#I’ll probably finish it after work and then post it - after I fight tumblr to not remove my italics

[hcdragonwrites]

I am gonna be so tired in the morning for work but I had brain fire

And I am almost done with the next little fan thing I have inspired by a specific ask on a very specific blog 👀👀

Here a very small snippet.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [17]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: losing tempers, arguing, mentions of alcohol and a bit of binge drinking, angst, people getting drunk

Word Count: 15k (i am so so so sorry, i know y'all said you wanted long but this is probably insane. i just needed to end it in that specific place to get the theme i wanted to touch on finished😭 i think you'll like the content if you can bear through it lolol)

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant  for everyone.

#17: CLOSE YOUR EYES, NER KAR'TA

"to be in love with you is to know that even on the days you make me so mad i could scream, i still want to kiss the hell out of your face." ⏤Beau Taplin. "it's the way you wrinkle your nose when you're disappointed in me."

a/n: y'all would not believe the trouble tumblr gave me in posting this smh anyways sorry again this is stupid long (i did warn y'all im a mouthy motherfucker) but hopefully it can make up for the absolutely heartbreaking episode we all suffered thru today :)

.

“If I asked you to kick Karga’s ass, would you?”

“Without hesitation, ner kar’ta.”

You couldn’t help but snicker under your breath at his quick answer. Din was lying reclined in the cot beside you with Grogu napping on his chest. It was an entertaining contrast. The soft father rubbing his son’s back as the child snored while promising immediate violence at a single word from you. The awkwardness of yesterday morning seemed to have dispersed after your confession to him. Add to that the fact that Nima was sleeping in a medically induced coma on the cot you sat on the edge of, and you were on cloud nine. There was still a ways to go and you hated that your close friend⏤ your family⏤ had been injured in such a traumatizing way, but her arm would be saved.

The bacta tank had healed what it needed to. It fixed bone, muscle, and tissue nearly 80%. You didn’t want to risk letting the tank manage the injury to the full 100%. Repairing hand injuries was a tricky thing simply because the tendons and muscles in the hand were so complicated. You’d rather set her hand the old fashioned way⏤ make sure she didn’t lose any function. Nima would be devastated if her dexterity was compromised. Her job, her passion, relied on her hands.

“Anything else I can add to our to-do list today other than fighting the High Magistrate of Nevarro?” Din asked with a hum.

You grinned at him. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

Din nodded his head once. Your eyes glanced down at the hardware holding Nima’s hand motionless so it could heal properly. You had already adjusted them, applied a healing paste, then wrapped it, but you couldn't help but re-check your work over and over again. Your obsessive behavior came in handy when Karga had stepped in ten minutes or so ago to check in on Nima. Though his ‘checking in’ had turned into offering you a job once more. It seemed like every type of denial you had he had a counterpoint.

Your main one being that legally you weren’t allowed to practice medicine. You still had a license because the trial questioning whether or not you were ethically to blame for Soran’s death had ended in your favor. However, one stipulation⏤ which had come from a psychological evaluation the hospital made you go through after you were attacked⏤ was that until Kurt’s trial was over you shouldn’t be in the position of making medical decisions. It had been something you were more than happy to abide by as you ran from your life.

Karga’s cheeky reply had been that he was the High Magistrate and as such he could allow you to do anything you wanted to do. Especially if that thing you wanted to do was be his city’s physician. 

A thought formed in your mind and you huffed out a sigh. You could see Din tilt his head toward you in question. You faced him, “Would I be crazy for considering taking Karga up on his offer?”

“I wouldn’t say crazy.” Din replied. “But why? I don’t want you to feel obligated because Karga won’t leave you alone.”

“It’s not that.” You said. The thought grew in your mind, a chaotic frenzy that wouldn’t leave you alone. “If I hadn’t been here, Nima would’ve lost her arm. She might have even died. I stopped that.” Din remained silent and let you think aloud. “I can keep making that difference. I have to. If I don’t then… If something terrible happens then isn’t that my fault?”

Din sat up, holding Grogu to his chest so the boy didn’t fall, “No. No, it’s not. Thinking like that, taking on that guilt, isn’t healthy.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed so he was sitting up and facing you. “Don’t make a decision based on guilt, ner kar’ta.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled.

He stayed silent for a beat before reaching a hand out to you. You stood and took the singular step that would get you close enough to settle your hand in his. Din pulled you forward so you stood between his legs. The cot was on a lower setting which left you staring down at Din while he was forced to tilt his head to stare up at you. 

“Take guilt out of it. Pretend like you’re one of many that Karga is trying to hire for this job.” Din said. You lifted the hand Din wasn’t holding so you could scratch Grogu’s head. His mid-afternoon nap would be over soon and he’d be awake and bouncing off the walls with energy. “Would getting this job make you happy?”

You pondered over the question. There was a thrill in medicine. One you quite enjoyed when you weren’t forced to care for the people who meant the most in the world to you. Plus, thinking long term, you couldn’t be Grogu’s nanny forever. It wasn’t feasible. Not that you wanted out of their lives. You were so entangled in the web of their lives that that was hardly an option anymore. But, if you wanted a real relationship with Din one day, you couldn’t be his employee. You’d have to find a different way to make credits and support yourself. 

“I think so.” You nodded.

“As long as you're happy, then I think you should do it.” Din replied, but the sigh he released didn’t match the approval of his words. “I just don’t want you to make yourself sick with stress.”

“Worrywart.” You teased. Din chuckled and the rumbling in his chest must have roused Grogu. The boy began to rub his face against the metal he was lying on sleepily. You ran a finger alongside his ear. “Hi, baby boy. Was buir too loud? Did he wake you up?”

Grogu mumbled, then turned with outstretched arms. Din lifted him as you reached out. When you pulled the small child to your chest he leaned his head against your shoulder but you knew he wasn’t sleep based on the way he let his small fingers rub against your shoulder back and forth⏤ just like you and Din would do to him. Grogu was mumbling soft words you didn’t recognize.

“Mhmm, tell mama all about it.” You hummed.

Din’s hands had rested on your hips when he didn’t have Grogu to hold. His thumbs tracing circles over your shirt right above your belt. He nodded, “Do you want children of your own one day?”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his sudden question. It was the last direction you expected this conversation to go. Your jaw popped open slightly. “Uh, wh⏤what?”

“Just curious.” Din shrugged nonchalantly.

To be honest, you had never given it any thought. That was a future decision for future you to make. While in training, you told yourself it wouldn’t be something you needed to even think about until after training was over. Then when you were working in the hospital, you told yourself you needed to get settled in your job first. Finally, your life spiraled apart and during the last year that was hardly something that was on your mind. It was funny that you went full circle and all of that led you to standing in Nevarro’s clinic thinking about a future with children of your own. 

Taking care of Grogu was an experience that had given you more factors and variables to consider, but still you weren’t sure what to say. You shook your head and spoke the truth. “To be honest, I haven’t thought much about it.”

“You’re so good with Grogu, is all.” Din replied.

“What about you?” You paused. “Er, that’s not what I⏤ Obviously you already have a child. You have Grogu.” Din chuckled at your babbling. “I meant, would you want… more?”

Din tilted his head and a very casual nod. “I think so. I like the idea of a big family.”

“Do you have siblings?” You asked suddenly. “I’m realizing just now that I don’t know a lot about your life before Nevarro⏤ other than Grogu and the bounty hunting.”

“No siblings.” Din shook his head. “Not by blood at least. After I was brought in by the Mandalorians, as a foundling, I grew up with a few other kids I considered to be siblings on Concordia.”

“Wait, you were a foundling? Like Grogu?”

“Yes.” Din nodded. “I was born on Aq Ventina, but when I was young… My town was destroyed in a Separatist attack. Battle droids destroyed everything. They… I lost my parents. I would’ve been killed myself if a Mandalorian hadn’t saved me.”

You stepped around him so you could sit down on the cot beside Din. He followed your movements with his t-shape visor. You lifted the hand not holding Grogu to settle on his knee. “Din, I am so sorry. I had no idea, I⏤ I wouldn’t have asked⏤ I shouldn’t have asked⏤”

“It’s alright, ner kar’ta.” Din chuckled and set his hand on top of yours. “I knew you didn’t know, but I wanted you to know. Besides, I started this line of questioning.” He squeezed his fingers around your own. “I know you said you were from Naboo. Can you tell me more? Do you still have family there?”

You fell into a casual conversation with him telling him about the family you still had there. Sharing a few memories that couldn't help but slip out when they came to mind. You felt bad that you were talking about happy memories when Din had just admitted to a tragedy, but he continued to ask question after question leading you into them. Which led to him sharing a few memories of his own from both worlds that he walked. Din lingered on a story about his parents⏤ a happy one he held close to his heart based on the soft tone he spoke in.

“How much do you remember of them?” You asked.

“Enough to know they were good parents.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to spend more time with them.” You replied softly.

In response, Din lifted the hand on top of yours to bury it in the hair at the nape of your neck. He leaned you toward him and set his forehead against yours. The two of you only remained that way for a moment before Grogu sat up and rested one hand on your cheek and the other on his father’s.

“Skraan.” He blurted. Din and you broke apart, laughing, but Grogu was solely serious as he repeated himself. “Skraan, skraan, skraan.”

Din knew what he had to do. The part he was struggling with was the how. Oddly, in his mind, the first step was going to be the hardest bit. Steps two through whatever included taking the N1 out to Mandalore, find the living waters, bathe in said living waters, bring back proof to the Armorer, be redeemed in the eyes of his Covert, return to you as a full fledged Mandalorian rather than Apostate, and request to court you properly. Simple. Easy to remember. Din didn’t even need to write it down. However, step one involved telling you that he was leaving Nevarro and that was going to be tough.

At first he thought he’d just bring you with him, but then you told him you wanted to try being Nevarro’s physician. Din couldn’t pull you away from your home right as you had grown comfortable enough with your past to retry medicine. So, that was out. Then, when he had worked up the courage to say good-bye, Cara quit. That one had caught Din off guard. It happened days after Nima’s accident. Cara claimed she got an offer to be part of special forces with the New Republic⏤ an offer she couldn’t turn down. She even took the time to remind him that this was never a permanent thing anyways. 

However, Cara left in the dead of night without even taking the time to wait until Nima woke up. Din didn’t believe that was a coincidence. He was more than familiar with the concept of running from emotions. When Nima finally did wake up, the look of heartbreak on her features when he had to answer her question of where Cara was had been tough to handle. Din reminded himself that his plan was not the same as Cara’s. He was not leaving you to stay away. Din was not running from you. If anything he was running to you. He just wanted to be the very best version of himself before propositioning you, and Din wanted to do this right.

Before he left, he was going to explain this to you⏤ in great detail. And, if you truly meant what you said about allowing him to uphold his Creed, you’d understand. Din repeated that to himself over and over again like a mantra.

Regardless of how that played out, Din was stuck. It was one thing when he was leaving Nevarro short one marshal temporarily. Now the city would be missing him and Cara, and in good conscious he couldn’t let that be.

Mayfeld, hands laced behind his head as his feet were kicked up on his desk, called out. “Come on, Mando. What? You don’t trust me to hold down the fort while you’re gone?”

“Exactly.”

“Uh, ow.” Mayfeld complained. “You could’ve at least pretended to think about it before answering so fast.”

Din chuckled under his breath. Honestly, his relationship with Mayfeld had come a long way. How he felt now was a stark difference in comparison to how badly Din wanted to shoot him in the face when they first met. After what happened on Morak, after revealing his face in front of Mayfeld, Din truly respected the man⏤ trusted him. The truth is he would never forgive himself to leave Mayfeld here to deal with all the responsibilities alone. That wasn’t fair to his friend. All those facts didn’t deter Din from mocking and mildly bullying the man though. That was much too fun to give up.

“I have a friend flying in today to baby-sit you.”

“Nice. Got me a nanny too?” Mayfeld replied. “Hope she’s as pretty as yours.”

Din knew the man was only trying to rile him up, and he technically had picked the exact topic that could do it. But, Din didn’t take the bait. He shrugged. “He’s not really my type, but I’ll let you make the call on that.”

“Alright. So I’ll be the Marshal, and he’ll be my Deputy?”

“No. He’ll be Marshal, and you’ll still be Deputy.”

Mayfeld dropped his feet off the desk, hands falling to his side, and his jaw popped open in shock. “Hold on! The new guy gets to be Marshal before I do?? You’re just gonna promote him over me? Immediately.”

“Exactly.”

The man scoffed in response and crossed his arms like a petulant child. It reminded Din of the way Grogu would pout when you told him you couldn’t snack on cookies or cakes right before dinner time or when Din would wrestle a full sized critter out of his son’s mouth before Grogu could swallow it whole. Mayfeld shoved up from his seat to cross the room and pour himself a cup of caf. Din stayed where he was⏤ leaning against Cara’s old desk.

“You tell your girl that you’re leaving yet? Or is that still a secret?”

“I’m going to tell her.” Din said firmly.

Mayfeld slurped out of his mug, purposely trying to annoy him, “You said that four days ago, then three days ago, then two⏤”

“Keep talking and I’ll demote you from Deputy.”

“Is there even a level below deputy??”

“I can make one.” Din replied dryly. A wide grin crossed Mayfeld’s face and Din shook his head with a grumble. “Today. I’ll tell her today.” Mayfeld just stared at him from above the rim of his mug. Din pushed off the desk. “I’m going to do it.”

Mayfeld shrugged in response and Din resisted the urge to throw something at the man. He huffed and turned to leave. Mayfeld called out behind him, a teasing comment, and Din threw him a crude hand gesture over his shoulder causing the man to burst out in laughter. 

It barely took him any time to get from the station to the clinic. When he stepped through the front doors he was greeted by Aayla and one other worker he wasn’t familiar with. The Twi’lek waved him in and hit a button on the desk to unlock the backroom doors. It was the sound of your voice that greeted him first.

“⏤and if you pull those staples out, you’ll be dealing with me.” You stood at the end of a bed with your hands on your hips and your face drawn in concentration. Aayla had found and wrestled you into a white coat when you started and Din would be lying if he said he didn’t like the look on you. Din especially liked watching you take control of a room. You could command a scene with voice and stare alone, and Din really, really liked watching you do it.

“Baby girl,” A vaguely familiar voice chimed and Din frowned at the nickname, “Dealing with you would be my absolute pleasure.”

Din stepped further into the room to see that a worker from the hanger, a Trandoshan man he couldn’t recall the name of, was sitting on a cot with a long cut from wrist to elbow. A line of staples was holding it closed. Din crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Yeah? How about dealing with me?”

The Trandoshan looked to him at the same time you did, and he found it comical how different the reactions were. Your face split into a bright, gorgeous smile while the hangar worker stiffened up and averted his eyes.

“Well, hi there, Marshal.” You cooed and stuck your hands into the pockets of your white coat.

“Do we have a problem?” Din asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

You turned to look at your patient and raised an eyebrow in question. The Trandoshan glanced at him before looking back to you and shaking his head rapidly. You nodded and reached out to set a hand on Din’s forearm. “I think we’re okay here.”

“Can⏤ Can I⏤?” The worker pointed to the door.

“Yupp. Keep it dry. Come back in a week, and I’ll see if you’re healed enough to take the staples out.”

The Trandoshan jumped up but paused when he realized he was going to have to pass Din in order to get out. Even though Din was technically blocking the way, he kept his position so the man was forced to squeeze around him. When the man was finally out, your laugh filled the air and Din sighed in admiration. You shrugged, smile still in place, “That was kind of fun.”

“How’re you doing?” Din asked.

“I’m okay.” You nodded and then scrunched your nose once. “It’s so weird. I’m still not used to this, but at the same time I am?” You motioned around yourself. “It’s familiar, but it’s not. Am I crazy?”

Din shook his head, “Of course not.”

“Hmm,” You took a step closer to him so you had to lift your face to meet his visor, “I think you’re biased.”

He grinned under his helmet then shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So, what can I do for you, Marshal?”

“Have you had lunch yet?” He asked, and you shook your head in response. “Can I walk with you to get some? You aren’t busy are you?”

You shrugged out of your white coat and tossed it onto a cot. “That’s the beauty of working for a man who is super desperate to keep you around. I can do what I want.” Din chuckled and followed you out of the room. As you passed the front desk, you called out, “Aayla, I’m going. Just call me if any real emergencies come in. Okay?”

“You got it, doc!”

As you both stepped out, Din offered you his arm and you slipped yours through it. He nodded back toward the clinic. “Who is the new girl?”

“Miriam.” You answered. “Aayla is training her to work the front desk so I can train Aayla. She’ll be able to help me with little stuff. I think she’s got a lot of potential.” Din nodded toward a stand merchant who greeted him first. “We’ll be able to see more if I have an assistant, but we still can’t do any routine kind of work. Karga still needs to get another physician to work that side of things.”

Din hummed. “I hear he’s working on it, but I’ll… encourage him to work faster.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” You shook your head. “I can be plenty annoying on my own. You should’ve seen how much I bothered Admin back in Coruscant when I wanted them to buy the emergency department a whole set of ultrasounds.”

Din could imagine the scene and he wished he could’ve seen it. He’d have to make sure he had a front row seat for when you began to hound Karga for this. Without even discussing it, it seemed you both had the same sandwich place in mind⏤ the one that sold the cookies Grogu liked. Din didn’t bother ordering for himself. He wasn’t overly hungry. He mostly just wanted to spend time with you and make sure you took a break to eat. Din watched as you greeted the owners by name and after ordering your food you ordered a pack of cookies for Grogu as well. He could barely even pay attention to the conversation at hand because he was so busy watching you.

Even when the owners offered you the meal for free as a thank you for taking the job in town, you insisted on paying the full price. As you walked out, you frowned at him. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“I’m fine, ner kar’ta.” He replied. Din planned finding a bench where you could sit and eat⏤ you had commented about how much you loved the current weather this morning⏤ but the sound of his communicator made him groan.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

Din lifted his vambrace to see he was being hailed to the hanger. “Oh. I have a, uh, friend visiting today. He’s here early.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I have to go meet him.”

Din had begun to pull his arm away, but you kept your grip around it and briefly bit down on your lower lip drawing all his attention to the shape of the lips he loved so much⏤ the lips that haunted his every dream. You pleaded, “Can I please come with you?”

“You want to?” Din was surprised.

“Yeah!” You bounced in place. “I’d love to meet your friend. I mean, if that’s okay?”

“Always. You should start eating while we walk.” Din nodded.

You snickered. “Okay. Bossy.”

Din’s eyes snapped to you, and he chuckled. The two of you changed direction toward the hanger. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t going to meet Cobb Vanth eventually.

The week had gone shockingly well. Better than you could’ve hoped, but then again your expectations were incredibly low. Working in the emergency clinic was actually enjoyable. Karga had tried to rope you into doing everything, but you put a hard stop on that for obvious reasons. Nevarro was still relatively small so when it came to emergencies⏤ there really were not many emergencies. Only a patch up job here and there like with the Trandoshan this morning. Again the bar was low considering you started this job with Nima nearly losing her arm.

Nima had been doing very well physically, but, as much as she tried to hide it, emotionally she had taken a toll. You weren’t sure why Cara left so abruptly. Din and you had talked about it in depth one night after dinner and he seemed to think it was because she had cared too much for Nima too fast. The only opinion you had on the matter was that Cara had certainly gotten on your bad side. You were loyal to your oldest friend and it irked you beyond belief that the once deputy of Nevarro had left when Nima needed her most.

“Where’s your friend from?” You asked as Din and you neared the landing pad.

“Tatooine.”

“Ah, my neck of the woods.”

Din chuckled. “Were you even there long enough to call it your neck of the woods?”

“I lived in Mos Espa for at least half a year. In Tatooine years, that feels like a decade.” You replied and the laugh that left him made your cheeks warm. 

He glanced over at you, your arm still looped through his, “What made you choose Tatooine, anyways?”

“It’s kind of a depressing answer. Definitely a mood killer.” You winced. Din’s feet came to an abrupt stop and he turned so he was facing you entirely. You should’ve guessed he’d have that kind of reaction. You shook your head. “I took care of a patient who said Mos Espa was where lowlifes and runaways escaped to when they had no other world to call home. So…” You shrugged. “I went to Mos Espa.”

“Ner kar’ta⏤”

“I don’t feel that way now. A lot has changed, and I’m not the person who initially fled to Tatooine,” You said quickly, “But you asked why I went, so I said.” With your next words, you kept your voice low so only he could hear you. “I promise I’m okay, Din.”

Din gave you a curt nod. With an amused shake of your head, you slipped your arm through his once more and tugged him toward the landing pad. The Mandalorian warrior let you drag him along, and you could’ve swore he was dragging his feet on purpose to make it more difficult for you. The chuckle that left his helmet confirmed this for you. 

“How long is your friend staying for?” You asked, and Din stayed quiet. “And is his visit a social call? I imagine he’s heartbroken being away from the sands of Tatooine.”

Din’s feet came to a stop once more, but this time it came as a surprise. You paused with him and gave him a curious look. He tilted his head. “About that, I wanted to talk to you about⏤”

“Mando!”

You and Din both turned at the voice. Walking in your direction was a very familiar face. Cobb Vanth? The marshal of Mos Pelgo was a far way from home, but he looked no different than the day you last saw him. His signature red scarf around his neck acting as a homing beacon for your eyes. Vanth’s eyes were initially focused on Din, but then they dragged over to you and he shook his head in surprise.

“Little lady!? Is that you??” Vanth grinned. 

Din and you both snapped to look at one another again rather than the new arrival. At the same time, the same words left your lips. “You know Cobb Vanth!?”

