#((That and he blends in easier in the crowd. No one will bother him for being Gym Leader Cheren in a Yancy concert.))

[antihibikase-archive]

Wanted to make some more outfits for Cheren, so I made one inspired by Deco*27′s Vampire Miku! Just imagine Rosa and Elesa dressed him up for a concert..

[tacitoru]

pleaser (2) - gojo satoru ; geto suguru

pairing: gojo satoru/reader/geto suguru

summary: You wish someone would have told you how lonely college would be. Classmates and other students outside the newspaper staff keep you at arm's length. People tend to give you a wide berth. It's no big deal - for a journalist, you are laughably not a people person. Small talk makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Relationships are tedious. People are finicky and prone to lying. Unreliable. Getting close to the star players on the university's basketball team was only supposed to be a means to an end. And then it's a little more than that.

rating: explicit (eventual smut)

tw: basketball!au, enemies to lovers, journalism

wc: 4k

ch: 2/5

read on ao3

Then

“Your eyes will get stuck like that.” 

Your editor-in-chief is not at all surprised to find you sulking. Shoulders slumped, arms crossed as you glare petulantly across the foyer of the student union. You don’t play aloof very well.

She stands shoulder to shoulder with you and follows your gaze. 

In the distance, two basketball players donning signature sky blue jerseys draw a crowd near the student government office. They stand out among the sea of milling students like skyscrapers. The swath of unnaturally white - surely he wasn’t born like that? - hair on the tallest one is even less helpful in helping him blend in. A few passerby stutter in their steps trying to catch a glimpse of their faces. The young men have their backs to where the pair of you observe, in the middle of addressing the small audience. A mix of student government and faculty, the source of your ire stands amongst them. Kento Nanami stands at the head of the crowd with his smartphone in one hand and a tape recorder in the other held just slightly above the sea of heads. His blond hair and crisp blue button-up make him easy to pick out from the gang of suits. 

When snark doesn’t draw your full attention, Utahime calls your name instead. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

Furrowing your lips, your frown deepens. “Who the fuck even carries around a real tape recorder anymore? Does he not have the app on his phone?”

Your pseudo-boss shoulder checks you. Never one to miss an opportunity to play morality police. “Don’t be obnoxious,” she admonishes in what you think she thinks is her gentlest tone. “Not everybody has a smartphone.”

“He’s holding one, Utahime,” you snark back. 

The animosity catches you both off guard. You’re not typically one to be confrontational. In all of your years on the university’s newspaper staff, you’d suppose you’re akin to a fly on the wall. A floater, you’ve moved from section to section at the dismissal of the lead editors each year. It wasn’t that you were an incompetent writer so much as it was that no topic seemed to really stick with you. Student leadership wouldn’t let you go if they could help it - it was easier to keep and train staff members than to recruit. But they would never promote you - there was always somebody who fit the bill just a little bit better, who wrote with a little more flare. You were nearing the end of your senior year anyway. It was too late to even consider.

You’ve never really minded - never minded anything at all, really. The fact that almost all of the leadership was a year younger than you. Or the fact that you were consistently assigned fluff writing. That you had been skipped time and time again for any chance at covering anything more important than the carpets in the library being updated from green to gray, or minor changes to a dining hall’s dietary restrictions.

A perfect passive participant on staff, you follow all the rules. Do every story they assign you. More often than not, it’s the ones nobody else wants to bother with. They offer you some sort of loose camaraderie in return; a pat on the shoulder, a lukewarm invite to be a plus one to a holiday party. All of the necessary tools for social survival in college.  The news, cultures, and opinion columns shuffled you around semester by semester like a cumbersome stage prop. Comfortably standing in the shadow of your peers. You never ask for anything.

So you decide to be a little nicer to Utahime, to whom all this attitude must be coming out of left field.  

Never taking your eyes off the crowd, you ask with a little less bite, “Did they tell you when the press conference is yet?”

They , as in the athletics department, had been keeping zip tight on the details of the university basketball team’s newest arrivals since they had touched down in the States over the weekend. The pair of you watch as the shorter one, a young man (albeit still a full head taller than most of his audience) with black gauges and his hair pulled into a bun, delivers a short comment that causes a laugh to ripple through their onlookers. You think you see even Nanami, of all people, crack a smile. It’s hard to tell for sure from this distance.

It wasn’t unusual for the staff on the student newspaper to share tips and ideas or track events on campus together, but it’s irregular for you to be among them. There was no need to ask for help when your stories were practically written out for you. Today however, you had kept a keen eye out for your fellow writers on campus, ear to the ground all morning as you sought out some kind of - any kind of - hook that could solidify your claim to what was sure to be one of the most memorable feature story of the year: the athletics department's annual exchange student program.

“Do they allow players to wear gauges on the court?”

“You’re asking me a lot of questions for somebody that’s not assigned to this beat.” Utahime sighs. The awkward moment rolls off her shoulders with an ease you’re becoming familiar with. “I’m not giving you a press pass.”

“I - okay?” You wilt a little, shoulders slumped as Utahime takes the next question right out of your mouth. “I didn’t even say anything. That’s not even what I asked.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it all over your face-,” You duck the graze of her knuckle as she moves to brush a faux tear, but the unimpressed look on her face remains. “But no. I haven’t heard anything from the coaches yet.”

You try and fail to hide your disappointment. You refuse to pout in front of your boss. Utahime had a softer spot for you than most of your fellow staff members - as a writer who had been on staff for so long with little to no promotion or department to call home in all four years of your college career, whispers of questions around the validity of keeping you on staff started to circulate well into the winter semester.

“Why were you so interested in doing this feature anyway? I got the feeling you didn’t like writing for this kind of stuff.” You never ask for favors; she tells you as much. “I’m just surprised, is all.” 

From your peripheral, Utahime looks at you curiously, a hand on her chin. Maybe it was because she was a year younger than you, and pitied the disposition she found you in after being elected into the chief position. But even that softness only went so far.

You shake your head, still watching the crowd from across the lobby. The taller basketball player, the white-haired guy, sticks out among the crowd like a dandelion, bending and swaying to an invisible breeze while he crowds into the space of his teammate. You crinkle your nose - his posture is surprisingly terrible.

“Kind of stuff?”

“Y’know, just - sports? Your strong suits have been more like…like, what kinds of water bottles have been popular on campus! Oh, or that listicle you did of all of the best fall-themed soundtracks-,”

“-that we published in the spring -,” 

Utahime waves you off. “That’s not the point.” 

She launches into a reassuring ramble, throwing a hand up when you don’t start to look any more appeased. The motion seems to catch Nanami’s attention from across the foyer’s open floor. He doesn’t crack a smile, but waves at the pair of you with his phone-holding hand, polite as ever. You wave back. When he turns away, your pout melts into a grimace. Tuning Utahime out, your eyes wander back to the head of the crowd, only to choke on your gasp. You’ve also inadvertently caught the attention of one of the exchange students - and he looks pissed . 

From where he stands, the white-haired wonder boy has twisted the whole top half of his body to bless you with the ugliest look of contempt you’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing in your short life. He only rights himself when his dark-haired teammate corrals his focus back to the congregation ahead of them with a gentle hand on his shoulder. It’s enough of an interruption to make you turn your whole back on the entire debacle in embarrassment.

Utahima continues to do her best impression of placating you, hands folded above her chest as she pleads. “- And, you know, it would just be a lot easier for everybody, really, to give this to somebody who already knows if players are allowed to wear gauges on the court, and other frivolous shit like that instead of wasting time asking me.”

You make a noise like a laugh through your nose, thinking of what she considers your strong suits. “Okay.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the objects of your interest begin to make their way out of the front of the building, enticing their crowd of university staff and students along with them. An underclassman tries to give the white-haired man a high-five in passing. He dismisses him with a shrug. Your resolve wavers. You follow all the rules. You never ask for anything.

“Look,” Utahime begins in a tone that makes you think uh oh. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re a capable writer. I hated turning you down so publicly at the staff meeting, and there’s no doubt that your contributions to the paper have been -,” she searches for a word “- impactful to our student body. But I need somebody who’s going to do this feature, um, quietly. I mean look how much attention those two are drawing and it’s not even time for lunch yet.” 

Two girls run straight into each other, phones clattering to the ground, their eyes glued to the spectacle making its way out of the building. You can’t help but snicker, a little less forlorn. Requesting to cover the feature story for the exchange students had been the first time you had stuck your neck out for yourself, only to be succinctly rejected in front of your peers. Utahime hadn’t even the decency to pretend to hesitate. At least you’re not the only one making a fool of yourself today.

Utahime fixes you with a look that makes you straighten up a little, all business.

“I want to get this right the first time, and it’s already going to be hard between the fangirls, the fanboys , and the limited press access during the season. Can you promise me that you won’t try to butt in?”

In lieu of answering Utahime’s question, you ask, “You’ll let me know when they do, right? When you hear back from them.”

Somehow, she manages to glare harder.

You suck your teeth, sigh, and relent, “I promise.”

The editor-in-chief doesn't look entirely convinced, but the severe expression on her face relaxes nonetheless. “There’s no need to worry,” Utahime’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she turns on her heels as she checks the notification, effectively closing the conversation. “Nanami will do this piece justice.”

The two exchange students stride towards the exit, seemingly now caught up in their own little world as they chuckle amongst themselves, hardly minding the entourage that follows. The afternoon sun floods the glass double doors with a bright light, and you watch after them as they push through. 

“But that’s what I’m worried about,” you mumble, resign, and follow her into the office.

You wish someone would have told you how lonely college would be. 

Classmates and people outside of the newspaper staff tended to keep you at arm's length once they learned of your extracurriculars, mostly for fear of one day seeing themselves among the crisp pages of the biweekly print. It was all in vain; in your four years being juggled between columns, you had never aired out anyone’s dirty laundry. You were diligent in your moral code, however gray. People tended to give you a wide berth nonetheless.

It was no sweat off your back - for a journalist you are laughably not a people person. Small talk made you want to crawl out of your skin. Relationships were tedious. People were finicky and prone to lying. Unreliable. Their stories, however - actually, maybe just as much so, but that was an entirely different thrill. And yet as graduation crept closer, your lackluster portfolio mocked you far worse than your meager contacts list. Submitting job applications felt like shooting blanks at a target while blindfolded. You needed a miracle - and fast. 

It’s just your luck that the evening you are the last to lock up the student newspaper office, two miraculous things happen at once: the lead sports editor forgets his press pass at his desk just as two of Japan’s highest-ranking athletes in men’s college basketball officially announce their transfer to your institution as part of some long-running good-will exchange program.

The first anomaly is sports editor Kento Nanami’s sudden bout of forgetfulness. In his rush to make it to the press conference early, he had left the badge on his desk. You’re nice enough to promise to drop by the auditorium where it’s being held, telling him as much over text. Your peer responds with the same level of dryness you’ve come to associate with him.

Thanks. Read 6:46 PM.

The whole thing already felt like a bad omen.

Enter anomaly number two, the two Japanese exchange students joining your school’s record-holding Division One basketball team for the year. The news had spread like wildfire across the campus of your large liberal arts college before it had even reached the newspaper. It was never a matter of why the exchange program was happening.

The university boasted an extremely impressive men’s basketball team that dominated the American college league in every sense of the word. Armed with a history of individuals who went on to become some of the highest-paid athletes in the NBA and a team of coaches with a tremendous wealth of experience, your sleepy liberal arts school has made a name for itself in the world of college-level athletics. It was inevitable that other institutions would want a piece of the pie, and Tokyo University had long established their in.

It was never a matter of why, but who.

They’re gorgeous. Inarguably so. A pair of athletes in a league of their own amongst their peers both in the States and on their home turf, both parties of which you’ve witnessed trip over themselves in a clumsy dichotomy of disdainful and overbearing eagerness already in the short time you’ve spent observing the team. Youthful, dripping raw athleticism, handsome beyond words, and worst of all, they know it - the smarmy one with shocking white hair tells you as much when you meet for the first time in the elevator.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Satoru Gojo had every right to be brash and vainglorious. More popularly referred to by his last name, the famed shooting guard from Kyoto boasts an impressive track record under his belt, stats that put even the shiniest American college basketball players to shame. His inhuman height and athleticism make him a living nightmare to oppose. The strongest , the tabloids and play-by-play sports podcasts had labeled him. Even Nanami, of all people, had described him as a monster on the court. The lead sports editor is not the type to give compliments lightly - if that could even be considered one. But if Satoru Gojo is scary on paper, he’s fucking terrifying in person.

Heat crawls up your neck, and spills onto your cheeks, your gaze quickly returns to the floor. “Sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed. Without even having introduced yourself, you’ve somehow managed to tick him off twice in the span of a few days. 

It seems as though the universe has a sense of humor tonight. You had rushed across campus to the auditorium, press pass held in your iron-fisted grip in an attempt to beat the clock. Only to end up in the elevator crammed between the very two people you’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of on your way out. While you had been hoping for some sort of miracle to be tossed your way, this..this was…

Caught off guard and underprepared, you feel brittle like a leaf in the wind under the shared weight of their gaze. Later, when you playback the recording on your phone in your pocket, you pretend not to notice when you hear your voice shake.

Suguru Getou, the other exchange student and equally formidable athlete, admonishes his teammate softly. The one who, now that you’re standing close enough to confirm, does indeed wear black gauges. His hair is loose from its bun today, inky locks tossed carelessly over one shoulder.  They both don the university’s signature jerseys once again, the cleanest they’ll probably be all season. “Satoru, please.” 

Satoru . You make note of the use of his given name, spoken gently and laced with amusement, like a parent scolding a wayward child.

You might almost believe Suguru to be sympathetic if he also didn’t look one slick comment away from laughing at your discomfort. 

“What?” His teammate flat-out whines, having complete disregard for politeness - and personal space, apparently. He reaches over and flicks the piece of plastic clutched in your hand suddenly enough that it makes you flinch.

“Ain’t this a press pass? I’m just sayin’. They’ve got, like, a whole hour to do this shit.” Gojo gripes, scratching his head. In perfect English, they talk around you. Over you, like you’re just some physical inconvenience in the middle of a conversation they were already having. You probably are. Recognizing this doesn’t make your heart race any slower.

Out of the corner of your eye, the elevator ticks closer to the mezzanine floor, where you know Kento is waiting for you. This is your chance, this is your chance!

Like an idiot, you stumble over your words, trying for something between a convincing protest and solid introduction, quickly shoving the pass into the pocket that’s empty. “No, not all! Um, actually, I did have a few-,”

The elevator dings, announcing your arrival. Internally, you swear. Twice your build and stature, Gojo shoulders you on the way out without a second glance, nearly rocking you off of your feet.  Over his shoulder, he wags his finger at you. “Ah, ah, no head starts.”

Suguru is at least polite enough to offer a smile, albeit one you can’t determine if it's sympathetic or pitiful. He gives you a once over, so quickly you might have imagined it. “Good luck out there.”

Stepping out into the hall, you watch half-stunned as the two teammates swagger in the opposite direction of your destination, off to where you assume their coach and athletic staff await. 

Could you have possibly fumbled the ball any harder? You fiddle with your phone on the way to where Kento said he was last sitting, pausing your recording.  Fumble? No, that’s football. What’s the basketball equivalent..?

Your colleague paces anxiously in the top row of the mezzanine, waiting for you to pass off his badge. If you had been paying close enough attention, you might even say he was nervous for once. Any other day, that’d be something you’d revel in. But tonight, caught up in your train of thought, you miss the look that crosses his face when you hand him the press pass without so much as a greeting. 

“Are you okay?” He asks warily, more so out of obligation than kindness. You remember with stark clarity where he had been sitting at the staff meeting when Utahime rejected your request to cover the story - his stoic, unflinching expression when she announced it had been assigned to him. You had hardly been able to look him in the eye since. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What do you call a fumble in basketball?”

Kento goes from overly cautious to puzzled. “...A fumble?”

“Ah.”

From where the pair of you stand at the height of the auditorium, the press gathered on the lower level look like a hungry, writhing mob. You observe them as they prepare for your esteemed guests, each armed with microphones and totting cameras with flash attachments the size of your fist. They face a backdrop littered with sponsorship logos, two seats, and an unimpressive table decorated in your school’s colors and laden with more microphones.

Kento moves to head to the elevator, only to hesitate at your contemplative look.

“Does this…” he sighs and starts over, fiddling with the pass slung around his neck. “I can’t bring you with me down there.”

“I know.”

“Or to any of the games.”

“I know.”

“Or interviews.”

You glance up, facing him full-on for the first time in days. Scanning his features for any sign of mockery. “...Okay.”

“But between this and the rest of the sports for this season, I’ve got my hands full.” On stage, the head coach appears to greet the slew of reporters, thanking them for coming out tonight. He begins to say a few words about the exchange students and the history of the exchange program. Kento’s eye twitches - you can feel him getting antsy. “I’m fine taking notes, but I could use some help with the drafting.”

A feeling wells up inside your chest. Amid all of the dejection, the disappointment, the worry - a glimmer of hope had appeared. Somebody was finally giving you a chance.

He offers his hand but you’re slow to take it. Eyes narrowed, you tell him rather than ask, “And I get credit.”

“Partial,” he acquiesces. “And we’ll be on the front page.”

The clamor beneath you begins to grow louder, and your colleague lurches back like he’ll jump over the balcony if that's what it will take to make it down there on time. Steel-eyed, you snatch Kento’s hand in yours before he can take anything back. 

“Deal.”

The crowd below you erupts into a thunderous roar of cheers. 

<< prev.

[stellar-skyy]

DANCE WITH ME! - Platonic Freminet & reader

i. SUMMARY: Freminet dances with his sibling. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Implied sensory overload. iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, found family, older sibling!reader, fluff, slight hurt/comfort(?), gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.5k words. iv. A/N: I really wanted to get this out because it's the last time I have time to write for like a week, so I'm sorry if it seems rushed. ;-; This is technically a continuation of my other Freminet fic, the warmth of home, set much further in the future.

Freminet stood against the furthest wall of the ballroom, holding a glass with both hands and hoping if he huddled close enough into the corner he would become one with the wallpaper itself.

Lyney was dazzling guests on the other side of the room, a luminous smile on his lips and no shortage of charm dripping from his words. A clever magic trick here, a whisper of sweet words there, and half of the party had fallen for him. Lynette stood beside him: silent, but still carrying her own unique charm. She might not be as flashy as Lyney, but she still was one the guests fawned over, for her quiet charisma and peculiar demeanour.

Freminet wasn’t originally on the guestlist of the party, only being added at the last minute as a ‘thank you’ from the hotel owner for fixing some bits of machinery within the walls of the hotel. And even then, it took Lyney convincing him to make a polite appearance to drag him away from the sea—the place he was planning on spending that night instead.

They’d arrived as a group, being greeted warmly by the host. It took about three minutes for Lyney to be swept away by a crowd of adoring fans of his performances, Lynette following close behind as she always did, and Freminet—

Freminet was left alone. 

It wasn’t as if being overlooked was a new experience for him. Lyney and Lynette thrived in the spotlight, while all Freminet did was wilt, so they were content keeping the attention away from him. It was easier that way; he could blend into the shadows and retreat back into his own mind, where there was no one to disturb him. He didn’t care about being ignored by the guests.

(He just didn’t want to be ignored by his siblings.)

Freminet clutched the glass tightly in his hands. He was still too young to drink, so when he was handed the glass of wine by a passing waiter, Lynette was quick to swoop over and swap it with a glass of water instead, before returning to her twin’s side.  

The music had gotten louder, the orchestra playing a more upbeat song than the ballad that had preceded it. It was an enjoyable sound in theory, but the sheer volume of it—combined with the overlapping chatter in the room, thick smell of wine, and bustling crowds—made it sound like they were playing their violins with knives. They scraped along the strings, a metallic screeching echoing across the ballroom.

