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tiptapricot · 2 years ago

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Wahoo! Hey all! The time has finally come :-)

I’m opening up some writing comms, and this post will act as a hub for what I have open, prices, contact information, etc. All information will be listed under the cut for easy editing while still having reblogs on, as well as on this info doc. If you’ve ever wanted some words from me, here’s how to get ‘em!

Currently offering: Prose

Prose

Current availability: temporarily closed, will reopen sometime in January or so, feel free to check in if you’d like to be added to the waitlist and get first dibs on slots! I may be open sooner for smaller commissions in the 500-2k range.

General description: A piece of prose (original or fanfiction) of a desired scene, interaction, or character exploration.

Prices (all in USD):

~500-700 words: $15 (ex 1, ex 2, ex 3)

~1,000-2,000 words: $30 (ex 1, ex 2)

~3,000-4,000 words: $60 (ex 1) (ex 2)

~5,000-6,000 words: $90 (ex 1, ex 2)

I will only be taking one 5k-6k commission at once, and a maximum of two for the 3k-4k option. Availability may vary based on word counts requested/currently in my queue. Additional charges may apply for extremely complicated or hyper-specific requests.

Note: Exact word count will vary somewhat within the paid for limit depending on what works best for the story's flow. This will not require an extra charge, nor will it permit a discount. However, tips are greatly appreciated!

Open for:

Your Original Characters/worlds

Moon Knight (show and comics)

Werewolf By Night (Marvel Special)

The Mandalorian (gen fic, select ships, ask!)

The Batfamily (all characters)

Any shows from the DCAU (including the zeta project!)

The Legion of Super Heroes (2006)

Into and Across the Spider-verse

Bill and Ted (movies)

The Lost Boys (1987)

Wolf 359

Ask! There is plenty of media I am familiar with and can write for that is not listed here

Examples:

“He digs back into the dresser, and the clothes sink right up to his shoulders. At least it feels like that. It’s a hazy day, but they’ll manage. Eighties pop Marc can’t name plays from Steven’s record player in the living room behind them, and he tosses aside a few sweaters on Steven’s request and a pair of hole filled socks on his own. Jeans, boxers. Jake surfaces to tell them to chuck an old pair of gloves, hovering vaguely, and takes a dig at Marc’s collection of Chicago Cubs belt buckles lined up along the top shelf in the process. Marc quips back about the suffocating thickness of his pants, and Jake laughs heartily, and melts closer to front.

It’s hard, having them all so close at the same time. There’s a slight strain on Marc’s eyes and he keeps losing track of where his hands are, but it’s also warm. They’re each happy and content, and the reassurance of each other is a pressure he can stand. He wants to slap Steven when he calls black unfashionable, and he also wants to press against him like an affectionate cat, and they are blurred and strange and fuzzy.

It’s a weird place to be. It’s a lovely place to be.” (An Extraterrestrial Observing Earth)

— — —

“Everything’s buzzing, like a bass drum beating in his chest, fear rolling up the back of his throat in waves. It’s not all Marc, but he’s certainly not helping much, either.

“It’s not the end of the world if it’s not just you and me. We get along well, yeah? And this guy—”

“There is no guy.”

“And this very probable bloke is just doing his best to help.” Steven sighs aloud, hands wrapping around his mug. “Maybe he was the one in… Cairo, I think. I think something happened in Cairo.”

“Nothing happened, that’s not how this works. I’ve been at this longer than you and—”

“What? At this body?” Steven finds enough of an internal sense to scoff. “Marc, I’ve been here too. In a different way, yeah, but I’m not a bloody novice.” ” (A Moon Knight and OC comm)

— — —

“It all happens so fast.

The resulting explosion triggers the emergency eject pods, pressurization separating them in a split second that Commander doesn’t register until it’s too late. He catches one last glimpse of Frenchie through the viewing port of his pod, eyes wide and fists slamming on the glass, before they’re being hurled in opposite directions in a haze of metal shrapnel and plasma.

And then he’s alone, the world spinning faster than he can keep up, his elbows banging against the thin inner padding of the pod as it hurtles into open space.” (10,000 Lightyears Somewhere Out In Space)

— — —

“The job is straightforward. There’s been a large, bat-like mutant picking off herd animals and townsfolk in a city just off the Salt Canyon shallows, and they’re paying a hell of a lot to get it taken care of. It’s about a mile West of the bluffs, visible from up high as soon as you get around them, nestled in the expansive ribcage of some old beast with nets and wire strung up around the perimeter and house lights twinkling from their place in the hollow marrow.

Rigel starts up conversation as they make their way down the slope, the sand giving way to coarser white dust as the dark expanse of the canyons loom ahead. Romero tunes most of it out, keeping his heels steady at his horse’s sides, eyes set ahead and scanning the skies.” (Misadventures, an OC prompt fill)

— — —

Additional full pieces can be found on my ao3, as well as under the #my fic tag linked in my tumblr bio and search tags

Info to include when commissioning this item:

1. For Original Characters/worlds

Unless I am very familiar with this OC/world, I will need some kind of informational document/bio to reference while doing work. Things to include on something like this involve name, pronouns, (if no art refs) physical description, personality, and important background knowledge required to do the requested story justice (like big life events, if they are married, if they have experienced a certain kind of trauma, if they have a nervous tic or stim, etc.). I will almost always ask clarifying questions or check for further info if I feel I need it (ex: voice quality, drink preference), but just remember you are giving me the necessary info to write your character. More information is always better for me

Preferred point of view and tense (first/second/third person, past/present). If not specified, I will default to third person, and tense will depend on what I think fits the story best.

Unless I am very familiar with this OC/world, a description/outline of the story you would like me to write, with details included to the extent you have them/want them. The less familiar I am with your character, the more specificity would be appreciated

Specific details may include information of the setting (ex: if it is set in a fantasy bar, or you have a specific idea of their house), characters reacting in a certain way (ex: at this point Larry pushes Tom back after being kissed and asks what’s wrong), what clothes or jewelry is being worn, etc. If the story is on the longer side, there will likely be more details needed. If details are not specified, they will not be mentioned, or I will make them myself based on the already provided info (ex: giving the fantasy bar drinks my own names, saying there is a couch by the door, having Larry kiss Tom back hard because he was described as a romantic). Remember, you are giving me what I am working off of, so include what you want me to include

The word count bracket you would like the story to be. Please make sure your story idea viably fits within the word count you are paying for. Example links above. If you are unsure, ask! :-)

2. For Fanfiction

The media the story will be from

The characters involved

The relationships involved

A description of the story you would like me to write, with details included to the extent you want them/have them (ex: Robin helps a hurt Batman get home)

Specific details may include character beats, interactions, or headcanons you would like me to include (ex: Batman has a scar on his neck, Batman worries about how long he’s been unconscious, Robin cracks a joke about cracking bones, Batman and Robin have watched Star Trek together in the past). Remember, you are giving me what I am working off of, so include what you want me to include

Preferred point of view and tense (first/second/third person, past/present). If not specified, I will default to third person, and tense will depend on what I think fits best.

(If applicable) The version of the character you would like me to write (ex: Bogus Journey era Bill and Ted, Batman Beyond era superbat, comics Moon Knight)

The word count bracket you would like the story to be. Please make sure your story idea viably fits within the word count you are paying for. Example links above. If you are unsure, ask! :-)

If you do not have a detailed idea for a fic, that is also ok! We can discuss things, and especially with characters I'm familiar with, I can go off very general stuff. Above info is for if you want a very specific story, so I can get you the creation you want!

Will do:

Most ships

Gen fic

Nsfw/certain kinks (further info, required details, and examples upon request)

Monsters

Horror

Tropes and AUs

Queer exploration

Reader insert (further info and required details upon request)

Ask if you have something specific!

Won’t do:

Stories focused on self harm or suicide (can be mentioned in passing, referenced, etc.)

Anything with incest, pedo, or bestiality. Includes batcest.

Kinks I am uncomfortable with or don’t feel like I will be able to do justice (ex: hard bdsm, scat, non-monster/inhuman bloodplay. you can ask!)

Ships I am uncomfortable with (sladick, khonshu x mk sys, star x david, etc. feel free to ask!)

Fandom characters I do not feel I have an adequate knowledge of. If this is the case and you would still like the story, you can follow the outlined info in the original characters section to know what to give me, along with any informational videos, articles, or other resources you think would help to delve into the character.

Anything I do not want to do! I have the right to refuse any commission

Payment method: PayPal or Ko-fi, but others will come soon

To claim a slot, contact me with your request via tumblr, instagram, or discord dms, or email me at [email protected]

After talking through your idea, I will write out a bullet pointed outline and send it to you. Payment is up front once that outline has been approved and we have have finalized that I am taking your commission (payment time can be flexible depending on situation, check with me)

You will be added to the queue, and get a message when I begin working on your commission

Estimated completion time will vary depending on word count, story type, my personal life, and your place in the queue. When I begin working on your piece, I will try to give you a time estimate for completion. This may range from a week to over a month, depending on the length of your piece, and my spoon level. This may be further impacted by irl events limiting my writing time, and if you are later in the queue it will also be longer before I get to you. I will try to be as communicative as possible, but prompt completion is not guaranteed. If you need it completed within a certain time frame, let me know!

I will check in with snippets and questions during the writing process when applicable, and you are welcome to request check ins on progress, or ask your place in the queue. If it appears there will be a significant delay with your commission once I've gotten to it, I'll let you know!

Once I have finished your commission, you will get a Google Docs link or PDF. If a different or specific form of receiving your story works better for you, let me know!

You may request up to 3 alterations once receiving your finished commission, further alterations or large changes due to something you did not specify initially will require an additional charge. (Tweaks based on something you included details for and that I overlooked/forgot will not count, ex: I wrote a character’s hair as brown when it was blonde)

If you are ok with your commission being shared, I may choose to do so on my preferred sites. For fanfic: I am not allowed to mention I have been paid to create a specific fan work, especially on ao3. It will be treated and talked about as a fic request. Do not say anywhere on ao3 that you commissioned a work from me.

If you have any questions on any of this, just ask :-)

#writing commissions #the fruit is talking again #my fic #my-fic

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alstroemeriadissonance · 3 years ago

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Pillow Talk - Part 2 - Neon Jealousy

Short fiction accompanying the dakki art I commissioned here

Slight NSFW

Vyn–or Vilhelm, for tonight–hands you both ends of the loose black ribbon coiled around his neck.

“Take both ends of my choker, pet.” His voice comes breathy and seductive, trickling down your ears like spiced honey. “Then loop them around your fingers.”

You stare at the man sitting beside you on your bed, sniffling a little.

Vilhelm returns your look with his indecipherable grin, observing you as your trembling fingers obey his bidding: you wrap the black leather strips around your index and middle fingers.

And, seeing the deed done, his alluring lips slowly break into a smile quite unhinged.

A shot of thrill runs down your spine as those same lips move and with his breathy voice he praises you,

“Good girl. You are doing well so far.”

At this very moment you almost forget why the both of you have ended up in your bedroom, sitting on your bed; the heavy, suffocating sexual tension almost pushing out unpleasant memories that took place a couple of hours ago:

===

A few hours ago, in an underground club.

As soon as Louis’s band finished their set list it didn’t take more than a few seconds for the band’s mysterious, immensely attractive touring keyboardist, ‘Vilhelm’, to be swamped by girls. You could only look on as his lithe silhouette–too far apart from you, enough for you to lose all hope in fending off the girls away from him this time, much less reach him–is swallowed up by the overly excited crowd.

One of the girls who vied for his attention caught your eye: a popular actress who starred in no less than three current, ongoing television series.

A sinking feeling plummeted down the hollow pit of your stomach as you realized how little and almost insignificant you felt compared to the drop-dead gorgeous actress who seemed ready to do everything to get him for herself.

Compared to her, I’m just a nobody, really, you thought as you looked on while this actress grabbed his hand, shaking it.

Ah, well. You supposed that he would benefit from the attention anyway, what with all of the effort he paid into composing and practicing in preparation for this gig.

And so you quietly decided to leave the venue alone, coming home to your apartment instead of going on a planned late night dinner with him.

Yet the moment you closed your apartment door behind you, finally finding yourself in the quiet refuge of your home your tears came unbidden, a torrent washing over the raging black hole culminating from your sheer jealousy at seeing Vyn lavished with such adoration. You tried to fight away the jealousy with words of sobering logic, but feelings, you quickly learn, could never be explained away.

Tear-stricken, your insides torn apart with jealousy and insecurity that you never knew you had–this was how Vyn came upon you as he suddenly stepped through your door, and into your arms.

===

Back to the present.

Your eyes trace Vyn’s rather sexy figure, a clear departure from his usual prim-and-proper elegance: an all-black ensemble of sleeveless shirt and cargo pants, topped off with a cornflower-blue shirt unbuttoned halfway with sleeves slid down his shoulders to allow a peek of his biceps.

His hair, pulled back and tied into a tiny twig of a ponytail, accentuates his jawline.

His neck, bound with the choker whose ends you grip with your fingers, like a leash.

Again, a strange smile spreads on his lips.

He then instructs you, once again with a voice as sweet as dripping honey: “Tug at the ribbon slowly.” The amber in his eyes darken to caramel in the lowlights of your dimmed bedroom. “Go ahead.”

You are about to voice your objection–you do not want to hurt him–but you decide to trust Vyn, like you always do.

You gently pull at the ribbon; nothing happens.

“Harder. You have to mean it,” he tells you, eyes brimming with a darker emotion. “And look at me. Look at me when you do it.”

After taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, apprehensive with what you are about to do, your wrist flicks and the leather ribbon snaps taut; Vyn is pulled towards you as you tug at his ribbon choker, hard.

“Hhnkh!” He winces, yet the expression of discomfort is quickly blotted out and replaced by a warm, cat-like satisfaction. “Haahh…” He moans, his face now dangerously close to yours. “Good.” His heated breath fans your lips, betraying how excited he is at the moment.

Your eyes are transfixed to his face; his expression blissed out.

It perplexes you, you have never seen him quite like this, and you wonder if he had too much to drink.

“Well? Do you see who owns me, Rosa? Who is holding my leash? Who has me at her beck and call, completely at her disposal?” The tip of his pink tongue runs across his lower lip, and your eyes cannot help but look at it hungrily.

You are suddenly keenly aware of how you are still holding–pulling–at his ribbon choker; your fingers are about to let go, yet Vyn’s own hand grabs yours to keep it from relinquishing hold of the leather strip.

“Earlier you were crying about feeling inadequate, that you do not deserve me–oh, Rosa,” Vyn leans forward even more, the leather strip now slack upon your hands as he brings his face even closer to yours.

His voice gains a faint edge as he continues, “Do not speak of such impertinent words.”

“W-what do you mean?” you ask as you unconsciously move back ever so slightly, the immensely close proximity now overbearing.

Yet you forget about his leash that you are holding, and so he is pulled along with you.

A small gasp escapes his lips.

“What I mean is,” he says as soon as he gathers himself, “Only I shall determine who is deserving of me.” he whispers. “Do not take away that agency from me. Do not dare.”

The words almost sound like a threat.

“Well? Who is holding my leash? Who has me on her bed, right now?”

You gulp nervously. He is trying to make a point, you think. “Me,” you finally answer.

Vyn then shifts to all fours, moving so close towards you that his lips are almost kissing your ear. “Yes. You, Rosa. My beloved. That famous actress, whose name I did not bother knowing nor did I listen to her inane, forced introduction, is not the woman whose bed I will warm tonight.”

You gasp at the outright innuendo in his words.

Yet he continues. “It is your bed, Rosa, which I will warm with my body.” A dark chuckle tickles your ear, prompting gooseflesh to bloom on your skin.

“I am yours to command and play with, if you wish.”

A rush of heat flows throughout your body at his words, and you are now suddenly acutely aware of the blazing hot blush coloring your skin.

A small kiss on your earlobe. “I shall not see you cry over a horrible, unsightly misunderstanding,” he finally whispers. “I have always been yours, do you still refuse to acknowledge this?”

“R-really?” is all you can manage to voice out after everything that has been thrown towards you. Vyn wants me. He wants me. He wants me only. Me. Numerous thoughts rush through your brain as you look at him wordlessly.

Vyn laughs softly, the smile on his face morphing into something more flirtatious in nature. “Silly girl,” he murmurs as he takes upon himself to lie down on your bed, his head propped up with one of your pillows. “I suppose I should show you what you have, that the girls you saw earlier can only dream of having.”

Vyn then reaches out to you, his hands grabbing both your wrists. “Come. Come to me, and enjoy who you have in your sole possession.”

He places your hands on his abdomen, your palms flat against the soft fabric of his cornflower blue shirt. “Let us start with you touching me, pet,” he whispers in a voice so breathy and erotic that it sends your nape shivering in delight.

“Vyn? Are you suggesting I undress you?” you dare ask, your breath hitching in your throat. Your fingers unconsciously caress his shirt as you await his reply.

“How else can my words be understood?”

“Are you sure?” you ask him, a gentle verbal prod to make sure you understand his intent correctly.

Vyn sighs, yet a faint shadow of a smile plays on his lips. “Do not second guess me, Rosa,” he says. Then, in a soft voice that almost goes unheard, “I want you to.”

That quiet admittance, the short four-word sentence finally breaks your apprehension, and you accept your place in his life–and his in yours–at least for tonight.

And so, with your unsteady fingers you undo the buttons of his blue shirt, parting them as soon as you are done.

Now in the way between your fingers and his bare skin are the layers of his black and gray sleeveless shirts. Once again you place your hands on his upper body, as you look to him for guidance.