Vanth spread his arms out as he continued to approach, a large duffel bag hanging from his back, “Well, ain’t this a surprise!”

The shock wore off and it finally occurred to you that Cobb Vanth was here. Right here, right in front of you. You let out a laugh and rushed to meet him halfway. He greeted you by wrapping his arms around you in a tight grin⏤ a laugh leaving him as well. What felt like another lifetime ago, you had met Cobb Vanth on your arrival to Tatooine. Though your plan had been to settle in Mos Espa you had accidentally ended up in Mos Eisley. In an attempt to get from one place to the other you got lost in the desert briefly after the land speeder you rented ran out of fuel halfway. It had been your fault for trusting the man you got the speeder from. Rather than dying you were saved by the man you were now hugging. Vanth had even been kind enough to get you to Mos Espa eventually.

You pulled away from Vanth. “It’s so good to see you! You look great.”

“Oh, I know, darling.” Vanth winked. “But still not holding a flame to you.” You chuckled and a hand settled on your shoulder. Din had walked over and you took a step back so you stood right beside him. Vanth motioned to the Mandalorian. “You never told me you knew Mando.”

“I didn’t back when I was with you, Vanth.” You glanced between the two men. “How do you guys know each other?”

Vanth readjusted the bag around his shoulders. “Now that, little lady, is quite the story.” He continued on talking about how Din came looking for a Mandalorian and found Vanth decked out in Mandalorian armor. He followed it by describing how Din ended up flying into a krayt dragon to kill it from inside out. A detail you did not love to hear. “We’ve been best buddies since. Right, pal?”

Din didn’t respond. You were still in awe at the coincidence of it all. You missed your Mandalorian by literal months. Din had swung through Mos Pelgo right before you had. What would’ve happened if you met him then rather than now? 

“Mando?” Vanth questioned. Waving his hand once in front of the helmet. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Din replied and you wondered where the tension in his voice had come from. You slipped your arm around his once more and he seemed to relax marginally. He cleared his throat before nodding. “How was your trip, Vanth?”

Vanth’s lips stretched back out into a charming grin. “Hey, I can’t complain. Gotta say Nevarro looks better than I thought it would. I’m excited to explore it.” He chuckled. “The weather ain’t too bad either. I was worried I’d miss that desert air.”

“Don’t worry. These lava plains are plenty hot enough.” You replied. “How long are you here for?”

“Suppose 'til Mando here gets back.”

It took a second for the words to register in your mind, but Din picked it up much faster based on the way his entire body tensed once more. Until he gets back. Gets back? You slowly pulled your arm away from so you could turn and look at him. Before your hand could fall away entirely, Din caught it with his own⏤ holding it against his arm. 

“Wait⏤”

“You’re going somewhere?” You furrowed your brow in confusion. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip. Din paused and somehow his hesitance irritated you. “Where?”

Din sighed. “Mandalore.”

Your eyes widened, “Manda⏤ The Mandalore that may or may not be poisoned still?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Okay.” You replied. “Alright.” You pulled your hand out from under Din’s hand and shot Vanth a quick, firm smile. “It was really good to see you, Vanth. Welcome to Nevarro! I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” Din took a step toward you, his nickname for you leaving his lips, but you took a step back. “I need to get back to work, but I’ll see you at home?”

You didn’t give him the chance to answer and turned to leave. If Din called out after you, you didn’t hear him. Your footsteps were rushed as you tried to wrap your head around the information you had just learned. Were you angry? Maybe. It wasn’t a clear cut anger though⏤ it was muddled. There were too many other emotions swirling in your head, but the main one that started to push to the front was disappointment. Every time you thought you understood where you stood with Din it seemed like something happened that made you question it all. Had he just planned on leaving the planet without telling you? Or maybe he wanted to wait until the last second and just wave to you as he took off, or hang a note on the fridge for you to find the morning of. Even if you weren’t in this weird back and forth romantic thing with him, as someone who literally lived in his home and helped care for his child you were incredibly involved in his life. If you were a team, then you needed to know the plan.

More irritation boiled up in your blood, and you found yourself changing direction from the clinic to a familiar house. Your fist was banging on Nima’s door before you fully even registered what it was you wanted to say. Nima opened the door, in her pajamas, and your eyes glanced at the metal brace surrounding her right arm out of habit. 

Nima deflated and whined, “Please, please, please, please tell me you’re here to clear me for work.”

“No. Two more weeks. I’m not changing my mind on that.” You replied and she groaned. “I’m here because apparently Marshal Mando is leaving the planet and hired a replacement marshal but didn’t think to tell me any of this.”

“Come on in. I have alcohol.”

“I told you! I told you⏤ didn’t I tell you??” Mayfeld cried then spun to look at Vanth who was leaning against the wall. “I kriffing told him. Days ago.”

“Please stop talking.” Din groaned as he hung his head back while slouching in the seat. Din thought that the worst part of learning you and Vanth already knew one another would be the tight hug you literally ran to give him. Vanth had pulled you up off your toes in the hug, and the primal side of him yearned for a fight. His hand literally twitched toward his blaster⏤ his kriffing blaster. As if he was going to shoot down his good friend Cobb Vanth who left his town to do him a favor. 

Din had a problem. He was a problem. Growing up the way he had, with the losses he faced, he tended to be possessive of what he considered his own. Din liked to think over the years he had gotten good at reigning that behavior in. He didn’t shoot Vanth, after all. Still, that side of him didn’t hesitate in rearing it’s ugly head in moments like when he watched Cobb Vanth hold you for what he considered to be a second too long. It wasn’t until your arm slipped through his, a soft smile on your face, that he felt the logical side of him slip back into control.

Then, of course, it all went downhill when Vanth accidentally admitted the thing he had yet to tell you. Watching that smile fall off your features, feeling you try to slowly pull away, felt like he had taken blunt force trauma to the chest. It physically hurt and left a raw, aching wound and it only got worse as he watched you walk away. Din put the pain pretty high on the list of ones he experienced, and this was coming from someone who had a job that led him to be stabbed repeatedly. 

“I am sorry about that, Mando.” Vanth spoke up.

“It’s not your fault.” Din straightened his posture and shook his head. “I should’ve told her ages ago. That’s on me.” Vanth had apologized to him multiple times during the walk from the tarmac to the station. He’d do so between asking questions about the town that Din was supposed to be giving him a better tour on. Din rested his elbows on knees. It dawned on him that there was a question he hadn’t asked in his distress. “How do you know her?”

Vanth crossed his arms. “It was a couple months after you left, actually. She got lost between Mos Eisley and Mos Espa.” Din’s eyes widened at the thought of you getting lost in that Maker forsaken desert. Vanth chuckled. “Her land speeder ran out of fuel. It was by pure chance I ran into her. She stayed in Mos Pelgo for a few days then I took her the rest of the way to Mos Espa. We stayed in touch though⏤ here and there.”

Briefly, Din wondered what his life would’ve looked like if the two of you had been in Mos Pelgo at the same time. It was a curious thought but he knew both of you had been different people at that time. Even if it, in the great scheme of things, wasn’t that long ago. Less than a year. Then again, as quickly as you had wormed your way in his heart he couldn’t imagine meeting you months ago would’ve been that different. Din sighed and stood, he grabbed a holopad off the desk remembering that despite his dilemma in breaking your heart today he still had work to do. 

“Yeah.” Vanth hummed. “Little lady and I didn’t see each other often, but she’d visit me or I’d visit her for the occasional hook up.”

Din’s head snapped to glare at Vanth and, in an attempt to ensure his hands were free, he slammed the holopad back down onto the desk⏤ ignoring the tell tale sound of cracking glass. Vanth’s lips curled up into a mischievous grin and Din was half tempted to drag him back to the tarmac and ship his ass to Tatooine. Mayfeld burst into laughter and Din just shook his head.

“Sorry, brother.” Vanth chuckled. “I saw how up in arms you got out on the tarmac. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Hilarious.” Din replied. 

Eventually, Mayfeld and Vanth wandered out so the newest temporary marshal could get acquainted with the town and meet Karga. It gave Din a couple of hours to work though he spent most of it internally spiraling over the moment your entire face fell. He hated that he had been the cause of that⏤ just because he had been too scared to fess up. His communicator began to go off and Din answered it.

“Hi, Marshal?” A woman’s voice said. Din confirmed who it was. “This is Ms. Wynn, I’m in charge of Grogu’s class. Everything's still fine, but class ended about twenty minutes ago and I haven’t seen you or Soran. Is everything alright?”

Din shoved up from his desk’s chair. “I’ll be right there.”

On his way out the door, he called Aayla at the clinic to see if you had just gotten caught up with a patient, but the woman claimed she hadn’t seen you since he took you out for lunch. The clinic had been quiet otherwise. Din’s stomach churned uncomfortably as he hurried to pick up his son. Were you alright? Or were you so upset that you refused to even care for Grogu? Din knew the moment that thought crossed his mind that he was wrong. Regardless of how upset you were with him, you’d never take it out on the little boy. Din just hoped you were okay.

You narrowed your eyes at Nima as she downed the last of her beer, “Is this all you’ve been doing all day? Drinking?”

“Well, I can’t work, so…” Nima shrugged. When she offered you a drink you had turned it down, technically still on shift as the physician, but she hadn’t stopped from drinking herself. You had come here to rant about Din, but as it turned out you both had plenty to complain about. For hours, you and her had sat on the back porch of her house . The last thirty minutes or so you were trying to pry information out of Nima about how she felt about the Cara situation, but the mechanic would simply shrug it away. You knew she was hurting more than she claimed though. “Do the skies look gross to you?”

“What?” You blurted and slumped down in your seat.

“The sky. It looks…icky.”

You peered up best you could, and in her defense icky was probably the best word. The day had started clear, but the sky now had a greenish tinge to it. It reminded you of the beginnings of a storm, but you couldn’t see any clouds. You leaned out further to look and by doing so it gave you a clear view of Nima’s kitchen through a side window where you saw a clock resting against her wall. 3:37. Dank farrik. You jumped up.

“Karking⏤ Grogu!” You panicked. Shit, shit, shit. “Stop drinking, Nima.”

She mumbled a confirmation that you didn’t firmly believe then started sprinting back to the center of town. You had never, ever been late to pick up Grogu before. Guilt gnawed at you imagining Grogu looking for you in a crowd of parents and not being able to find you. Maker, how could you lose track of time like that? You got to the school in record time to find that all the kids were gone. Ms. Wynn was cleaning up around a room and she said Din had come and picked him up about ten minutes ago. 

As much as you wanted to avoid Din for a little while longer, you needed to see Grogu so you could apologize to him. On your way in you passed Mayfeld and Vanth who were standing in the lobby. They both raised their hands to greet you and you blew past them without preamble. You were a woman on a mission. 

“Grogu?” You called out, searching the room. Faintly, you could hear Grogu calling back to you and he waddled into the room a second later. You breathed a sigh of relief and knelt down to scoop him up into a hug. “I’m so sorry, baby. I am so, so sorry.”

“No sorry.” Grogu hummed giving your cheek a small pat making you chuckle.

The sound of a throat clearing had you glancing up to see Din leaning against the doorway that would lead back to his office. You were in an odd position because you were still upset at him from leaving you in the dark, but you were also ashamed and embarrassed at missing Grogu’s pick up time.

“Hi.” You mumbled awkwardly.

“I’m sorry.” Din blurted. Your eyes narrowed. Was he not going to address the ‘you abandoned Grogu’ thing first? “I should’ve told you sooner that Grogu and I are going to Mandalore.”

You slowly stood up with the cooing child in your arms. “You and… You’re taking Grogu?? To Mandalore??” If he heard the rising anger in your voice, he didn’t show it. “The planet that, again, we don’t know is even habitable?”

“Of course. Where I go, he goes.” Din shrugged nonchalantly. You blinked once, and Din finally seemed to catch onto at least one of the thoughts you had. “I want you to go, but I can’t pull you away from Nevarro. Not when you just started working in the clinic, and if I did choose to leave Grogu here that would just be added stress for you.”

Right. Because worrying about Din and Grogu on some wasteland of a planet wasn’t a stress factor. You locked your jaw and let out a slow breath through your nose. The boy in your arms seemed to latch onto the tension faster than his father did based on the worried looks he was bouncing between the two of you. Finally, you found your voice, “I forgot Grogu at school. I lost track of time. I⏤”

“It was an accident, I know. I’m not mad.” Din said calmly. 

He wasn’t mad. Din wasn’t mad, and somehow that made you even angrier. A part of you wondered if he was purposely not showing any anger in an attempt to keep you from being angry. One mistake for another mistake. Tit for tat. Maybe he was trying to make up for the fact that he knew he upset you, but you hated the calm demeanor he still seemed to carry. It occurred to you then, that you wanted him to be angry. You wanted to argue. The Mandalorian in front of you was the picture perfect example of composure and it pissed you off.

“You’re not angry.” You enunciated each word.

“Of course not, ner kar’ta.” Din shook his head. He drifted closer. “We should talk more about this trip⏤”

“Why?” You shrugged and pasted a large smile on your face. If he wanted to be composed then you’d be composed too. “I should check on the clinic one last time before heading home. I’ll take Grogu with me. Get as much time with him as I can before you boys go on your little adventure.”

Din shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a nervous tic you usually only saw at home, “Yeah. I might be late getting back. It looks like there might be a volcanic ash storm rolling in soon. Nevarro hasn’t seen one since before the guild left here.”

“No problem.” You said. “I’ll see you at home.”

Din began to take a step toward you, but you turned on your heel to leave with Grogu. You knew you were being petty, but right now you didn’t really care. If the two of you were playing mistake for mistake then this seemed fair too. You were petty to him and he didn’t tell you that he planned to leave you alone on this planet without him or Grogu. Tit for tat.

Din watched you leave with the sinking feeling that the interaction between the two of you had not gone well. Mayfeld stepped in with an incredulous look while Din continued to just stand with his arms crossed over his chest.

Mayfeld scoffed and motioned behind him, “How in the hell did you make it worse?”

Din mumbled a string of curses in every language he was familiar with and pushed past Mayfeld to leave. The man fell into step beside him. As much as he wanted to chase after you, he needed to help get the city prepped for the oncoming storm. Mayfeld, never able to take a hint, shook his head, “I mean, geez Mando. How is it you can string up a quarry in seconds, but can’t figure out how to apologize to a woman?”

“Where is Vanth?” Din asked, ignoring Mayfeld’s own line of questioning.

“Walking your girl to the clinic then home.”

Din locked his jaw. That was good to hear. He wanted to be the one to walk you and his son back to the safety of your shared home, but considering the circumstance he was just glad you weren’t alone. Din ordered Mayfeld to take the eastern side of the city and warn all citizens to bring in or tie down their outdoor belongings while he took the west. 

He didn’t get it. Had you wanted him to be angry at you? Din was a little peeved, it’d be a lie to say that he wasn’t. He had to leave work to pick up Grogu despite you taking on that responsibility this morning. Since starting at the clinic, you and him had taken turns, but Din liked to know beforehand so he wasn’t just up and leaving the station. If an emergency happened, where you were needed with a patient, that was more than understandable, but that hadn’t been the case. You had just lost track of time. A very human mistake to make, and honestly it was your first when it came to Grogu. So, yes, Din was a little peeved, but he wasn’t angry.

Din pushed it out of mind. You knew the truth, and he could better explain himself tonight when he got home. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. 

According to Karga, the volcanic ash storms were quick but deadly. The closest volcano would spew out a hot and devastating breath of ash. It’d roll over the city, blanketing everything in darkness, but it usually was blown away and gone in a matter of hours. Din had heard plenty about them, but they had never occurred while he was planet side. As long as there was proper prep to begin with then it should be a smooth transition. Karga, ever the planner, had built the city buildings with proper metal shields to roll down over windows and doors in the case of a storm. Everybody would stay indoors for a half a day, and then they’d spend the rest cleaning up.

Din wondered if his helmet was equipped to withstand the ash. It should be. The beskar and his flight suit would keep the hot ash from burning his skin, and if his helmet worked correctly then the filter should keep out most of the dangerous ash. He only wondered in case he needed to venture out to save a citizen or two. They were making the rounds to tell everyone that staying indoors was an order, but Din knew with his luck one or two people would ignore the warning.

It took hours to ensure the entire city was ready to be locked down and make sure that Vanth found his place and that it worked for the man. Din had simply housed him in Cara’s old place. It was still furnished and it wasn’t like Vanth needed anything permanent. The storm was still being estimated at being 24 or 36 hours out. It would give Din, Mayfeld, and Vanth time in the morning and afternoon to run through the city once more for final checks.

“Hey,” Din called out as he stepped into the house with a sigh. When he rounded the corner he noted that you were in the kitchen alone and cleaning up. He glanced around, “Grogu?”

“Bathed and in bed.” You replied without missing a beat. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, sorry, getting the city prepped took longer than I thought it would.” Din groaned. “How was⏤”

“I have leftover dinner for you.” You interrupted him and motioned to the stove. “But I figure you’ll want to clean up first.”

Din nodded in relief, “Thank you.” You gave him a tight nod, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes painted your lips, and he paused before heading back to the shower. “Hey, you’re not going to bed are you? I wanted to talk.”

“I’m not going to bed.” You shook your head.

“Good.” Din turned and hurried off. From the moment Vanth let slip that he was leaving, Din had been craving to sit down next to you and explain everything. He wanted to take your hand in his and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, they wouldn't be gone long, and it killed him to leave you behind. Din wanted to explain that he was leaving to find redemption and revenge. Though, he wasn’t quite sure how you’d handle that information.

As Din washed the day off of him, he wondered how you’d feel about that? If he told you the absolute truth that he planned to find redemption in part so he could court you. If he told you that he planned on tracking down Daelar to rip the man’s throat out. He wasn’t positive how you’d handle either fact, but he was positive that he needed to tell you. Din was human, he made mistakes, but he made it a mission in life to not make the same mistake twice.

After getting dressed, Din carried all his armor, sans his helmet, into the room to set aside. He paused long enough to check in on Grogu and tuck the blanket thrown haphazardly around the hammock around the boy’s small body. “Nuhoy morut'yc, adi’ka.” Din readjusted the stuffed frog in Grogu’s hammock with a smile and left the room as quietly as possible. A nervous energy settled along his skin and he rolled his shoulders once, “Ner kar’ta?”

The kitchen was empty and Din titled his head in confusion at the finding. His eyes landed on a plate of food waiting for him on the island counter and drifted closer. Sitting beside the plate was a small note with the most passive aggressive of all smiley faces he had seen drawn.

‘Went out with Nima. Don’t wait up’.

Din aggressively tore his helmet off and the only thing that kept him from slamming it onto the counter was the knowledge that the sound would wake up Grogu. His nervous energy melted into irritation. Sure, he hadn’t clarified that he wanted to talk when he asked if you were going to bed, but Din knew his intentions had been clear. That’s why you had deliberately answered his question in such a specific manner. His hands clenched and unclenched as he took a slow and steadying breath. 

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t. Din repeated this under his breath in an attempt to convince himself of it.

It was funny. The last time you sat in this cantina with Nima, in these exact chairs, the two of you had also been talking about Din. The subject last time was how awkward it was to tiptoe around him in his own home. Mashal Daddy, is what Nima had called him last time.

“Marshal Dickhead.” Nima scoffed before taking the shot in front of her. She pushed your shot glass closer to you and you tossed it back as well. The liquid burned the entire way down and you grimaced. It had been ages since you drank to this degree⏤ you were a light weight now. “That’s what he is.”

You shook your head. “No, he isn’t.”

“Okay, I need you to work on your shit talk.” Nima pointed at you. “Defending the person you’re complaining about is kind of redundant.”

You tapped your glass and the bartender wandered back over to pour the both of you another shot which you took without hesitation. Nima tried to get them to pour another, but you shook your head and ordered two mixed drinks instead. At least those had something other than straight liquor in it. 

“I’m pissed at him, but I don’t wanna shit talk him.” You replied.

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “I want to fight.” Nima gave you a questionable look and you shook your head. “Not physically. Maker, I don’t have a death wish.” Picking to tussle with a Mandalorian could possibly be the stupidest choice in the galaxy. “But I want to argue with him.”

Nima narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I⏤ I⏤” Your words got caught in your throat and you tried to wash it down with a large swig of your drink, to no avail. It was dumb to want to argue, wasn’t it? Couples tried to avoid that. Not that the two of you were an official couple. You groaned and buried your face into your hands⏤ already feeling dizzy from the drinks. You wanted him to be upset with you, to feel comfortable enough around you to show that he was upset. Up until now, the two of you hadn’t had any real arguments. Sure, there were little tiffs here and there about nothing important, and it typically always ended with Din conceding the point with a shrug. Despite what most people seemed to think, you knew that towering wall of beskar had emotions. He had a lot of kriffing emotions, and you wanted to see all of them. Even the negative ones. 

“I think I get it. The ‘wanting to argue’ thing.” Nima said softly. You lifted your head to look at her and she gave you a small smile. The Twi’lek reached out to set her hand on your shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “You want to have hot, angry make-up sex.”

Despite the sullen thoughts weighing you down, her words made a loud laugh slip from your lips. Nima look affronted that you were laughing at her theory, but you just shook your head and let the laughter die down to chuckles.

“I was serious.”

“I know you were. That’s why it’s funny.” You replied and took another sip of your drink. “But, I think I want to have not angry sex with him before I go for the other stuff.”

Nima’s eyes widened, “Wait, you guys haven’t⏤” You shook your head. “What the kriff are you waiting for!?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted. It was a fair question. “I think we’re going slow.”