Why didn’t anyone else look bothered by the noise? Was he the only one who could hear it?

“—eminet? Freminet?”

The voice cut through the other noise in his ears, letting his attention fall directly on the concerned look of the person in front of him. He stumbled backwards slightly—when did they get so close?

“Freminet, are you okay?” (Name) repeated, a furrow in their brow. “I’ve been calling for you and you haven’t responded.”

“I-I’m okay, it’s just…” He swallowed, looking back down at the glass of water in his hands. “…very loud.”

Their eyes widened in understanding. “Do you want to me to take you somewhere quieter?”

He nodded, shrinking back into himself. Disappearing acts were more his brother’s specialty, but he wouldn’t mind being whisked away for a while. And of course, it wasn’t polite to make his sibling escort him out of the party, but the noise was so dreadful that he couldn’t even bring himself to feel self-conscious about it.

(Name) brought him through the crowd, dodging both guests and waiters as they led him past the dancefloor, up the stairs and out a set of double doors. The two emerged onto a balcony, almost being knocked back by the biting wind.

“Here. We can stay as long as you like.” They said, sliding down against the railing to sit cross-legged on the floor. Cautiously, Freminet did the same.

“It’s much quieter here.” He muttered to himself, before addressing (Name) again. “Won’t you be missing the party?”

“It’s okay,” they said easily. “I was pretty tired myself.”

The music was still audible through to the balcony, reverberating through the walls in a muted symphony. As minutes passed, it shifted in tone from joyful melodies to a slower waltz.

Through the window they could see through to the bottom floor, where Lyney still entertaining guests. As the music changed, he looked over at Lynette with a tilt of his head. She blinked back at him and nodded slightly, taking his hand as he extended it to her. Their ability to communicate without a single word was always something that puzzled Freminet, but seeing the guest’s confused reactions made him think it was just something that only made sense to the two of them.

“What are they doing?” Freminet mumbled, watching Lyney lead Lynette to the centre of the dance floor.

“They’re going to dance together.” (Name) replied, also observing the pair. Sure enough, Lyney let go of Lynette’s hand long enough to shift it to the middle of her back, clasping their other hands together and sweeping across the floor.

“They look so elegant…”

(Name) hummed in agreement.

“I think I would have liked to dance. Not in front of everyone, though.” Freminet said quietly. (Name) was quiet for a beat, before abruptly standing up.

“I guess it’s good we’re alone out here, then.”

“Huh?” He blinked at them.

“Dance with me!” They stuck out their hand, a grin across their face.

“R-Right now?” He glanced around himself, as if there were guests loitering around the corner, ready to scoff at him at any moment. “But we’re outside, and I don’t—”

“We can still hear the music from out here,” They reasoned, not moving their hand. “It’s just me. There’s no one out here to stare at you.”

“I’m not that good.” Freminet frowned, looking back at Lyney and Lynette twirling across the floor. More guests had swarmed to the dancefloor following their lead, pairs spinning and dancing across the ballroom. The dance seemed easy enough to follow, and Lynette had run him through the basic steps of the waltz ‘in case of emergency’…

Before he could think about it too hard, Freminet had laced his fingers around his siblings and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. (Name) rested their other hand in the middle of his back, while he hesitantly placed his on top of their shoulder.

In time with the music, Freminet was pulled across the balcony in a gentle rhythm. They glided round in a gradual circle, in time to the tempo of the music echoing outside.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

On the third beat, Freminet faltered, almost stepping on (Name)’s feet before he caught himself. He ducked his head in embarrassment, watching his feet carefully to make sure he didn’t accidentally stumble.

The dance was slightly awkward with their inexperience, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The music was faint in his ears, the crowd was a distant memory, and all he could pay attention to was how light he felt. This must be how Lyney and Lynette feel when they’re together; like he was free to let the weights slide off his shoulders and just simply exist, without worrying about the other’s judgement. He’d never have his other half like they had, but he had (Name) and that was good enough.

They let go of the hand across his back, stepping back to spin him around in a twirl. The movement made him slightly dizzy, but they were right there to grab onto him and make sure he didn’t fall. To think, his plans changed from diving into the ocean and not emerging until the early morning to dancing a waltz on a balcony with his sibling. The entire thing…

It was rather absurd, wasn’t it?

A giggle escaped his lips, then another and another until he could hardly breathe through the laughter. His sibling was staring at him like he’d gone mad, and with good reason. Freminet wasn’t one for emotion—he liked to think of himself as an impassive and cold, free from needless feelings. It wasn’t in his nature to smile often or laugh.

But (Name) soon fell into their own fit of giggles, as if catching a contagion. Their steps stumbled and faltered, until they’d collapsed against each other. Freminet looked up at them, an open smile twisting his features into something almost unrecognisable. There was a warmth spreading across his chest, akin to the exhilaration he got whenever he first dove into the water.

“Do you want to go back inside?” They asked, stepping back to lean against the railing. Freminet hesitated.

He could see through the glass that the twins had finished their dance, Lyney whispering to Lynette while scanning the room in a look Freminet knew to be the face he made whenever he was hiding how troubled he was. His eyes swept around the guests—looking for the two of them, it seemed. Logically, he knew he should go back inside to at least let them know he was okay, and hadn’t just vanished into the sea like he usually did. It would be the polite thing to do.

But he had his sibling with him. And the wind was a pleasant coldness against his cheeks.

“It’s peaceful out here.” He said quietly. “Let’s… stay a little bit longer.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[writeforfandoms]

Here have an untitled fae drabble

Warnings: manipulative 141, they're fae, they're hunters, implied eating people, hunting people, possessive language, this is NOT my usual fluff. Proceed at your own risk.

No descriptors used for female MC/reader.

Word count: 728

Of all of them, Soap was the best at luring humans to the stones.

He passed as human the best of them, could blend easily among crowds and parties. Humans found his eyes enchanting, rather than dangerous.

For a while, they'd made a game of it. Ghost dropped out first, grumbling about appearances and work. Price was next, amused more than disappointed. He knew his limits, had been around longer than any of them.

Which left Gaz and Soap.

Gaz was good, no doubt about it. He could charm humans with his words and his smiles, hiding the sharp points of his teeth.

But he still couldn't beat Soap for numbers.

Price had put a stop to their little game when they'd taken too many, when the locals got nervous and skittish, when authorities got involved. It was in everyone's best interests to keep out of that.

It was something of a point of pride for Soap. Providing for them. Guiding humans to the stones, and then through. Any human would do,

It certainly didn't hurt that Soap enjoyed hunting. Enjoyed going to bars and clubs and colleges, enjoyed the press and din of humanity, enjoyed the thrill of finding the perfect prey.

Gaz had split up a while back, going to find his own prey for the night. Soap didn't doubt he'd succeed, with a party like this. They'd be back before sunrise to the stones, as always.

But Soap wasn't thinking about Gaz. Soap was thinking about the lovely thing he wanted to play with.

She was lovely, her laugh drawing him in. She was also with friends, and seemed reluctant to stray from them.

That was fine. Soap liked a bit of a challenge.

He finally had his opportunity when the group of them started dancing, moving to the open space. His chosen plaything hovered around the edges, uncertain but still having fun.

He just had to bump into her to strike up a conversation.

But oh he wasn't prepared for the guarded way she watched him, the caution in her eyes, the practiced tilt of her smile.

Someone had hurt her before, that much was clear. He knew the signs. He'd seen them and studied them before.

After all, sometimes damaged prey was easier to hunt.

But not this one. No, this one… this one was clever. She gave him only a nickname, politely declined a drink, kept space between them. She might not know what she was dealing with, but she was good.

His teeth ached with the desire to mark her.

One of her friends threw herself at him, blonde hair in artful disarray from dancing, wide hips just asking to be bruised.

Soap wasn't one to turn down such willing prey.

But he didn't want the blonde. He wanted his chosen human.

That was alright. If he couldn't have her tonight… he'd find another time.

The blonde stumbled off to the bathroom, and Soap found his chosen again. She was still watching him, eyes bright and focused, not even a hint of haze to them.

Waiting for him to fuck up with her friend, perhaps.

He rubbed his fingers against his lips, going through scenarios and discarding them just as quickly.

Until she surprised him, walking up to him, bold as anything.

“You never told me your name.” It wasn't a demand, but the words had a little bite to them.

Soap grinned. “Ye can call me Soap,” he said, holding out his hand, the tips of his fingers buzzing.

She eyed him for a moment, debating, before she took his hand, smaller fingers folding over his skin. “Nice to meet you,” she said, though she didn't exactly sound thrilled. That was okay. Soap was busy pressing his fingers to her skin. “Hey–”

The blonde had excellent timing this time, stumbling up to his side. Soap released his chosen to settle his arm over the blonde's shoulders instead. He didn't bother listening to the exchange between the two women. There was no point.

He did pay attention as his chosen turned away, her hand flexing and clenching. For a moment, he let his sight slip. Just enough to see the mark he'd left on her skin.

Satisfied, he finally turned his attention to the blonde. Just because he couldn't have his chosen didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun tonight…

[cialovesklopp]

DRESS ➺ k.mbappé

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — a day at home with red wine in the mix, always guarantees for an eventful night with heavy feelings developing in the mix

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — kylian mbappé x amara imani (oc)

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 6.2k

𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 — dress [taylor swift]

mon amour — masterlist

amara imani would like to take her statement back. she did not hate her life anymore.

since the arrival of the french striker in her life, a lot of things had taken a tour around for her. he had taken such a big place in it, he had even managed to change her perspective on her own situation. in the one and a half months they had known each other, kylian had become her closest friend and ally. 

the moment kylian had texted her, they had immediately taken off where they had left. conversation with him was easy and she never felt the pressure of having to fit someone’s image of her. he made it comfortable. the feeling of deep drowning in the sea started to become less and less, and breathing got easier. 

but next to that, he had also been there for her, emotionally and physically. whenever she had been down due to the press still trashing her in every of their articles, he had been the one she called. for every rant, every breakdown and every support, he had been the one on the other end of the line. to cheer her up, the two would spend nights watching rom-coms and eating take-out which usually went against his diets but he couldn’t care less. all that mattered to him was that she smiled again. 

that had also been why he had helped her so much with her new apartment. the guilt of renting out a stranger’s apartment as a favor had been eating her up alive so amara had been very happy about kylian’s advice to help her buy one when she had told him about her feelings. usually, he was not one for apartment hunts and hated redecorating, hence why his mother had decorated his home and yet for her, he was willing to get dirty with paint or spend hours in ikea. 

the furnishing of her apartment itself had been largely inspired by pinterest, which kylian had found great pleasure teasing her about. but amara had just ignored him, loving the end result of her apartment. looking around her home, she knew it had all been worth it. the softness of her simple couch, the beige tone of her walls that blended perfectly with the rays of sunshine falling down on her room plant -- she loved every inch of her apartment. 

the sound of the tv played in the back as she read her book calmly. the scent of cinnamon spread through the room, the perfumed candle burning on the small modern table in front of her. snuggling into her couch as she continued to read, she enjoyed the comfort her home extended. it was impossible to not feel a sense of affiliation. 

she was also feeling very welcomed in paris. she found herself very surprised when she remarked she was not bothered by the loud, crowded streets and noises from the busy city. instead she loved living in the french capital, loving its energy and the possibility to speak french again and lose her accent she had caught during her time in england. although she had not made any new friends or acquaintances in paris, putting herself in a lock-down to not draw any unwanted attention to herself, she had settled well into the city.

even funnier was that, since kylian’s arrival in her life, the fact that her career was crashing down, did not bother her as much as it had a month ago. before their encounter, she used to think, her career and voice where all she had, that she was nothing more than that but Kylian had definitely changed that. he had done more than that — he had changed the way she viewed herself. he liked her for being Amara, just Amara and not the personality she wore in public where she was reduced to her voice. 

his aura was just different. but a good different, the kind that lightened everyone’s heart just at the thought of it. he was nothing she had experienced before but it was something amara wanted to bask in. 

just thinking of him spread warmth through her body. he reminded her of a ray of old light that shone at the end of the tunnel, the signal that something better was coming. 

snuggling her legs closer to her body and covering it with her soft, woolen cardigan, she listened mildly to the sound of the birds twittering, a book in hand and no regard or care for the world outside her apartment. except her book and him, nothing else was on her mind. her mind rested in a peaceful state that nothing could bring it out at the moment. 

or so she thought. her moment of silence, quiet solitude and inner peace of mind got disrupted brutally with the sound of her phone ringing, tearing her out of her state of tranquility. there was some annoyance present, outweighed by hesitance as she picked up the phone, ready to face grace again for some bad news. a smile showed up on her face though, when she read kylian’s name on the caller id, relief and annoyance vanishing in an instant. 

she closed her book, putting it down beside her and accepted the call quickly, happy to hear what kylian was about to tell her over the phone. 

“hey kylian,” amara greeted him on the phone, her voice coming out soft and tender. 

“bonjour mara, comment as été ta journée?” he asked, his voice matching the tone she had given him, warmth spreading through the phones.

“actually good — till you called,” she joked, grinning widely at the nickname she had been given by him. “i’m just kidding, it was okay. spend the day reading. i swear, that book was so dusty, because it’s been so long till i bought it. 

“still more productive than me.” he laughed, amara feeling the whole room illuminating just by the sound of it. 

“what can i say?  you spend the day, running after a ball. can’t be that hard,” she retorted sarcastically.

“i haven’t seen you get an offer, where they pay you 82 million per year,”

“that’s because people pay me to see my voice and not the amount of times i net a ball into a net.” she snapped back casually, “anyway, before i get meaner, how was training?”

“comme d’habitude,” kylian replied, waiting a bit before asking his next question, “what do you think of going out for dinner? it’s my treat.”

his question started a war in her. even though her heart started racing and she felt excited at his offer, she hesitated. amara was reluctant to go out again. the fear of being caught in the public and making new headlines scared her more than she had imagined. 

she muted the call, contemplating with herself whether she was ready to step back into the public again. the press were dying for a picture of her again, and amara knew they were ruthless enough to do everything for it. every of her next moves after the cheating scandal were watched with the biggest scrutiny, critics and journalists ready to attack her at the next faux pas. 

there was anxiety deep down in her, an insecurity, created by the press and headlines she had to endure in the past weeks. she struggled with leaving her home, even if it was just to go to the next local bakery. there was a constant battle between her and the public, tearing her down everyday, the fear of destroying her career and reputation even further was bigger than her desire to move on -- she wanted to, desperately but she felt her reluctance. she was afraid. 

she wished for the return of normality in her life but her fear of damaging her career outweighed her desire for it. and amara knew, her fright of being caught outside would ruin the dinner kylian had planned for them. instead of focusing on him, she would be distracted, her attention divided between the looking out for press and the man in front of him. and he didn’t deserve that — kylian deserved a normal first date. 

“je suis tellement désolée,” she began, falling back into her native language, “i think the world of you kylian, i really do. but I'm just not ready for this — for us"

“you don’t have to feel bad,” kylian cut her off, his voice sounding safe and kind, “je te comprends.” — i understand you

“i just don’t want to rush into anything,” she explained to him over the phone, “it’s… je ne sais pas vraiment comment dire, mais… i think i just need some time for myself. i would love it if someday, it went further, but right now i can’t. i want to take this slow, i guess.” — i don’t really know how to say it

her voice was vulnerable, mellifluous some would say, as she spoke. and he could never be mad at her. he had noticed her hesitancy immediately and was somehow not surprised by it. time tended to be a delicate measure in love affairs and he was willing to wait, if that meant he would be able to earn her trust and show how much it meant to him. prove to her that he was everything she needed. “we move at your pace if you want. if you want to go slower, we can go slower. i follow you. we’ll leave this friendship for now as it is and maybe one day, we’ll have that date. but till then, i’ll wait till you’re ready.”

she let out a breath, she didn’t even know she had held, relief washing over her. her heart melted at his words, the way he understood her, respected her choices, and didn’t push her for something she was not ready — it felt nice to have a partner, an ally like him in her life. 

“merci ky,” she thanked him gratefully, “thank you so much for understanding. how about you just come over?”

“i’d like that,” he responded, amara smiling when he accepted her offer. “do you want me to bring take out?”

“please do,” amara exclaimed, moaning at the thought of food. “there’s no way i’ll leave my couch except if it’s to pee.”

he laughed and she could just imagine the sight of that, watching his dimples appear again. “if you say so…”

“i can promise you, i did not plan on cooking tonight.” 

“well, then it’s good, i’m coming over with food.” he bragged sassily, followed by short laughter. “and again, i’m saving amara imani from dying.”

“just hurry up, please?”

“i’m on my way, cherié.” 

ending the call, an immense giggle left her lips, surprising her so much, she clasped her hand in front of her mouth to stop herself but it was useless— she still bursted out laughing, smiling brightly from one ear. the effect kylian had on her truly amazed her.

the ring of her doorbell pulled her out of her light slumber, groaning as she stretched her arms. her couch might have been comfortable but the position she fell asleep in definitely wasn’t. the novel she had started right after finishing the previous one had bored her so much, she hadn’t even noticed how her eyelids became heavier and heavier and the words she read suddenly didn’t make any sense to her anymore. there had been no point of change, the next moment her eyelids closed, she had left them in their state, falling into a light sleep. 

her body made it clear that she was tired, the way she had to drag it off the couch to get to the door. she wasn’t expecting anyone except kylian so she didn’t waste any time, trying to fix herself up a bit before opening the door. but she wouldn’t need to anyway. in kylian’s eyes, she could wear a potato bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the world (even though she would disagree wholeheartedly).

opening the door, amara’s eyes landed immediately on the brown paper bag, the french striker was holding in his right hand, standing outside her door. 

“you brought lunch,” amara stated plainly, her mouth starting to water when her nose caught a small scent of the food.

“actually dinner, considering it’s past six,” he retorted jokingly, entering her apartment. even though he had been over several times, kylian still felt a sense of pride, whenever he looked around. the countless hours he had spent, rummaging through magazines, walking through ikea had paid off. he noticed in her behavior that she felt at home. 

“i don’t even remember what i had for breakfast— did i even have breakfast?” she murmured in front of her, a satisfied expression apparent on her face. it changed quickly though to an embarrassed one, when suddenly a grumble was heard and it was clear that the origin of the sound was her stomach. 

“well, i brought,” he began, opening the brown bag and taking out its contents, “alfredo pasta with chicken,” he placed the meal on the marble kitchen counter, “a chicken caesar salad and,” he trailed off, grinning widely at her. “this beauty.” to amara’s surprise, he held up the bottle of red wine he had brought with him, which she recognized immediately.

“how did you—, i can’t even remember— what the hell?” every attempt she tried to form a sentence failed despairingly. the shock on her face was visible, she was clearly taken back. especially because she couldn’t remember even have told him about her tase of wine. 

kylian’s grin only widened at the sight of seeing amara speechless, happy to see he had somewhat the same effect on her as she had on him. “you mentioned it once during our movie nights… think it was when we were watching that movie about how to get rid of a guy and this clingy girl. anyway, you told me this was your favorite.”

this time, an unknown kind of warmth spread through her chest and her whole body. of course, her attraction for him grew even more but there was also something else. he remembered something she couldn’t even recall, whether she had ever mentioned it. but the fact that he had, warmed her heart. she felt seen, something that was very rare with evan. 

she took the bottle from his hands, accepting it thankfully. “i don’t think anyone has ever gifted me wine before, let alone my favorite.” she admitted quietly, hugging the bottle a little closer to her body. 

“i am glad to be the first one,” he replied softly and held out a fork, “so which one’s gonna be? pasta or salad?”

