanna talk about it?”, I said, shutting the door, her back was turned to me. Y/n jerked up, “Why does she think I need to come back home? It’s hell there, Izzy. I’m overlooked there, they forget my name, if I’m sick or not. My siblings have families and have good careers, I have five siblings, I’m just the second middle kid. Please don’t let her take me back”, She cried. “We’re not gonna let her. You’re 24, you have your own life. Screw what your siblings have, you have us, friends, free travel when we’re on tour. They’re stuck in some hick town while you get to see the world, don’t worry about them. I’m not being mean, but they really don’t care. Just worried that you’re with five guys instead of one. It’s not their business how many people you date or have kids with, you’re an adult”, I said. Here lately every magazine has been exposing our relationship with each other. Y/n has been called a groupie, whore that can’t be satisfied by one guy. Guess it made it to Colorado.

Y/n calmed down and was sitting on my lap, brading a strand of my hair. “Think I’m gonna take them on the patio, I hate that you guys were stuck between it.”, Y/n said. “Okay, I’ll have Duff take them out. Give you a little more time”, I said, walking to the door. “Thanks. Hey Izzy?”, Y/n asked. “Yeah?”, I turned back at her. “I love you”, She smiled. “I love you too, princess”, I smirked. “Hey Duff”, I said, locking eyes with the tall blonde. “She okay?”, Duff started to worry. “Y/n asked if we could take her mom and sister to the patio. She wants to talk to them in private. Can you take them out there please?”, I asked. “Of course”, Duff said. I watched as Duff brought them through the kitchen and out to the patio. Y/n’s mom gave me the stank eye.  “Izzy, are they out there?”, Y/n asked. “Yeah. You gonna be okay?”, Duff answered. “I think so. I love you, Duffy”, She kissed his cheek. “I love you too, Princess”, Duff kissed her lips. We both watched her go out there. “We’re not letting them take her back”, Duff said. “Oh hell no!” Axl and I said at the same time. “She won’t go down without a fight”, Slash said. “Okay, lets quit being peeping toms”, Duff said. We all went downstairs.  

Y/n’s Pov

“Okay tell me how wrong I am being with them?, I sat down at the table. “Why are you with them? Do they pay you?”, My mom asked. “Because I love them very much, I feel safe and loved by my boys. No, I don’t get paid to have sex or whatever crazy ass thing you’re thinking”, I giggled. “Are you together or it’s a groupie thing?”, Kelly asked. “What’s a groupie?”, my mom asked. “Someone who has sex with a couple members of a band or the whole band. No strings attached, some have girlfriends or are even married. But when on the road, they get lonely and their girl isn’t there to you know?”, I said. “And Kelly, we’re together”, I said. “Okay, huh. What made you get into a relationship with them?”, Mom asked. “I don’t know, it just kinda happened. Nobody hasn’t spoken up and said they wanted out and to be with another person.”, I said, looking at her face. Confusion and disgust was all over her face. Kelly was from my time, understood what groupies were and sure she’s married but she was passed around the offensive line and the quarterback in high school. 

“What it is called? When you go out with multiple people, honey?”, My mom asked. “Polyamorous”, I sighed. “Poly what?” “Poly means multiple”, Kelly said.  “Right. Mom, I know this isn’t something you wanted to hear that your daughter is in love with five guys. I didn’t think I would either but life put it that way. I’m happy with them, they all make me smile in their own way. I get something different from each other. You don’t have to worry, this might to be anything any longer, but let me enjoy it while it’s still a thing”, I said holding her hand. “Guess, we didn’t see that way. You do glow more, I’m sorry for never realizing how unhappy you were back home. I love you so much, Y/n. Please keep in contact with us okay?”She smiled. “Okay, you two want to stay for lunch?”, I asked. “No, thank you sweetie. We’ve been here a week trying to find you. Our plane leaves in a few hours”, My mom stood up. “Sorry, you didn’t find me sooner”, I sighed. 

“Can you at least meet them? I’ve met half of their parents”, I smiled. “After our tiny argument?”, Mom asked. “They don’t care, come on”, I giggled. They were just spooked that their girlfriend was yelling at a random lady in the living room. I would be too, if their mom came in guns blazing.

“Boys. I want you to meet my mom, Jacqueline and my sister, Kelly. Sorry about earlier”, I said. They were at the table, Duff was digging something out of the fridge.  “This is Izzy, Slash, Axl, Steven, and who is gonna hit his head is Duff”, I pointed at each of them. “I am not! Son of a-”, Duff groaned, after hitting his head on the edge of the counter. Kelly giggled. “You didn’t bust it open this time, bonehead”, I rubbed his head, for any nics or blood. “I hated having staples in my head”, Duff raised up, rubbing his head. “I know you did, I hated them too”, I giggled. Duff had pulled me into his side and brushed a piece of hair out of my face. I caught my mom smiling at us. “Honey, I hate to leave but we have a plane to catch”, My mom said, tearing Duff and I apart. “Right. I’ll walk you out”, I said. “Axl, what are you doing?”, I asked as the red head followed us. “I have to get something out of my car, babe”, Axl smiled, grabbing my hips. “Not now”, I whispered, feeling his bulge poke my ass. “Not my fault you and your sister have ass”, Axl smirked, passing me to go to his car. “I’ll kill you”, I mouthed as I approached their rental car.  “It was nice seeing you, sis”, Kelly smiled. “You too. How are the kids?”, I asked. “Good, growing like a weed. Conor almost passes me”, Kelly said. “Wow, that means he towers me”, I giggled, thinking of my nephew. Kelly was 5’8, means Conor is at least 5’10, and I’m still 5’3. “Yeah. Annie starts 3rd grade next year, they miss their Auntie Y/n a lot”, Kelly gave a small smile. “Next time, if we’re close to home I’ll see what I can do to come see everyone. Tell everyone I love them.”, I said, pulling Kelly into a hug. “I love you, Kelly”, I whispered.  “Love you too, kid”, She tightened the hug. “Okay, my turn”, My mom whined.  “You’ve changed into a beautiful woman, Y/n. Your Dad would be so proud of how you’ve grown, he misses his buttercup a lot. Call him when you can, okay?”, My mom said. “I will, Momma. I love you and Dad”, I smiled. 

I watched them as they drove down to the neighbor, going to the airport. “You okay, Y/n?”, Steven asked. “Mhm, oh yeah. I’m good, Stevie”, I smiled. I walked over to Steven and smiled. “You forgot something?”, Steven smirked. “My good morning kiss”, Steven pouted. “Nobody got theirs, Stevie”,I giggled, leaning up to kiss his lips. Steven opened the door, there stood Izzy with his arms crossed,pout on his face. I pulled him down to kiss him, “There you, big baby. That better?” “Very much so”, Izzy grinned. I laughed, walking upstairs. Slash pulled me to his lips, “You’re off your routine girl” “Sorry Slashy”, I rubbed his cheek.  “Are you still gonna kill me?”, Axl asked, smirking. “No”, I kissed him. “Good girl”, Axl smirked, smacking my ass. Duff’s back was turned, I wrapped my arms from behind. “Hey Baby”, He said. “Hi. You wanna a kiss?”, I asked. “Mhm, I’ll take a makeout session instead”, I knew he was smirking.  “Put me on the counter and I’ll deliver”, I smirked as he picked me up. I kissed him. “Hey Y/n, is it weird I find your mom sorta hot?”, Axl yelled from upstairs. “Very! She’s bitcher than I am”, I yelled back, rolling my eyes. “I like your bitchyness, it’s hot”, Duff pulled me into  him more. “You’re fucking crazy”, I said. “That song is about you, you know?”, Izzy smirked. “Fuck you, Izzy”, I flipped him off before hopping down from Duff’s arms. “You did last night, hot lips”, Izzy said as he disappeared upstairs. 

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

5 Reasons Why It’s Good To Be Merc

1.

Professor Oobleck: [To the class] --anybody? Perhaps you, miss Fall?

Cinder: [On scroll, panics] I uh--

Mercury: Sorry teach--

Professor Oobleck: [Loudly] Doctor!

Mercury: [Ignoring him] --but Cindy’s too busy sexting her boyfriend.

Cinder proceeded to furiously kick her asshole of a subordinate in the shin.

Professor Oobleck: *Grimaces* Perhaps, miss Fall, you can engage in...that sometime more appropriate.

Cinder: [Clutching throbbing toes] Of course Doctor Oobleck, I have no idea what I was thinking. [Glares at Mercury]

Mercury smiled. He’d get it later, but the hissing voice of Cinder as well as the slight tears in the corner of her eyes was worth it.

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

2.

Emerald ran from the room in the warehouse, cackling the entire way with his legs in her hands. Sitting at a chair, stumps hanging off, Mercury felt his blood boil - before he took a breath and calmed down. He knew this was in revenge for Cinder nearly breaking her toes, her foot against his cybernetic prosthetic.

He also didn’t care. Focusing, he felt a faint glimmer of his aura getting further away from him and he sent a series of pulses that had one purpose. To remotely flip one of his legs.

Emerald: [Distantly] Ogg fugg, my fuggah teef! [Moaning in pain]

Having effectively kicked the thief’s teeth out, Mercury smiled. Best anti theft measures, ever.

------------- 

3.

Mercury: Kiiiii-fucking-yah!

And like that, the third year Huntsman went down like a sack of bricks. It was expected - the moron had activated his semblance, Yo-Yo, and used a powerful telekinetic pull to yank Mercury towards him. But he wasn’t anything in comparison to his shitbird of an old man.

So delivering a flying sidekick right out of an action movie was all too sweet and all too easy. Also cathartic because the moron had been going on about how lame his boots were and (the real reason he kicked the moron in the skull while going at least 30MPH) ridiculing him for not using his semblance.

Vytal Festival Crowd: *Raucous cheering*

The adulation of the masses was pretty nice too. As he walked back to the waiting room, he grinned. All he had to do now was wait for blondie to make it to the finals, put up a good act and then he can test himself against some real opponents.

They might just be Atlas grunts, but they weren’t the premiere military organization on Remnant for no reason.

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

4.

Mercury grunted, the new additions to his legs making walking awkward. Sure it was just a few pistons as well as a miniature dust engine, but after years of getting used to his leg shaped prosthetics it was a bit awkward with these new clunkier ones.

He stumbled into Emerald, who immediately sneered at him before her brow furrowed.

Mercury: ‘Sup, Em?

Emerald: [Eyes flick towards him] Nothing. Cinder said her scar feels “hot” again, so I’m bringing her a cool towel. *Eyes narrow* What the hell are you doing here? You said the dungeons were creepy.

Mercury just shrugged, watching her carefully. He opened his mouth to speak and saw her staring at the bulky lower half of his legs.

Emerald: And what the hell is that!? [Eyes flick from Mercury, to the dungeon, to the entrance of the hallway that led out of Evernight Castle] Wait a minu--

Mercury didn’t hesitate. Pistons pumped, his dust engine whirred to life with a sound like miniature tornado and with a shift of the leg, a single dust round shot from his ankle and his leg kicked upwards blindingly fast.

Right between Emerald’s legs. The girl was lifted off her feet for a brief few seconds and her formerly narrowed eyes were bulging out of her skull. Then Mercury was putting his modded legs to good use and charging from Salem’s castle, leaving Emerald behind making sounds somewhere between a dying animal and a deflated balloon.

Sure he had to worry about Salem coming to kill him for effectively quitting the game, but if there was one thing his father literally beat into his skull it was that there wasn’t much point in following someone for the sake of an ideal.

Because there was nothing better than cold, hard cash.

And if the freaky Grimm bitch was out to destroy the world, how the hell was he gonna spend all that cash? It ate at him to even remotely agree with his old man, but he had a point.

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

5.

Mercury: You know, if someone ever told me I’d be retiring to a beach with a hot midget I probably would’ve laughed. [Pauses] Then I probably would’ve caved their skull in with a good snap kick, but that’s beside the point! Cheers, tiny! *Slurps obnoxiously on a cocktail*

Neo lay next to him in a beach chair, a pink and brown bikini done in her colors but with a pink cup beneath her brown hair on the left side with a brown cup beneath her pink hair on the right side, with the bikini bottoms alternating the colors again.

Her hands also clenched the armrests mutinously. When she screwed Cinder over and shoved Hush through her belly, she figured her best bet was to go to sea. Find an island. Except she found the Maiden’s old assassin that Salem and her people occasionally tried finding (but to little success, Black keeping on the move) and he’d been the one to charter the boat. He’d been the one to find the tropical paradise they’d been living on the last few years.

It had mostly been a pragmatic choice - neither of them really enjoyed tanning, anything to do with the water and they only truly enjoyed the weather itself. There was a small town a couple miles through the palm trees with a little over a thousand in population who didn’t care who they were as long as they were willing to kill the occasional Grimm.

And so life had gone on. Then those assholes who’d killed Roman did the same to Salem. Word had gotten out. The witch was obliterated by some “heeeyuuuw-mongus purple and gold laser beam!”, that probably meant they didn’t need to worry about the Gods anymore either and the only way Salem would die is if the fire bitch was a corpse first.