“But, why?” Nima replied. “It’s obvious the two of you wanna jump each other’s bones. Half the city thinks you’re already married to him.”

You furrowed your brow, “Yeah, why is that? I get that the evidence stacked against us is damning, but to just assume we’re married?”

“Oh, I’ve been telling everyone the two of you are married.” Nima replied.

“What? Why??”

“I don’t know.” Nima shrugged. “Seemed fun. Figure it’ll be true one day.”

You scoffed, “Well, it won’t be if he disappears on the cursed world of Mandalore.” 

The words fell out of your lips with more pain than you meant to convey. Nima’s face fell and you lifted your drink to knock back the rest of it. That was a possibility, wasn’t it? Din and Grogu leave you to never return. Then what? You live in the house you shared with them alone? Listening to the ghostly echoes of where they used to be?

“Shots.” Nima called out to the bartender. “We need more shots.”

The two of you were four more shots in when a familiar face wandered toward you. Vanth leaned against the bar on your other side with a smile that you could tell was concerned. “Hey there, ladies.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy!” Nima drunkenly lifted herself from her seat, nearly toppling over, and pointed at Vanth. “We aren’t interested. She’s married,” Nima pointed to you then pointed back to herself, “And I like pussy.”

Vanth’s eyes widened and you dragged her back down into her seat. “First, stop telling people I’m married. Second, stop announcing to the bar that you like pussy. And, third,” You motioned for Vanth to take a seat beside you which he did, “This is Cobb Vanth. He’s a friend from Tatooine and the replacement Marshal while Di⏤ Mando is gone.”

In your own tipsy stupor, you had nearly said Din’s name aloud. Luckily, Nima was too gone to notice and Vanth didn’t seem to care. He leaned over to over his hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Nima.” She replied curtly and held her hand out like a queen offering it to a peasant. You rolled your eyes, but Vanth just changed the position of his own hand to take hers with a small shake.

“Nima.” Vanth said. “Can I buy you two drinks?”

“I insist you do.” Nima nodded and pulled her hand away.

You chuckled with a shake of your head and tossed back the rest of the one in front of you so Vanth could get you a fresh one. Nima was babbling about something mechanical that you couldn’t follow along with and directing her words to anyone who glanced her way. 

“I’ve already apologized to Mando, but I feel like I owe you an apology too.” Vanth said. “I’m sorry about what happened on the tarmac.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t your fault for assuming Mando wasn’t keeping secrets.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a secret.” Vanth shrugged, catching the bartender’s eye and holding up three fingers. He turned back to you. “I think the poor guy was just scared.”

“Mandalorians don’t feel fear.” Nima blurted out from behind you, apparently a part of the conversation now.

You shook your head. “I don’t care if he was scared as long as he tells me that he is.”

“Fair request.” Vanth shrugged. The drinks were brought over and you took a small sip of yours. The tipsy buzz floating in your skull was slowly shifting to just plain drunk, and a sadness crept in alongside it. You suddenly wished you were at home curled in bed⏤ curled in his bed. Listening to the soft snores of both him and Grogu. “So,” Vanth’s voice snapped you out of Din’s dark and safe room and back into the noisy cantina, “Where does that leave the two of you?”

“She’s dropping his ass.” Nima barked.

“Nima⏤” You whirled on her.

“You don’t need him! He’s abandoning you!” Nima cried and you took in the way her lower lip quivered for just a moment. “We don’t need either of them! They can⏤ They can go explore the kriffing galaxy or join the New Republic’s special forces team or whatever it is they want to do! We don’t care. We’re better than that. We don’t need them.” She turned and shook her head before taking a large sip of her drink. “I’m better off without her.”

You reached out, wordlessly, and pulled her hand away from the glass so you could hold it. Nima tangled her fingers with yours and squeezed once⏤ hers eyes glistening with unshed tears. You knew she had taken Cara’s departure worse than she wanted to admit. Nima was right. She didn’t need Cara. Nima was strong and beautiful and smart and incredible. Cara had been a friend but she had also been a bump in the road. She left selfishly when Nima needed her most, but Nima was going to rise above it. However, she had been wrong about you.

You did need Din. That’s why the thought of him leaving Nevarro was so jarring and painful. Coming here had been a way to escape your past and hide out, but you had never expected to find someone who would grow to be so important. Honestly, it was a bit scary if you thought about it for too long, but the truth was that you needed Din in your life. Him and Grogu. Without them, you’d have a gaping hole in your heart and you weren’t sure there was anything else in the universe that could fill that. Din hadn’t fully explained his reasoning, you hadn’t given him the chance, but you knew he wasn’t leaving you. Nima had been blindsided by Cara and left with nothing. Maybe it would’ve taken him forever, but Din wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye and you knew⏤ deep, deep down⏤ that he’d fight tooth and nail to return to you. 

“I’m sorry to ruin your night, Vanth.” You said, “But I think we’re gonna call it quits.”

“Don’t be silly.” Vanth shook his head. He tossed back his drink before rising himself. “I’ll walk you ladies home.”

You gave him a thankful smile knowing you were in no state to navigate to Nima’s house in the dark, put her to rest, then find your way back home yourself. Vanth chose to help Nima walk considering you had at least a little better control over your legs. The three of you stumbled out of the cantina into the warm night air⏤ it was time to go home.

Din didn’t have the time to put all his armor on, it was nearing one in the morning when his communicator went off, so he had simply thrown on the upper half of his flight suit, gloves, and boots. It left him in one of the more ridiculous outfits he wore considering his sweatpants did not match any item he adorned, but he just needed to get the door.

When he swung it open, Vanth stood on his porch with you in his arms sleeping soundly. He nodded toward your figure, “She was wide awake when we dropped off her friend, and was doing decent on the way here, but by time I reached the end of you street she was dozing off on her feet.”

“Thank you.” Din mumbled. He was quick to step forward and take you into his arms⏤ not enjoying the way you were snuggled into Vanth. Though he did appreciate the man bringing you home. “I really do appreciate this.” You shifted so you could bury your head into the crook of his neck and Din sighed. “Was she… How was she when you found her at the cantina?”

Vanth didn’t answer at first. He stared at Din for what felt like a long moment before looking at you then back to him again. Vanth chuckled, “I know I’m new to town, brother, so take this with a grain of salt.” He shook his head. “But it’s obvious she cares about you as much as you care about her. A fight now and then is normal, but don’t let it go on for too long. You don’t get time wasted back.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Din mumbled. 

Vanth gave him a quick nod before turning on his heel and leaving. Din shut the front door with his foot and carried you through the quiet house until he reached your room. The thought that you spent the night drinking until you were too inebriated to get home yourself bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You were a grown woman who could do what you wanted, but you had gone to specifically avoid talking to him. He found that incredibly annoying. 

It was like you were purposefully trying to rile him into lashing out, and that’s the last thing Din wanted to do. Din had a temper, but back during his bounty hunting years that was easily handled. He’d get angry, he’d go hunt a quarry and burn that emotion right out of himself. Now, he was in a setting where he didn’t have an outlet and he worked hard to keep that temper under wraps. Din had lashed out at Karga a time or two since his arrival, but that was expected and Karga was no stranger to his anger. 

Din settled you on your bed and began to carefully take off your boots followed by your socks and pants. He kept his gaze off your lower half as his only goal was to make you more comfortable. He stood and pulled your covers up to tuck you in. Din paused for a moment before pulling his helmet off and tucking it under one arm. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. Maker, you were driving him up the wall. You had no idea the kind of fire you were playing with. It’s not like you were in danger, Din would tear his own heart out before hurting you, but he didn’t want to yell at you. 

“Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar.” Din sighed aloud. A reminder. He leaned forward to press his lips against your temple. Din would not lose his temper with you because he could not afford to lose you. He turned off your automatic alarm sitting on the night stand by the bed and wished you the same farewell he had to Grogu earlier in the night. “Nuhoy morut’yc, ner kar’ta.”

The headache you woke up with was nasty, and you swore in that moment to never drink again. Probably a fruitless promise to yourself, and not the first time you had claimed it, but right now you were miserable. You groaned and rubbed your face in your pillow before sitting up with a grunt. There was a weird amount of sunlight in your room and not just in ‘my poor hungover eyes are overly sensitive’ kind of way. You rubbed your face, glancing around, and it was then you realized the alarm sitting by your bed was off.

“Shit.” You breathed and jumped out of bed. The sheets tangled around your lower leg and you hit the floor with a curse. First you forgot to pick Grogu up from school and now you’d be late to taking him to school. Maker, you were so stupid. As reliving as it had been to drink and talk to Nima last night, it hadn’t been worth it for this. The speed in which you got dressed was startling and you burst into Din’s room to find it empty.

Your hungover brain realized much too late that this could’ve been bad if Din were in here with his helmet off. “Grogu??” You hurried out of the room and into the hall. When you stepped into the kitchen you were met with the smell of food and the sound of babbling. Grogu sat in his high chair eating with his father right beside him dressed and ready for work. “Grogu.”

“Ma!” Grogu greeted briefly before diving back into his food.

Din turned to stare at you and you rubbed your face in embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why my alarm wasn’t on.”

“I turned it off.” Din shrugged. “Vanth brought you home late. Figured you needed to sleep in.” Din rose from his seat and began to try and clean Grogu up from the mess he had made of breakfast. “You’re fine. I can take Grogu to school this morning.”

“What?” You gaped in disbelief. 

“What?” Din echoed. 

“You hired me to take care of Grogu while you worked and I am failing at that right now.” You spat.

Din scoffed. “Failing is a bit dramatic. You made a mistake. It happens.”

“I show up passed out from drinking on a work night, and your response was to tuck me in and turn off my alarm??” You said as your voice began to raise. “Seriously??”

“Wasn’t a work night.” Din replied calmly. “I wasn’t on schedule.”

You groaned in frustration, “That’s not the damn point, Din!”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is you’re supposed to be upset! You’re supposed to be angry!” You snapped. Grogu cooed nervously from his seat and you bit back as much of your anger as you could. “It’s a normal human response. Why can’t you just admit that you’re angry at me!?”

Din set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Why do you want me to be angry at you so badly?”

“Because I want you to be human around me!” You snapped.

Din stiffened, and as much as you hated the way you worded that, you thought maybe it would be the line that pushed him over the edge. Instead, he just gave you a tight shrug. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t being human around you.”

“Really?” You laughed in broken disbelief. “You’re not even going to react to that shitty thing I just said?” Din remained silent. “Whatever. I’m taking Grogu to school.”

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

“Actually, I do.” You replied sharply and scooped the boy up from the chair. Grogu reached up to set a hand on your face and you sighed⏤ momentarily finding peace. When your gaze lifted up to spot Din once more the peace fell away. “It’s my job. Remember? Might as well do what I was hired to do while Grogu is still in Nevarro.”

Din didn’t respond. He stood stock still. Enough so that a stranger could walk in and confuse him for a droid. On your way out, you scooped up Grogu’s bag by the door and hurried out. There was a sharp, acidic tang in the air that greeted you and you flinched at the smell. The sky was uglier than it had been yesterday, but you were already late so you pressed on. 

The entire rushed walk to school, you spent it apologizing to Grogu for yelling at his father in front of him. You shouldn’t have lost your temper in front of the child. As if he understood the situation entirely, Grogu babbled along with you and continued to give your face small pats of reassurance. Right outside of the school, Ms. Wynn stuck her head out to greet you.

“Hey, Wynn. I am so sorry about yesterday and for being late this⏤”

“Hurry, get in.” She grasped you by the wrist and tugged you inside. She shut the door tightly behind you and you glanced around the room to see all the children being kept busy by the other school workers. You gave Ms. Wynn a confused look and she sighed. “The storm is coming sooner than everyone thought. The watch people are estimating it to hit city center in the next twenty minutes or so. You can’t be outside.”

You shrugged, “I can get to clinic in fifteen.”

Grogu wiggled and whined in your arms so you set him down so he could run off to play with his friends. Ms. Wynn shook her head. “No. It’s not worth the risk. Volcanic ash storms are incredibly dangerous. The entire city is locking up right now.” You still thought you’d be able to make it, but before you could argue further your communicator began to beep. “I’ll let you take that. I need to start class.”

You nodded and watched her walk off before activating your communicator. “Hello⏤”

“Ner kar’ta?” Din’s voice crackled to life⏤ panic evident. “Where are you and Grogu??”

“At school. Wynn just locked us in for the storm.”

“Good.” You heard Din breathe out a breath of relief. “Just stay there until the storm passes. It should be over by this evening.” There was an awkward pause of silence before he cleared his throat. “If you need anything, call me. Please.”

“I will.” You replied. Then added, “You’ll be safe at home, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You hummed. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”

The call ended miserably and you wandered to the side of the room where you could drop into a chair. The good news was you wouldn’t have to worry about Grogu like some parents probably worried about their kids. Minutes later, the sound of strong wind and debris rattled the metal sheet covering the window you sat by. It made you jump in alarm and you silently thanked Wynn for stopping you.

That had come much sooner than twenty minutes.

You had to applaud Ms. Wynn and the other workers for their tenacity. The storm outside sounded miserable and terrifying, but the kids seemed nonplussed by it with the way the teachers distracted them. Around the end of the first hour, Aayla contacted you to ask about a few people who had wandered out into the storm and then stumbled into the clinic. Most of the injuries had been superficial⏤ the exposure short term as they came from nearby buildings. You walked her through how to mix some paste for burns.

It was during the second hour that the patients got too complicated for Aayla.

“I don’t know what to do, Doc.” Aayla’s voice shook. “I keep having him use his inhaler, but after a few minutes he ends up needing it again.”

“I’m worried he’s scorched his lungs. His asthma making it that much worse.”

“Do I mix a paste? Or⏤ Or make a solution?”

You sank in your seat. It was a solution that needed to be made, which you trusted Aayla to do, but that fluid then needed to be aerosolized. That way the patient could breathe it right into his lungs. Working with the machine that did so was tricky and even you weren’t the best at it. You hated the idea of getting Aayla to attempt it only to make a mistake and take on that guilt herself. She was still new to medicine. That kind of guilt shouldn’t be weighed on her conscience considering she hadn’t been trained for this.

“What’s his oxygen status right now?” You asked.

“It’s in the mid-80s and that’s with an oxygen mask on.”

Dank farrik. He might not make it to the end of this storm. The patient could crash much sooner than that. You gave Aayla a few orders to keep the man stable then pushed to stand. You caught Wynn’s attention and the woman drifted closer after helping a child with a small task. She gave you a warm smile, and you returned a skeptical one.

“Hi. So, I need a jacket, scarf, and some sunglasses.”

Wynn warned you against your idea, but you were dead set. You had no choice. So, ignoring her advice, you pressed on. You soaked the scarf in cold water then wrapped it a few times around your mouth and nose to use as a makeshift filter. The glasses would hopefully at least protect your eyes a little, and the jacket was to cover up the remainder of your skin. You were thankful you hadn’t worn shorts today. 

You had traveled to the back door to leave that way none of the ash would slip into the same room as the kids. It would take you 15 minutes to get to the clinic. It was now or never, you supposed.

Din was furious. His temper running hotter than the volcanic ash whipping around him. As it turned out, his helmet would keep out the dangerous conditions surrounding him. Grogu’s teacher had reached out to him to let him know that you had traveled out into the storm to reach a patient. She had done so to ensure that someone else was aware of the situation. Din had thanked her before rushing out himself. 

He asked one thing of you today. One. 

He just wanted you to stay inside the kriffing school with Grogu. It wasn’t asking a lot considering the literal fire and ash raining outside. It was common sense for someone to stay inside. Din was literally just asking you to follow common human survival instincts, yet you still left. You left, not protected in beskar as he was, but rather dressed in a wet scarf and jacket. As if that was going to help a karking thing.

Din tried to hail you over the communicator but it never got through. He told himself it was because of the storm. If even a little ash got into the communicator it’d glitch. That had to be it. Din refused to believe anything could have happened to you. Still, fear mingled with his rage, but he chose to ignore that for the time being.

Black and gray wind swirled around him, whipping his cloak in every direction, as flickers of burning ash drifted in the air. It was so thick that he could barely see a few feet in front of him. If he wasn’t careful, he could step right over you on accident and not even know it. The thick ash was beginning to settle on the ground in thick piles like the snow of Hoth. When he reached the clinic doors, he saw the metal shutters were down. Din didn’t hesitate to slam his hand against the metal as hard as he could.

If nobody opened the door soon he’d break through the shutters. Sure, ash would collect in the clinic lobby, but he’d deal with that problem later. Luckily for everyone, the shudders cracked open and Din quickly slipped through. Miriam, the new girl, had opened the door for him. Din didn’t mean to blow her off, but he sped past her. She was clever enough to open the second set of doors without him having to have asked. 

Inside the room, were a few people sitting on the cots or against the wall with a pink paste rubbed into splotches on their skin. Aayla stood in front of an older man who was struggling to breathe. A nebulizer, the same kind of machine that blasted a mist of medicine for Grogu, was being held up in front of his mouth.

“Where the kriff is she?” Din snapped.

Aayla nervously stiffened in place. She pointed out of the room, “There’s a small break room down the hall. She’s⏤She’s in there.” Din spun to leave, but Aalya called out to him. He nearly ignored her until she spoke again. “I think she’s more injured than she lets on. There’s some leftover pink paste from the last batch for her skin burns. Right now, she’s using the other nebulizer.”

Din huffed out a small thanks before snatching the jar off a side table and following her instructions out of the room. He wasn’t familiar with the back halls of the clinic, but he didn’t need any more clues to find you. Halfway down the hall he could hear a barking cough. Din picked up his pace then threw the break room door open hard enough that it slammed into the wall.

You startled where you were sitting at a table with a nebulizer mask held in front of your face. Your eyes widened in surprise and you opened your mouth to begin to say his name only for you to begin coughing violently. Just for a moment, his anger subsided. Din hurried over and set a hand on your shoulder to evaluate your injuries.

“Injuries. What’s wrong?”

“Just⏤ Just some burns.” Your voice was hoarse. “Worst of it⏤,” You began to cough again, “Lungs. In my lungs. Medicine will help.”

You took a few more deep breaths of the nebulizer and Din let his eyes trace your exposed skin. There were patches of mildly burned skin on your hands and on your forehead and upper cheeks. The pattern made it clear to see the shape of the sunglasses you had worn. Din tore off his glove and threw it aside rougher than he intended. Your eyes widened but you didn’t say anything. Din dug his fingers into the paste and began to rub it over every single burn he could see on you⏤ no matter how small. 

When he was appeased that he got every single injury, Din shoved the jar aside angrily and huffed, “Are you out of your damn mind?”

“No.” You replied. Your voice already sounding better. “It’s not like I had a choice.”

“Excuse me?” Din narrowed his eyes at you.

“I had a patient who needed me.” You shrugged. Then, you had the audacity to roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “Just relax, Din.”

Din pushed to stand so fast that the chair he sat in went sprawling back and you jumped at the sound. He set his hands on the table and leaned toward you. “Relax? Did you just tell me to kriffing relax??” You stared at him silently, and Din took a step back with a shake of his head. He scoffed. “Relax.” Din felt his blood boiling under his skin. “Bic ni skana'din.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. “You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to listen to me.” He leaned in once more. “You wanted me angry? Well, now I’m angry! Dank farrik! What the kriff were you thinking!? I told you to stay in the school. I made myself very clear.” He slammed a hand down onto the table in frustration. “Do you realize how badly that could’ve ended?!”

You set down the nebulizer mask, “Din, I had to⏤”

He reached out to snatch the mask from the table where you set it and forced it back into your hand. Din shoved your hand up so it was holding the mask by your mouth once more. “No, you didn’t. Those patients look fine in there.”

“The old man wasn’t.” You snapped back with a glare of your own. “He might not have made it till the end of the storm.”

“Was there a chance he could’ve?”

“I mean, I guess, but there was just as equal of a chance that he wouldn’t. I⏤”

“Then that’s the risk that gets made.” Din yelled. “You don’t risk your life like that ever again. Do you hear me!?”

“I’m a physician!” You cried. “What would you have me do, Din? Risk him dying⏤”

“Yes.” Din reached out and wrapped his hand gently on the side of your face. Din was breathing hard, his rage making him shake, but he kept his touch soft as he forced you to face him. “That’s exactly what I would have you do. I don’t give two shits about him, but you I can’t live without, ner kar’ta. Is that not clear to you!?” 

You shook your head. “You don’t mean that. You wouldn’t risk him dying.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Din let out a harsh laugh. He wouldn’t risk one of the citizens of his city dying. In your shoes, he probably would’ve done the same thing⏤ but that wasn’t the point. Din sucked in a sharp breath trying to get back to the point he was making. “If I tell you to stay put, in order to keep you safe, you will listen to me. Do you understand?” Your eyebrows furrowed deeper and Din understood the immediate distaste for his words, but he didn’t care. “I said, do you kriffing understand?”

The nebulizer stopped on it’s own and you tossed aside the mask before standing up with a scoff, “I understand, but I’m not promising you I won’t do the exact same thing again.” You tried to walk around the table, out of his reach, but Din mirrored your movements and met you on the other side to block you in. You shook your head. “This is my job. Helping people is what I do. I’m not going to put people at risk just because you don’t trust me to be competent enough to succeed.”

Maker, you were the most frustrating woman⏤ Din’s hands found his hips as he leaned into your space. “You think it’s a trust thing?” He barked out an angry laugh. “All it takes is one mistake, one miscalculated step, and that’s it. It’s not about competence or about trust. It’s about gambling, and I’m not going to let you gamble your life away for a stranger.”