“i think…,” she started, pushing the bowl with the salad towards him, while reaching for the one with the pasta in it, “your nutritionist will start to hunt me down if i let you eat any more unhealthy take-out food so you take the salad.”

“well, ice cream and rom-coms sound so much better than salad and tread miles, tu ne trouve pas?” he commented rhetorically, grabbing his food that had been assigned to him and plopping down onto the sofa. he tapped on the free space next to him, waiting for her to join him. amara rolled her eyes but still followed his request, sitting down next to him, and hugging her legs closer to her body. “so, how’s my song going?” — don’t you think?

the nigerian singer rolled her eyes playfully at the star football player, preferring to eat her dinner than talk about her career even if she knew he meant it jokingly. a moan left amara’s lips as soon as the food hit her mouth, her taste senses immediately overwhelmed by the sensation of it. she wasn’t aware she had been this hungry till she had actually started to eat the food kylian had brought. her head fell back in satisfaction, ignoring the way kylian made fun of her. it was just her and her food.

“it’s in preparation,” she retorted shortly, going back to her food again. “but i should ask you, how many goals have you already scored for me? and what about my champions league?”

“there were tons of goals for you,” he bragged, shrugging his shoulders and waving dismissively. “the question is how many albums and songs are you gonna dedicate to me if i do win you a champions league?”

she scoffed, almost offended that he thought she couldn’t measure up to the significance of a champions league. “i’m gonna dedicate a whole tour to you if you do.”

“i’m gonna have a whole cabinet of trophies just for you.”

“you should put them right next to the cabinet with my grammys” amara replied sweetly, sarcasm clear in her voice. “along with your world cup trop-- stop stealing my food, kylian.” she cut herself off, exclaiming the last part of her sentence when kylian tried again to steal some of her pasta. 

“but i don’t want the salad,” he wailed, poking at the lettuce leaves on his plate. 

“t’aurais dû apporter plus de nourriture. it’s not mine you’re gonna get.” — you should have brought more food

“I’ll buy you some more”

“not gonna work,” she said firmly, pushing her bowl closer to her chest. kylian turned, acting as if he turned back to his plate before attacking hers again, making amara shriek by surprise at the attack on her food. “kylian!”

he held his hand up in defeat, knowing Amara was too stubborn and wouldn’t budge. “fine, fine,” the French striker said, bringing his attention back to his salad. the chicken Caesar salad wasn’t bad but he would choose pasta any day over green lettuce, after all he had never been a big fan of vegetables, only eating them when necessary. “so… what do you say, we listen to some music?”

“as long as it’s not my own, hit play.” she commented simply, “and i swear i will ban you from this apartment if you put any french rap.”

“come on, you said you loved French rap.” he objected, reaching for his phone and the bluetooth box on the small cabinet. 

“no kylian, i said that to stop you crying about your shit taste in music.”

“it’s not that bad.”

she scrunched up her face, a thoughtful expression apparent as she contemplated how to deny his statement. “well, anything’s better than your fashion style.”

“please neymar said it was good.”

“and you trust his opinion why?” she shot back quickly, raising an eyebrow.

he looked down, nearly embarrassed. “because he gets all the good reviews on his outfits.” kylian admitted shyly, not facing her as she let out a laugh.

“well, yours are shit.”

“now, you’re just being mean.”

“shouldn’t have tried to steal my food.”

“your still mad?” he exclaimed, “i told you i would buy you more.”

she shook her head, starting to collect their used dishes. standing up, she headed straight for the kitchen, putting their plates directly in the dishwasher, not in the mood to get her hands dirty. 

“do you want a hug?” kylian called after her, grinning widely. “i know it’s not food but it might also make you feel better.”

a shy smile sneaked onto her face, a chuckle leaving her lips at his proposal. grabbing a corkscrew, she returned back to her place with the bottle of wine he had gifted her. “I want the wine you brought me.”

“i can’t drink, i have training tomorrow,” kylian mumbled, rejecting the glass of wine she had held out to him and put his phone back down again, the lyrics of je te laisserai des mots starting to sound through the bluetooth box. 

“that’s okay, i can drink for two.” shrugging, she filled the red liquid into her glass.

“way to make me feel better.”

“i try.” she replied softly, closing the gap that separated her from the warmth of kylian’s body. 

there was silence between them, comfortable peace listening to the music. as the soft piano of the french ballad lulled them into a sense of comfort, amara snuggled into his body, resting her head on his shoulder as she sipped on her wine.

“you know the wine tastes better when you drink it with me,” she muttered, laughing lightly as the stunning song ended — and one of hers began. 

“oh…,” he noted, once he recognized her voice. he scrambled for his phone that lay on the white table in front of the couch, hurrying to skip the song but amara prevented him from doing so by grabbing his right arm. 

a fond smile graced her lips, “you can leave it,” she admitted gently. “i’m just surprised you even had me in your playlist.”

again, he looked at her, embarrassment clearly visible on his face. “i kind of asked neymar about you and he just grabbed my phone. i didn’t know he added this.”

she reached for his phone and restarted the song — and to kylian’s surprise, started to sing along. 

as she began to sing along to the lyrics of her own song, kylian found himself again completely mesmerized by her. the way her voice immediately adapted and matched the rhythm of the slow, r&b song — she could not be more perfect in his eyes. except her voice and the usual noises from the typical parisian life that sounded through the windows, it was quiet in the apartment. his heart filled with love and admiration for the woman in front of him. he had longly stopped listening to the lyrics but he didn’t care — all that mattered was her angelic, soothing voice. if kylian could, he would save it as his ringtone but at the same time, he would have hated the idea — he wanted this moment to be remembered by them and only them, and not some third part — this was for them. if he had had doubts about them before, about the way his feelings progressed so quickly, they were all gone now. all he wanted was to call her his, to hear her say, he was hers. 

two minutes passed, spent with her singing and him listening to her happily before the final notes of the song faded into the comfortable silence. kylian instantly began clapping, showering her in compliments as the melody of the new song started to sound over the bluetooth box but amara gave no quite reaction. a wave of sadness washed over her, grief and sorrow settling in and darkening the comfy vibe they had created. 

noticing her silence and the change in her behavior, with amara not even replying to one of his compliments, he looked at her and reached out to put an arm around her. he pulled her closer to his chest, making sure not to spill her glass with wine. 

“it’s just weird…,” she began, staring holes into the ceiling, “it’s one of my favorites songs and yet i also hate it. i guess everything is just still there.”

“is it possible for me to love a song when i was in such a bad place at that time?” she asked the french striker, taking small sips from her glass of wine. 

“it’s not always the team that plays better that wins.” kylian noted, his gaze shifting to the black woman on his chest staring at the ceiling. 

she chuckled “he never kept his promises,” amara confessed, referring to her song. “i kept all of them. he never kept his.”

“i may not have spent evenings cooking dinner for him naked but i did cook. and i spent endless nights waiting for him to come home. dressed up nicely because i thought it would make him finally pay attention to me,” she scoffed, realizing just how stupid she sounded, “he has probably no idea how it feels, waiting for someone to come home and instead waking up to new cheating rumors and scandals. and whenever i confronted him about it, he painted me as the jealous bitch. it’s what inspired me to write this.”

“did he cheat on you before this?” kylian questioned and amara let out a loud laugh. 

“countless times,” she answered, taking a big gulp from her wine. “there were tons of cheating scandals. i was lucky they never made it into the press or were able to be demented. but he definitely depicted me as the stupid, naive girlfriend…  he made a fool out of me,” amara recounted, venom lacing in her voice as she explained her part. 

she took a deep breath, “he didn’t love me. he loved the idea of me, the rising star girl who had the potential to become the next beyoncé. i was publicity for him, nothing more. amara didn’t exist, amara imani the singer was present.”

“were you happy?” he asked her quietly, his voice matching her volume. “i mean, was there a moment where you were happy?”

she shrugged, clueless as to how she should answer his question. “i don’t know. maybe at the beginning, when everything was fresh and going well. but the deeper it went, the more fucked up it became. like i said in the song, i loved making him jealous because at least there, i felt appreciated. making him jealous was proving to me that he still had some feelings for me, it was all i had left of our relationship in the end.”

listening to her woes, kylian felt his heart bleed with hers. anger flamed up inside him but he needed to be the bigger person for her, he would be everything he wasn’t for her. she had exposed her vulnerability in front of him, wore her heart on a sleeve and he swore to himself to protect it. all the ugly scars and marks and yet she shone brighter than any trophy. her heart was gold, authentic and pure - and worth more than any ballon d’or he could receive. 

he swore to himself he would be the person she always needed. the one who held her when she was at her lowest, the one who cheered and supported her when she was at her highest. his desire and determination to be the man she deserved and needed outmatched his own want for a champions league — she was the bigger picture, worth more than football.

“he didn’t deserve you, he never did,” kylian muttered. “and i am so sorry about what you had to go through in your own relationship. no one deserves to feel unfulfilled in their own relationship. but i can promise you, whether it we will be me or another man, you will be treated like the queen you are in your next one. it’s the least you deserve.”

amara lifted herself up from his chest and stared into his eyes, moving her eyes from the ceiling to look at him. suddenly, there was no one mattering except them, they were in their own world. time seemed to stand still as they wandered through universes together, the sorrowful atmosphere replaced with a delicate one, filled with passion and chemistry.

they were able to hear each other’s heart beats, pumping in a sync rhythm. they saw nothing but each other, leaning in, wanting to close the space that separated them from feeling each other’s touch. as she wanted to place her hand around his neck though, she accidentally spilled her glass, still filled with red wine, watching as some of it spilled on the white carpet and her top. 

she may not be able to blush but amara was certain, if she could, she would have matched a tomato’s skin color, with the embarrassment she was feeling at the moment. next to embarrassment, anxiety also rose through her body because of kylian’s impending reaction. innerly, she already prepared herself for the disappointment and anger, just waiting for when he would lash out. after all, he had spend an entire day helping her with the couch and carpet just for it to be stained now with red spots.

memories flashed through her mind, remembering how this had happened with evan and he had spent ten whole minutes, yelling at her, cursing her for her clumsiness. she wouldn’t be mad if kylian was angry at her, she was used to it. 

since the floor wasn’t opening and swallowing her as she would have preferred, amara excused herself swiftly and disappeared into the bathroom, hoping that if she was quick enough, she would still be able to save the evening. her hands were trembling and she felt her legs shaking due to her mind constantly reminding her what had happened with evan, the last time something like this had happened. she sighed frustratingly, trying to restore her composure. 

kylian on the other hand, wondered why she had rushed out so quickly. he didn’t understand what was so embarrassing about spilling some wine— he had done it a thousand times and it never bothered him or made him mad. if she thought he would lash out on her, kylian was sure, he would start to hunt down evan henderson — it didn’t take a genius to figure out that her reaction was a result from past trauma. but he could never be mad at her. 

he grabbed some papers from the kitchen roll along with a few cleaning tools and started to clean up the small stains she had left. it wasn’t much, with the majority of the wine spilling on amara’s shirt rather than on the carpet. he wasn’t judging her from walking away so quickly, wanting her to know that she would never have to worry about anger with him. 

after he had managed to somewhat erase the red stains from the carpet, he headed for her bedroom, remembering the big spot on her shirt. luckily for him, he had been there when she had organized her dressing room, not planning on spending twenty minutes to find her a comfortable top. after some looking around, he finally settled for a simple rose oversized shirt, thinking about how she had named the color as her favorite. 

walking to the bathroom, he entered it quietly and found amara at the sink, trembling as she tried to get rid of the stain in her shirt. she was rubbing the fabric aggressively, her legs trembling as they tried to withstand the amount of energy. 

“tout va bien?” kylian asked her slowly, making her look up and her expression slowly turned from embarrassed to surprised. he held up the pink oversized shirt hesitantly, not really sure if he chose the right one. “i’m not really sure if you’d like to this one, it’s the first i found but i could always—” —is everything okay?

“thanks ky,” cutting him off, she thanked him, sending him a small smile through the window. he turned around, waiting for her to change out of the dirty shirt into the clean one. as she gave him a signal that she had changed, he turned back and took place next to her on the floor. “sorry for ruining the event.”

“don’t say that, you didn’t ruin anything.” he objected immediately. 

“you don’t have to lie, i’m used to it. i always ruin evenings.”

he shook his head, sighing at her stubbornness. “i guarantee you, you didn’t ruin anything mara.” 

“it kind of feels like that,” she admitted, deflating. “not that it would be the first time.”

he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his chest again, like they had sat on the sofa thirty minutes ago. “mara, i know he made you feel like this but i can assure you, spilling wine is a normal thing. it was an accident and accidents are what make us human. so, stop apologizing for ruining the night because you certainly did not.”

her eyes traveled up to his, staring at him in admiration. “i admire you, kylian, honestly i do so much.”

“me too,” the psg player stated, earning a light slap from amara on his shoulder. “ouch.”

“be serious for once,” she responding in a scolding tone, widening his smile. “i mean it.”

“i did too. he may have made you think that it is unacceptable to make mistakes but i can assure you, you can make hundreds of them. this is what makes up human,” he replied softly, gazing at the woman on his chest. “and if it makes you feel better, this is the best not-date dinner that i have ever had in my life.”

“same,” she agreed, cuddling even closer. “they don’t know about us, right? or that night?” she asked somewhat nervously but it was only detectable in der undertone.

“no, I looked. it’s all right. they’ve got no idea about me and you.” he replied, a sincere smile forming on his face.

“merci kylian. you’re a true lifesaver, on and off the pitch.” she thanked him. “and now please explain to me, how the hell did neymar talk you into thinking your outfits were good.”

he let out a loud laugh but nonetheless started explaining with amara interrupting him from time to time to leave some sidemarks. but they were comfortable as they sat on the bathroom floor. 

the sound of water drops falling from the tap they had just used was heard behind them, and amara couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions. from the start, when they had met, she had known that kylian would be different from him. yet, this moment, as simple as it was, was special to her.

the way she found herself drawn to him — she had never had those kinds of emotions with evan, felt the attraction towards his personality.

the little twinkle in kylian’s eyes as he talked about how football had always been his passion, didn’t go unnoticed by her. there was just something so captivating, endearing even about the way he spoke. she found herself hanging on to his every word, fascinated by his intelligence, his wit and unique perspective. she felt safe and understood in those four walls.

and then there were his two small dips at the line of his smile, that she wasn’t sure whether they were dimples or not but couldn’t get herself to care. for her, they were the most adorable thing next to his smile. whenever they appeared, amara found herself completely mesmerized by it — for her, they were the most beautiful thing. 

just watching him talk, she realized just how much of an effect he had on her. it was happening quickly but yet so calm and hesitant, there was no denying of her growing feelings for the french striker. but she liked that it was happening at her own pace.

so here they were, sitting on the bathroom floor with red wine-stained clothes, talking about the world with no care for what is going on outside. they were in their own bulb, and god forbid, someone brought them out of it. with every second that passed, amara realized that she had found something special in kylian. he was becoming hers.

it was late, probably one or two o’clock in the morning and yet energy was pumping through amara’s veins. kylian had left a few hours ago, bidding goodbye due to having training in the morning and since then, amara could not rest. 

while they were sitting on the floor, talking about the world and god, she had suddenly been hit with inspiration. all of a sudden, words in her head started to make sense and build lyrics, perfect for a new song. and the more he talked, the brighter she got. 

as soon as he had left, amara grabbed a new notebook and started writing the lyrics into it, trying to build as much as she could. it was now well past midnight and she had almost finished a whole new song. 

truthfully, there were still some holes but that was nothing she couldn’t fix. going over the words she had written, she immediately noticed the reason why it had been so easy for her to write. all the words written on the paper described one man and her feelings towards him: kylian. 

and the longer she thought about it, the more she knew what she had to do. she grabbed her phone, immediately swiping up her contacts lists and pressed on grace’s contact icon. she should have felt bad about waking her friend up that early but excitement for her new song definitely outweighed her guilt. 

“hello,” a sleepy voice answered on the phone, grace. 

“gracey, i’ve got amazing news.”

a loud groan was heard at the other side of the line. “amara, do you have any idea which time it is? i was sleeping.”

“sorry but i just had to tell you. i wrote a new song. and i’m ready.”

“ready for what?” her manager asked her, seeming confused. 

“i am done hiding and i’m planning big for my comeback.”

[perfinn]

the tree remembers

din djarin x oc

wc: 4.1k

summary: din djarin takes a what seems to be a safe bounty on ferrix, and finds himself accidentally entangled with a woman stubbornly tagging along to help him.

cw: slight violence but nothing extreme, din gets a lil horny ✊😔, otherwise rlly nothing

read on ao3, banner by saradika

Din Djarin takes easier jobs now. 

Maybe easier isn't quite the right word, but he needs to be choosier now. With a child in tow – his son. He rather likes being able to call Grogu his son – there's the issue of safety. Much as Din is sure the child would like to deny it, Grogu is vulnerable. So he takes care in choosing which pucks he takes. 

Ferrix is a quiet place these days. The Empire was quite soundly ousted from the planet after it fell, and the residents are far too stubborn to let them occupy any space there again. It’s perfect, really, especially toting around his valuable-to-the-Empire son. He can’t blame his quarry for thinking it's a good place to hide. Quiet, unassuming, easy to blend into a crowd. Not the prettiest planet in the galaxy, sure, but it’s a smarter choice than some. Not nearly smart enough to outmanoeuvre Din, though. Few are. 

“Get a good look at it,” Din says as he adjusts the beskar-mail under Grogu’s robe. The puck, lit up with the image of their quarry, is held precariously in Grogu’s claws. Grogu coos at it, clearly studying it very intently. “Shout if you spot her.”

Grogu looks up at Din and blinks those big eyes, looking very serious as he babbles at his father. Behind his helmet, Din smiles to himself and takes the puck back to tuck it away. He gently places his hand on Grogu’s head, the most affectionate gesture he can muster as he mentally places himself into a hunting mindset. The puck said that she wasn’t a violent quarry, nor was she known to be armed. But the information the guild has isn’t always sound, and he’d been almost caught unawares by violent bounties that Karga had failed to disclose. (Almost. That he was standing here living and breathing was proof enough, he supposed, that he’d never been caught unawares. Discounting the many times he’d been caught unawares.)

That margin of error is reason enough to make Din worry.

“You know what to do if there’s danger,” he says sternly. He makes certain the pram is connected to his vambrace before turning and making his way out of the Crest.

Ferrix is cold and dry according to the display in Din’s helmet, not that he can much feel it. He makes no attempts at conversation as he pays the parking toll (frighteningly low, lower than he’s probably seen in months) and the young man behind the counter seems content with that, his attention captured instead by whatever’s playing on a screen he has propped up against a radio. Din glances at it for a moment, wondering if all customer service is this detached and impersonal on Ferrix. He hopes so. 

Din moves on before the young clerk can glance at him again, practised eyes scanning the streets. It's a quaint, industrial sort of place, built of brick and mortar covered in creeping vines and carved stone. The ground is gravelly, the colour of  clay, and it crunches softly under Din’s boots. Should he need the element of surprise, he supposes he’ll have to be more careful than simply sneaking up on someone.

There are some planets where Din can go up to someone, ask about his quarry, and be directed to someone who fits the description. And that would be it. Ferrix doesn’t strike him as that kind of place, if the way no one seems to want to look at him is any indicator. Din is used to being given a wide berth, so he’s not feeling particularly bothered about it. If anything, he prefers it. Doesn't make his life any easier, though. 

He makes his way into what looks like a tavern and orders soup for Grogu, taking a seat in the corner and leaning back to watch. Grogu coos as the soup is served to him, climbing forward to sip at it. “Be careful,” Din warns quietly, met with indignant gurgling from his son. 