So they’d celebrated. Once. Then never again because for the diminutive ice cream themed girl, once was more than enough with a dick weasel like Mercury Black. Seriously, 2 years on this island and he still was calling her a midget! He slurped his drinks! Even though he knew sex was permanently off the menu, he had no problem checking her out or any sense of privacy!

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, shortie.”

He even had eaten her damn ice cream and shrugged, like she wasn’t about to push her fucking spoon through his throat and scoop out his jugular! He was insufferable and he often smelt of motor oil and Hatchet Body Spray!

Mercury: *Sighs happily* Yup. Life is good. *Burps loudly*

Screaming silently, Neo shoved off towards their shared house while kicking up sand the entire way and wondering if those best-friend-murdering-cunt-nuggets would actually believe she would reform herself because she had an obnoxious roommate.

Maybe the cute, doofy looking blond boy would. Huh. Now she had an in - the doofus hadn’t really done anything to earn her ire. Yeah. She’d go to him, make friendly and their friendship would be what would convince his other friends, the titty monster and friend killer especially, that she really did want to be a good guy.

Meanwhile Mercury lowered his shades, checked out the perky booty and shrugged.

Mercury: [Steals her drink] And now she’s wasting good liquor. Eh. More for me! *Slurps*

He grinned as a local girl on a surf board bent to keep her balance, her significantly larger, tanner ass not being contained by her white bikini.

Mercury: *Enjoys life*

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

I’ve never quite understood why the assassin of all people didn’t just up and leave Salem at some point. I have to assume Cinder was paying him to begin with and then the fear of death might have kept him there but are you really gonna tell me this man didn’t think it’d be possible to just run from Salem at some point? Disappear into the background? Come on.

Sure he wouldn’t have disappeared to an island or anything, but crack is what I do apparently.

So yeah, that’s it for RWBY for today and probably until I have an idea again. I actually had these after answering Fish’s ask yesterday and decided to get them down since they’re basically the only ideas I’ve had for my Tumblr.

Hopefully people like these. :D

[breanime]

Obey

I couldn’t help myself. I was gonna make this sexy, but then I ran out of steam. Lol, sorry

Part Two (steamy)

You were awoken by the slamming of a door. You sat up, rubbing your eyes. You heard voices downstairs, and you knew Miguel was home—and from the sound of his voice and the door slamming, you assumed he wasn’t in the best mood.

You laid back down, sighing. If he was in a mood, he would go straight to his office and stay there until the sun came up. And maybe even after that, depending on how bad his day had been… You didn’t really mind; you had spent your day shopping and wandering around town, and you were tired now. You had even had a nice dinner with the Reyes family at Felipe’s shop—after ditching your bodyguards for a few hours—and had a nice evening. Normally, you wouldn’t have been that rash, but you’d been bored out of your mind for the last few weeks; work had become predictable, Miguel was always gone, and you were getting sick and tired of bodyguards and curfews and lonely beds, so you took a risk. No harm, no foul. You closed your eyes, pulling your blanket up to your chin, knowing you’d be having another night of tossing and turning without Miguel at your side.

Then you heard his voice.

“What the fuck am I paying you for?!”

You sat up again, eyes wide. Miguel never raised his voice at home, and if he did, it was only when he was on the phone with one of his men. Breath held, you crept to your bedroom door and opened it a crack and listened.

“It won’t happen again, Mr. Galindo,” you heard your driver—Ramon—say. You pictured him wringing his hands, a habit of his when he was nervous. “It was completely my fault.”

“No,” Miguel said back, his voice low and angry, “It was all of your fault. She was gone for three and a half hours,” he said, “before you found her—no, before Nestor found her.”

Your eyes widened. You had no idea Nestor had followed you. He was supposed to be with Miguel on the other side—and then it occurred to you: they’d come home early and somehow Miguel found out you weren’t where you’d told him you would be… and he was pissed.

“You’re damn right this will never happen again,” Miguel said, and you realized his voice sounded closer… he was coming up the stairs. “Because if it does, at least one of your useless asses will be in my church pew.”

You scurried to the bed like a naughty child up past her bedtime, pulling the blanket around your shoulders and pretending to be asleep. You heard the door open, recognizing the sound of Miguel’s sure steps as he approached the bed. You listened as he took his shoes off, and you heard him unhook his belt and place it neatly on the hook on the back of the closet door. You waited to hear him undress, anticipating the sound of cloth hitting the floor, but you didn’t. Instead, you felt the bed dip, and you felt his hand on your cheek, then on your chin, then…

…on your neck.

“Wake up,” he ordered, his voice was tight, the anger barely constrained.

You turned, eyes wide. Miguel was glaring down at you. His button-up shirt was ruffled from where he probably ripped his tie off, and his dark eyes glittered in the low light. “Miguel,” you greeted him, already breathless.

“Sit up.”

You sat up, heart pounding with excitement. You and Miguel had argued before, of course, but you’d never defied him before, and you knew he wouldn’t approve of what you did today… though you hadn’t really planned on him finding out.

“Tell me what you did today.”

“I had dinner with Felipe,” you answered, knowing there was no use in lying.

“And who else?”

“Angel and EZ were there, too. And so was Bishop.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” he said, waving his hand in the air, “Do you know what could have happened when you ran off? The danger you put yourself in?”

“I was with Angel and EZ,” you repeated, “my friends, I was perfectly safe—”

Miguel’s hand shot out and wrapped around your throat again, pushing you down onto the mattress. His grip was tight enough to feel, but not enough to hurt you. “—You were safe with your guards,” he argued, his voice calm but his eyes enraged, “You’re safe with me. Do you know what I thought when I was told no one knew where you were?”

“I was safe,” you argued, feeling a tension build between your legs, “EZ and Angel—”

“—don’t say their names.”

“Miguel, I—”

“—Shut up,” his hand flexed on your throat, and you gasped at the feeling, your heart pounding, “Shut the fuck up and listen.”

You shut the fuck up and listened.

“You are my wife,” he said, hand still on your throat, “and I ask you to do one thing: obey. And you couldn’t even do that.” He hovered over you, his body on top of yours, his knees separating yours. “I shouldn’t have to rush home because my wife is out with the fucking MC.”

“Well you weren’t around,” you said back, glaring up at him, “so I had to find some other way to entertain myself.”

You watched Miguel’s eyes widen before he sat up, releasing your throat. “Is that… Is that what you were doing, mi amor? ‘Entertaining’ yourself?” His lip curled in a sneer. “For three and a half hours with the Reyes men?”

You sat up as well, pushing his chest. “You know that’s not what I was doing.”

“Oh?” He asked, taking your hand in his. “Do I?” He stood up, standing over the bed now, and you stared up at him. “Here’s what I know: I know that my wife snuck away from the protection I set up for her to have a secret meeting with men who smuggle drugs—”

“—your drugs,” you reminded him.

“—into Mexico for a living,” he finished, “and I know that you weren’t going to tell me about your little rendezvous, were you?”

“I…” You licked our lips. “I don’t…”

“You know this makes it hard for me to trust you, don’t you?” Miguel asked, his voice suddenly very calm.

“Nothing happened, Miguel,” you told him, “I just wanted to be around people who talk to me like a person, I wanted to just… not be alone for a while.”

Miguel sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “I know,” he said, “I know I’ve been gone a lot and working long hours, and… I get it. But you can’t just run off like that, mi reina, you know better.”

“I know,” you said, crawling over to the edge of the bed and looking up at him through your lashes as you sat on your hands and knees, “I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s fingers twitched on his hips, aching to touch you. “I don’t mind you spending time with your friends,” he said carefully, “even if your friends are… not my favorite people. But I need you to be safe, and I can’t keep you safe if you run from your protection.”

“I know,” you said again, sighing, “I’m sorry.” You reached up and ran your hand on his thigh, feeling the smooth material of his pants beneath your fingers. “How can I make it up to you?”

He smirked, and you felt yourself shiver. “Hm…” He ran a finger against your cheek. “…I think I’ve got a few ideas…”

“And what can I do,” you went on, sitting up and putting your hands on his shoulders, “to get you to go easy on Ramon and the others?”

“Oh,” he said, hands moving to grip your hips, “that’s gonna take a lot of you on your knees,” he kissed your nose, “and probably a few bruises as well, mi amor.”

You nodded, trying to keep the excited grin off of your face—and failing. “And some begging?” You asked.

“Oh, definitely some begging,” Miguel grinned, pushing you onto your back and pressing himself on top of you, “I’m going to teach you how to obey, my love.”

He kissed you then, and you knew that you were going to have a long, delicious night.

The next morning, when you woke up in his arms with a sweet, sweet soreness in your core, you knew that you still had a lot to make up for with Miguel, but you also knew that he was taking the day off to be with you, and he wouldn’t let you out of his sight the entire time. You made an effort to be more obedient with Miguel as the days went on—you understood his fear and need for control, and you really didn’t mind it. But when he was in and out of the house, working nonstop with barely enough time to give you a quick kiss as he went out the door, well…

…you sometimes had to nudge him in the right direction (read: between your thighs) by being just a teeny tiny bit disobedient…

…it always paid off.

*******************************************************************************************

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Nick Amaro/Miguel Galindo Taglist: @glimmerglittergirl @cococruz-mayansmc  

[spookyscientistskeleton-moved]

Flashback

Send me “Flashback” for a vignette about my muse’s past || Accepting! (but slow going in writing them lol)

CONTENT WARNING: Wartime cruelty, starvation, and some discussion of suicide for good measure. 

They’d marched through at dawn. 

No one was left to fight them. No one was there to stop them. 

When Ferno thought back to the stories they grew up learning as children about the earliest wars among monsterkind, before they’d united under the banner of one king, he remembered hearing about last-minute turnarounds and climactic battles. He realized now that all of that had probably been for dramatic effect; the storytellers’ way of keeping him and the other stupid flamelings’ attention when all they wanted to do was run around tussling in the dirt and  setting fire to shrubs. There had been no gallant heroes rallying the troops with moving speeches, no daring maneuvers. This hadn’t… been like that. It hadn’t been like that at all. 

More of their time had been spent just… waiting.

They’d timed their attack for the dead of winter, when reinforcements would be harder to come by and the effects of starvation would be more pronounced. He still remembered the day they’d burned the storehouse. It’d been a small affair, just him and a couple other boys from the village. They’d razed the place to the ground, so quick that the humans hadn’t been able to mobilize in time to catch them or stop them. He remembered making it back over the hill. He remembered looking back, seeing the plumes of smoke stretching into the pitch black sky. 

From there, the plan had been simple. Surround the encampment, watch for and deal with anyone delivering supplies. If there were fights--and there were, here and there--focus on destroying any caravans containing food above all else. Leave them nothing. Leave them nothing and wait.

It had taken right around three months. 

A missive had been delivered to them last night. Ferno was surprised the messenger had made it to their camp at all--he was all but falling off his horse, skin stretched taut over his skin. An older guy, someone his commanders had probably deemed to be ‘expendable.’ The note declared the troop’s unconditional surrender, in exchange for one request: that a path be left clear for the civilians living at the camp to leave. Ferno’s commander had gotten a laugh out of that one, but he’d issued the order all the same. They’d break the defensive line along the northern road, and allow one caravan to pass through that night. 

Any soldiers with the caravan would be slaughtered on sight. Then they’d march into town the next morning, finish off whoever was left, and burn the place to the ground. 

They’d slit the old man’s throat and chucked him in the river. 

Ferno couldn’t bring himself to feel much pity for the poor fucks as they made their way into town. They were the ones who started this war, after all. This wasn’t anything more cruel than what their kind had been put through, over and over and over again. But it was… sobering, the quiet in this place. The heavy stench of death and decay. Most of the soldiers had already offed themselves in the night, preferring to go out on their own terms, and Ferno figured he could respect that. There were a handful of others here and there, weakened and emaciated, hiding like cowards, or trying to fight back. They’d made short work of all of them. It hadn’t even really been a fight. 

“Spread out,” the commander ordered, his voice echoing in the stillness. “Might as well see if there’s anything worth taking. Lieutenant Colonel--” Ferno stood up a bit straighter, “--when I give the order, you and the rest of your boys start burning. I don’t want a single goddamn brick of this place left when we’re done here, understood?” 

Ferno’s formed a wide, crooked grin, arm raised in a mock salute. ‘Yeah, you got it, boss.’ His commander scowled. Ferno had never liked that prick. He turned to address his own men, waving them off. ‘Go on, get moving! When it’s time, rendezvous here--we’ll start in the middle and work our way out.’ His remaining subordinates--a crew of Elementals that had dwindled down to just five--saluted him, before making their way to other parts of the town. Ferno got walking too, starting down one of the nearby alleyways. He didn’t expect that this wouldn’t take long. Wasn’t exactly like they’d have much supplies to go around--that had kind of been the point of this mission--and whatever was left probably wasn’t usable by monsters either. 

Still, orders were orders. And if anything, they could probably do something with the remaining weapons around. Their magic couldn’t measure up to that of humans, but guns and swords? Those still cut ‘em down easy as you please. 