Yet guidance is not to be found on the man laying down on your bed, underneath your hands. “Why hesitate, Rosa? Do you not want to continue?” Vyn’s question almost comes across as needy. “Do you not want to touch me?”

“Vyn, I–”

Gold eyes hazy with need–and something else that is magnitudes darker–meet your unsure olive gaze.

“Touch me,” comes his command.

“Oh, damn it,” you mutter finally, hands slipping underneath the hem of his layers, pushing his shirts upward until a good part of his stomach is laid bare. The pads of your fingertips run across his skin, relishing his warmth and how smooth he feels underneath your touch.

And those soft moans calling for you, oh does he sing your name, telling you to touch him more, and more. “Yes, that is it. Stake your claim on me. I am yours, nobody–ahh–” His voice trails off, losing himself to your shy, yet determined ministrations.

You bend over to plant kisses down his chest–slightly damp with sweat–breathe in the arousing scent of his cologne mixed with musk. Intoxicating, is the word that comes into your mind. Unconsciously you breathe in even more of him, willing yourself to drown in his scent.

“Mmm, Vyn,” this time, it is your own voice shuddering. “I do want you. I…”

Yes. I may not be as beautiful, or as famous, or as prestigious, your thoughts are now laced with a sliver of pride as your tongue runs a wet trail along his collarbone, while your hands slide down his abdomen…

…and your fingers start to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his cargo pants.

But I’m the one Vyn wants, comes your determined realization as soon as your hand finds the irrefutable evidence of his hunger for you. Your hand gently kneads the bulge contained in his underwear, eliciting a long, drawn out sigh from the beautiful man underneath you.

“Haaahh–haha, I am glad you are starting to give in to your desires,” Vyn says in between moans. “But, before we go any further, pet…”

Gently–regretfully–he prises away both your hands by the wrists, and his fingers slide up your chin, making you look him in the eyes.

“I did say I am yours, and that you can do whatever you want with me,” Vyn whispers, a cryptic smile on his face. “But this is not to say that my gift is…free.”

You blink at him, sex haze not fully shaken out of you yet. “What do you mean, I–”

His cryptic smile morphs into a voluptuous, dangerous invitation. “I expect something of equivalent value in exchange, Rosa. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?”

You look at him in silence, willing him to explain himself.

“I will not control you, nor fetter you, my beloved. But,” he touches your cheek with a fingertip, tracing the outline of your lips then bringing the same finger to his mouth, kissing its tip.

“I need reassurance. That despite you spending time with your best friend, Luke; the incessant flirting from Marius, the insistence of control by Artem, you will,” he sighs, of longing this time, as he caresses your cheek, “...come back to me. That it is me you will come home to. That you are, ultimately, mine.”

Stunned speechless at such a show of vulnerability, coming from Vyn especially, leaves you gaping at him until you gather your wits to manage a nod.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I’m all yours, Vyn, if you’ll have me. Even if I’m not…I’m not as beautiful, or–”

“Ssh, not a word about your insecurities. I will dispel them, as much as I can tonight. And tomorrow. And Sunday, after tomorrow.” his lips curl into a tender smile as he winks at you. “Let us share our little secrets with each other this entire weekend.”

And as the both of you eagerly undress each other; as urgent moans, sighs mixed in with soft declarations of love fill your loft bedroom you slowly, gradually forget the jealousy that plagued you earlier tonight.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #vyn richter #mo yi

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Make a Move

➣ Pairing/genre: roommate!Hobi x reader

➣ Premise: You thought ‘Hope’ was a girl, but looking at the hot dude currently claiming to be your roommate, you might be wrong.

➣ warnings/tags: pure fluff, reader gets a lil sick for a minute

➣ word count: 4.6k

➣ a/n: this was a commission by @hobi-gif for Army for AAPI! Thank you so much for commissioning this, I hope you enjoy it! You guys, check out ways to get involved in this awesome cause by clicking the link!

You look down at the application, and back up at the person standing in front of you. Down, then up.

Twice more, just to wrap your mind around the dumbest mistake you’ve ever made.

“Umm…Hope?”

The man fidgeting nervously before you manages a bright smile. “Yep. That’s me!”

Again, you stare down at the application. “I…you’re the one moving in?”

Hoisting the heavy-looking box higher in his arms, the man – Hope if he’s to be believed, offers a strained nod. “Yeah, it’s sort of a nickname…Hoseok. I’m Hoseok.” He looks around, poking his head through the doorway to your small apartment. “Mind if I set this down? It’s kinda heavy…”

You step aside in a daze, watching as Hoseok sweeps inside and sets the box down with a thud on the counter. A moment later another head is peeking inside before carrying in another box.

“Hey, I’m assuming you’re one of the roommates?” The newcomer asks, sweeping some of his ashen-blond hair off his forehead and extending a hand out to you. You take it with some trepidation.

“I am. And you’re Hoseok’s friend?”

“Namjoon. Just stopping in with a few of his things. Oh,” Namjoon waits until Hoseok walks back outside before continuing, speaking to you in a hushed tone. “I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for letting him move in. Ever since our landlord found out we had seven people instead of six, it’s been hard trying to find a place but Hoseok was adamant he be the one to move out. Did want to separate the others-”

“Wait, woah,” you hold up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Seven? Seven people living in one tiny apartment?”

Namjoon tilts his head to one side, brows furrowed. “He didn’t tell you? That’s why he moved out; someone had to. Our apartment has a six person limit, so once our landlord found out Hoseok volunteered to be the one to move out.”

It appears that Hoseok hasn’t told you a lot of things.

“I…no, he didn’t mention that.”

Namjoon moves on, unphased. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for taking him on. It’s nearly impossible to find a place this time of year, and we weren’t sure if you would be chill with having a male roommate, but it really means the world. This way he can stay close to us-”

“Close?”

“Yeah, we live just a few blocks away. He didn’t say that?”

At that moment Hoseok walks through the door, still wearing that sheepish smile that he directs at you.

“No. He must have forgotten to mention that, too.”

Once Namjoon has left and Hoseok gets into organizing all of his things, you set up camp on the couch. Book in hand, you can’t help but assess your new roommate.

A part of you wants to get rid of him, but another part of you is interested to see what might unfold from this strange situation. You’ve never had a male roommate before, and if Namjoon is any representative for what this man’s friends look like…

You suppose it’s not too much of a pain to allow Jung Hoseok to stick around for a little while.

Hoseok hums to himself, occasionally making little sound effects as he puts a bowl away or opens a cupboard. Every once in a while he’ll ask you a question, like, “Is this spot free to use?” or “Are you allergic to anything?”

You’re nearly heading to bed when Hoseok knocks softly on your door. Your rooms are on opposite ends of the apartment, something you find yourself being extremely grateful for tonight. The knowledge that a stranger is chilling in your apartment is enough to have you feeling a little worried.

It’s simple. Sure, Hoseok seems nice enough. Friendly even. But he’s too attractive to be normal.

“What’s up?” You ask, opening your bedroom door to see Hoseok with his arms full of shampoo and other shower items.

Despite the large bottle of Pantene blocking his chest, it’s easy to tell that he doesn’t have a shirt on beneath his robe.

Indeed, the sight before you is enough to have you clutching the doorframe until your knuckles are white in an effort to not gape.

Wearing nothing but basketball shorts and fluffy white robe, Hoseok shuffles from one foot to the other. “Oh, I was just wondering if you had any preference about where I put my things in the bathroom. You know, if the left side is specifically yours or something like that.”

“Huh?” You shake your head, forcing yourself to only look at his eyes. That turns out to be even worse, in some weird twisted way. “Oh, yeah. Well, I tend to put most of my stuff on the left side of the vanity. But you can put your stuff wherever. I’m not worried about that.”

Hoseok nods, taking a step back. He bids you a quiet goodnight before retreating back down the hallway.

A few seconds pass as you remain in your doorway, thinking hard.

No, you’re not worried about sharing a drawer in the bathroom or putting the A/C on a lower setting, as he asked you about earlier.

You’re just worried about the fact that you’ve never found a pair of basketball shorts more attractive than just now.

Basketball shorts paired with nothing but a robe?

“This is gonna be great,” you mumble to yourself, closing your door and leaning against it. Only when you hear the sound of the shower going do you allow yourself to relax. “I’m gonna die.”

2 weeks in

“I’m headed to the store, you need anything?”

You pause, assessing the contents of the fridge. “Um…eggs?”

It’s not very often the two of you are in the apartment at the same time, your schedule being polar opposites. However, it’s always relatively friendly. Still a little awkward, but always cordial.

Hoseok – or Hobi, as he’s repeatedly invited you to call him – scans his little list. “Already on the list. Anything else?”

“You already put eggs on the list? Like, for me?” The two of you by no means share groceries.

Hobi shrugs. “Yeah. I figured you were nearly out since you eat them like every morning.”

“Hey, not every morning-”

“Every weekday morning.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Tell me I’m wrong. I’ll wait.”

You groan. “Yah, just go. I’ll text you if I need anything.” Turning back to the fridge, you utter out, “Annoying little-”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You wait until you hear the door close to let out a sigh. “Huh.” You didn’t even realize that he would notice those kinds of things. It’s a strange feeling, having someone notice even the most mundane parts of your routine.

You…like it?

Opening up a few of the cupboards, you realize that you’re nearly out of bread. You grab your phone, pulling up Hobi’s contact and calling him. He picks up after a couple of rings.

“Hey, did you remember something else?”

“Yeah, would you mind picking up some bread, too?”

“Oh, good one. Um…” you can hear him moving around, and you swear you hear the click of a pen before he speaks up again. “Wheat, right?”

Again, that strange feeling stirs in your chest. “Right.”

2 months in

“I’ve never met anyone as obsessed with skincare as you.”

Hobi chuckles darkly, beginning to apply his night mask to the other side of his face. “I doubt you’ve ever met anyone with such oily skin before, either.”

You lean up against the doorframe, resting your head against the side of the door. Hobi continues applying the crème, looking utterly focused on the task. His forehead scrunches up in little lines as he looks up, rubbing underneath his eyes.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s adorable.

To put the icing on the cake, he begins humming to himself and leaning in closer to the mirror, making you chew on the inside of your cheek. It’s horrible enough that he has to be wildly endearing, but does he really have to be so cute?

It’s exhausting.

“It smells good,” you sigh out, eyes drifting shut. Hobi’s good looks isn’t the only thing that’s been exhausting to you lately. School is trying its best to wreck you and you hate to admit that it’s doing a great job of it.

“You want some?”

Eyes fluttering open at his question, you furrow your brows. Hobi is looking at you in the mirror, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He squeezes out a bit of the night mask onto his finger, turning to you.

“You already washed your face, right?”

“Mm.”

“Good,” he nods more to himself than to you. “Close your eyes.”

Giving him a distrustful look, you realize that you’re too tired to bother bickering with him at the moment. Instead, you close your eyes and hold your breath.

A moment later the cool feeling of Hobi’s fingers dabbing the cream on the tip of your nose. He repeats the action all over your face, his other hand coming to cup your chin as his thumb absentmindedly traces your jaw.

You suddenly feel extremely off balance, swaying on your feet. Hands shooting out to steady yourself, you instinctively cling to the front of Hobi’s sweatshirt. He chuckles lowly, making you tighten your grip.

“Don’t fall over,” he mumbles, beginning to rub the night mask into your skin.

You don’t say anything, settling for an annoyed huff. After a moment, Hobi takes up humming the same tune he was before. The two of you settle into a comfortable daze, your shoulders relaxing as the seconds tick by.

“You know,” Hobi muses as he switches to your right cheek. “We’re pretty good roommates. Don’t you think?”

“Mm. I’m still angry you put ‘Hope’ on your application, though. That was a dirty move.”

Hobi’s laughter has you opening your eyes just to catch the expression of happiness he’s sure to be wearing. Sure enough, his head is thrown back and his heart-shaped smile in on display, the sight tugging at the corners of your lips.

Catching your eye, Hobi smirks. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

You purse your lips, melting a little at the concentrated pout that forms as Hobi resumes applying the night mask. He’s moved up to your forehead now, making your eyes drift shut again.

“I vote you make me French Toast one of these weekends.”

“Oh, and that’ll solve it?”

“No, but it’s a start.”

He chuckles quietly, pausing and then tapping lightly against your cheek. “All done.”

Opening your eyes, you see the slightly confused look in Hobi’s eyes as he squints down at you. “What?”

He blinks. “What?”

You nod at him, “You look confused or something.”

“Oh.”

When he doesn’t answer after a long moment, you step back into the hallway. “Alright…I’m heading to bed. Thanks, Hobi.”

His brows are furrowed as he turns back to the mirror, the confusion only growing. “Night.”

3 months in

You’ve quickly come to learn that there are pros and cons to having Hoseok as your roommate.

One very strong pro is the fact that he’s a clean freak. You swear you haven’t had to worry about vacuuming for the past three months, he always beats you to it.

“What are you doing?”

He pauses mid-fold, eyes wide as he looks up at you. “…folding.”

“My laundry?”

He glances down at the shirt in his hands as though just realizing that these are your clothes. “I…yeah. Yeah, I am. It’s just, you left your basket out here by the couch so I figured I might as well fold it and put it away if you’re gonna leave it out here.”

The passive aggressive tone in his voice rolls off your shoulders, knowing that he didn’t intend it that way. It’s obvious to tell that something is on his mind as he continues to you’re your shirt and place it atop a neat pile beside him.

You find yourself sitting cross-legged across from him and silently joining in on the impromptu folding party. Once you finish, Hobi clears his throat and avoids eye contact with you.

Perhaps it has to do with the fact that he accidentally grabbed the same pair of lacy black underwear at the same time as you, which ensued in an awkward match of tug-of-war that you quickly won once he realized what he was holding.

“So, the guys are doing a thing tonight.”

You blink, pulling the folded laundry toward you and getting up. “…ok.”

Hobi’s face lights up in a grin, and he jumps to his feet. “Really? You’ll come?”

Perhaps it’s the utter joy you see in his eyes or the way he’s currently shaking your shoulders and causing the socks on the top of your pile to tumble to the ground, but you burst out laughing.

“Hoseok!” You shout through your laughter. “You didn’t even invite me!”

He immediately stops shaking you after that, scrambling for some form of a response. Swiping one of the pairs of socks that slipped to the ground, he kneels down on one knee and looks up at you with a giddy grin.

“Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to visit my friends tonight?” With no shortage of sound effects, he offers up the socks as though proposing to you with a priceless diamond ring.

“You’re an idiot.”

Hoseok’s smile only grows. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Hobi’s light knock on your door goes unnoticed as you slumber on, completely dead to the world. After you had put your laundry away, you felt a wave of exhaustion overtake you.

He knocks again, and this time you rouse just enough to grunt out something incoherent. He slowly opens the door, poking his head inside.

“You still gonna come with me, sleepyhead?”

His chipper voice makes you wince, your head pounding. “Mm, jus gimme…” you close your eyes again as the dull light filtering in through your blinds is enough to send you spinning. “…a sec.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and you think that Hobi must have left. A second later, however, you hear him padding across your floor.

“Are you sick?” He answers his own question as he places his hand against your forehead. “Oh, jagiya, you’re burning up.”

The pet name has your temperature rising a bit more. “Mm fine.”

Hobi chuckles softly, taking care to be quiet. “Have you eaten? Where’s your water bottle?” They’re all rhetorical questions apparently, because moments later he’s scooping your water bottle off the floor and tiptoeing back out of your room.

After what feels like hours later, Hobi sidles back into your room with a full water bottle, some soup he must have microwaved, and another glass of liquid. It’s steaming, the scent making you scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“What…” you can hardly muster up the energy to finish your sentence. Hobi perches on the edge of your bed, carefully placing everything on your nightstand.

“It’s medicine. Drink it, and it’ll help. But first you need to sit up.”

Easier said than done. Your body is exhausted, and your arms shake a bit as you attempt to scoot back against the headboard. Cheeks burning a brighter red, Hobi thankfully doesn’t comment on it. He just patiently readjusts your pillows and tucks your hair behind your ears with meticulous movements that have you smiling softly.

“Ok,” he sighs out once that’s been taken care of. “Now, eat some soup…” his words trail off as he hands the bowl off to you. He watches as you bring the spoon to your lips, mumbling, “Blow, it’s hot.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you follow his instructions. Once you’ve eaten over half of the soup and feel too full to continue, he hands you the steaming cup that has you scrunching your nose up all over again.

“C’mon,” he urges, “my mom used to give this stuff to me all the time when I was a kid. It works like a charm, promise.”

“Mhm.”

“What?” He crosses his arms, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”

You shrug, mindful of the full contents of the glass. “It’s just easier said than done, that’s all.”

“Here, I’ll take a sip to show you that’s it’s not bad!” Reaching for the cup, you burst out into a fit of laughter as Hobi stares down at the liquid with unabashed terror. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “Right…just one sip…”

Blowing across the surface carefully, he sacrifices his tastebuds. The instant he swallows, he thrusts the cup back into your hands and dives off the bed. “Ach!” He rushes out of the room, no doubt heading for the kitchen. Indeed, a moment later you hear the faucet running and wonder if he just decided to shove his head under the running water instead of wasting time on grabbing a cup from the cupboard.

With your water bottle on hand, you attempt to chug the medicine. It’s horrid, making you gag, but you continue until the contents are drained. You’ve just managed to drink some water to rid yourself of the lingering taste when you hear Hobi’s phone ring.

“Hey hyung,” he’s still in the kitchen, but you can hear him clearly. “Oh, yeah…I don’t think we’re gonna make it. No, it’s not that, she said she’d come.”

You freeze, holding the still-warm cup close to your chest. For some reason, your stomach does a little flip when you hear the way Hobi’s tone changes as he speaks about you. It’s infinitely softer, something you don’t recall hearing before.