The place is lively as sundown nears, most everyone seems friendly with one another but keen enough to avoid the obvious intruder in the corner. Din observes silently, eyes catching a woman sitting at the bar, dark hair pulled back haphazardly into a ponytail as she laughs over a drink. She reaches across the bar, snagging a bottle of something and refilling her glass. The bartender, seeming familiar with her, scolds her and Din hears him say he’ll add the whole bottle to her tab. As she’s complaining, Din must tilt his head just so that the light glints off his visor and alerts the woman to his presence. She looks at him, and somehow manages to lock eyes with him on the first try– most don’t manage it. Her smiling face immediately drops into a scowl Din could almost describe as hateful. He’s been carefully ignored and skirted around until now, no one has outwardly shown disdain for him. Part of him wonders why she stands apart, but most of him knows he doesn’t have the time to ponder on it. There are more important things at hand. 

He glances down to check on Grogu, and when he looks up again the woman has gone. Grogu has evidently grown bored now his soup bowl is empty, the child climbing up onto the table and waddling over to Din with the intent to climb up onto him. Din helps him into his lap with a soft huff. “You’re a terrible bounty hunter, kid,” he murmurs. “Sometimes I’ll stay in one place for hours, you know.”

“Patu!” spits Grogu, giving voice to his dissent at the very idea. 

“You’ll learn,” Din says, sighing almost imperceptibly and standing up with Grogu easily nestled in the bend of his elbow. His quarry looks to be smart enough to lay low, so he won't find her in here. At least the kid’s been fed. He drops a couple credits on the table as a tip for the wonderful service of being left alone before heading for the exit into the waning sunlight. 

The twilight makes the planet seem ever colder, so he turns and sets Grogu in the pram, making certain he’s nestled in the blankets. He worries sometimes that the tips of his ears will get cold. He smiles to himself, gently rubbing Grogu’s ear before brushing his gloved hand over his head and standing upright. 

His helmet alerts him to something in the shadows. A heat signature in the corner of his vision. Din tips his head just enough to get a better look at the shape of it, waiting patiently for an analysis. Humanoid, female, leaning up against an alley wall with something very hot held to her lips. A smoke of some kind. Din curls his lip. (He’s spent much of his life making expressive faces with no consequence.) The last thing he wants is Grogu inhaling the smoke, so he makes certain to head the opposite direction from the figure and into the adjacent alleyway. 

As he goes, though, he hears the crunching of footsteps on the gravel behind him. He pauses, lowering his head and turning it just slightly. The crunching stops. Before he can turn all the way around, a weight has landed heavily on his back. To his credit, he’s solid as a rock and doesn’t stumble forward with the new weight, but it does take him by surprise– especially when a lean arm wraps around his throat. He can’t imagine he’s a comfortable ride with the jetpack digging into his attacker. He’s quick to grab who he assumes is the woman who’d been smoking by the arm, trying to tug her free. She’s stronger than he expected, and when he tries to throw her off she only wraps her legs around his torso. 

What exactly is her goal here? She has no leverage this way, and despite her strong grip she’s not heavier than Din and his twenty pounds of armour. And Din can’t decipher why she’s doing this at all– is she stupid? He’s almost amused by it until she grasps the bottom of the helmet with her free hand. Before she can gain and purchase and lift it, he turns and slams his back into the wall. A grunt of breath rushes out of her and her grip on him falters as she sucks in a strangled gasp for air. Din grabs her arm then, hauling her forward as her legs loosen, throwing her over his shoulder and onto the ground. She’s got just enough breath to land her feet on the ground, straining as she grapples to be freed from Din’s grip. She finds her footing before Din can drag her to the ground, crying out as she thrusts a punch toward his throat. Din lurches up. She misses, her knuckles clipping the edge of his breastplate.

The woman gasps, drawing her hand back. “Fuck!” she cries, a startled yelp escaping her next when Din kicks at her shins and brings her tumbling down to the ground. Din goes with her, placing all of his weight on top of her to pin her down. She wriggles beneath him, apparently unwilling to give up even in the face of obvious defeat. 

“What is your problem?” Din growls, and it comes out more threatening that he intends it to through the gritty vocoder of his helmet. 

The woman beneath him, he now sees, is the one from the bar. The one who had glowered at him like he’d committed some kind of faux pas simply by daring to be there. He wonders, briefly, if she has some vendetta against him he doesn’t know about, or against people wearing armour like his. He supposes it wouldn’t be the first time. But few are so stupid as to physically attack him. Most would just use a blaster– which, now he’s looking her over, he can see she has tucked into the inside of her jacket. What kind of idiot–

“Get off me!” She growls back, trying to shove him off of her. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“What?”

She pauses in her squirming, finally going still beneath him. She looks up at him, dark eyes blown wide in the dusklight and brows knitted tightly together.  (A combination of the pain of punching beskar and confusion, Din imagines.) Din’s a touch ashamed to say that the sight of her like that does something to him– he puts it down to not getting any for a while and promptly ignores his cock stirring. 

“You-” she grunts softly, apparently still short of breath from being knocked on her back twice. “You’re a bounty hunter. Mandalorians are bounty hunters.”

Din bristles. “We’re not all bounty hunters,” he says. “I am. But not all. You thought I was here for you?”

The woman shifts again, now awkwardly. “I…” She shifts her gaze, looking at the bricks of the alley wall. She seems now acutely aware of the position she’s put herself in by making such an assumption and choosing – for some inconceivable reason – to fight her would-be captor instead of escaping. 

Din stays still for a moment, deathly still. “I’m here for an Utai,” he tells her, leaning closer so there’s less than an inch between his helmet and her nose. She tries to shrink away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. “Should I be here for you? Hm? Are you worth more than she is?”

He hears her breath hitch in her throat and yet again her eyes somehow manage to find his. Like she’s looking right at him and not at a menacing helmet. It’s kind of eerie, actually. 

“There might not actually be a bounty out for me,” she blurts out in one hurried breath, erratic. “I just assumed.”

Din grunts. “Who did you piss off?”

She hesitates to answer, shifting the best she can beneath him. She glances off, answering half the question for him. Someone powerful. Someone rich. Din could do rich, but he’s not certain he’s safe to bring Grogu around someone powerful.

“The Empire,” she murmurs.

Dank farrik.

Apparently listening to the conversation, Grogu gurgles with discontent. Din shifts his head to look at his son, currently trying to climb out of his pram. “Stay there,” he says sternly, only met with protests from Grogu. “Grogu.”

The woman beneath him looks over, then back up at Din. “You seriously bring your kid with you on bounty hunts?”

“You know of many babysitters willing to be carted around the galaxy?” Din says back, grunting and moving to get off the woman. If she is wanted by the Empire, that has to be none of his business. No matter how sweet the bounty, that’s the deepest line he has to draw in the sand. He stands, offering out a hand to her. She hesitates to take it, but she still looks to be regaining her breath so she relents, clasping his arm and letting him tug her to her feet.

“I suppose not,” she says slowly, releasing him and taking a wary step back. Oh, now she hesitates? “You’re not… going to turn me in?”

Din moves over to Grogu, firmly placing him back in the pram. “No. I don’t need any trouble with the Empire.”

Grogu coos up at him, little face contorted in anger. Din knows he’s come to associate that word with pain and fear. He hates that that’s his fault. But he’ll never experience that again, not as long as Din lives. He gently rubs Grogu’s ear to reassure him, not needing words to comfort his son.

“Usually when I mention the Empire people tell me I’m crazy,” the woman goes on, lifting her knuckles up to look at the damage. Din looks over his shoulder at her.

“Those people are crazy.”

She snorts.

“But you’re also crazy. Just for different reasons.”

The woman huffs a laugh then, flexing her fingers. She’s quiet for a moment, rubbing at the quickling purpling skin of her knuckle. She must have burst a blood vessel nicking the beskar. Din almost feels bad– after all, she wasn’t stupid enough to actually aim for his chestplate, she just missed. 

“Why is there a bounty on that Utai?”

Din recognises the tone of voice. That's the ‘I know something that could help you, but I’m holding it back out of moral obligation’ tone. He looks her over, helmet making a better assessment of her now. She has the blaster, obviously, but he thinks she has a blade somewhere too. Her boot, probably. He looks her in the eyes. “Worried family.”

The woman quietly assesses him for another moment. “Black sheep?” she asks. 

Din nods sharply. 

“Mm,” she hums. “Well, I know where she is.” 

She doesn't say more, and neither does Din. The two are locked in a silent standoff. The sun is all but gone now, leaving them in the distant lamplight. Din figures he knows what she wants. Credits, a cut, he's heard it all before. He’ll give her enough to get the information out of her, but she’s dreaming if she thinks she's getting a cut of the reward. 

“I want to help you,” she says. Din has the decency to be startled then, but he doesn't show it. “She deserves to know her family is worried about her.”

That’s… oddly sentimental. Din can see that something personal is driving her here, but he’s not going to ask. “Have you spoken with her? Is she violent?”

“Yes, I have,” she says. “And no, she isn't. Just… troubled. I think if you bring me with she’ll come quietly.”

Din stares at her with a furrowed brow, considering her offer. It’s no secret that Din is an imposing figure, he tends to make people run or fight on instinct. Fight, in this woman’s case. In the past, Din might have denied her, taken the information she had, and left. But he supposes these days, he could benefit from a violence-free job. He glances down at Grogu, who tilts his head up at him. “Fine,” he says after a moment. “Lead the way. If I suspect anything is wrong I won’t hesitate.”

The woman nods, giving him a mock salute. “I’m Lucia, by the way,” she says.

Din lifts his head to look at her. Lucia. It’s a nice name, he thinks. Suits her. He doesn’t say anything in response, and if she expects to hear his name in response she doesn’t push him for it. Din appreciates that. 

She turns then, making her way out of the alley. She leads the three of them down the road to what must be a hostel of some kind, ducking inside. She glances back at him as they approach a door, gently gesturing for him to stay back. Din obeys, making sure Grogu is firmly behind him.

Lucia knocks on the door and not a moment later is it being opened by the very woman Din had carefully studied on the puck. She almost has to crane her neck to look up at Lucia, blinking her protruding eyes at her. She looks at Din next, and notably straightens up.  

“Kaylac, right?” Lucia says, voice low and gentle. “We spoke at the tavern a few days ago.”

Kaylac looks about ready to slam the door on them, but she appears to think better of it. She speaks in her croaky voice, Basic a bit stunted by her differently shaped tongue, Din supposes. “I remember,” she says. 

“You told me about your family,” Lucia continues. “About how you don’t think they understand you.”

“I said I remember,” Kaylac says, sharper this time. Din knows he’s the reason she’s on edge. He’d make himself less imposing if he could, but he’s just standing here. Not trying to intimidate her. “What is this about?”

Lucia shifts, undeterred. “Well maybe they don’t understand, but they are worried about you. They put out a call to come find you.”

A call is an awfully nice way to say bounty, but sure.

“Mando here took the job, and he’s gonna take you home if you’re willing.”

“Willingness isn’t a factor,” Din interrupts. Lucia whips her head around, shooting him a venomous look. He almost startles at the sudden change in demeanour. She really has perfected the mean-mug. He adds, guiltily, “I… have orders not to harm you unless it's in self defence. I mean to follow them.”

Kaylac looks between the both of them. “I’m not going with him–”

“Kaylac,” Lucia interrupts. “I know the idea of going back to your family is daunting. I know. But they’re never going to understand you if you don’t let them try. Look how much they love you, Kaylac, they sent out a plea to the galaxy to find you and bring you home. Let Mando take you home to them. I know that if you do, things will change.”

It’s hard to read the expressions on Kaylac’s face, but Din supposes she feels moved. He thinks he probably would as well if he’d been given a similar speech. After a moment she nods her head. “I guess it’s worth seeing,” she says quietly. 

Behind Din, Grogu coos happily, apparently pleased with the outcome.

Lucia smiles brightly, gently patting her shoulder. “Good,” she says. “I hope it goes well for you, Kaylac.”

With Lucia’s help, Kaylac goes without trouble. She hesitates when presented with the carbonite freezer, but somehow Lucia manages to assure her that it’s not so bad. And she goes in without trouble, leaving Din, Lucia, and Grogu alone in the hold of the Crest. 

Lucia turns to Din, hands on her hips as she sighs. Din contemplates her words to assure Kaylac. 

“It’s really not so bad. Like when you take a nap, but you never really felt asleep, you know?”

It’s too specific to be second hand knowledge. She’s been in carbonite before, and seemingly come out of it fine. She didn’t mention hibernation sickness to Kaylac, though. A kindness, Din supposes. A kindness she didn’t have to give, an omission to reassure the nervous quarry. Many wouldn’t have done the same.

“Well, I think you owe me a drink,” she says. 

“A drink,” Din echoes. “What for?”

“For helping,” she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “She came willingly, without violence. Sometimes that deserves to be celebrated.”

Din holds back a sigh. He suspects she’s not the type to give up, so maybe it's easier for everyone if he just relents. “Right. Fine, if you insist.”

“I do,” she says with a smile. It's a nice look on her. She's… nice looking. Which isn't the most eloquent way of putting it, he knows, but it's true. She's sort of rugged, unrefined, but undeniably pretty. He doesn't get a lot of downtime to stare at pretty women. Maybe this is excuse enough. She’ll be good enough imagination material for late nights in his bunk. Hell, he's imagining it now. 

“It's a nice ship you’ve got,” says Lucia as she begins to make her way out. Din follows, Grogu floating along beside him. “Looks like she's seen better days, but.”

Din follows her gaze up to the patch job that is the Crest now. “She has,” he says. “One shot from an Imperial light cruiser and…”

It's hard to miss the disgust on Lucia’s face at the very mention. “Say no more,” she says. “Amazed she survived at all.”

“It's a salvage job. I keep meaning to fix her properly, but I can never seem to find the time.”

Her eyes crinkle with an understanding smile. “Come on,” she says, jerking her head toward the city. 

It's a short walk back into the tavern, which is still open but has long gone quiet, only who Din assumes to be the heavy drinkers still scattered about the bar. Lucia heads up to the bar, getting herself a glass of spotchka before glancing back at Din. 

“He’s paying,” she says with a grin. She sips the drink, sitting down at a worn down table once Din has paid for her drink. “I can't imagine there's much time for ship maintenance with a kid around.”

Grogu climbs out of his pram and onto the table, babbling and waddling over to Din. He must be tired, Din thinks. He lifts him gently, settling him in his arms. “No,” he tells Lucia, glancing up to see Lucia smiling at his son. “He's… a handful.”

“I can imagine,” she says. “Sounds like you need an extra pair of hands.”

Din’s quiet for a few moments. “I manage.”

He could, though, even if it's hard to admit. Being a father and bounty hunting is more work than he anticipated. 

He doesn't really know Lucia. Doesn't know that he can trust her. But she’s kind. Clearly hates the empire as much as he does. She has a way with people, a way that draws them to her. It's certainly worked on Din– why else has he sat here and listened to her at all when he probably should have just ignored her after she stopped being useful?

“Why did you help me?” he asks.

Lucia taps her finger against her glass a few times, pursing her lips. “I’d spoken to Kaylac,” she said quietly. “She told me about her family, about how she didn't feel like they ever tried to understand her. When I found out they were looking for her, I…” She looks away, out the window at the darkened sky. “My own family didn't really understand me. And I didn't get a chance to fix things with them before…” She stops, swallows, and looks back at Din. “This galaxy tears families apart. If I could help you make just one whole again, isn't that worth something?”

A moment of silence stretches between them as Din considers her words. The silence is broken by Grogu yawning, the child clearly trying his hardest to stay awake. This quarry had been safe, but they won’t all be that way. As much as Din likes to believe he can, he won't always be able to protect his son. An extra pair of hands… it doesn't seem like such a terrible idea. 

If it goes sideways and she hurts Grogu in any way, Din’s not afraid to make her pay. 

“The pay wouldn't be anything big,” says Din. “It won't be glamorous.”

Lucia lights up with that pretty pretty smile again and Grogu coos softly, almost affectionately. Din doesn't blame him. 

“Alright,” says Lucia. “Brilliant. Well, glad to be working with you, boss.” 

“Mando is fine,” he says. “Don’t get comfortable. If anything goes wrong, it’s your neck.”

Lucia only continues to smile, offering a salute– not to Din, he realises, but to Grogu, who giggles tiredly. Din can’t help but smile to himself. He supposes there are worse people he could blindly trust with his son.

[dreamingon-forever]

Tied Up in Marley

Should be studying or at least finishing my other works, but random bursts of inspiration get me to write small drabbles instead. So here you go! I think I'll start making a collection of these on my AO3 so it's easier to find and navigate in one place.

Synopsis: Follows after the event of the SC making it to Marley. Levi finds it difficult to adjust to the cultural differences in the enemy territory. Mainly the clothing style and the overly complicated accessory called a tie. Hange, however, helps him figure it out.

Pairings: HangexLevi

"Tch... these are stupid." Levi grumbled as he fiddled with the smooth piece of fabric in his hands. Eventually throwing his hands up in frustration at annoyance of it becoming a tangled mess once more.

"Sounds like you're having fun over there, huh, Levi?" Hange's amused voice called out to him as she made herself known at his door, characteristically having intruded without much as a knock.

They were staying in Marley at the moment, getting ready to meet up with Onyokopon and the kids for their secret mission of surveying what the new world was like. Onyankopon had given them all Marlian outfits to fit in and blend in the crowd, and needless to say, Levi was not particularly fond of this thing called a tie.

"Fuck off... why do these people bother making such a complicated thing when there's more sophisticated forms to adorn their wear?" He grumbled as he got his fingers stuck in the black fabric, eliciting a swear from him.

Hanger watched her companion struggle for a bit longer before heading his way, pulling his hands away to stop him from further messing with the tie.

"Here, I'll do it for you." Before he could reject their offer, Hange's slim fingers pulled at both ends of the long piece of fabric, pulling the shorter man closer to her by the neck.

Eyes wide and complains dying in his throat, the man stared at his companion in surprise.

"What? Cat's got your tongue?" Hange teased, but kept her eyes on the black garment as she started making intricate loops out of them.

With a clear of his throat and the slightest of pink adorning his cheeks, he looked away, grumbling at something that neither could really decipher. "Oi, Shitty-glasses, I'm not a fucking titan that you have to decapitate, you know."

But the man's initial discomfort at their proximity eventually faded as he glanced at the woman's deft fingers, her expression one of concentration as she hummed along to a random tune as she finished. His heart jittering a bit at the calmness she displayed for the first time in a long time.

"There!" She proudly presented, pushing the man towards the mirror centered in his room.

"Hm... Not bad." He finally responded after a careful inspection of the woman's handiwork. "Where'd you learn the Marlian's way of tying this? Books?" But as he threw a look at the woman next to him through the mirror's reflection, he caught sight of the matching tie perfectly adorning around her neck. The look causing a sinking sensation in his stomach. "Or did someone else teach you? One of the Marlians within the residence?" He finally asked, turning away as he started noticing the way the woman's eyes captured his own through the mirror.

A moment of silence fell between them, and the longer it did, the worst the feeling in him deepened.

"Let's go. The kids are waiting." He finally said, deciding he didn't want to find out either way. He didn't know when he started developing these strange thoughts and feelings towards his commander, but all he knew was that when it started making itself known, aspects and thoughts of someone else being at her side other than him had become more and more frequent. And in turn, more painful.

"Jean. Jean was the one who taught it to me. He learned it from Onyancopon and taught it to the rest of us while you were adamant on cleaning your room." She finally said as she caught up to him. "Although I have seen some books while on our way here that show different ways of doing it."

As they made their way down to wait for the kids, they took notice of Mikasa tying Eren's own tie. The young man fussing around saying he could do it on his own while Mikasa attempted to try and recreate the one that Jean had sported earlier. At seeing the two veterans join them, the two immediately spread apart, a bashful look on their faces.