Speaking of…

‘Hel-lo there, buddy,’ Ferno drawled, crouching down by a uniformed corpse against the wall. ‘Lookin’ a little stiff there, ain’tcha?’ He’d probably taken himself out late last night. The gun was still in his hand, streaks of dried blood clinging to his matted hair and painting a gory stripe down the side of his face. Ferno reached down, carefully trying to loosen the guy’s grip around the butt of the weapon. They were still holding on tight, clutching in a death (ha) grip. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, easing a bit of fire magic into the joints to loosen them a little. ‘Come on now, buttercup, time to give up the ghost. I ain’t got all day.’ 

Finally, his fingers relaxed, and Ferno slipped the weapon from his grip. He sighed, sitting back on his heels. ‘There. Now was that so--’

He turned to get up, and found himself staring directly into the face of a small human child. 

Ferno started, dropping right back onto his ass. ‘What the FUCK--’ 

He covered his mouth. The child, a bit glassy-eyed and disoriented, didn’t seem too frightened, or perhaps was just too out of it with hunger and dehydration to really care. She blinked at him, then sat down next to him on the ground, rubbing lightly at her arms. Of course. She was cold, dressed in worn shoes and a ratty little dress, and he was… well. Kind of a living hearth.

Footsteps approached, and Ferno blinked, gaze shooting back up to the front of the alley. “Hey!” A voice called. “Everything good over there?” He glanced back down at the human child. She looked back. 

He grabbed her by the arm, and shoved her behind the corpse. She didn’t fight him. He brought a finger to his mouth, hissing out a ‘shhh.’ 

Pushing himself upright, he turned to face the monster who’d approached. ‘Yeah, we’re good. Just, uh, tripped over this poor fuck, gave me a bit of a start. I’m alright.’ 

“Really?” Snort. “Ain’t like you to be so jumpy.”

‘Yeah, yeah, fuck off.’ He waved him off dismissively, turning his back. ‘Just get back to work already.’ 

He waited until he heard footsteps fading. Then finally, he sighed, looking back down at the kid.

‘What the fuck are you still doing here?’ he snarled. She stared back, blinking heavily. She shivered again, and stood up shakily, moving towards him. Ferno sighed, but didn’t stop her. ‘There was a caravan that left last night, why the hell weren’t you with them? This place is gonna be ashes by noon, kid, you gotta--stop that.’ He jerked his arm away. She was still holding out her tiny hand, looking up at him with a confused frown. ‘You got a… fuck, I dunno, a mommy? A daddy? Somebody?’ 

“My mama got sick,” she said simply, before glancing down at the body on the ground. “And… my daddy…” 

Ferno followed her gaze. The flames of his face faded briefly to a pale purple. 

‘... Come on.’ He took her by the wrist, and started to walk. She followed behind clumsily, trying to keep up with his stride, though she barely had the strength to keep walking. She tripped once, near the end of the alley, and it was only Ferno’s grip that kept her from scraping up her little knees on the cobblestones. He sighed, bending down and scooping her up into his arms. 

He ducked and weaved back through the town, holding the kid close against his chest. Passing through alleys and abandoned houses, hopping over backyard fences and behind empty barns.

All the while, the girl barely moved. 

When he reached the outskirts of the town, he set the kid down gently, and pointed off to the east. ‘You see that path down the way there?’ 

The girl nodded.

‘Don’t follow it. Stick to the trees and stay outta sight. There should be a town a couple miles down the road. Your people oughta be able to help you.’ He reached into his pocket, taking out a small bag. Rations for the road--magic food, but something she could probably still eat. He placed it in her hand as he got to his feet. ‘Don’t stop walking until you’re there, alright? You understand?’

She nodded again, her gaze fixed on the bag in her hands. 

“Uh huh.”

‘Good. Now fucking go.’

She took a few tentative steps towards the forest, before glancing back at him over her shoulder.

“Thank y--”

‘--Don’t.’ He turned, and started back towards town. 

He glanced back, after twenty paces or so. 

She was already gone. 

The rest of the day went easily enough. Every now and again a sudden discharge of magic would sound from somewhere else in the town--a sign that some other ill-fated survivor had been found and snuffed out. Mercy killings at this point, frankly. Ferno wondered how it felt for them, dying this way. Dying in the same kind of hopeless misery they’d subjected their people to since this war began, that they’d continue to subject them to even after this. 

Victories were few and far between in any war, but especially for them, especially for this war. 

He figured they should probably enjoy it while they had it. Some of them did. Hours later, as the town burned, some of them cheered and laughed and celebrated. They drank to their dead and cursed their killers, spitting on the charred corpses that remained. 

One good day, for them. One good day in a countless barrage of other terrible days, watching their world come apart at the seams, watching their numbers dwindle week after week. 

One good day. And this was what that looked like. 

He watched the flames, and he didn’t feel anything at all. 

[dunadaze]

dandelions

There were dandelions growing in cracks between the pavement, a bird had made its nest a tree overhead, something shook leaves from a bush nearby, and colorful flowers bloomed everywhere. Spring had ushered forth a salvation for all things, a time of life in contrast with the past winter months.

Giyuu Tomioka stood in front of a grave.

There were bees that buzzed lazily from flower to flower, the murmur of passing cars, a bundle of purple hyacinths in his hands, and sunshine warmed the skin of his bare neck. All around the man stood the vibrancy of life, yet he was at a place of eternal resting.

All of this life, yet Giyuu faced the last remembrance of death.

The earth embraced Giyuu as the man lowered himself to the ground, the stone walkway bit through his clothes, the grass and moss tickled his exposed skin. A bell rang in the distance, whether it was the town bell striking the hour or another person in the cemetery, he did not know. He was restless, pulled grass out in clumps and rocked back and forth on his knees. The grave leered up at him, the cold gray unforgiving as Giyuu locked eyes with the name carved into it.

Sabito

The other half of the name had faded over the years, lost to anyone but the ones who knew the deceased boy. Giyuu let the bundle of hyacinths fall to the space in front of the tombstone. Purple, the plants meant a deep sorrow and forgive me. Sorrow, for Giyuu had lost the person who understood him the most in the world. Forgive me, because Giyuu had been the reason Sabito’s life was cut at the stem so early.

He’d never forget the day it happened. He had told the therapist that he didn’t remember, told his grandfather he locked away the memories, because that was easier than dealing with the emotions thinking about that day brought forth.

It had been warm, too warm, that day. Giyuu could remember sharing a drink with Sabito and the other kids, something sweet, the taste of sugar and fruit. Chimes hummed in the breeze, the wind hot like the stagnant air of a sauna. The other kids, who had wanted to stay by the convenience store fan, had told Sabito and Giyuu to go on without them.

Giyuu had mentioned the river, thought he was clever for finding a solution to combat the heat. And like a fool Sabito had agreed, he always agreed to anything Giyuu wanted.

They were only middle schoolers, kids high on the thrill of things who believed themselves invincible. Grandpa Urokodaki had told them not to play in the water by themselves, had warned that the summer monsoons made the water too high, too unpredictable.

The day could be recalled by the man in perfect recollection, like his brain was some sort of tv that had recorded the incident to forever play in his mind.

He could remember the water drops that hung off of viridian leaves, the birds that chattered overhead. He could recall the way the sun broke through gaps in the leaves, and how the grass felt against his bare feet. He could remember the way Sabito’s mouth made an “o” shape as he slipped, and the sound his body made when it hit the water below.

Giyuu had been too frozen to do anything that day. He wasn’t able to jump in after and pull Sabito’s body to safety as he thrashed wildly. He wasn’t able to throw him the rope the kids used as a hammock, and couldn't stop Sabito’s head from slipping under the water. He couldn’t will himself to run and get grandpa, and he couldn’t stop Sabito from drawing his last breath before he disappeared down the river.

The man sighed, ran a hand through his raven mess of hair. It was the anniversary of the death, a day Giyuu always kept free so he could come to visit Sabito. Every year it was the same, he would sit in front of the grave for hours. Thinking, unable to form words, thinking about how painful remembrance was. He would talk to Sabito about mindless things, not dwelling on the horrible fate he’d been dealt. That painful fate that made it impossible for Giyuu to scream or cry, yet being unable to express himself.

He stretched to dust fallen petals from the top of the grave. “It’s been a while, Sabito.” It’s been a while, but still you are with me. Never leaving, still in my head. He could still see Sabito sometimes, out of the corner of his eyes or the first moments after waking up. He could still feel the brush of Sabito’s cascade of hair on his cheek, still smell the mint gum that he had chewed so often. No matter how hard Giyuu tried, he just couldn’t get rid of the dead boy.

Not that he wanted to get rid of Sabito, no, it was more like he wanted to move on.

Giyuu wanted to be able to live without the constant, gnawing suspicion that he was the reason Sabito had drowned that day. Live without the feeling that he was lonely in a room of people, live without the fear that no one else would ever make him feel the things Sabito made him feel.

There were no tears in his eyes, but his voice faltered. He wanted to cry so, so badly, yet there was nothing he could do to make the tears come. He thought that surely he was the worst at expressing himself, unable to cry when he filled with sadness.

“I came here to tell you something,” Giyuu rested his head against the stone nameplate, felt the Sabito as it was indented in his flesh and made his forehead ache. He murmured a quick apology, he always did when he visited, and wiped at the dust that had gathered on the grave. His mind was a storm of tumultuous feelings, grief, sadness, nervousness, and anticipation𑁋 all fought for his focus, each vied for the spot to school Giyuu’s face into a deep emotion and pick out the words he would speak to Sabito.

There was a folded piece of paper in his jacket pocket, the graphite on its surface rubbed onto his fingers as he fished it out. “I wrote it down beforehand, I thought it would be easier to tell you if I thought hard about what I really wanted to say.”

His ocean eyes flickered across the paper, courage built in his stomach and prepared to help the man vocalize his feelings. “I’m not someone who’s good at expressing what I want, people are always telling me that.” He cocked his head, “But, today I’m going to try my hardest, because I know I will never be able to rest easy if I don’t get this off of my chest.”

The paper folded beneath his clenched, shaking fingers. “I still feel like I caused you to die, but I wanted you to know that slowly I’m beginning to come to terms with the fact that your death wasn’t my fault. I took us to the river that day, but I was not your damnation. I didn’t take your breath away and make your body go cold, the water did.” He paused, took a shaky breath in. “I dwelled on you for so very long, so long that I didn’t want to get close to anyone else because I was scared I might hurt them. And I have finally been able to open up, to make friends and fall in love again. I have been able to do the things with others that I thought I would only be able to do with you.” He sighed, looked down at the paper once more. “Sure, sometimes we fight, and sometimes they tease me, but they’re good people.”

The air picked up the ends of the man’s ponytail, wind danced through ebony locks and brought goosebumps to the surface of his flesh. “I came here today to ask for your blessing. As kids we promised to only love each other, but.” The words died on his tongue. “But, things didn’t go the way we thought they would. So I’m here to introduce you to someone, someone that I love.”

He leaned away from the grave, “I’m sorry if it upsets you. I’m sorry that I didn’t keep our promis𑁋”

“GIYUU!”

Someone rounded the corner, face flushed and annoyed. “I told you to wait for me! I was still talkin’ to your sister!” Sanemi Shinazugawa huffed, annoyance in his face vanished as he laid eyes on Giyuu, the man still on top of the grave. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, my bad.”

“No, it’s okay.” Giyuu slid back until he was in the space in front of the grave once more. “I said everything I needed to.”

“What should I say?”

Giyuu hummed, gestured to the space beside him and waited for the other man to sit down. “I’ll start.” He rested a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “Sabito. Meet Sanemi Shinazugawa. My lover .”

“Nice to meet you.” Sanemi narrowed his eyes, a trait that Giyuu recognized as his I’m thinking face. “When Giyuu said he wanted someone’s approval to go out, I thought it would be from a parent or even a sibling. I never expected this, and I’ve never done anything like it, so I’m real fuckin’ sorry if I mess up.” He leaned into Giyuu’s side, always the one to initiate contact between the two. “I’m here to ask you for your blessing.” He positioned his body in a half-assed attempt at a bow, still trying to keep Giyuu’s body pressed into his own.

The other man let out a puff of air, as much as a laugh as one could get from Giyuu Tomioka. “I hope you are okay with this Sabito, sorry to force it upon you so suddenly.”

A burst of wind moved the purple hyacinth, until it tumbled into the grass beside the grave and landed by a bright, yellow dandelion. Giyuu found his eyes, for once in a long while, filled with tears. “Hey!” Sanemi rose and took his face in his own hands, “What’s the matter?”

“I’m happy.”

Happy, because the wind had picked up the flower Giyuu had brought, and had pushed it until it was next to another flower Giyuu knew. A dandelion, a flower that had so many meanings, that showed healing after an emotional injury. A flower that portrayed long lasting happiness and youthful joy. A flower that fulfilled wishes. Dandelions granted blessing.