“She took a nap and woke up with a fever-” he pauses. “Yeah, I just gave her medicine. But she needs to rest. She’s exhausted. What? Ugh, really Jin? I’m not-” The sound of Hobi shuffling about has you leaning closer to the open door, trying to hear what he’s saying. His voice is much quieter when he speaks next, but you can still hear bits and pieces of what he’s saying. “I can’t just make a move on her while she’s sick, that’s unethical!”

Clapping a hand over your mouth before he can hear you snort, your eyes widen. Make a move?

On you?

“Yah, quit it. Tell everyone I say hey, I’ve gotta go.” Again there’s a pause, quickly followed by an annoyed hiss. “See, this is why I never tell you anything.”

He quickly says his goodbyes after that, and you scramble to appear normal despite your pounding heart. You hear Hobi’s sigh from the kitchen, and you wish you could know what he was thinking.

“Alright,” Hobi calls, heading back into your room. The second he enters you feel as though you’re seeing him for the first time. “Let’s get it- oh, you already finished it?”

You blink, suddenly blinded by the sight of his adoring smile. As he settles down on the edge of your bed, you manage a feeble nod.

“Jagi,” again with the pet name, “you look exhausted. Let me take the dishes and how about you go back to sleep?”

Despite the fact that you literally live in the same apartment, the thought of Hobi leaving you alone in your room has you stalling. “Uh, who called?”

There’s a flicker of panic that’s quickly replaced with an easy smile. “Jin hyung, he was wondering where we were. Don’t worry, I told him we weren’t gonna be able to make it.”

You’ve heard plenty about Jin – truthfully about all of Hobi’s friends. You were excited to meet them tonight, after hearing so many stories.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, still clinging to your glass. “You can still go, if you want.”

Hobi looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Why would I…? No, I’ll stay here with you. Can’t leave a sickie on their own, you know that.”

Groaning, roll your eyes. “I feel like an idiot.”

“If you’re an idiot, I’m an idiot.”

You snort, setting your glass down before you cause an accident. “Isn’t it, ‘if you’re a bird, I’m a bird’?”

Hoseok shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. “Close enough.”

He holds your gaze for a few seconds too long, but neither one of you look away first. Instead you bunch up your blankets in your fists and offer him a crooked smile. “Thanks, Hobi.”

His eyes linger on your smile, his lips mirroring it. “Anytime.”

4 months in

Nothing has changed, and yet everything has.

Ever since you fell ill, you’ve been jumpy. Anytime Hobi accidentally brushes up against you as he reaches for something in the kitchen, whenever he knocks on your door, even when he calls you from the grocery store. It all makes you jump and sends your heart racing.

“You’re so dramatic.”

You look up at Yuri, your most brutally honest friend. “…ouch?”

She shakes her head, sinking down lower in her seat across from you. You keep boxing up your leftover food to take home, wondering if Hobi would like it.

“I mean it. You’ve been freaking out about this guy for over a month now without doing anything about it.”

You pause, looking at Yuri with wide, pleading eyes. “What am I supposed to do? He’s my roommate!”

“So what? Your lease is up in a few weeks, isn’t it? If it backfires, just move out.”

You snort. “Easier said than done. I can’t just up and move whenever I like, you know.”

“You can’t or you don’t want to?”

“Shut up.”

“I refuse. Now,” Yuri checks the time on her phone. “tell me what you like about him.”

“I never said-” you sputter, but Yuri holds up a hand and cuts you off.

“Actions speak louder than words. He’s literally your background on your home screen.”

Ok, that sounds like a bit much. It’s true, though. A week ago Hobi finally got to take you out to meet his friends. Together you went on a midnight hike (something you’d honestly never do again) and found a breathtaking view at the top. His friends, specifically Jimin and Taehyung, had practically shoved the two of you together for an impromptu photoshoot under the night sky.

The photos are a little blurry and dark, but you love them. Enough to add one as your background. “But you can’t actually see us in the picture, it’s just pretty-”

“Sure it is. You two make a cute couple.”

“W-we do?”

Yuri jumps up, clapping her hands and startling a couple just a few tables down. “Aha! See, you do have feelings for him!”

“Ok, ok,” you hold up your hands in surrender. “Just sit down.”

Once she’s taken her seat again and apologized loud enough for the couple she scared to hear her, you lean in close over the table. She rubs her hands together, looking every bit the scheming friend she is.

“Alright, let’s plot, shall we?”

Hobi checks the window for the eighth time in under five minutes, brushing the curtains aside to see if your car is in the lot yet. It’s not.

“C’mon Jung,” he rolls his neck, bouncing on his feet. “Calm down. Keep it chill. Everything’s fine.”

Everything is not fine.

Things haven’t been fine for months now, something he’s been able to deny to an impressive level. Last weeks, however, the lie came to an end.

His friends loved you. Like, ranted and raved about how funny and cool you were until he was worried he needed to organize an intervention. Then, the icing on the cake.

Yoongi had grabbed him while you were hiking back down, sandwiched between Jin and Jungkook. He nodded down at you, turning a knowing eye to Hobi.

“So…when’s that gonna happen?”

Hobi played dumb, frowning at Yoongi. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hoseok, c’mon.”

You laughed at Taehyung, who jogged up ahead. He was quickly joined by Jungkook. Hobi’s pretty sure his heart stopped beating as you turned around, searching for him. Once your eyes found his, your smile widened.

Yoongi laughed at his side. “You’re whipped, and you don’t even realize it.”

Indeed he was. Dangerously so, if he was going off of the amount of times he’s knocked on your door to ask you out only to change his story at the very last moment to ask you something stupid instead. You never seemed to mind, just laughing at his strange questions and teasing him mercilessly.

“Ok,” Hobi whispers to himself, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’ve got this. Just rip it off like a Band-Aid. Quick and to the point.” He tilts his head to one side. “But not the painful part. No pain.”

He’s in the middle of his pep talk when the sound of your key in the lock alerts him to your return. Hobi is standing in the middle of the living room, looking like an idiot. Naturally, he shoves his hands in his pockets. Yeah, that makes him look less like an idiot.

The second the door opens and you step into the apartment, every thought eddies out of Hobi’s mind.

You freeze, not expecting Hobi to be standing in the middle of the living room impersonating a lamp when you got home.

“Hi…?” Hobi swallows at the sound of your voice, watching your every move as you slowly lift up the bag of leftovers. “I brought home leftovers if you want some…”

“I need you to go out with me.”

Now you’re really frozen, staring up at Hobi as his eyes widen at his own words.

“What? What for?”

“For me.”

You slowly close the door behind you, setting the food down on the counter before turning to face Hobi again. “For you?”

He nods, a panicked look in his eyes. “Yes. For me.”

“Hobi, I don’t understand. Do you need a plus one or something for an event? Is that what it is?”

Removing his hands from his pockets and taking a step towards you, Hobi shakes his head. “What? No, I need- I need you.”

It’s a good thing you already set the food down. “Me?” You squeak out, looking your roommate up and down as he takes another step.

“Us.”

Clearly there’s been a communication error. Hobi brushes his hair back from his face, chewing on his bottom lip before coming to a stop before you.

“Us,” he repeats, voice low. “I need us to be a thing.”

“O-oh.” That’s all you can manage as you try to recall if Hobi has ever looked at you like this before. It’s hard to contain yourself when you realize that he has, however he’s always been quick to mask it with something else. Or, more often than not, a silly question.

“Will- can you…” he stops, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Without his gaze on you, you gain a bit of courage and raise a hand to cup his cheek. His eyes fly open, and he offers you a shy smile. “Do you want to go out with me? On a date?”

Craning your neck, you hold your breath and plant a kiss on his cheek. You delight in the way he instantly flushes, garnering more courage by the second.

“Yes.” Then you arch a brow. “I have one condition, though.”

Hobi’s eyes are half closed as he looks down at you, appearing as though he’s slipped into some euphoric realm. “Hmm, anything.”

“I demand French Toast.”

Dissolving into a fit of laughter, Hobi sinks to the ground, taking you down with him. You protest, but not too much. Holding you tightly, Hobi subsides in his laughter enough to wink down at you. “French Toast it is.”

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parkerslatte · 3 years ago

Text

Years Passed [Chapter Three]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Part Summary: After Spencer asks Y/N our for coffee, the two share about their unlucky love lives.

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of maeve, mentions of surgery

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***

CHAPTER THREE: CASE CLOSED

In the days following since Spencer showed up at Y/N’s apartment, she had been quite lonely. Harper’s school had started back up so she was gone the majority of the day leaving the house in silence. The constant giggles of her daughter were absent for six of the twenty four hours. Of course, Y/N took this as an opportunity to finish a commission she had been working on these last few weeks. The smell of paint was evident in the air causing Y/N to open all the windows around her. Y/N enjoyed painting very much but she missed the smaller version of her by her side, questioning everything she did and copying it to her best ability.

The slip of paper that Spencer’s phone number was written on was sitting not too far away from Y/N and she would find herself occasionally glancing over to it. She did want to call Spencer but she didn’t want to seem too eager, and besides, he was working a case, there was no way he had the time for her.

Seeing Spencer again wasn’t exactly on Y/N’s bucket list. Ever since she moved back six months ago, she hadn’t run into him once and he never even crossed her mind. However, once she saw him just days ago, she thought about him at least once a day. None of the thoughts were exactly bad, she just wondered if he had a family. If he was still interested in the same thing he was thirteen years ago. If he was the same Spencer she loved thirteen years ago. Shaking her head clear of any thoughts of Spencer, Y/N continued to paint the canvas that stood in front of her while softly singing along to the music that drowned out the silence.

Y/N had only been painting for what she guess was another fifteen minutes before her phone started to ring from across the room. Groaning, as she had just gotten into a rhythm of painting, she walked over and looked at the caller ID. The number didn’t have a name but she recognised it - it was Spencer’s number.

“Hello?” Y/N answered.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Spencer.”

“Spencer, hi. What’s up?”

“I was just calling because we caught the guy who abducted Ava.” Spencer said.

“That’s good. Is she okay?” Y/N questioned quickly.

Spencer paused, “She’s alive, she’s in hospital currently. If we didn’t get to her in time there was a chance that she wouldn’t make it.”

“But she is alive.” Y/N clarified.

“Yes, and the doctors say that she will make a recovery.”

“Thank god.” Y/N said, placing her hand over her heart.

“You okay?” Spencer questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad that Ava is okay.” Y/N replied.

“We all are.” Spencer responded.

The two fell into a long silence, normally if this happened someone would hang up however neither of them did. Y/N wanted to say something but she didn’t know what to say. She did want to continue speaking to Spencer but she didn’t exactly know how to approach the topic. Luckily she didn’t have to say anything.

“Do you want to go and get coffee, um, with me?” Spencer asked.

“Um, sure, when?” Y/N asked, suddenly feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“Now? Only if you’re not doing anything, if you are we could always reschedule and have coffee another time.” Spencer rambled.

Y/N couldn’t help but let a small smile appear on her face, “Coffee sounds great Spencer, text me where.”

“Okay, okay, I will, I’ll see you soon Y/N.” Spencer replied, suddenly sounding perkier.

“See you soon.” Y/N responded before hanging up

***

As Y/N stepped through the doors to the cafe, she immediately looked around for Spencer. She found him sitting at the back corner of the cafe. As their eyes met, a wide smile spread across Spencer’s face as Y/N began to walk over. When she was finally standing at the table Spencer’s gaze didn’t move from Y/N for a second.

“Hi.” Y/N greeted with a smile.

“Hi.” Spencer responded, his smile that Y/N could recognise anywhere still evident on his face.

Y/N sat in the seat across from Spencer and got comfortable. Once she looked down she noticed that there were two cups of coffee on the table.

“I don’t know if you still like your coffee like that but if you don’t I can always get you another cup.” Spencer said nervously.

Y/N smiled, touched at the simple action, “You still remember my order?”

Spencer felt his face heat up slightly, “Yeah, I do.”

Y/N smiled at him, causing Spencer to clear his throat, “So how have you been?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve been good,” Y/N responded, “I’ve been settling in since I moved back here six months ago from England. Normally I would settle in quicker but Harper took a little longer to adjust.”

“Why did you move back?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I loved living in England but being away from my family and friends was always hard and I couldn’t exactly afford to keep coming back and I couldn’t keep taking Harper out of school to have a small holiday to visit her family. I wanted her to get to know them in person not just through a screen,” Y/N explained, “Harper has loved being around her family since we moved.”

“She seems great,” Spencer said, “Harper that is.”

Y/N smiled at the thought of her daughter, “She is. Harper is the greatest thing to ever happen to me, I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“How old is she?” Spencer asked, genuinely interested.

“Seven, she’s eight in a couple weeks,” Y/N said, “I can’t help but feel a little sad about it. Like I know she’s going to grow up but these years seem to have flown by. I feel like it was only a week ago she learnt how to walk, now she’s practically running everywhere,” Y/N was lost in thought for a quick moment before she snapped herself out of it, “Anyway, that’s enough about me for now, how’s the FBI been treating you?”

“It’s been treating me fine.” Spencer said, the grin on his face faltering.

Y/N narrowed her eyes momentarily, “Are you sure? I may not be a profiler Spencer but I can tell that you’ve been through a lot,” Y/N said as Spencer made eye contact, “You wanna know how I know that?” Spencer nodded slightly, “It’s your eyes, they used to be so innocent, now they’re filled with sadness.”

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking eye contact, “I, um, I’ve seen a lot and I’ve been through a lot.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through,” Y/N said sympathetically, “Thirteen years working for the FBI. I can’t even wrap my head around how long it’s been.”

“Me neither,” Spencer agreed, “You have a sadness in your eyes too.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N questioned.

“You have sadness in your eyes too,” Spencer repeated, “The only time it disappeared was when you were talking about Harper.”

Before Y/N could stop herself, she nodded her head, confirming Spencer’s comment, “I do. For the last eight years everyone has commented on it - around this time of year too.”

Spencer could tell that Y/N was abou to tell him why she felt the way she did but he was quick to interrupt her, “You don’t need to tell me Y/N.”

“No, it’s fine, seriously, practically everyone knows,” Y/N said before taking a deep breath, “My husband and Harper’s father, Owen, well he was in an accident and had to have surgery. We were told that there was a seventy-five percent chance the surgery would be successful. It was successful for the most part, he was like himself, always around Harper, playing with her.”

Y/N found herself smiling at the memory of Harper playing with her father, “However, after a couple of weeks, he began to find himself getting more tired than usual. He just thought that it was the stress of work but he began to get worse to the point that he couldn’t get out of bed without him being in constant pain.” Y/N stopped her story for a moment, she never had a problem explaining this story before, but being the time of year it was, she was having a hard time.

“He was on so much medication just so he could actually walk around. Both of us knew that he didn’t have long left. I never wanted to make peace with that, I kept denying the inevitable saying that he was going to get better and we would be the happy family I always wanted. Deep down I knew that would never happen but I couldn’t help but lie to myself,” Y/N took a deep breath, by now her eyes were glossy with tears.

“The one thing Owen wanted was to make it to Harper’s first birthday,” Y/N said, “He died four days before.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Spencer said sincerely, he contemplated reaching across the table to take her hand and give her a bit of comfort but thought better of it.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, “Normally when I tell people about Owen, I don’t normally get this upset about it, at least I don’t anymore. But since it’s coming up to the anniversary of his death, I guess I just can’t help myself from feeling this way. Sorry for dumping all of that on you, I don’t know why I did it.”

“Y/N, it’s fine, seriously.” Spencer said.

Y/N gave Spencer a tight lipped smile, “So what about you Spencer Reid, do you have a family?”

Spencer shook his head, “If you mean an actual family as in a wife and kids, I don’t.”

“Why’s that? Do you ever want a family?” Y/N asked.

Spencer nodded, “I’d like nothing more in the world,” He said, “You don’t mind if I talk about something personal do you?”

“I mean I just did so I’m sure it’s perfectly reasonable for you to share too.” Y/N said.

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking, “Well a few years ago I had a girlfriend, Maeve. She was being stalked so we only communicated through phone calls,” Spencer began to explain, “We never saw each other but I fell in love with her. The only time I saw her was when she was killed in front of me by her stalker,” Spencer paused, “I thought that when we could eventually see each other then we could start a family, get married, have kids. Of course that could never happen but I could only think of what would’ve been.”

“I’m sorry Spence,” Y/N said, unconsciously reaching across the table and gently placed her hand on top of his. Neither Y/N nor Spencer thought any different of it and Spencer squeezed her hand as a silent thank you.

“I haven’t really felt a connection to anyone after Maeve, not enough to fall in love with.” Spencer said.

Y/N nodded in agreement, “Ever since Owen died, I haven’t really had a long term relationship, none of them lasted more than a few months at most. Some of them just thought of it as a fling, some of them couldn’t handle the responsibility of being a parent and some of them were scared off by the thought of me being a mother.”

“You’ll find the right person eventually.” Spencer said.

“And you will too Spencer, and you’ll get to start your family.” Y/N said, offering a small smile to which Spencer returned with one of his own.

Looking down at her phone, Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, “Is that the time? I’ve got to go now, I need to pick Harper up from school.”

“Of course.” Spencer said, removing his hand from Isla’s after he had noticed that they were still connected.

Y/N stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder before turning back to Spencer, “This was fun, we should do it again soon but I’m buying the coffee next time.”

Spencer let out a quiet chuckle, “That’s only if you’re here before me.”

“Oh I will be,” Y/N said, “I’ll see you soon Spence.”