"Corporal... Commander..." They greeted.

With a knowing smile, Hange walked up to them. "Need help? I can do it for you." But before anyone got the chance to answer, Levi walked up to them, pulling Hange towards him.

"They need to learn how to do it themselves, just give them a demonstration instead."

Throwing her friend a confused look, Hange tilted her head to the side. "Demonstartion? On who?"

At her words, Levi deftly pulled apart his tie again. "Here, do it again."

His three companions threw incredulous looks at him, but otherwise didn't comment at his suggestion. Finally relenting, Hange eventually started doing as asked, teaching the kids how to do the intricate pattern of steps on the scout's corporal's tie.

When finalized, both Levi and Eren sported perfectly made ones. And by the time they finished, the rest of the kids had joined them, all ready and eager to go to the outside world.

But right before they left, Mikasa slowed down to walk next to the corporal, a smug look on her face. "Smooth. Couldn't be more obvious about your feelings." She said, earning a hiss from the man as she stuck out her tongue and left for her friends.

As they walked side by side, marveling at the new atmosphere around them, Levi continued to subtly throw glances at the woman beside him, his hand feeling at his knotted fabric every now and then.

"Is it uncomfortable? Did I tie it too tightly?" She asked, finally taking notice of the glances.

If he was surprised by her attention, he didn't show it. "No. But I'm not planning on making this a part of my every day wardrobe at all. It's too much of a hassle." He muttered.

Hange chuckled but understood. "That's fine, I don't think we'll be staying in Marley for too long anyways." She said as her eyes followed after Jean, Connie, and Sasha as they all gasped loudly at some exotic food. And after a heavy sigh, she went on to stop them from pestering the poor merchant, leaving the man alone for a moment as the commander went on to deal with the mess.

After some time walking, the two decided to settle down on a bench next to the water as the kids went off to try some of the foods giving out free samples, leaving Onyankopon to look after them. And as they basked under the warm sunlight, he couldn't help but notice the smile that grazed the woman's face. This was probably the most free they've felt after taking on the task of a commander, he thought. Here they were just normal citizens, or at least presenting themselves to be. No one knew who they were, what their titles implied, or what fell onto their shoulders to carry. They were just two normal people.

"Since I'm not planning on learning how to tie this fuckery of a choking hazard... maybe it'll save me the trouble if you experiment them on me while we're here." He spoke up.

Hange threw him a confused look for a moment before Levi pulled out a book from his pocket, handing it to the woman without as much as throwing a glance at her. "You said you wanted to try learning other methods of tying them." He muttered, pushing the book into the woman's hands.

Hange's exposed eye widened in surprise as she took the book into her hands. Slowly leafing through the pages, awe and excitement could be seen appearing in her eye, the long-lost spark finally coming back alive, with it igniting a new fire within her.

"Hope you're ready for tomorrow then! I got the one I want to try!" She exclaimed excitedly as she continued focusing on the book in her hands, completely oblivious to the warm look the man next to her gave.

"Can't wait." He muttered.

And just like that, the following days started with Hange joining him in his bedroom to try a new pattern. The events turning into an unspoken tradition while staying in the foreign lands. Each time allowing a few minutes of alone time between them, and each one bringing back a piece of Hange Levi seemed to miss from when they were mere scouts.

But now that the war was over and a years have passed and the first days in Marley were behind them, Levi stared at the lose piece of fabric draped around his neck. The man looking back at him through the reflection of the mirror missing the familiar smiling figure that always stood behind his as she worked on his accessory.

A knock on the door alerted the man of a visitor, and as expected, Onyankopon walked in. "Hi, Captain. Are we ready?" He asked as he stepped in after being invited in.

With a nod, Levi looked down at the worn out cover of the book in his hands. His gift to Hange now in his possession after the outcomes of the war. The paperback having survived because Onyankopon had brought it onto the ship with him knowing its significance to both the ex commander and the corporal.

"Let's do this one today." Levi said, pointing to one particular page.

Onyankopon raised an eyebrow as he took the book into his hands, surprised by his choice. "But this is the original form, Captain. You sure you want this one today?" He asked.

Levi nodded. "Yes. It's Shitty-glasses' birthday, and I think she'll appreciate this one the most." He said. The memories of their first day in Marley and their tradition on the new world coming back to him.

With a nod, the young man got to work. Recreating the original knot that the woman had done for him on one of the last normal days they'd have.

Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco all joined Levi on his yearly trip to the ocean. It wasn't the same one that he and the 104th had seen when encountered with the large mass of water for the first time. But as Hange's said once, all bodies of water connect to each other one way or another. And he sincerely hoped she was right as he'd always envisioned her as the human embodiment of water. Always free flowing and expansive. And most importantly, never truly gone, just present in different forms.

While the others left Levi alone to say his words in private, he set down a bouquet of flowers down. Bright yellow roses, as bright as she'd always been.

"Hey Four-eyes... I'm wearing that stupid tie you were so excited learning about. You know that the only times I ever wear it is when i come visit you, right?" The raven-haired man asked out to the ocean. A gust of gentle breeze sweeping around him as if in response to his words, a small smile gracing his lips at the mere thought.

"You promised me you'd keep tying them for me, Shitty-glasses..." He muttered into the sky. "You better keep your word when we meet again."

---------

"I'm going now!" Hange called out as she raced towards the door, a shoe in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.

"Oi, wait a minute, Hange. You forgot something." A male voice called to her. And as she looked up, she was met with the sight of her husband. Fully clothed but his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

With a soft smile, the woman stood back up, placing her piece of toast into her mouth before pulling the man by his lapels, earning a grunt from the man at the woman's childish behaviour. "Come here, grumps." She said, carefully tying the intricate knots with ease from all the years of practice she'd had tying them for her husband.

"I'll be back before dinner! Love you!" She said as she took the toast back into her hand, leaving a peck on the man's lips before heading out the door.

"Tch... thanks for keeping your promise, Hange."

[babygirldabi]

Runaway Part 3

CW: This part is NOT smut, sorry to all my lovely horndogs, but I needed to throw some plot in there at some point, murder, guns, weapons in general, some sexual harrassment, a little teeny tiny bit of fluff, I think that's it. Fair warning I didn't do a ton of editing bc this took a lot of brain space THAT I DO NOT HAVE THIS WEEK, Definitely working on a Part 4 and probably 5 because I know where I wanna go with this now. As always, thanks for reading.

Remember that I will tag you if you want to be notified about new chapters!

Tags: @kierewrites (because you left SUCH A NICE COMMENT LAST TIME), @blahblahblahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Part 3

As you wake up, Dabi sits on the edge of the bed and goes over the plan with you.

It’s a simple transport; the Doctor needs the League to pick up some mysterious package and deliver it to his own personal Headquarters; something about strengthening the League’s Nomus. Dabi doesn’t share the details, and you don’t ask. The less you know the better. 

 “We have two vehicles, Spinner is gonna drive us, Toga, Twice and Compress will serve as the distraction in the other car, and you and I are going to handle the actual delivery.” He smiles as your eyes widen at this bit of information. 

“That’s- uh, kind of a really big test for a first mission, isn’t it?” You stutter, feeling overwhelmed. Dabi watches you squirm and smiles wider. 

“You and I have strong Quirks. If it comes down to fighting, Shig wants the strongest ones around the actual package to protect it." He doesn't mention that he specifically asked Shig to let him work with you directly. "You’ll be fine.”

"Why are we doing this during the day?" You inquire. "Isn't nighttime easier?"

"During the day there's more traffic. It's easier to blend in, follow the daily commute," Dabi explains. "We're less likely to get noticed if we're just part of the crowd." You nod. It makes sense.

“Is Shigaraki coming?” You turn and rifle through the clothes that Toga has lent you, trying to find something nondescript, forgettable. 

“No. We don’t want him near this one in case something goes wrong.” He doesn’t sound concerned. “Wear the black jeans and the black tank top,” Dabi orders, rising from the bed to glance down at the stack with you. “Nothing flashy.”

“Of course,” you murmur, picking up the specific items and turning towards the bed to dress. 

“You’ll have a hat and a mask, too, to hide your face. We don’t want anyone recognizing the latest ex-Hero hanging out with the League.” Dabi turns towards the door. “meet me at the bar when you’re ready. I’m gonna go check in with the others.” He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, just leaves.

You scowl as you dress. For all his attentions last night, Dabi is back to being cold. He’s also being helpful, you muse, but it’s not the same. Last night you were the remedy for his nightmares, the distraction that grounded him. Today, you’re just the new hire. You finish pulling on the clothes and check your reflection in the mirror. You look like any regular civilian; forgettable, vague. Exactly what I want to be. You scowl at your reflection, then turn on your heel and head towards the main room. 

 Dabi is leaning against the bar, head leaned close to Spinner’s as they trace the route on a large map and mutter together. Toga skips over to take your hand, beaming. “Happy first mission!” She crows, practically dancing with excitement. “How do you feel?”

You can’t help but smile at her as she swings your hands gently together. “I'm fine. A little nervous,” you admit, and in your peripheral you see Dabi’s blue eyes flash up to your face before settling down to the map again. 

 “Don’t be nervous, this is routine,” Twice advises, before his left eye starts promptly twitching. “We’re so screwed!”

“Ignore him. He’s jumpy before missions," Toga giggles, then releases your hand to go stand by Dabi’s shoulder. “Compress is getting the car. We should be ready in a couple minutes.”

“Alright. Rookie’s with me and Spinner. Toga, you, Twice and Compress will be driving the distraction vehicle. Stay close to us and don’t fall behind until it's time to split off. Everybody look fuckin’ sharp.” 

 Thirty seconds later, the sound of an engine running approaches headquarters. A faint beeping prompts you and the rest of the group out the door, single file. 

 Just outside, in the late morning sun, a shiny red sports car twinkles, idling by the sidewalk. Compress waves from the driver's seat. Twice nods to you and Dabi and climbs into the car. Toga hangs back for a quick second to squeeze your hand. “You’re gonna be fine,” she whispers, then skips towards the car. As her door swings shut, you swallow hard and turn to look up at Dabi, who’s scanning the streets coolly. 

“Where did Spinner go-?” You start to ask, just as a big, gray, nondescript van pulls up, goes around the sports car, and parallel parks just in front of it. 

“There’s our ride,” Dabi responds vaguely, then jerks his head in the direction of the van. “C’mon.” He walks briskly, not waiting for you to keep up. You scurry after him. Suddenly, he stops and turns, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Oh-here.” He digs into the large pocket of his coat and withdraws a plain black facemask and a blue baseball cap. “Put these on.”

You obey swiftly, tucking your long hair behind your ears and arranging the rest of your disguise carefully. When you’re done, you look back up at him. 

“Good?” You ask. 

“Good.” There’s something strange in Dabi’s voice, some feeling you can’t quite decipher, before he breaks away and turns back to the van. “Hurry up. We ain’t got all day, doll.”

You roll your eyes but follow him, letting him open up the back door to the van and climbing in, settling down in the spacious second row. Dabi slams the door behind you and goes around, jumping into the passenger seat. 

Spinner is waiting, eyes focused, his claws clenched on the steering wheel. 

“Good to go, Lizard,” Dabi drawls, throwing his feet up on the dash. “Let’s get this over with.”

 You watch the route carefully as Spinner drives, several blocks up, two rights, one left, and across a bridge to the other side of the city. The drive doesn’t talk long, maybe twenty minutes, half an hour, before you pull up to the gates of an industrial park. The guard at the gate waits for Spinner to roll down his window, looking bored. 

“What’s your business here?” He demands, but even his voice is listless, flat. 

“We’re here to make a delivery to the Doctor,” Spinner responds sharply. “You gonna let us in, or what?”

The guard’s eyes widen and he seems to jump to life. “Oh yes-yes, sir!” His hand slaps a button, causing the gates to creak open. “Apologies. You know where to go-?”

“Yeah, we got it,” Spinner bites, and the van drives through the gates seamlessly. 

Dabi has been staring out the windshield the whole time, lost in thought, but as Spinner navigates the van through the industrial park, he turns to look at you. “How ya feelin’, Rookie?” His smirk is wide. 

Your chin jerks up in defiance. “I’m fine,” you snap back, causing his smile to spread wider. “Good girl,” he mouths at you, and your cheeks heat up as he turns to face forward again.

Cocky bastard. 

The van stops in front of a huge, gray warehouse. Spinner throws the van in park and jumps out, Dabi following suit without a word. You scramble across the seat to jump out the side door and catch up with them. You glance over your shoulder, surprised to see that the sports car carrying the others is nowhere to be seen. “Where’s everyone else?” You wonder out loud. 

Dabi strolls on, not bothering to turn around as he answers you. “They’re doing what they’re supposed to do; being a distraction.”

Spinner coughs a laugh and you decide you’d rather not know what the other half of the team is doing right now. 

 A man is waiting on the side of the warehouse, a baggy black hoodie covering most of his features. He shuffles forward, hands in pockets as your small trio approaches him. 

“You with the League?” he mutters, keeping his face down except to chance an occasional glance up. 

“Yeah. Sorry, we didn’t bring our business cards,” Dabi bites out, causing the man to shuffle his feet. “Is the package ready or not? We don’t exactly have time to chit chat.”

“Yes sir. Here.” The man pulls a flat package out of his pocket- no bigger than a large jewelry box, and hands it off to Dabi. “Does the Doctor need anything else from us?”

“We’ll be in touch.” Dabi flashes a vaguely threatening smile before turning on his heel and leading you back to the van. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man glance curiously up at you before returning his gaze to the pavement. 

 You do your best to walk coolly back to the van after Spinner and Dabi, fully aware that your heart is thumping so loudly in your chest that you’re concerned the others might hear it. For a second, you have to take a step back and take a look at your current life; you are committing crime with the League of Villains. This is not where you thought you’d end up. Oddly enough, you’re more comfortable with this crowd than you ever were as a Hero, even on patrols. The thought sticks with you as your climb back into the van and settle into the same seat as before. Dabi shuts his door and glances back at you. 

“See, not bad. Halfway done.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, buckling and leaning back in your seat. 

“You did good keeping your cool,” Spinner remarks, as the van chugs back to life and he shifts into drive. “Not bad for an ex-Hero.”

You blink in surprise; this might be the first time Spinner’s actually spoken to you. “Oh. Thanks.”

 Spinner chooses to ignore this and go back to silence, which is fine. Dabi gives you one last look before turning forward himself. In the silence, you gaze out the window and watch as you depart the industrial back and get back on the road. 

The Doctor’s headquarters are a bit of a longer drive; about an hour outside of the city. You watch as the urban settings change into suburban ones; sidewalks and payphones changing to trees and small family homes, before the van moves further into the outskirts of suburbia and heads up a small mountain road. After a couple bumpy miles, you pull up to a plain, nondescript house; a very heavily guarded one. Villains of all shapes and sizes stand at every inch of the perimeter; some smoking, some talking amongst themselves, some playing cards. All stand to attention as the van pulls up, shuffling their weapons or flexing their muscles intimidatingly. One of them, heavily muscled and holding a weapon- is that a fucking machine gun?- approaches the van first, right at the top of the drive. He holds his hand out, motioning for Spinner to pull to a stop, and then approaches the window. 

“Name and business,” he says brusquely, the minute the window is down. Dabi leans across Spinner to answer just as brusquely. “We’re with the League, here to make a delivery to the doctor, on Shigaraki’s orders.”

The villain steps back to mutter something into the earpiece he’s wearing. He waits a second, listening, then nods. “Proceed. Park to the left.” 

Spinner drives the van the remainder of the way up the drive, parking in the designated spot to the left of the house. You follow Dabi and Spinner out of the vehicle silently, ignoring the chills that go through you as you glance around and see that every Villain in the yard is watching your group with narrowed eyes and scowls. One of them steps forward, indicating that he’s an escort. “You can follow me.”

Dabi leads the group behind the escort, glancing back at you. You fall into step behind Spinner, keeping your eyes straight forward as you walk. 

As it turns out, the house is set up like a business; you walk through the front door to the waiting room, where a receptionist sits behind a glass cubicle- probably bullet proof, you muse, as the door swings shut behind you. The escort stands off to the side as Dabi approaches the glass. The receptionist looks up, smiling brightly after her eyes travel up and down Dabi’s body. “Can I help you?” She chirps, annoyingly perky. 

Dabi doesn’t smile back. “Here to see the Doctor. I’ve got a delivery.”

The receptionist nods, tapping rapidly on her keyboard and skimming the computer screen. “Ah, there you are- you’re with the League?”

“Yep.”

“Alright. Just one minute.” The receptionist picks up the phone, punching a few buttons, then waits as the other end presumably rings. You watch her eyes light up as whoever’s on the other end answers. “Doctor, the League is here with something for you. Shall I bring it back?”

She listens again, then nods. “Understood, sir.” Hanging up, she looks back up at Dabi. “The Doctor would like to see you directly. If you’ll just follow me-” She stands up to scurry around and open a locked door beside the window. 

You follow Dabi and Spinner through the door, but at the last second, the receptionist grabs your wrist, holding you back. Instinctively, you go to jerk away, but her hold only tightens. Confused, you glance at her. 

Her smile is candy-sweet, the opposite of the vice-like grip she has on your wrist. “Sorry, dear. The Doctor asked for Dabi and Spinner specifically. You’ll have to wait out here.”

Panicking, you look at Dabi, who has stopped beside Spinner and is watching this all go down. You watch as he considers all of this, then looks at you. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.”

 You swallow hard, dread creeping up your throat at the thought of sitting in this waiting room, alone with strangers- Villains you don’t know- without the people you’re comfortable with. You nod anyway, wanting to show Dabi that you can follow orders, and allow the receptionist to tug you back into the waiting room. 

She smiles again, a fake sweet smile. “You can sit down, dear. I’m sure it won’t be long.” With that, she slams the door in your face.

Rejected, you turn and head back into the corner of the office with the chairs, sinking into one and turning your gaze to your lap. Your legs are pressed tightly together, betraying your attempt to hide your anxiety, and your fists are balled against your knees, the knuckles turning white. You flex your hands, forcing them to smooth out, and cross your legs, glancing around furtively. The escort is still standing by the door, hands wrapped around his weapon, observing you watchfully. The receptionist has returned to her work, typing rapidly away at her keyboard, a self-satisfied smirk resting at corners of her mouth. In front of you is a low table with stacks of magazines on it. 

What is this, a Doctor’s office? You think, before realizing that, technically, it is. With a sigh you reach forward, grabbing the first magazine you reach and opening it in your lap, just to have something to do. You pay no attention to the articles or pictures as you flip through, your eyes glazed over as your anxiety gets worse with each passing second your accomplices aren’t back.

What the hell could they possibly be doing back there? What is taking so long? 

Oh, god. What if something went wrong?

You get stuck on this horrifying thought, trying your best to keep a casual look on your face as your mind goes a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to escape if you get stuck here. A loud voice makes you jump.

“And who do we have here?” Another large man, one that you didn’t notice coming inside because your brain was having an anxiety spiral, plops down in the chair next to you, eyeing you like a meal. 

“I-I’m with the League,” you say shortly, avoiding eye contact as you rifle busily through the magazine in your lap. 

“Never seen a League Member who wasn’t welcome back to see the Doctor.” The man lets out a loud, booming laugh. You barely manage to keep from jumping out of your skin. “You new or somethin’?”

“Yeah. A new recruit.” 

“Interesting. A new recruit that we haven’t heard of yet. Usually Shigaraki tells the Doctor everything, as soon as it happens.” He scratches his scruff lazily. “Why are you wearin’ all that? Everybody out there thinks you’re real cute, only we can’t see your face.” Unbelievably, his hand reaches out as if to pull your mask down. You recoil sharply, slapping his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me!” Your voice comes out strong, biting. The man looks surprised, and then perturbed. Desperately, you glance around the room for backup; the secretary is ignoring the situation, probably used to this Villain harassing guests, while the escort stands by the door, watching in amusement. You're not gonna find any help here, you realize.

