#about only getting to see his kids and their unnatural (to him) arrangement in the dead of night

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

[morphodae]

Gregory Violet |Headcanons

Including general, relationship (x reader), and some modern au as a bonus!

These headcanons kind of trickle down into a story/narrative so please bear with it lol (plus: these are to warm up! I have ideas for future oneshots)

cw: none

Read more P4 headcanons here: 🦉x ,🌹 x ,🌱 x

General:

I see Gregory coming from a well-off family. They might not have the highest rank out there (they’re probably a viscount or baron nobility rank), but they have enough to send Gregory to Weston.

Either Gregory is an only child, eldest, or youngest. I have a feeling that he may not be super close with his family; perhaps he comes from a blended family or doesn’t have many siblings.

Naturally, his talents sent him to Weston College— which is unnatural for a lot of noble, rich London boys. Most get in for status and money, Gregory got sent there for his talents. Gregory was born with talents and had great expectations placed on him while he was content to create art and do things on his own.

When he was younger, he was obviously different compared to noble boys and girls around him— or general kids of the era. Being so “different, odd, and weird” was something that bothered him in his younger years, but once he turned 18 he stopped caring about others’ opinions. He’s his own person and he couldn’t care less what others have to say about it.

As such, he’s very obviously not thrilled to go to a crowded, renown, high-end school, but thankfully he was sorted into a House that accentuates his eccentricities with others like him. Still, he tends to keep to himself (as most introverts) save for a few close friends— Redmond, Greenhill, and Bluewer.

He’s “eccentric” by many peers but if he were in modern times, he’s definitely neurodivergent at the least. Definitely not me projecting my own autism /s lol.

One misconception is that people believe him to be antisocial or too “moody” when this is not the case. Gregory has a vibrant inner world and is an excellent observer; which allows me to transition into how a relationship with him might be.

Relationship:

Gregory isn’t one to actively seek anyone out, let alone a significant other. For any sort of relationship to have with this artsy fellow, you’d have to either 1) be someone who stands out with the time period’s standards (like him) or 2) have to be brought into his life suddenly and stay for a while before anything remotely romantic happens.

It’s fun to see him with someone who is either a lot like him or someone who is a bit of an opposite— although mostly in external appearance and I’ll explain why.

I don’t think someone who is a polar opposite to be someone who suits Gregory.

If say, someone preferred cutesy girly things or pastel colors and sunlight, that’d be fine. However, I see a calmer personality with a lot of empathy and respect being something he’d need. Otherwise I don’t think a boisterous loud person to be someone that he’d see himself with romantically.

With that said, courting you is… a feat lol. It takes Cheslock (poor Gregory), and the rest of the P4 to really push him in the direction of you.

When it finally happens and Gregory and you are able to formally meet and court, all five of them practically cheer lol. No one thought he’d be the type to find a s/o and Gregory’s parents were concerned he’d die alone :(

Because of expectations of his nobility, I do expect he’d marry you in some way irregardless of gender. But with you, someone he’s not arranged to and someone he truly loves, he tends to view it as a romantic and passionate expression of his commitment towards you.

A relationship with Gregory is majorly spent in comfortable silence. I’d say quality time is a major thing with him. However, he, like a lot of introverts, still needs ample time to himself— so don’t expect him to be glued at your hip. Plus, for that time period, PDA and general overt displays of affection whether in public or private was generally seen as odd. Gregory, for one, doesn’t care too much for the status quo but he is still figuring out his first relationship with you and how to navigate it while respecting you.

In a modern au, he’d be a bit more clingy in private. I see him as the type to play with your hair, study its shape and color for his sketches but mostly because it feels nice to him. If you are reading or gaming then I see him the type to sit behind you with his chin on your shoulder just enjoying quiet contact. It’s very wholesome. Alternatively, whether you lay with him on his chest or he on yours, he just enjoys quiet moments where he can be close to you.

He’s very reciprocal. By this I mean; you respect him and his hobbies, he respects yours. You show him kindness and care, so does he. He’s actually quite a classically romantic guy and is one to surprise you with flowers, food, and of course, sketches and art! He definitely cares and worries about your well-being and happiness (as seen in manga with his friends too!), so he will have his moments where it seems like he’s mother-henning you if he feels that you aren’t taking care of yourself.

Don’t be surprised that one of his first drawings of you was during his pining phase before the two of you formally spoke or courted lol.

Overall a relationship with Gregory is mostly spent in quiet understanding in silence with a partner who is able to empathically express and respect him mutually. Despite being a bit of an oddball for the time period he lives in, he still is a traditional romantic who loves to look after your well-being and give you gifts 💜

[gruesomejack]

They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed, a pair of earbuds shared between the two of them. It was a fairly regular occurrence, and even without the music, it was a familiar seating arrangement. Maybe it was his fault-- Sabrina liked being close to Charlie. The other boy made him feel... safe. Charlie was kind and warm and patient in a way most people didn't like to be with him, so he stuck close. He also hoped that maybe... he offered something similar in return.

The first couple of months of school had been hard to adjust to. New building, new faces, new teachers, new noises-- It was a miracle he was getting through every day without crying. The worst part of it was the older kids. Honestly, he was used to getting stared at and picked on; that just came with being different. But something had shifted. Instead of teasing him for how he talked or what he wore or for having meltdowns in the middle of class, he was getting picked on for something he hadn't realized was a problem. For being close to Charlie.

They'd spend the majority of their childhood attached at the hip. Holding his hand was second nature to him and a habit he'd brought along as they shifted from junior high to high-school. Between classes, he'd happily ramble about whatever was on his mind that moment and lean against him like he always did, taking comfort in their closeness. A few older girls had approached him before he could scurry off to his next room and accused him of having feelings for him. It would've been fine-- He could've shaken it off if they didn't mention how weird it made Charlie look when they hung out together. Charlie was so kind and handsome and easy to make friends with; he didn't want Charlie to be teased too. So he backed off. Or tried to. He spoke to him still and spent time with him, but he did his best to keep their physical distance at school. Charlie deserved lots of friends, and he didn't want to get in the way of him finding any. Here, though? In Charlie's bedroom, they could still sit side by side.

Feelings was... a tough subject. Always had been. He never really knew what he was feeling at any time without having to dig at it. Being accused of liking Charlie had forced a shovel in his hands and marked the spot. He'd spent weeks mulling over it. Did he have feelings for Charlie? He certainly was important to him. Very important! Maybe the most important. There was nobody else he liked more than Charlie. He'd been the first person he'd ever talked to that wasn't his parents-- His mom had called it a miracle, but really, it'd just felt natural. Charlie was the only person who could touch him without permission, too. Even his parents still had to ask to hug him, but his arms were always open for his best friend. There were a lot of things he couldn't tolerate from other people that he could from him. He loved Charlie, that was for certain. Best friends were supposed to! But feelings?

Glancing over at the other boy, he furrowed his brow and walked soft eyes over his face. Charlie had always been cute. He was boyish with round cheeks and big grey eyes that were unnaturally warm. There was a smattering of hormonal acne of his forehead and the start of a mustache on his upper lip, but it was still charming. Sabrina's gaze fell to his lips-- They were thin and pink and easy to pull into a smile. It was something he'd always liked about him, but he found himself stuck, wondering how they'd feel on his own.

Kissing was important, apparently. He heard other kids talking about it constantly, and it was kind of annoying. He still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the idea of dating and intimacy, but? If it was that important, why wouldn't he want to share it with him? Just once. Just to see! Maybe it'd help him understand.

"Charlie?"

The other boy picked his head up and pulled the earbud from his ear. Smiling, he looked at him with those bright eyes. "What's up?"

Sabrina warmed and glanced away for a second, feeling a heavy flutter behind his lungs. Squeezing his hands in his lap, he took in a soft breath and closed his eyes. The boy leaned in with gently puckered lips, but instead of feeling Charlie's, he felt a hand on his chest. Quickly opening his eyes, he met Charlie's wide, terrified ones and immediately felt his heart sink into his stomach. Oh no.

Charlie shook his head, and Sabrina quickly winced. Without a thought, quiet, rambled apologies fell from his mouth as he rushed to his feet. Grabbing his bag and shoving his homework in it with shaky hands, he cursed at himself as he fumbled with the zipper. "I-I'm sorry." He managed, "Sorry, I- Bye."

"Sabrina- W-Wait! I'm sorry!" Charlie started, but he couldn't get himself to move, still too shocked.

Frowning, Sabrina rubbed at his red cheek and shook his head, too. "...Bye."

[singswan-springswan]

more faerie au rambling

words: 859

characters: Kanan and Depa

~

“Ama!” Kanan yelped and scrabbled at his back, but she was holding on too tight for him to do much like jerk away. “Ama, what the kriff! That burns!”

She didn’t loosen her grip, but she did stop pulling long enough to meet the glare he threw over his shoulder. Her mouth was pulled into a stern frown. “Of course it burns. It’s iron.”

Kanan forced himself to grip the footrail of the bed instead of his throbbing skin. He felt ridiculous—like one of those wealthy human girls preparing for a social rendezvous. “You’re making it worse, yanking that hard.” He hissed. If he held the foot rail tight enough, maybe his hands would stop shaking. It hurt.

“I’m being as gentle as I can.” She insisted, and it was the truth because she only ever spoke the truth. “You’re in pain because this is unnatural, and you shouldn’t be doing it for the sake of some lighthearted mischief.”

“If you think that way, why are you helping me?”

She returned to tightening the cinches, brisk and precise in her movements. Kanan swallowed another yelp. His eyes threatened to water.

“I’m showing you the correct way to go about this foolishness. Anyone else you ask will land you with permanent nerve damage, or worse.”

The exaggeration made Kanan grumble. “I think you’re taking it a little to the extreme, Ama.”

“No.” She snapped, punctuating the sharp word with another yank that had Kanan seeing stars. “This is not a subject of mirth, Caleb. Iron may not be able to damage your wings, but the rest of your body can still suffer from prolonged exposure, if not handled reverently. It would be humiliating enough to wear iron scars, but ones caused by your own misconduct rather than human malintent—”

“I get it, Ama.” Kanan huffed. “Could you just finish up?”

She hummed a single note of displeasure, then fell silent. Kanan was really on her bad side now. The frustration did make sense. From her perspective, Kanan was risking his health and safety for no good reason. As his mom that had to drive her nuts.

But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He knew how to handle himself in the human world. Binding his wings was just an added precaution, what with the weird kriffing detector thingies the Empire had released on black markets. Even with his glamour more pristine than it’d ever been, they still managed to sniff him out because his wings weren’t hidden beneath a layer of iron. This was stupidly painful and uncomfortable, but it was the only way to ensure his safety while he traveled among humans. They were hunting fae too viciously these days to not take the threat seriously. Of course, Ama would rather he just stay home: not go traveling and run the risk at all. But she was pushing her mid millennium. She was too old to understand his reasons. Humans were enchanting.

“There.” She said firmly, tersely, dropping her hands away. 

The rigid binder thumped against the back of Kanan’s legs, and the motion had his muscles spasming in pain. His wings were screaming. They were burning. They were bunched and tied up tight like banners, and the awful awful arrangement would have been bad enough if it wasn’t iron keeping them in place. Kanan wanted to cry. He was already half shaking. Having that much iron rest on his person made him feel mildly sick.

But as much as he wanted to claw the sickening contraptions off his back, he had asked for them in the first place, and he was proud like any faerie. He wasn’t going to back down now.

“How do I look?” He turned to face his mom with a wide grin, arms out. With every small movement, the binder shifted and made the pain worse. Not to mention its length. Kanan had big wings. Nowhere near as large as Anakin’s, but he still needed a pretty sizable binder to keep them both in place. It was heavy.

“Ridiculous.” Ama said flatly. 

Kanan waved a glamour over his shoulder and made the binder disappear. He was in his most human-adjacent disguise now. Anyone might easily overlook his true nature if not for the glowing eyes and wiry horns. The pain was still there. It was just less targeted now.

“Still ridiculous.”

“Oh come on, Ama—”

“I will not approve of this reckless and idiotic behavior. I only hope the pain of your disguise is enough to deter you before you get yourself killed.”

“Hey, give me some credit. I’ve been infiltrating humans for decades now. I know all their tricks; they’re not going to be the death of me.”

Her disappointed frown didn’t put nearly as much faith in his declaration as he could hope for. Which was fair enough. He wasn’t in a place to ask much more of her after what she’d just done.

She folded her hands into the billowy sleeves of her robe. There was an uneasiness to the gesture, as if her fingers—aching from the effort it took to manipulate iron—trembled for more than pain. “We shall see.” She said.