Y/N gave him a parting smile before turning and walking out the cafe to go and pick up her daughter.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur @happymangospot @beepbooptoop @ilovespencerreidmarryme @spencesoulmate25 @bloodyxheaven @nyx2021 @morganwilliams @malindacath @pastelbabygirl19 @doctorspenceryeet @reidsbookclub @pinkdiamond1016 (will be continued in reblog)

SERIES TAGLIST

(Will be added in reblog)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years ago

Text

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter. I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her. It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point. I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test. It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again. At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.” I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it. Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide. I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead. She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca. She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After. It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time. But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out. As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could. And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way. Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust. It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that. Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek. He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger. It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used. We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2. Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics. Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case. The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out! With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him. It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty. I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL. Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work. Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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kaz11283 · 4 years ago

Note

I really like the prompt list you reblogged it’s got some good stuff. What about 37. “Because I love you god damn it!” with Loki if you are still needing inspiration.

37) Because I Love You God Damn It!

~~~~

The Secret Is Out

Characters: the Avengers Bunch, Loki, Thor, Clint

Warnings: Dirty words, slight angst

Summary: after putting your life in the line for a teammate you accidentally let a big secret slip.

Announcements: I will always need insperation and requests! They feed my soul! Haha. I'm not gonna lie. Im skipping back and forth on my requests though. I have a really good story line for one but its just so emotional(thats were Im hoping it goes at least) that I didnt want to write it tonight and put my self in a mood. So instead I guess im goimg with a form of anger? Meh. Anyways... I absolutly love love love everything from you guys! The reblogs, likes, and comments are amazing and I am very greatful for all the love I am getting!!!! 💚💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~

The fight had been rough but not as rough as you were feeling in the moment. You had gotten serverly hurt and had been in the medbay for about a week now and you had a longer road ahead. There had been an explosion and instead of turning to run away you had ran toward one of your team members that had been to distracted to realize what was going on, you had successfully gotten him shoved out of the way but you had taken the brunt of the blast.

Now you were laying here staring at the celing trying to stay distracted as Bruce and Tony looked at your completely shaddered knee and the burns up your leg. Fingers crossed that they would have good news soon.

"Well as of right now kid your out of commission." Tony said helping you sit back up.

"Meaning?" You pulled one of the pillows down so that you could sit up without being uncomfortable.

"Meaning right now, the way it all looks, your gonna be stuck in the bed until it fully heals and after wards theres really no way to tell if your going to be able to work in the field again." Burce said looking at the xrays again. "And your gonna have to have surgery in order to put all the right pieces back in the right places, but we cant really do that until some of the burns heal or at least start to heal. Its gonna be a long drawn out process unfortunately." He sighed setting the charts back down and walking over to you.

"Fucking hell! You mean I'm gonna be pushing paper work? I might as well go work in a damn office with four white walls and a poster that says 'hang in there, its almost Friday'." You placed your head in your hands.

"Hey! At least our paper work is more exciting than just running numbers." Tony said placing a hand on your back. He had been like a fsther to you, taking you in when you didnt have anywhere else to turn except the streets. Your own family had abandoned you at a young age and you had been leaning toward a dark path until Tony. "Besides with your expertise you dont have to sit behind a desk, your fingers arent blown off, you can still hack into stuff I'm sure."

"Tony we had a deal when I moved in. No hacking but you would train me and I could actually do good. Now look at me."

"I said no hacking the good guys, and if I remember correctly you were the one jumping close to the bomb not away from. I hate to be this way y/n but the only one to blame is yourself on this one."

"He would have been worst off than I am if not killed. I think I did the right thing. Besides you would have done the same thing if you had been closer." You sighed.

"Honey the diffrence with that is I have a supersuit, you wear a skin tight, spandex one peice, that I'm not a fan of." He laughted. Bruce had went to go get you some more pain killers to shoot into your IV.

"Tony if I were you I would shut up. Your starting to sound like you might actually love me, might even say your starting to act like a dad." You laughed pulling him into a hug.

"Shut it kid, cant let the others know I have a soft spot for the hacker orphan kid i took in all those years ago now can I." He said kissing the top of your head. "Do you need anything else before the drugs kick in and you pass out again?"

"Yes, can you please bring me my phone charger, laptop, and that really fluffy blanket that you and Pep got for me for Christmas."

"Dont ask to much of me now."

"I wouldnt be asking if you would just let me stay in my room. I hate it down here. I wanna be were the people are." You were starting to get loopy from whatever Bruce had given you.

"Ok little mermaid, get some rest I'll get your stuff." He laughed walking out the door letting you fall into a restless sleep.

You didnt know how long you hade been asleep but you woke up with a groan trying to sit up so you could atleast stretch your back from laying in one spot for to long. You flopped back down dramatically with a sigh. You could sense someine else in the room with you, you always knew when he was around.

"You dont have to hide in the shadows Loki. Your more than welcome to keep me company, you should know that by now." You smiled as the prince walked over and sat in the chair beside you. You could tell he hadnt been sleeping, his hair was fixed as always but his clothes looked worst for wear. He had on a plain black shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants, both of with had wrinkles in them either from tossing and turning or from not being changed in a few days.

"Whats wrong? And dont pull that 'nothing is wrong dear. I'm absolutly fine.' Bullshit. You look horrible." You reatched out to grab his hand. What you and Loki had was diffrent. You didnt just see his as a friend, he didnt just see you as that either though. You had spent many nights sitting up with the silver tounge man many nights laying on the couch watching movies, reading, talking about each of your pasts. He knew more about you than even Tony did.

"I'm still currently trying to wrap my head around why you pushed me out of the way and took the blow when you had a chance of dying from it. You shouldnt have been so thick headed my dear." He took your hand and raised it to his lips kissing the top of your hand.

"Loki." You sighed rolling your head to look back up at the celing. "You would have been hurt alot wordt than I am now, that blast could have killed you."

"I am a god y/n, that blast wouldnt have caused me nearly as much damage as it did you." His voice raised slightly.

"Thats what you think. You think that because you are "immortal" that you can take anything thats thrown at you. That no one really cares about you, that you wouldnt be missed? So why not try to take a blow from a bomb? My god your so stupid sometimes."

"I know I can. Norns y/n I've jumped into space, been brain washed, tried to take over New York, gotten smashed around by the Hulk. I was raised with Thor, he doesnt really go easy on a person. What I'm saying is I dont understand why you, a mear midguardian, would sacrifice themselves for me. If anything would have happened-"

"Nothing did happen though. I'm fine-"

"You have steel sticking from your leg, theres no telling when or even if you'll be able to walk again, and there are highly server burns that will leave scares. You cannot sit there and tell me that you are fine."

"Your right it does suck that I'm jot gonna be able to pull off shorts or a bikini anymore."

"This isnt a joke y/n. You almost died!" He finally yelled.

"And i would do it a thousand times over if that ment saving your damn ass again!" You shouted back.

"Why though?! Why me y/n? I've done horrible things, killed people! My life is meaningless." Tears had sprang to his eyes as he looked away.

"Because I love you God damn it!" You stopped suddenly your jaw dropping at the admission that you hadnt ment for him to hear. His head jerked back to you.

"What?" Shock was all over his face as he stood to walk closer to you. "What did you just say?"

"Because I love you Loki Odinson. Because if you were to die I dont think I would be able to go on living. Because even if you see all the bad things that you've done I can look pass that amd see all the good that you are doing." You reached up placing a hand on his cheek and wiping away a tear.

"I love you too y/n. I have since the day I met you. The girl that didnt care what anyone said when she spent time with me. The girl that can see through every face i put on. I love you so much darling." He placed his hand on your face and leaning down gently kissing your lips.

It felt like you thought it always should you felt electricity run through your body and the two of you connected. It was like getting a breath after not being able to for so long. He pulled away smiling at you.

"What do we tell the others?" He asked laying on with bed with you being easy with your leg. He placed his arm around your middle and pulled you as close as he could.

"I honestly dont care what we tell them. They can figure it out themseves for all I care." You smiled lacing your fingers with his, you yawned placing your head on his shoulder closing your eyes.

"Sleep now my Dove, I will be here when you wake." He felt your gentle breath slow as you fell asleep, the rhythm you of your breath lulling him into his own sleep.

Tony and Bruce walked in the next morning stopping dead at the sight in front of them. You and Loki were still cuddled on the small bed sleeping peacefully.

"Should we wake them up?" Bruce asked looking at Tony.

"Na, let them sleep. Dont want to let them know that we know." Tony saod grabbing Bruce's arm and turning to walk back out of the door.

~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki avengers #loki daily #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki request #loki masterlist #loki x you #lokilaufeyson #loki one shot #loki x y/n #loki friggason

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greatbigbellies · 3 years ago

Text

NEW 2021 commission info!

Writing comms, CLOSED Voice comms, OPEN (3 slots remaining)

Writing commission info HERE

Hi, I’m greatbigbellies, and I write kink fics! Specifically pertaining to belly kinks such as pregnancy, stuffing, weight gain, and feederism. My speciality is on the more wholesome side, but I can also do some slightly explicit stuff. The main thing I don’t do is actual sex scenes or anything involving gentalia in any way, but all the foreplay that leads up to it is fair game.

Specifically… kinks I will write for include:

pregnancy, including mpreg, fpreg, nbpreg

hyperpreg, from multiples to extremely overdue

weight gain, small or extreme, fast or slow

stuffing, realistic or unrealistic

feederism

belly worship

vore, soft only, micro/macro or same size

digestion noises

any combination of the above

Genres I’m confident in include:

slice of life

whump

general wholesome content

kink focused content

fanfiction

Things I will not write under any circumstances include:

non-con

incest

underage

aging up of established child characters

beastiality of any kind

birth

unbirth

breast pregnancy

scat/watersports

excessive farting

diapers

I reserve the right to decline a commission for any reason. Please be nice to me I’m but a humble queer.

If you’re interested in something not listed above, just ask? Just remember my specialty is tummies. Asking for a foot fetish fic from me will probably get lukewarm results at best.

My pricing is $1 per 100 words, with a $5 (500 word) minimum and a $35 (3,500 word) max per commission. If you commission me once and want me to continue a previous piece, I’ll gladly take that on as a separate commission! I accept paypal only, and take 100% payment upfront. Once the money is transferred, I’ll get to work.

Some final notes:

My turnaround time will vary based on the length of the work, but generally expect two week’s time max. I’ll communicate with you if something will make it take longer. Life sometimes gets in the way.

I’ll give your piece an up-to-50 word buffer for it to wrap up cleanly. No sense in awkwardly cutting something off mid scene because I hit the word limit.

Once you’ve contacted me and gotten a commission slot, I’ll send you a link to a form to fill out to help me tailor the content to your desires. The form will take 5-10 minutes to complete but will really help a LOT in getting you what you want out of the commission!

If something happens that will cause me to take longer than two weeks to complete a commission, I’ll offer to cancel the commission and provide a refund should the buyer decide they don’t want to wait. Otherwise, there are no refunds once a piece is started.

Examples of my work can be found here, here, and here!

I don’t currently offer private written commissions, though you can have your piece listed as anonymous if desired.

At this time I’m opening 2 commission slots. DM me if interested!

Also just as a general heads up, I plan to make some changes to how I do commissions when the new year hits (2022, in case you find this post up far into the future).

Mainly, I’m going to extend my turnaround time to a whole month, up from 2 weeks, because I tend to only write when the mood hits, which results in a far better, less phoned in product. As a result of extending turnaround time, I’ll also be able to take more commissions at a time, so ultimately this change will make commissions easier to get, at the cost of needing some extra patience.

I’ll also be raising my prices by 25% come the new year, so it’ll be $1.25 every 100 words instead of $1.00. This is because I put a lot of thought and care into my commissions, and I feel that it still strikes a balance of being accessibly priced while compensating me for my work!

Voice commission info HERE

Additionally, I also do voice commissions! These are short 5-15 minute audios with a focus on kink scenarios. Examples can be found HERE and HERE!

I won’t voice straight sex scenes, or grunt rhythmically into my mic. Think more foreplay than hardcore phone sex.

I am a trans woman, and my voice is a little deeper, but I don’t mind voicing male characters if that’s what you want! Just specify when you contact me.

My Do’s and Don’ts are pretty similar to my writing, but in case you scrolled past that, here it is again...

Specifically… kinks I will voice for include:

pregnancy, including mpreg, fpreg, nbpreg

hyperpreg, from multiples to extremely overdue

weight gain, small or extreme, fast or slow

stuffing, realistic or unrealistic

feederism

belly worship

vore, soft only, micro/macro or same size

any combination of the above

Things I will not voice for under any circumstances include:

non-con

incest

underage

aging up of established child characters

beastiality of any kind

birth

unbirth

breast pregnancy

scat/watersports

excessive farting

diapers

As with writing, my best content is tummy/pregnancy based, but if you want something else I’ll try, just know I’m uninformed on what makes it hot so I might miss the mark.

An important note about voice commissions specifically is that I only record when I’m alone at home, meaning by ability to produce audio stuff can me spotty when other people are around a lot, so it might take a day or two for a comm to get recorded. There unfortunately isn’t much I can do about that.

Pricing for voice commissions is a little different. I basically offer them in 5, 10, and 15 minute chunks. 5 minutes is $20, 10 minutes is $35, and 15 minutes is $50. Private voice commissions are an option, but cost an extra $10. I accept paypal only, and take 100% payment upfront. Once the money is transferred, I’ll get to work.

Final notes...

If something happens that will cause me to take longer than one week to complete a voice commission, I’ll offer to cancel the commission and provide a refund should the buyer decide they don’t want to wait. Otherwise, there are no refunds once a piece is payed for.

At this time I’m opening 3 voice commission slots. DM me if interested!

#not bellies #commissions #writing #voice commissions #long post

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xenteaart · 4 years ago

Text

Apocalypse Chronicles

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Getting stuck in the apocalypse certainly has its ups and downs, and this is somewhat of a dairy with little glimpses into the life you two had.

Warnings: mentions of vomit

Note: This is sort of a part 2 to this fic. Also you can check out my other fics on this Commission AU right here!

Hopefully, this is a rollercoaster.

Day 548.

You and Five were currently on your way… somewhere. You rarely had any particular destination in mind, if you were being honest. Mainly, you were just moving from one place to another, seeking shelter and looking for food and other essentials such as clothes, medical supplies and many other things, most of which were really hard to come by.

It’s been a very long day, and a fairly hard one as well because the weather seemed to get harsher with each passing mile and moving one foot in front of the other was beginning to feel like an impossible task. So, since all of your focus and concentration went into walking, naturally, you’d stopped listening to what Five was saying about thirty minutes ago. Funnily enough, it took him that long to notice you completely zoning out and ignoring his passionate ranting.

“Hey! Have you been listening?” he asked bitterly, mostly just annoyed by the fact he’d been wasting his breath.

You quickly snapped out of your daze and blinked a few times.

“Charming.” Five added as he rolled his eyes. It was this very moment when you realized something and couldn’t help but smile widely, and he raised one eyebrow in confusion as to what could be making you so happy right now.

“Your voice is starting to crack,” you pointed out. He clearly didn’t expect you to say that, and it caught him completely off guard, making him forget he was mad at you mere seconds ago.

“My boy is turning into a man!” you exclaimed; tenderness, pride and just a tiny bit of sarcasm radiating from your voice. Five shook his head and scoffed at your observation as he was trying to conceal his embarrassment; rather unsuccessfully, you must say.

Getting stuck with a slightly older girl and going through puberty was, in his opinion, beyond humiliating.

You wrapped your arm around his shoulder and squeezed it lightly, pulling him closer as the sound of your joyful giggling was filling the air.

“Can’t wait till you start getting facial hair too,” you teased him and immediately felt his elbow kick your ribcage, the impact too mild to leave a bruise but certainly sudden enough to make you go “ouch!”

Day 1325.

“Five Hargreeves, you may wanna propose to me right now,” you screamed from a distance as you were still rummaging through the ruins of what used to be a grocery store. Oh, you knew he was going to love this.

After spending almost 4 years by Five’s side, you’ve come to know an impressive amount of facts about him, most of which were mundane and in the grand scheme of things, he would say, insignificant. But you didn’t see them as such and kept them all in mind, waiting for the right moment, and today was your lucky day.

“What?” he yelled back, a little confused by your assumption that seemingly came out of nowhere. Not that he didn’t like your company but marriage wasn’t on his to-do list quite yet.

As you awkwardly climbed over the debris, obviously carrying something in your hands but trying to hide it underneath your ill-fitted parka, you said, “Close your eyes.”

Five seemed hesitant, so you insisted.

“Come on, I know you don’t like surprises but it’s the nice kind, I promise.”

He finally complied and exhaled loudly as a means of communicating his growing impatience. You promptly pulled out a coffee pack from under your clothes, swept the dust off its surface in one quick motion and handed it over to Five.

“Look.”

“No way,” he opened his mouth, sincerely shocked you had managed to find something whole and completely untouched. And it happened to be coffee.

“I think I deserve at least a kiss on the cheek, wouldn't you say?” you grinned at how fast Five’s expression turned from grumpy and tired to excited and grateful.