“Apparently you don’t know the rules around here, sweetheart. When you’re on our property, we’re in charge.” His voice is loud, threatening. “Take this shit off.”

A small struggle ensues; you go to slap the man's hand again and he seizes your wrist in a bruising hold, lifting you out of your chair. You struggle to get free, spitting curses and insults at him, while he attempts to hold you with one hand and pull your mask down with the other, crooning, "c'mon, sweetheart, don't be like that- just a peek- Ouch! You little fuckin' bitch-" as you punch him in the ear as hard as you could with your free hand. He drops you almost immediately and you fall to the floor with an oof, glaring up at him as he rubs his ear in annoyance and leans down to seize you again. "You little fucking cunt-"

“If you touch our rookie one more time, I’m gonna burn you to fucking bits.” The relief that runs through you at the sound of Dabi’s voice is embarrassing. You whip around from your place on the floor to see him and Spinner standing in front of you. Dabi’s eyes gleam wickedly. 

The Villian scoffs, standing up to flex his muscles at Dabi. He’s at least six inches taller and smirks down at him threateningly. 

“You wanna take me on, you fuckin’ punk? You tryin’ to threaten me?”

“Oh, it’s not a threat,” Dabi smiles. “It’s a promise. You don’t fucking touch her.” He turns to you. “We’re done here. Let’s go.” 

Scrambling up from the floor in relief, you try not to make your fear too obvious as you hurry around the edge of the wooden table and go right to Dabi’s side. He takes your arm, leading you outside in front of the escort, Spinner following silently behind you. 

Dabi all but pulls you to the van, throwing the door open. “Get in and stay in. Lock the door,” he says hurriedly, under his breath, and you don’t understand until after he slams the door shut and turns to face the Villain who has followed you outside, his weapon cocked and pointing at Dabi as he storms towards him. Horrified, you slam your hand down on the lock button. You can’t hear what he’s yelling at Dabi, but whatever it is gets cut short as Dabi lifts a palm and blasts him with a nonstop wave of blue fire. You jump in your seat and shriek as you watch the Villain try to run, screaming all the while, before collapsing to the ground, blue flames still licking at his skin. The other Villains around the yard watch in fury and horror before trying to rush forward. Spinner reaches Dabi’s side, both of them tensed to fight. 

“Hold on, hold on,” you hear from around the building, before an old, short man comes around the corner, hands in the air. He takes in the scene; his charred and smoking former employee, his enraged guards, and Dabi and Spinner, tensed by the van. 

“Everything alright?” the old man asks cheerfully, as if everything is normal. “Sorry, Doc. It couldn’t be avoided,” Dabi answers him, still tensed. 

Oh, so this is the Doctor. 

The Doctor considers this before shrugging. “That one was giving me some trouble, anyway. Apologies for the hubbub, Dabi. On your way. Give Shigaraki my best.” 

“Will do,” Dabi answers casually now, dropping his arms and strolling around the side of the van as Spinner quickly gets into the driver’s seat. As the door opens, you hear the Doctor addressing the other guards in the yard. “Stand down. Back to work, unless you want to join your friend here.”

Neither Dabi or Spinner even look at you until the van is safely down the driveway and speeding back along the main road. You’re too scared to speak, still shaking and trying to pretend that you’re not. You think you might be in shock- even as a Hero, witnessing murders was a rare and unfortunate thing. It makes you all too aware of the situation you’re in, how badly it can turn, what could happen to you if you disobey the League. 

It’s fucking terrifying. 

About a mile down the road, Dabi finally turns to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asks, in the same gentle voice he usually saves for Toga. Spinner picks up on this, glancing at him, wide-eyed, before turning back to the road. Dabi’s eyes don’t leave yours as you scramble for an answer. 

“Not really,” You finally croak, squeezing your hands together. Dabi reaches back and tucks a loose hair behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry it happened like that.” That’s all he says, giving you one last sober look before turning back to the front seat. 

“Thank you,” You finally say. Dabi nods, still facing forward. Spinner’s eyes dart from Dabi to you in the rearview mirror, but he stays silent, focusing on the drive. Following their lead, you turn back to the window, staring blankly at the scenery for the next hour before the streets become familiar again. 

When the van pulls up the headquarters, you’re surprised to see that the sports car is also already back. As you open the front door, Toga rushes out and hugs you. “Welcome back! How did it go?” 

“Uh-” you glance at Dabi behind you, Spinner just over his shoulder. “It was-”

“It was fine. Y/n did good.” Dabi doesn’t bother taking his coat or boots off, heading directly up the stairs. “I need to go check in with Shig. Then we’ll figure dinner out.” He glances at you. “Drink some water,” he instructs, before clomping up the stairs to Shig’s room. 

You stare after him, then notice that Toga is staring at you. 

“He killed someone in front of you. Right?” 

You gape at her, allowing her to take your hand and lead you to the couch. “How did you know?” 

“Because the first time he did it in front of me, I went into shock and he made me drink water for like, twenty minutes after I came out of it.” She smiles, a little sadly. “It’s scary.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say. Toga thinks for a minute and then jumps up, shaking her head. “Anyway, I’ll get you some water and then you can tell me everything about your first mission!”

 You spend the next forty minutes recounting everything to Toga, who’s curled up next to you on the couch, as you slowly sip your water. Eventually you feel more grounded, more present, between the water and the warmth of the room, the comfort of the couch. Toga listens, wide-eyed, beaming and nodding as you finish explaining the day's events. “Except for the murder part, it sounds like a really good first mission,” she says bluntly, and to your surprise, a giggle escapes your mouth. She looks at you in surprise as you begin to laugh harder. 

“What?” 

“‘Except for the murder part.’” You’re wheezing now, tilting off the couch at the surreality of the day. Toga can’t help but join in, the two of you collapsing on each other in a fit of hysterical giggles. 

That’s how Dabi finds you as he descends the stairs; you and Toga clinging to each other and laughing so hard that you both have tears rolling down your faces. Something in his chest swells. He’s never heard you laugh before, he realizes. Your laugh is sweet and bubbly, and he wants to hear more of it, but there’s business to be done. 

“Y/n.” You glance up, brushing the tears from your cheeks as you look at him. “Shig wants to see you upstairs.”

Oh, Jesus. You glance at Toga, who looks equally nervous and excited, and nudges you off the couch. You stand and join Dabi at the stairs, following him up. He leads you down a short hallway, knocking on one of the bedroom doors. “Shig. I’ve got y/n.”

“Come in,” Shig calls from behind the door. You tense, not knowing what to expect, but when the door swings open, Shig is seated in a beanbag chair, focusing on a video game. 

You internally breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, so maybe you’re not about to get whacked. 

“Shig. Focus.” Dabi sounds exasperated. Shigaraki hits the pause button before standing and turning to face you. 

“Dabi says you did well on the mission.”

You swallow hard. “I tried.”

“It was your first one. It didn’t need to be perfect. I’m interested in your story, y/n. From Hero to Villain in three days.” His eyes narrow at you, his head tilting slightly. “You really want to do this?”

You take a deep breath, gazing at the floor as you try to gather your thoughts neatly. “Being a Hero didn’t do anything for me. It’s only now that I’ve started working with you all that i realize how fucked up the Hero Commision is. I was a child. I was being trained to be a soldier. THey don’t care about your well-being. They don’t care about your health. They just want your Quirk power. That’s not a society I want for anyone, anymore. So, if working with the League can help shake the system a little bit, I’m here to help.” You chance a look up at him. “Let me help.” It comes out as a plea, soft and sincere. Shigaraki stares at you for a few long seconds, and then nods. 

“Welcome to the League, y/n.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

MerMay 2024 Day Fifteen Things go Belly-Up

Jack was very familiar with the rocks around his lagoon. He was easily able to navigate around them to the place where they all agreed to meet. And it looked like he was the first one who arrived there... or, almost the first. He could see a pair of green eyes glowing in a crack in the side of a tall pillar-shaped rock. Swimming downwards, he called out, “Anti? Are you... hiding?”

“I’ll come out when the rest of you all show up,” Anti muttered.

“Ha.” Jack grinned. “Alright, alright.” His smile then slipped. “Did you find one of those tags I mentioned? If it’s red, it should stand out a lot against your green fins.”

“Nothing red,” Anti said. “But... There’s a tiny... thing. I-I’ll tell you all later. When you’re all here.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. I’ll just float around out here while we wait for the others.”

Slowly, the rest of the group trickled in. Jackie came first, and then Chase and Schneep. Marvin and Jameson were the last to arrive, since they lived the farthest away. “Is this everyone?” Jackie asked, looking around. His eyes narrowed. “Where’s Anti?”

Schneep rolled his eyes. “Don’t sound so angry, Jackie.”

“I’m not angry! I’m just... cautious.”

“He’s here,” Jack said. “Anti? Do you want to come out?”

After a moment, Anti poked his head out of the crack in the rock. The others all stared at him. Chase gave a little, awkward wave. “Hey,” he said. Anti didn’t respond. He just stared.

“Good to see you are alright, Anti.” Schneep smiled. “Jack told you why we were all meeting, yes? Jameson and Marvin sent messages to the rest of us, but I do not know if they did that for you. They said Jack would.”

Anti nodded. “He did.”

“Right. Well, in that case, I did notice something,” Chase said. He dived down and put his tail up in the water. “Look. It’s very small, and it blends into the black part on my tail, but check out one of my fins.” The others took turns crowding around—except Anti, who stayed back. There was a small black dot on Chase’s fin, smaller than a fingerprint. It really did blend in. “It doesn’t bother me like how Jack said his did, but... could that be a tag, too?”

“Hmm... maybe?” Marvin said. “It looks pretty different from Jack’s.”

Anti inched out. “I, uh... found something too.” His tail curled up. Unlike a traditional fish, he had one long fin going down his back and one going down his front, which merged into his tail at the end. He pointed at a spot shortly before the end of his tail. “There’s a... black dot there.”

“Hmm... if you both have one, it is likely that it is indeed some sort of tag like Jack’s,” Schneep said. “How do we get them off?”

“Nothing magic can’t solve!” Marvin took his bag off, setting it on the ocean floor, and reached inside to grab a power stone. “Jameson, what do you think?”

Well, we’ll have to be very careful, Jameson said. Very precise. Perhaps a concentrated beam?

“I was thinking that, too.”

Anti swam backwards into the crack in the rock again. “I’ll just—work on taking it out by myself.”

“They’re not going to hurt you, Anti,” Jack said.

Anti’s eyes flicked around them. His gaze lingered on Chase, on the branching scars on Jameson’s wing, on the scars across Jackie’s face.

“Here, I’ll go first,” Chase said. He turned to Marvin. “Well?”

“Lie down on the ground, that’ll be easier,” Marvin said. Chase did so, lying on his stomach. Marvin and Jameson swam down next to him. “Jameson, do you mind holding his fin flat?” Jameson reached out and did so, flattening Chase’s fin like one would with a piece of paper, Chase staying very still as he did so. The runes on Marvin’s power stone started to glow. He pointed at the small circle, and a bit of seafoam green light darted out, hitting it. “There we are. You can let go, Jameson.”

As soon as Jameson did, Chase swam upwards again. “There we go. See, Anti? Everything’s fine.”

Anti was quiet for a moment. “...show it to me.”

Chase blinked. “Huh?”

“The tag, I think,” Jack said.

“Ohhhh.” Chase looked around, and scooped up the small black circle from the water, where it went floating after Marvin removed it. He swam up close to where Anti was hiding near the rock—

“Do you guys hear that?” Jackie asked.

Everyone stopped where they were. Yes, there was a strange... humming sound. Coming from the surface. They all looked up as a shadow passed overhead—

SPLASH!

“Swim!” Schneep suddenly gasped.

The merms started to scatter, but they weren’t fast enough—not nearly fast enough to avoid the heavy metal links that fell from the sky, through the shallower water, and to the ground, pinning most of them. It was a net. A net made of metal—chains like what boats used for anchors. Heavy iron balls lined the edges, making extra sure to hold it down. “Ow!” Jack shouted. “What?! Metal?!”

“Wh-what the stars is this?!” Jackie cried, trying to wriggle out from underneath it.

“Jameson? Jameson?!” Marvin tried to swim closer to JAmeson, but the net constricted his movements. Meanwhile, Jameson flailed wildly, some panicked whistles escaping his throat.

“H-how did they find us?!” Schneep gasped.

The only ones out of range of the net had been Chase and Anti, close to one of the rocks. Chase immediately swam back over and tried to lift up an edge of the net, but Anti stayed, frozen, for a while. Then he noticed a speck in the water. The black circle that Marvin had taken off Chase’s fin. He swam over and grabbed it, bringing it close to his face to inspect the item. It was very hard to see, but... there were tiny strings coming out of it, and even smaller bits of metal with strange patterns. Anti had seen the same strings and patterns on the inside of other human devices. Was this—was this—some sort of item to track their movements?!

Panic surged through Anti’s heart. He darted up to the surface, breaking into the air. The bright light hurt his eyes but he squinted through it, scanning the area. There was something in the sky! It was the thing making the humming sound! What was that, a flying boat?! Something with wings like a bird. As he watched, it got closer to the water and landed on the surface, sending up sea spray... then began moving towards where they were. And on the side of this flying boat... he saw a familiar logo of a trident circled by fish.

Anti’s eyes widened and he ducked back underwater. The first thing he did was curl his tail up, reaching for the small black circle on his own tail. He grabbed it and yanked, crying out as it unexpectedly hurt. Blood trailed from his fin, but there was no time to stop! He threw the tag as far as he could, then dove down towards Chase, who was still struggling to lift the heavy net. He grabbed him and started pulling him away.

“Wh-what’re you doing?!” Chase shouted. “We can’t leave them!”

“They’re coming!” Anti said. “I-it’s the trident group! W-we have to get out of here!”

“What?! TridentCorp?! Then we really can’t leave them!”

“Chase, you have to get out of here!” Jackie shouted. Nearby, Schneep had gone pale, his tentacles turning anxious green. “Find some way to get us back from the outside!”

“I can’t just let you get captured!” Chase shouted, distressed.

Anti hesitated for a moment—then he wrapped his arms around Chase from behind. Before Chase could do much more than shout “Hey—” he sent a pulse of electricity through the water. Chase slumped, eyelids fluttering. He would be fine. Just knocked out. Anti looked at the merms struggling under the net. “I—I-I’ll—W-we’ll—” Anti struggled to find the right words.

Jack looked at him and nodded. “We know. Now get out of here! Fast!”

Anti nodded back at him. He grabbed Chase, holding him close, and swam wildly away. There was nothing they could do right now. The net was too heavy. They had to get help. That was their only option.

[hellguarded-moved]

≥ @nezumivc103221 moved to beta from here_

the silence was, sometimes, worse than the constant complaints nezumi had to offer— especially when paired with such an unwavering stare. there was challenge in that look, he could tell, but it felt like there was still more to it that he wasn't getting— and that frustrated the hound.

but, even despite being somewhat unnerved himself, he didn't break that silence that bothered him. without a word, he accompanied the performer to stage, offering little more than a nod before eve appeared in front of many: as if to say, to reassure, that he was still here, would be here, if the situation called for it... and honestly? even if it didn't. he'd be here. for as long as the job paid— and for as long as he felt like he needed to protect the other. had he started taking it too personally again? putting his heart where it didn't belong? likely, and yet, he didn't stop.

he watched the performer do what he did best— act. it was such a jarring contrast to the man he knew from behind the scenes, closed doors. the attitude eve had was almost pleasant. if ignis didn't know any better, he would have started worrying that he might have been toyed with— but perhaps, more than anyone, he knew of the singer's true self. knew all the barbs and venom he could spit out, and he took them all in stride.

once hands were placed upon the microphone, he took that as his cue to depart from the backstage and instead infiltrate the crowd, as he usually did. being so close, right in the middle of it all, provided for easier means to take action, if needed to. it also allowed him to ocassionally cross eyes with eve herself— currently curious if, after their little clash, she'd even bother to look in his direction. ignis knew how to blend in— for the most part, he looked like nothing but another patron. but those that knew where to look would never miss the canid's fiery gaze.

when touches started to get a tad too risky, he wanted to act; naturally. fingers twitched at his sides, and while he was appalled on nezumi's behalf, he didn't follow through with his desires. for as disgusting a behavior as it was, it wasn't... threatening. not yet. another glance was cast towards the singer, to ascertain that he was okay, and it had his lips pursing upon seeing nezumi simply swallow it down. a heavy, though quiet, of his own escaped, head shaking a bit as he let it slide... this time.

he was pleased to see that beyond that, the performance went rather smoothly— it had the infernal exhaling another breath, this time, one of relief, with a palm placed over his chest. he added to the applause, as despite his professional standing towards the singer, he could still appreciate art where there was some— and nezumi's singing and stage acting alike had always been top notch. it was amidst the loud cheering from the others that he took his leave, weaving between everyone until he could slip unnoticed into the backstage area once more.

" if you want his hand, all i need is your word, " was the very first thing he said upon meeting nezumi in the back, already gripping at his coat to throw over his shoulders for some measure of comfort; there was a pack of cigarettes in the inner pocket of his jacket aswell, should the other want some.

[im-no-jedi]

MLWTBB: Master and Commander

Part 11 of the “My Life With The Bad Batch” series, a (mostly) canon compliant self-insert story set in “The Bad Batch”  

rated: T warnings: descriptions of food and eating, implied self-harm, gun violence relationships: Hunter/self-insert, Omega & self-insert (adopted siblings), The Bad Batch & self-insert chapter word count: 1900+ words

✨MLWTBB masterlist✨

summary: when Hannah’s already hectic life becomes almost too much to bear, Master Gildish gifts her a new companion to help ease the burdens, as well as give Hannah a new friend to live with. however, the Bad Batch are not so thrilled with Hannah’s new robotic ally, which causes major tension in Hannah’s relationship with Echo and Hunter.

notes: I made myself cry again with this one haha. I have no problem admitting a lot of my inspiration for Clank came from the movie “Short Circuit”. my love of robot characters in general is because of that movie, so I guess Clank (and Buddy and Gildish) is my little love letter to it (and all equally lovable robot characters, like Wall-E, the Iron Giant, and of course, the other droids in SW, just to name a few) 🥰

also, if you squint and look, this particular chapter was greatly influenced by a specific episode of The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh; that’s all I’ll say 😜

A/N: this story has not been proofread by anyone other than myself. so apologies for any uncaught errors 😬

previous chapter

Chapter 9: Just A Dumb Droid

______________________________________________________________

It was a sad time. The gloomy, cloud-filled skies of Ord Mantell made the already unpleasant atmosphere even more off-putting. Despite being in the early afternoon, the streets were dark and had a sense of despondency that would make even the most hardened individual uncomfortable. For some, that would manifest as fear or dread. But for others, it would simply put them in a downcast mood.

Clank was already in that place. His long, snout-like head hadn’t lifted since leaving Cid’s Parlor, and his flat, cone-shaped hat drooped over his round black eyes, casting a dismal shadow across them. Had anyone wandering the streets known he was a Battle Droid, perhaps they would’ve been intimidated by his shadowed appearance. But he kept the cloth that had been fashioned into a cloak wrapped tightly around his body, if only to give himself some sort of comfort. He honestly didn’t care if anyone recognized him, despite Hannah’s warnings. 

It all made sense now why she wanted him hidden in the first place. He was a killer, after all.

The market was still fairly busy at that time of day, which made it easier for Clank to blend in with the crowd. He wasn’t actively looking for trouble, but with everything Hannah had warned him about, it was only a matter of time before some sort of trouble found him first.