“Happy?” Sanemi rubbed the snot from Giyuu’s face, wiped the tears that ran down his cheeks in tiny rivulets. “But you’re crying like a damn baby!”

“Tears can mean more than sadness.” Giyuu sniffed, made to stand up.

“You don’t want to stay longer? I haven’t even read my qualifications,” Sanemi joked.

“No. We already got the blessing after all.”

[goldenhemmings]

When You Love Someone | Streetfighter!Shawn (Part Two)

Hi, friends! First of all, thank you SO much for all the love on the previous part of this (which you can read in my masterlist). I was not expecting such kind and supportive feedback, and I love and appreciate all of it! Secondly, thanks for sticking with me through how long it took to get this part posted. I had finals and a two-day drive home from college, so I had a lot of other stuff on my plate. But, with that being said, I did finally manage to finish this part. So, without further ado, please enjoy 6.7k more words of Streetfighter!Shawn. I’d love to hear your feedback, and I hope you enjoy!!

“Y/N, is that you? Come in here!”

She sighed as she followed her roommates’ voices to Jade’s bathroom, where Jade was hunched over the toilet and Brooklyn was sitting on the edge of the bathtub rubbing her back. “Hey,” Y/N muttered, trying to focus on anything but the stench of vomit that filled the small room. She stepped over Jade’s floor-ridden body to the small window at the top of the shower, pulling it open in the hopes that it would help to air out the room.

“Who’s the guy Brooklyn said you were with?” Jade hiccupped the second she registered Y/N’s presence in the room.

Y/N let out an exhale of breath as she stared down at her roommate who had her head halfway inside the toilet. “Glad to see you’ve sobered up.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Brooklyn pressed, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “Who was that?” Y/N, however, was not in the mood for her roommates’ antics. They had convinced her to go out when they knew how tired she was, and while Y/N understood that it was her own fault for going, she definitely blamed her friends for leaving her at the bar to fend for herself. She wasn’t very happy with them, to say the least.

Y/N simply scoffed, reaching up to pull her hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck. “What, were you spying on me or something?”

“No, I just heard voices in the driveway and I went to the window to see who it was,” Brooklyn defended. Y/N could see in her eyes that she was definitely still tipsy. “Then I saw you standing with some hot-ass guy and I obviously freaked out a little.”

“No need to freak out,” Y/N answered dryly. “He just felt bad that my friends left me alone at a bar at one in the morning and offered to walk me home.”

Brooklyn sighed, and the quiet in the air was soon interrupted by Jade once again beginning to heave into the toilet. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I know that was shitty. Jade was just really sick, and--”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s over with.” A pause. “And the guy is no one, so don’t keep asking.”

“Doesn’t sound like no one,” Jade finally spoke from the floor, slurring her words and wiggling her eyebrows much to Y/N’s chagrin. “Did you get his number?”

Y/N didn’t have the energy to argue. “No, I didn’t, and I’m going to bed.” She reached to grab the phone charger someone had left plugged in at the sink and took a step back towards the door.

“Already?” Jade asked, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout.

“I’m exhausted,” Y/N snapped as she desperately tried not to lose her patience. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.” She turned to walk out the door, making a note to find a sweatshirt as she felt the house’s air conditioning kick in. She stopped into the kitchen and reached into the cabinet where she and her roommates kept their medicine, retrieving two ibuprofen pills and a bottle of water from the fridge before going to set them by Jade’s bed; she knew Brooklyn would forget to think of it.

She trudged into her bedroom, which was thankfully isolated enough from the rest of the house that she could attain some semblance of a tranquil environment. She shrugged out of her clothes and into an oversized hoodie before crawling into bed, missing the chance to reflect on the events of the night as she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Y/N woke to sunlight filtering through her shuttered eyelids, and she stretched her stiff limbs before rolling over to check the time displayed on the clock on her nightstand. She blinked a few times, convinced the sleep in her eyes had made her read the clock wrong, but the red numbers glared back at her just the same; she’d slept past one in the afternoon. She noticed a McDonald’s bag keeping her alarm clock company on the nightstand, with a note attached to the bag written in such messy handwriting it could only be Brooklyn’s. I got you your favorite! I also took your dirty clothes to the laundromat, they’re all clean and in a basket by your closet. I love you and I’m sorry that I was a crap friend last night.

Y/N smiled to herself as she slowly sat up and moved to rest her back against the headboard of her bed. If there was one thing Brooklyn had never been able to handle, it was having someone be upset with her. Y/N reached for the drive-thru bag and pulled out her fast-food breakfast of choice, unwrapping it with a fervor as the smell hit her nose and she immediately realized how hungry she was.

As she finished off the meal and reached for the ice water Brooklyn had also left her, Y/N heard her phone vibrate from the surface of the nightstand where it was plugged in to charge. She rolled to retrieve it, an undeniable flip in her stomach as she saw the unsaved number and message that simply read Hey, It’s Shawn.

Y/N rolled her eyes; typical boy. How was she supposed to respond to a message that gave her virtually nothing to work with? Her immediate instinct told her to consult Brooklyn and Jade, but then she remembered how insistent she had been last night that the guy who’d walked her home was just that: a guy. She’d left out the part where she’d witnessed a fully-fledged fight in the women’s bathroom of a bar, the (brief) part where he’d held her hand, and especially the part where he had asked her out. She laughed out loud imagining how a conversation like that with her roommates would go: a How’d you two meet? followed by He beat the shit out of a guy right in front of me. Sweet, I know.

After several minutes of back-and-forth in her head, Y/N finally settled on a simple response: Still up for coffee?

She tossed her phone down next to her and leaned her head against her bed’s headboard, letting out a heavy exhale of breath as she stared up at the ceiling. It had been almost a year since she’d broken up with her ex-boyfriend, and even longer since she’d been on a real date. Would this even be a date? Should it be? What if he doesn’t even want to go anymore? Y/N ran her hands over her face with a deep sigh. She hadn’t been nervous until she started overthinking things; something she had a habit of doing.

On the other side of town, Shawn was sitting on his couch feeling like an idiot for how absorbed he was in waiting for his phone to light up. He tried to focus on some MMA fight he’d found on TV, but was too wrapped up in his thoughts about Y/N. When his phone finally did buzz he almost jumped out of his skin, then scolded himself for his lame dependency on hearing the familiar text tone. He clicked the button to illuminate the screen, revealing a message from the woman of the hour.

Still up for coffee?

Was he ever. He still scrunched his nose at the thought of actual coffee, as it was a taste he’d yet to acquire, but it was what Y/N had agreed to and Shawn was still more excited than he would ever admit. Of course, he typed back, thinking of a plan in his head. Does three work?

Y/N looked over at her clock again as though she’d expected it to display a more dramatic time change than there actually had been. It was 1:30; she could easily get ready in an hour and a half. Sure :)

I’ll pick you up, came Shawn’s almost instant reply. See you soon.

That was enough to have Y/N scrambling out of bed and into the shower to start getting ready. When she was done she slipped on a pair of jeans and her favorite sweater, opting to let her hair air-dry. When she was done applying the makeup that she wanted, she pulled the front half of her hair back with a white ribbon and gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Satisfied, she reached for her phone and her purse, heading into the living room to wait for Shawn’s arrival.

The second Y/N emerged from her room, Brooklyn’s head turned back to look at her from her spot on the couch. “You look nice,” she remarked, grabbing Y/N’s attention. “Going out?”

“Just, uh, meeting a friend to study,” Y/N lied. “I have a Political Theory exam in a week.”

Brooklyn laughed, eliciting an amused yet questioning expression from Y/N. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Brooklyn stated, and she waved Y/N off with her hand. Y/N didn’t buy it.

“Brook,” she pressed, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest.

“Well, first of all, I find it adorable that you start studying for exams a week in advance,” she explained, and Y/N giggled.

“Guess I’m not as brave as some people who like to wait until the night before,” she shrugged, teasing. Brooklyn smiled, but Y/N could tell she had more to say. She stared at her friend expectantly.

“I dunno,” Brooklyn started, and her eyes raked over Y/N. “You spend half your life studying, and I’ve never seen you look like this to do it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“Don’t know,” Brooklyn repeated. “I guess you’re either meeting someone special to study, or you’re not actually studying. Just a prediction.”

Before Y/N had the chance to defend herself (though Brooklyn was one-hundred-percent correct), the doorbell rang. Brooklyn raised her eyebrows suggestively, which Y/N pretended not to see as she made her way to the door. Before she could even get her hand on the knob, Brooklyn’s voice came from behind her.

“You gonna bring your backpack?”

“Why would I--” Y/N started, but then caught herself. Brooklyn laughed.

“Have fun studying. I expect details when you’re home.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t fight the tiny smile that was threatening to take over. “Check on Jade while I’m gone. No more ibuprofen until she eats something substantial.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

With that Y/N turned to once again face the door, taking a deep, stabilizing breath as she pulled it open to reveal Shawn standing in black jeans and a worn band t-shirt, his curly hair falling in his face and making him look much softer than she knew he was.

“I texted you, but you didn’t answer. Figured I should probably have come to the door anyway.”

Y/N smiled, suddenly more nervous than she had been all day. “That’s okay,” she answered, staring down at her shoes. Shawn backed up to allow her space to get through the doorway, the giddy smile remaining plastered on her face as she stepped outside after him.

“Bye kids, have fun!” Brooklyn teasingly called out before Y/N could tug the door closed. Y/N rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her friend’s antics.

Shawn let out a little laugh. “Who was that?”

“Just one of my roommates,” Y/N shrugged, walking alongside him as he led her to the sleek black Jeep parked on the street. “She can be a lot sometimes, but she means well.”

Shawn took two long strides to get in front of Y/N so that he could open the passenger side door for her. “Thank you,” she said softly, stepping on the little ledge to hoist herself onto the car’s leather seats. She watched him make his way around the front of the car to the driver’s side, and for the first time, she admitted to herself how attractive she found him. He smiled at her as he climbed into the car, and Y/N immediately felt the butterflies in her stomach kick in.  

“Okay,” he began, reaching to shut the door before turning to look at her. “Where to? It’s your pick.”

She raised her eyebrows playfully. “That’s so much pressure.”

“I trust you,” Shawn replied, still smiling in a way that made it hard for her to focus.

Y/N hummed as she stared out the windshield, thinking, and all-too-aware of Shawn’s eyes resting on the side of her face. “There’s a little cafe on the corner of Shea and 19th that I really like. I go there to study sometimes.”

“Works for me,” Shawn answered, his tattooed hand shifting the car into drive before reaching up to lazily rest on top of the steering wheel.

When they arrived, Shawn ordered for both himself and Y/N while she claimed a booth in the corner by a window. She laughed when he winked at her from where he stood at the counter awaiting their drinks, and she didn’t miss the grin that crossed his face as well. He carried the mugs with their steaming coffee in it over to the table, handing Y/N her cup before sliding into the booth across from her.

“So, your fighting,” Y/N started with a curious smile, wasting no time. “You promised to tell me about it.”

“I did, didn’t I? That was fast,” Shawn smiled, but he was immediately nervous. She probably expected him to say that he was a boxer, or that he wrestled; any other sport that was less brutal than what he actually did. Her bright eyes stared at him, awaiting his answer. “It’s called streetfighting,” he finally explained, carefully watching her face for any expression that could help him gauge how she was feeling. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. We preschedule matches, a bunch of people come to bet on us and watch, and then we just, uh, fight until the rules say we have to stop.”

“How do you fight?”

“Our fists, mostly,” Shawn answered, reaching up to scrub at the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh.

So it was that kind of fighting. Y/N inhaled, making sure to choose her next words carefully. “Isn’t that...illegal?”

“No, actually,” Shawn replied, not failing to notice how comically wide Y/N’s eyes had instantly gone. “As long as we’re not hurting bystanders or causing property damage, there’s technically no law here against mutual combat.”

Y/N looked down, letting out a little puff of air as she absentmindedly traced the rim of her coffee mug with her pointer finger. “What?” Shawn asked, unable to read her reaction. He was nervous about how Y/N would receive everything that he was saying, and the fact that he cared so much scared him.

She flicked her eyes up to find his staring right back at her. “I don’t know, you just sound like a lawyer, or something. Mutual combat makes it seem so formal. So...not scary.”

Shawn held his breath, his eyes still carefully fixated on her. “Does it? Scare you, I mean.”

“Um,” she started with a nervous laugh. “I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Didn’t realize it was something that existed beyond movies until today.”

“Fair.” He paused, hesitating before asking the question he wanted to. “Does it scare you that I’m a part of it?” he pushed, suddenly painfully aware of how his heart had begun to race with anticipation. He was past the stage of trying to deny that he cared what Y/N thought of him; he’d simply just accepted the fact that he did.

“No,” she answered softly, but with conviction. “I mean, you definitely intimidated me at first,” she continued, eliciting a bashful smile from Shawn. “But you’re not scary.”

He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. The frown Y/N wore silently asked what he was thinking. “Really thought you’d say yes,” Shawn admitted. “It’s more violent than most people are willing to deal with.”