In no time his tight grip found your waist, and he effortlessly spun you around, making you squeak in surprise as you clawed into his shoulders for support instinctively. His movements were smooth and confident as if you were light as a feather or rather weighed nothing at all, and you caught yourself really enjoying the warmth of his hands on your skin.

“You deserve a lot more than that,” Five replied with a sigh as he put you down carefully, his tone suddenly losing its playfulness and blossoming with something a titch more unexpected, and if you had to put a name on it, “affection” would be the most fitting.

Fortunately, the smudges of dirt on your skin were doing a very good job at hiding just how red your cheeks turned at the comment.

Day 1557.

“God, do you ever shut up?” Five snarled irritably, interrupting you mid-sentence, and your jaw dropped in shock. You could have sworn it felt exactly what getting stabbed in the stomach would feel like.

You were a very short-tempered individual and in any other context you would have snapped back, making some scathing comment and walking away with your chin up. This time - not a single word left your mouth as you were paralyzed by Five’s unfiltered hostility. You felt your eyes burn and immediately turned away to wipe away the tear rolling down your cheek, too proud to let him see how much it hurt.

In your defence, you weren’t much of a talker before the apocalypse but it didn’t take you long to find out that being locked up in your own head in a deathly quiet world was not a good way to spend your days. So you kept talking, for both Five’s and your own sanity. It made things feel less real, however paradoxical it may sound. But, more importantly, it was a gesture of care.

You spent the rest of the day without saying a word, and, to your disappointment, Five wasn’t willing to break the silence either. Not talking, however, didn’t mean not looking after each other, and you, of course, made him dinner while he organized a safe place for you both to spend the night.

Since there was never a roof over your heads, you tended to sleep very close to each other, exchanging body heat to keep each other warm. At first, it was only a safety precaution but the habit slowly transformed into something more meaningful, somewhat of a necessity to know and feel that the other was still alive and breathing, still there, safe and sound.

As the two of you were lying in your improvised bed, which was essentially just a few layers of blankets on the hard and unfriendly concrete, you felt Five’s hot breath against the back of your neck as he cuddled you from behind. The big spoon.

“I deeply regret saying that,” Five whispered and sighed in frustration at his own self. He knew he royally fucked up.

“Please, don’t ever stop talking. I need it and I need you, okay?” he uttered so quietly that it was almost inaudible but you caught every word.

You clenched your teeth.

“Okay.”

Day 1866.

Birthdays were never a happy event in the apocalypse and you only kept track of them in order to know your own age.

Every birthday was nothing but another reminder of how much time you’ve spent trapped in this nightmare, and there was truly nothing either of you wished to celebrate.

However, this time you decided to make an exception. Five was turning eighteen and, despite the fact that your circumstances were far from perfect, it was a big day nevertheless.

To say you had limited resources would be saying nothing at all. No cake, no candles, no decorations, no anything to create an environment for having fun, and the only thing at your disposal was your contagious enthusiasm. It wasn’t much but it was surely something.

“Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty,” you whispered into Five’s ear as you tapped on his shoulder, gently breaking him out of his sleep. He murmured something incoherent and placed his hand over his eyes, trying to escape the bright and intrusive daylight.

“Come on, I’ve made you a birthday breakfast,” which wasn’t at all different from any other breakfast but you believed a sprinkle of love that you so thoughtfully added was definitely going to make it taste a bit less like wet cardboard.

“We have plans for today,” you stated proudly as you were waiting for Five to get up. He glanced at you suspiciously, and you were quick to reassure him.

“You can do your clever math things till evening but after that we’re celebrating. There are two bottles of wine that you didn’t know about, and we’re going to drink them and dance. But not ball dance, properly drunk dance. No sadness allowed. Instructions clear?”

Five nodded, feeling a weary yet content and cheerful smile touch the corners of his lips.

Maybe, it wasn’t going to be a shit day, after all.

Day 2587.

“Come on, don’t you dare die on me, you idiot,” Five hissed after pressing his lips against your forehead and coming to a disturbing conclusion that your fever was only getting worse.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you laughed weakly as you looked up at him, and in less than a second a violent wave of nausea washed over your body and swallowed you whole, leaving you with very little chances to escape the overwhelming feeling. You’d been throwing up non-stop the entire day, and the severe dehydration you were suffering was becoming a genuine concern.

The two of you didn’t have the luxury of medicine, and most days you were doing just fine. This time, however, sleeping it off didn’t seem to be doing it for you, and Five was beginning to panic.

“Don’t say that,” Five said coldly, and you winced at the sudden change of mood, almost offended that he wasn’t trying to distract you from your mysterious illness with humor.

“I’m just worried about you,” he clarified as he noticed a gleam of sadness in your eyes.

It was absolutely killing him to see you like that - in pain, sick and exhausted, and he simply couldn’t afford to have “sad” on the list as well.

If there was one thing that Five despised more than anything else in this world, it would be helplessness, and now, as he was facing the invisible enemy that was threatening to take you away, he was feeling exactly that. Helpless. Useless.

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe through another urge to vomit, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth loudly, but the agonizing sensation didn’t seem to have any compassion or mercy for you.

“Okay, I can’t hold it back any longer,” you warned, and Five nodded in silent understanding.

He’d been sitting by your side and holding your hair all day, thoughtfully keeping it away from your face while you were restlessly puking your guts out, and, as you were doing so, not a single muscle on his face cringed in disgust. The only thing that was truly bothering him about this marathon of vomiting was how soon you were going to recover from it.

Thankfully, your immune system was strong enough to get you back on your feet without any external assistance, and you began to get better eventually. But even during your weeks of sickness there wasn’t a single day when you didn’t feel loved and cared for, and the precious moments of Five holding your hand during your feverish nightmares were going to be imprinted on your mind forever.

#five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x you #tua #The Umbrella Academy #number five #five hargreeves #my fic #my writing #tua fic #tua fanfic #Umbrella Academy #reader insert

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picassho-18 · 5 years ago

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Art of Fire (III)

Zuko x Reader; Part 3; 1.4k words

Series summary: The recently crowned Fire Lord Zuko meets a new friend of his Uncle’s, a special fire bender that quickly grabs his interest over a cup of tea and the discussion of the arts.

ALL CURRENTLY POSTED PARTS: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It was the next morning, early enough that the sun was still rising, the buildings casted in a partial light. You were busy in the back of your shop, starting to work on other commissions for your little business before heading to the Royal Palace. You didn’t want to acknowledge it but you were beyond excited to see Zuko again. Even if he was probably the most awkward person to be Lord of the Fire Nation.

Your mind was completely focused on the current piece you were working on. It was a highly detailed koi fish, so you sat at your easel, a blue-tipped orange flame emitting from your pointer finger as you shaded the scales. Lost in concentration, with your face scrunched up staring closely at the wood panel, you didn’t hear or see the figure walking into the shop.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat loudly that you looked up, the flame quickly dispersing from your fingertip.

It was Zuko, standing at the entry of your shop. A sheepish smile shown on his face, as you quickly took in his attire. The Fire Lord was wearing commoner clothes, with a large brimmed hat partially covering his face. If you hadn't met Zuko before in his armour and royal gear, you would not have noticed anything off about him. Even though he always looked so confident in his royal amour, with purpose and poise, he appeared to be almost carefree, relaxed in these kinds of clothes. Although, he was acting mighty awkwardly, just standing at the entrance of your shop.

After clearing his throat, he gave you a small wave, “Hello, Y/N.”

“Uhh, hi!” you smiled, unsure of his presence and of what you should do.

He continued, walking a little further into the shop, “Well um, sorry to interrupt your artwork, but today my Uncle gave me a little gift. He, uh, gave me the day off so he’s standing in as Fire Lord today. The role has been really weighing on me and I am pretty young for all the work and knowledge it requires, and…”

Zuko trailed off, realizing he was rambling. He had been looking everywhere around the shop besides at you, so when he finally made eye-contact, you gave him an encouraging smile.

He grinned slightly, looking down at his feet, “So yeah, I don’t really get these kinds of days, and was hoping, that uh, you would like to spend it with me?”

After he finally asked his question he stared at you, worry sparkling in his eyes, wondering what your response would be. It took a second for you to digest the question; You were simply surprised he would ask you of all people to join him.

Not before long, a huge smile, ear to ear, flashed on your face, immediately putting Zuko at ease. “I would love to!” You got up, putting all your materials away in a rush, before turning to him again, giggling, “By the way, I love the little disguise you have going on.”

He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, uh, I like to get out of my uniform whenever I’m not doing anything official.”

“Of course, so what kinds of clothes should I be wearing? Is this okay?” Without thinking, you twirled around, showing your attire, a pair of black leather pants, boots, and a work shirt. You didn’t see him blushing even more when you had turned around.

“Uh, yeah! That would be fine.”

Alright, you bounded over to the Fire Lord, though with how he was acting and his attire, you sort of forgot, and began to lose the rigidity you would usually have around authority and royals, especially the rigid awkwardness you’ve had around him before.

“Where are we off to?” you asked cheerfully, looking up at Zuko.

He grinned down at you, almost cheekily, “I have a place in mind. It’s not too far, we can walk.”

As you began to walk through the streets, an easy conversation struck up between you two. Zuko had explained that he had seen his Uncle that morning, as he was opening up his shop, to find where your own was.

You had chuckled at that, thinking of that cocky grin Iroh had worn when he found out you liked his nephew. “Your Uncle seems to be a very unique man.”

“He is, indeed.” Zuko has nodded in agreement, “He is the wisest person I know. He’s saved me multiple times throughout my life, whether it was from myself or others, he has always been supportive and there for me.”

You hummed, thinking back to the stories that Iroh had told you before you knew that Zuko was the nephew he had been talking about.

“He is extremely proud of you.”

Zuko cocked his head at your statement, before you continued, “Before I knew that you were his nephew, he told me stories of you. Whenever he talks of you, the biggest smile graces his face, always talking about how much you’ve overcome and proud he is of you. It’s obvious he loves you as if you were his own son. It is quite lovely to see, honestly.”

At your words, Zuko choked up, his eyes watering ever so slightly. Alarmed, you looked at him, before stopping him from walking forward, and putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

Quietly, you whispered leaning closer to him, “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something.”

He shook his head, looked down at the ground shamefully, “I’ve just done many bad things to my Uncle and it shocks me every time to hear things like that. That he has forgiven me completely for my past.”

You knew of the Fire Lord’s past. Anyone in the Fire Nation knew the stories of the banished prince and his hunt for the Avatar. His betrayals and anger. Yet before you now, all you saw was a man trying to become better. For his family and for his Nation. Who was already better yet trying to improve even more.

A single tear fell down from his scarred eye, and before he could whip it away without you seeing, you reached forward and cupped his face, rubbing the tear away with your thumb, your hand resting on his scarred face soothingly. He turned to you, eyes widening in shock at your actions. And honestly, you were shocked that you had done it yourself.

With your voice still soft and low, you reassured him, “Your Uncle really is proud of you. And so am I. You deserved to rule this Nation. And I’m not saying that because it’s your birthright, but because you have overcome many things to become a man that would make this Nation proud.”

He smiled weakly at you, before he nodded his head, as if trying to convince himself of those words. Your hand fell to your side, immediately losing the warmth that you hadn’t even realized was radiating off of his skin.

With his face still close to yours, he whispered “Thank you.”

Yet when you still heard his voice hurting so bad, you made a second rash decision. Quickly, you pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping your arms around his neck, his hat knocked off in the process. He stiffened at your touch, but soon, his arms lifted and wrapped around your lower back.

He was practically clinging to you, forgoing any personal space as he tucked his face into the side of your neck. Zuko tried to keep his emotions in check, but his breathing deepened, trying to hold back more tears as your one of your hands began to rub the back of his head soothingly, your fingers winding through his long, messy hair.

His voice shuddered again, as he whispered another “Thank you” into your skin. All you could do was nod as your heart began to break even more for the anguished man in front of you.

After his breathing settled, and he regained composure, Zuko pulled away, clearing his throat. You smiled reassuringly at him, pulling away as well.

Trying to lift his mood you asked, you grabbed his hat and handed it to him, flashing to biggest smile possible, trying to channel your cheerfulness into him, “So where is this place you’re taking me?”

The sadness in his eyes slowly seeped away, a calmness overtaking them. The idea of his one free day quickly overshadowing the past. Zuko grinned at you, beginning to walk again with you following, “It’s a surprise. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

***

Part 4 has been requested!

Tag List:

@haylaansmi @wasntpriscilla @justholdthesun @furblrwurblr @writers-thoughts09 @alrightberries @fitzsimmons-is-forever @katieisntcranky @ari-shipping-stuff @ayo-cowbelly @ctrl-alt-jeon @tardis-is-mine @catraismygf @celamoon @boom-bunny @silentwhispofhope @aphrodites-perfume @tranquillitea @eury-dice3 @silverdagger69 @fan-g0rl @1234567890nono @julixeric @randomness501@superblyspeedydragon @iwishiwasaginger @ivy-ros @mdgrdians @multifandomphenomena @todaynotseen @rustypotatospork @angxlicwanda @debajo-del-puente @multifandom-slytherin @ninipoo1 @ornate-ribcage @5sosxwinchester @kriswu46 @softpeteparker @richkookie @fairy-inthegarden

#zuko x reader #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #art of fire #part 3 #series #fluff #angst #avatar #the last airbender #firebender!reader #reader insert #zuko fic

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causticsunshine · 3 years ago

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i was tagged by both the lovely @dyingstars-x and @harrymegirlfriend to answer twenty questions about myself! this was a lot more candid than i anticipated but here we go~

💗what do you prefer to be called name-wise?

alex!

💗when is your birthday?

july 21st! cancer season baybee

💗where do you live?

in the US! i've been in the pacific northwest for about eight years but i'm definitely still a californian at heart

💗three things you’re doing right now?

1. jobhunting 2. trying to open my online shop 3. attempting™️ to finish deadline stuff and this HSLOT drawing i've been working on since saturday 🤞🤞

💗four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

i go through little phases where i have my one big primary interest—one dee since returning to it last summer—that sticks around for awhile and then some smaller, less involved ones that tend to come and go, so i'd say right now the only other 'fandom' i'm kinda in is for MDZ/the untamed/cql, even though i'm a very late member to the party!

💗how is the pandemic treating you?

okay i guess? i'd really like to be moved out already as being in therapy and gaining confidence since my big mental breakdown last fall—accompanied with quitting my job of nearly four years that didn't get me anywhere in life—i've realized how many unhealthy behaviors and mindsets are perpetuated in my household and how they're....really not good for me at all. but i also know i can't get to the place i'd like to be mentally and emotionally without moving out, i also can't move out until i find a 9-5 with bennies with all my health problems + me losing my insurance in the new year so it's been....a time.

buuuut besides the soul crushing terror of being an adult living at home with people who don't understand you, i'm confident now and a lot of my mindsets have changed to healthier ones and i've regained my love of art and being creative?

💗song you can’t stop listening to right now?

it's a combination of 'i wish i never met you' by loote, 'crowd' by sophie cates, and...... 'stay' by the kid laroi + justin bieber (although i think that one's just an earworm i need to work out lmao)

💗recommend a movie

i just got to rewatch 'cowboy bebop: the movie' and it's sooo fun....(spoilers) i know the ending of the anime is supposed to be purposefully open as it just covers a section of time in the characters' lives where they're all together but i kinda wish i'd watched the movie after as opposed to when it takes place because it's a little bit...of a nicer (and much clearer) wrap up!

💗how old are you?

twenty five 🧓

💗school, university, occupation, other?

currently jobhunting for a Boring grown up job just for some regularity and insurance (and $$ to get my ass OUT) but i want to take on freelance commission work again too! i dropped out of uni in like 2018 because the school i was going to kept fucking me over with credits just to get my associate's but maybe i'll go back one day.....maybe.....

💗do you prefer hot or cold?

HOT only because it's so gd cold and wet where i live now and even when the summers are warm they're super short and don't compensate for the months i spend not moving out of arthritis pain and freezing my ass off

💗name one fact others may not know about you.

i always come up with fun ones when i don't have any reason to share them lmao but i guess.....staying on-brand with 1d stuff, and i might've said this before, but louis gave me my first bout of gender envy that i recognized as actual gender envy when i was like, fifteen? and as i was coming out of my obvious emo phase into one more subdued, i totally dressed like twink louis for almost a year....haircut and everything....

if i can find the one photo i'm thinking of i'll post it but until then use your imagination sjkgdf

💗are you shy?

i can be? i think once i vibe with someone enough it becomes easy to talk to and open up to them but before that i can be pretty closed off and a bit impersonal.

💗do you have any preferred pronouns?

they/them!

💗any pet peeves?

i'm one of those 'people talking or random noise being made near me while i'm trying to concentrate on something fuels my murder response out of nowhere' people but otherwise...outside of common courtesy/manners stuff being ignore, i don't think so? although i genuinely hate when people walk right behind me or right in front of me...shit makes me anxious and ticks me off dfjkngdf i got shit to do!!

💗what’s your favourite “dere” type?

am i boring if i say tsundere just because it's relatable? although dorodere is kinda fun in the right setting....i love a good character twist!

💗rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

i'd say a 5? there's a lot more i want to do and achieve and things i know i could have right now if my ADHD and anxiety didn't still have such a death grip on me but i'm also in the best headspace i've been in in years so i'll take that as a win!

💗what’s your main blog?

this one!

💗list your side blogs and what they’re used for.

swmpwxtch is my art-only blog because i'm slow at finishing things and know there's no point trying to make this an 'art blog' when i reblog so much, and then prickelndauge is my insp blog (so if you're wondering why there's a startling lack of fashion and art on this blog, it's mostly over there!), then i have one for creepy/spooky stuff (bonepickng) because i know not a lot of people want to see that on main, aaaaand am-ref a ref blog for art tips, life things, donation pools, etc.! (and some old urls i have saved)

💗is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