“I’d deserve it,” he told himself after questioning if someone might attack him on the street.

How many of these people would try to kill him once they found out what he was? The only thing keeping him from finding out was pure fear. The aggressive looks he’d gotten from the Clones were enough to terrify him into keeping his identity hidden. For now, at least.

A small gust blew past and rustled his cloak, which he still clung to protectively. His other hand grabbed the rim of his large hat to keep it from blowing away, and he gave a low sigh once it had passed.

“What am I even doing out here?” he questioned himself.

But he already knew the answer. He had nowhere else to go. The only other place he thought of going was back to Master Gildish’s workshop, but he had no idea of how to even get there. 

Maybe someone would be kind enough to give him directions. Not that he deserved their kindness. But it was still worth asking, if only so he wasn’t bothering anyone else wandering the streets with him.

“Excuse me,” Clank said after coming up to one of the stalls.

The stall-owner turned around and greeted Clank with a smile. Clank recognized them immediately from the day before. “Oh, hello again!” they cheerfully replied. “How’s that hat treating you?”

“Oh, uhh, fine! Great, actually! No problems with it so far!”

“Well that’s wonderful to hear. I knew that one would be a perfect fit for you.”

“It certainly does fit me perfectly!” Clank adjusted the hat for emphasis.

“You know,” the stall-owner said as they placed a few stray hats on a rack. “I have to thank you, honestly.”

“For what?” Clank asked, curiously cocking his head.

“I don’t often get a lot of business, much less business as pleasant as you are. It really was a breath of fresh air working with you yesterday. I’ve never had anyone so enthusiastic as you come ‘round here!”

Clank turned a bit sheepish and grabbed the back of his long neck shyly. “Aww... well you were very helpful, so thank you too!”

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” The stall-owner gave Clank a cheerful smile, which only made him turn more bashful. “You let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, ok?”

“Ok!” A few seconds of silence went by before Clank remembered why he was there in the first place. “Oh, by the way, do you know the way to Master Gildish’s workshop?”

“Ol’ Gildish? Yeah, he’s a ways down from here.” 

The stall-owner gave Clank directions to the workshop, and Clank kindly thanked them for their help before making his way in that direction.

“What a nice person,” Clank thought to himself as he walked. “It’s too bad I probably would’ve killed them during the war...”

Despite the nice interaction, Clank’s thoughts still lingered on his own transgressions of the past. How could anyone be so kind to something that was created for destruction? Granted, they didn’t know what he truly was under that hat they’d given him. And if they did, would they still have been so kind? So what if he had been friendly to them first? He was only that way because Master Gildish had wiped his original programming... right?

Something suddenly bumped Clank in the foot as he was walking, and it knocked him out of his thoughts. He looked down to see a small round object lying next to his foot.

“Oops! Sorry!” A shrill voice called out to him. Clank turned to see a young girl, even smaller than Omega, meekly standing off the side of the street. Several other children were gathered near her, equally sheepish. Their clothes were quite dirty, which wasn’t surprising considering the filthy state of the streets.

After staring at the orb for a moment, Clank bent down and picked it up. He gave it a good look over to make sure it wasn’t damaged, then called back to the girl, “no problem! Here ya go!”, as he held out the orb in her direction.

The girl seemed a bit nervous at first, but after some encouragement from the other children, she walked over to Clank and enthusiastically took the orb from his hands. “Thanks, mister!” she said, staring up at him with a grateful smile.

“Happy to help!” Clank gave her a small salute, and the girl giggled before skipping back to the other children, who waved at Clank as he walked away from them.

“Such sweet children,” Clank internally mused as he heard the sounds of the children laughing behind him. “I’m sure I would’ve tried killing them during the war too...”

The more Clank thought about the war, the more he wondered exactly what his purpose was back then. He knew he was a Commander, but of what? Other droids? And what were his commands? For all he knew, his sole purpose was to kill anything and anyone that stood in his way. That’s what the Clones had indicated to him anyway. 

Was that really his sole purpose? To kill? To destroy?

What else could he do?

Some rustling in a nearby alley suddenly drew Clank’s attention. At first, he thought it was a person getting ready to pop out and attack him. He instinctively pulled his cloak tighter against his body and took a defensive position. Nothing was coming out of the alley, although there did seem to be some movement around a stack of crates. 

Upon closer inspection, Clank discovered a few rodent-like creatures rummaging through the crates. One of them had a piece of rotted food in its mouth, and Clank let out a sigh of relief.

“Boy, you really gave me a scare there, little guy!” he said to the creature.

The little rodent stared at Clank curiously for a moment, its tiny pink and brown nose twitching. Then it scurried off the crate and into a dark corner with its mouth still full of food.

Then Clank heard some soft squeaking noises coming from one of the other crates. Another rodent creature was perched at the edge and frantically wiggling around, like it was anxious about something. Clank watched it for a moment and saw that it kept peeking inside the crate, so he did the same. 

To his surprise, another rodent creature was lying in the crate, unmoving, but shivering like mad. Claw marks lined the sides of the crate, like something had been trying to get out.

“Aww, you poor thing,” Clank said as he peered down at the shivering creature.

Very gently, Clank reached into the crate and cupped his hands around the little rodent. It continued to shiver as he pulled it out, while the one perched on the edge was squeaking like crazy at him.

“Don’t worry,” Clank reassured the anxious one. “I’m just helping your friend get free. See?” 

With that, he unfurled his hands to reveal the shivering creature to the other, who began squeaking more at the sight of it. Clank very gently sat the creature down on another nearby crate that was shut, and the squeaking rodent hopped over to greet its friend excitedly. Although still a bit shaken, the newly freed rodent hobbled onto its feet to give the other a few sniffs before the two rodents curled around each other with happy squeaks.

“Awwww,” Clank cooed at the sight of them. “Glad you’re together again! Stay safe, little guys!” He gave the rodents a salute, then headed back out into the street again, listening happily to the contented squeaks behind him.

“I wonder if even those little guys wouldn’t have survived the war,” Clank pondered to himself. “Probably not, considering how terrible I was...”

Clank had fully convinced himself by then that there was no hope for him. The war was over, and he no longer had a purpose. What does one do after no longer serving the purpose they were created for?

Hannah knew. She had told him already. “You’re really not much different from the Clones,” she’d said to him the day before. Clank asked what she meant by that, and she very plainly said both he and the Clones were created for war purposes. “Forced soldiers”, she’d called them, made to fight in a war they had no real opinion of. And now, that war didn’t even exist anymore. 

The Clones had been able to find a new purpose for themselves, so why shouldn’t Clank be any different?

The words of the pale Clone with a scomp arm began to fill Clank’s memory now, like a holovid changing from one scene to the next. “Nothing will change the fact that that droid was a killer.” A “dumb droid”, he’d called him. And that’s really all he was. He’d messed things up with Hannah’s family, like the dumb droid he was.

Hannah didn’t need him. She had her family to take care of her, after all. 

And if Hannah didn’t need him... did anyone really need him?

It wasn’t that far to Master Gildish’s workshop by then. But Clank didn’t feel a need to go there anymore. What good would it do? All he would do is be a bother, a nuisance, a “dumb droid”.

So instead, Clank meandered off the beaten path into another dark alley. Garbage littered the ground, and a few of the rodent creatures scurried away as he approached. A crate just big enough for him to sit on sat in the darkest and dankest corner of the alley. With a heavy sigh, Clank sat down on the crate, letting his hat droop over his face solemnly.

“I won’t bother anyone here,” he said to himself in a sluggish tone. “I just hope... Master Hannah... will be happy again...”

The alley went quiet, save for the soft rustling of the rodents in the garbage. A gentle wind blew through and rustled the cloak wrapped around Clank’s body. But he didn’t move. Clank’s body now sat motionless, like a statue positioned on one of the crates.

Like a soldier with no war to fight in and no purpose in life.

[next chapter]

[angcrmanagcmcnt]

Anonymous said: Run Fast, Little Beast.

Break my muse. | Accepting!

Anger is not scared of many things. She’s seen many a horror in her short life, and half of the things that have happened to her alone would likely be enough to scar a human for several lifetimes. She has rules for herself to avoid the things she does fear, and sometimes they have to be bent a little in order to adapt(or be broken outright, in some cases).

But there is one boundary, one rule that she never breaks.

Or, she hasn’t broken until now.

Rule 3: Always keep moving. Never stay in one place longer than five days.

She’s been stuck in this room for six days now, and Anger has never done well staying in one place for too long. Well.....really, she isn’t stuck. She can leave at any time. 

She just doesn’t like the idea of who lurks outside. Of course, there’s Arlott. She’d seen him here, when they had initially arrived. He was mostly blended into the crowd, but Anger knew how to look for him by now. She knew the feeling of being watched a little too well by now to not recognize the eyes on her.

Their game had already begun.

So why was the other seeker not joining in?

That military man—Mustang, as she’s come to know—he wasn’t playing. She hadn’t seen him at all, he wasn’t participating. She knew he was a player, though, how could he not be playing the game? Maybe he was and he just wasn’t playing right. Maybe she’d have to make it easier for him.

She doesn’t want to; she really doesn’t want to, but....that’s how the game goes. She has to show a new player the rules because it seems like Arlott hasn’t bothered to yet. 

Maybe he just wanted a head start.

Maybe it was a trap.

Whatever it was, Anger is not keen on leaving this room.

Or, she wasn’t.

Four little words is all it takes for her to tense, for the hairs on the back of her neck to raise and her ribcage to constrict around her lungs. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to move, hard to do anything. She can feel him looming behind her, feel a hand on her shoulder and words whispering in her ear—

“ You can’t run from this, little beast. ”

A sudden surge of something—adrenaline, rage, whatever it may be—allows her to move again, to turn around and —

There is no one there. It’s just her.

And yet, still, she can feel that grip on her, feel the breath against the back of her neck, and her heart is beating out of control. She wants to run. She wants to leave, it doesn’t feel safe here anymore—

But she can’t.

She can.

She can leave at any time.

She just doesn’t like the idea of who lurks outside.

[thighs-of-betrayal-blog]

A Glorious Moment in Sakaar

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: You’ve always disliked Loki, but when you end up stranded with him on an unknown planet, you put your hatred aside in order to work together. Turns out, the only thing you really hate is how much you actually like him. 

Warnings: weapons, violence, enemies to lovers, implied smut

A/N: Had this in my drafts and just decided to post it... I’m definitely in a Loki mood on this fine day haha. 

I hope you all enjoy and as always, feedback is appreciated :)

Loki Masterlist

Out of all the people in the world who you could’ve gotten stranded with on an unknown, trash planet, Loki is the last person you’d wish to accompany you. 

As soon as the two of you get thrown off the Bifrost and land on random dirty roads, he speaks. “Well, this looks rather unpleasant.” 

Rolling your eyes, you don’t bother to respond, instead opting to scan the area around you. Wherever you landed, it’s heavily polluted. 

“I think I’d rather have ended up in Hel,” Loki complains, his hands on his hips as he surveys with you. 

“I wish you had.” 

Loki looks over at you and chuckles. “What? Don’t want to be stranded here with your favorite God?” 

You pretend to frantically look around. “What do you mean? I don’t see Thor anywhere.” 

“Very funny.” 

“I know I am,” you say before smirking at him and walking away. Loki is quick to match your pace. 

“Let’s try to find some type of civilization and figure out an escape plan.” 

Continuing to walk, you head towards a tall skyscraper-like building that you see in the distance. “Already on it.” You point ahead to show Loki. 

Loki scoffs. “No need to point. I noticed it a while ago.” 

“Sure you did.” 

“I did. I’m a God for crying out loud. I sense things long before-”

A knife sits at the base of your throat, stopping you in place. You look over at Loki who’s in the same predicament. 

“Loki?” you ask before you’re pulled back harshly, the knife lightly grazing your skin. Loki growls, lunging towards you. 

“Hurt them and you’ll all suffer merciless deaths by my hand.” 

You gasp at Loki’s protectiveness. Is it possible he cares for you? No, don’t even think about it. You hate this man. Remember?

The man behind Loki laughs at him before looking over at his partner. “I think the Grandmaster would like this one.” 

The person behind you nods. “Let’s take ‘em in.” 

You share one last glance with Loki before a bag is thrown over your head, preventing you from seeing anything else.

---

The bag’s removed from your head and you squint, your eyes adjusting to the harsh overhead lighting. You’re strapped to a chair, seated right next to Loki. 

In front of you is a man. He’s tall in nature, just like Loki, and he’s smiling at the two of you. 

“Where the hell are we?” You ask, struggling against the restraints. 

The unknown man walks up to you before speaking. “Now, there’s no reason to do that. I’m just simply feeling you out before deciding whether to kill you or not.” 

Again, Loki speaks up, surprisingly coming to your defense. “You’ll have to get through me before you even think of touching them.”

The man laughs at this and turns his attention onto Loki. “You must be the one they said I’d like… Seems like they were right. I do like you.” He claps his hands together. “Okay, so here’s the deal. You’re on my planet, Sakaar. I’m what they call the Grandmaster and usually with newcomers, I’d either kill them or throw them into the pits… which I guess is also death, but that’s not the point! The point is I like you two… especially you.” He points at Loki. “So, great news! You’re welcome to stay, I mean once people land here, they never really leave…” He awkwardly smiles at that, not knowing what else to say. 

You look over at Loki, who’s already staring your way. The two of you gaze at each other silently before the Grandmaster once again claps his hands. “Let’s get the cuffs off these two!” 

Once the cuffs are opened, you rub your wrists and stand up. The Grandmaster motions for the two of you to get away. “Go! Go mingle and have some fun!” 

You look around the room and notice a gathering of people a few feet away. They’re all drinking and dancing, seemingly having the time of their lives. 

You grab Loki’s arm and guide him towards the crowd. “C’mon, we gotta find a busy area to talk.” 

Loki pulls his arm from your grasp. “Shouldn’t we find somewhere quiet to talk privately?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, because then someone might hear us.” 

“So instead, we’re to talk in the middle of a gathering?” 

Shaking your head in irritation, you gesture towards the group of people. “They all seem drunk! Sounds like the perfect opportunity to blend in and discuss.” 

Loki sighs. “Very well. I need a drink first.” 

As he walks towards the bar, you once again grab his arm, stopping him in place. “What’re you doing?” 

“I just told you. I’m getting a drink.” 

“We need to be level-headed for this.” 

He scoffs. “Darling, I really think you’ve forgotten that I’m a God. I can’t get drunk.” 

“Yes, you can. I’ve witnessed it multiple times.” 

He shakes his head. “I was just full.” 

“That’s not the point! Just please-” You look towards the dancefloor. “Dance with me.” 

“Pardon me?”

Instead of answering, you grab his hand and drag him over to the other dancers, pulling him flush against you, your back to his chest. You swear you hear Loki gasp as you sway your hips against him. 

“What’re you doing?” His mouth is right next to your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist tightly. Your body heats up with his touch and you want to scream over its betrayal. 

You turn your head slightly to look up at him. “We need to blend in.” 

As he stares down at you, you get lost in his eyes. They’re an exquisite, light blue, pulling you in and making you forget about the situation around you. Erasing those thoughts from your mind, you focus on the plan. “I say we find where their weapons are placed. Steal some and then find a ship to escape back to Asgard on.”

“Your plan sounds impossibly easy.” 

“Maybe it will be.” 

“You know just as well as myself that it won’t be. But, I’ll go along with it. It’s not the worst of plans you’ve thought of and I fear we don’t have many other options.” 

“Gee, thanks.” You spin around in his arms so you’re now facing him, chest to chest. Loki’s staring down at you, his eyes blazing. One of his hands moves to your face, grabbing your chin and tilting your face upwards. He licks his lips, his tongue sliding out to swipe across his bottom lip. You watch and you can’t help but wonder what his mouth would feel like against yours. 

He leans down until his face is only inches from yours and you find yourself panting with a neediness you haven’t felt in a long time. Loki’s staring at your lips, ready to claim them for himself-

You remember where you are and pull away quickly, putting some distance between the two of you. “What’re you doing?” 

Loki grins. “Just blending in, darling. You didn’t seem to mind.” 

Trying to steady your rising heart rate, you take a deep breath. “Let’s just go find their weapons.” 

Loki gestures for you to walk in front of him. “After you.”

---

Finding and stealing weapons turned out to be easier than you thought. Loki managed to grab multiple knives, as well as the same giant gun that you did. 

Now, you’re heading towards the ship’s garage, intending to steal the best one you come across. You’re in an elevator, heading up to the top floor. As the doors are about to open, Loki puts his arm out in front of you. “I hear voices on the other side. Follow my lead.” 

You nod your head. The doors open, revealing two guards with guns. In an instant, Loki has them both on the ground, knives stabbed into their chests. 

He turns to look at you and grins. “Told you they’d come in handy.” 

“You just wanted to show off.” 

“For you? Always.” 

You roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today and follow Loki towards a large, circular ship. “You think they’d have more guards in this area.” 

Loki walks over to a station pressed against the wall, searching for the ship’s key. “You’d think, but let’s not stick around to find out.” Once he locates the key, he picks it up. “Ah, got it!” 

The elevator opens back up, revealing ten new guards. 

“Uh, Loki?” 

Loki turns just in time to see five guards running full speed at him. He laughs before throwing the gun to the floor, placing the ship key in his pants, and pulling out two knives. “Well, hello. This is going to be fun.” 

Across the room, you’re shooting at the other five guards, backing up as they move forward. You manage to knock three of them to the ground and drop the gun as the other two come running at you, full speed. 

“Y/N!” Loki yells. 

You turn to see him throwing you a knife and you catch it midair. Turning back to the two guards, you smirk. “Unfortunately for you two, I’m rather skilled with knives.” 

“Not as skilled as myself though, just to be clear!” 

You chuckle at Loki’s comment. “That’s what he tells himself to sleep better at night.” 

Right after you say those words, you’re lunging at the guards, slicing your knife into one of their thighs. They hiss out in pain and you use the opportunity to grab them, placing your knife at the base of their neck. The other guard rushes you and you kick out, hitting them square in the stomach before dragging your knife across the captured guard’s neck, causing him to fall to the floor. You fall down and roll over, jumping back onto your feet before the other guard can tackle you. 

Maneuvering around the guard, you swipe your leg out, tripping him up, causing him to fall to the floor. You roll onto the floor behind him and wrap your thighs around his neck, effectively cutting off his air supply. Once he’s knocked out, you get back up, wiping sweat off the top of your eyebrow. Loki is staring at you, an impressed look on his face. You stare back at him, admiring how he looks. He’s leaning against the ship, his hair disheveled with his arms crossed over his chest. The guards he fought are scattered across the floor, each one either dead or knocked out. 

He walks up to you, his tall frame towering over you. “It was rather hot to see you beat up those guards.” His hand reaches down towards your face, his thumb wiping a few spots of blood off your cheek. 

You close your eyes, trying to get a hold of yourself. When you reopen them, Loki is back over towards the ship, looking at you. “Ready, darling?” 

Letting out a shaky breath, you will your legs to follow him onto the ship.

---

A gentle shake to your shoulder wakes you up. Slowly opening your eyes, you come face to face with Loki, who’s looking down at you with a small smile on his face, his hand still resting on your shoulder. You stare at his hand and he pulls it away before clearing his throat. 

“We’re almost back at Asgard.” 

You nod. “How long was I out?” 

“Two hours? I didn’t want to interrupt since it was the first time you looked peaceful in years.” 

Getting up, you glare at him. “Has anyone ever told you how charming you are?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes. Quite a few.” 

“I’m shocked.” You walk to the front of the ship, taking a seat in the pilot’s chair. “This thing on autodrive?” 