[joie6000]

Thanksgiving week was a doozy. My dad got a call that his only sister’s grandson tested positive for Covid. A vaccinated person getting Covid is no big deal but a 25 year-old suffering with Duchennes Muscular Dystrophy getting Covid is the absolute worst deal.

My parents, specifically my dad has helped his niece, Cami, with her son, Zachary, for about 20 years. It all started when we were visiting them in Atlanta. We went to one of Zach’s soccer games and I told my mom that he didn’t run correctly. The gait was awkward and very unnatural. He fell too much. My mom suggested something to Cami about it - more like a “maybe he needs different shoes” or just needs to do some PT to strengthen his muscles. With my dad as a doctor and mom a nurse, most people trust the opinions so she took him in.

After months and months of meeting with specialists he was finally given his tragic diagnosis of DMD. Typically anyone with this disease, mostly boys, will not see their 26th birthday. From then on, my parents sprung into action. They pulled some strings and Zach into one of the best DMD hospitals in the country. They helped him get home aids and better wheelchairs. My dad made sure to visit Zach in Florida as much as possible and Zach truly loved my dad for it.

My dad always said that the Duchennes wouldn’t kill Zach but ultimately he would probably die from a respiratory illness like pneumonia. So once Covid hit, they stayed home and did nothing. Zach couldn’t do much anyways because he was in his 20s and pretty much bed-ridden but they masked and stayed home.

No one knows how exactly he got Covid but they think it was him home health nurse as she was the only one with a life outside of the walls of their home. He got it on a Thursday and was in the hospital by Saturday as the Covid turned into pneumonia. My dad was on a plane down to Florida by Sunday. By late Sunday night Zach had died.

Zach had a shit life and that’s the only way I can explain it. His father left Cami when Zach was little to then start a new family with another woman and forget about Zach for months and years on end. He would randomly call maybe every 3 years to wish him a happy birthday, sometimes not even on his birthday.

He had to go to a modified school schedule at a young age because DMD is exhausting. He had no friends. Zero. He was a Make-A-Wish kid which was a wonderful experience but temporary. Any enjoyable was temporary. In the hospital he signed his own DNR. Can you imagine as a 25 year-old signing that?

My dad stayed in Florida to help his sister and niece clean out Zach’s room and arrange the cremation. My cousin, for the first time in many years, didn’t have to be up multiple times a night to help toilet/clean/care for her for aching son. I can’t imagine. I don’t want to imagine.

My dad flew home and needed to quarantine because he had been on the Covid floor at the hospital hence we decided to move Thanksgiving to later in the weekend. We all met my dad at the airport and he was sad and exhausted. My mom asked for Abby to stay at their house because no one makes my dad laugh like Abby.

I chose this picture of Zach because this is how I want to remember him. The boy who was not happy I was marrying Patrick because at 8 years-old he wanted to marry me. The boy who would send me a Facebook message with “happy birthday” or whatever letters he could type.

I read a quote this week that said, “if you get to tuck your healthy child into a warm bed you have already won the lottery of life.” It’s just unbelievably true.

[firstaidspray]

Ship Trait Meme!!

I was tagged by @rhettsabbott to do this!! Thank you, it was fun!! Both for Alan Wake hoes this time around.

Rules: bold the themes that apply to your ship, and italicize the theme if it’s one-sided, within your story.

Navy Young and Tim Breaker (Alan Wake)

height difference (Tim 5'11, Navy 5'1) / mutual pining (they are both unsure if the other feels the same tho) / first kiss / wedding / in-jokes / lgbtq+ (bi4bi and Navy is nonbinary) / family disapproves / would die for each other / would kill for each other / fake relationship / arranged wedding / cuddlers / pda friendly / and they were roommates (does the rooms Mr Door puts them in count?) / holding hands / secret relationship / opposing worldviews / getting a pet (after the Dark Place I can see them getting a dog) / have kids / want kids / grow old together / relationship failures / rests head on shoulder / share a bed / relationship doubts / they have a song (zero by smashing pumpkins) / first date (is accidentally hitting him in the head with a flashlight then exploring the Dark Place together a date?) / sharing a blanket (if they have one) / mutual interests (Navy is also quite interested in the unnatural) / study buddies (studying the Dark Place) / bathing together / crash into hello / accidental nudity / laundry / same hobbies (both DnD nerds) / cooking for each other / big fancy gala / forehead touches / hair stroking (one of the only ways he can calm Navy down) / sitting on each other’s laps / sexual tension (Tim being clueless Navy feels the same but still being into Navy, Navy thinking everything about their pre relationship is sexual tension) / can’t be together / battle couple (fighting shadows in the Dark Place) / Friends to Lovers (ofc they were friends first!!) / Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies / keeping secrets / love after loss / exes / declaration of love (Navy had to be VERY clear she was not meaning "I platonically like you) / flirting (Navy only, Tim can't flirt to save his life) / love triangle / destructive romance / envy / “I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship” / shared values / slow burn / does not end well / happily ever after (they escape the Dark Place eventually) / love letters

Lilith and Mr Scratch (Alan Wake)

height difference (Scratch 6'2, Lilith 5'1) / mutual pining / first kiss (Lilith was created by him so ofc he was her first) / wedding / in-jokes (not funny to others for various reasons) / lgbtq+ (bi4bi and Lilith is nonbinary) / family disapproves / would die for each other / would kill for each other (aaaalllll the time) / fake relationship / arranged wedding / cuddlers / pda friendly (maybe a little tooooo much) / and they were roommates / holding hands / secret relationship / opposing worldviews / getting a pet / have kids / want kids (god, can you imagine?) / grow old together / relationship failures / rests head on shoulder / share a bed (forever and always) / relationship doubts / they have a song (heel by toadies) / first date (murdering someone is a date, yeah?) / sharing a blanket / mutual interests (killing and murder and etc) / study buddies / bathing together (in blood sometimes) / crash into hello / accidental nudity / laundry / same hobbies (once more, killing and murder) / cooking for each other (she cooks for him) / big fancy gala (they've infiltrated one before to find a murder victim) / forehead touches / hair stroking / sitting on each other’s laps / sexual tension (they are constantly trying not to fuck at all times) / can’t be together / battle couple (err...murder couple) / Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies / keeping secrets / love after loss / exes / declaration of love (as soon as he made her) / flirting (wayyy too much on Scratch's end) / love triangle / destructive romance / envy / “I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship” / shared values (torment Alan?) / slow burn / does not end well (if you played the game you know) / happily ever after / love letters

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Shag & Scoob

Update because it’s 8/31/23. I question if I’ll ever go back to this. I especially wondered about changing the title because there’s another thing similarly called that.

Anyway, here’s my...reboot of the Scooby-Doo franchise. My own take on it and revealing the names of certain characters. And there was the idea of Shaggy’s mother being a veterinarian before her name. Along with the fact Shaggy and his sister lived with her before her death and moving back with their father. Who Shaggy doesn’t have the best relationship with.

“In the peaceful town of Coolsville, Shaggy Rogers is a young outcast who is given a therapy dog named Scooby by his late mother to help him in life for his serious anxiety issues. But when a mystery pops up, Shaggy sees a chance to not only prove to his town he’s not a cowardly slacker, but also impress Daphne Blake. A girl he’s had a crush on for some time. When they also bring along Velma Dinkley, Fred Jones, and even Shaggy’s little sister when they can’t leave her alone. Things start developing as the accidental forming of Mystery Inc happens. Yet during their first mystery, the group discovers that somehow Scooby can somehow speak.

As more mysteries come about to them whether they welcome them or not. And trying to figure out how and why Scooby can speak. The mysteries start getting more dangerous, and down the line, Shaggy forms an unshakable bond with the Great Dane, leading to a series of events that will challenge them all. Specifically Shaggy as he tries to protect not just his best friend. But the last gift his mother gave him.”

Shaggy Rogers.

Voiced by: Kyle McCarley (Infinity Train)

Bio: A 20-year-old outcast who suffers from heavy anxiety issues. Despite being seen as a cowardly slacker who has a huge love for food, Shaggy is a very empathetic person who puts others needs before him. But has trouble having accepting who he is. He longs to be seen as a different person. But getting Scooby and hanging with others, he soon discovers things about himself that he didn’t think otherwise. Which will help overcome a loss that deeply affected him. 

Scooby-Doo.

Voiced by: Fred Tatasciore (Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur) 

Bio: A 1-year-old Great Dane who has the unnatural ability to speak in broken English. Arranged as a gift by Shaggy’s late mother as a therapy dog to help him in life. When Shaggy and the rest of the gang discover Scooby can talk, they freak out but get used to it. While also making sure no one else finds out to protect Scooby himself.

Similar to Shaggy, he is usually very cowardly and hungry. But also, empathetic and loyal to a fault. And his friendship with Shaggy only strengthens as they realize they have more in common than they thought. And despite learning how to talk, he doesn’t even know why and assumes him being able to understand humans talk and talking himself is normal. He still has the mind of a dog, but it’s been expanded a little. Along with the fact he’s able to eat anything Shaggy can eat that would actually kill a dog.

Daphne Blake.

Voiced by: Kirby Howell-Baptiste (Infinity Train) 

Bio: The 20-year-old single daughter of the Blake family. Despite her family being wealthy known for selling fashion products, and while interested in being a supermodel. As a kid, she wanted to solve mysteries, yet hasn’t thought about it in a long time. But these days, she wants to be independent and is Sugi’s babysitter to make her own money.

Unknown to Daphne, Shaggy has a crush on her and wants to win her over. But worries she may reject him.

Fred Jones.

Voiced by: Roger Craig Smith (Resident Evil)

Bio: A 20-year-old jock. who is very levelheaded and intelligent. Yet not up to the level of Velma. He also has good leader skills but despises being called a “Meathead” and wishes more people knew that. He has an affinity for traps.

His father wants him to become a cop, yet he doesn’t want to. Which creates a strange relationship between him and his father.

Velma Dinkley.

Voiced by: Mae Whitman (The Owl House)

Bio: The 20-year-old eldest daughter of Nicole Dinkley, curator of the Coolsville Museum. Particularly a loner, studying criminology and one of Shaggy’s first friends. She joins up with the others to help them due to her expertise's in finding clues. And despite being a woman who is skeptic and more logical about things, she is fascinated with the witchcraft and the paranormal itself.

While she has a younger sister named Madylen who is going to a magic school. She also views Shaggy as a younger brother. 

Sugi Rogers.

Voiced by: Isabella Abiera (Infinity Train)

Bio: Shaggy’s 6-year-old adopted sister who’s more curious and less frightened than her older brother. She is also in on the secret that Scooby can talk along with the four young adults.

Simone Lenoir.

Lena Dupree.

Crystal.

The Hex Girls.

Casey Rogers.

Voiced by: Matthew Lillard.

Bio: Shaggy and Sugi’s father who was born in 1969. A police officer who is well-loved within the Coolsville community. Yet despite that, his personality is unlike his job. Considered to be very “Laid back” yet he talks about these insane stories that sound unbelievable tall tales to make people laugh. But in actuality, he’s a very emotional stable person.

Stefanianna Blake.

Voiced by: Grey Griffin.

Bio: Daphne’s mother who was born in 1969. She owns a fashion building and wants Daphne to focus more on leading the business.

Franklin Jones.

Voiced by: Frank Welker.

Bio: Fred’s father who was born in 1969. The sheriff of Coolsville and Casey’s partner. A strict parent who only wants the best for his son.

Nicole Dinkley.

Voiced: by: Kate Micucci.

Bio: Velma’s mother who was born in 1969. The Coolsville Museum curator who also owns a bookshop.

[redrobin-detective]

Midnight Meetings

Ben went from asleep to awake in an instant. Now normally when this happened, he was in the middle of a nightmare where someone was trying to kill him. Or, better yet, in an actual situation where someone was trying to kill him. He’d wake up, scared and angry with his right hand already slamming down on the Omnitrix even before he was fully awake. But this time, he was calm, peaceful. The unconscious part of his brain knew what had woken him and knew it was not something to fear but an unexpected joy. 

He heard the chittering again, a little louder this time. There was the scrape of little claws at his bedroom window, the soft sound of beating wings and the gentle crackle of ice climbing up the pane.

“Come on in,” he whispered but the small Necrofriggian had already phased through the window and landed rather forcefully on Ben’s stomach. “Ooof hello to you too, someone’s been getting extra helpings of solar plasma, haven’t they?” He teased, gently tangling his fingers along the baby’s delicate wings and twitching little antennae. 