at the risk of sounding like a YA protagonist: my heart is full of love and i try to be as understanding and open as i can be but i also have a very short bullshit fuse, so while i'm still happily understanding of certain behaviors and mindsets, if you cross the line that i put very bluntly in the sand, you're not crossing back over.

(ie i love my friends but don't be a dick and if you are you get one warning and that's all <3)

uhhh i know a lot of people got tagged already and have done this so! i'll be tagging @grimmpitch @hershelsue @niallnailme @dragmedown @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk @justmehernthemoon @non-binharry @genius0flove @mamaharry @theymetinthetoihlet @saintqueer and uhhh anyone else that would like to!! and if you've done this already please ignore me~

#tagged #twenty questions #oh geez that's me

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

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Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch.28)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Holidays (HawksxGN!Reader)

Plot summary: As a quirk geneticist, you never really imagined yourself getting involved in hero work. Of course, you never imagined catching the eye of a pro hero either. What starts as a great career opportunity turns into a relationship built upon mutual secrets and trust.

Warnings:

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Tag List: @gayforkeigo @marshmallow-witch @redflannel @toyo-shiro @elsasshole @astronomyturtle @iambashfulperson @omiwashere

Chapter Guide

You had hoped the holidays would provide another much needed break from the stress of your everyday schedule, but going home for Christmas only ended up being a solid two days of downtime for you to sit and worry about everything going on in your life. Whether the Hero Commission really needed your boyfriend around for the weekend or the villains were subtly punishing you for refusing Dabi’s offer, Hawk ended up being far too busy to return to your hometown with you like you’d originally planned. So, you hopped on a train and made the journey home by yourself.

Visiting with your family was something you normally really looked forward to, but this time you found yourself in the awkward situation of dodging questions about your boyfriend that you yourself didn’t know the answers to, and giving vague replies to their inquiries about what you had been up to in the lab with Dr. Garaki. Your entire life and somehow become confidential, and you wondered if being around the people you loved had really been the smartest choice, especially given the threats Dabi had made the day you met him. The more you thought about it, the more your imagination tortured you with worst case scenarios.

Even stopping by your old lab did not provide a break from the interrogations. Instead of finding work to keep your mind off the troubles waiting for you back in Tokyo, you just ended up on the receiving end of a ton of gossip relating directly to the problems you’d been trying to avoid.

“Looks like all the top hero schools are doing an extra round of internships this year,” your boss says conversationally as you try to sort and put away the newest shipment of research journals she’d ordered. “I suppose with all the fuss about the League of Villains, not to mention the nomus, they’re trying to toughen up the next generation of heroes. It makes sense, but I’m a little surprised since UA has even required their first year students to get provisional licenses. Seems a bit much to me.”

“Yeah, I guess, but UA is known for pushing the envelope with the standards held for its students, you know?” you reply with a shrug. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Hero course students around the country weren’t just training themselves to face more dangerous villains. At the moment, they were being prepped for an outright battle that they had no idea was coming. The general public knew about the League and the nomus, but they had no clue about the Liberation army or the monster quirk guy that the commission was so worried about. Apparently, the current heroes weren’t expected to be enough to handle the magnitude of the threat, so the pressure of securing a victory would fall mostly on the students in the end. It was just another reason for your distaste with the Hero Commission to intensify.

“I noticed Hawks hasn’t been working with any interns this time around though,” Your boss had clearly been keeping a close eye on her favorite hero. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t mind, but you really didn’t want her digging for information that would put her in danger if she got too close to the truth. “Even Endeavor has been patrolling with three students over the holidays.”

“Unfortunately, his plate has been a little full recently,” you hoped she would be satisfied with that answer. Although it was only natural, it made you feel anxious that she was asking so many questions. All the secrets were piling up and now that a plan for ending all this madness was falling into place, there was even more pressure for you to tread carefully with your actions and words. Even if you weren’t being monitored as carefully as Hawks, there was every possibility that the villains were keeping an eye on you too.

“Well, just as long as you two aren’t fighting or anything,” Your boss hums, eyeing you curiously. “I felt a bit concerned when he didn’t come here with you this time.”

“No, we’re both just busy,” you assure her. Fighting wasn’t the right word, but there had been a lot more intense discussions between you and your hero boyfriend recently. The thing with Dabi had, unfortunately, only been the tip of the iceberg. With the issue of giving up information about Hawks to the league basically resolved, now you were both having disagreements about where you’d be during the massive raid that would be taking place in just a couple of months.

Thanks to Hawks, the Commission knew exactly where the League of Villains and their army were hiding out. And thanks to you, they knew exactly where the high-end nomus were being created and kept. The plan was to attack both locations simultaneously before Shigaraki’s procedure could be completed in order to reduce the amount of damage and casualties in the attack. Even with the element of surprise though, it was sure to be a literal warzone. Hawks had been trying to convince you to take a day off from the lab once the date was set, but as usual you had to deny his request, fearing that you could somehow tip them off about the raid just by calling in. For the plan to work, the villains could absolutely not suspect anything.

Of course, it wasn’t like you wanted to be there when all hell broke loose. Actually, the more you thought about, it the more terrified you were. Any number of things could go wrong, and you had no way to defend yourself if you got caught up in the conflict. It scared you even more knowing that Hawks would not be there to protect you. He would most certainly be assigned to the Villain’s location so that he could play his role with them as long as possible. You would have to rely on the team assigned to the hospital to keep you safe. The only thought giving you any sort of comfort was that, as long as the Commission was able to finalize and prepare their plans in time, both Shigaraki and the nomus should remain in their dormant state until all the fighting was already over.

Thankfully, Hawks was an incredible boyfriend and had somehow managed to arrange to be at your apartment when you finally got home after the holiday was over. You honestly could have cried in relief when you opened the door to find him waiting for you with open arms.

“I missed you,” you sigh while tucking yourself into his chest and wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“I missed you too, love.” He smiles while leaning his cheek on the top of your head. “How’s your family? Do they think I’m the worst for not being there with you?”

“Not at all,” you smile and enjoy the warmth of his embrace for a moment longer. “They’re all fine, but my boss had a few things to say about it though.” Hawks lets out a dry laugh.

“Of course she did.” He didn’t seem to want to let go of you either. You weren’t looking forward to the novel he most likely had written for you to read and catch up on everything that had happened in the few days you’d been gone. When you finally step back and look up at his face, there’s a small smirk on his lips.

“What?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“I may have set a little trap,” he glances up and you follow his eyes to see mistletoe hanging above the doorway. Some of the tension finally leaves you as a laugh escapes your mouth.

“Cheesy,” You shake your head at him. “You know I would’ve kissed you anyway.”

“Maybe, but this seemed like a fun idea anyway.” His smile chased away the last of your worries for a moment and you gladly kiss him back when he presses his lips to yours. The way his hands move to grip your sides and hold you closer hinted that he hadn’t enjoyed the time apart any more than you had. The fact that you only got to see each other for minutes at a time when you both were in town didn’t mean much since there was at least some comfort in knowing you were at least together in the same city.

“Mmm, you’re right.” You say breathlessly after he pulls away. “That was a fun idea.”

“But wait, there’s more!” He says in a bad impression of a TV commercial before chuckling at himself. “I also have a Christmas gift for you.”

“I may have gotten something for you too,” you admit. He takes your hand and leads you into the house so you can sit down. You’re surprised to see he’d put up a few decorations and even bought a small little Christmas tree to put by the window. “You know you didn’t have to do all this, bird-kun.”

He smiles almost shyly while taking a wrapped box from under the tree and handing it to you. “Sure,” he shrugs, “but this is our first holiday together and I felt bad I couldn’t spend more time with you. It only took me a few minutes to set it all up with my feathers anyway. I wish I’d had time to do more.”

“This is perfect,” you pull him down to sit next to you, leaning forward to give him another lingering kiss. “How about using those feathers to get the box on the top shelf of the closet?”

“You got it,” He nods as a couple red feathers shoot from his wings towards your bedroom, coming back just a few seconds later carrying the gift you’d hidden away for him. “This the one?”

“Yeah,” you confirm before looking down at the pretty wrapped box in your lap, wondering what was inside. You were so thankful that Hawks hadn’t bombarded you with too many questions about your trip home, or jumped straight to business with updates on the league. It was nice to come home to a normal life situation and have a few sweet moments as a regular couple celebrating Christmas together. Hopefully, after enduring the next few torturous months, you could have this kind of life full time with Hawks.

#Hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Hawks #Keigo Takami #bnha #mha #Cindy's Writing

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hiscyarika · 5 years ago

Text

Kir’manir: Chapter Three

Ruusaanyc

adj. reliable, trustworthy

Word Count: 10.5k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian receives a transmission from Greef Karga requesting that he return to Nevarro to dispose of the client.

Warning(s): Violence, Injury

A/N: Happy Star Wars Day! Here’s part three (settle in, it’s a long one)! I decided to go ahead and write Cara out, instead having Reader take her place (please don’t hate me). Also please don’t get used to these horribly long chapters. Chapter Four will be about the same length, but then after I run out of canon content to follow, the chapters will be much shorter. Thank you all for reading and for your kind words! I appreciate you all more than you know!

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Chapter One: Beroya, Chapter Two: Narudar

As the Mandalorian jumps into hyperspace, an exasperated sigh escapes his lips. He looks down at the controls, unscrewing the silver top of the gearshift, then turns to the child, who seems completely unaffected by what had just happened with Mayfeld and the other mercenaries. “I told you that was a bad idea,” he says, giving the baby the little metal ball, earning him a soft coo in response.

He leans back in his seat then, closing his eyes for a few minutes as the Crest rides through hyperspace. Once again he’s reminded that you would have been rather useful to have around. It had taken him one look at the team he’d been assigned to, and instantly he’d known that things weren’t going to work out as cleanly and smoothly as he had been told. And he’d been right. He’d gotten out alright, and so had the kid, but if you’d been around, well, that would have been at least one person he knew he could trust unconditionally.

It’s laughable, really, and he finds himself almost chuckling to himself. He’s sure that you haven’t had a second thought about him since he left you on Tatooine. By now, you’ve probably got your own ship, free to roam the galaxy again. He’ll never see you again. He’s certain about that.

By the time the ship exits hyperspace, the kid is asleep. Mando sits up again, going through the catalog to find another planet to land on for a while. As he moves, he bumps into something, because suddenly the holovid comes to life. It’s a transmission from Greef Karga.

“My friend, if you are receiving this transmission that means you are alive. You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize. So here is my proposition. Return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange, and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism.”

He flips the switch to turn off the transmission. It’s a risk. Returning to Nevarro with such a high density of Imperials, along with the angry Guild hunters he had betrayed: there are far too many ways that something could go wrong. None of it would be worth anything if he or the kid ended up dead. He turns, looking at where the child sleeps peacefully in his makeshift bed.

If everything goes right, he’d never have to worry about someone coming to hurt the baby again. He could go back to working for the Guild while trying to figure out where the kid belonged. It would be so much easier than the constant running that they’re doing now.

He’s made up his mind, and quickly calculates the next hyperspace jump. They’re going back to Nevarro.

But first, a visit to Tatooine.

---

You groan as the heat of the binary suns blasts down on your back as you work, fixing an old freighter after an engine had been damaged. Rather than booking passage with someone passing through the system, you had opted to start working for Peli instead, helping her with smaller repairs and upkeep. It didn’t pay much but it was enough for you to support yourself while slowly building up the funds that you had. After Mando had left, it seemed much safer to leave on your own, where you were sure that you couldn’t be turned into the Guild for the hunters that you had killed on Sorgan. It’s less than ideal. You haven’t grown any fonder of Tatooine since the day you arrived, but you know things could be worse.

After hammering the last part into place, you close the port, wiping the grime from your hands with the cloth you keep at your side. You then return to Peli’s storage area, putting all of the tools back in their places. As far as you know, there aren’t any other ships in the starport that currently need attention, meaning that you’ll probably spend the rest of the day tuning up the pit droids.

“We’ve got one coming into bay three-five,” Peli says through the comlink you keep in your ear during the day. You sigh and shake your head. At least working with the droids keeps you out of the heat.

“What’s the damage?,” you ask her, wondering just how complicated the repairs are going to be. You’re not a professional like Peli by any means, but in the last couple of weeks you’ve at least managed to gain more knowledge than you started with. Hopefully it saves you time and credits in the long run.

Peli’s answer is drowned out by the deafening sound of the ship landing. You stand just outside of the hangar, not able to see what kind of ship it is or what condition it's in. When you walk through the doorway though, you gasp slightly at what you see. It’s the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian is back.

At first glance, there seems to be nothing wrong with the ship. You feel your heart begin to beat a little faster in your chest, not sure why he would have come back. Your first thought is that something happened to the little one. It’s a thought that you can barely stomach, and you shake your head to yourself, standing and waiting for the loading ramp to come down. When it does, you can hear the heavy footsteps of the Mandalorian, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you see the little creature in his arms.

You take a few steps forward, meeting them in the middle of the space that separates you, and you smile when you see the child’s eyes light up and his little arms reach for you as he laughs. He clambers out of the Mandalorian’s arms and into yours as soon as you’re close enough.

“Well hi there, little guy,” you say, holding him in one arm. The other you extend at an angle to the Mandalorian. He does the same, each of you clasping the other’s hand as a form of greeting.

“What are you two doing back here? Did you miss me that badly, Mando?,” you tease with a grin, releasing his hand and wrapping your arm around the child, who coos and chitters up at you.

“I have a job for you.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your head tilts slightly to the side. “A job? What kind of job?,” you ask, your expression losing the playfulness it held just seconds ago. This makes no sense to you. Why would he come back for you? Just because you’d done one job together didn’t make you lifelong partners now. That’s the one thing that you understand most about the Mandalorian. You share the preference of working in solitude. Whatever this is has to be dire.

“I received a transmission from Greef Karga,” he begins to explain, though it by no means clarifies his reasoning for coming to you. By now, you’re likely just as wanted by the Guild as he is. The trandoshan that escaped Sorgan would have made sure of that.

He must see the apprehension in your eyes. “I know that sounds stupid, but hear me out,” he says. “The client, the one that paid me to bring the child in, he’s still on Nevarro. He’s got the place crawling with Imps, and it’s making it hard for the Guild to operate. Karga wants me to take him out and bring the child as bait.”

“Absolutely not,” you interject quickly, shaking your head and unconsciously holding the little one closer to you. You know what they want with him. You won’t let anyone harm the baby if you can help it. You’re not stupid enough to trust Greef Karga.

The Mandalorian shakes his head. “That’s why I’m here. I know you won’t let anything happen to him. And he’ll be safe once the client is dead,” he says. “I’ll bring you to Nevarro and make sure you have your own ship when this is over. And both our names will be cleared with the Guild. You can go on like none of this ever happened,” he tells you.

You take a deep breath, your brain running through all of the things that could go wrong, but you know that the Mandalorian is right. This could be the kid’s ticket to freedom and safety. You look down at the little one, watching as his ears perk up. All it takes is one look in his big brown eyes. You know what you have to do. And it doesn’t have anything to do with your own freedom. You look back at the Mandalorian, your jaw set in determination.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

---

Once you’ve left the atmosphere of Tatooine, you lean back in your seat, sighing softly in relief. Finally you can breathe without inhaling dust and sand and you’re not soaked in your own sweat.

“You really hated that place, didn’t you?,” Mando asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Is it that obvious?.” You laugh, “What made you think I’d still be there?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t expect you to be. I figured you’d be long gone the first chance you got. It was just a chance I was willing to take,” he replies.

A thought strikes you then. “Greef Karga has no idea that I’m coming, does he?”

“No.”

“Well that could be an issue, don’t you think?,” you question. Before, he’d made it sound like your joining had already been discussed. Now it’s clear that this might not go as smoothly as you’d originally thought.

“It won’t be. And if it is, that’s his problem,” Mando tells you, standing from his seat and heading down into the hull. You follow after him, glancing at the child for a moment to check on him before you go down the ladder. The Mandalorian seems confident, but you’re not so sure.

You lean against the wall, watching as he opens the weapons vault. “You realize that this could be one grand scheme to take both of you down, right? And if it is I’m sure he won’t hesitate to put me in cuffs too.” The prospect of freeing the child is still worth the risk, but you want to be sure to minimize the chance of being taken by surprise. Greef Karga isn’t known for his integrity.

He sighs in exasperation. “Relax. I don’t trust him any more than you do. We’ll be gone the minute something goes wrong.”

You know he can’t guarantee that, as much as you wish he could. “I’m just saying that we need to operate like this is a trap,” you tell him.

“Believe me, I know. I haven’t gone through this much trouble to keep the kid safe just to ruin it all now,” he replies, turning to face you. You nod in understanding, letting out a soft breath.

Before you can say anything else, you heard a loud knocking coming from the ship. It begins to veer sharply from side to side, and the force sends you colliding with the Mandalorian, your hands pressed to his cuirass. But you don’t have time to think about the severe lack of space between you or the way that his arm comes around your waist to steady you. You grab onto the ladder, freeing him so that he can make it up to the cockpit, and then follow after him, hanging on to the back of your seat to stay upright.

You curse under your breath when you see the child playing around with the controls, clearly amused with his own work. He laughs even as the Mandalorian shoves him into your arms. You take your seat, keeping the child secure in your arms until Mando finally rights the ship again.