“I don’t think it makes you a violent person, though,” she replied, without even having to think about it. “Football players don’t go around tackling people in their everyday lives just like you don’t go around picking fights outside of Dynamite.”

“What makes you think I don’t do that?”

She shrugged, looking down at her coffee. “I just don’t.”

Shawn simply hummed in acknowledgment, drawing Y/N’s focus back up to his face. She met his honey-brown eyes and her gaze flicked down to the small scar on his cheek that she hadn’t noticed until then, illuminated by the natural light streaming through the window next to them. “Your scar,” she mused, eyes still locked on it as Shawn’s inked hand came up instinctively to touch it. “How’d you get that?”

He sighed, turning his head to the side to stare out the window. “Fight. Some guy didn’t take his rings off.”

She nodded slightly. “So they made him stop and get rid of them?”

“Oh, no,” Shawn answered nonchalantly, and Y/N’s brow furrowed.

“He kept fighting you with rings on?”

Shawn laughed, but Y/N didn’t understand why. “He only got one punch in, sweetheart. Fight didn’t last very long.”

Her stomach swirled. Okay then. “But you still got the scar.”

He shrugged his shoulders, watching as Y/N leaned her chin to rest in her hand. “Yeah, but I kind of like it. Think it’s cool.”

Y/N grinned, causing the corners of Shawn’s mouth to turn up as well. “Of course you do.”

“What, you don’t think it’s badass?” he teased, pretending not to feel his chest do a stupid little flutter as Y/N tilted her chin back and laughed.

“I didn’t say that,” she giggled, and he joined in until their laughter naturally died out. Y/N studied his face, unsure of whether or not she really dared to ask the question she most wanted to. But as he looked back at her with a warm expression, the words came before she could think about it any longer.

“If streetfighting were illegal, would you stop?”

“Probably not,” he answered, straightforward and immediate.

She nodded, leaning her back against the seat. At least he was honest. She had a million more questions, but she didn't know if they were ones she should be asking. But her silence was telling, and Shawn seemed to read her mind.

“Whatever you want to ask me, you can. You don’t have to hold back.”

That was good enough for her. “Okay,” she conceded, leaning forward over the table. His eyes never left her. “So, you told me why you were hiding last night...said it was because of those guys chasing you. But why were they after you in the first place?”

“Fair question,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands as he formulated an answer. “They’re all streetfighters. The guy from last night, Damon, hangs around with another guy named Rocco, and they follow this third guy like he’s their alpha wolf, or some shit. I beat him in a fight a few weeks ago, and none of them liked that very much because he wasn’t expecting to lose. Now he’s all hot and bothered about revenge.” He couldn’t contain the smug smile that had spread its way onto his face; he still felt pretty damn good about having beat Axel.

Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t help but pick up on how little Shawn seemed to be affected by the fact that he apparently had three men out for his head. “That would scare me half to death,” she whispered, taking a sip of her coffee so that she had a little bit of time to think of something to say. She placed the cup down, feeling the table shaking slightly from Shawn’s knee, which had started bouncing nervously.

“How often do you fight?”

“About once every month or two. Just until I’m healed enough from the last fight well enough to take on a new one.”

She felt her chest tighten. “It takes you two months to heal?”

“Depends,” he answered, and he could immediately see in her eyes that all of it was beginning to register in her mind. She almost asked what it depended on in the hopes that it would prove her assumption wrong, but she knew she was right; that the time between fights was determined by how severe of a condition he was left in from the previous one. She hadn’t realized until that moment how serious of a style of fighting this really was.

Shawn’s leg kept bouncing as he waited for her to say something. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, but she remained silent as she tried to process. It wasn’t long before Shawn couldn’t handle the quiet. “What are you thinking?”

Y/N looked up to find his face laced with an unreadable emotion; somewhere between concern and discomfort. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s a lot to take in. This all just seems so…The Outsiders, or something.”

He laughed in relief; it was an answer milder than he had expected. “You think so?”

“Don’t you?”

“I’ve never actually read that book,” he admitted. “Just seen bits and pieces of the movie.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide and a smile came over her mouth; a sight for which Shawn was both grateful and relieved. A smile was a good sign. A smile meant that, even after everything he had told her, Y/N was still comfortable. “I can’t believe you’ve never read that book!” she pressed, bright-eyed. “It’s a classic.”

Shawn playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I had a rough childhood, I wasn’t reading the fucking Outsiders.”

Y/N’s light expression wavered, and her shoulders fell as though she were deflating. Shawn immediately wished he could take his words back. He wasn’t used to people that weren’t accustomed to his brash sense of humor, and the longer he sat in silence staring at Y/N’s face as she obviously struggled to come up with something to say, the stupider he felt for his lack of a filter.

“Sorry,” he muttered, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “That was...yeah. Probably too soon to be making jokes like that.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N reassured with a smile, swallowing hard as she pushed past it. “Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it, then.”

“Guess so,” he replied with a strained smile, still mentally kicking himself for being so careless.

He took a sip from his cup of coffee, immediately trying--but failing--to conceal how his face contorted as the bitter taste reached his tongue. Y/N giggled, watching him curiously.

“Still too hot?”

“No,” he grunted, setting the cup down on the table. “I just don’t actually like coffee.”

“Then why’d you suggest we get coffee?” she laughed, and Shawn swore he’d drink all the bitter, black coffee in the world if it was what it took to hear that sound.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, unsuccessfully fighting a smile, “it wasn’t my brightest idea.”

“Try putting cream and sugar in it,” she suggested as she reached to the edge of the table to grab a sugar packet. “Should make it more bearable.”

“Why didn’t you put this stuff in yours?” Shawn questioned, watching Y/N’s face as she focused on stirring sugar into his coffee.

“Sugar, you mean?” Y/N questioned, her eyes flicking up to meet his. Shawn nodded. “I’m a full-time college student,” she explained with a shrug. “I’m immune to the taste. I’m surprised I haven’t resorted to just eating actual coffee beans by now.”

“College sounds fun,” he teased, grinning. “I’m obviously missing out.”

It was Y/N’s turn to smile. “It’s not so bad.” She slid the cup of coffee across the table to him; a tacit request for him to try it.

He looked at her challengingly, raising his eyebrows. “I trust that this is gonna be better and not worse.”

She laughed breathily, leaning back to fold her arms over her chest. “No promises.”

He took a sip from the mug, quirking his head to the side thoughtfully. “Not bad,” he approved.

“Told you!”

Shawn shook his head teasingly. “Actually, I believe what you said was ‘no promises.’” Y/N laughed, taking a drink from her own cup.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked as she placed her coffee back on the table, phrasing it like she was simply making conversation but secretly hoping he’d say he wasn’t busy so that she could extend their day together.

“I’m going to Dynamite tonight,” he answered, and Y/N pretended not to be disappointed. “Not to fight, but there’s a match so I’m kind of expected to be there.”

“What about those guys that were after you?”

Shawn cocked his head to the side. “What about them?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Y/N stumbled, trying to find the right words. “What if they...show up? Find you?”

But Shawn just shrugged, unbothered. “Not sure. I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.”

“You’re not worried about it?”

“Not really,” Shawn admitted, and as disconcerting as his nonchalance was, Y/N managed to push past it.

“What’s it like where you fight?”

“Well,” Shawn started, taking a deep breath. Where to even begin? “It’s called Dynamite, because it’s through an alleyway off Dynamite Road in midtown. There’s really not much to it other than a square slab of concrete surrounded by a chain-link fence. If you maybe, uh, want to come tonight, I can show it to you.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Y/N dismissed, staring down at her empty coffee mug. “Thank you, though. I just think I need a little more time to process before I see everything in action.” Shawn nodded. He’d expected her to say no, but it still disappointed him. “What time do you have to be there?”

“Fights usually start around seven, so I get there a little earlier,” he answered, and Y/N checked her phone. 5:30.

“Damn,” she mumbled, unaware that she was saying it out loud.

“What?”

She looked up at Shawn, showing him her phone screen. “We’ve been here for a long time.”

He grinned. “Time flies.”

“I don’t want to make you late to the fight,” Y/N continued, tucking her phone into her purse. “We can leave, if you want.”

“I don’t,” he sighed, and Y/N’s stomach flipped. “But you’re probably right that we should.”

He stood up, Y/N following suit, and led the way out of the small coffee shop. From behind him he heard Y/N thank the barista standing at the counter, and he smiled to himself as they walked to his car in the parking lot. A part of him was convinced that she was too good for him, that he would never deserve her time or her kindness, but a bigger part of him didn’t care. His cheeks got hot from just thinking about her, and the effect her presence had on him was even greater. The way he felt about her was terrifying because it was something he’d never experienced with anyone else, and how quickly it had happened only scared him even further; he couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

He opened the passenger door for her again once they reached the car, and she thanked him quietly when he extended his hand to help her up. They spent the entire drive home talking and laughing as though part of their conversation hadn’t been so heavy, and Shawn even pretended to accidentally make a few wrong turns so that he could extend their time together. It was obvious that he was getting lost on purpose, but Y/N didn’t care. She’d probably be doing the same thing.

When he pulled up in front of her house he dashed around the side of the car to help her out, and Y/N smiled; she’d not gotten a door for herself the entire day. She slid out of the car, adjusting the strap of her purse so that it sat where she wanted it on her shoulder. She looked up at Shawn, who was leaning against the side of his Jeep studying everything from the way she looked to the way she moved. She killed him.

“Thank you for today,” Y/N started, suddenly shy. “I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” Shawn answered, trailing off like he had more to say. Y/N picked up on it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed, attempting to reassure her with a smile.

She watched him, amused eyes trained on his face. “No, you were gonna say something.”

Shawn sighed; she was right. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” Y/N replied, confused as to why his demeanor had suddenly shifted.

“Okay.” He tugged a hand through his hair and let out a heavy breath. What are you doing, what are you doing? “I don’t really, um, date.”

Y/N felt a weight hit her chest. Of fucking course he’s too good to be true. “Oh.”

“No, wait, hang on. Just let me explain where I’m going with this,” he pushed, and Y/N’s eyes fixated on him, rightfully perplexed. “I hate talking about how I feel so, bear with me.” He paused to take another breath, looking off to the side as he continued. “I don’t date, ever, so I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t usually say or do the right thing and that’s probably not gonna change. I can’t make any promises to you about anything other than the fact that I like you a lot, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“Okay,” Y/N acknowledged, her heart in her throat as she tried to follow him. She couldn’t tell if this was taking a good or a bad turn. “So what are you trying to say?”

“I want to try,” he admitted, finally looking at her. “This. With you.”

“‘This?’” she quipped. “Like dating, or…?”

“Yeah, I guess. Even though I don’t really know what that entails.”

Y/N laughed softly, tentatively taking a step closer to him. “You don’t have to know what you’re doing. You just go at your own pace.”

“It’s because I don’t get attached to people,” he continued, his jaw clenched in a way that made it seem like he was being forced to talk against his will. “I close myself off, I guess, because it only ever ends up badly for me. But I’m attached to you already and I don’t know why. I just am.”

She nodded, trying to put the pieces together. “So what do you want from me?”

“Be patient with me. Assuming that you even want this,” he laughed, looking up at the sky like it held the words he wanted to say. “Sort of forgot to verify that before I said all this embarrassing shit.”

“Hey,” Y/N cut in, reaching for his hand before either of them knew what was happening. “It’s not embarrassing. If you want to try then I do, too.”

Shawn wrapped his fingers around hers, feeling himself calm down. Having her hand in his anchored him, somehow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And there’s no rush. We can just see what happens.”

Without even thinking about it, he brought her hand up to place a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling. “Be safe tonight, alright?”

“I will,” he nodded, grinning even though her words weighed on him. No one ever cared whether or not he was safe. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” she replied, a teasing look making its way into her eyes. “Are you gonna let go of my hand so I can go inside or am I just stuck here?”

Shawn laughed, a looseness that came with getting his feelings off of his chest taking over. “If you insist,” he teased, dropping her hand but not dropping his eyes from her face. She looked up at him, and for a split second she swore he was going to kiss her. Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched the soft smile on his face, his brown eyes equally as tender.

Shawn stared back at Y/N, simply taking in everything about her. He never wanted to forget the way she looked in that moment, with her lips parted and her hair slightly messy but still perfect, or the way the golden light from the setting sun seemed to outline her figure in an ethereal glow. He so badly wanted to kiss her, but he was determined to be careful with her; to take things slowly and to not force anything. He finally let out the air from his chest, effectively severing the tension that had been in the air between them.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he simply said, reaching into his pocket for his car keys.

“Okay,” Y/N affirmed, biting the inside of her cheek. “Bye, Shawn.”

“Bye.” He sent her one last dizzying smile before climbing into his Jeep, and Y/N stepped back onto her driveway as she watched him start the car and pull away. As soon as he was out of sight, a heavy breath left her lungs and an unrestrained, childish smile took over her face. She half-walked, half-skipped up to her front door, pushing it open and immediately running to find her roommates. She hadn’t been excited about a guy in over a year, and she was no longer able to keep it from them.