“As if you’ve never gambled your life for a stranger before?? I highly doubt that.” You spat. “Din, you’re a good man and if you think⏤”

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“I said, no. I’m not.” Din said through clenched teeth. You were going to be the death of him. He was vibrating with frustration. Fear grabbed control of him at the realization that this was who you were. You were good, to your core, and this was going to keep happening. It was clear on your face that you didn’t believe his words. You weren’t getting this, and Din wasn’t good enough with words to get you to. Resolution settled in his mind, determination, and his next words came out in a low growl. “Close your eyes.”

You blinked almost owlishly. “Huh?”

“Close your eyes, ner kar’ta.” Din demanded, his hands traveling to his helmet without pause. Your eyes widened in alarm before shutting tight. It scrunched your features up. Din tore his helmet off and slammed it onto the table before closing the space between the two of you.

Din had never kissed someone before, which seemed ridiculous considering the other acts he had performed, but the idea of it seemed easy enough. His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head up enough that he could press his lips firmly against yours. Din held them there until he felt your entire body slowly relax. He pulled back just a bit and opened his eyes to see your features had softened though your eyes remained closed. Din’s nose brushed against yours, unable to bring himself to pull away from you any further. He mumbled the next words out, exhausted, but tightened his grip around your face in hopes to get his message across loud and clear, “I am not a good man. I’m a selfish man, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do⏤ no line I wouldn’t cross⏤ to keep you and Grogu safe.” Din leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you without asking permission. I just… Ner kar’ta, I cannot lose you and I didn’t know how to…”

“It’s okay.” You mumbled. “I‘ll forgive you on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“Kiss me again.” You breathed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to your toes, and Din didn’t hesitate to meet you halfway. His lips pressed against yours once more, but this time it wasn't so simple. It was messy, for lack of a better word. Your lips moved against his, furiously, and Din mimicked every action. It was as if the anger of your argument had shifted and transformed into this moment right here. Teeth clashing against teeth, tongue pressing against tongue. The kiss was desperate and felt like a battle. You versus him in a competition to devour the other, and Din was never one to back away from a challenge. 

He hooked his arms under your legs, lifting and turning, so he could set you on the table. Din’s hands shoved aside the nebulizer machine that sat in the way and he heard the device clatter against the tile floor. He’d buy the clinic a new one. Din pressed into you forcing you to either catch yourself by reaching back or continue clinging to him. You chose to keep your arms around his neck, wrapping around even tighter, and Din had to readjust and wrap his arms around your waist to keep you both from collapsing onto the table.

Din took a chance by nipping on your lower lip and the moan that left you was the perfect reward. He licked into your open mouth, a similar action you had done to him, and it deepened the kiss once more. Finally, breathlessly, Din was forced to pull back just enough to get air. You were panting as well⏤ the only sound in the room being the heavy breaths you shared between one another and the howling storm outside.

“I’m sorry I forgot to pick up Grogu.” You said and the disappointment in your whispered words made his chest ache. “I’m sorry I left last night instead of staying to talk. I’m sorry for yelling at you this morning.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Din replied. “All of this could’ve been avoided if I had just told you about Mandalore. I also promise to get more angry at you if you promise it’ll always end like this.” The soft, breathy laugh that left your lips was like a reassuring melody. You were safe. You were in his arms. You were okay. Din let out a breath of relief. “Ner kar’ta…”

You tilted your mouth against his to let a soft kiss linger against his. The exact opposite of the kind of kiss the two of you had shared. You sighed, “Why did it have to come to this? Why wouldn't you just admit you were upset with me?”

“I… I was worried about scaring you away if I lost my temper.” He admitted. “Things felt so good between us, so perfect, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Telling me how you really feel is never going to ruin anything, Din. I want that. I want to know what you’re thinking.” You replied. “Fighting isn’t always a bad thing.”

Din pressed his lips softly against yours once⏤ twice⏤ three times. “I can see that.” Maker, maybe taking his helmet off was a bad idea. After getting to feel your lips against his it was going to be twice as difficult to maintain his control. “I need to put my helmet back on, ner kar’ta.”

You chuckled and set a soft kiss against his cheek before releasing him. Din took one more second to stare at you, unhindered by his visor, and he loved the way your lips were swollen from his. He grabbed his helmet and tugged it back on. When it was back in place he let you know. It was cute the way you peeked out of only one eye, just in case, before letting both open. 

“I think I’m ready to talk about Mandalore now.” You shrugged. “Unless, you have something better to talk about?”

Din chuckled and gave you a small shrug. “We can talk about how you were my first kiss, if you’d like.”

“I am?” Your eyes widened. “Seriously?” He nervously gave you a small nod⏤ face burning under his helmet. “Oh man, I am so sorry. If I had know I would’ve⏤ would’ve⏤ I don’t know. Been gentler?” Din laughed at the concern drawn all over your face. Your lips twitched up but you gave him a small shove. “I’m serious! Maker, I was basically going for your tonsils…”

Din lifted a hand to hold your chin. “I’m not complaining.” He leaned his cold forehead against yours. “And by the way, I am proud of you. I’m so proud of everything you do. I… Can you promise to at least call me before you do something risky?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I can promise that.”

Din would take the victory where he could.

mando'a translations:

Nuhoy morut'yc, adi’ka

Sleep safe, little one.

Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar

I feel at home with you.  

Nuhoy morut’yc, ner kar’ta.

Sleep safe, my heart.

Bic ni skana'din.

Expression of being angry or repelled, i.e. ‘that really ticks me off’

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastovaova @uwu-i-purple-youu @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassedd @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal

[formulaocean]

Fic Writer Interview (Ty for the tag @honeyandthunderstorms 💕)

All under the cut as ever!

How many works do you have on ao3?

On this account 9! A couple are anon (if you‘re seeing this on tumblr I really do not care however) and I did have an old account though.

What’s your total word count?

So far 75,788 apparently. Curious to see what it’ll get to by the end of the year in all honesty!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

On this account-

et circenses

Sweet as Cinnamon

FIA Mandated Work of Public Interest

“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free”

Both But I miss you (I’m sorry) and You’re So Golden are apparently at the same exact count which I did not know!

Strange to see them in this order actually!

Do you respond to comments? Why/ why not?

I try to now- originally I just didn’t want to open up a work again once it’d been posted so I was awful but try to now and think fondly of commentators I recognise but it’s still not all the time. I try to comment on fics I read too (although I’m reading a bit less online now)- it’s just a nice thing to do :)

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I left my multi chap fic on a literal cliff hanger recently so likely that! Otherwise You’re Nothing More Than His Wife as the ending is both ambiguous and depressing and just full of angsty lesbians as a whole.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

But I miss you (I’m sorry). Brocedes healed and Lewis won Silverstone there is no greater joy than that. Plus the mental image of Lewis and Vivian making Nico’s daughters costumes for The Eras Tour? I think about it A LOT.

Do you write crossovers?

I have literally written/ am writing a Hunger Games F1 AU if that counts? Otherwise I have a tennis x f1 crossover in my drafts I repeatedly come back to and will try to finish off over winter- Charles and Jannik become friends and figure out how to woo an emotional support rival over the course of the 2024 F1 and ATP seasons.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really? One person got weirdly angry about writing Charles as a top (they switch for me in general and I was going through a bottom max phase but like I get it). Also I was told that one chapter of a fic was quite similar to a Harry Potter one but we worked it out in the comments :)

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Um. On occasion. Definitely as a way to explore characters and I wish I wrote smut better because the sections are short in comparison to the fics. I have literally gotten writers block from not liking the smut part before in premises which hinge on it being written.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Definitely not. If I had I’d say get better taste.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not other than by me! My drafts/plots are all in German first before they get written.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but there’s a few people I bounce ideas off of and do the same in return! I am not on discord though so when you ask me about what I think about what you shared there I literally do not know 😅

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Oh wow. Probably Percabeth. For nostalgia’s sake. Or Sansa/Margeary for a similar reason.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

There’s a Charles/Lewis Ferrari one which keeps growing but then I realise I need to add more to it whenever it does grow so I’ll say that for now.

Basically Charles seduces everyone around Lewis but to levels that psychologically haunt him during a title fight. Recently Lewis walked in on a garage 16 gangbang but thought he hallucinated it after seeing Charles out for dinner with Fred at the only vegan restaurant in Maranello 10 minutes later. He runs to see Seb in Switzerland to calm down but turns out Charles is already there and eating sourdough and may or may not have had a threesome with Seb and his wife. Nico and Carlos and the fencer are involved. It’s just a bit of a wild ride.

Other than that a Carlandoscar life drawing au I gave up on when McLaren were annoying me. Oscar signs up to be a model to fulfil an art cred for engineering, Carlos is a history of art grad student and the ta, Lando is Oscar’s roommate and a graphic design student with a crush on Carlos and takes the class not expecting to see Oscar in the nude. Mark Webber is there.

What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told themes and world building!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Time management and general clunkiness in grammar and tenses. Just your classic second language things :)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Occasional words are fine but don’t overuse it. When it’s clunks of text it just reminds me of academic journals that go between English, Latin, Greek, German, and Italian all in 2 pages.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think it was Les Mis? That or The 100.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

F1 wise something involving Oscar or George as a main character or a stand-alone Sebchal rather than Sebchalmax.

Other than that I have a few tennis mini ideas and lines I just haven’t ventured there yet- f1 is more fandom to me I guess but I’d love to do Sincaraz or Igaryna properly.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free”. I just find it really beautiful. I took a bit of inspiration from it for my vestal virgin au that should be out during winter break and going back into a historical/artsy tone has been really nice.

I’m so bad at matching tumblr users to fic writers but no pressure tagging @f1ggotry @saviour-of-lord @chandelier-s-notebook @f1-giuki @on-sinkingships @toppamplemousse and anyone else who wants 💕

[bredrawz]

Which oc of yours has the most character lore?

(Also hiii I'm so glad you liked my artfight drawing 😋)

vikki and glume have the most lore out of my ocs (for all my current ocs)

even ocs within their universe arent as fleshed out! all the ocs and some of their spoiler-free info are on my art fight page, but all of my current ocs are linked into one universe so heres a ranking of how much lore each character has:

1 - Vikki

this girl definitely has more lore considering her ghost seeing abilities adding onto her character

1 - Glume

being the main protagonist of the universe she almost ties with vikki with how much lore she has. but since vikki has supernatural powers i think shed be considered to have more but these two are at a. lose equal tbh

3 - rose and edric

will not give any info on their roles in the story but they definitely have their own story i have thought out

4 - nancy and eleanor

youve seen nancy on my art fight but she has a supporting story as she was the previous wife of edric, but she doesn’t have too much lore and is just simply mentioned in the comic (thats as much as ill say regarding her). as for eleanor, you’re all just hearing about her today but to prevent spoiling my own comic before its even published… ill just say she has a backstory lol

5- eli

i hate him but think hes so silly at the same time. hes not spoken too much about in the comic but does have a few appearances, i’ll definitely make minicomics with him but despite not much being said about him in the book he actually has a history with glume and an entire profile on their equivalent to twitter where he posts about being an “alpha male” unironically. no, he cannot name 5 soap brands.

6- mark

hes a dead sassy asshole who has a backstory of his life that isnt really explored in the comics besides a small summary since he isnt too important plotwise. but again, along with the other characters with little appearances i might make minicomics oitside the book for him.

7- summer

little is explained about her life besides her occupation and a reference to how she died

8- violet and kevin

more character new to the public but they have a bit of lore and these kids wont be featured in the book but if theres a book two i might add them in. honestly they were made after i finished writing out the full story, i just wanted to expand the universe for funsies yk

9- anne

i feel bad this queen is so low on the list since i love her but i havent thought of a proper backstory for her. all i have is shes glumes sister and is used to kinda bring out glumes character more and is a supporting character. her backstory wouldnt even be relevant in the story as shes a background/sligh side character, but she still deserves one (all the characters that remain vague on lore do)

10- the bathroom ghost

no this is not hanako, in fact, this dude is not even close to being as cool. i cant say much but theyre bland and you only hear about their death. theyre yet another character that is new to the public.

if you actually listened through my ramblings about my ocs congrats, heres a cookie 🍪

if you’re interested in the comic tumblr is the place to be since i’ll probably talk about it most here

for those curious about the current state of Paranormal (my comic), i’ve decided to do all the bases traditionally. i filled two sketchbooks with a rough draft, but now im working on the actual comic itself on a new sketchbook. its fairly small so once i finish it, ill transfer that book to digital, then get new ones of the same size, and work on the comic segment by segment. honestly itll make the process seem smaller than it is so ill get done faster (i think idk). but so far im moving fast and the style changed again. i might post a sneak peak on here.

feel free to ask questions regarding Paranormal, the characters, or even specifically one character youre interested in.

okie bye :p

[person25]

so i’ve already talked about my feelings for daminette, now i thinks it’s time for the other maribat ship (that i’ve read for) (skip the first two ships if you actually want to read interesting words)

dick x marinette:

honestly, i haven’t read much and have only seen it where they knew each other in the circus. the least popular out of the (male) robins. i think it could be adorable if executed well but yk i haven’t really put my heart into it so i can’t say much.

tim x marinette:

definitely cute, both usually a mess, also addicted to coffee?? i mean whatever helps you through the day. i like the dynamic a lot. i feel like marinette would be most likely to get in a relationship with tim out of the others, based on what? what my brain tells me. they deserve to live happily ever after with each other. also don’t have much to say about them, i enjoy it👍

jason x marinette:

now this is where it gets interesting, jason and marinette would make a very good couple imo. balance each other out and all that. mari is always a badass in these which is definitely a slay. honestly these do everything right that i have a problem with in daminette fics, probably bc most people writing these have a stronger understanding of the characters than daminette writers (respectfully)

almost always talks about jason’s trauma aswell as marinettes which i personally want more of in daminette fics. more explicit fics than any of the other (i’m pretty sure anyways) so if that’s what you’re into, this is probably the one. also quite a bit of soulmate aus (again my fav if done right)

usually older than 20 so more mature and not in high school. high school is fine until you’re tired of it and don’t want to read it ever again, iykyk.

honestly my 2nd fav (as much as i tear daminette down it’ll always be #1 in my heart fr) they just have that special something the others don’t

other things about maribat as a whole i haven’t talked about yet:

i really don’t like when mari can beat any of the boys in a fight out of her suit unless it explicitly states how she’s so strong. these boys have been training their whole lives and i don’t think marinette could beat them with little training out of the suit. like don’t make her strong bc you want her to be strong do it to further the story or have a good explanation as to why

i may have said i don’t like salt but i definitely do, as long as it makes sense at least a little bit. i think any ship other than daminette (depends on the fic ofc) does salt well, honestly like adrien as a bestie more than an enabler but if you don’t like adrien definitely read a maribat salt fic

i have talked abt this but i’m gonna say it again bc it also happens with these ships, marinette does not have more trauma than any of these people and unless you specifically make it that way (which would take a lot of work and a lot of trauma considering what they’ve been through) i don’t like people writing it as if she does when the most they say she’s been through is losing a couple friends and them being slightly mean ( i am NOT talking abt when they physically harass/assault her)

another thing about daminette is that he has green eyes and a tanner complexion so they don’t look too alike but with the rest of the ships they look like siblings and it’s not a deal breaker or anything just a siblings or dating situation

things i’m willing to talk abt if you give me time to read fics:

bruce x marinette:

honestly never thought abt it but if i put enough will power in it i’ll read some, even if it’s a tad bit weird

maribat f/f ships:

i will 100% do this, i just need time to finish a tim x mari fic (i read for this post) bc while i can read multiple fics at a time k cannot read multiple maribats at a time and i’ll read some bc i love the idea just never got around to it

also i’m still new to (posting on) tumblr so bare with me🙏

@fallenkingsvale

[banannabethchase]

Oops.

After declaring war on each other in a Revolution Texas Death Match, Mox approaches Hangman in the locker room and offers an idea: whoever wins gets to pick a tattoo for the other. The problem? The ring isn't where their interest in each other begins or ends.

~

Title from Can I Have A Kiss? by Kelly Clarkson. This fic came about from a damned text post on Tumblr. And it became this. How did I reach this point in my life where a text post can inspire over 8k worth of wrestling fic?

Mini Playlist: Can I Have a Kiss? - Kelly Clarkson Do Me - Kim Petras Young God - Halsey I Want It - Two Feet

Tagging @adampage as requested :)

~

“Fuck off.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Mox raises his hands in front of himself. He chances another step into the room, and he doesn’t get punched for it, so he considers it a win.

“I didn’t tell you to shut up,” Hangman corrects, glaring. “I told you to fuck off. Leave.”

“Come on, Cowboy, you can’t be pissed off about the death match. You know you wouldn’t be satisfied without one more try.” Mox tries for a grin, but it feels funny on his lips.

“I am not pissed about the death match,” Adam says, punching his gear to shove it into his bag and then throwing the bag against the locker.

Mox raises an eyebrow. “You sure? Because it looks like –”

“You think I’ll be happy with a tie?!” Hangman kicks at the air in front of him, and it reminds Mox of a kid he knew in kindergarten. Or himself. Whatever. “You think being 2-2 is enough for me?” He looks up at Mox with more than just rage in his eyes, something that Mox is…more interested in than he probably should be.

“It would put us even.”

Hangman scoffs at that, yanking his shirt off over his head. Mox gets it. Sometimes shirts are too much. But that doesn’t mean he can keep himself from looking. “Fuck, okay? I don’t want to be even.” He strides up to Mox, forehead to forehead, and it strikes Mox that, maybe, this is how the two of them are supposed to meet, in every universe. “I want to win.”

Mox doesn’t know why he says it. “Let’s add a stipulation, then.”

Hangman pulls back, stares at Mox like he’s trying to read whatever’s on his face. “What, more than Texas Death Match?”

Mox shrugs, and he can’t fight the grin on his lips. “Tattoo.”

“Come again?”

Always so goddamn polite. “A tattoo stipulation,” Mox clarifies. “Just between the two of us. Whoever wins the Texas Death Match gets to choose a tattoo that the other one will get.”

Hangman stares at him, studies him, in a way that makes him feel a little too seen. “I don’t have any tattoos,” he says slowly.

“I know,” Mox says, and he risks a grin. “I figure it would give you more motivation to win. Since, uh,” he steps a little bit closer, “since you’re gonna be in my territory, and all.”

Hangman pauses halfway through putting on his shirt again, eyes the only thing really visible on his face. He shakes his head a little, then pulls the shirt all the way on. Mox considers it a bit of a pity. “In your territory.”

Mox nods. “Yeah, king of the death match or whatever. Figured you’d do best if you had a little extra motivation.”

“I don’t need,” Hangman’s lips curl around the last words, “extra motivation.”

“Well, you haven’t been –” Mox can’t finish his sentence, because Adam’s grabbed a handful of his shirt and thrown him into the wall. Mox’s head cracks, a little harder than he wants it to, and he sees stars.

“You think beating your ass into the ground with a chair isn’t motivation enough?” Hangman growls. He’s got his forehead up against Mox’s again. “You think its not enough for me to be desperate for a win?” He steps back and shoves Mox, once more, into the wall. “Don’t underestimate me, Moxley. It’ll be your worst mistake.” He stares at Mox for a minute, studying, planning. “But, yeah, sure. I’ll give you another tattoo. You’re on.”

Mox watches him leave, and has to roll his shoulders a dozen time to calm himself down. Part of him wonders if this is a way for him to mark Hangman, if this dumb idea has a little more behind it.

He shakes his head once more, trying to get the distraction out from behind his eyes, and wonders if he has made an extremely stupid idea.

~

The Death Match goes as expected. Well, as expected as a Texas goddamned Death Match can go.

Up until the end, that is.

Up until Hangman manages to beat him, he’s lying on the floor listening to Bryce yell, “Ten!”, and he still hasn’t stood up.

The bell rings, and Hangman’s music hits, and Mox is still on the floor.

He blinks, the world a little sticky through the blood all over his face, to see Hangman reaching a hand down to him. He stares at it, for just a moment.

“Take my hand, you stubborn prick,” Hangman says, but there’s the tiniest bit of a laugh behind it.

Mox wants to hesitate, wants to slap it away, but the unsteadiness pooling in his legs is making him unsure he could stand without help. He takes Hangman’s hand, and finally stands.

They’re holding hands now. Just standing there, hand in unlovable hand or however that song Bryan likes goes. Mox’ll be damned if he lets go first.

Like he expected, Hangman folds first, giving him a little shake before letting go. Mox watches the way his fingers flex, wonders if Hangman’s feeling the same sort of question crawl up his spine begging to be answered. It settles along Mox’s shoulders, weighs itself there.

“Gimme a mic,” Hangman says. Bryce, confused, relents, grabbing the mic from the ring crew, and hands it to Hangman.

This wasn’t planned. They weren’t supposed to do a promo. Were they? Fuck.

“I just gotta say,” Hangman says, a little smile playing at the edges of his lips, “you’re the toughest son of a bitch I’ve been in the ring with. Now that we’ve bled together, I’m hoping we can put this to bed.”

Mox could swear Hangman just winked.

He reaches out hesitantly, taking the mic from Hangman. “Bled together, that’s an understatement.” He kicks at the scraps at the ground. “That shirt of yours used to be white.” He lets the crowd laugh at it, and gets a little warm at the smile he’s managed to draw from Hangman. “But, sure. I’ll stop trying to kill you.”

“Deal.”

They shake hands again, and when they lock eyes, Mox thinks he sees the same thing behind Hangman’s that has been lurking in the corners of his mind since October of 2022.

~

“What are you –”

“Oh, calm down,” Hangman says, shoving Mox into the tiny room. He closes the door behind the two of them.