Most of the time when Ben was awakened suddenly in the dead of the night it’s some sort of emergency. Sometimes, though, he gets a visitor. Or several. They came in groups sometimes, the largest being eight all at once but usually just one or two at a time. They’re still so small, their bodies too sensitive to heat that they fade fast in the light of Earth’s sun. So for now, Ben has to make due with midnight visits. He can’t even pretend to be upset about it. It was their special time. 

“Why am I not surprised it’s you, Little Chill?” Ben asked with a breathy little laugh as the alien brought up their tiny claws to bat playfully at Ben’s hands. He’d seen all his children at least once since their hatching, each of them coming for their own visit. His oldest only popped by one or twice and not for very long, Ben suspected they were only satisfying their own curiosity on their parent. The fifth had made multiple visits and loved to zip around his room and play with anything they could get their little claws on. Eight and Nine almost always came together, trading off between toying with him and toying with each other. Fourteen, the youngest and nicknamed Little Chill for his tiny stature, visited by far the most often. About every month and a half or so Ben could usually expect a visit from the littlest of his brood. 

“Don’t you get tired flying from Earth to space so often?” Ben questioned worriedly. He scooted the baby closer and examined them a bit more closely. However, their wings were intact, a bit longer from the last time and they seemed a nice healthy weight. Little Chill fluttered their wings lightly at his probing touch. They were still at that age where a parent’s fussing was enjoyable rather than annoying. Ben could only hope Necrofriggians didn’t end up resenting their parents in their teens like some humans did. 

Tired of being examined, Little Chill shook off his hands and crawled closer until they flopped on top of Ben’s chest. They breathed out a contented sigh, their wings draping over Ben’s shoulder and sides as if wrapping him in a hug. “There were are, baby, come to Mama,” Ben whispered quietly into his child’s fuzzy little head. It didn’t matter that they were different species, that Ben had fingers and toes while the baby had wings and claws. They came from him; they had Ben’s eyes, some of his habits and they had his heart, right from the moment he laid eyes on them. Little Chill chittered softly against his chest and gentle vibration seemed to fill his heart until it was fit to burst. Mothers were such simple creatures.

Maybe that’s why he liked these secret midnight meetings, when Ben and his babies were alone. He didn’t need to pretend that he was okay with his children being off alone in space even if it was normal for their species. Humans didn’t abandon their children so young and Necrofriggians usually never saw their parent again. But he wasn’t a true Necrofriggian and they were a little bit human and humans always came home to their mothers. He never claimed the title out loud but he felt it every time he held his little ones in his arms. Ben raked his fingernails up and down Little Chill’s back, between the wings and got some happy little clicks in response.

“That feel good?” Ben smiled softly. “Wait until those wings get a bit bigger; I’ll show you how to wrap yourself with them like Mama does.” He planted little kisses on their head, getting Little Chill’s mothy dust all over his cheeks but parenthood was often messy. Even for the heart. “Just for a bit, okay baby?” Ben whispered sadly against their head. “I’m too hot for you to lay on me for long and you need to get back into space before dawn.”

A simpering little whine as Little Chill nuzzled closer. They always seemed to get the gist of whatever Ben was saying just like Ben could sense the baby’s reluctance to end the cuddle session. He’s not sure if the understanding was an alien thing or a parent thing. Holding onto his little one, Ben turned to his side and held the tiny, little life close. The two of them breathing and existing together almost as one like they had once before. Ben had saved a lot of lives in his hero career but holding the lives he made himself always hit a little bit different. It made him wonder how his own mother let him walk out of the door every day knowing he very easily could not come back. 

Ben held on as long as he could until his high body temperature began to overheat the baby. Even panting a bit from the heat and their little wings twitching in discomfort, Little Chill still did not let go. It was Ben’s job to keep them safe even if it broke his heart to do so. He could change into Big Chill, let the visit last a little longer but it always made it harder to let go in the end. Another second enjoying the cool weight against him before he lifted the baby off of him and held them up in the air.

“Go on,” he said tenderly, giving them a little bounce like he was a normal parent with a normal child that he could keep. But he was a full time superhero, not to mention still something of a kid himself and Necrofriggians weren’t suited for Earth’s climate. These special little meetings, never long enough, would have to do. “Fly.” 

Taking the cue, Little Chill flapped their wings and rose out of Ben’s hands. He stretched his fingers out, chasing that last little bit of touch like an addict craving a high. They floated there a minute, chittering something or other that Ben did and didn’t understand. There was joy and sorrow, comfort and a plead to stay. Then they looked out the window, up at the night sky and found something else worth chasing. One last look at Ben and they phased out the window and were fluttering away towards the Earth’s atmosphere. Ben got up and crossed the room to watch their flight until they were nothing but another star in the sky. He rubbed his thumb on the leftover dust on his fingers and acted like his heart wasn’t breaking.

It would be better in the morning, it always was. He thought of them often, ached for them, but knew they were where they were supposed to be. It didn’t dull the pain of separation any less. It was still too early to get up so Ben Tennyson, hero of the universe, mother of 14, crawled back into bed and curled around the lingering cold spot left in the blankets and dreamt of fluttering wings and big, green eyes. 

[foreverdolly]

Stay-at-Home Sweater Dad Elvis fixin' peanut butter banana sandwiches for the kids 🥪🥪🥪

“Where is mama?” Teddy asked for the third time in a row, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He kicked his small leg back and forth as he gripped onto the doorframe, his little sock covered feet sliding against the tiled floors. Elvis let out a small sigh as he cut the sandwich in half, arranging the pieces on his children’s plastic plates. “She’s sick, baby. She’s upstairs resting in mama and daddy’s room.” He opened up the fridge, pulling out a container that had a few carrot sticks that Miss Mary had already cut up for the kids. He had decided to give the woman the day off, letting her get situated in her new home. Elvis had recently surprised her with a house of her own, buying it for her so that she wouldn’t have to keep living in an apartment complex. She made constant complaints about her younger neighbors being disrespectful, and Elvis didn’t take kindly to anyone treating his loved ones badly.

He placed a few on each plate before shoving it back in the fridge. You, your husband and your children had been spending a lot of time up at the Buddhist gardens recently, and seeing the way that they lived had inspired the both of you. You two were on a health binge, throwing out anything that contained unnatural sugars, dyes or large quantities of unhealthy fat. Which meant no bacon. It had been a difficult sacrifice for Elvis, but the man was thirty four and hadn’t felt this good in his entire life. 

Peanut butter had been the one thing that he refused to give up, and so you and Miss Mary had perfected a homemade recipe, which was made with honey rather than cane sugar. It was better than the jarred stuff, that was for sure. His love for peanut butter and banana sandwiches had been passed down to his children, and so whenever it was his turn to take care of the kids? They got what they wanted, because he spoiled them rotten. You pretended to be stern about his constant cooing and pampering, but he knew that you secretly loved it. “Why is she sick, daddy?” His son had an even stronger southern drawl than he did, but it was only because the six year old boy was missing his two front teeth. He smiled to himself before turning around, pointing the butter knife at him. “She got it from you, lil’ boy. Now you’re feelin’ better and runnin’ amok in the house. I liked you better when you were all sweet and cuddly two days ago.” Teddy wrinkled his nose, grinning up at his father before running over to his side, wrapping his arms tightly around his leg. Elvis reached his hand down, running his ring clad fingers through the boy’s hair. Your son was the spitting image of Elvis. Looked just like him to the point where it was a little scary sometimes. His mannerisms though? All you. 

“Where’s your baby sister, hm?” Elvis grabbed the plates, hobbling into the hallway that led down to the jungle room. Teddy was still clinging to his leg, refusing to let go. The father just dragged the kid through the house, used to his antics. “Daisy Lynn Presley! Get your tiny butt down here!” He called out, ducking his head into rooms to see if he could catch sight of his runaway toddler. The ebony haired man stumbled a bit as his son put all his weight on his leg, chuckling as he gently tried to kick him off. “You tryin’ to kill me, boy?” Teddy shook his head, giggling as he let go to run off in the direction of the jungle room, plopping himself down on the hideous couch so that he could be right in front of the television. Elvis handed the boy his plastic plate, placing the other one on the coffee table as he started his search. 

After he had checked the lower level of the house and found that the small girl was nowhere in sight, he began to grow panicked. He was quick to climb the stairs two at a time, but froze as he saw her small form in front of the closed bedroom door. She was sitting down on the carpeted floor, looking up expectantly at the door as she gently knocked every few seconds. You were probably passed out cold from all the cold medicine Elvis had given you this morning. Poor little thing- you were as sick as a dog. “Daisy girl, what are you doin’, baby?” He cooed, moving to reach down and pick her up. Weaning her off of her pacifiers had been an uphill battle, so when she started mumbling around the paci, he was quick to grab the end of it, pulling it out of her mouth. “You gave your daddy a heart attack. What were you thinkin’ climbing up the stairs all by yourself? You could fall.” He started his descent, and she was quick to look over his shoulder. “Mama!” She reached out with her small hands, motioning over towards the door. “Mama is sick, baby girl. I don’t want you to catch it.” There was nothing that Elvis hated more than seeing his family sick or injured. He felt bad for you, and had been checking in on you every hour, making sure to give your sweaty forehead extra kisses.

Elvis had seen just how bad off you were with your headaches and stuffy nose, and the last thing he wanted was for your small daughter to be just as bad. Her body was so tiny, afterall. “I’ve got peanut butter and banana sandwiches downstairs, baby. Let’s go watch some cartoons, alright? And then after that, we can go outside and play on the golf carts.” And with that he plopped his daughter down onto the couch next to his son, handing her half of the sandwich he had made for them. She was quick to abandon her pacifier, making quick work of the sandwich. Teddy had already finished his and was currently staring at the television, munching on his carrots. “You gotta eat all of those, alright?” The boy was too engrossed in The Muppets to pay any mind to his father. “Theodore, look at me when I’m talkin’ to you, baby.” Teddy turned his head, looking at his daddy before picking up another carrot. “That’s my boy.”

[sunfish-studies]

Cogs

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ VS Umbrella › | Next:  ‹ Celebration ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Last day of summer training camp is here!

For the first time, you’re kind of reluctant rising from the warm and comfortable futon you slept on. However, once you’re mind began to work and realizing yourself that you’re still in the training camp, you jolted awake almost instantly–removing the blanket and began tidying up.

Gathering your facewash and toothbrush to freshen up, you found yourself yawning in between–it’s not just you fortunately, because Yachi did the same.

“I’m sure you’re pretty tired, Hitoka-chan, [Name]-chan,” Shimizu giggled at both of you. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes! We’re sorry!” Yachi was quick to apologize for the both of you.

“Today’s the last day, so let’s do our best.”

“Right!” this time, you’re the one who answered her.

Yachi said she was going on ahead, and that left you still tidying up–you’re thinking of just packed everything because in the evening, you’re already be on your way back to Miyagi. That and Takeda-sensei informed the managers about something so you would have no time to pack freely. After you finished everything, you finally could freshen up and start the day.

Descending downstairs towards the women’s bathroom, you bumped into Kageyama who went to fetch on something he left behind.

“Oh, Kageyama-kun, morning.” You greeted.

“Morning, [Name]-san.” He replied with a nod.

“You seemed energetic, weren’t you practicing with Hitoka-chan the night before?”

“Oh, about that,” you could see the excitement glittering from his eyes, he definitely had good news to present because for the past few days the boy was frustrated. “The tosses finally worked. Coach Ukai gave me some directions and it worked.”

“Really? That’s great!” the excitement was infectious, alright. You knew Kageyama had been working extremely hard to make it successful and after days of failure, he finally nailed it–you were incredibly happy for him. “I can’t wait to see it!”

“If that dumbass could keep up that is,” the raven-haired boy them grumbled underneath his breath.

“Don’t worry, Shoyo-kun changed,” you assured him. “Him, you, and the whole team too. Even Tsukishima-kun. That’s why I can’t wait to see this new Karasuno and the new quick.”

“We will make that quick happen,” Kageyama stated without hesitation. “Because we want to go to the nationals.”

You smiled at him. “I have no doubt.”

.

.

“Uhm, not to be offensive, but,” you found your shoulders shook violently from you tried your best to withstand the urge to burst out laughing and rolling on the floor–it practically costed you your whole will to hold it. “Why are you drooling, Kageyama-kun?”

Yachi watched from the sidelines–you approached Kageyama to gave him his water bottle and from whatever you’re talking about with him, he seemed to be extremely embarrassed. Then the raved-haired boy proceeded to lean closer and whispered something beside your ear–which made Yachi squeaked.

“[Name]-chan and Kageyama-kun is quite close these days, right?” Shimizu suddenly said.

“Yes,” Yachi answered almost immediately. “[Name]-chan said Kageyama-kun asked for her advices and Kageyama-kun usually walked her home after club when it’s too dark.”