Her roommates must have heard the door shut, as they both emerged from Jade’s bedroom with intrigued looks on their faces. “How was it?” Brooklyn burst out, pulling Y/N over to the couch in the small living room. “I already filled Jade in.”

Y/N laughed. “Of course you did.”

“Spill,” Jade commanded, plopping herself at Y/N’s right side as an elated smile took over her features.

Y/N hid her grin with her shoulder, her roommates squealing with excitement in response to Y/N’s infectious giddiness. “I don’t even know where to start.”

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

Shawn had just parked his car on the side-street outside Dynamite when he felt his phone vibrate from where it sat in the console. His heart started to pound in the hopes of it being from Y/N, but his face fell upon actually reading the message.

Hi Sugar. Coming to the fight tonight?

Shawn’s eyes rolled as he contemplated even responding. What’s it to you? he finally fired back. He’d had too good of a day with Y/N to ruin it by dealing with Raven’s overbearing devotion to him, so he slid his phone back into his pocket, hopping out of the car and locking it behind him. Raven would not ruin his high or sour his mood; he refused to allow it.

He walked through the alleyway to Dynamite like he’d done so many times before, but this time he had a certain lightness in his step that hadn’t previously been there. He tucked his hands into the front pocket of the black sweatshirt he’d slid on after finding it in the backseat of his car, nodding in greeting to the people he recognized, ready to inquire about their thoughts on that night’s matchup. Before he had the chance, however, he felt a light punch in his shoulder and turned around to be met with Mateo; the person he’d been scheduled to fight the previous night before Axel came and made a scene.

“Who ya got tonight, Mendes?” Mateo asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Who’s fighting?”

“Adam and Maverick.”

Shawn exhaled, smiling smugly as he reached into his pocket for cash as though the choice was obvious. “I’ll put a hundred on Mav, easy.”

Mateo raised his brows. “Bold,” he remarked. “They’re about as evenly matched as it comes.”

This elicited a scoff from Shawn. “You’ve never fought Mav. That son of a bitch is strong.”

“I’ve never fought you, though,” Mateo retorted. “Maybe you’re just weak.”

“You’re fucking full of it,” Shawn grinned, and Mateo laughed. Mateo was an arrogant little shit, but Shawn had never actually possessed any reason to dislike him or harbor any animosity towards him.

“Let’s rematch then.”

Shawn sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, feigning concern. “You sure, buddy? You got lucky the other night when I had to leave before our fight. You know I’d have beat your punk ass up.”

“You seem to forget that I’ve got a few years’ experience on you. Let’s settle it.”

Shawn laughed, ready to agree to a rematch when he heard a sharp, feminine voice cut through the air behind him. “What the hell, Mendes?”

Shawn’s stomach dropped. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Raven was stalking towards him, ready to interrogate him within an inch of his sanity. Mateo shot Shawn an apologetic expression before backing away quickly; he knew when he wasn’t wanted. Raven stepped around Shawn so that she was face to face with him, and she popped her hip out as she folded her arms over her chest.

Shawn scowled, rolling his eyes at her display. “What?” he demanded, but it came out flat.

Raven scoffed. “What do you mean ‘what?’ You’ve been dodgy lately, and it’s pissing me off.”

It was Shawn’s turn to scoff, taking a step back as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t exist to keep you happy, Raven.”

He knew she would never admit it, but that had hurt her; Shawn could see it in her eyes. Unfortunately for him, she was able to push through it and keep the argument going. “No, you obviously only exist to come over late at night, get laid, and then sneak out of my apartment while I’m sleeping, because you’re an asshole.”

“Well if it pisses you off so much, then maybe stop begging for me all the time,” Shawn responded, his tone laced with bitter sarcasm. “Or, no, I’ll do you one better—I’ll just cut this off completely. It’s a win-win.”

Raven’s tough expression faltered, and her folded arms fell to her sides. “T-That’s not what I meant, Shawn.”

“No? Well it’s what I meant,” he bit back, relishing in the way he could visibly see Raven coming undone. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole, alright? But this—whatever it was—needed to end a long time ago.”

She laughed dryly, shaking her head in incredulity as she turned to the side to hide the hurt on her face. “Sugar, you can’t stay away from me and we both know it. You’re gonna regret this.”

“I only regret that I didn’t do it sooner,” he replied, less harshly, and he meant it. He knew he should have ended things with Raven a long time ago, but he just never could seem to get himself to do it. It was obvious that meeting Y/N had been the push he needed; he suddenly couldn’t think about anyone or anything other than her, even if he wanted to.

Raven stared back at him, her name suddenly fitting as her dark eyes narrowed, beady and bird-like as they held his gaze. Shawn kept standing there because he was sure she was about to say something, but all she did was stare with a look that could definitely kill.

“Raven!” Adam called, snapping her from her infuriated reverie and cutting the tension between her and Shawn. She turned to the side in search of the source of the voice. “We starting or not?”

She glared back at Shawn one last time, and it took all the strength he had to just stand there and keep quiet. He wanted so badly to shut her down, to insist that there was not a single reason why she should be this affected, but he didn’t. He just stood there and let her stab him with the piercing stare of her eyes. Maybe he owed her that much. Maybe she at least deserved his restraint.

“Yeah,” Raven finally shouted back, turning to the crowd. Shawn didn’t miss the waver in her voice. “Last chance to place your bets. Fight starts on my count.”

“Fuck you,” she spat to Shawn over her shoulder, turning around with a dramatic flip of her hair. “You’re nothing but a waste of time.”

“Actually, Raven, wait,” he called, feigning reluctance, and she whipped around so quickly it was as though she were being pulled by a string. She stared up at him, doe-eyed and hopeful even though she laughably tried to maintain her hard expression. Shawn smirked, extending a fistful of cash towards her.

“Do me a favor. Put me down for a hundred on Maverick.”

Feedback is so appreciated, and let me know if you want me to add another part!

Taglist: @joyfullyswimmingface @fourtristattoos @goldiean @justmesadgirl @shawns-curls @iam-a-painted-whore 

[brokenbones-singsongs]

If I am being entirely honest, I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to feel like I am tied to someone.  I don’t want to share my things. I don’t want to have to take care of someone else. I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as someone. I don’t want to feel bad for never wanting to have sex. I don’t want kisses. I don’t want to be touched.  I don’t want to go on trips together. I don’t want any of it. It damn near kills me that every time I look at my wedding dress I have to think about how much I want to forget that day. I want to forget wondering where my husband and my friends were when I was inside dancing. I want to forget that nothing worked out from the very start. That my best friend walked away from me and so many of the people I wanted there the most couldn’t make it. I want to forget that I didn’t get to walk down the aisle to the song I dreamed of for years. I can’t remember what the sanctuary looked like. I don’t remember the vows he said to me and I don’t remember what I wrote. We didn’t get to take communion and I barely got to speak to anyone. I was tired and frustrated and sick and I just wanted to go home.  I’v spent an entire year waiting on things that won’t happen. Wanting more of what I can’t have. The simple fact of the matter is that we are two very different people and the things that matter most to me don’t matter to him at all. He doesn’t see the beauty in the smallest of things. He doesn’t understand how important safety and security are to me. He doesn’t understand why things are so hard for me and why home is so important.  Everything I do is a problem. I have too many feelings. I have too many things. I care about too much. I’m too possessive of my things. I don’t look at it all as “ours” because I know that without the money I bring home we’d both be homeless, hungry, carless, phoneless, insuranceless, and whatever elseless.  We can’t go on dates together because I can’t afford to do everything on my own. I can’t suggest a weekend to do halloween things with friends without hearing him mutter something about “more money” as if it’s not money I worked for to begin with. I can’t exist without hearing something about how I haven’t touched him or I never sleep with him. I hate myself. I hate how I look. I am not comfortable. I don’t like taking my clothes off. Sex is inconvenient and irritating. It’s messy, it’s sticky, and the gratification doesn’t outweigh the frustration. It doesn’t make me feel loved. It’s not intimate to me. It’s nice for five minutes and then I have to get up and take care of myself so I don’t get an infection or something stupid and then I go to sleep like nothing ever happened. The bed isn’t big enough to share and he wakes me up every hour or so with moving and shaking and weird ass noises and I’m never fully rested.  He’s messy and he destroys the bathroom and leaves things in odd places and doesn’t care that it bothers me. He leaves me to do practically everything on my own. I manage the plans. I keep track of the calendar. I know when the bills are due. I make all of the calls. I keep track of groceries and cleaning tasks and everything in between.  He has no understanding of my want for more. For better. For not settling. I grew up in a broken home. I grew up in a place where things were broken so often that none of the dishes matched. Nothing was ever really new. A lot of our things were hand-me-downs from somewhere else. We couldn’t always get the name brand cereals and poptarts. Simple things like toaster strudels and christmas tree cakes were a special treat. I remember eating eggos and peanut butter sandwiches for days and weeks at a time. Most of our clothes came from walmart. We only got to have one pair of shoes at a time. We were limited to how much we could eat or drink because groceries were so expensive. We always shared a room with someone. In fact, we shared everything. I never got to play sports because it cost money. I spent so much of middle and high school conscious of how much things were, missing out on trips of a lifetime because we just didn’t have the money. And no, it wasn’t always that way and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that life was the way it was. But I want to be able to open my cabinets and have my things match. I like that my cookie sheets are still silver. My silverware still matches. I like that nothing sticks to my pots and all of my measuring cups are still living on their little rings. My oven mitts aren’t stained and don’t have holes. My picture frames match my blankets that match the couch that matches the tables and chairs. I have a full set of Pyrex measuring cups and none of my coffee mugs are chipped. I have SO MANY shoes and they match all of my outfits. I have running shoes and work shoes and black heels and nude heels and blue heels and silver and gold heels. I have keds and converse and vans I have white shoes and pink shoes and blue shoes and red shoes too. I have dresses for every occasion and new, expensive clothes. Clothes that have stood the test of time. Clothes that I used to walk by the storefronts and say “maybe someday.” I have these things and I am proud of these things. I have worked and worked hard for these things. I saved and I was diligent and I never wanted to settle. I didn’t settle. I wanted more so I worked for it. I wanted to see the world outside of NC so I did. I took my happy self to Seattle and Alaska and California. I saw mountains and valleys and waterfalls that I once dreamed of. I’ve made far away friends and served strangers in cities that feel like home in a past life.  I walked across bridges and saw musicals and sang way too loud in restaurants with my best friend. I’ve ran along shorelines and sat on the edges of cliffs because those are the things that matter the most to me. 

I always thought this was what I wanted. To be married and in a pretty house with the love of my life with all the tiny things I’ve procured from the world around me. Quiet evenings curled up on the couch. Books and movies and dinner and lights wrapped around the rails on the back porch. Fireplaces and fuzzy blankets. Coffee at 9:00pm because I can.  I’m realizing now that I still want those things, but I want them without the pressure of pleasing someone else. I like being alone. I like doing what I want. I like coming and going and not feeling obligated to sometimes snuggle or let someone kiss me. I like not having someone try to get me to take my clothes off when I’m half asleep. I like making a pot of coffee for one person. I like doing things without wondering if I’m going to be questioned about the money I spent later. I like only having semi one-sided conversations with the cat and listening to the music I enjoy in every room Alexa can reach without knowing I’m the only one who likes it.  I’ve never done well with respecting people simply because they’re a man and that’s what they need. I never have understood the inherent NEED for sex and how it’s the driving force of everything and how it’s somehow a problem that I just don’t care for it. I don’t understand why I should have to give more than he should just because I have it. I deliberately chose the things I did because I wanted more, why can’t he choose more too? Why does everything have to revolve around how long he can sit in front of his computer and call people cocksuckers and hope he gets money out of it? Why isn’t his real job more important? Why does he settle for so little? Why doesn’t he do everything he can to be better? Why doesn’t he have the same drive that I do? Why is everything “just the way it is?” to him? Why doesn’t he see doctors or workout more or talk to someone, or something to fix the things that make his life harder? Nothing is “just how it is.” If you want it to be better, fix it. Why am I not allowed to wonder here his money goes? Why do I have to be made to feel guilty for expecting him to give as much as I do?  I don’t think I should have to do without when I alone have the means for more. If I have the ability to do a little extra, why can’t I? The bills are paid, we’re not starving, why should I feel bad about going out of town or buying that new set of makeup brushes or the sweater I fell in love with? Why do I get the “well you ARE married now...” lectures whenever I say I would like to do my own laundry and clean up my own messes and let him worry about his things? Why is it a problem I don’t fucking want to be a mother? I just am really not happy. I’m not. But I made a promise and I took a vow and I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to break another person. I’ve broken so many before and still haven’t forgiven myself for it. I just also know I can’t live like this forever. It isn’t fair to either of us. It isn’t and I can’t keep locking myself in the closet and literally crying myself to sleep every evening after work only to emerge like some gremlin and pretend nothing happened. I just....can’t.  

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 10: Runaway

Man, I cannot believe we’re up to #10 (I’m kind of ready for Christmas - and summer - to be over, honestly). 

To the fic!