“Oh, we playing seven minutes in heaven?” Mox asks, grinning. He feels…strange, somehow. Not the same relaxation as he usually gets after a match. There’s still a bit of anticipation blanketing his shoulders, that feeling in his spine like he’s getting ready to snap.

“Nah, we only got, like, three before somebody looks for us,” Hangman says offhandedly, and Mox is about to say he could do a lot in three minutes when Hangman adds, “dude, can you just call me by my actual name?”

Mox blinks at him. It’s hard to tell in the shitty custodial closet light, but Hangman looks sincere. Under all the blood coating his face, that is. “What?”

“You never use my name,” Hang – Adam says. “I’m either Cowboy or the Hangman. I have a name.”

“Right,” Mox says. “Um. Adam.”

“Christ, thank you,” he rolls his eyes. “I thought you forgot I had a real name.”

Mox can’t help but grin. “Is that, like, a thing for you?”

This time, the blood is under his skin, a flush that paints his cheeks pretty. “Okay, look, we’re gonna be friends or allies or not killing each other anymore. I just – I wanted to make sure you, like, knew my actual name.” He relaxes, his smile a little meaner. “Since, you know, you sometimes forget things.”

“I missed my cue on a promo once,” Mox says, glaring. “Once!”

H-Adam shrugs. “On that note, I’ve decided on the tattoo.”

“Tattoo?”

“Get a sheet of note paper on your arm,” Adam says. Like it makes sense. “Like a to-do list.”

Mox raises an eyebrow, feeling it sting as it jostles the cut above his eye until it hits him. “As – as a tattoo?”

Adam pulls up a photo on his phone, shoves it in Mox’s face. “See? This way you quit forgetting shit. I’ve had, like, students and friends and whatever with memory issues, usually ADHD, and I know it’s not on purpose or anything.” His smile falls from mocking to something a little more genuine. “I figure if I’m gonna make you get a tattoo, I may as well pick something that helps you.”

Mox stares. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” Adam looks genuinely confused, which is a weird look through a halo of bloodied hair. It’s a good look on him. “I figure you put it on your wrist, it’s easy to see.” He shrugs, growing defensive. “Whatever. I mean, if you’re not cool with it, you can just. Not.” He steps back, hand going for the closet door.

Mox groans. “Oh, now you get to choose where it goes on my body? That wasn’t part of the stipulation.” He smiles, though, trying to make it light again. He doesn’t want Adam to open the door. Not yet.

“Okay, well, it was your idea. I’m not gonna make you get the tattoo if you don’t want to, obviously.” He meets Mox’s eyes, and looks way too genuine. “Seriously. I won’t hold you to it.”

“You beat the shit out of me, make me bleed from four different places, damn near snap my neck with a Buckshot and two Dead Eyes, and your tattoo choice is something nice?!” Mox rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ. The cowboy thing isn’t just an act, is it.”

Adam blinks, tilting his head. “What? I – no, I literally live on a farm.”

Mox groans and launches at Adam, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him in to kiss some sort of sense into the man. It’s a split second before Adam responds, a second where Mox is sure he’s done something truly horrible that Megha might kill him for, but then Adam kisses back. Mox shivers at the way Adam’s stubble scrapes against his skin, the way his hair feels as Mox threads his fingers through it, and it’s unexpected. But it’s inevitable.

Adam pulls back, eyes a little wild like they get in the ring. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Mox says. “I mean, uh. I didn’t plan on that.”

Adam lets a little smile play on his lips, and Mox wants to chase after it, keep it in his pocket. “Yeah? Not surprising, you impulsive dumbass.”

“I – fuck off.”

Shrugging, Adam gets a little closer, steps into Mox’s space again. “You text me when you get your tattoo.” Mox doesn’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to Mox’s lips. “Uh. If you’re cool with my idea?”

“Of the to-do list paper?” Mox asks. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll put you at the top of it,” and he pauses, for emphasis, “Adam.”

Adam licks his lips and steps back, smile a little knowing, a little devious. Mox wants to get to know it better. “Yeah.” His smile just keeps growing. “Yeah, you do that.” He stares at Mox. “You – after you get cleaned up, I mean – you wanna watch the rest of Revolution together? I mean, Uno might give you some shit about killing him the other week, but you’re welcome to join us.” Mox isn’t sure what that crease between Adam’s eyebrows is saying, only that it’s different than what the smile suggests. “Wait, you’re probably gonna hang with the other Blackpool guys.” He waves it off, like he’s having a conversation with himself, like Mox is only secondary to this discussion. He walks backward, collides with the door. “I’m gonna – go. I’m gonna get cleaned up. The blood.” He touches his hair, winces as it sticks to his hand. “Uh. Yeah.”

Mox is left even more confused than when he first kissed Adam, and is wondering what the hell comes next.

~

A tattoo appointment. That’s what comes next.

“Mox, this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yuta says, upside down on the couch. He’s scrolling through his phone, probably on Twitter.

“Is not,” Mox says. He feels the familiar adrenaline spike of the tattoo gun buzzing, and steels himself before it touches the skin of his wrist. “It makes sense. It’s funny. And it’s what Page chose, so.”

“That’s what I mean.” Yuta actually puts the damn phone away and looks at Mox. It’s weird, since it’s upside down, but it’s his best attempt at a stern look, so Mox takes it. “Why are you getting a tattoo somebody else told you to get?”

“Stipulation,” Mox answers.

Yuta sighs. Sometimes he gets the same look on his face as Mox’s therapist. Mox doesn’t love it. “Wasn’t the Texas Death bit enough?”

“No,” Mox says. “It wasn’t. He wanted to win – ow, fuck – more than just to a tie. He wanted it to be definitive.”

“Wouldn’t that mean,” Yuta looks so earnest Mox wants to hit him, “you know. A fifth match?”

Mox shrugs. “I mean. Sure? But the tattoo,” he pauses, hissing as the tattoo drags over thin skin, “is, like. I don’t know. More permanent.”

Yuta’s doing therapist face again. “Is this your marking thing coming up again?”

That’s enough to get the tattoo artist to pause, look up with a raised eyebrow.

“I can guarantee you’ve heard weirder with someone in the chair,” Mox says to Carlisle.

He shrugs, adjusts his grip, and goes back to work. “Nah, dude, I get you. My girlfriend designed the tattoos that go around my top surgery scars. I’m just a little confused why a piece of paper is what you came up with.”

“He came up with it,” Mox corrects.

“Your boyfriend?”

Yuta barks out a laugh so loud Mox almost jumps.

“So,” Carlisle says, face carefully neutral, “not your boyfriend.”

Mox glares at Yuta until he stops laughing, the dick, and says, “No, it’s – it’s a wrestling thing.”

“I would ask, but I know better,” Carlisle says, laughing a little. “Alright. Tell me what you think. I can make some of the lines a little thicker on the outside, add some shading, if you want it to look like a real piece of paper or something.”

Mox examines it. Plain lined notebook paper, sized down to fit a rectangular space on his forearm. “Nah, it’s good. Reminds me of high school.”

“That can’t be a good thing,” Yuta says, wrinkling his nose. “Wait. Didn’t Hangman teach –”

“It’s great, Carlisle, thanks,” Mox says, debating pulling off his shoe and chucking it directly at Yuta’s face.

Yuta seems to sense the impending violence and shuts up, starts smiling at his phone like a dweeb. Mox makes him take a photo of the ink, before Carlisle puts the medical tape over the new ink and gives Mox the rundown on tattoo care.

“Yeah, I know. No sweating, no direct water pressure, don’t scratch it.” But he says it nice. He thinks. “Thanks, Carlisle. It looks great.”

“Anytime.” He nods over at Yuta. “You want any tattoos while I’m set up here?” He grins. “You’d look even better with a little ink.”

Yuta’s eyes go wide, the way they do when somebody hits on him, and he shakes his head. “Uh, no, thank you. I’m not really a tattoo guy.”

Carlisle shrugs, unbothered. “You could pull one off.” He pulls out a card and walks around to press it into Yuta’s hand. “If you change your mind.”

Yuta is silent for a little bit as Mox does his best to chill the mood by chatting with Carlisle and helping him get his mobile tattoo station together.

“He said he has a girlfriend,” Yuta says, once they’re alone in the room. “Why would he – he was just talking about the tattoo, right?”

“Oh, young Yoots,” Mox says, clapping him on the shoulder. “One day you will listen to me when I tell you about the ways of the world.”

Yuta pushes his arm off, frowning up at him. “Stop being weird. You’re not my dad.”

“And you’re glad I’m not.” Mox winks at him. “Come on. I can’t spar or anything, but I can, like, arm wrestle. I gotta get rid of this adrenaline.”

“Go find your boyfriend then,” Yuta shoots back.

Mox puts him in a noogie, and they both forget about Hangman Adam Page. For a little while.

~

“Fuck.” Mox sits up in bed at a speed that makes him dizzy. “Fuck!”

He reaches for his phone, and it tumbles a bit from his hands as he’s trying to type. got the tattoo he sends to the number labeled Dumb Fucking Cowboy. He stole it from Yuta, and god knew where he got it from originally.

Um. Who is this again?

Polite even to an unknown number. its Mox wanna see the ink or no

There’s a little bit of a pause, long enough for him to wonder if there’s somebody else in Yuta’s phone he would have named HP, and then his phone dings. Did you get a tattoo at four in the morning?

no dumbass

So you forgot to text me when you got it? Something about irony.

Mox glares at his phone screen. “This is why you’re the dumb fucking cowboy,” he grumbles, and presses call. “You don’t get to be a bitch when you answered the message.”

“Good evening to you, too.” His voice is gravelly, sleepy. That strange weight settles along Mox’s spine again. He’s suddenly very, very awake. “What’s it look like?”

“Huh?”

“The tattoo.” There’s some rustling. “What’s it look like?”

“Kinda like your picture. Here, give me a sec.” Mox sends the photo he’d had Carlisle take right before putting the medical tape on. “See? Tattoo. You officially win.”

“I still can’t believe you went through with it,” Adam says. “Looks good.”

And Mox speaks before he can stop himself. “Decided against tattooing your name at the top of the list.”

A silence, heavy, settles over the line. Mox thinks he can hear breathing, but just barely. “That would have been incredibly stupid,” Adam says.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly known to be a brain trust, so.” He rolls his shoulders. He’s not sure he can quite get this feeling to go away. It sticks like taffy. “It’d be funny.”

“That you’d put me at the top of your to-do list?” Adam laughs. It sounds different than usual. “Yeah. Hah.” His tone shifts, just a little. “Funny.”

That weight is insistent. Makes him a little bold. “You’re not laughing, though.”

“No,” Adam says, after a brief pause. “Not really.”

Mox is stupid, and impulsive. “What’s not funny about it?”

Adam lets out a little exhale that’s half laugh, half sigh. Mox wonders what caused the sigh, wants to taste it as it escapes Adam’s lips. “You’re the one that kissed me in that closet, Moxley. You already know.” There’s that sigh again.

“Adam,” Mox breathes, “what are you doing right now?”

The laugh is breathy, almost a gasp. “Take a wild guess.”

And Mox’s dick is officially in the game. He slides his hand into the front of his boxers, wrapping his hand around himself. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s Adam. “Yeah?”

“Don’t act surprised,” Adam murmurs into the phone. “Again, you’re the one who kissed me.”

“Well – you kissed back.” Mox winces. It sounded better in his head.

“I did,” Adam replies. “Come on. Tell me what you wanted to do in that closet.”

Mox exhales. He licks up his hand for a little better glide, and wraps his hand around his cock. His head falls back against the pillows, finally allowing himself to let go. “Wanted – wanted my cock in your mouth,” he says, the words coming freely. Something about an hour this early lets his brain lose a filter, lets him talk like he thinks. “Let you blow me.”

“Let me blow you?” Adam asks. “You should be so lucky, you prick.” He hums, something quiet. Mox notices his drawl’s a little thicker, a little more pronounced.

“What’d you want?” Mox asks, a little desperate to hear that voice again.

“Maybe you get me against the wall,” Adam says, “fuck me so hard my head spins.”

Mox feels the weight on his spine fill his head with images. Adam, panting all pretty, legs spread and pushing back on Mox’s cock. The way his cock would feel, smooth and heavy in Mox’s hand as he stroked him. He lets out a moan, something a little too close to the name on the other end of the line.

“Yeah?” Adam asks. “Sound good to me, too. What – uh – what about next time we see each other? Meet up?”

“Yeah,” Mox says, wishing he had someone’s mouth to claim right now. Wishing he could taste the words pouring out of the phone. They sound so pretty. “Get you under me, make you feel me.”

“Sounds good,” Adam groans. “Fuck – I, Mox, put me at the top of that list.”

“I will,” Mox says, laughing, and the two of them seem to race toward the inevitable at the same time. Mox is pretty sure he hears his name choked out on the end of a moan from Adam’s end of the phone, and it’s enough to drive him over the edge. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like Hangman, which is a surprise to himself.

“You forget my name again?” Adam asks, after a few moments of strange silence.

“Shut the fuck up, Adam,” Mox growls.

“I’ll take that to mean you’re going back to sleep. Night, Mox. I, uh,” his tone immediately shifts, back to something a little hesitant, and more than a little anxious, “I won’t hold you to your promises earlier. If you don’t want to.”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” Mox blurts out. “I mean, if it was all talk, that’s cool, but I, uh. I was kind of looking forward to that at Dynamite on Wednesday.”

“Cool,” Adam says. “Yeah. I, uh. Yeah. Text me?”

Mox can practically hear Adam wince through the phone. “Yeah,” he says, and he decides to test something out, “yeah, baby, I’ll text you.”

Adam sighs. “Okay. Night.”

“Night.”

Mox hangs up the phone and reaches for a tissue. He is fucked.

~

Mox is fucked, and he’s antsy.

He’s backstage at the Dynamite after Revolution, after his phone call in the earlier hours of Tuesday morning, and there’s a strange sort of anticipation. It’s replaced that weight in his shoulder, but insists on itself somehow more. He wants to see Adam. No, he needs to see Adam.

He’s somehow both in luck and in a horrible place, since they’re both scheduled to show up tonight. Adam, with a victory speech. Mox, ringside for Claudio and Yuta for a tag team match against Silver and Reynolds, a quick burning grudge match Mox isn’t exactly proud to have created. He secretly hopes Adam comes out. He’s not so secretly scared of what he’ll do when he sees him.

Adam’s a ray of gold across the screen when he cuts his promo. He looks better than he has any right to as he grins through a declaration of violence, as he asks for anyone brave enough to step up to him. Mox does snort when Adam calls himself the king of the death match, because no, but he can’t take his eyes off the screen. He knows what that voice sounds like when it comes. He wants to know how that face changes as it lets go, too.

Mox flexes his hands, desperate to release at least a little bit of the tension coiled in his body. It doesn’t work. He tries to come up with an idea of how to run into Adam somewhere in this venue. It’s big, but he’s got a decent amount of directionality according to himself, so.

He is wrong.

Mox is only able to get himself out of what he can only assume is a storage hallway by listening for the clattering of people. He gets the clattering of silverware instead and considers it a win.

He reaches the door to catering, and nearly melts with relief. Until he sees Adam, and the weight settles itself around his shoulders and down his spine again. He doesn’t have to worry, though. Adam lights up, rays of gold spreading across the room, when he sees Mox step into the room.

Mox is stupid, and strides up to him.  

“I was looking for you– ”

“I was hoping we could – ”

Mox stops. He’s blushing. Why the hell is he blushing? “Sorry. You talk.”

Adam exhales. “I was hoping we could, uh, talk?” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, and Mox is weirdly comforted that he’s not the only one feeling some sort of nerves. “Alone.” His eyes skate across the area. Mox forgot they’re in front of half the company and follows the way Adam traces the area with his eyes.

“Right, yeah. I, uh. I can kick the rest of the BCC out of our locker room, if you want.”

Adam grins. It’s not his handsome cowboy smile. There’s something interesting behind it. Something Mox wants to feel. “Probably a good idea.”

He texts Hangman the directions and the room number, and sets off to BCC headquarters, as Claudio gets weird about saying.

Without fanfare, he pushes open the door. “Out.”

Yuta’s upside down on a bench, balancing on the top of his head. Scrolling on his goddamn phone again. “Huh?”

“Everybody out,” Mox says, with a little more authority. “I need the room.”

Claudio stares from where he’s stretching. “For what?”

“None of your business,” Mox says, cutting a grin at him.

“We have to be out to gorilla in less than half an hour,” Yuta says, narrowing his eyes. “This better be fast.”

“Come on,” Mox says, and it would be a whine if Jon Moxley were a whiner, “I let you two have the room last week when you had your whatever it was.”

Claudio looks away while Yuta just gets this self-satisfied little grin that Mox would really not like more details on. “He’s got a point, Yoots.” He stands, patting Yuta on the shoulder. “Off we go.���

“Catering might have that roasted sweet potato again,” Yuta says thoughtfully, taking Claudio’s hand as they walk out the door. It’s like Mox isn’t even here, like they’re in their own world.

The door closes, and Mox sends the text. ur good

You text like my high schoolers.

weird thing to say

There’s no response except a knock on the door a couple minutes later. Mox bounces a little, shakes out the tension in his spine and shoulders that has spread and grown. “Come in.”

Adam walks in, and it’s strange to see a man so good at beating people into the ground try to make himself seem small. He peeks his head around with a cautious smile. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Mox feels itchy. “I, uh. Come in.”

Adam steps all the way in, looking around the room like he’s expecting something to jump out. Or something.

“They’re gone,” Mox says. “It’s just us.”

Adam relaxes. “I, uh. I was kinda worried you’d set this up to jump me or something. Retaliation for the Death Match.”

Mox frowns. “The fuck would I do that for?”

“I don’t know,” and it’s punctuated with a shrug. “Why’d we have phone sex the other night? I got lots of questions.”

“Jumping right into it,” Mox says. The weight presses firmly, insistent. “Um. What’d ya think of it?”

“The phone sex?” Adam presses his lips together, but Mox can see the faint blush creep its way across his cheeks. “It was good.”

“Cool,” Mox says. He could kick himself. “Um. I mean. Good. Glad to hear it.” He would laugh at himself if he were watching this. “I, uh. Do you – ”

“What are we doing?” Adam blurts out. He looks mildly horrified at the words coming from his mouth. But then he doubles down. “Seriously. We nearly kill each other, like, three times. I go after you with barbed wire more times than I’ve dealt with it on my farm, you make my friend bleed, I make you bleed. And then we make out in a janitor’s closet and fuck over the phone?” He’s a bit hysterical, that lovely wildness in his eyes again. “What the fuck are we doing?”

Against what could be considered rational judgement, Mox takes a step toward Adam. “I don’t know.”

Adam steps toward him. “What,” he says, eyes flickering to Mox’s lips, back up to his eyes, “are we doing?”

Mox leans in, lips against Adam’s. “I don’t fuckin’ know.” He waits. He waits for Adam to press. It’s agony. It’s ages. It’s anticipation.

Mox practically falls into it when Adam, finally, breaks that final barrier, and kisses him so sweetly he could be back in high school again. His hands come up to cradle the same jaw he’d rattled to kingdom come months before, gentle this time. The hand Adam had weeks before used to crush his forehead with barbed wire rests on the back of his neck. The weight on Mox’s shoulders swirls around them, builds somewhere in his heart, and settles there, laying its claim on Mox’s soul.

Adam makes the softest little sigh in the back of his mouth, something Mox almost more tastes than hears, and Mox hauls him in closer, desperate to feel Adam’s warmth surround him.

The world melts away for a while, lost in the Adam of the moment, until there’s a strange sound poking at his ears. It takes longer than it should for him to realize it’s his cell phone.

“You should,” Adam takes a shaky breath, “you should get that.”

Mox nods, gets his phone from his pocket. “Yeah, right. Phone.” He stills has to shake his head a little bit. “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” Yuta hisses. “We’re in gorilla and you, shockingly, are not.”

Mox checks his phone. It’s been twenty minutes. “Holy shit. Be there in two.” He drops the phone. “I, uh.”

“Right!” Adam says. “Yeah. We can – we can figure this out later.”

Mox darts toward the door, and then, in a fit of 90s movie ridden panic, turns around, presses a quick, rough kiss to Adam’s lips, and goes back. “I will see you tonight,” he says, and it sounds a little too much like a threat.

Adam smiles, though. “Yeah. Tonight.”

He forgets everything during the match with Claudio and Yuta. Adam doesn’t come out, though. Mox isn’t able to figure out why.

He doesn’t go after Uno, and he doesn’t try to interfere. Something about it feels unfair, without Adam out here to come after him about it. Either way, he doesn’t have to get in the way – his boys win easily, and he has other things to worry about.

He mildly panics through the rest of the tapings, desperate to get back to Adam, and he is –

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters. “I have a crush on the fuckin’ Cowboy.”

~

Adam texts him at 11:45pm, far after Rampage is done taping, when Mox has done almost a hundred crunches and almost as many burpees to get this stress off his back.

Leaving the venue. Okay if I stop by?

yah rm num 234

Literally you text like a sixteen year old.

fuck off. Mox actually laughs at a phone screen, and he is not exactly pleased with the way that he really is acting a bit like a sixteen year old.

Then he suddenly realizes he’s drenched in sweat and probably smells bad. He’s never given a shit what any of the other wrestlers thought of him. And here he is, diving into the shower and scrubbing himself clean with hotel soap.

He’s only managed to get a pair of sweatpants on when the door rings, and swings it open to see a surprisingly put together Adam Page.

“I’m underdressed,” Mox says. He attempted to make it sound cool. He fails.