“Do you think something else happened between them?” Yachi couldn’t help but feeling fire engulfed her face instantly from Shimizu’s (not-serious) speculation.

“WHA-NO-HEEE!?”

“I’m just kidding, Hitoka-chan!” still, Shimizu pretty much enjoyed the extremely flustered girl’s reaction. “Oh, [Name]-chan, what did you talk about with Kageyama-kun?”

After distributing half of the water bottles, you jogged back to where Yachi and Shimizu stood. You tilted your head before snickering underneath your breath and answered. “He asked something about barbeque this afternoon.”

“How did he know!?” Yachi yelped because mainly the info was shared only between the coaches, who arranged the whole thing, and the managers, who’s in charge to prepare all the ingredients.

“Sawamura probably accidently eavesdropping the coach,” Shimizu pointed out, smiling. “By the way, Hitoka-chan shouldn’t you give the other half away?”

“I-I’M SORRY!!”

.

.

Final match for Karasuno was against Fukurodani–even from all the losses, the boys were still in high-spirits thanks to Sawamura’s short speech. You knew they wouldn’t be disappointed even though they loss so many matches because now they earned several new weapons for the preliminaries.

Through the match, you understood how Fukurodani is called a powerhouse–the players are skilled and knew the opportunities to score even when their receives a bit off. That and Akaashi truly lived up to his name as a setter in the line-up. Also, Bokuto’s insane angle of spikes were sights to see every time.

“That’s an insane cut shot,” Sugawara commented which made Yachi looked at him questioningly, thankfully Shimizu was ready with an explanation.

“Hitting at a sharp angle against three blockers is really tricky. It can be hard on your shoulders if they’re not flexible, too.”

“[Name]-chan, [Name]-chan! Did you see that!? Did you see my awesome cut shot!?” Bokuto called out way from the other side of the court, looking at you expectantly after he pulled-off the move. You glanced towards Sawamura in search of his approval to reply to the excited owl-captain, to which he nodded.

“I saw it!” You replied with a smile. “It’s amazing, Bokuto-san! Do you think you could hit like that again?”

“ANYTHING FOR [NAME]-CHAN!!”

You almost laughed at Akaashi’s look of disapproval, both at you and the owl captain and clearly sent the ‘don’t encourage him’ message to you indirectly. Surely, today’s match was filled with many surprises–Hinata’s feint attack, Kageyama’s unexpected dump, and even the one you’ve been waiting for; Hinata and Kageyama’s new quick. Both you and Yachi instantly screamed in pure glee–hugging each other in excitement.

“You did it! You did it!” Yachi even cheered and jumping. “Nice kill, Hinata! Kageyama-kun!”

“Nice toss, Kageyama-kun! Nice kill, Shoyo-kun! You two are amazing!” You added, grinning widely–the two have been practicing hard for three weeks, and those three weeks of cold-shoulder towards each other too. It was putting quite a strain but now, the two were finally back in action.

The two thrusted their fists to you and Yachi in reply–you two were probably the happiest ever currently.

And the excitement only lasts for a few minutes because they nailed it one time, but not so for another. Probably just luck, still it’s happiness though–they needed to practice more, however it wouldn’t be a problem for the two.

This also could be count as Karasuno’s lucky day–Nishinoya and Azumane’s back attack pulled off perfectly although it’s still out. The libero, of course, was very much frustrated. The synchro-attack worked and you swore Tanaka was crying out of happiness and relief because he could score comfortably.

“Tanaka-san, nice kill!” you cheered, which made him perked up and then laughing in victory.

“Thanks, [Name]-chan!”

From all the matches you’ve watched, Karasuno clearly made a difference in this one–they’re in their top shape. When the score reached 18 for either team, a technical timeout was commenced. Both you and Yachi immediately worked on distributing water bottles and towels.

“Good work, Tanaka-san, Nishinoya-san!” you said, handing them their water bottles.

“Ryu!” Nishinoya suddenly gripped his chest tightly. “Our manager just praises us!”

“I’m feeling blessed, Noya-san!” Tanaka replied, mimicking the libero–and here you thought the heat maybe started getting into them. You panicked for absolutely no reason and then decided to excuse yourself.

“Good work today, Tsukishima-kun,” Tsukishima nodded and muttered a thank you in reply, taking the water bottle from your hand.

“…Is there a way to make your finger stays in place while doing one-touch?” now you’re surprised because he made an attempt to ask first, however you didn’t let it show because you knew how it would piss him off.

“You could tape it to made it stiff enough to receive one-touch,” you suggested in the end. The taller boy hummed in reply before giving you the water bottle back so he could return to the match.

The next match wasn’t going well–for the other team that is. You noticed how Bokuto seemed to be agitated and rash with his moves–he almost hit his teammate with his serve, demanding tosses from Akaashi, and finally, third time’s the charm, when he failed scoring from hitting the net instead. Another score for Karasuno, who managed to turn the match to their favor for the leading score of 20.

“W-was that a block?” Yachi questioned.

“No…” Shimizu replied, rather taken aback by the event. “It didn’t seem to make it over the net, so it was spike miss,”

“Bokuto-san, I mean #4’s movement is also unnatural,” you commented, making the two managers turned to look at you. “He’s been rushing things and has been on the edge ever since the time-out.”

“Now that you’re talking about it…” Shimizu nodded in agreement.

“Akaashi, don’t toss to me anymore!” Bokuto exclaimed, which sounded extremely out of place in the middle of a volley match. Sure, it not only confuses you but your whole team even Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei.

“Do you know about this, [Name]-chan?” Yachi asked and you shook your head immediately.

“No, this is the first time I’ve seen Bokuto-san acts like that,” you answered. “And it looks like the team’s already used to this.”

True to your words, the team played like usual as if nothing happened–Bokuto only stared and follow the ball dazedly while the other working to attack and defend. What’s more amazing, with the lack of Bokuto’s participating they’re just as strong–something you would expect from a powerhouse school.

It caught your team off guard for a bit, however on the other hand, Tsukishima also wasn’t fazed a bit–could be seen from how he managed to shut out an incoming spike from #7. If Karasuno scored another, it would be deuce and a chance to turn the tables.

“Nice block, Tsukishima-kun!” you exclaimed, earning a glance and nod from the said boy.

When Asahi went for a usual serve rather than jump-serve, you understood he didn’t want to mess up their chance at winning. Fukurodani’s libero received in cleanly and Akaashi immediately went for a high-toss. Noticing how Tsukishima rushed towards the left, you knew your team lowered their guard.

“The left! Don’t let it open!” you yelled almost instinctively. Yachi’s soul jumped out of her body from your sudden loud voice, even Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei was taken aback for a few seconds. Bokuto blew the blocker away because they’re only 1.5 block, it’s not even enough to had a one-touch. He killed it with a straight shot down the court and Fukurodani won with two points leading.

Disappointment flared in your team–from the ones on the court, the ones watching from the sidelines, even Takeda-sensei. Coach Ukai could only sigh, Shimizu resumed with her notes, and Yachi felt her shoulders slumped. You smiled bitterly at the turn out events.

“Whoo! Ace!”

“You’re so cool!”

“Nothing beats the ace in the end!”

Fukurodani’s team members started throwing compliments and it made you blinked in confusion–moreover, Kaori and Yukie even jumped in to join.

“Birds of prey!”

“Your hair’s like a great-horned owl!”

Was that supposed to be a compliment…?

“Otohaku-san…!” the call was in a form of a hissed whisper and unexpectedly came from Akaashi himself. The message he sent to you was clear, ‘please, help us this time’–you replied indirectly with pointing to yourself with a look of disbelief present on your face.

‘Me!? What should I say!?’

‘Anything. Just praise him.’

Probably taking a bit pity for the setter, Sawamura nodded to your direction and gave you a smile of reassurance. You wanted to cry from how compassionate he’s being–bless his beautiful soul. That and the look of doneness and a little pleading from Fukurodani’s team was extremely hard to reject.

“Y-You’re amazing! Nothing less from top ace of Japan!” You wanted to slap yourself from the poor excuse of praise. Thankfully it seemed to work magic because Bokuto was instantly revived back to his cheerful and boisterous persona.

“I’m the best afterall!!” he cheered, laughing in victory. “Hey, hey, hey!”

Meanwhile, Akaashi took his sweet time to get off the court to fetch his drink and towel. Although, he did give you slight a bow of gratefulness. In the end, it’s losses all the way for Karasuno, however they acquired several weapons to fight on the national court–it’s not overall a loss because they also gained something new in exchange.

“[Name]-chan! I’m the best, right!?”

“You sure are, Bokuto-san.”

“Stop bothering Otohaku-san, Bokuto-san.”

[the-kingshound]

The third Arch Deleted Scene

The snippet here is a bit rushed at the beginning and in some other parts, as I did not want to go into even more spoiler territory. If you want to send me asks about this please be sure to advertise them as spoiler at the beginning, since not everyone will want to read them.

SPOILER

TW: blood, injury, poisoning, strong language.

3rd Arch – the seventh Trial

 Your stomach was knotted by dark swirling anxiety from the moment Arthur announced the diplomatic visit. You were familiar with the House, it kept being, after all, one of the most influent beside yours before and after the Emperor’s fall. This did not mean anything, though. Your homeland was beautiful but deadly, ready to swallow anyone whole to quickly digest them.

You promised yourself you were going to be at Arthur’s side at all times, and that’s precisely what you are doing now.

 Four days in, and the only major threat has been the amount of people wanting to interact with you. For the most part, Arthur smoothly deflects them to himself, for which you are endlessly grateful. You’re not in the mood to socialize, instead you keep on high alert, especially against the House leader and formal Ambassador.

You do not think he will pull anything while you’re here, after all you grew up together and you respected each other deeply, but one cannot be too cautious when the King is concerned – as demonstrated by the multiple scars that litter your body. You would go through all of it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping your King safe, but all you can do for now is stay by his side and keep the risks at minimum.

For this reason, when the Ambassador proposes a meal together with both yours and his knights, you are instantly weary.

“I don’t like this one bit, Arthur.”

“Me neither,” agrees Evaine, all the while lazily making their dagger spin on the table.

“I don’t deny that is not an ideal situation. On the other hand, a wrong move on their part would jeopardise their own negotiation,” counters Arthur as Morien finally snaps, blocking Evaine’s wrist with a tight grip and hissing an irritated “stop fooling around, for God’s sake!”

Evaine pouts. Yniol ignores them in favour of the matter at hand “they are certainly going to outnumber us, but if they wanted to attack us head on they would have done so before now, there were better opportunities. MC?”

You really think it through before answering “I wouldn’t put it past the Ambassador to try something, direct or more subtle, while we’re so exposed and out of our physician. Lania is not the head of his House for nothing, but aside from that he was always particularly attached to the Empire. We can’t afford to underestimate him.”

“Yes, yes” interjects Morien, having by now freed Evaine’s hand and left the table, dismissing themselves from the meeting “I’ll be prepared in any case. I swear you manage to hurt yourselves everywhere we go.”

And so dinner begins. It is a boring affair, but you won’t let yourself relax until it’s over. You sip on your wine, closely inspecting the hosts for any sudden or unusual movement. You find none, but you stiffen and your brows furrows. There’s something strange in your mouth, something strangely… bitter.

Time seems to freeze in front of your eyes. With an uncoordinated, panicked movement you jerk on the table and bat away Arthur’s cup, spilling its content on the table.

You place your hand on the table to support you as you rise, your dilatated pupils numbly fixed on the red liquid that’s quickly staining the tablecloth. It feels like an hour but actually only a second has passed before you regain your senses.

“Seize them.”

Arthur and his Knights are no longer seated by now, but the Ambassador’s men have drawn their weapons as well and pointed them to your delegacy, effectively halting their movements. You see icy red and do not spare another glance at the man now placed on your back while you snarl in the envoy direction.

Placing your fingers on the hilt of your sword, you hiss an enchantment to track the magic residue and the culprit is revealed in front of your eyes. Ignoring the taste of iron on your tongue, you spit out another enchantment and the room’s door is locked close with a lout snap. They will not get away.

Unfortunately, you lack the ability to free Arthur and the Knights, you are now surrounded and painfully outnumbered, but you know they can hold on until you have taken care of the threat at hand. You cough blood and half crash on the floor, but you ignore the alarmed voices of your Knights and crawl in the Ambassador’s direction.

How dare he. How dare.

“My, Lord…”

“Let them,” a voice says to your back “they will not go far.”