(Another Alice AU! Human Alice AU! When human Alice is sent to a psychiatric hospital, she gets a vision of Jasper and heads off to find him, and then convince him to find the Cullens.)

//

The snow was up to his knees as he moved steadily through the forest. He kept his gaze straight ahead, though his stance looked awkward to anyone who might have seen him. He wasn’t moving at full speed, but faster than a human should have been capable of in such snow.

Eventually, he saw what he was looking for, finally.

The trees finally parted to reveal a large white house with a cheery red roof. The garden spilt right into the forest. Other than being a nice house, there was essentially nothing special about it.  

He huffed, ducking through the last of the trees. They had made it. Hopefully in time.

“Almost there, darlin’,” he murmured.

As he crossed into the open land, five figures emerged from the house, suspicion radiating off them.

He keeps moving forward to them, picking up his pace slightly.

“I need help,” he said brusquely as he came closer, deciding to ignore the risk of their suspicion. If they chose to attack, it would be disastrous, but he didn’t have the time or power to take the cautious route. “Please.”

“How can we help you?” the eldest male asked politely, but cautiously. The stranger was scarred, and his clothing was a mismatched collection of not-quite worn, worn, and completely worn out. He stood oddly, his stance positively awkward, one that none of the residents could figure out.

The man heaved a sigh, and turned slightly. It took the family a moment to realize precisely what they were seeing.

His arms were looped around oddly, and the sneaker-clad foot was almost hidden by his arm. The eldest woman understood the quickest, gasping as they took the seen in. A girl was huddled against his back, her face waxy and pale, lips tinged blue, and layers upon layers of clothing wrapped around her. Her eyes were closed, and even from a distance, her breathing was a disjointed struggle. Her tiny arms were wrapped loosely around his neck.

She was human.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “Please, please help us.”

//

The flashlight flickered over my face and I tried to relax my face. I only had a tiny window of opportunity and if the nurses found out that I was awake, they’d medicate me and it would be all over. No second chances.

After a few moments, the flashlight moved away from my face, and after a moment – the nurse checking on my roommate, who was thankfully drugged to the gills – and left, the door closing quietly.

And then I could hear the chime – shift change.

I slipped out of my bed, quickly folding the bedding so it looked like maybe I had burrito-ed myself in the blanket. I crept over to the wardrobe and grabbed my backpack and shoes.

I took a deep breath and slipped out of the room. Definitely no going back now.

The hallway was empty – everyone would be at handover, debriefing on who was having a good night, who was having a bad night and who was just being a pain in the ass. Only Jeffery, the security guard, and the admin monkey would be around. It was after midnight.

I crept down the hallway, towards the stairwell. There was only one way out without a security pass – the unbolted window in the storeroom on the first level. I scurried down the stairs, stopping only to pull a hoodie on over my pajamas and jam my feet into my sneakers.

The first floor was totally empty – it was where all the doctor’s offices were. The storeroom was the only one that had a proper key-lock instead of a pass-scanner, since it was just printer paper, paper towels and stuff like that.

But I didn’t have a key. This was where things would get complicated. I knew that the lock and handle was old, but the door was quite heavy. The only thing I had was a metal nail file I had stolen from a nurse to pry the handle off enough to push the door open.

Shouldering my bag, I pulled the file out of my pocket and jammed it between the wood and the metal and threw all my weight against it.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered, trying it again. There was a groan and the handle was clearly coming away. I threw every thing I had and there was a loud clunk as the handle dropped away, and the file snapped, slashing the palms of my hands.  I kicked the door and threw myself against it, it finally swinging open, and I tumbled through, falling over a box of Styrofoam cups.

“Is someone down here?” Oh god, Jeffery. Where Jeffery was, the creepy orderly wouldn’t be far behind. I dragged myself to my feet. The window was right there, and I scrambled up the bookcase, unlatching the window and shoving it open, the screen banging loudly. And I scrambled through, tumbling out and into the dumpster below. Eww.

“Who’s there?” Jeffery was in the storeroom now, and I was rapidly running out of time. In so many ways.

I clumsily clambered out of the dumpster, dazed and bruised and began to run. The staff car park had no fencing, but storm water drains that everyone called ‘the canals’. They would be mostly dry tonight, just mud and sludge. I scrambled down and pressed myself against the concrete for a moment. The sides were almost six feet tall, with a couple of old pipes as my only hand and foot holds. I had seen it, I knew I could do it, but dreaming it was very, very different to living it. I had maybe a minute before the safety lights were turned on.

Only one chance. I had to go now.

I hurled myself up, scrapping my hands raw and trying not to cry. I was gasping for air by the time I made it to the other side. The flood lights came on with an echo, and I could hear people calling. Damnit. Too slow, Alice.

I picked myself up and started to run towards the hiking trails. They wouldn’t catch me, not now.

I was finally free.

//

The Hill Park was abandoned after dark, thankfully.

I had woken up late afternoon, feeling much better rested. I was dirty, and covered in spiders-web, but I was still free.

Clambering out, I pulled a granola bar and my water from my bag, inhaling my meagre meal. Whatever happened, I’d need to find more food, soon. I may have been small, but I needed more than a few stolen snacks.

And then I went and perched on a swing, to wait.

He didn’t arrive til after midnight.

He was so much different in real life. Not better or bigger, just more. He towered above me, with deep crimson eyes and a mop of blonde hair. Angry black circles underscored both his eyes. His clothes were stained and shredded.

Major Jasper Whitlock – either my saviour or my murderer.  My fate was in his hands – and I had put it there, quite willingly.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” I said, standing up to face him, pulling my hood down. He stared at me.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he said in a low voice. Right now, he was interested. Curious. And hungry. But I was still young – too young to be hunted, if he could possibly help it. He wasn’t going to stay.

“Do you want the long version?” I asked, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve. He jerked away from me, his eyes wide. “I have dreams of the future. And I needed to find you. This can go two ways – you can kill me, or you can let me come with you.  If you turn me away, well, I’m dead anyway. Please.”

//

The two vampires looked startled. One was male with brown hair, not quite as tall as Jasper, and rather lean. The other was female and reminded me of a porcelain doll – strawberry blonde curls, round eyes, and a perfect cupid’s-bow mouth. They both wore old and impractical clothing and had bare feet.

And scarlet eyes.

“Who is this?” the woman asked, her eyes wide, darting between Jasper and I.

The male had the strangest look on his face, one I couldn’t decipher. One I didn’t want to decipher.  

“This is Alice. Alice, this is Peter and Charlotte,” Jasper said simply.

“Hello,” I said shyly.

“Hello Alice,” Peter said, staring at me.

Jasper looked up at the sky. “We need to set up camp.”

“Of course,” Charlotte said faintly, shooting an alarmed look at the male.

Jasper kept his arm around me as we moved closer to the river, finding a moderate clearing.

We had camping down to a fine art. We didn’t carry to much with us – Jasper would gather wood and stone so I could build the fire; my bedding was just his parka as a mattress, and mine as a blanket; in the new few weeks, I’d have to find a sleeping bag, before it turned cold.

I used the river to wash, and fill my water bottles.

The vampire couple watched us curiously, and both visibly flinched when I got my campfire going.

By the time night fell, I was sitting in front of the fire, eating. It wasn’t much – an orange, a package of crackers, a can of tuna. Jasper already had plans to go into the next town to get more supplies in the next day or two. Jasper was sitting beside me, the couple sitting towards his right, their gazes darting to the fire every few seconds. I never really thought about how uncomfortable Jasper must be when I made a fire. He never said anything.

“So,” Peter said finally. “Where did you and Alice meet?”

“California,” Jasper said, watching as I began peeling my orange, throwing the peel into the fire. I was tired, I’d need to sleep soon.

“How old are you, Alice?” Charlotte asked me; she still wore an expression of curiosity on her face, like I was a puzzle should couldn’t figure out.

“Nearly fifteen,” I said, looking up at her. My hair was twisted up into a messy bun, and I was wearing an oversized sweater and sweatpants to sleep in; I looked homeless compared to her, and she look like she hadn’t bathed in the last year.

“And where are you headed?” Peter seemed uncomfortable as I crammed fruit into my mouth.

“North,” Jasper said with certainty. “Somewhere safe. Nevada was too dangerous.”

“As bad as New Orleans,” Peter agreed.

I reached out and grabbed my water bottle. “I’m going to get some sleep,” I said, looking down at Jasper, who smiled up at me.

“Sleep well, darlin’,” he murmured.

I walked over to my little bed, behind the fire, wrapping the coats around me, and falling asleep easily, to the sound of the fire crackling, and of the forest settling for the night.

“You turn a girl that young, and the Volturi will never stop watchin’ you!”

I was neither awake nor asleep, but aware of the agitated conversation behind me.

“I’m not gonna change her!”

“Then what the hell is goin’ on here? We don’t hear from you in a decade, and then we find you playin’ house with a little human girl in the middle of the forest!”

“Peter, calm yourself. Jasper, you understand that we’re confused. This isn’t what we expected to find.”

“She’s… she needed help, she was in danger. She’s… Alice has dreams of the future, and they told her to find me, to keep her safe from someone. And I… I don’t know what I was thinking, but now... she helps. Me. She makes everything… less difficult.” He sounded strained.

“Oh, Jasper,” Charlotte sighed. “What are you going to do? You can’t just walk the length and breadth of the country with her, she’s human. And you can’t change her until she’s older.”

“She… she had dreams about a coven, one who doesn’t hunt humans and would accept both of us amongst their ranks. That they would help us and keep us safe.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I just want to find somewhere she can live that is safe, and that place isn’t a coven.”

But before I could hear the end of the conversation, sleep swallowed me again.

[foreverythingyouhatemefor]

❝Not Meant For Me❞

❝I'm trapped in this world Lonely and fading Heartbroke and waiting For you to come We are stuck in this world That's not meant for me For me❞

{Not Meant For Me - Wayne Static}

The familiar "click" of her front door unlocking is like music to her ears. Chloe has finally returned home after another long and grueling day, and she is in desperate need of a shower before she even thinks about doing anything else for the rest of the night. She had just finished up an insanely busy five hour shift at the coffee shop, and she is a mix of sore, sweaty, and exhausted.

A small yawn escapes through her lips as she makes her way inside of her tiny apartment. She closes and locks the door behind her, before dropping her bag onto the floor next to her. She unceremoniously kicks her shoes off of her throbbing feet, not caring where abouts they land. All she cares about is getting out of her uncomfortable as fuck work uniform, washing her day away, and slipping into a much comfier outfit. She's already stripping out of said work uniform as she trudges towards the bathroom, internally thanking God that she doesn't have to work tomorrow. She desperately needs to clean and organize her apartment, as well as do her laundry. Between her job, and the seemingly endless amount of schoolwork, she hasn't had a lot of downtime to do either of those things.

Welcome to adulthood, Chloe. It's not what it's all cracked up to be. Kid you is a fucking moron for thinking that life gets easier as you grow older. At least back then, kid you didn't have all the responsibilities that adult you has to face, now. Especially in an entirely new city, in an entirely new state, where the only person you know just so happens to be your six minute younger than you, pain in the ass fraternal twin brother who decided to tag along for the ride.

Fun fuckin' fact, kiddos. It ain't just identical twins who are, stereotypically, attached at the hip!

Sunnydale, California. A seemingly sleepy town with a population of only 38,500 people. A vastly different number than the over 2,000,000 population of her hometown of Brooklyn, New York. Both herself and her younger brother, who is named Christopher if anyone cares, had moved there only a few months prior to attend school at U.C. Sunnydale. Chloe had been accepted into the Religion and Film program, whereas Christopher had been accepted into the Psychology program.

Their parents had chosen to stay behind in Brooklyn, mainly due to the fact that they own and operate a very popular Italian restaurant that they didn't want to give up. A decision that both kids understood, since they know how passionate their parents are when it comes to that place. The last thing they'd want is to hand it over to potentially incompetent people who will end up running the restaurant into the ground. Plus, they knew that their kids could take care of themselves. In more ways than just remembering to change their underwear every single day.

Chloe is fully nude by the time she finally makes her way into the tiny bathroom. Not that anyone would see it, anyways. She lives all by her little lonesome in that tiny as fuck, one bedroom apartment of hers. The very apartment that is only a four block walk from the university one way, and a five block walk from the coffee shop the other way. She finds this to be insanely convenient, since being within walking distance of both her school and her workplace means she gets way more exercise than she ever did when she was still living in Brooklyn. Plus. There is way less traffic here than there is there. That's another added bonus, right there.

She stops in front of the sink, figuring she should at least brush her teeth before she hops into the shower. She can't help but snort a laugh as her blue eyes settle upon her reflection staring back at her in the tiny mirror that hangs above it. Between the dark circles under her eyes and the look of pure exhaustion, she looks like a fucking zombie. Shit. If a zombie apocalypse were to break out, maybe the undead bastards would mistake her for one of their own and spare her precious brains. She begins to hum the song "The Attack of the Dead Men" by Sabaton under her breath, another laugh escaping her after she finishes humming the chorus. She gives a shake of her head, before reaching for her trusty toothbrush and toothpaste.