“Oh.” Adam frowns, looks down at himself. “Oh, I just – I wanted to – ” He cuts himself off, and there’s that blush again.

“No, you look good,” Mox says, and why is this freaking him out? “Come in.” He steps aside, and Adam, with that giant wallet directing all attention to the curve of his ass, steps into his hotel room. The anticipation settles across Mox’s body again. He desperately wants.

Adam looks at him. “What’s going on with us?” he asks, and his eyes are full of a familiar desperation. “What is this?”

Mox takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand across his head. “Look, I don’t fuckin’ know, okay?” He sits on the bed. “All – all I know is that hearing you come over the phone has really gotten in my head.”

Adam blinks. “Oh.”

Mox grins up again. “You expect something other than that?”

Adam pushes around the trashcan with the toe of his boot. “I don’t know,” he says. “I kind of thought this may have been a trick you’re playing or something. Or at least you’d be more…” He trails off. “Evasive, I guess.”

“Evasive’s for people who got time,” Mox says, rolling his neck, desperate to get some of the stress out of his shoulders. “All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you and I keep feeling wrong unless you’re around me. So.” He looks up at Adam, stretches his arms over his head while he keeps looking directly in those blue-green eyes. “Up to you Cowboy.”

“Adam.”

Mox blinks. “What?”

“You might,” Adam steps closer. With a touch so gentle it’s almost funny, he picks up Mox’s left hand an looks a the tattoo. “You might want to remember to use my name if we’re gonna do this.” He keeps his eyes locked on Mox’s as he presses his lips, ever so gently, to the top line of the tattoo. It’s sensitive, but it’s mostly healed, so nothing hurts. “Remember that my name,” he kisses that top line again, “goes right here.”

When he lowers Mox’s hand, he closes the last bit of space, and presses his lips to Mox’s. The moment, the world, feels settled around him, like he’s finally gotten to a place in the universe where everything isn’t spinning quite so much. He pulls Adam down on top of him, unable to pretend like this isn’t everything he’s been imagining for weeks, and the weight on top of him feels like falling into heaven.

Adam braces himself on his elbows, curls falling into his face, and Mox feels the urge to reach up and brush them away. Adam grins, something shy, none of the bite behind it that Mox is used to seeing.

“How did we end up here?” Adam asks, dropping his head to press gentle, so gentle, kisses down the neck of Mox’s jaw. “I mean, just last Sunday I was trying to kill you.”

“Yeah, but you never really wanted to kill me,” Mox says, tilting his head to give Adam better access. “You can go harder, if you want.”

“Not yet,” Adam murmurs against his skin. “I just – I want to,” and he pulls back, eyes on Mox’s again. It feels almost too intense, almost too much to hold. “I want to be here. With you.” He frowns, like the words aren’t where they’re supposed to be. “I want this to be here. Not the ring.”

It takes a second, but Mox gets it. God, does he get it. Maybe, in this moment, he and Adam can just be two guys who have complicated emotions, finally doing something about it. Maybe, right now, it doesn’t have to be about violence.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling a strange tightness in his throat. “Yeah. Just us.” He sits up enough to catch Adam’s lips again, and the desperation there tastes sweeter than honey, something just for him that’s been waiting for him to claim it. He slides a hand into Adam’s hair, careful not to get too rough, just enough to angle Adam’s head where he wants him. His mouth slowly slides against Adam’s, and he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. Adam’s careful, gentle, and so sweet it hurts.

Mox’s hands find themselves at the hem of his shirt. “Can I…?” he looks for permission in Adam’s eyes.

“Please,” Adam says, soft. The desperation, though, has settled itself into his eyes, and Mox knows. He knows.

He slides his hands up the warm skin under the tee shirt, watching Adam’s eyes flutter closed as he feels the muscles in his stomach tense under his touch. He pushes the shirt up and Adam wiggles a little to get it all the way over his head. He looks a bit like some long forgotten Greek god, one who did good but didn’t hurt enough people to be remembered. Mox wants to be the one to remember him.

They fall against each other and the bed, lips roving and hands following suit. Mox has never touched Adam like this, never knew the way he could sigh at Mox’s fingertips, the way his mouth would open, just a little, every time Mox pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

Adam’s fingertips dance along the hemline of Mox’s sweatpants, almost anxious in the way they stray from the one motion Mox wants him to make.

“You can get me naked,” Mox says, wishing he had the wherewithal to sound a little more suave, “we can, uh.” He stops, and prays briefly for the sweet release of Adam taking the hint without him having to speak any further.

“Yeah,” Adam breathes, flush high on his cheeks. “Yeah, okay.” He finally slides his fingers under the waistband and pulls. Mox feels a rush of cold air over his body, and would feel embarrassed about how hard he already is, except Adam’s wrapped a hand around him and he’s not able to have a single though, let alone a feeling as mundane as embarrassment.

Mox drops his head back on the bed, groaning. “Yeah, baby,” he mumbles, before he realizes what he’s saying.

“Want you to – oh my god.” Adam’s voice is hardly clearer than Mox’s, a little desperate, a little demanding. “Fuck me. Please?”

Mox’s eyes fly open, meeting eager wanting in Adam’s. “Cowboy, you don’t have to ask twice.” He hauls Adam to him, and they collide a little harder than they have outside of the ring. Mox goes for Adam’s jeans, fumbling before he manages to take care of the button and the zipper, while Adam laughs.

“What’s so funny about my hand in your pants?” Mox asks, shoving jeans down Adam’s hips.

“You’re awful at remembering to call me Adam,” he says, kicking the jeans off and pulling the boxers down himself. Mox has to remind himself to listen to words and not just focus on seeing. There’s a lot to see. “Hold on.”

To Mox’s absolute misery, Adam steps off the bed to grab his jeans. “Was hoping I wouldn’t have to use this, but I guess you need more of a reminder.” He pulls out a sharpie, grabs Mox’s hand, and pulls it toward him. “Now,” he says, writing rapidly across Mox’s skin, careful to avoid the inked lines, “you can’t forget my name.”

Adam it says, at the top of the notebook paper, on his wrist. It feels like he’s been claimed. It feels like he’s Adam’s.

“Get your ass over here,” Mox practically growls, and Adam steps into him without an moment’s hesitation. They fall over each other, warm bodies melting together in heat and desire, until Adam’s hands are fumbling for the bedside table, and Mox gets the hint.

“Jesus, you’re pushy,” he laughs, slapping Adam’s hand away and pulling open the drawer. “You, uh.” He holds up a condom. “This – ”

“Clean bill of health on my part,” Adam says, eyes hungry. “You?”

“All good with me,” Mox says. “So, um. Do you need a…?”

“Not unless you want to.” Adam’s grin gets a little dirty. “I mean,” he leans in, teeth nipping at Mox’s earlobe, “unless you don’t want to come in me.”

Mox’s laugh is, unfortunately, high pitched. “God, I definitely do.”

“Cool.”

Mox drops the condom back into the drawer and grabs the lube, flicking open the cap. The next few moments are a whirlwind, Adam’s lips on his with a frantic neediness that can’t be satisfied without a little bit of focus.

“Baby,” he murmurs, pulling his head away, “I can’t bury my dick in you unless I open you up first.”

Adam laughs. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, so.” Mox gestures to the bed. “Lay down, sweetheart, and let me take care of you.”

Adam nods, some of the excess energy rolling off of him in waves, but Mox coaxes his thighs open. And, god, does Adam open so beautifully for him. Pushing down on his finger like he can’t get enough of it, like he’s been craving this feeling and it’ll never be enough.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Mox finds himself murmuring, pressing kisses across Adam’s chest, careful to catch a nipple in his teeth every so often. “Adam, so good.”

“Now you remember my damned name,” Adam laughs, but it breaks off into a cry as Mox slides a second finger in next to the first. “Come on. Want you.”

“Not yet, babe,” Mox says, pressing a kiss to the inside of Adam’s thigh. “So fuckin’ impatient.”

Adam laughs again, and it’s beautiful, and it’s all Mox wanted, and he has the sudden realization that he’s in fucking love with Hangman Adam Page.

He decides to pocket that for later, and gently adds a third finger, watching as Adam squirms and rolls against his fingers.

“You ready?”

“Been ready, goddamnit,” Adam says, but there’s no bite to it. “Come on. I want you.”

“You want – how do you want to be?” Mox is so far gone, he can’t imagine this without being able to see Adam’s face. Without this being stupid and romantic and meaningful.

“Like this,” Adam says, and, with the way he wraps a leg around the back of Mox’s thigh and pulls him in, Mox isn’t going to argue.

It’s like holding back a bullet with the way Mox gently pushes in. All he wants to do is sink into the beautiful, slick, heat of Adam, find himself buried there for the rest of his life, but he’s going slow. So fucking slow. Slow enough that Adam nudges at him with his heel, demanding without a single word.

“Working on it,” he says. He presses his tongue through his lips, focused on being careful, on being gentle. On not causing any further harm to the man he accidentally loves.

When he’s buried deep, when Adam’s taken the whole of him and his heart, he freezes, head spinning.

“That’s – oh, god,” Adam whimpers. His arms reach up, grab at Mox’s biceps with less than half of the power Mox knows he holds in them.

“You okay?” Mox asks, barely under his own control.

“I will be if you start moving.” Adam’s voice is strained, controlled. “Please, come on.”

And, well. Apparently, Mox’s undoing is hearing Adam Page ask for anything nicely.

The moments feel like a dream, the way it feels to be in sync with someone in the ring, but more precious, closer to his heart than to his fists. Adam makes gorgeous little noises, combinations of Mox’s name and please and wordless vowels that Mox wants to memorize and paint on a canvas.

To be fair, though, Mox is vaguely aware that he’s not exactly got it under control, either. He doesn’t say the L word, doesn’t get to that level of out of his mind, but Adam’s name lingers on his tongue alongside praise and please and something a little like love that he’s not willing to let fall into the air.

Adam flips them at one point, and the way he rides Mox is a thing of dreams. Mox is hardly able to do much more than grab at Adam’s hips and hold on. Adam leans down and kisses him, a new little angle, and Mox thinks he might be in heaven.

But Mox is an idiot, heaven or not, and he can’t resist saying, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

“That’s – oh, god – that’s a little opposite of now,” Adam says, palms braced on Mox’s chest. “But I appreciate the attempt.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mox laughs, but they both do, and it’s great.

It shows in Adam’s eyes, when he’s close, the way they roll back a little, the way they get the same kind of wild they do in the ring, and Mox reaches between them to curl his hands around Adam’s cock. Mox turns them over again, getting a better angle when he can anchor himself on his knees. He presses his forehead to Adam’s, and it feels like this is how they’re meant to be. Connected in more than one place.

Only a few strokes and Adam’s coming between them, Mox’s name caught on the edges of his teeth. The way he tenses, flexes, releases, is the physical form of poetry. Mox manages a few more thrusts before he’s coming too, deep inside Adam with his hands on Adam’s hips, holding him to him. Their breathing practically echoes around the hotel room, and Adam, slowly, moves his way down next to Mox.

There’s tension in the air, like one or both of them is hesitating to say something. Mox is willing to bet it’s both of them.

“You okay?” Mox asks. He chances resting his hand on Adam’s bicep. He doesn’t want him to be panicking. He doesn’t want to be wrong about all of this.

“I just,” Adam says, and Mox feels his entire body tense in anticipation of whatever happens next, “I didn’t expect for – for that to mean something.” He turns to Mox, and there’s the barest hint of wetness in his eyes. “Fuck.”

Mox smiles at him, something he hopes gives comfort, gives meaning, gives Adam the knowledge that he feels the same sort of something. “Me either,” he says, gently running his fingers up and down Adam’s arm. “But it did.”

Adam buries his face into Mox’ chest, curls fanning out across Mox’s skin. Mox pulls him in close, and their arms tangle together until their fingers find their place side by side. Adam makes this tiny little hum, something comfortable, and Mox pulls him in, a kiss to his forehead. “I know I’ve said it, like, fifty times,” Adam says, voice muffled by Mox’s chest, “but how the fuck did we get here.”

“Maybe it’s inevitable, when you fight the way we do,” Mox says, fingers brushing through Adam’s hair. He’s beginning to think about a future, in the nebulous way he always does after sex. A dream of this over and over again, where they share a home, maybe a name. Maybe a kid or two. “Maybe we were always meant to fall in –” He stops himself. “In – in bed.”

Adam props himself up on an elbow, eyes boring into Mox’s. “Maybe we were,” he says, leaning in for a gentle kiss. “And – and maybe it’s more than just that?”

It’s an opening, isn’t it. “It is to me.” Mox holds his breath.

And Adam sighs, looking like whatever weight had been curled around his shoulders and spine has finally released its grasp. “Me too,” he nearly whispers, eyes a little wet again.

“We boyfriends now?” Mox jokes, reaching up to move a frizzed-out curl away from Adam’s eyes. “Do I get to tell people we’re going steady?”

“We could go with ‘partner,’” Adam says, with a grin. “Since you like the cowboy angle so much.”

“I like the you angle of it,” Mox corrects.

They laugh about it, for just a moment. Adam sighs again. “We can workshop it.”

“Yeah,” Mox says, pulling Adam down for another kiss. Hopefully one of a million more. “We can.”

[charisreads]

ALL THE BOOKS I READ IN 2022

This year I was mostly focused on my career (and I fell in loveeee) so I’ve not had much time for reading. Nonetheless, here are the books I managed to get through. (I'll do another post on the books I bought but haven't finished!)

This has been a bad reading year for me, so I was surprised to see that I read as many as I did. I think the reason for this is that now I have multiple ways to read eg. My kindle, the kindle app on my phone, audible, and hard copies. I bought myself a Kindle last year for Christmas, worried that I wouldn’t ever pick it up, but I use it all the time! (Hasn’t curbed my love for physical books though.)

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

I highly doubt Tumblr needs to be told how great this book is. I loved every second, I cried, I’ll buy whatever the author releases next.

Normal People ✨fastest read!✨

I really needed an easy read after stopping and starting so many books and I just swam right through this one. I finished it. I sulked. I watched the BBC series. I find it hard to recommend because it’s not satisfying but it’s real.

They Both Die At The End

I read the entirety of this book commuting. To and from London, up north and back to Manchester. It was great to dip in and out of. It made time pass by quickly. I cried like a bitch. Highly recommend.

Ark

It’s a short story but a lovely one. I was looking for more Veronica Roth books like a hungry dog, this satisfied the itch.

Press Reset

This was work related. It’s a great insight into the video game industry, probably not interesting if you’re not in this field.

Chess ✨new all-time favourite book✨

London Euston station bookshop staff I owe you so much!! I was looking for a short read for my long journey back to Manchester. I spotted this short book with a handwritten recommendation. It surprised me. Stefan Zweig is an author I’ve never heard of before. With a book name like “Chess” I expected a strategic story. To me it is colourful, people focused and wonderful. I love how he clearly writes the motivations of characters and how the story seems fantastical but real. I sent my writer friend 7 voice notes about it then bought her a copy of it for her birthday.

Primal Branding

Another work one. Marketing related, interesting case studies, goes on a bit.

Fatal Attraction 😶least favourite😶

My auntie gave me a bunch of books a while back and this thriller caught my eye. Sadly, it had potential to follow through but didn’t.

Whoever Fights Monsters

Non-fiction! This book was written by the man who invented the term serial killer. He writes about many cases he helped solve and serial killers he interviewed. It's very interesting, not just the parts about serial killers but his determination. He's worked in some very difficult and slow-moving agencies, yet got through the bureaucracy to get this work done.

The Thursday Murder Club

I really wanted to like it. I really, really, really did. But I didn’t. I couldn’t get attached to the characters and it felt like it was aimed at an older audience that wanted to be seen, which is lovely! But not meant for me.

Poirot’s Finest Cases

Audiobook. Top lad that Poirot.

Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging

Work related read. I wrote a blog post about it on my work website here. https://www.charisreid.co.uk/blog/charisreidstribe

Project Hail Mary ✨recommend the most✨

A friend recommended me this and I loved it. It’s only available on audible right now but I really recommend it. It’s fun, heartwarming and I love how the problems the character faces are all science-based. Really rad. 10/10.

(I also reread the Hunger Games trilogy bc it’s my comfort series, so let’s include that)

✨16 total books finished in 2022✨

I'll do another post about aims for next year and what I'll be starting to read in January!

[steppingstonesuniverseguide]

One More Step Out of the Pit: Chapter 3/26

Summary: It had been Tommy and Tubbo for practically forever. They clawed their way out of hell together. They discovered their superpowers together. They started working for the Superhero Guild together before even coming of age. Tommy probably owed Tubbo his life ten times over. So, when the three supervillains he'd been assigned to bring in managed to take Tubbo hostage, well, there was really only one thing to do.

He knew, of course, he was signing himself up for torture and death by offering that trade, but that was okay.

It'd have to be okay.

AO3 Link (See AO3 for Warnings.)

(This story is finished and has been posted on AO3 for a while, but I'm posting it on Tumblr so it's somewhere else too (considering the day AO3 was down a bit ago). The author notes will all be kept as well. If you are following the blog and don't want to see these posts, block the tag #backlog.)

Author Note: There is some sword/knife violence in this one.

“Are these tomatoes?!” An excited scream was what woke Tommy up. It was not even two hours after he’d fallen asleep and part of him wanted to be pissed about being woken up when he was so exhausted. The other part of him smiled into his pillow.

“Cut them open,” Tommy called back.

He listened to the rustling coming from the kitchen area as Tubbo rushed to do as he said. “Seeds?” Tubbo asked after a moment, his voice quieter and closer now like what he was saying was a secret. It was a secret. Tommy peeled his face off of the pillow to look up at the boy in their bedroom doorway. “Where on Earth did you find these?”

“I stumbled on a hidden community garden on the way back from work last night,” Tommy explained.

He watched the war on Tubbo’s face as he bit his lip. His hands were covered in tomato juice from where he’d picked a few seeds out of the vegetable. He was cradling them between his palms now. “These are very illegal to have,” he said. Yet, despite his half-hearted protest, the seeds had already started to sprout in his hands. As Tommy watched, a baby stem curled up his finger, a pair of leaves opening and sitting at the tip of his thumb.

“You should find some dirt for them,” Tommy suggested softly.

“Right,” Tubbo agreed. “Dirt, water… and sun somehow in a place no one can see. Or maybe a grow light in the bathroom? I’ll figure something out.”

Tommy nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open. Tubbo seemed to notice. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just excited.”

“I know Tubs,” Tommy yawned.

“You got back kinda late last night, huh?”

“Had a run in with the SBI,” he said.

“Are you hurt?” Tubbo asked, concerned.

Tommy shook his head. “They didn’t even manage to get a finger on me,” he assured proudly, but then deflated a bit. “But, uh, Dream wasn’t too happy that I didn’t arrest them. I got whatever they were trying to steal, but that wasn’t enough for him. So… no paycheck.”

Tubbo frowned. “What were you supposed to do?” he asked. “1v3 the SBI of all people?”

“Apparently.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” Tommy reminded.

“I hate that you fight them,” Tubbo said, quietly. “The Blade killed 4 level 6 heroes with a flashlight and a set of car keys two years ago and that’s with him being taken unaware and alone.”

He’d also held a sword to Tommy’s neck once. It had been just them alone in an alleyway. He’d lowered it a moment later and slipped away into darkness without a word. Tubbo didn’t know that though.

“Eh, Philza’s scarier and Whippoorwill’s more creatively bloodthirsty.”

“They shouldn’t send you after any of them.”

“They know I’m a big man!” He paused at the look on Tubbo’s face. “I’ll be fine,” he promised.

“I just worry…”

“Don’t,” Tommy said. “I’m wily. Like the coyote… wait, no. I’m the Road Runner! The Road Runner wins those things, right? Never gets caught, right?” He’d never really had an opportunity to watch cartoons. He’d just absorbed knowledge from other people talking about them. “That’s me! Meep meep motherfucker.”

Tubbo cracked a half smile. “Well,” he said. “No paycheck, but we do have veggies and veggies that will regrow if we’re careful to hide them. Well, the tomatoes are fruit, but still.”

“Not a fruit,” Tommy enlightened him.

“I… they are?”

“No,” Tommy said solemnly. “I reject that reality.”

Tubbo stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. “Go back to sleep Tommy. I’ve got to get ready for work anyway. I’ll make you something for breakfast and leave it in the fridge.”

“Mmm, thanks.”

“See you at work,” Tubbo said, closing the door behind him. He and Tubbo’s work schedules just barely overlapped. He worked 4am-2pm and Tommy worked Noon-10pm with one day off a week. They’d somehow managed to scam having the same days off this month thanks to Puffy, which was nice. Otherwise, they’d barely see each other except when they were both asleep.

…

Thinking of sleep...

Tommy woke to the sound of an alarm on his phone at 8am. He barely resisted the urge to throw it out the window. The only thing that stopped him was that it was expensive company property, and he did not need to have that added to his bills.

Groaning, he pulled himself out of bed and into the small bathroom to take a shower. He hadn’t gotten the opportunity to wash the gross off himself last night. He winced in sympathy for Tubbo as his bedmate.

A few minutes later, he was padding into the kitchen. He glanced in the fridge to see a Tupperware container labeled ‘Breakfast’ in Tubbo’s horrible handwriting. Popping open the lid revealed scrambled eggs with tomatoes mixed in, and after making some toast, Tommy sat down on the recliner to eat. (It’s fine. It was already stained to hell when the dragged it up here from the trash, so it wouldn’t matter if he spilled.) There was a sticky note on the arm that didn’t have a bite taken out of it. ‘Buy melk and bread today, pls.-Tub’ it read.