“How dare you” your breaths are ragged, your intestines raw and burning, your voice rough for the acid that invades your throat. The Ambassador’s face is a mask of contempt and stony resolution. He watches, halting his men while they try to block you, as you half-crawl to him, gripping with iron strength the wooden chairs to keep yourself upright.

“I have the upper hand, King Arthur. I’m afraid you are in no position to make such demands.”

“Release us, and call a physician for my spouse, and I will consider letting this incident go without consequences.”

Arthur’s voice is steady, calm and there is only a hint of something sharper, at least for now.

You can’t see your King, but the sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine. They tried to kill him. The House you grew up to respect is full of nothing more than vile traitors.

As your strength start to waver, you lose your balance and crush to the ground with the chair you were pushing your weight on. Still, you get up again and you and fix your gaze on the second born, now Ambassador and traitor “I’ve had enough of you.”

You take a shuddering breath, your lungs filled with blood that’s now spilling over to your lips as you speak, but the pain you feel is nothing compared to the hot, blinding rage that’s consuming your every thought. Still, your voice is, as ever, cutting cold “you invite us here, offering a pacific discussion, and all you provide are poison in our drinks and weapons against my Knights and my King’s throat. You’ve exhausted my patience, Lania.”

You see him flinch at the use of his name. You remember a time long gone when you played together as kids, swearing you would be the ones to restore the Empire uniting your two Houses. Now these are broken promises and rotten friendships.

“MC,” the Ambassador says, “it’s over, you have to understand that.”

“Oh, you just wait,” interjects Evaine, almost immediately silenced by the Ambassador’s men.

You cough and choke on blood, and you can feel the physical weight of Arthur’s and the Knights’ worried eyes on your back, but you exhale and grip tighter your sword’s hilt. A wave of raw power invades your body and you are able to focus again.

“You know what I’m capable of, what I am willing to do for my King,” your voice is almost devoid of intonation, save for unforgiving hardness. His gaze falls on your non dominant arm and then on your throat, scarred by a thin horizontal line “I will gut you and feed you to my hounds. You’ll die like the backstabbing coward you are.”

They know as well as you do that you don’t make empty promises. There is a rustle around you that culminates in a sharp sigh from the Ambassador and swords pointed at your neck.

“Must we really do this, MC? I cared for you once, but you know that I will not hesitate to strike you down if you give me reason to do so.”

You don’t draw black nor move a single muscle, your eyes find Arthur’s blue ones and you find the King is dangerously immobile, his fingers brushing against Excalibur’s hilt in what could be mistaken for a soothing caress. When he speaks, his voice bears nothing else but firm command “you will not do that.”

Lania cocks his head to the side, appearing quite unbothered “oh?”

“How is your sister, Ambassador?”

At the same time as Lania stills, you blink. A violent cough than shakes your chest, and when your senses are fully back and you can breathe again Arthur has kept going with the same calm, calculated demeanor “I want to remind you that together with the Lord the wedded she’s now head of the Merthian feud, the nearer one to the south-eastern border.”

“What does it-“

“I am the one in control of the knights tasked with their protection. As per the arrangement we signed weeks ago, the border is under Camelot’s defence. But if I die, or if my spouse dies, my knights will retire, Ambassador.”

Oh, Arthur is not King for nothing. He is striking where it hurts the most – family – without even an drop of blood shed. You don’t hide a proud, feral smile at this. Almost immediately, blood invades your throat again, you can feel its taste on your togue, but you shove the pain back where it started in your burning stomach. You shiver. You love and hate seeing your King like this.

Lania swiftly unsheathe a long, curved dagger and you are immediately ready to bolt– swords to your throat be damned, you’ve had worse – but he makes no move in Arthur’s direction for now.

“Figured you had to hit low to get a reaction.”

“Release us,” Yniol commands, standing tall near the King.

“No” spits out Lania, his composure now fully broken “you stole our independence and our pride, Pendragon, you humiliated us and stripped our Houses of the opportunity to unite again. You are every bit of your father’s blood!”

He then turns to you, his eyes frantic, his expression pained and almost feral “I thought you were on my side!”

Blood rushes to your ears, a high-pitched whistle the only thing you’re able to hear at the moment. You feel sick. Sicker than before – sicker than what you’ve felt in years. You spit blood on the floor, your answer is weak and unnaturally subdued, “it was a- a long time ago.”

“We were like siblings!”

You can’t say anything, you only choke on your words. All that you manage to do is keep yourself upright only thanks to your sword.

“They are right, you really are your King’s hound, nothing more than Camelot’s bitch,” he tries the next word in his mouth like they were both foul and inevitable “the haghàn bajek*.”

Your vision is overcome by whit spots, your skin hot and freezing cold.

“Kill them all.”

You force yourself to focus. Protect your Knights. Protect your King.

After that it is pure, unbidden chaos. You tighten your grip on your sword, assessing where you’re needed the most. With the corner of your eye you spot Arthur, he’s a beautiful fighter, he is no match for – Lania.

Your magic flares alongside most of your nerve endings as you sprint in his direction, interjecting his blow with your own weapon. Unfortunately, the Ambassador is a skilled opponent and you’re already considerably weakened, all you can do is channel in your arms the strength of your steel determination to not let him reach your King.

“Stop trying to defend an enemy, MC!”

“Stop trying… to kill him.”

You are barely managing to defend yourself when Lania strikes back. You catch the dagger with your arm, it pierces through your skin just over your elbow but it won’t reach its intended target. No one will hurt your King while you’re still breathing. No one.

Pain paralyzes your arm, your breath is stuck in your throat together with a blood clot that feels intrusive and that fills you with panic. The finishing blow never comes, though. As you inhale again, you refocus on the room’s occupants and notice how Arthur’s Knights have the clear upper hand.

“Ah, and you thought you could beat the Round Table so easily,” Evaine all but purrs in a knight’s ear “that’s precious.”

“Stand down” Gawaine commands “you’re surrounded.”

You can hardly distinguish the shapes of your own knights, you’re nauseous, your stomach and throat are on fire. You fall down on your knees, exhausted and hurt. You feel like you’re going to throw up–

“MC’”

Where is Lania, where is –  

“Wh-where…?”

“Kai, get Morien here, please.”

Arthur’s voice is soothing, as ever, but tainted with worry. You can’t make his face out. There are arms supporting your weight, not his but equally familiar – Yniol?

“It’s going to be alright, dear.”

It’s the last thing you hear before the world goes black.

  *haghàn bajek = [REDACTED] traitor

[spyder-m]

Lesson Learned

A03

Summary: Ichika talking (tricking) Ikkaku into agreeing to train her. .

Ikkaku scowled, not pleased with being interrupted on his way to drill the new hopefuls for the Eleventh. He was already late as it was, having gotten lost trying to navigate his way around the barracks.

Though, he couldn't deny he was curious. The sight before him was strikingly familiar. Though much smaller, the head of crimson hair bowed before him was nearly identical to one he'd seen years before, tied back in a similarly wild ponytail. Dressed in a Shihakusho with a Zanpaktou resting at her hip, the young girl somehow managed to perfectly replicate the stance her father had taken all those decades ago when he asked Ikkaku to help train him.

Ikkaku rose an eyebrow, surprised.

Despite her young age, the Abarai brat was proud and brash. He hadn’t thought she could ask for something with such respect and humility. Her bow may have seemed stiff and unnatural, lacking the poise regal air you’d expect from someone tied so closely to the Kuchiki family, yet she persisted. Clearly, this meant a lot to her.

Either that or she was only doing so under the instruction of her father, who stood a short distance behind away, watching on with a fond smile.

Catching the man's eye briefly and earning a sheepish grin, Ikkaku scowled. He had thought that once Renji finally found the balls to confess to Kuchiki, he wouldn't have to hear about the man’s problems anymore. Though, he'd thought the same after having helped train him. Yet, lo and behold, here he was, trying to shirk his daughter off onto him.

It was just one thing after another with this guy.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the man's presence, seeing as how close Ichika was to him.

Being a Lieutenant, Renji didn't have as much on his plate compared to his wife. Before the kid's birth, Kuchiki had not only taken over the 13th after Ukitake's untimely passing but also been tasked with deciding on someone to fill the now-vacant Lieutenant position.

As such, Ichika had spent much of her younger years around the 6th Division, led by both her father and Uncle. It was the most convenient arrangement.

It also didn’t hurt that the stoic captain appeared to have a soft spot for his niece.

As if sensing his daughter's nerves, Renji knelt down, reaching a hand out to rest atop the girl’s head. Her eyes widened, flickering up toward her father, but seeming to relax underneath his touch, the rigid tension in her back and arms easing. Renji held her gaze in a disconcerting sight. As he, a Lieutenant revered for his strength and efforts in the Quincy War, regarded the girl with soft, doting eyes.

If he weren't so taken aback, Ikkaku might have gagged.

Fatherhood had made the man soft.

"Come on, Ichika," Renji encouraged warmly. "Just like we practiced."

Her nerves seemingly alleviated, Ichika looked back to Ikkaku, a firm, resolute expression settling in her face. Her head bowed once more, this time finding the strength to voice her request.

"Madarame-san, please train me."

Ikkaku blinked. Though he wouldn't care to admit it, he had been intrigued by the fire that flickered briefly in her eyes; the same grit and determination he'd often seen from her father.

There was definitely potential there. Something that, with the right guidance, could be fostered into true strength.

Still, Ikkaku shook his head, he would have to refuse.

He'd only just been promoted 11th Division's Lieutenant and was still adjusting to the extra responsibility and duty the role brought. He didn't have time to babysit. Particularly, when he wasn't convinced that Renji wasn't just doing this in the hopes of getting some time alone with his wife.

Besides, it's not like Ikkaku dealt well with children to begin with. Most human children, or passed-on ones he encountered in Rukongai, seemed scared of him.

The only exception had been Kusajishi, who had made it her life's mission to torment him. Otherwise, he and children tended to keep a distance from one another; an unwritten, mutually beneficial agreement.

For that reason, he couldn't imagine he’d take well to training any child, let alone one born from Renji and Kuchiki. The lessons would surely be the stuff of nightmares. They'd likely be loud, stubborn and randomly break off in the middle of fights to pose. Obnoxiously.

So, Ikkaku wasn't interested. No matter how much Ichika begged.

Still, he did respect the courage it must have taken and the lengths she had gone to ask this of him. Maybe one day, when she had some more battle experience under her belt, Ikkaku would be more open to taking on the task.

Until then, he decided he would let her down gently. At least, by his standards, that is. Dipping his knees to meet Ichika’s height, Ikkaku began.

"Sorry, kid, but you're going to have to look elsewhere to play fight. I only train serious warriors."

Going in, Ikkaku had braced himself for her reaction, knowing she would not take the news well. He had expected Ichika to yell, to call him bald and maybe even kick him in the shin.

These were all reactions he could handle.

What he wasn't prepared for, though, was the girl to look up at him with tears in her eyes, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke in a shaky voice.

"B- but Papa said you would be able to train me."

The words pulled uncomfortably at Ikkaku’s chest, taken by a rare flash of guilt as the young girl began to weep.

His eyes darted hopelessly toward Renji, hoping that he would step in. Yet, despite being quick to comfort the kid earlier, Renji now stood firm, his lips set in a tight, resolute line. From the way his jaw was clenched, it seemed like he was struggling. As though the desperate cries of his daughter were tugging at every paternal instinct he'd hoped, screaming out for him to comfort her. But, for whatever reason, he was pushing them down, deliberately keeping a distance.

Ikkaku shook his head. He didn't understand, but it didn't matter. If Renji wasn't going to calm her down, he would just have to ignore it.

Ikkaku was a disciplined fighter. He had tested both his body and will through much harsher in the pursuit of strength. This was nothing.

Ichika was still only a child. She didn't have the patience or mettle to keep at this for long. Eventually, she would tire herself out.

Besides, he had heard that it was good to let kids cry themselves out. It built character and made them less dependent on others. If anything, he was doing right by ignoring her.

Yet, despite his best efforts to block his ears and screw his eyes closed, the girl's cries only grew louder and more insistent. Ikkaku could feel a twitch building in his forehead as he sensed people starting to slow down and crowd the halls, wondering what the commotion was.

The scene was growing disruptive, distracting his offers from training or tending to their duties. That was a problem.

Eventually, gritting his teeth, Ikkaku relented, if only to cease the girl’s obnoxious whining.

"Hey!" He called, before realising his tone of voice might upset her more. "Hey. Stop crying, okay? No, damni- Look. Fine, okay? Fine, I'll do it. Now, could you just shut up-"

Much to Ikkaku's confusion, Ichika's head then lifted, her face suddenly brightening.