Loki moves to take a seat next to you. “No, I figured I’d let it go so we can crash into the nearest crater and die. Put you out of your misery.” 

“Out of my misery?” 

“Yes, since you so clearly hate being around me.” 

Sighing, you turn the chair so you’re facing him. “Who said I hated you?”

Loki mimics you. “Nobody. I can just tell.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Well, maybe a little. But, not for the reason he thought.

He raises an eyebrow. “No?” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “It’s fine if you do. Most individuals I’ve encountered end up hating me.” 

“Well, I’m not like most individuals.” 

He smiles at that. “No, you’re most certainly not.” 

Nervous, you start picking at the arm of the chair. It’s Loki, for crying out loud. The man you can’t stand. So, why is he making you feel this way?

“You almost kissed me in Sakaar. Why?”

The question leaves your mouth before you can even think about the consequences. However, Loki doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he seems excited by the question, his eyes lit up in amusement. 

“I told you. We needed to blend in.” 

“We were already blending in by dancing. No one was even sparing us a second glance.” 

“No? Well, maybe I just wanted to kiss you then. For my own pleasure.” 

His confession spills over you like a bucket of ice water. Your body is both hot and cold, feeling too much at once. 

Your mouth slightly opens as you gasp quietly. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” 

All of a sudden, Loki’s moves closer to you. Too close. You can feel his breath wash over your face as his hand slowly crawls up your arm. “I may lie quite frequently, but when it comes to you, I only tell the truth.” 

With a surge of confidence, you grip the front of his leathered shirt. “Prove it to me then.” 

He growls before smashing his mouth onto yours. His lips are everything you’ve ever imagined. Soft and unmistakingly yours. 

“You’re mine now, darling. All mine,” he whispers into the kiss. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you onto his lap, your legs dangling off the sides of the chair. “Say it. Say you’re mine.” 

“I’m yours,” you manage to say, moaning when he bites down on your lower lip. 

After one more kiss, he rests his forehead against yours. “You and I, darling, have a lot of catching up to do when we get back.” He runs his fingers over your thigh. “The things I’m going to do to you. You better prepare yourself.” 

Gulping, you shiver at his promise. This ship couldn’t get you to Asgard fast enough. You’ll let him ruin you, from the inside-out. But, only him. Only Loki. You grin at the thought before leaning in to kiss him again.

[likeastarstar]

9:20 PM- Jungkook

For what it's worth, you're a really good liar.

It's not a commendable talent, sure, but it was a handy one.

You weren't sure when it started, but somewhere along the line you started playing a character instead of being yourself. You noticed it got you farther, hiding your real emotions and thoughts in favor for just remaining as neutral as possible. Holding your cards close to your chest was a habit you picked up early on in life and it has saved you from a lot. It was just easier to always be happy in front of others, pretending that nothing bothered you. People seemed to appreciate it, praising your good natured tendencies and positive outlook.

But it also meant you were lonely.

No one knowing how you really felt was a double edged sword that would only nick at your heart at night when you were left with the emotions you had shoved deep down inside. They overflowed and suffocated you, buried under its weight.

No one really noticed it was fake- no one except for Jeon Jungkook.

You didn't really know him that well, you had a couple mutual friends and would see him around often enough but didn't speak to him willingly. To be honest, he made you uncomfortable. He had a careful gaze that watched you like a hawk when you walked into the room, narrowing his eyes when you spoke. You felt like you had to watch the lies you smiled through in front of him, like he had x-ray vision of something.

Your worries were confirmed one day, when you were having a particularly bad day but your friend invited you out. The bar they chose was crowded, loud enough to drown out all of the conversations and blend them into a cacophony of general popularity.

"So are you always like that or what?"

You snapped your head towards Jungkook, frowning at the question. "Like what?"

"Oh, you know, so cheery and sparkly," Jungkook said in a flat tone, throwing up sarcastic jazz hands with wide eyes punctuating the word 'sparkly'.

You searched for anyone in the vicinity to get you out of this conversation but came up short, everyone else was busy in their own conversation, "I'm a happy person. Is that a crime?"

Jungkook snorted and shrugged, "No, but nothing seems to bother you. Like- anything. I don't think I've ever seen you in a bad mood. It's freakish, unnatural. Almost like it's fake."

You stared at the ground, unsure of what to say, how to defend yourself. How did this guy see through you when your own best friend couldn't? Even your parents believed your smiles and easy going words. How had he figured it out?

"And you know what's weirder?" He continued, "I asked around about you and no one else seems to ever recall a time where you were anything but happy. I heard you broke up with a guy after like a three year long relationship and barely even talked about it afterwards."

You felt a spike in your heart at the mention of your last relationship that ended for multiple reasons but equated to you crying your eyes out for months because you just couldn't match the level of perfection you had built up for that long. By the end of the relationship, you were losing your mind trying to keep up with the version of you that your ex thought was real. Jungkook was right about one thing, you didn't let anyone know how distressed you were over it, covering the dark under eye circles with extra concealer and smiling when someone asked if you were okay. You pushed the feeling away, choosing to focus on the fact that Jungkook was asking about you- digging up information like you were some type of criminal.

"I still don't see how that's a bad thing."

"I find it interesting," he shrugged. "Do you just not feel anything but happy? Is it like a chemical imbalance or something?"

"No- it's self control." You snapped, crossing your arms tightly.

Jungkook smile only grew at your expense and widened his eyes with...excitement?

"There it is- anger. See, I've seen you annoyed, which you normally are when you speak to me, but now I've seen you angry. So why is it that the people who've known you your whole life haven't seen that from you? Not even your best friend, who said you two have never even gotten in an argument." He analyzed. "What is that about?"

You tried to find some kind of an excuse, coming up short. You're normally a perfect liar- so why couldn't you come up with something to get Jungkook off your back?

"I'm being harsh," Jungkook sighed. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, another emotion that he noticed. He smirked slightly but ignored it, stepping closer to you instead. He looked down at you from the slope of his nose, tilting his head slightly. Large eyes on yours, you felt weirdly vulnerable under his gaze, "I'll stop, but I'm just saying- it's not natural. Everyone needs a release, I can be that for you, if you want."

"Why would I say yes to that?" You grumbled kicking your feet idly. He was so close to you that you were beginning to get scared that he could sense the nervousness wafting off of you, but that only seemed to make him more interested in you.

"Because I already see through you," He explained. "If you are going to be honest with anyone, why not me? Plus, I dunno- you're interesting. A lot more interesting than anyone I've met in a long time. Call me nosey, I wanna know what's going on in that head of yours."

You snorted, rubbing your temples with the bottoms of your palms soothingly, knowing that what was in your head would terrify a person if they really took a peek in. You stared at him, studying the impassive look he was giving you, trying to tell if he was bad news or not. He probably was, considering how uncomfortable you still were.

"Come on, aren't you lonely?" He asked, nudging your shoulder slightly.

You were. It was the only thing stopping you from outright denying him. The simmering curiosity that you felt to figure him out as much as he was trying to figure you out. It was the curiosity, intrigue, and an underlying sense of...relief.

Finally- someone saw through your lies.

masterlist.

[minty0017]

A secret between just the two of us (Nami x Robin)

"Are you new here?" He asked, with a smirk plastered on his face, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at Robin's body, judging every detail of it.

"yes"

"You are quite beautiful" Robin turn to face elsewhere, forcing a blush. "But I don't see the most important one! What is going on!!" But it wasn't long before everyone's attention turns into the other woman, the one that everyone was waiting for, the only woman that the shogunate couldn't take his eyes off.

"I am here" Komurasaki fans herself, as she proudly sat next to the shogunate. Robin takes advantage of her presence in the room and quietly leaves.

They had a mission, and the mission was to gain important information on Kaido. To help Luffy and the others to defeat Kaido. But that wasn't the only thing she was looking for, her main search was the Ponegliff, Robin was confident the Ponegliff was invented here, she was sure that it was hidden here somewhere.

She enters the room that looked old and mysterious. Shuffling through every drawer and looking for anything that was worth to look for.

"Are you looking for something?" Robin freezes in her place, swallowing thickly as her gaze fells over the ninja's that had surrounded her.

Nami had to admit the call she received from Robin had settle a panic through her mini heart.

"This is Orabi, I am sorry, but I was discovered by the enemies!"

"What? they found Robin??"

"There are some ninjas in the castle, 11 of them at least!" It didn't help a bit to hear Robin huffing and rushing through the end of the call.

"I am sure they will go after Orabi! Let's go protect her Onami!" Shinobu spoked, Cleary worried for the other woman's safety which had bother Nami even more.

"Right! Robin where are you??" but instead of the elegant soft voice, she heard a drunken manly voice at the end of the call.

"Oh, you are geisha!" she heard him say and there the call ended abruptly. Despite her worry Nami could still feel the jealousy running through her mini heart. She chewed her bottom lip, frowning at the tiny snail.

"Shinobu..." she squeezed the life out of the snail, before glancing at the other woman.

"I need to go down there."

"What?! that's too risky for a youthful woman like you we can have Bonekichi look for Orabi--"

"It will be easier if I just blend into the crowd and look for her, it won't be too hard." Nami spoked, already jumping down from the attic.

"Onami! You can't! If your identity is exposed--" But Shinobu couldn't sneak in to finish her sentence as Nami had already disappeared from her sight. She sighs, calling Bonekichi letting him know about the change.

Her experience and what she had seen made it very easy for her to pretend like a Geisha. As for the clothes, she "borrowed" them from one of the women in the banquet hall and wore a mask to conceal her identity. The crowd was too busy drinking and laughing so they didn't question much about her identity. The mood was just perfect and all Nami had to do was hope Robin would come back here, it was the safest place, the older woman had to be here.

"I want to drink the night away with you!" The sudden loud laughter of the shogunate had drawn the attention of Nami and there her heart had itched as she saw the other woman flirt with the ugly looking bastard.

as if, she would never.

"Your words... Even if you are joking, they make me happy." The ginger could feel her heart suddenly taking a break, she holds her breathe, watching the two giggling and laughing.

"Oh no-no-no, I am not joking, I am being serious."

"Oh... I am so grateful... Now my lord..." The lump in her throat had tightened as she saw the older woman, blush with ease and sneak her way into the shogun's ears, whispering and smiling, sitting down on his lap. Of course, she knew all this was just a pretend, so why did she feel this way? Nami finally lets go of her tight grip and exhales

"Why am I even stressing out for? Robin can handle herself!" She scoffs, taking off the mask her smile slowly disappears but it didn't last long as her attention was suddenly on the woman that had just passed by her. She tilts her head to the side, watching the scene as it played out. The woman eventually got the shogun's eyes within seconds, and Robin and quickly drifted away.

"Orachi-sama... doesn't he know the other side of her?" One of the Geisha next to her spoke with a frown.

"Even if he learns about it, she will evade reapproach with that prettiness." Nami lets the information sink in as she watches the girl and the shogunate. Slowly other negative comments were made from the crowd, and Nami did nothing but listen to each and one of them losing focus of Robin who had already disappear from her sight.

"He is still afraid of Kozuki oden's retainers who were wiped out two decades ago... How ridiculous." from then on, the conversation suddenly shifted to the shogunate and eventually everyone in the room started snickering behind him, but not a moment later, from the distance, Nami made out a kid who looked a bit too young to be in the banquet started laughing drawing everyone's attention in the room. Her eyes shifted at the shogunate who look extremely furious.

"...Because everyone is taking him for a fool" Nami's eyes widen, impressed by the little girl's bravery to speak such words.

"How obnoxious-- I AM THE SHOGUN" The shogunate spoke, boiling with anger as he slowly takes out his sword, ready to slash the girl.

"Otoko-chan!!"

That voice?!

Nami eyes averted at Robin, wondering how she knew about the little kid but that was a time another day, the fear the crowd had in their eyes. No, it was obvious he was going to kill her.

"My lord! she is just a kid!!" Nami spoked, already nervous and hesitant of her next move but whatever it was she was not going to let a kid die tonight. Before taking out her weapon, a girl had already made a quick move and slapped the shogunate which cause the crowd gasp in shock. She quickly wore her mask and shifted through the crowd only to hold a grip on Robin's wrist. It seems like she had safely landed the kid with her devil fruit powers.

"Nami?" The ginger takes out her mask, holding on the older woman tightly.

"We need to get out of here and fast." She dragged the other woman only to let go to grab the kid and run out.

"What about the ninja's do you know a way out?!" Robin yelled running behind her. Nami didn't replied, only focusing on finding a cliff somewhere she can jump off from.

Reaching to the bench she founds what she had been looking for and turns around to glance at the older woman as she takes out the kite she had borrowed from Shinobu. A heat rises on her cheeks.

"I need you to hold on the kid, and with your other hand hold on to me."

"w-what, how am I supposed to?!" and before each of them know it, the shogunate had already turn into his true form.

"BRING THE KID TO ME THIS INSTANT!" Panic rushed in through Robin, she had wrapped her arm on the younger girl's shoulder and the kid between them.

"She is going to fall off-- you should just--"

"I am not leaving anyone behind." Nami demanded. "Otoko-chan, hang in tight." She mutters at the kid.

"Nami- wait we are going to fall--" but before Robin can finish her sentence, Nami had already jumped off-- which had cause Robin to grip on her tightly closing her eyes.

But nothing horrible had happened. She felt the gentle breeze brushing against her skin and she glances down only for panic to rise in again as felt the kid slipping.

The older woman shifted into a comfortable position where her legs to wrapped around the ginger's waist and pulls the younger girl's body closer to herself. A sigh leaves from her lips as she rests her chin on top of her shoulders tightly holding onto her.

"Next time let me be in charge." The whisper had set Nami's cheeks on fire, she chuckles nervously.

"It would be too risky for you to use your devil fruit powers in front of everyone. Your identity would have been exposed." The soft giggles that left from Robin had tickled her neck, and before she knew, she felt a kiss on the side of her neck.

"My hero." Robin whispers again and Nami started choking on her own salvia, causing the flight to be shaky.

"Robin!!!" The ginger yelped, trying to draw her focus back on the land.

"What's wrong?"

"You-... You can't just kiss me out of nowhere! I am trying to bring us back down safely" she huffs out, hoping the other woman doesn't notice how red she was beginning to become.

"Hm? You don't like it?"

"How is otoko-chan?"  Robin glances down, a soft groan leaves from her lips.

"I think she has passed out."

"What?!!" Nami swallows, finding a small beach to land on. " we are almost there, a bit longer" she mumbles.

And as she promised, she safely lands on the beach, slowly removing Otoko from Robin and gently setting her on the sand. Then her eyes averted to Robin's ripped dress which had exposed her long slander legs. She walks over, kneeling to take a look on the dress.

"I might have rushed us through, I could... buy you a new one. Take it as a way of me apologizing." A hand gently tilt her head upwards, forcing her to face the older woman and before she knew, the older woman had already closed the distance  between their lips and slowly pushed the ginger on the sand.

"Robin" Nami yelp, covering her lips as she turned completely red. "What was that for?? You can't just kiss people"

"You don't like it?"

"T-that's not the point!" A giggle left from the raven hair as she sat on top of her sighing in relief. Her fingers trailing her chin then back at her lips, smudging the ginger's lipstick.

"Were you jealous? I understand if you were worried about me but were you jealous at the banquet?"

"J-jealous? Why would I be jealous?" Nami glanced anywhere but the woman in-front of her.

"So you would rather have me spend the rest of the night with the shogunate?" there was a sudden pressure in her tone and Nami knew the other woman was being completely serious. She frowns at the change of the mood, confused at what Robin was trying to get at.

"With a guy like him? No of course not, Even if you were into him, I would never let it happen."

"Mm~ how so?" A chill ran down her spine as the raven hair placed kisses all over her neck. She sits up, stopping the other girl before she could leave any marks.

"Are you feeling okay? Did you drink?" The ginger hair managed to free herself from the other woman and checked her temperature. Only a smile can be seen on Robin's face as she listens to the younger woman ask her numerous questions.

"Am I not allow to kiss you?" She blurts out, raising a brow.

"Its not... Luffy and Sanji, what if the other guys--" with a deep sigh, Robin was slowly losing her patience.

"It would remain a secret between us two."  Blue meeting Brown, Only the sound of waves was heard. "Unless.. if you are uncomfortable, we can both pretend that this moment never existed." With no response, Robin stands up, patting her knees to get rid of the sand.

"Its not.. It's just new to me, this is the only time we are doing this, do you understand?"  Nami demanded, frustrated at the little surprised expression Robin had, as if this was something bizarre.

"You..?" huffing out, Robin chuckles to herself. Still in disbelief by all this, a sudden curiosity kicks in to Robin's gut and before she can open her mouth to ask- Nami had already pressed her lips against hers.

A smile was plastered on Robins face. Perhaps she would ask her another time.

Full link

https://www.wattpad.com/story/324782963?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_story_details&wp_uname=minty0017&wp_originator=LnMsrCRu0TBx7%2BmMT3wTbEVG2bdK%2BGBrMU4INZ%2BB8fiIDxawhcT5nEhqyn0Ks0P1EcgGUItvxuGiryCxMPCNnLzNChbEAYWmfNqXs1DZxVNr7Bkpy%2BJQWYLZTByekxTx

[swtzrlnd]

SHE BECAME FLUSHED - and embarrassment burned her cheeks . She looked at the size of him , and Emmett was almost as big as a bear . He stood tall and he was bigger than some of the football players even . Of course he didn't just blend into the crowd , and this seemed to make it worse . 

Bella scrunched her nose , ❝ Voyerism isn't my cup of tea , ❞ she laughed before quickly following up , ❝ nor is exhibitionism . ❞ She had to clarify with him , or she would see him running with the joke for the rest of time . She liked it though . She imagined it was like having a sibling . While he looked like the most threatening in the bunch , to her , he was one of the softest and actually seemed to not be bothered by her in their lives .

❝ Don't remind me. I'm sure it wasn't this , ❞ she motioned to her outfit . She looked odd in Phoenix , the dark hair , pale skin , and choice of more alternative clothing . Bella knew that even here she was considered strange . When she had visited Forks during the summer she still hadn't found her own style yet and now it was different than the usual student body . ❝ I think they were pretty disappointed , ❞ she rolls her eyes and put down the slice of pizza . ❝ or maybe they weren't , when there is someone other enough - it makes it easier to feel better about yourself . ❞ 

She rapped her fingers against the school table . ❝ And I think Jessica and Lauren were pretty happy you guys adopted me to sit at your table instead of theirs . ❞ She didn't want it to hurt , the way he had because those girls weren't her crowd . The glaring and snide remarks didn't make them friends though , except Angela . She still hadn't come out and question why the Cullen's would choose to give her the time of day and not them . 

@swtzrlnd {Emmett for Bella, continued from X.}

Emmett genuinely enjoyed spending time with Bella. The little human was wildly entertaining to be around, and so it hadn’t taken much persuasion to get the massive vampire to agree to stay behind and keep an eye on her while the others went hunting. Just because Edward had ditched her for the time being, that didn’t mean the rest of the family had to. Especially given how accident-prone she was; someone had to be around to save her from herself before she broke something. Why shouldn’t it be him?

“Bella, look at the size of me,” the curly-haired teddy bear or a man laughed, abruptly drawn from his thoughts by her question. “They were gawking long before I turned. Becoming a vampire only made it worse,” he admitted with a shrug.

“Do I enjoy it? Not really. I know I’m pretty, but no one wants to feel like a zoo exhibit. Unless you’re into that sort of thing,” he joked with a wink. “No judgement here.”

Not for Bella, at least. She had been new and relatively confused. The rest of Forks’ student population had been around the Cullens for years and had no excuses for their poor behavior beyond jealousy. “They did the same thing to you before you arrived, you know? There was a lot of speculation about what Chief Swan’s daughter would be like.”