Tommy grabbed the discarded pen next to it and wrote ‘No.-Tom’ with a smile on his face. It looked like he was going to the store before his shift today. He glanced at the time on his phone. Ugh. He should probably get moving if he wanted to get to the shop and back before needing to leave for his shift.

Reluctantly, he put his dishes in the sink and went to the bedroom to change. He pulled Tubbo’s green hoodie over his t-shirt for warmth since it wasn’t like the boy was using it right now, and it was the warmest piece of civilian clothing they had. He counted out how much money he had in his wallet, winced, and dug his hand into their ‘saving’s account’ (and old pickle jar).

Figuring he had enough cash on him, he left the apartment. His and Tubbo’s apartment was on the 2nd floor of the building. It was the lowest priced housing they could find within walking distance of the Hero Guild’s HQ. They’d had the option of living at the much nicer apartments the Hero Guild provided, but they’d quickly learned those came with a cost much steeper than the one they paid for their dirty little two room apartment. They’d bolted as soon as they’d realized the apartments came pre-outfitted with cameras. They weren’t dumb.

They were lucky, really, that they were able to afford this place even with its lack of an elevator and staircase so rickety that Tommy was worried he’d need to use his powers to survive them one of these days.

It wasn’t that the Hero Guild didn’t pay well, it was that it didn’t pay people like Tubbo and Tommy well. Your salary wasn’t based on what you did or who you fought. It was calculated based on two things: years of experience and rank. He and Tubbo each had a bit more than one year of experience. Tubbo had rank 1. Tommy had rank 1.5 even though he’d regularly been doing rank 5, maybe even rank 6 work lately, but people under 18 weren’t allowed anything above rank 1.5.

Then, on top of that, they were both hit with what was referred to as the “teenager tax.” Minors weren’t really allowed to work for the Superhero Guild, at least not on their own. They needed an adult sponsor (which was actually kind of the opposite of a sponsor because part of Tommy and Tubbo’s paycheck was siphoned off to them in payment for being mentors.)

Still, it was better than how Tommy and Tubbo had been surviving on the streets ever since Tubbo was tossed out of his house. They were, at the end of the day, able to pool their resources to pay rent and eat every month no matter how much of a stretch it ended up being sometimes.

Plus, they wouldn’t be 16 forever. With Dream as his sponsor, three years of experience, and the work he’d already been doing for the Guild, he was positioned perfectly to climb the ranks quickly when he shucked the shackles of childhood. He’d be making the biiig money then. Tubbo would probably struggle a bit more since his power was not really a combative one, but Tommy was sure he’d also get promoted eventually.

Who knew, if Tommy managed to be good enough and to kept Dream’s favor, maybe Tubbo could even quit and get a gardener’s license or something. That would be nice. He’d definitely be happier then. Tubbo with a garden of his own. Now that’d be a sight to see.

The thought put a smile on his face as he entered the small grocery store a couple of minutes later. The woman manning the till gave him a suspicious look as he entered, probably because he was an obviously poor teenager with no parents to be seen. Tommy half wished he was allowed to flaunt his superhero identity so people would stop glowering at him like he was going to steal shit whenever he went anywhere. Of course, if he did that, then people like Whippoorwill with his desire to slowly peel Tommy’s flesh off his bones to make into soup (Yes, it did sound gross. Yes, Whippoorwill really had said that. And just because Tommy sprayed mace into his mouth one time! Dude was mental.) would be able to track him down at home. That would put Tubbo at risk.

As it was, he had to bear the lady’s unpleasant expression as he scanned the aisles.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a nasty voice after he stood there for a few seconds too long apparently.

Tommy rolled his eyes and pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket to show to her. “Buying bread.”

“Aisle 2,” she said, still sounding like a fucking asshole, but not quite like she was going to push the panic button behind the counter to summon a hero to arrest him.

Ignoring the eyes that remained on him, he wandered over to peer at the expiration dates on the bread. He was trying to decide which option was better: bread that was a bit more expensive but would last longer or bread that was cheaper and expired in a few days when he heard the sound of metal scrapping on metal.

Tommy’s head jerked up to see some guy with a giant sword at the front counter. Now, Tommy could immediately tell he didn’t quite know what he was doing with a sword, and it was much too big for his lack of muscles, but still, anyone could be dangerous with a giant sharp thing in their hands.

Ugh. Come on. He wasn’t on duty. He didn’t even have his costume for crying out loud.

“Man, do you really have to right now?” Tommy asked him as he rounded the corner, irritated. It probably… wasn’t the wisest thing to say, but it did get his attention away from the nasty lady by the register that he was holding at sword point. Tommy grimaced when he realized she was too far away from the panic button to hit it.

“You have a problem, kid?” the sword wielder asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, taking a nonchalant step closer. The guy let him, seeming not to register him as a threat in the slightest in the too tight green sweater with a daisy on it and ripped jeans. “Last night really fucking sucked for me. You couldn’t have done this, I don’t know, in 20 minutes?”

“Believe it or not I’m not on your schedule,” he said with a curled lip. The sword had dropped just a bit, too heavy for him especially when his attention was split. “Now shut up, kid.”

He took his eyes off of Tommy for a moment to return to his crimeing and Tommy jerked forward, grabbing his wrist and twisting. The sword clattered to the floor and the nasty checkout lady took her chance to dive for the panic button.

The man stared at him in shock for a moment as Tommy kicked away the sword, but he quickly recovered, fury on his face. He lunged forward suddenly taking Tommy unaware as he’d been focused on making sure the sword was far enough away. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the only sharp thing on him. Tommy gasped even as he punched the guy in the face sending him sprawling.

A moment later, a superhero Tommy vaguely recognized, the Boomerang or something, crashed though the door and surveyed the scene. The nasty lady pointed at the man Tommy had just punched and who was getting to his feet with a bloodied knife. Boomerang was on him in a second.

Tommy slowly looked down at his bleeding side, feeling a bit dizzy.

“A-are you okay kid?” the woman at the register asked. She suddenly seemed to be trying to be a whole lot nicer to Tommy.

Tommy breathed slowly, strangely calm. Why, oh why, did he have to get stabbed off duty? He didn’t have the money to deal with this sort of crap. At least it didn’t seem too bad… Tommy thought. “Does the store have medical supplies, perchance?” he asked as Boomerang stopped beating the sword man’s face in and started to put him in handcuffs.

“Shouldn’t you… go to the hospital?” she asked.

“Nah, he’s as bad with a knife as he was with the sword,” Tommy said. “‘Tis just a flesh wound.” Probably. He hoped.

She looked at him for a long moment. “I…” she said and honestly the concern pinching at her brow was just annoying. Tommy almost liked her better when she was being a bitch. “Yeah, we should have some stuff. Let me… Let me go look for you.”

Tommy nodded at her. “Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna…” He slowly sunk down onto his knees. “I think I’m going to sit here for a minute ‘till the shock wears off.”

Author Note: He's fine. It's just a light stabbing. As long as he doesn't do anything strenuous or get shoved around at all, he should be a-okay.

[melscripts]

My first post on Tumblr’s really gonna be about Haikyū, huh.

Alright, as someone whose only watched the anime (am currently in the process of purchasing the manga and finishing the series, don’t come for me being a billion years late on this one), I have to say the character growth in this series is insane. I am constantly in awe of shows that are able to make you care about each of the characters, even if they aren’t mains, and which consistently keep their character’s growth in the reader’s mind eye throughout the entirety of the manga/show. Now, that being said, I have only watch the anime— I’ll be back with more to say after the manga. Here’s a quick breakdown of each of the first year lads on Karauno’s arcs through out the show:

Shoyo Hinata: The naturally talented underdog. Hinata in season one works to be able to spike on his own, despite his lack of technique and height. As season two rolls around, Hinata begins yearning to “fly” on his own. He begins trying to hit spikes with his eyes open—he seems out training to get better. In season three, he implements the open eyed spike and combines it with other spiking strategies. In season four, Hinata crashes a personal training camp by a rival coach, and focuses on receiving, after learning that he will need to do more than just spike to fight on his own and continue to stay on the court…

Tobio Kageyama: The Melting Control Tower. Kageyama needs to learn to have empathy for his teammates. In pretty much every season that’s been made so far, Kageyama’s journey has involved working through his control issues, as well as the trauma he endured when he was abandoned on the court in middle school for being too selfish. His arc always amazes me just because I feel the growth is slow, and subtle, much like it would be in real life.

Kei Tsukishima: Beanpole with undiagnosed depression. Tsuki is one of my favorite characters, and his arc is very prevalent in season two, where he must get out of his own head in order to improve as a middle blocker. Everytime I watch Tsuki show an ounce of passion for the game, the hand stands up on my arms. The writers do such an incredible job of making when Tsuki cares impactful, and what he cares about matter. In season three, Tsuki tapes his fingers in order to keep blocking during the Shiritoruzawa game. I think this is a pivotal moment for his character, alongside when he decides to train in season two, and when he jumps to spike during the Inaziki game in season four. Tsuki, next to Shoyo, are in my opinion the two most riveting arcs in the show.

Tadashi Yamaguchi: Little guy with undiagnosed anxiety disorder. Tadashi’s arc is the one I wish was focused on a little bit more in season four- after fearing falling behind the other first years, Tadashi seeks to sharpen his serving skills to become the teams pinch server and to earn some playing time on the court. Though the least followed throughout the anime, tadashi’s story is fleshed out just enough for us to REALLY care about this lad when he’s up to serve.

These breakdowns are purely to serve as storytelling reference for myself. It’s honestly not as detailed as it could be, I’ll update this probably after another rewatch, but essentially, I think Haikyū is made so brilliant not only because of it’s epic characters, but because of it’s pacing of those characters arcs.

…Ill probably do another post about other characters soon. That’s all for now :,)

[3dogbones]

YEAH I HEARD ABOUT JJK ENDING IN 3 WEEKS, THAT IS TRULY CRAZY. WHEN I FINISH THE SERIES MANGA YOU BET I AM COMING BACK TO YOUR ASKBOX TO YAP ABOUT IT.

AND YEEAAAAHHHH THE LAWYERS NAME IS HIGURAMI!!! AND APPARENTLY SOME OF HIS FIGHT HAS ALREADY BEEN ANIMATED??? Jjk fandom is craaazzzzyyyy AND SO TALENTED, half of them are probably on the run from Mappa, which is trying to get the to work for them and never see their families again.

I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE MAKI BEAT UP THAT UGLY WORM TURNED SKELETON COCOON POKÉMON LOOKING THING. I think that form suits his personality better anyways… I hated him soooo much HE IS THE WORST AND I WONDER IF THAT FIGHT HAS GOTTEN ANIMATED YET???

Your recommendations are W goated, and SURE I’LL WATCH JOJO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURE. why not I LITERALLY HAVE NOTHING TO LOOSE!!! 🤪🤪🤪😭😭😭

The utc Games definitely look good and I have loved all of the cover art you;ve been doing, I might have to play some sometime after i finish bsd and demon slayer heheheh

Oh don’t worry about being dead on tumblr, AND THAT THING WITH THE NOTIFS SOUNDS LIKE A PAIN WHY WOULD IT DO THAT??? WHAT’S THE POINT OF EVEN NOTIFYING YOU ABOUT IT IF IT WON’T TAKE YOU TO THE POST AUTOMATICALLY???

And later you better give me more of your dooddddlleeeesssss /nf/silly. I am eating up the art raaaaaaahhh Even though it does look like that one sans is going “ERM ACTUALLY”

that last question is really difficult to respond to btw… breaking my mind… this is… a minor inconvenience… you know what that means…

HALLO!!! Im Reading the jjk manga right now so just checking in because it has invaded my brain and rraaaaaaaah jjk jjk jjk… 😭 I BLAME U FOR THIS (I love jjk)

First of all, I LOVE THAT LAWYER SORCERER, he seems genuinely cool and he just reminds me of ace attorney tbh, Edgeworth if he was a jjk character FOR REAL

And this panel is also SO CUTE ONG.. YOU WERE RIGHT YES I AGREE WITH THE FACT THAT CHOSO IS THE BEST. Yuji deserves his brothers for realsies, THEY ARE BOTH AWESOME. And I keep seeing stuff saying how Todo VS Choso would go down, but I kinda think Todo would respect Choso (and ask for his workout routine MAHAHAH)

I’m even starting to get MY FRIENDS to watch it. DeterminedFanartist, aka my pookie 4evahs, IS ALSO WATCHING IT RIGHT NOW!!! My irl bruh called Choso “Cheese” and they ALL SIMP OVER GOJO. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY IRLS SIMP OVER GOJO IT IS CRAAZZZYY…

Maki’s power up WAS DESERVED and oh mah lord… I’m on chapter 202 AND KENJAKU WAS MANIPULATING MAH AMERICAN GOVERNMENT IS KENJAKU 2024 REAL?!?!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩 He’d be my president 🫡🫡🫡🇺🇸🇺🇸🏈🏈🏈🌎🌎🔫🔫🔫💪💪💪

About to read chapter 203 and… no… wtf like IT IS ALREADY STARTING OFF LIKE THIS. A “you will die” IN ANY MANGA THAT ISN’T STATED TO THE MAIN CHARACTER IS NOT GOOD NEWS…

Praying… praying right now I know EVERYONE is dying in this series but pllleaaseee GEGE LET ME HAVE THIS ONE THING PLEASE PLEASE DON’T TAKE HIIIMMMM PLEASE NO NO NO PPPLLEAASEEE 💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭💔🥺🥺🥺😢😔😔😱😱😢😢😔😔😔😔

Anyways you weren’t lying when you said you were in your inactive arc, hoping you join me back soon DON’T LEAVE ME HERE MICHAEL MICHAEEEEEEELLLL 🔥🔥🔥🔥

I AM ALWAYS RIGHT! MY TASTE IN MEN IS IMPECCABLE! 😈 And yeah you”re SO RIGHT I fucking LOVE Higuruma (Miles edgeworth looking ass.) I don’t know how Gege always cooks so hard when it comes to characters 😩, Yuji’s and Choso’s relationship especially, HE’S THE COOK WHO COOKED UP OTHER COOKS 🙏 And i’m glad my jjk brainrot virus is spreading throughout the utmv/utc or whatever the flippio you call it at this point-

Also my fucking GOAT Maki out here destroying those dumbass sexists is absolute GIRL. BOSS. BEHAVIOR.

Ya better read up, cause in 3 weeks JJK ENDS. actually crazy but it’s true 😭 I miss it already….

Also, another suggestion, if you haven’t watched or read it is Jojo’s bizarre adventure 🤑, outside of part 1 which I dislike and part 3 which was boooooring, part 4 onwards is absolute peak, ESPECIALLY part 7 and 8 (sadly no anime for those yet 😔)

As for my inactive arc, i’ll try to revive more often, because i’ve actually just straight up been DEAD outside of looking at some random notifications I got, ALSO WHAT RLLY PISSES ME OFF IS WHEN I GET A NOTIFICATION ABOUT A SPECIFIC POST AND I CLICK ON IT AND IT JUST TAKES ME TO MY FEED, Like bitch I came to look at a specific post not search up that specific account and go through their posts 😭

As for why i’ve been dead eeehhh it’s mostly just I forgot a bit about Tumblr and started using Discord a whole lot more, not to mention i’m working on utc games 🤑 (Oh fuck, i’m in the money! I love money 🤑)

Now, my final question before I dump my doodles on you…

“Are you brainrotted because you’re 3dogbones, or are you 3dogbones because you’re brainrotted.”

I would post more doodles but there’s a 10 image limit 😭

[maoam]

WHY HINATA IS NOT A GOOD CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

I wanted to take a deeper look at Hinata’s character, considering there are a lot of claims about her out there, that she’s strong, that she’s kind, that she’s complex and relatable, that she’s the perfect woman and that she’s at least better than Sakura. I don’t really think so, and I’ll explain why. I’ll be focusing on canon, so no fillers or novels will be included in this post. I’ll say this as a warning, if you’re a fan of her character this probably won’t be something you’ll like. This will be tagged with the anti tags and put under read more so please do not complain if tumblr somehow puts this in the normal tags, it is not intentional. Also Sakura stans please don’t write lengthy comments about Sakura under this, I’m not a fan of her either and I’ll write about her later. Make your own post instead.

”HINATA IS STRONG AND THE BEST KUNOICHI”

Hinata is generally really bad as a shinobi and I’m not sure where the claims that she is strong come from. Hinata's entire character revolves around her being weak. This could have been fine if she actually developed, or if she found some other area for herself, yet she's mediocre at best and a waste of panels at worst, because she never becomes good or strong at anything. She’s not only physically weak from start to finish, but she’s also the equivalent of a damsel in distress. Everytime Hinata attempts to do something, she ends up failing, getting beaten up and having to be saved. She lost to her sister who is five years younger than her, which is what marked her as a failure in her clan. She tried to fight Neji in the chunin exams and ended up coughing up blood and losing her consciousness, and Naruto had to beat Neji for her. After Kabuto heals her fully, she spends the rest of part 1 either sleeping or missing in action. Very underwhelming.

If this had been only the beginning, it would have maybe been fine, but it’s a reoccuring pattern with her character. She throws herself in front of Pain, managing to do nothing but get one-paneled and almost killed. Even at the start of the war she had to be saved by Naruto. She tried to run to Naruto and tripped over a rock. Actually, she’s so weak she got Neji killed, when he had to jump in front of her so she wouldn’t get impaled. Why is she even in the front lines when she can’t fight? Even in Naruto the Last movie she had to be saved multiple times. In Boruto the movie she is still useless and reckless, leaving her daughter’s side to help Naruto, ending up defeated and having to be healed by Sakura once again.

I can’t say she’s mentally strong either. She has the personality of someone who hates conflict and tries to avoid it as best as they can, to the point of agreeing with others on everything, as Neji pointed out. Even without him saying it out loud, most of Hinata’s moments that aren’t her thinking about Naruto are her doing exactly this. This is not the personality of someone who is strong mentally. It’s the personality of someone who is too weak to have their own mind, someone who will go with the flow and is easily led and convinced. It can be dangerous the more you think about it. Hinata is also the bystander who never stands up for Naruto despite liking and admiring him. If she’s a compassionate girl, why isn’t she showing this by reaching out to Naruto and befriending him? Why doesn’t she show he’s not alone? Why is she only drawing inspiration from him? I don’t normally watch fillers, but there was one filler scene unrelated to Hinata where this girl says if you only look at the loser and do nothing, you aren’t much better than the oppressors, which probably wasn’t meant to be a call out for Hinata, but ended up being so anyway. Another thing that’s annoying is how she is berating herself often, yet doing nothing, it comes off as self-pity. Even in the Last movie, she is talking about how she must be a bad sister for knitting a scarf when her sister is in danger. Then why are you doing it and not stopping? Of course everytime this happens Naruto must cheer her up because she just can’t stop moping around and doing something herself.

Aside from all this, from the very beginning Hinata’s honor needed to be defended by Naruto because she couldn’t stand up for herself. Of course, after Naruto’s words she did stood up for a moment, and that was good, but it should have been a wake up call which altered her course. Instead, she kept doing the same she always did. If we take the Last movie into consideration, she’s still not strong enough to do anything even about her crush on Naruto. She needs genjutsu and Sakura to do the work for her. So even when it comes to the only thing she cares about 90 % of the time, which is Naruto-kun, she can’t do anything about it. That’s really sad.

”HINATA IS KIND AND SELFLESS”

There’s one mistake I see people make often, and that’s assuming characters that are quiet and shy are automatically kind. I wouldn’t say Hinata is as kind as the fandom makes her out to be. She simply comes off that way because you don’t really see her have her own opinions or disagree with the other characters. Hinata’s shyness on the other hand is most of the time a fetishized quirk to appeal to certain subset of fans. Her shyness doesn’t stop her from taking exams or hanging around Shino and Kiba, or talking to characters other than Naruto. She also has enough attitude to rub Neji’s status as a house slave in his face during their match, but because she stutters Naruto-kun every five minutes she’s supposedly kind. Kindness is shown through actions, not through standing around and stuttering. For comparison, we see Ino befriend an unpopular kid like Sakura, and give her confidence. That’s an act of kindness. Did Hinata ever cared about helping the branch members in any way? No.

She's supposedly "kind" but like I mentioned before she never shows this kindness by standing up for Naruto, or reaching out to him. She simply stares at him behind a tree and draws inspiration from his suffering. The only time she can actually stand up is to selfishly confess her love and die. She even said she felt like being selfish, and like I said she knew there was nothing she could do, she was told she’d only be in the way. She came there only to confess and commit suicide. This actually reminds me of another anime where this female character, after being unable to receive a male character’s love killed herself in front of him and said ”now you’ll never forget me”.