Soon, girl was leaping from her once proper and practiced stance, to pump her fist in the air with a cheer. Running into her father’s waiting, open arms, she wrapped herself up in his triumphant embrace.

"He said yes, papa!"

"Atta girl, Ichika!"

Ikkaku blinked, dumbfounded, still processing the scene before him.

He knew that some children had short attention spans, abruptly and rapidly moving from one thing to the next. But, he wasn’t sure that this was the case.

The shift in Ichika’s mood had been too sudden and seamless for him to believe.

His gaze lifted toward the girl in Renji's arms, closely studying her face. The only evidence of her earlier outburst were the tear tracks that stained her cheeks. Otherwise, her eyes were now completely dry.

There was no way those tears had been real.

Now that he thought about it, he remembered Ichigo mentioning Kuchiki pulling a similar schtick back in the real world, on more than one occasion in order to get what she wanted. Was this something Ichika had learnt from her mother?

Ikkaku's train of thought was interrupted as Renji clapped him enthusiastically across the back.

"Great news, Ikkaku-san! Shall I bring her by tomorrow?"

Ikkaku could only gaze blankly ahead, as Renji carried his daughter away. Glancing over his shoulder, the girl pulled her eyelid down with her finger and stuck her tongue out.

Ikkaku growled, his grip tightening on the practice sword slung around his hip.

The poor, rookie hopefuls of Squad Eleven would have no idea the grim hell that awaited them in their training session, unaware that someone had just set off their Lieutenant's temper; his rage fuelled by one single thought.

That little shit had duped him.

[knifefather]

Looking Up at Us [Submission]

'Looking Up at Us

|*| DISCLAIMERS:  Hello! It me! This is my first fic ever. Uhhh, Giorno’s a giant dick and Narancia’s an angel (literally and figuratively :] ) So yandere-ish themes, manipulation, and other mean things. This is a three-year span after the events of VA. |*|'

I APPLAUD YOU ON YOUR FIRST FIC ANON!!! This one really hit me right in the feels :'') Honestly you wrote Giorno so well because I literally wanted to strangle him!! He reminds me so much of Dio here and I fucking love it. I can't believe he stole their song ;a; OP outlined the yandere and manipulation content warnings, but there is also some major character death! Please be warned!

  “Hey, when we get married let’s use that Aerosmith song.”

Narancia laughed as the smaller of the two let out an embarrassed squeal and tried burying her head deeper into his neck. They laid together on his bed in his rather untidy room talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds. But he was always so brash, and making her red was a favorite pastime of his. “Duuude, don’t even joke about that!’” she giggled, “We’re, still, ya know teens,” she emphasized that by flicking her hand around. He continued laughing, tightened his grip on her, and kissed the top of her head. Even if he was teasing the poor girl, he always meant what he said.

“You’d look really pretty in this dress I saw the other day. It wasn’t long as shit like those rich people…” Narancia slowly trailed off realizing she wasn’t responding. When he looked down at her, he saw she wasn’t smiling anymore and looked lost in her own thoughts. He wiggled away from her a little to look at her properly and softly called her name. “Hey, you good?”

“Promise me you’ll stay,” she looked at him earnestly and caught the poor boy off guard. What was going through that busy head of hers? He was speechless and for a moment he gawked at her. The frenzied teen then added with intensity, “You better stay with me forever and ever and and- I don’t- just… please..” And it finally clicked what she meant, and he gave her his biggest smile.

            “Don’t worry, miele! You’re gonna have to deal with me for a while,” he chimed as he pulled her closer and gave her another peck to her forehead. She looked up at him with watery eyes and smile, “I’d love nothing more. Just promise me, please?

            He leaned lower to kiss her softly on the lips. They both knew that was an impossible promise but still, “I’ll try my best.” He snuggled back up to her and they both slowly sunk back into the previous loving tranquility. They’ll both try, but mafia life was so unpredictable, but it’ll be worth the try if they could stay together.

“So, what are we gonna name our first kid?”

“Narancia Ghirga!!”

“Yeah, Mrs. Ghirga?” Narancia couldn’t stop laughing even as he was shoved off the bed.

              Three months. It’s been three months, but his voice still rings in her head. His goofy smile, bubbly laughter, his smothering hugs were all nothing but distant memories that no longer warmed her, but instead chilled her core. Their places where they caused mischief and held impromptu dates only held ghosts of what was and what could have been. These thoughts haunted her every waking moment. Even when she slept, they caused nothing but sweet dreams that left her bitter and empty in the morning. But Narancia wasn’t the only one she missed dearly. Finding Abbacchio in the state he was and running back full of hope to the colosseum only to find out Bruno was the final victim. But thanks to him, they find out he was actually the first. Giorno had admitted after their discovery that they had been travelling with a reanimated corpse. At the time her, Mista, Trish, were too busy crying to even care.

            For the new Don’s first year, she was present. When Fugo returned, she welcomed him with open arms. She stayed for as long as could but looking at Giorno mad her sick. Violence and anger grew inside by just being around him and his voice made her gag. Staying there brought her closer to the edge as she struggled between collapsing into tears or killing her Don in a fiery fit. That’s when she distanced herself from everyone. Of course, it worried Fugo and Mista to death when the last surviving member of their gang suddenly went off the radar. Even if it was for the wellbeing of everyone there, it didn’t sit right with anyone. Especially Giorno Giovanna.

             The two-year absence was hell, for her anyways. At first jobs would take her resumes and interviews, but soon they would turn her away at sight of her face or sound of her voice. Her temporary apartment kicked her out and hotels refused service to the point she was forced to either stay in motels or rent somewhere for a while until they too kicked her out. When people started to whisper and gossip as she passed by, that was the final straw. It was lonely. It was frustrating! Was it because of the mafia association? No, that should guarantee a decent job and place to stay. And then it clicked. The root of her problems lies at the head of Passione.

              So, here the young woman stood in front of him, arms wrapped securely around herself, as Mista stood watching them at the closed entrance. Giorno’s grown, nearly six feet and obviously physically stronger than before. She squeezed tighter hoping to mimic Narancia’s hugs as she tried to gather her courage and find the words. For a while it was suffocating silence as no one dared to speak first. They were both strategizing, planning how to attack and counter the other’s words. But finally, the devil’s replacement spoke, “Hello, tersoro. I’m glad to see you’re-“

“Cut the crap. I know what’re you doing. Stop it.” And with that she turned to leave. Mista stepped out the way to let her go until a soft laugh stopped her, “Are you still torn up about them? Really?” She stopped and slowly turned to face him. She finally snapped.

            “Are you serious?” She spat at him. “Why wouldn’t I be upset that you killed my friends? My family?!”

            “The love of your life?” She glared at the blonde as he had the audacity the smile at the thought of their deaths. In that moment, she wanted to kill him. Her stand was at the ready. Mista didn’t even attempt to reach for his gun as he knew she wouldn’t do something stupid like that, but he, too, thought of shooting Giorno as well. Giorno tsked and slowly walked around his desk to lean against the front of it, showing just how little her threat meant to him. “My dear, you don’t understand. They were steppingstones to help change Passione for the greater good.”

“Steppingstones?! Don’t act like their bodies were your path to “greatness”! What exactly have you fixed, huh? There are SEVEN more assassin squads. You haven’t stopped drugs like you promised Bruno. Instead, you’ve barely stopped selling it kids ten and under! Don’t act like they were your sacrifices!”  The rage burned inside her, and she could no longer control her words. “Why did they have to go to heaven, huh?! They deserve to be here, not you! Bruno should be where you are! Leone should’ve left you die! Narancia should be back in school! It’s all your FAULT!” They both lunged at Giorno only for GER to grab the opposing stand and for Giorno to effortlessly grabbed her fist. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist and the other then swooped in and tilted her head up to kiss her ever so softly.

            “My, my such a temper,” he murmured, “I’ve always loved that about you.” In that moment all the fire that was built up for years turned ice cold, as fear gripped her insides. She wasn’t expecting this strength. Wide eyes stared up into the unnatural turquoise of his. He slowly turned her head from side to side, as if examining her. “You poor thing. You look so tired and overworked,” and she was. “I bet those horrible businesses could see it on you. Turned you away like street trash. Poor, poor thing.” The young woman’s voice had left her as she tried to process everything. Just what was he planning?

            “D-Don’t act like you didn’t do all that crap to me” She hated the sudden stutter in her voice but was thankful words even came out. The young woman started fighting in his grip which caused him to tighten. “Let me go! What was that kiss?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” But she was only met with a chuckle. As he spun her around and pressed her back against his chest. “My dear, I was only trying to bring back what was mine. Tesoro, mia. So independent. We’ll have to break that.” She fought harder and let out a cry of pain as Giorno dug his fingernails in the meat of her cheeks, getting annoyed at her fighting spirit.

            “Now, I want you to listen to listen to me. I really don’t want to repeat myself,” he nipped her neck, “nor do I want to hurt more than I should.” Giorno leaned closer and whispered, “You’re mine. I’ve loved you for too long to let you get away and whore around like you did with him.”  He shoved her to the ground and held her there with his foot, pressing harder with every squirm. “Go against me, and your little angelo will be dug up, burned, and flushed down a portable. Or maybe I’ll finish off the rest of your gang.” She struggled to look up at him as he glared down at her. His mouth quirked into a smirk as he spoke again, “Whose to say mafioso even go to heaven, hm? My sweet, delusional darling.” Giorno dropped to the floor and scooped her up in his arms again hugging her tightly. She was too scared to fight back. Not knowing what would set him off. He quietly laughs at how broken the poor woman was. So easy to break in already.

            “Let me take care you. Love you. Cherish you like you deserve. You’ll learn to love me.” He gripped her arms in a bruising grasp and whispered dangerously smooth, “Or you’ll die trying.”

___________________________________________

Her wedding gown shimmered and swayed gently as she and her new husband made their way to the center of the dance floor. Each step weighted heavy on her heart as the gravity of it all grew. Their movements were calculated and coordinated, just like everything else because it was all artificial for her. There was no true love, no true feelings in this forced arrangement. No more fight in her dull eyes that refused to make eye contact with anyone because then they would see just how much he’s broken her in just a year. One wrong move will surely be the one she’ll ever make.

No one in the ballroom could see the despair ripping away whatever dignity was left as she wrapped her arms around his neck or the bile she choked back as he greedily slipped his arms around her waist. If only she could keep tightening her arms like a noose until he was no more but a horrid memory. The room was filled with ‘awws’ and loving gazes as the couple settled gracefully into the position they had practiced many a times before. She finally turned her emotionless gaze to him. Giorno Giovanna chuckled at her. His new wife was so dramatic.

“And now the newly weds will share their first dance together!” someone, who she didn’t care enough to learn their name, announced as if he was getting paid on his excitement and not on the fact if he squealed, he gets killed. She closed her eyes as the crowd cheered, swallowed her sickness, and sighed. She made it this long without throwing up or crying, she can get through this dance.

 “The groom has picked this song out specifically for his new, beautiful wife. Isn’t that romantic?” The crowd cheered and clapped in blissful ignorance at the display of affection. The bride’s eyes snapped open at this new revelation and stared in shock at Giorno who only smiled. But when the music began, her heart finally burst. Tears welled and spilled freely down her cheeks as that Aerosmith song, their song, played and she was forced to move to its now bittersweet beat. Giorno’s wife shakily looked up at him and chocked on her tears.  Once again, chuckled and lean in to whisper with honeyed venom his final victory,

“Oh miele, I bet he’s looking up at us right now, amore mio.”

(OK Tumblr formatting is weird but I wanna add: Yes it Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that Narancia and darling picked as their first dance which Girono stole. And Narancia was the only one allowed to call darling Miele as an inside joke for “Honey! I’m Home”. Also WHY WAS THIS 2K+???)