“Troublemaker,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes slightly as you look down at the kid, your breath coming in soft pants. He just giggles and brings his little clawed hands up to touch your face. You shake your head, unable to help the grin that comes to your lips then. “We gotta find someone to watch you,” you say.

“You’ve got that right,” Mando agrees, and as you look you can see that he’s changing the set coordinates.

“Where are we going?,” you ask.

“Arvala-7,” he answers.

Now your interest is piqued. “What? But that’s…that’s where the kid was when you found him. Who is there that you trust?,” you question.

The Mandalorian turns to face you. “There was an ugnaught that guided me to the child, and he helped me repair the ship after it was stripped by Jawas. He won’t let any harm come to the kid,” he explains. You nod, relieved that there is at least one other person in the galaxy that can be trusted. It gives you more hope that the two of you might be able to pull this off, and then everything that’s happened in the last few weeks can become a distant memory.

“To Arvala-7 then,” you say, gently placing the child back in his chair.

---

When he lands the Crest next to Kuiil’s moisture farm, the Mandalorian lets out a soft sigh, standing from the pilot’s seat and picking up the child in his crate. He nods his head for you to go first, and once you’re down the ladder, he reaches down to hand you the container. With the press of a button on his vambrace, the container begins to float at his side, and he walks with you down the ramp and towards the ugnaught. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, having to contain a laugh at the less-than-pleased look on your face as you survey the surroundings. You’ve traded one arid planet for another, though at least you won’t be on Arvala-7 for long.

The ugnaught meets the three of you at the door, and the Mandalorian ducks and follows him into the small hut, the container behind him and you after. He stands up straight again once he’s inside letting the container sit on top of a box against the wall. You settle near the child, and he smiles under the helmet as he watches you reach out to stroke the baby’s ear, earning a soft hum from the creature.

The ugnaught grabs the child’s attention as he walks closer, and the little one reaches an arm out. “It hasn’t grown much,” the ugnaught says.

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast,” the Mandalorian answers, coming to stand next to you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” explains the ugnaught, standing from where he was crouched in front of the child. He then turns to you. “This one, on the other hand, she looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora.”

You smile at the comment, and he listens as you introduce yourself to the ugnaught. When you say your name, the Mandalorian makes the discovery that he’s never actually heard it before. He doesn’t have to wonder why. He remembers well the day you’d asked his name and his refusal to give it to you. It was only fair, he knows, that he never demanded yours. But to hear it now, he can’t help but think that it suits you. It’s elegant enough, but also has an edge to it that could strike fear into the heart of any man.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” you explain further. “I was supposed to bring in the child after the tracking fob reactivated, but I couldn’t make myself go through with it. The man who hired us never told us it was a child.” A look of disgust crosses your face.

“I see,” the ugnaught says, nodding. “It’s good to know that morality still exists in the galaxy. The Mandalorian would be wise not to take someone like you for granted.”

He doesn’t fail to catch the pointed look that the ugnaught gives him.

But the warm moment doesn’t last much longer. He feels the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand straight up when he hears a familiar mechanical movement. His blaster is loaded and pointed at the IG unit as it steps into the hut, bearing a few cups of tea. You’re up just as fast as he is, your weapon drawn as well as you step in front of the child.

“Would anyone care for some tea?,” the droid asks.

The ugnaught steps in front of both of you, his hands held up to stop you from shooting at the droids. “Please, lower your blasters. He will not harm you.” But the Mandalorian doesn’t relent and neither do you. He doesn’t even take his eyes off of the droid.

“That thing is programmed to kill the baby,” The Mandalorian grits out. He’s never trusted droids before. He won’t start now.

“Not anymore,” the ugnaught counters. He then listens as the ugnaught tells you both how he recovered the droid and reprogrammed its neural workings. While it might have been comforting to anyone else to hear that the droid had been retaught everything that it knew, the Mandalorian was still not convinced. He couldn’t believe that when he knew that the nature of the droid was to be a bounty hunter.

“Is it still a hunter?,” he asks apprehensively.

“No. But it will protect,” the ugnaught assures him.

He lowers his blaster, and only then do you do so as well. He stares at the droid for a few moments, studying it, and he shrinks back as it offers him a cup of tea. You take it instead, seeming to be much more soothed by the ugnaught’s story than he is.

“I must go tend to the blurrgs,” the ugnaught says. The Mandalorian nods, turning to you as you’re all left in the hut alone with the droid.

“Stay here with the kid. Don’t let the droid touch him,” he says.

“I won’t,” you answer, and though he can hear the questioning in your tone, he doesn’t indulge you with an answer. Instead, he ducks out of the hut, finding the ugnaught standing outside of the pen he keeps the creatures in.

“I’ve run into some problems,” the Mandalorian starts softly. The ugnaught has done so much for him already. He deserves to rest in peace, not be dragged back into this chaos, but he knows that he has no other choice than to ask.

The ugnaught does not look up from where he strokes the snout of one of the blurrgs. “I figured as much. Why else would you return?,” he says.

“I wanna hire your services.”

His answer is simple, but somehow not quite final. “I’m retired from service.”

“I can pay you handsomely, Ugnaught,” the Mandalorian tries, though he knows already that money is not something that will change the ugnaught’s mind. It didn’t before.

“I have a name. It is Kuiil,” he says.

The Mandalorian nods. That’s two names he’s learned tonight. “I need someone to protect the little one, Kuiil,” he replies.

“I’m not suited for such work. I can reprogram IG-11 for nursing and protocol,” Kuiil offers.

“No. I don’t want that droid anywhere near him,” he refuses, unable to help from raising his voice as he speaks. He still can’t bring himself to trust the droid, even if everyone else around him has given in to the idea that the droid will not revert back to his factory settings.

Kuiil finally looks up at him then, a curious look in his eyes as he studies the Mandalorian. “Why are you so distrustful of droids?,” he inquires. But it’s not a question that he really wants to answer in depth. It goes back much further than what happened with the IG unit.

“It tried to kill him,” he says, giving the simple answer

Kuiil shakes his head. “It was programmed to do so. Droids are not good or bad. They are neutral reflections of those who imprint them,” he says. His words are wise and true. The Mandalorian knows this, but as true as he knows the words to be, he cannot internalize them.

“I’ve seen otherwise,” he counters.

“Do you trust me?,” Kuiil asks, and the Mandalorian can already see where the ugnaught is going with this question, but he humors him anyway.

He gives a slight nod. “From what I can tell, yes,” he replies.

“Then you will trust my work. IG-11 will join me, and we do it not for payment, but to protect the child from Imperial slavery. None will be free until the old ways are gone. Forever,” Kuiil says. These words are final. The Mandalorian knows that he cannot argue with them. As much as he doesn’t like the idea of the droid being around the baby, he knows that he needs Kuiil. Having the ugnaught around is more important than his need to keep the droid away.

“Okay,” he relents softly.

“The blurrgs will join me as well.”

“The blurrgs?,” he asks, puzzled.

“I have spoken.”

The Mandalorian has to hold back a laugh at the words. These arguments always seem to end this way, but he’s thankful for Kuiil for more reasons than he can count now. If his only requests are that the droid and the blurrgs join, then he’ll honor those requests without further argument.

---

You sit on top of a crate in the hull of the Crest, your elbow on the table in front of you and your hand locked with the Mandalorian’s as you both try to best each other with your strength. Your eyes stare deep into the visor of the helmet, your gaze like stone as you try to find any hint that he might be giving up.

“I’ve got you beat, Mandalorian. Give it up,” you say, gaining just a bit.

He grunts with the effort of trying to keep his arm upright. “Care to double the bet?,” he taunts, moving your arm back so that you’re upright again, completely in a stalemate with each other.

“So confi–” You’re cut off when you feel a strange sensation all over your body. You let go of the Mandalorian, trying to figure out what it is that might be making you feel this way, but as soon as you lose physical contact with each other, you’re both flying backwards against the walls of the ship.

The crate you sit on topples over at the impact, leaving you in a heap on the floor. Your hand goes to the back of your head, which throbs from hitting the wall. You look over to see that the Mandalorian is in no better shape. But then your eyes catch sight of the child, whose eyes are narrowed as he looks back and forth between the two of you, his arms reaching out like he’s the one that separated you with such force.

The Mandalorian follows your gaze, and he pulls himself up from the floor when he realizes what’s happening. “No, stop! We’re not hurting each other! It’s just a game!,” he says, picking the child up out of his crate. At this, the strange feeling leaves you immediately, but you can’t bring yourself to move. You have no idea what just happened.

“Wait…he….how?,” you ask, watching as the child is handed over to Kuiil for a moment. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to understand how the child was able to do something like that. But you’ve never seen anything like it in your life.

“Look,” the Mandalorian says, walking over to you and helping you up from the ground. He keeps a gentle arm on your shoulder as he looks to the baby. “See? I’m not trying to hurt her. It’s alright,” he reassures the baby. At this, the child’s eyes soften again and his ears perk up a bit. He seems satisfied by what Mando tells him.

He releases you then, the visor looking down into your eyes. “Are you okay?,” he asks softly.

“Yeah. I think so. But what just happened?,” you question.

“The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense,” Kuiil tells Mando. You stand there in silence, not sure what it is that they’re talking about.

“What is it?,” Mando asks.

Kuiil shakes his head. “What it is, I don’t know. But what it does, this...this I’ve heard rumors of. In my days with the Empire,” he says. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and your body tenses slightly at this revelation.

“You worked for the Empire?,” you ask, finding that you trust the ugnaught a little less now. Why the Mandalorian would trust an ex-Imperial to help take down an Imperial officer is beyond you.

“I was sold to the Empire, my dear. An indentured servant, but I am proud to say that I bought my clan’s freedom with the skill of my hands,” he tells you, and you suddenly feel foolish for jumping to such a conclusion about the ugnaught.

You nod slightly. “I understand.”

“Speaking of which, I could really use your craft work right now. Can you pad this container so that the child can sleep better?,” the Mandalorian asks, laying the child back down in his makeshift bed.

The ugnaught walks over, placing a gentle hand on the baby. “I shall fabricate a better one,” he declares.

As Mando shows Kuiil where all the tools are, you make your way back up to the cockpit, taking a seat and trying to process everything that just happened. You can’t really wrap your head around the fact that the child had thrown you and Mando both across the ship just with the power of his mind. This changes your understanding of the situation. Before, you hadn’t understood what was so important about the baby that made the client want him so badly. Now it all makes sense.

You sit up a little straighter as Mando finally joins you. He’s quiet until he takes his seat. “Are you sure you’re alright? You hit your head,” he says, the pilot’s chair swiveling around so that he can face you.

You nod slightly. “Yeah. I’ve had far worse, you know?,” you joke half-heartedly. “I guess the kid just didn’t want to see us fight,” you say with a shrug.

The Mandalorian sighs. “I guess…,” he breathes.

“What does the client want with him?,” you ask, “It has to have something to do with his power.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. He had another man with him when I brought the kid in. They were doing some kind of testing on him, but I don’t know what for. I have no idea how he can do that. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he tells you.

“There has to be more going on,” you reply. “This has to be more than just one officer, Mando. We need to be ready.” Something deep in your gut tells you that you’re in over your head. Whatever you’re about to walk into on Nevarro isn’t going to be as simple as killing a few stormtroopers and taking out the officer. What exactly is going to happen, you don’t know, and that scares you more than you’ll ever admit to the Mandalorian.

“Maybe. We’ll find out more when we land,” he tells you, turning back to the controls.

You turn around when you hear the door open and the mechanical movements of the IG unit, watching as he comes to stand in the doorway of the cockpit. “I have prepared second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?,” the droid asks, it’s hand mechanisms clasped together as it looks between you and Mando.

Mando turns around looking at the droid for just a short moment before he turns away again. “I’m not hungry,” he says.

“I’ll eat later, IG. Thank you,” you reply softly, looking out the viewport of the ship as the droid heads back down into the hull with Kuiil and the child.

“Under no circumstances does that thing leave the ship,” Mando says harshly, his entire body tense and unmoving.

You shake your head. “Why are you so hostile? Kuiil practically rebuilt the thing,” you retort, not sure why he’s so against the droid’s presence when clearly it means no harm to anyone. You know from past experience that pressing him probably isn’t the greatest idea, but you don’t have it in you to care so much at the moment.

“That droid was designed to kill things. I don’t care how much wiring he replaced. It goes against its nature,” he tells you, the chair turning quickly as he looks at you. You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s angry now. It’s all in the way his shoulders are set and the way his head tilts as he speaks to you. It’s in your best interest to let the subject go, so you stand from your chair, shaking your head.

The door of the cockpit as you approach it, but before you go down the ladder, you turn to look at the Mandalorian once more, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the viewport. “You know, not trusting anyone will get you killed faster than letting go of your fear,” you tell him. You join Kuiil, the child, and IG-11 in the hull, leaving the Mandalorian to brood alone.

---

Greef Karga is waiting when the Razor Crest lands on Nevarro, with three hunters of his own standing around him. It gives you the slightest bit of satisfaction that the man clearly fears the Mandalorian. Just as he should.

You ride one of the three blurrgs out of the ship, following behind Mando and Kuiil. The three of you ride at each other’s side as you approach Karga and the other hunters, with the child in his closed pod between you and Mando. It brings you just a bit of peace to have the baby close to you, where you can get to him faster if this all ends as badly as you think it will.

With just a few feet between you and Greef Karga, you pull on the reins to stop the blurrg, your facial expression impassive as you stare down the Guild agent and his minions. One of them is a trandoshan, but to your relief it isn’t Daask. “Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando,” Karga says, placing his hands on his hips as he looks back and forth between you and Kuiil. You watch as the look in his eyes changes as he meets yours. He knows who you are. “But things have gotten complicated since you were last here. It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we’ve both provided a security detail. Or have you brought this traitor as a peace offering?”

He points to you as he speaks, and you clench your jaw as you look down at him, not giving him the satisfaction of thinking that you feel threatened by him. You know you could end him before either of the other three hunters had a chance to draw their weapons. He’s no threat to you.

“She’s coming with me, and you’ll have her name cleared with the Guild when this is over,” the Mandalorian says evenly. His tone leaves no room for argument, but somehow Karga has the gall to open his mouth regardless.

“She killed two of my best men. I’ve started distributing pucks at the request of the trandoshan that escaped her. Why not take the bounty that’s been put on her head?,” he presses.

You feel your blood begin to boil at the mention of Daask. You’re surprised that he’s not among the hunters that Greef has with him. “You can be next on my list if you’d like. I’d be happy to arrange it,” you reply, venom dripping with every word. It would bring you great joy to see such a piece of scum dead at your own hands. You inch the blurrg forward, and the hunters draw their weapons.

“Enough. She’s coming. And she’ll be unharmed and pardoned. Do I make myself clear?,” the Mandalorian says. Greef locks his gaze with the helmet, his lips pressed in a thin line, but then he waves off his hunters.

“Fine,” he relents, shaking his head and holding his hands out in mock surrender. “Fine.” You can’t help the smug grin that comes to your lips at his blatant displeasure.

“So, where is the little one?,” he asks. In unison, you and Kuiil both turn to Mando, your expression grim again as you wait for his next move. The idea of even opening the floating pram makes the hair on your arms stand up. You won’t have anything happening to the baby.

Your whole body tenses as Mando moves the pram towards Greef, opening it once it’s in front of him. A hand instinctively goes to your blaster, ready to draw it and fire if the man so much as looks at the little one the wrong way. You practically stop breathing as he picks the child up out of his pod, but out of the corner of your eye you see that Mando is just as ready to attack as you are.

“So, this little bogwig is what the fuss is all about. What a precious little creature,” Greef says. One of the other hunters brandishes his spear when he notices how on edge you and the Mandalorian are, and the motion has you ready to spring into action. “I can see why you didn’t want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head. Well, I’m glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all,” Greef continues, and he finally puts the baby back in his pod. The Mandalorian relaxes, but you don’t. You won’t be able to until the pod is closed and the child is back at your side.

“Bring him back,” you mutter. Mando presses a few buttons on his vambrace. The pod hisses as it shuts, and then it floats back to its original place between you and Mando. You let out a breath, finally releasing your hold on your blaster.

“The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light,” Karga suggests.

The Mandalorian nods, urging his blurrg forward. You do the same, and with the others you form a triangle around the child’s pod. Karga and his hunters lead the way through the rocky terrain and then the lava flats. The landscape is desolate. Care must be taken with every step. But you watch Greef Karga just as closely as you watch the ground beneath you. No display of his will convince you that his intentions are pure, not until the client is dead. And even then, knowing for certain that there’s a bounty on your head now, you may not trust him even then.

When the sun sets, you stop to make camp. You unload supplies from the bag strapped to your blurrg, making a place for yourself near the fire. Mando settles nearby, keeping the child between you. You decide to stay where you are, watching as Greef and his hunters set up a spit over the flames and roast some unfortunate creature that will soon be your dinner.

You allow yourself to take a deep breath and relax just slightly. You know the child is safe sitting between you and Mando. You lie back against the pack that you’d brought with you. It’s far from comfortable but it’ll do for the night. When dinner is served you sit quietly, keeping an eye on the three other hunters as Kuiil feeds the baby.

“I guess the little bugger’s a carnivore. Never seen anything like it,” Greef muses, not far from your other side. You turn to look at him, hearing the child’s happy babbling. “They were ready to pay a king’s ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie.” He chuckles then, turning away from the child and looking back at the fire.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” you say, tired of hearing the man’s nonstop commentary. You swear you’ve never heard anyone talk as much as Greef Karga does, though maybe it’s just a product of being around the Mandalorian, who never says half as many words. Perhaps you’ve gotten used to the comfortable silence, begun to prefer it.

Greef nods. “Mando and I enter the common house. We show the client the bait,” he pauses to point at the child, which makes you turn to the Mandalorian in question. Surely he can’t be any more comfortable than you are with having the child that close to the man that would rather be running tests on the poor thing in a lab.