In the end, she cares about nothing but her own hormonal urges. Hinata tried to help Naruto cheat to pass an exam at the risk of disqualifying her whole team. This is the first individual action we see her character take. Did she consider Shino and Kiba during that moment? No, she didn’t even have an inner conflict on whether she should do this, whether it’s right towards her teammates. Even Naruto considers he might get Hinata, Sasuke and Sakura all in trouble if he accepts Hinata’s offer, which is why he doesn’t do it. Then when Hinata wonders if she can cheer for Naruto during his and Kiba’s match, she thinks Kiba might get mad. It’s more about how Kiba views her rather than whether she should cheer for Kiba because they are in the same team and should support each other. During the Pain attack, she left an injured shinobi, who couldn’t move, to go to Naruto, even when said shinobi told her she would only be in Naruto’s way. She didn’t try to save people, she simply wanted to confess and act in front of Naruto. This is about a threat to the entire village, which includes her comrades and her sister and she’s thinking only about her romantic feelings towards a guy she had maybe two conversations with and who barely remembers she exists. How is she better than Sakura? War arc really was the icing on the cake that Hinata’s character is only about Naruto. We should not forget the infamous ”Naruto-kun’s hand is so big… so manly...” is that really the right time to be thirsty? When Neji just died? Shikamaru mentions that he could help out Naruto as a right-hand man and then Hinata thinks “I-I want to be by Naruto-kun’s side too.” Then there’s of course the scene where she starts running to Naruto, leaving her post and teammates, even when Naruto is a mile away and already in the hands of medical ninjas, and even that ends up her pathetically tripping over a rock. Kiba has to remind her to use her byakugan because she is too busy gushing about Naruto. Eventually her only last line is “Naruto-kun”, when everyone is put into IT. It’s like a parody by this point. She doesn’t have any concern for her sister, her father, her teammates, Kurenai or her baby. It’s just “Naruto-kun” like it always is. Even in the Last movie, she is knitting a scarf for Naruto during the mission where they’re supposed to save her sister. Who brings a scarf on a mission? Why is she thinking about her romantic gift to Naruto so much she has to take it with her on a mission which focus is saving her sister? She even looks more devastated when Toneri tores the scarf apart than she ever does for Hanabi’s sake. It’s just silly and selfish.

”HINATA IS A COMPLEX CHARACTER”

Is she complex though? Her development goes from standing behind a tree looking at her crush she never talks to, to committing suicide for feelings that could never be reciprocated, to… waiting that a genjutsu and Sakura guilt trip Naruto enough for him to be with her? Like I already mentioned her character revolves entirely around Naruto, she has no hobbies or interests we know of aside from him. She has no motivations aside from being by Naruto’s side. She once had an interesting goal and backstory, but that was never fully explored, and it turned into her wanting Naruto’s attention and thinking about him. Her clan plot was irrelevant, she showed no interest in wanting to be a leader or even wanting to make things better for the branch members. It’s funny because immediately after the ending, no one cared about the Hyuuga branch and how the storyline was dropped and had no resolution. It was only when Hinata was being attacked for not showing to care did her fans start to over-analyze all the panels looking for the tiniest little clue that might hint at some changes.

It’s possible to be both shy, anxious and quiet and also to be strong, motivated and have interests and dreams. Hinata is never strong for herself, she’s only strong to be with Naruto, to die for Naruto, to motivate Naruto, to have Naruto look at her even for a moment. All the while Naruto doesn’t pay much attention to her unless she’s literally dying in front of him or she slapped him. Even when a big climax is happening, what’s on her mind is always her romantic feelings and her crush. I saw someone say if she were a male character, and she pulled this pointless sacrifice and theatrical confession in the final fight of an arc, she would’ve been universally mocked. Actually, I think even if it was Sakura who did this instead of Hinata the former would have been mocked, because their stans are unable to see the same flaws in their own fave as they see in the other girl. Naruto is a battle manga, characters are supposed to contribute to the defeat of the villain in some material way. The only reason people praise Hinata for what she did in the Pain arc is because they either pity her or because they’re men who think women killing themselves for a man is great because it boosts their ego.

I also notice many Hinata fans don’t notice the vanity in their own fandom. They call Hinata “princess”, ”heiress”, ”Konoha’s first lady” and draw fanart glorifying these concepts and how it makes Hinata good, because they like the superficial status, what they don’t care is the titles are unearned. I thought Hinata’s appeal was that she’s the underdog and a loser? Or maybe her real appeal is the idea of getting everything you want without doing much in order to get it?  Another claim is that Hinata is the perfect woman, which you might see from men. This is what I might dislike the most. Men judge Hinata’s worth and whether she’s a good character based on what kind of woman they want and think is the right kind of woman. Hinata has big breasts, she’s submissive, she has no other interests than the man she likes, and she’s the only girl in her class who didn’t go for the popular guy. Many men hate Sakura, Ino and Karin for being fangirls but praise Hinata for being a fangirl. Basically to them if a character is a fangirl of the wrong guy, she’s a stupid slut. If she fangirls their self insert, she’s wife material and the ideal woman. If Sakura has to be saved, she’s useless. If Hinata tries to kill herself for Naruto, she’s ”so kind”. Rin is a one-dimensional character, but Hinata saying Naruto-kun for the 50th time is depth. Hinata is also claimed to be better than the other girls because she had more kids and thus is more ”fertile”. It’s like feminism never happened and we are back to the 16th century. Why are we judging women’s worth on how many kids they have and how much they can please a man?

I could also talk about how Studio Pierrot turned Hinata into a hentai bait for otakus, which also plays a part in her popularity, but I don’t think it’s necessary, so I will just offer this picture which speaks for itself.

END NOTE

Hinata is simply just a sexist stereotype, a shadow of a real woman, with not much depth, and who is certainly not better than Sakura either. Both of them are fangirls whose characters revolve around men. It’s wild to me how there are women who genuinely act like one must be a misogynist if they reject Hinata’s superficial, one-dimensional and boy crazy character. Her character itself is misogynist for crying out loud. And honestly, what does it say when even the creator himself assumes that Hinata is someone’s favorite character because he must like big boobs?

[wearingaberetinparis]

Gold-Plated Love

Title: Gold-Plated Love Words: 7595 Status: Work in Progress Seven years into their relationship, James Potter and Lily Evans are at a crossroads. What had once seemed fated and gold-plated is now under immense pressure. The question is: are they something worth fighting for?

Did I write another thing? Yes, I did. Is it complete yet? No, it’s not, but it will be soon.  How would I describe it? It broke my heart to write it. The idea for this Jily fic came to me after posting the third chapter of Knocked Up By My Ex. I had no intention of writing it or posting it until after I finished the fourth chapter of KUBME, but I found myself typing it out and then suddenly I had finished two chapters. Consider this a peace offering, because I won’t be able to update Knocked Up By My Ex until Wednesday 4 May, since I’ll be flying to Stockholm with two of my best friends tomorrow.

Take care, sweethearts! I will probably still be on Tumblr and I will still write over the next few days, but I’m leaving my main writing device - my laptop - at home for once. 

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[valenhell]

From the studio that brought you “I can’t find good Byler fics in the ao3 tag”, comes:

"The Definitive Byler fic rec list"

Literally no one asked for this but because I spent the majority of last year (...and 2019, and 2018...) reading byler fics and coping with life, I thought I’d make a list of some of my absolute favorites. 

The other day I was basically starving for some byler fics and the angel @magicalfairy provided me with some of her faves so I thought I’d do the same, because I love reading, and I love all of these fics and I appreciate their writers💗 And fic writers in general, come on!

- This is a mix of long works and one-shots/short stories. - Everything is mostly fluff with a tad of angst and a lot of internalized homophobia conflict.  - Every fic is completed, except for the ones I mention that they are not. - I try my best to lay out the stories in a way that I won’t spoil you the plot but also warning you of some stuff you might don’t like. Either way, all of these fics are correctly tagged by their respective authors/owners, so read at your own risk. For better understanding, in between brackets I denote Rating, Words and quantity of Chapters. - I feel like I should clarify, none of these are narrated in the singular first person. None of that “And I told him...”, no. 

Long fics

a dream always the same (T, 99k, 35 chapters) What happened in those few weeks between the Battle of Starcourt and the Byers leaving Hawkins. Literally a satisfying and very needed fill in of season three, with a good dose of Mike’s thoughts and conflict. Mike’s characterization is specially amazing in this one. The writing style is amazing and I know the author put everything into making it historically accurate, and it was really sweet. You probably read it, it’s by the amazing sevensided here on Tumblr🧡

Spring Break (T, 120k, 14/15 chapters) The slowburn of my dreams. Lots of internalized conflict and conflict with each other. Conflict within the Party (uhh kind of), conflict with Mike and Will. Byers family has moved and the kids are visiting! Chaos. Characterization is on point. Yeah, I know it’s unfinished, but the fourteenth chapter actually serves as a pretty nice ending. 

This is where it starts (M, 148.8k, 24 chapters) Aged up characters. The Party is in college and Will disappears again, but now it’s different. Mike knows he didn’t vanish from thin air, and the discovery he and the Party end up making is pretty insane. Mystery solving/fantasy/third dimension, throw in a bit of D&D and Mike realizing some shit, and you get this marvelous fic. It’s a breath of fresh air. The world building is definitely one of the elements that stands out the most, because it’s very nicely described, it sounds like a dream and it’s completely immersive. Absolute gem of a fic. 

there’s a Starman waiting in the sky (M, 30.6k, 8 chapters) Do I need to say anything? Will is out there living his best life and Mike realizes that wow, umm, maybe his best friend looks a bit too nice with that costume... and wait, is he getting horny? It’s actually really fun and sexy.

The Evening Speaks (T, 23k, 7 chapters) In where Mike is a late-night college radio host and Will is the art student that stays up till late to catch up with Wheeler on the Mic. They flirt through songs y’all, this one is really sweet. 

heads or tails? (E, 24k, 3 chapters) Aged up characters. I know most people don’t enjoy sex in fics and with specific characters but this one is insanely well written. It’s a slowburn that commits to the tension and with every word you are grasping and anticipating their next move. I think you can find the author here on Tumblr as yousaidyes🧡

The Man of Average (M, 56.7k, 5/? chapters) Aged up characters. No but you don’t understand, the writing here is absolute gourmet. The story is exciting as well, it’s super interesting. Weirdly enough, for being very aged up characters, they are well characterized but they don’t feel like teenagers. They are naturally Mike and Will. The author really captured Mike and Will’s essence. I know, it’s unfinished and it’s updated very rarely, but this is the typical fic you can’t believe someone just posted on the internet for free. I will say though, I think it’s definitely not for everyone. Read at your own risk.

Heartstrings (E, 82.8k, 24/? chapters) Aged up characters. By the same author of The Man of Average. A collection of memories, the road to Mike and Will’s happy ever after. And fucking hell!!!!! You’ll cry and get angry, you’ll cheer for them, then you’ll want to crash their faces together because god dammit you love each other!!! But yeah, same thing here. The writing and the way the story is laid out as a nonlinear narrative is brilliant. And I also think this is one of the best Will versions I’ve read. The author might as well be the og creator of this two characters tbh. You can find the author here as mylesimeblr🧡

Sinners behind the walls (T, 1.5k, 1/1) And because I can’t stop recommending this author, a little thing of Mike tormenting himself but also being too deeply committed to Will. 

The Red Envelope series (T/E, 167K, two completed works) Something happens that Will thought was impossible and from there, pure drama and romance. Anything by this author has the potential to become your absolute favorite fic, but this series in particular is amazing. I doubt that any of you haven’t read this, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in this list. I’m pretty sure the author is serendipitous-magic on Tumblr🧡

A New Fight series (T, 91k, two completed works, one WIP) And finally the Star Wars AU that we all needed. But this isn’t your typical “Mike is Han”, “Will is Leia” and “El is Luke”, it’s way more interesting than that, and the author has appropriated the Star Wars world like no other. I’ll admit I’m not a 100% fluent in SW lore but this is amazing to me either way. This author is also on Tumblr, tea-for-one-please🧡

- Yes, most of these are (if not all), in a way, canon compliant/canonverse/canon continuation into fanon. (In a way)

One-shots and short stories

Sundae for Two, Please (G, 4.8k) Steve being the supportive friend and older brother these kids collectively need. (not Jonathan erasure, we love him). Steve is very sweet himself, and this little cute thing through his POV is gorgeous. Yes, it’s byler.

Backstage (T, 10k, 2/2) Jonathan, you forgot to mention to Will how hot your new band’s guitarist is, dude. Now he’s hyperventilating and weirdly flirting with him in the corner. Background Stonathan because why not.

102 Peach Street (G, 3.8k) Established relationship, but not only that, they are married :’’))) PURE fluff. Extreme fluffiness. Diabetes. 

sweatshirts and bottled up feelings (T, 3.2k) Or, Mike thinks that the sweatshirt Will wears looks insanely good on him. And kitchens are for lovers. 

kiss it better (T, 16.3k) Basically one of the best character studies of a few precise moments of Mike and Will’s relationship and feelings. 

will wonders ever cease (T, 11.3k) #i ship will and happiness. Omfg what a beautiful piece of fanfic. Will centric, this kid really deserves all the good in the world.

The Calm After the Storm (T, 1.6k) Tooth rotting fluff, boyfriends in love. Boyfriends being lazy, cuddling, love words, kisses. Boys loving each other’s company... Basically, Mike and Will in their element. What more can you ask for?

neither of us ready to let go (T, 4.8k) That scene from season three, but a bit of a fix it. 

Still in love (G, 1k) Domestic, married life au fluff. Y’all, I’m a sucker for established Byler, even if I can’t find many fics with it. But this is very sweet. It takes place in 2020, but I don’t think there are any mentions of the COVID-19 crisis that I remember.

I Nver Find Out ‘Til I’m Head Over Heels (G, 12.5K) Classic 5+1 fic. If you haven’t read it, where have you been? This is your moment. In where Mike keeps inviting Will to the school dances and Will thinks it’s just a joke until he realizes it’s not. 

Before You’re Gone (T, 5.9k) Will is leaving Hawkins and Mike thinks this is a great moment for a confession. This one I discovered last friday, thank you friend @magicalfairy 💗

You’re weird Wheeler (M, 4.5k) Mike unintentionally starts a tradition of going to each other to talk about their sexual encounters just after they finish. Will keeps getting more explicit with the details he shares, and he makes his best friend interested. This one is really fun y’all.

Out-Of-Town Friends (N/R, 4.6K) It’s not rated. I haven’t re- read it but I’d say it would probably fall in a T rating. So cute!! Will has new friends and sneaks off every friday and the Party doesn’t know where he is going, so Mike decides to follow him and is surprised. 

Snowed Under (G, 1.3k) By the same author of The New Fight series. Mike is spending christmas by himself in college because a snowstorm hits Chicago and Nancy can’t drive to see him, but then he has a surprise visitor. Ahhh just a lil sweet holiday fic. Super cute. 

you love me anyway series (T, 7.1k, three completed works) Literally just the cutest thing ever. Established Byler. Will loves to take pictures and he loves taking pictures of Mike. It’s adorable. 

you wanna be friends forever (i can think of something better) (T, 9k) This one is so amazing. So. Amazing. From Will’s POV, my kid deserves the world and he gets it. 

okay not to be okay (T, 4.9k) Mike is a bit sad but then everything is okay. 

can’t hold out forever (G, 18.4k) Y’all!!!!! 5+1 sweetness. Mike has been falling in love since kindergarten. And it’s long af, you’ll enjoy it. 

even if it takes forever (G, 1.3k) College short AU, they miss each other, they love each other, they promise all to each other. It is sappy y’all.

clear as day (N/R, 18.4K, 4 chapters) It’s not rated, but I’d say it falls in the T category. Strangers to friends to lovers. And also, everyone is pretty gay; we have our dynamic trio Mike, Max and El as disaster lesbians (and gay). Will works at the library and he is also gay. Lucas and Dustin and Will are the best friends we needed. It’s very sweet and the Party is kind of formed here!

I went overboard with the one-shots, so you must have realized how much I love long one-shots and I favor them over long works lmao but they are all amazing!!! If it’s on this list, I probably read it at 2 am, sobbing in my bed. So. Hope you enjoy it☺️🧡

[footballffbarbiex]

Updates.

I dropped off the face of the planet, I’m well aware and so I’m posting this now so it’s out of the way and taken care of.  The past 2 month so have been...well. It’s been something but meeting and hosting my beloved @iwriteficsandtragedies at my own home has made it all worthwhile. 

I paused Patreon because of the things that I had going on (thank you for the messages, I really did/do appreciate them) and I wasn’t in a good mindset. But I guess I’m back now and in that time, I’ve done some writing. I’ve also taken some of the feedback on board and now each update will include a banner so that you know it’s a fic and something to read as opposed to just my shit posting. 

When each is posted there, I’ll post the snippet and link here too as I know people tend to check here more than their email and it’ll allow everyone to see the goodness that will be coming!

So, what is coming to Patreon from August is as follows -

(and is in no particular order with pieces to be finished and probably loads more to be added as I think up more ideas)

Monday - Wednesday are Patreon exclusives and early access to series days.  Saturday - Sunday are Tumblr early access days. 

 ❤️ - relationship 👶🏻- baby daddy 💦- smut 🫂 - soulmate or AU 🥀 - angst ❄️ - winter 😢 - grief 🤰- pregnancy  ⚤- dark or cnc  🍆💼 - sex work   🍆 - one night stand    💶 - sugar baby  🔫 - violence

(please keep in mind that emojis on the series section may not apply to that chapter but do apply to the series itself. Each chapter will have it’s own warnings.)

You’re responsible for your own consumption, especially if proceeding to read a piece which has warnings not to your tastes.

If you would like to be tagged in any of these and are not currently on one of my tag lists, please show your interest right here.

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Early Access to Tumblr updates:  First tier. $1

Gains you super early access to tumblr blurbs and one shots as well as Patreon exclusive fluff Friday’s and smut Wednesdays. Though you do not have the ability to request fics for your birthday or have monthly requests like on other tiers, you are able to send in requests for these blurb days when prompted to do so. 

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Antoine Griezmann. Clairefontaine.  💦

Antoine Griezmann. Give In To Me.  💦

Antoine Griezmann. Riding Shotgun. Kink Bingo. 💦 ⚤

Antoine Griezmann. Law Of Attraction. 💦

Anyone You Want.  Adjust Your Halo. 💦❤️

Anyone You Want.  Marry Me. 🥀

Anyone You Want.  That Kiss.  💦❤️

Anyone You Want.  The Illustrator.  👶🏻❤️

Benjamin Pavard. Starry Night.  ❄️❤️

Hector Bellerin Reunions.  ❄️❤️

Kasper Schmeichel  Sweets.    ❄️❤️

Kepa Arrizabalaga. Secrets.  ❄️❤️

Kylan Mbappe. Stars.  ❄️❤️

Leon Goretzka. Paying Attention. 💦❤️

Marco Rose.  I Don’t Want To Say Goodbye.  🥀

Mason Mount. Cam Girl. Pt 2. Kinktober. 💦🍆💼

Mats Hummels. Train Ride.  ❄️❤️

Paulo Dybala. Snowball Fights.  ❄️❤️

Roman Bürki. Neighbourhood Watch.    Pt 2.   💦

Roman Bürki. Summer Lovin’ 💦🍆

Roman Bürki. ABCs of... 💦❤️

Ruben Dias. Snowflakes.  ❄️❤️

Ruben Loftus Cheek. Sleigh Rides.  ❄️❤️

Ruben Loftus Cheek. Snowman.  ❄️❤️

Tyrone Mings. Wishes.  ❄️❤️

I will also be including the missing 12 Months of .... players too.

_

Patreon Exclusive One Shots and Requests: Third tier. $3

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Gains you access to the updates above, the availability to read over 100 Patreon only requests and fics that are already on there, request your own fics and have access to these bad boys when they become live and any other after:

Anyone You Want.  Partition.  💦❤️

Anyone You Want.  Full. 💦❤️

Anyone You Want. Freak Me, Baby.  💦❤️

Anyone You Want.  New Rules. 💦🥀

Anyone You Want.  Craving. 💦❤️

Anyone You Want.  The Realtor. 💦

Chris Evans. The Premier.  Request. ❤️👶🏻

Leon Goretzka. What’s The Champions League?  Request. 💦❤️

Leon Goretzka. Pay Up.  Request.    💦❤️

Rodrigo De Paul. Fake Madrid.  Request. 💦  

Ruben Dias Bragging Rights pt 2. Request. 💦❤️

please note the ones in this section are not coming to tumblr. 

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Early Access to Series:  Fourth tier. $5.

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Gains you access to the updates above plus:

Antoine Griezmann Blank Space.  🍆💼 💦👶🏻❤️

Antoine Griezmann. A Kiss From Death.🫂💦❤️

Antoine Griezmann. For Your Entertainment. Mini series. 💦🥀

Antoine Griezmann. Tear You Apart.  🫂💦❤️🥀

Antoine Griezmann. Always. 💦❤️ 🥀

Anyone You Want So...Teach Me.💦

Anyone You Want. Just A Taste. Vampire mini series. Patreon Only Series.  💦🫂

Eric Dier.  Baby, Sugar. Patreon Only Series until completion. 💶💦❤️

Federico Bernardeschi. Behind Enemy Lines. Patreon Only Series. 🫂 🥀💦❤️🔫

Federico Bernardeschi. Here Without You.   🫂💦❤️

Mason Mount / OC / Ben Chilwell. Compersion.  💦❤️

Mason Mount. The Heart Never Lies.  💦❤️

Multi Players. Once Upon A Time. Disney tales AU. In the works... ❤️ 💦🫂

Oscar Mingueza Lost In Paradise.  Kink Bingo glory hole series. 💦🍆💼❤️

Oscar Mingueza. The Vow.🥀💦❤️

Roman Bürki. HEA. 💦👶🏻❤️

Roman Bürki. Remember Me.  🫂 🥀❤️

Ruben Dias  Speakeasy. (Unsure if Patreon Only Series) 💦❤️

To be decided who To Be Owned By You. 💦❤️

is there anything on here you’re looking forward to?

[pikapeppa]

Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

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

Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot. 

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight. 

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon. 

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through. 

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either. 

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.” 

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking. 

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon. 

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face. 

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door. 

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still… 

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?” 

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?” 

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did. 

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read. 

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair. 

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said. 

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke. 

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this. 

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner.  “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping. 

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower? 

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes. 

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too. 

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin… 

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this. 

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.