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 8)

Chapter summary: When Aaron gets stuck at work late and Jess has to go help out her dad, Aaron has nobody else to turn to but you to watch Jack. The only problem? Up until now, Aaron has been keeping his home life completely separate from you, and you have no clue how this will effect your already precarious relationship with Aaron.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: This was not part of the original plan at all for this story, but I couldn’t get it out of my head.

masterlist || read on ao3

In between What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine Love is so confusing, there's no peace of mind If I fear I'm losing you it's just no good You teasing like you do - Blondie, “Heart of Glass”

~~~~~~~ 

You were on your couch doing homework when you got the call from Aaron, and you frowned in confusion when you saw his name flash across your cell phone screen. Aaron never called you while he was working, and you especially didn’t expect a call from him today. He was doing a custodial interview with an inmate sentenced to death somewhere in Virginia, and you figured prison didn’t have the greatest cell service.

 “Hey there, jailbird,” you greeted. “Are you inviting me to the dance?”

“Very cute, Elvis,” Aaron joked, but it was half hearted. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I need to ask you for a favor, and I want you to know that I wouldn’t be asking you if I had any other options.”

“Mhm, I love being the last choice,” you mused sarcastically. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Aaron.”

  Aaron elected to ignore your last comment. “The prison just went on lockdown, so I’m going to be stuck here for at least a few more hours,” he explained, and there was an unnatural nervousness to his voice. “And Jessica has to go deal with an emergency with her father.”

You frowned to yourself, unsure of where Aaron was going with his explanation, and even more unsure of who this Jessica person was. A pang of jealousy shot through you, but you quickly bottled that feeling. 

 Aaron took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “Would you be willing to watch Jack for a few hours? I know it’s not ideal, but it would just be for a little while until either I get out of here or somebody else from the BAU gets off of work. I would even be willing to compensate you for your time.”

Oh.

OH.

Silence crackled through the phone as you took in his request, and you could practically feel Aaron’s nervousness. It shouldn’t have been as big of a deal as it was. It had been two months since you’ve been with Aaron, you slept over at his house enough, and you worked in the same building as him. It was pretty inevitable that of course you were going to meet Jack at some point, but you always figured it would be with Aaron there to mediate. You had pictured that it would probably be accidental, maybe Jack would wake up early and would catch you sneaking out of Aaron’s house. Or you would be invited to one of Rossi’s famous dinners and the kids would be there and then there would be no questions asked. You definitely didn’t expect to babysit.

“Yeah, of course, I can watch him,” you said finally, and you heard Aaron let out a sigh of relief. “And you don’t have to pay me… or worry about finding a replacement. He can hang out with me for as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” Aaron told you, still sounding completely drained. “I will send your address to Jessica, and she will drop Jack off at your place in about half an hour. I really owe you, Y/N. I have to go talk to the warden now, but please call me if you need anything, okay? Bye.” Before you could even answer, Aaron hung up.

You took a deep breath as dread settled in the pit of your stomach. How hard would babysitting be, really? You’ve babysat before - Aly had a little brother who basically became your little brother. However, a weird part of you was nervous that Jack wouldn’t like you, which was ridiculous. It didn’t matter whether or not Jack liked you.

Right?

Deciding that you couldn’t just sit there and panic, you chose to use the time to tidy up your apartment, just to make it extra presentable. The organized mess that was your homework space was quickly arranged so that all of your notebooks and papers were in a neat pile. You took down the half empty tequila bottle from forever ago that was sitting on the top of your fridge and shoved it into a cabinet somewhere. The throw blanket that you had been wrapped up in was refolded and placed on the arm of your couch. You wanted to at least give the illusion that you were prepared to babysit Aaron’s son, and not completely freaking out inside.

Right on schedule, knocking came from your door, and you rushed to open it. You were greeted by a blonde woman, probably a few years younger than Aaron, who you assumed to be Jessica. Next to her was the elusive Jack, with his blonde hair and missing front tooth. You had seen a few photos of Jack in passing, hanging up around Aaron’s house and whatnot, but you never got a good look at the photos.

“Y/N?” Jessica asked cautiously, and you nodded slowly. “Hi, I’m Jessica, Jack’s aunt.”

Jack’s aunt. A million emotions hit you at once. Oh god, she was Haley’s sister. Your stomach started to feel queasy, and it took you a second to realize that it was guilt, although you weren’t quite sure what you felt guilty about. 

Logically, you knew Aaron had a life outside of you. Hell, you had slowly become part of that outside life now that you were friends with his coworkers, but you really tried to avoid thinking about Aaron’s home life. When he wasn’t with you, it was out of sight, out of mind. He was his own individual entity.

Now you were face-to-face with just how insignificant you were in the grand scheme of Aaron’s life. The fact was that you were probably no more than a side storyline in his life, a character created just for Aaron’s own development. He had a life and a family that you barely knew about. There was evidence of his home life everywhere - the bins of toys at his house, drawings on his fridge, family photos in matching frames in the hallway, even a small jewelry box on his dresser that looked like it had been collecting dust for a few years - but you had gotten good at averting your eyes.

“Hi, yes, that’s me,” you replied, shaking Jessica’s hand. Then you bent down so you were closer to Jack’s height. “Hey dude, I’m Y/N,” you introduced, giving him a small wave.

Jessica took the backpack she was carrying and helped Jack slip it onto his shoulders. “Thank you again for doing this on such short notice. Aaron should have sent over my phone number if you need anything, but Jack’s a good kid. He just has some homework that he needs to get done,” she explained.

“It’s no problem,” you told her, giving her your best reassuring smile. “He’s in good hands here.”

Jessica smiled gratefully at you before kneeling down to say goodbye to Jack. You stood in the doorway awkwardly as you watched the interaction curiously. It was as normal as it could get, Jessica telling Jack to behave and that she loves him, but it also fascinated you, like you were watching a movie and all of the characters had popped out of the screen.

Jack gave his aunt a hug before she left, and the two of you stepped into your apartment. That same nervousness came back in full force. What kind of games did he like to play? You didn’t have any toys for him. What if you couldn’t help him with his homework? Do kids his age learn fractions yet, because you did not remember fractions. What if-

“Woah!” came Jack’s voice, breaking you out of your spiraling. “Can I please sit on the bean bag chair?”

Well, Jack certainly wasn’t nervous, which offered you more relief than you thought it would. “Yeah, of course, you can. It’s my favorite place to do my homework.” 

Jack flopped onto the bean bag chair, his tiny frame almost completely consumed by it. You could see the confusion growing on Jack’s face. “You have to do homework?” Jack asked.

“Yup,” you told him. “And I know you do, too, so we can do homework together.”

Jack jutted out his bottom lip in a pout. “Will I have to still do homework when I’m old?”

At that, you let out a genuine laugh, even if you were a little shocked. The kid had personality, you had to admit. “I’m not that old,” you halfheartedly protested, “And maybe. It depends on what you want to be when you grow up.”

“I want to be a superhero,” Jack said matter-of-factly. “Like Spiderman.”

You nodded, the movement playfully exaggerated. “Oh, well Spiderman is really smart. I’m sure he does a lot of homework, so you better get to work. Let me know if you need any help, okay?” You chuckled again at Jack’s increased pout, obviously disappointed in the fact that even superheroes had to focus on school. 

Jack reached into his backpack and pulled out a pencil and a brightly colored folder with papers sticking out of it every which way. He started on his worksheets, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration, and it hit you just how much he looked like Aaron. The blonde hair threw you off, but you had seen that exact look on Aaron’s face many times, eyebrows together and lips pursed ever so slightly. Like father, like son. You had to resist the urge to audibly coo at the sight. You were only human, after all.

You tore your eyes away from the boy and glanced over at your laptop, which was sitting open on your coffee table, the cursor blinking back at you teasingly, reminding you that you also had to get to work. You had essays to write and practice contracts to draft up. The two of you did your work in comfortable silence for a while, Jack occasionally asking you to help him read the instructions of his worksheet.

“Done!” Jack exclaimed proudly after a while, holding his packet of papers high in the air.

Just in time, too, because if you had to do any more criminal tax litigation work, you were going to pull out your hair from boredom. There was only so much corporate fraud you could read about in one sitting.

“With all of your homework?” you clarified, and he nodded so fast that he looked like a full-on bobblehead. “Good job, dude!”

“Did you finish your homework so that we can play?” he asked you.

“Yup, I’m all done,” you lied. Your paper wasn’t due for another week, anyway. “So what do you want to play?”

Jack tapped his finger on his chin as he thought about it. You were aware that you didn’t have much in the way of kid’s toys, but you had stuff to color or paint or play board games, and you were confident enough in your imagination to come up with a game if it came down to that. Jack looked around and suddenly his eyes got wide and he pointed to your Switch.

“Do you have Mario Kart?” he asked hopefully. “Can we play that?”

“That sounds like fun, let’s do that,” you told him, making your way to set up the console. “I’ll even let you be player one.”

  Jack was practically bouncing up and down in his seat now. “I’m really good at this game. I can even beat my uncle Dave!”

You laughed as the two of you picked your characters. Jack chose Yoshi, a solid choice, and you went with Toad. “You can beat your Uncle Dave? Wow, that’s impressive. I have to warn you, though, I’m also very good at this game. Do you think you can beat me?” you teased.

“Definitely,” Jack challenged, and the game began.

The two of you played for a little while, and Jack’s mind was blown when you told him about the shortcuts on each track. After about three cups and you telling him where every shortcut you knew was, the 7-year-old was starting to get antsy just sitting, so you decided to switch gears.

You brought out some leftover paints and canvases you had from a paint night with your friends, and you and Jack laid on the floor and did some painting, although you were not prepared for how messy it would get. Somehow, Jack ended up with his fingertips covered in blue paint, and you had a streak of green on your cheek from where you mindlessly brushed hair from out of your face. As you placed the artwork to the side to dry, Jack had already decided on the next game - the floor is lava.

Before you even realized it, three hours had passed and it was time to make dinner. Jack chose pizza, which you luckily already had in your freezer. The game was still going, but you and Jack agreed that the kitchen was the only safe place without lava, considering there were too many dangerous things in that vicinity.

Babysitting Jack was easier than you expected, and much more fun. Even in his more playful moments, Aaron was always a little bit guarded and on edge, so you had a hard time imagining what his child would be like. A weird part of you almost imagined a mini adult in a child-sized suit and a briefcase full of fruit snacks and crackers, as ridiculous as it sounded. But Jack was just like any other 7-year-old - goofy, a little loud, and excited about the world.

You wondered if Aaron was like that as a kid, or if that part of Jack’s personality came from his mom. Maybe Jack was a mini version of his mom. Now that you had gotten the tiniest taste of Aaron’s home life, you found yourself craving to know more, to see Aaron in dad-mode.

Selfishly, you also wanted Aaron to watch you interact with Jack, just to see his reaction. It was a gamble and you realized it. Best case scenario, Aaron would be able to breathe a little bit easier. There wouldn’t be that half second of awkward silence between the two of you every time he mentioned Jack’s name. That stupid guilt you felt so often would dissipate because, hey, you met Jack and now that was out of the way.

On the other hand, everything could come crashing down. Aaron could walk in, see you with Jack, and immediately regret his decision and regret you. It would solidify in both of your minds that you were no more than somebody he could call and fuck when he felt himself on the verge of breaking down. Any self-imposed importance you had placed on yourself in Aaron’s life, no matter how small it was (and it was pretty small), would be a lie. He had a shorter temper now than before, and maybe this would be the exact thing that would set him off.

You didn’t want that, of course, but you really did want to know what would happen, to see where you stood with him. Call it morbid curiosity.

You were pulling the pizza out of the oven when you heard the knock on the door. “Coming!” you called.

“Don’t touch the lava!” Jack reminded you from his spot on the coffee table, just as you were about to leave the kitchen. Your method of movement to and from the kitchen was the rolling chair from your desk and a broom so that you could push yourself where you needed to go, which you had to justify to Jack as being a lava boat.

You “rowed” yourself over the door and looked in the peephole. Aaron was on the other side, nervously rubbing his thumb over the rest of his fingers. It took some work, but you were able to open the door without falling off the chair.

“Hey, I know you,” you greeted Aaron, but your smile fell when you took in his appearance. His whole body was tensed up, like a rubberband about to snap. He didn’t have his tie or blazer on, and the cuffs of his shirt were undone. 

“Dad!” Jack shouted, waving excitedly.

“Hi, buddy.” Aaron smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was scanning the room, studying the scene in front of him. Aaron’s expression slowly shifted to confusion as Jack bounded across your furniture to get closer to his dad. “Jack, what are you doing on the table?” Aaron’s eyes shifted to where you were, noticing for the first time that you were kneeling on a rolling chair, holding onto the broom like a trident. “And why do you two have paint on you?”

“The floor is lava,” you explained nonchalantly.

“And you’re going to get burned!” Jack pointed out.

You chuckled and swiveled your chair so that you could get a better look at Jack. “How about we give your dad a minute to find a spot, okay dude?” You turned back to Aaron, lowering your voice. “The kitchen is a safe zone, if you don’t want to have to crawl around on furniture.”