She continues to hum the song as she brushes her teeth, only pausing when she goes to rinse out her mouth. After that's done, she makes her way over towards where the tub is located. She pulls back the curtain, before leaning down to turn on the taps. Call her crazy, but, Chloe likes her showers to be as hot as Satan's ballsack. Especially after an insanely long day of classes and work. She finds that the hot water helps soothe her sore muscles, and it helps her to relax when she's feeling tense or stressed. As soon as the temperature is where she likes it to be, she steps inside and closes the curtain before activating the shower head.

She lets out a soft groan as the scalding water cascades down her body. She closes her eyes, raking her slender fingers through her long, blonde hair. She grimaces when she feels how truly knotted and nasty her hair feels, no doubt a combination from her not washing it in a few days, and the amount of sweat that had accumulated on her head from her commute from her apartment, to school, to work, and back again. It also didn't help that she ties her hair back into a ponytail whenever she's at work, one that she had already yanked out as soon as she had clocked out. Well. It's nothing a little bit of the Honey, I Washed My Hair shampoo bar from Lush won't fix.

She doesn't keep track of how long she stayed in the shower for. All she knew was that it was long enough to give herself a good, solid scrub and allow the hot water to somewhat soothe her sore and tense muscles. She eventually turns the water off, heaving out a soft sigh through her nostrils before she opens the curtain. The entire bathroom is filled with steam, and, her mirror is obviously all fogged up because of it. She chuckles softly to herself, before stepping out of the tub and reaching for a fresh towel so that she can towel dry her hair before she goes to blow dry it. She always feels a little bit more human after a nice shower, and, this moment is no exception.

After her hair is dried, Chloe slowly patters her way towards her bedroom. She makes her way over towards her wardrobe, grabbing her favourite pair of flannel pyjama bottoms out of its designated drawer. She slides them on, making sure they're sitting where she likes them to sit before she makes her way over towards the closet. She decides to grab the "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" shirt that she had just splurged on not long ago, and she promptly slips it on. Ahh. Much better than that fucking awful uniform she has to wear for work. After she's dressed, she decides to go into the kitchen to make herself a quick cup of coffee. She has a few assignments that she needs to work on for some of her classes, but, her brain needs its fast juice before she sits her ass down and gets to work.

As strange as it is to be living on her own, in a whole new city and state...Chloe knows for a fact that she'll be okay. Sunnydale may be vastly different than Brooklyn, but, she's a strong girl with a good head on her shoulders. This is a new life for her. A fresh start. A chance for her to live a normal life. The normal life she never thought in a million years she would ever be able to achieve...

Or...so she thinks, anyways...

[antiquecompass]

So this is the second part in that Wen Ning/OC fic (first part here) and also for Untamed Winter Fest Day 8. (Eventually it’ll be up on Ao3, but I want to keep this one in order at least, for a little bit.)

Wen Ning wasn’t sure how to dress for a date that also included tire shopping and three of his students. Granted, he only taught gym, and only coached Aisling in archery, but still it was all a bit muddled. Not that he was complaining. At all. He was just a little out of his depth.

Okay, a lot out of it.

He still couldn’t believe last night had happened. He pressed his fingers to his lips as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He swore they still tingled from the feel of Aidan’s own against them. Mr. Tumnus, his white and orange tabby, was luckily the only other living being in the house who could judge him and the blush that just would not die down. 

He desperately wanted today to go well. 

He needed help.

“Just don’t wear all black,” Qingyang said before he could even greet her. “I mean, you like black, so you wear a lot of it, even among all that blue and white at Lan Academy. And it looks good on you, so you should, but today is special. So just don’t wear all black. Throw some color in there. A green. Hell, even a heather grey. A red. No, no, you’ll look too good. Save that for when the kiddos aren’t around.”

Wen Ning didn’t bother to hide his laughter as his sister’s indignant yell came down the line.

“For someone who had me--” Qingyang yelped and then her voice cut off. He heard a door slam shut and then his sister cursing under her breath.

“You love her dearly,” he reminded her.

“Yes,” Wen Qing said.

“And you often say she’s the best thing that ever happened to you,” he reminded her.

“After you, of course,” she corrected.

“She’s only trying to be helpful,” he said.

“She is, but she’s also trying to rile me up,” she said. Another closed door and then a start of the engine.

“Are you driving away? With her phone?”

“She has mine and she’ll catch up,” his sister said. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to you.”

“No, no, you’re in Boston,” he said. “The storm just finished an hour ago.”

“So I’ll be there in three hours,” she said. “When is he picking you up?”

“Noon,” he said.

“It’s seven. Plenty of time,” she said. He heard a loud noise and his sister sigh. “She caught up faster than I intended. I’ll still be there in three hours.”

“The hell you will,” Qingyang said. “The roads are for shit, the storm is moving east, and he needs to do this on his own.”

“But--”

“He’s a grown ass man,” Qingyang said. “Let him be a grown ass man.”

Wen Ning bit the inside of his bottom lip to hold back his laughter as he overheard the struggle. A final victorious cackle signaled that Qingyang had won.

“Definitely Facetime us the outfit choices,” she said. “And give poor Aidan some warning that she’s about to descend upon him like some overprotective fury. I think I’m able to hold her back this time, but she’s probably going to try and crash your second date.”

“Thank you,” Wen Ning said. “For everything.”

“That’s what future-sisters-in-law are for,” she said.

**********

After he’d settled on an outfit--dark green sweater, black jeans, boots that wouldn’t make him slip and fall and make a fool of himself--there had then been a long consultation on his hair. One that had brought Wei Wuxian in as well. They’d all agreed that he should leave it down, but with some strands pulled back from his face.

Gotta hit him with those puppy dog eyes.

That’s what Wei Wuxian had said, even as he went on a twenty-minute long rant about how Aidan was too nice to be human and was probably an archangel in disguise sent to judge the world. Or something. Wen Ning had stopped paying attention after Wei Wuxian and Qingyang started debating about the true forms of archangels.

He kept fidgeting with the tiny ponytail fixed at the back of his head. His hair was always either completely loose or completely up. He wasn’t used to it; he didn’t dislike it, but it was different enough, and enough of a distraction to make him forget his nerves even as Aidan arrived and started the drive into town.

His phone vibrated with a text from his sister.

Stop touching your hair!

He loved her. So much.

“Everything okay?” Aidan asked.

Wen Ning smiled and nodded. “Just my sister.”

“She’s a doctor right?” Aidan asked. “Qingyang’s girlfriend?”

“She is,” he said. “Pediatric surgeon."

"She's amazing!" Una said, the most excited he'd ever heard her. "She spoke at one of the special lectures and threatened to stick a needle in Mr. Lan-Wei's skull if he didn't stop fidgeting."

"They're really good friends," Wen Ning explained to Aidan. "They just have their own love language built on insults."

Aidan smiled at that as he turned onto the road for Mike's Automart. 

"Sounds like me and Catie," he said. "She's my eldest sister. First of all ten of us."

Wen Ning knew he was gaping and couldn't stop.

"Yes, ten," Aidan said. He glanced over at him and laughed, took one hand off the wheel and gently closed Wen Ning’s mouth.

"Told ya he was going to need a chart," Finn said. 

He was very definitely going to need a chart. Aisling's purple painted nails appeared at his side as she waved a sheet of graph paper at him.

"It's just our basic family tree. I ran out of room for cousins and in-laws, but that’s us."

Wen Ning took the paper and his eyes ran over the names. Liam Delaney married Mary Catherine Moore when they were nineteen. From there they had Caitlin, Aidan, Brian, Dermot, then twins Erin and Neve, an apparent long gap where they didn’t have any kids and then based on the birthdates Aisling provided, Una, Aisling, Finn, and Patrick, the youngest, at all of six years old.

“Okay, everybody out,” Aidan said as he took his keys out of the ignition.

“Can we get snacks?” Finn asked. 

“We’re going to lunch after this,” Aidan said.

“Yeah, but can we get snacks?” Una asked. 

“One candy bar each,” Aidan said. “And no soda,” he yelled after them as he followed the three out of the car.

Wen Ning carefully folded up Aisling’s family tree and was reaching for the door when Aidan opened it for him. 

“Hi,” he said.

“You’re very fast,” Wen Ning said. 

“Proper motivation,” Aidan said. He offered his hand up to help Wen Ning down.

“Despite my performance last night, I’m usually not that clumsy,” Wen Ning said. He took Aidan’s hand anyway.

“I know,” Aidan said. “I’ve seen you work. You’re very graceful, but you can’t blame a guy for trying to get five seconds of alone time before the Terrible Trio comes back.”

“No,” Wen Ning said. “I can’t.”

One of Aidan’s hands drifted up to his hair and softly tapped the small ponytail at the back of his head. 

“It’s a good look on you,” he said. “Different, but good.”

“Thanks,” he said, feeling that damned blush starting to come back.

“A.B., can we get the little trees?” Finn yelled from the storefront.

“You can each pick one,” Aidan yelled back.

“A.B.?” Wen Ning asked. He smiled to himself as Aidan’s other hand rested on the small of his back as they both walked towards the store, snow crunching under their feet.

“Aidan Brendan Delaney,” Aidan said. “My father’s called me A.B. for as long as I can remember, but it’s what of those family names, you know?”

Wen Ning nodded. He understood. “My granny. She calls me Qionglin sometimes. It’s the name she gave me after I started competing in archery. She wanted to boost my confidence. And while Wen Ning was a shy, awkward, stuttering mess, Wen Qionglin was a champion--would be a champion. It helped to settle my nerves, to put on that persona.”

“And which do you prefer?” Aidan asked as they lingered outside the store.

Wen Ning looked up into those kind, patient eyes and knew he could tell the truth.

“Part of me will always want that brash arrogance of Qionglin. It took me a long time, but I’m very happy--very proud--to be Wen Ning,” he said.

Aidan cupped his cheek. “If it matters at all, I definitely prefer Wen Ning.”

“It matters,” he said, almost desperate to kiss him again, but not here, in front of an entire store of people looking out at them. “It matters a lot.”

The door opened and a middle-aged man, Mike by his nametag, grinned at them, a phone to his ear.

“Aidan, something you’ve been meaning to tell your Uncle Mikey?” he asked.

“My mother’s on the phone, isn’t she?” Aidan asked.

“She wants to know if you finally pulled your head out of your ass and ‘asked that nice young man out.’” He glanced between them, a huge grin on his face. “Can I tell her it’s a yes?”

Aidan sighed and rested his forehead against Wen Ning’s own. “So, in addition to having shit hours, being responsible for the Terrible Trio, I  also have a family that doesn’t understand personal boundaries.”

Wen Ning daringly pulled back and pressed a quick kiss to Aidan’s lips before he could lose his nerve. 

“I understand,” he said. “You’ll meet my sister soon, and understand just how much I get it.”

“They’re adorable,” Mike said into the phone.

“Give me that,” Aidan said, grabbing the phone. “Uncle Mikey, he needs a replacement tire and a spare for a Subaru Outback 2014 2.5i Limited.” He held the phone against his chest and swooped in for another, soft, quick, sweet kiss. “Don’t worry about Uncle Mikey, he’s nicer and smarter than he looks.”

“Hey, I got some of your baby pictures in the back, A.B. I’ll break them out and show your boy, if you don’t watch that mouth of yours.”

Aidan patted his uncle’s cheek and then walked into the store, phone to his ear.

“Ma? What’re you doin? Come on.”

Mike gestured for him to come inside. The Trio were in front of a rack of air fresheners debating on scents. Aidan had wandered over to a shelf of cushion covers. Two of the shop assistants waved at him, while a woman over in the waiting area sat with a toy-sized poodle in her lap.

Mike brought him over to what seemed like an entire wall of tires. 

He never knew there were so many different types.

Mike patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ve got it. Why don’t you try to help save my air freshener display? Aidan's going to be stuck on that phone for at least twenty minutes, knowing my sister."

Wen Ning had never been happier in his life to be around tree-shaped car air fresheners. 

Aisling handed him her phone. “Uncle Mikey won’t break out the goods, but all the baby pictures are in the family Cloud.” She swiped through various family photos before stopping on one. “I call this the self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Little Aidan, a too-big fireman’s helmet on his head, and a stuffed dalmatian under his arm. It was absolutely precious.

“Want me to send you a copy, Coach?” Aisling asked.

“It’s too quiet over there,” Aidan said. “What are you up to?” He turned his attention back to the phone. “I’m not being suspicious, Ma. Of course, I trust them. No, I only said that once. If you’d seen what they’d done to the kitchen you’d swear they were the devil’s spawn too.I don’t know, Ma, do you have something to tell me? What? No. Ma. Don’t you dare. Please. I take it back.”

Wen Ning’s phone started blowing up with text messages from an unknown number. Containing a plethora of childhood photos. Awkward and embarrassing and sweet ones, too.

He showed the number to Aisling.

“That’s Erin’s number,” she said. “Wow. I haven’t even seen some of these. There are pre-braces pictures in here! I thought Aidan burned all of those!”