“We join him at the table, then Mando kills him,” Greef finishes.

“Tell me about his reinforcements,” Mando says, offering no answer for your silent inquiry.

Greef exhales softly. “They’re all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, they’ll all scatter.”

“And what if they don’t?,” you ask flatly, turning your gaze to the flames as they glow and crackle in the dark.

“They will,” he insists.

“That’s not good enough,” Mando presses sternly.

He turns to the Mandalorian again. “If, for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realize that I’m their best path to alternative employment and they elect to...react impulsively, then these three fine Guild hunters and your accomplice will cut down anyone who bucks,” he says.

“How many will there be?,” Mando asks.

Greef sighs, “No more than four.” He pushes himself off of the ground then, and you watch him closely as he moves towards the fire for another helping of meat. “He travels with, at most, a fire team. Trust me. Nothing can go wrong,” he says. You can barely contain a scoff at the words.

A high pitched screech comes from the dark, and a winged creature swoops down to take the meat from Greef’s hands. You’re on your feet immediately, picking up the heavy repeating blaster that you’d brought along in case you were overwhelmed with the stormtroopers. After stepping in front of the child’s pod, you aim in the direction that the creature had come from, firing at it.

In the shallowest part of your awareness, you hear the child whimper, but it’s followed by the sound of the pram shutting. You allow yourself to take just a step away, firing at the winged beast. It doesn’t take long to realize that even with multiple weapons being fired, the group’s efforts aren’t driving it away.

It swoops down and picks up one of the blurrgs. You turn and shoot at it as Kuiil demands that the creature let go. The Mandalorian joins your effort, but the beast flies away with the blurrg secured in its talons. You let out a breath and lower the heavy blaster for a moment. It’s unfortunate that a blurrg was lost, but hopefully the creature will stay away.

Another screech sounds, and this time the trandoshan hunter is carried away. It’s gone before you can lift the blaster again. But you’re able to fire at the next one that tries to take another blurrg. To your relief, it falls dead, though on top of the blurrg. Your head is spinning with so many attacks on multiple fronts, and try as you might you can’t see far in the pitch darkness. The fire is the only source of light, and even then it doesn’t help much.

You hear the Mandalorian struggling, and you curse under your breath when you see him pinned to the ground by another beast. You shoot at it, careful not to hit Mando. He’s able to get to his feet, and he points his flamethrower at his attacker, fending it off quickly. You don’t stop your own attack, until finally the last of them fly away from the camp. Your chest is heaving with your labored breaths, but you don’t let your guard down yet.

The Mandalorian stands again, rushing over to where the pod still sits shut where it was left. You and Kuiil join him. You keep your back to the pram, your blaster raised and aimed at the sky should more of the creatures attack. But it’s quiet. They seem to have retreated fully.

You finally lower the blaster, placing it near your pack. You turn as Mando opens the pod, and while the child looks a little shaken, he appears unharmed.

It’s then that Greef’s strained cries of pain meet your ears, and you realize that the initial attack left him wounded. As Kuiil rushes over to assess the damage, you rifle through your pack, finding the medkit that you’d brought along with you. You take it over to the injured man, immediately crouching down and beginning your ministrations despite his insistence that he’s fine.

You first inject him with a numbing agent, hoping to at least assuage the pain a little. As you look down at the wound, however, you can see the angry black lines coming away from it. The creature’s bite, you find, is venomous.

“How bad?,” you hear Mando ask from behind you. It startles you slightly. In your rush to treat Greef you hadn’t heard him walk over.

You take out a gauze pad, your only ability being to stop the bleeding. You have no antidote for the venom. At the very least, he’ll lose an arm. “Bad,” you answer, “The venom is spreading fast and I don’t have a way to treat it.” You look down, finding the gauze pad soaked in blood, and as you dig through the medkit you find that there are no more inside.

Greef takes in a shaky breath. “So this… This is how it happens…,” he manages.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I need another medkit! Does anyone have another medkit?!,” you call, looking back at the two remaining hunters. When they shake their heads, you roll your eyes. “It’s a wonder none of you are dead yet.”

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Greef muses, his words ending in a sharp cough. You take out your scanner, running it along his arm to see how far the venom has spread.

“It’s still spreading,” you announce, tossing the scanner aside, “This isn’t working.” You catch movement in your peripheral vision, and you turn just slightly to see the child standing beside you, his eyes wide and curious as he looks at the wound. “Mando, get the kid out of here,” you command.

“Wait,” Kuiil murmurs, looking down at the baby.

You find that the child has reached out for Greef, laying his tiny hand over the wound. “He’s trying to eat me!,” Greef cries. You pay him no mind. You’re too amazed by what you see.

The little one’s eyes narrow in concentration, and before your very eyes you see the wound begin to close. Within just a few seconds, any trace of the injury is gone. The child pulls his hand back, falling on his behind. His eyes close and you gently pick him up off of the ground, standing and turning to the Mandalorian. Your eyes are wide with disbelief, and you’re vaguely aware of the way that your heart is beating rather quickly in your chest. Looking back down at the little one, who has fallen asleep in your arms, you can’t help but fall speechless in the wake of what you’ve seen.

“Take him back to his pod. He needs to rest,” Mando says, breaking the silence that has fallen over the entire crew. You manage to nod slightly, stepping carefully over to the pram. Gently laying the little one down, you cover him with his blanket and then close the pod with the button on the side. When you stand again, you look out into the darkness that lies beyond the camp. Your mind can’t make sense of what the child can do. All you know is one thing: this has become so much more than you thought it would.

You’re not sure you’re comfortable with that.

---

After a night of less-than-restful sleep, you continue the journey into town at the first sight of sunrise. Karga and his hunters walk just a few paces ahead of you and Mando, with the child between you once again. Kuiil lags much farther behind, riding the last of the blurrgs. You’re acutely aware of the hushed conversations happening between Karga and his hunters. You turn to Mando, suspicious of what might be happening. “Do you think they’re having second thoughts?,” you ask him, quiet enough that he’s the only one that can hear you.

“Could be,” he murmurs, and the fact that his own suspicion is winning over is enough to put you on edge. “I need your eyes,” he tells you.

“You know I haven’t stopped watching,” you reply, gaze hard and set on the three in front of you.

Just a short while later, you reach the town. You stand at the edge of a rock shelf, looking at it from above. You let out a soft breath, ready to get this operation over with. You don’t like one bit of this. Every fiber of your being is telling you that there’s something wrong. You’re just waiting for it all to finally come crashing down.

Greef takes a step forward, surveying the town. “I guess this is it,” he says. A few seconds pass, and then he turns suddenly, firing both of his blasters in yours and Mando’s directions. Your heart flies up into your throat, and your own weapon is drawn as the shots hit their targets. But nothing hits you. Or the Mandalorian.

Shocked, you look behind you to see that Karga has disposed of his own men. You stand up straight again, aiming your blaster squarely at him, even with his hands raised in surrender and his thumbs away from the triggers, you have no intention of trusting any move that he makes.

“There’s something you should know,” he says, walking between you and the Mandalorian to reach the bodies of the dead Guild hunters. You keep your blaster trained on him even as he kicks the weapons away from the bodies. “The plan was to kill you and take the kid. But after what happened last night, I couldn’t go through with it,” he explains.

Neither you or the Mandalorian move or speak. Karga steps back, opening his stance to both of you. It’s an easy shot. You could take it if you wanted to. Then it would be over. You could go back to the Razor Crest and leave this place.

“Go on,” he says, meeting your gaze, “You can gun me down here and now and it wouldn’t violate the Code. But if you do, this child will never be safe.” He gestures to the child, but you won’t have it.

“We’ll take our chances. We’ve kept him safe this long. We don’t need your help,” you say, anger clear in your tone as you look at the Guild agent. You want so badly to pull the trigger, but you won’t. Not until you hear what the Mandalorian has to say about it. In the end, no matter your hatred for Greef Karga, it’s his call. It’s his child.

“The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you?,” Greef continues, trying with everything he has to get you and Mando to see the point he’s trying to make.

You cast a glance in Mando’s direction, but you don’t let it linger for long. You won’t let Karga out of your sight for any longer than a second or two. “We could leave right now. Find a better way to do this later. We can’t trust him,” you argue. Your blood is rushing hot through your veins. Your heart is pounding. This needs to end now.

“Perhaps you should let him speak,” Kuiil says, holding up his hand as a way to get you to stand down.

Karga takes a step towards the Mandalorian. You slowly lower your blaster, but you don’t holster it. “Listen, we both need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the child to him, and then you two–”

“No,” Mando finally says, his weapon still pointed at Greef.

Satisfied, you aim your blaster again. “Let’s get this over with and get out of here,” you say.

But the Mandalorian lowers his blaster. “No. He’s right.”

“What are you doing?,” you question in disbelief.

“As long as the Imp lives, he’ll send hunters after the child,” he tells you.

“You can’t honestly be considering this. He’ll have us killed the first chance that he gets and then the child will be lost. We both know how he operates,” you retort.

“Bring me,” he tells Greef.

“Bring you?,” the agent asks incredulously, his hands on his hips.

“Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him and I’ll kill him,” Mando says.

“That’s a good idea. Give me your blaster,” he says. You watch as the Mandalorian does so without hesitation.

You shake your head, finally lowering your weapon. “Mando, don’t do this,” you plead, “It’s a trap.”

He turns to face you. You stare into the horizontal part of the visor, trying to understand how he could believe that this plan would work. “It’s the only way,” he says.

“Well then I’m coming with you,” you state with finality, holstering your blaster.

“No. No. No. That would make them suspicious. You’re a known traitor to the Guild,” Greef says.

You lock eyes with him. “Does it look like I care? I’m not letting you take them in there alone. You can tell them I caught him, as recompense,” you tell him.

“Fine. Then she can bring the child,” Greef says to the Mandalorian.

“No. The kid goes back in the ship,” he replies, gesturing to Kuiil. You nearly sigh in relief. That’s the smartest thing that he’s said throughout the entire conversation.

“But without the child, none of this works!,” Greef argues.

“I have a plan. Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the child and seal yourself in. When you’re inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors,” Mando says. Kuiil nods, walking over to Mando and handing him a small device.

“Here’s a comlink. I will keep the child safe,” he vows. You finally find yourself soothed. Despite your brief acquaintance with the ugnaught, you trust him with the child’s life. He’s the only one you trust outside of the Mandalorian himself. It’s risky going in without the child, but you’d rather take the chance of being discovered by the Imp than put the child in danger.

You watch as the ugnaught takes the child from his pram, wrapping him in a blanket before starting back towards the blurrg. He stops, looking up at you for just a moment. “Be mindful of your anger, lest it blind you,” he warns you.

You nod. “With the child in your hands, that won’t be a problem,” you promise. Satisfied, Kuiil goes back to the blurrg. You look back to the Mandalorian, watching as he’s cuffed with his own binders. You take in a deep breath, tightening the strap that keeps the heavy blaster secured on your back, then reach down and close the child’s empty pod.

“Let’s go,” the Mandalorian says.

---

You only have to reach the front of the town to see that it’s been overrun by stormtroopers. At the sight of the scout troopers guarding the entrance, you and Mando steal a quick second of eye contact. It’s Greef that handles them, though you can’t help but tense just slightly as they ask for a chain code.

“This is a gift for the boss,” Greef says.

“Chain code,” the trooper demands.

He hands over a card, which the trooper scans. For a moment, you think that you’ve already been caught, but then the trooper looks back and forth between Mando and Greef. “I’ll give you twenty credits for the helmet,” he offers.

Karga gives a half-hearted chuckle. “Not a chance. That’s going on my wall,” he says.

“On your wall?,” Mando mutters, turning slightly.

“Go with it,” Greef says quietly.

“Go ahead,” the trooper says, handing back the card. Greef urges the Mandalorian forward, and you walk with the two of them through the street. You feel every stormtrooper eye trained on the three of you and the empty pram that floats just behind. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, you try to keep yourself steady. But the amount of Imperials is unnerving.

When you make it to the door of the client’s building, you clench your fists at your sides, walking in right behind Mando. As you enter, you see that Karga’s words from the previous night are true. There are four troopers in the room to guard the client.

You look around the empty cantina, finding the man that you presume to be the client sitting at a table alone. He’s an older man with narrowed eyes and a strange aura about him. Looking at him, you wouldn’t have guessed that he was an officer even in his prime. He stands, approaching Greef and Mando as they draw near, his eyes curious as he takes in the sight of the Mandalorian. You keep a bit of distance, surveying the stormtroopers without them catching your eyes.

“Look what I brought you. As promised,” Karga says, presenting the Mandalorian to the client. The old man puts a hand to Mando’s cuirass and then his helmet, looking the suit of armor over with interest.

“What exquisite craftsmanship,” he says, his voice slow and raspy and crooning. It holds a certain mystery to it that doesn’t sit right with you. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans,” he continues, but then looks to Karga again. “Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?,” he asks.

“I would be obliged,” he replies with a nod.

The client gestures to the bartender droid, and once the droid gets to work, he takes a seat at the table again. “Please sit,” he tells Greef, who then slides into the booth with Mando on the inside. You take just a step closer, watching the stormtroopers as they change position, all focused on the Mandalorian. There are more of them now.

“It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.” You listen closely to the client’s words, having to bite your tongue at the admiration for such a terrorizing regime. You’ve seen firsthand the way that people have suffered at the hands of the Empire. Nothing could ever make you believe that it was good. Nothing.

“I would like to see the baby,” the client says, his focus shifting quickly. You watch the pod, knowing that now is when the Mandalorian must strike. Once the pram is opened and the client discovers that the child isn’t there, the charade is over. You ready yourself to fight, but don’t move to draw your weapon yet. You can’t do it with the stormtroopers watching you.

“Uh..,” Greef hesitates, putting his hand out to stop the client from opening the pod, “It is asleep.” It’s a lame excuse. You know. But if it buys you any amount of time, then it works.

The client looks around at the troopers in warning. Still not retracting his hand. “We all will be quiet,” he promises. Your heart starts beating a little faster. Sweat beads at the back of your neck. The next few moments will either end triumphantly or in your death. You’re ready for either.

“Open the pram,” he demands as Greef sits in silence.

One of the stormtroopers approaches the client, and you can hear chatter coming from the radio, but you can’t decipher what’s being said. The client stands, and with him so does Greef. “Don’t think me to be rude,” the client says, “but I must take this call.” With this, he walks over to the bar. As soon as the attention is no longer on the three of you, you turn to Mando and Greef, watching as Mando frees himself from the binders.

“Give me the blaster,” he whispers.

The exchange is quick and discreet. “You get one shot,” Greef warns.

“You said there would only be four,” you murmur, leaning in closer to the two men.

“Well, there are more. What can I tell you?,” he replies.

You stand up straight again, glancing in the client’s direction. He’s bent over the bar, speaking quietly to whomever has contacted him. It’s all quiet, that is, until shots come through the window, hitting the client. His body falls to the floor, and the barrage continues. You drop to the ground, moving with the Mandalorian to take cover. Several stormtroopers are caught in the blaze, and they fall dead to the floor as well.

Concealed behind a column, you wait what seems like forever for the attack to end. When it goes quiet, you’re up, moving quickly and carefully to one side of the window while Mando goes to the other. You peer around the wall and out the window. Your heart drops to your stomach and your blood runs cold at what you see.

Death troopers.

But that’s not the end of it. A transport comes in, carrying another battalion of stormtroopers. They surround the building and stand behind the line of death troopers, poised and ready to shoot on command. You look to the Mandalorian. You’re outnumbered and surrounded. You know that it’s very likely that you won’t leave the cantina alive.

“What do we do?,” you ask.

Mando brings the comlink closer to his helmet. “Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet?,” he asks.

There’s no immediate answer.

“Are you there? Do you copy?”

“Yes!,” you hear, and you sigh in relief knowing that the child is still safe.

“Are you back to the ship yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here. We’re pinned down!,” Mando exclaims, and you close your eyes for just a moment, praying to whatever deity or maker that will listen to you that the child and the ugnaught will make it back to the ship and far away from Nevarro. Your death will be worth it if the little one lives.

You open your eyes when you hear rustling outside, and you hear a ship coming in. You look out the window, watching as a TIE fighter approaches, landing right behind the scores of troopers. This is it. You were right. This was always about far more than just the client.

The door on the top of the ship hisses as it opens, and from it rises another man. He comes down from the ship and walks between the troopers, stopping just in front of the line of death troopers in the front. “You have something I want,” he proclaims.

You look back at Mando, confusion written across your facial features. “Who is that?,” you ask, though frankly you don’t expect him to know. He doesn’t answer you, instead keeping his eyes trained on this new adversary.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not,” the man continues, his voice echoing off of the buildings as he speaks.

Mando tries the comlink again. “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? They’re onto us!,” he says. Again, there’s no immediate answer. “Kuiil, come in!”

“In a few moments,” the other man begins, and your focus on Kuiil’s answer is broken, “it will be mine.”

“Kuiil! Do you copy!” The Mandalorian sounds much more panicked now. “Kuiil!”

“It means more to me than you will ever know.”

Your gaze shifts back and forth between Mando and the man outside. Your stomach is in knots and you’ve broken out into a cold sweat. The ugnaught’s silence is eating at you.

“Kuiil! Are you there?!” The Mandalorian keeps trying to get an answer. “Come in Kuiil. Kuiil, come in.” Still there is nothing. “Kuiil, are you there?!” He’s yelling now, and panicked tears are burning at your eyes at the thought of what might have happened to the ugnaught and the baby. “Do you copy?! Kuiil? Kuiil!”

No answer.

You look out the window at the masses of troopers and the TIE fighter and the man that demands to have the child for himself. You look back at the Mandalorian and Greef Karga and the destroyed cantina littered with bodies. You wonder how it all could have gotten so out of hand so quickly, how no one had any idea of what was in store for the child. You’d felt something wrong before you ever landed on Nevarro, but even your intuition had never prompted you to consider something of this magnitude.

The Mandalorian meets your gaze. You don’t have to see his eyes to know his terror. You can feel it just as intensely as you feel your own.

---

Chapter Four: Cuyanir

---

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