Aaron frowned, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain. “No, I should take Jack home anyways,” he finally said. “You’ve helped enough today and I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you insisted. “Besides, we just made a pizza that I’m not going to be able to eat by myself. Come in, have dinner. You look like you need it.”

He really did. You were certain that he hadn’t eaten anything the entire time he was at the jail. He looked exhausted, too, and it was taking every bit of his energy to keep his usual stoic and stony composure.

Aaron wanted to argue, but instead, let out a resigned sigh. “Thank you. You, uh, said that the kitchen was a safe zone?”

“Mhm, and you might want to hurry because Jack is in it to win. Already tried to sabotage my chair boat.”

While Aaron’s face remained emotionless, his gaze softened as he stepped into your apartment. “Jack, did you have fun with Y/N?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

Jack hopped from the coffee table to the couch and onto a trail of pillows he had made. “Yeah! She taught me how to cheat in Mario Kart!” 

You rolled your way back to the kitchen, chuckling sheepishly. “Shortcuts aren’t cheating, it’s playing smart,” you defended. 

Jack just giggled and continued to animatedly tell Aaron about his day at school as you each started to dig into dinner. Well, Jack and you dug into the pizza, while Aaron took all off two bites and pushed his plate to the side. You had originally thought that it was the interview that caused Aaron’s tenseness, but you realized with a start that Aaron was completely focused on you. He was watching you curiously, like you had subtly changed your appearance and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different.

He was just intrigued by your interaction with Jack as you had been with Jack and Jessica’s interactions. You had thought that he was going to make a snap judgment and decide if he was ever going to want to see you again the second he saw you with Jack, but he was taking his time. He was profiling you.

“Hey Jack,” you interjected once he finished eating. “Your dad and I are going to do dishes, but I need you to do me a big favor. I can’t win Bowser’s Castle no matter how hard I try. Do you think you could do that race for me while we clean up?”

Aaron looked at you in confusion, but you kept your eyes on Jack, who was all too happy to have an excuse to get out of cleaning and go back to playing video games. He practically bounced back into the living room, leaving you and Aaron alone.

“Do you want something to drink?” you offered. Aaron was watching your every movement, studying you carefully. “I have tea, coffee… Irish coffee, if it’s that kind of night.” You added the last part as an afterthought, only partially joking.

The corner of Aaron’s mouth twitched upwards so subtly that if you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t have even noticed. “No thank you,” he answered formally.

You mindlessly traced circles on the tabletop with your finger, keeping your eyes downcast. You knew you couldn’t just outright ask what was on his mind, he’d never answer truthfully. “Do I want to know what that creep did to be put on death row?” you asked, keeping your voice as indifferent as possible..

Aaron shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell you even if you did,” he admitted and the two of you fell into silence again. It was the answer you had pretty much come to expect from him.

Despite the fact that, as a lawyer, you’d have to hear about all these awful things and see the evidence, Aaron tried to shield you from his work. He didn’t talk about cases, didn’t glamorize the work he did the way some younger agents would. In all the time you’ve known him, you could count the number of criminals you knew he took down on your fingers, and some of those were only because you learned about them in class. 

That was fine. You didn’t want Aaron to have to bring that to your bed, not when you were supposed to be his distraction from all that mess. And what a fun distraction you were.

Aaron looked at his watch, effectively ending the conversation. “We should go, it’s getting late. Thank you for watching Jack. And for dinner.”

You paused, debating your next move. “It’s no problem,” you said sincerely. “And if you need anything else from me… I’ll be awake for a while.” You let your offer hang in the air for a few moments, watching as Aaron seemed to be weighing options in his head, you just didn’t know what those options were.

You were just about to rescind your offer when he opened his mouth to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want any compensation?”

You waved off his offer. “I’m positive.”

Aaron shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Then let me buy you dinner sometime this week. It’s the least I can do.”

You paused, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. Aaron had never made an offer like this before, never took steps towards anything that could push this into something even remotely considered a relationship. It was easy to explain the constant sex. You could even justify the lingering morning-afters or the nights spent hunched over your textbooks while Aaron wordlessly refilled your coffee cup without you having to even ask by claiming that it all happened organically. It’s not like the two of you planned to stay up and debate the lost history of the term “beyond a reasonable doubt”. It just sort of happened, and who were you to turn down free coffee?

Anything more would complicate the carefully curated system, and neither of you had the time or energy for complicated.

Despite every logical bone in your body screaming at you to walk away and leave while you were ahead, you couldn’t help the soft “Yeah, I’d really like that,” that slipped past your lips.

You could have sworn Aaron smiled at your answer, but he didn’t say anything more.

The two of you walked back to your living room in silence. “Alright buddy,” Aaron called, ruffling Jack’s hair. “It’s time for us to head home. Say thank you to Y/N.”

Jack pouted as he exited the game. “Can Y/N watch me again soon? Please? It was fun!”

“We’ll have to see, she might be busy,” Aaron mused, looking at you so that he could gauge your reaction. It was enough of an answer to not crush Jack’s hopes, but vague enough that it gave you room to deny the offer. He was letting you choose how much you wanted to be around Jack, if you wanted to be around him at all.

You grinned down at Jack and held out your hand for a high five, which he took as an invitation to try and slap your hand as hard as he could. How could you say no to him? “Of course I can watch you again. I’ll even have Legos next time.”

For the first time that night, Aaron gave you a real smile, one that you could actually see. It was small, but it was genuine. “Thank you again. Goodnight, Y/N,” he told you and Jack echoed the sentiment, waving at you as they walked out the door. 

[julemmaes]

We Have To

Nesta Archeron x Cassian modern au

A/N: I’M SO SORRY THIS IS SOME WEEKS LATE, BUT I MADE IT, I DID IT!!!!

@darkshadowqueensrule ELLA THIS IS FOR YOU. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FLUFFY;) THING AS MUCH I DID PLANNING AND WRITING IT AND I HOPE IT BRINGS YOU JOY

Word count: 3,098

Cassian had so much to do that day that he cursed himself for not thinking of everything sooner. He had already bought the flowers for Nesta, who lay in the seat next to him, and the smell of the food and spices their neighbor had given him was already intoxicating him. He just hoped it wouldn't get too cold by the time they got to Azriel and Emerie's house. They were all going to be there, as they did every year, to celebrate Nesta's birthday in company, but before joining their family, Cassian had to pick up each of his four children from school.

He arrived almost immediately at the school of the youngest, Alesia and Becan, and smiled when he saw them on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the line of cars to flow by until theirs would appear in the parking lot.

They were only a year apart, but Alesia was the oldest, and in the last year she had grown so much that Cassian's heart ached every time he looked at her. She was starting to look like Nesta and he couldn't have been happier, even though she was losing the light blonde hair that was being replaced by the classic light brown color of the Archeron sisters.

Becan, on the other hand, looked exactly like Leka, his oldest son, and both were the exact copy of Cassian, it was as if they weren't even Nesta's children. Both of his little men looked older than they were, and they never failed to have that silly, cocky grin on their faces - as Nesta used to point out.

When the two children saw the familiar car they lit up, pointing him out to the teacher and starting to run towards him. Alesia was the first to catch up and got in right away, pulling up Becan's backpack, which at times seemed to tower over him as big as it was.

"Hello gorgeous." said Cassian turning to his children.

"Hi daddy!" they both yelled.

He reached out a hand to his daughter's head, fixing her hair behind her ear and then turned to his son, "What did you guys do today?"

Becan was arranging his backpack next to him with a frown on his face, "I had English and we got to plurals and the teacher said we're great, but I didn't understand why I can't say foots." concluded the youngest looking directly at him. Alesia beside him giggled, turning to face her father as well.

Cassian's eyes went wide with amusement, restraining himself from laughing, "What do you mean?"

"Why do I have to say feet?" the boy asked, arching an eyebrow, "Why can't I just say foots, or mouses?" then he shrugged, curling the corner of his mouth, "We'll never know."

"It's the irregulars," Alesia beat him to the punch, still looking at him for approval. Cassian smiled at her and nodded slightly, "There are no real rules, you just have to read a lot of texts."

A car in line behind them honked and Cassian huffed, turning back to the steering wheel, "Seatbelts please." he waited to hear the click of both children before driving off towards Xhuli's school, his first daughter. He turned on the radio, keeping the volume low enough to hear what his children were telling him.

He was more relaxed than in years past, oddly enough. He was always so fidgety during this time of year, and when Nesta's birthday came around, he couldn't help but remember all the times they had been young and celebrated for days on the beaches of Adriata, waiting for the sun to go down and rise the next day from over the mountains. He couldn't help but think of all the little gifts he gave her - the shells, the stones, the flowers - that Nesta had kept throughout the years to come and that still sat on the middle shelf of the bookcase in their room.

He thought about how the light from the coastal region was a gift from the gods, the way it had lit up Nesta's clear eyes every holy time, making them shine just for him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, focusing on his daughter's words.

"Then during the break Ella gave me a piece of her snack and I gave her a piece of mine," Alesia yawned, then nodded thoughtfully, "She's nice."

"And did you manage to do the geography test or was it too hard?" he asked her, turning into the street of Xhuli's school.

"It went well, I think," she murmured, "although I couldn't remember the name of the mountains in Illyria, what are they called?" she asked curiously, leaning forward. Cassian restrained himself from telling her to sit down in the seat, as an unnatural fear welled up inside him.

He cast a glance at Becan as well, to make sure he was buckled in properly as well.

"Myrmidons." sighed Cassian, returning his eyes to the road as his heart sped up in his chest.

"Yeah!" shouted Alesia, grunting, "The Myrmidons." then slammed a hand on her forehead dramatically.

"Are we going to Uncle Az's?" asked Becan suddenly.

Cassian parked the car under the big oak tree where he always waited for Xhuli to get out of school and unbuckled his belt, turning to face his kids, "We have to pick up Leka first, then we'll stop by mom's and then we'll all go to Az's together, yeah." he replied, reminding them that they wouldn't be eating at home today and they wouldn't have to wait for the oldest to come back with the bus. Becan nodded, yawning as well, and Alesia laughed, reaching over to stick a finger in his mouth until he had it wide open.

Cassian laughed when Becan closed his teeth on her finger and Alesia wailed, retracting her hand instantly afterwards.

The little boy unbuckled his belt, "Can I show you what I made for mommy?" he asked his dad. Cassian nodded excitedly, smiling at him, but feeling his heart tighten in his chest, "It's not beautiful, but the teacher said it's the thought that counts."

At that he snorted, because it sounded like something Teacher Aelin might have said, but the laugh was short-lived, because Becan showed him a drawing of them. It wasn't a masterpiece, as the child had already anticipated, but you could see how much effort he had put into coloring inside the lines, going over the edges with markers. He and Nesta were in the middle of the paper and holding hands, lying on what Cassian imagined were beach towels on the sand, while their four children were all in the water and playing catch.

"It's Adriata." he whispered, swallowing noisily and handing the drawing back to his son, "It's really beautiful, you've improved so much since last year."

Becan beamed all over, thanking him and settling back in his seat, bringing the drawing to his lap. Cassian turned around when he heard his new teenager's voice ring out not far from them and smiled, seeing that she was running to the car, waving her hand at him. He raised his own, waving back.

"And I made this card," the little girl said, pushing something shiny between the two front seats. Cassian wanted to laugh at the amount of pink and gold glitters on that thing. "But I don't know if mom will like this cause it's very sparkly."

"I'm sure she'll love it." he said, smiling reassuringly at his daughter through the rearview mirror. "What did you write inside?"

"That I love her and that I-" she couldn't finish the sentence, because Xhuli had flung the door wide open.

"Hello everyone!" she squealed, picking up the flowers and putting them on her legs, getting into the car. She turned to Cassian, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek and turning to her siblings right after, "Are you ready to play ride or die all afternoon?" she cheered them on with a bright smile on her face.

Alesia and Becan shrieked in delight, jerking their hands in the air and Cassian shook his head, his eyes wide, "Why do you always have to instigate them to play that awful game?" he asked her as he settled into his seat, "Someone always ends up getting hurt and crying."

Xhuli chuckled, shrugging, "It's always Tedian or Daorsa anyway."

Cassian looked at her open-mouthed, "Xhuli."

"What?" she asked equally dumbfounded, then huffed, looking ahead, "Even Uncle Rhys always says they're whiners and should learn to take jokes," she told him with a pointed look, "And he's their father."

He shook his head, running his hand over his face, "If your mother were here-"

"She'd tell me to make them cry harder probably," Xhuli chuckled again, "Come on you go, I can't wait to eat Aunt Emerie's meat pie."

"Belts." laughed Cassian, not leaving until he was sure everyone was buckled in.

The drive to Leka's high school was longer, considering he was studying downtown, but Cassian relaxed a bit as Xhuli distracted the little ones, focusing on the road.

"I got a nine in literature today," the oldest daughter said, catching his attention. Shifting his gaze to her for a moment he noticed that she was torturing her hands, playing with one of the rings Nesta left her.

He gave her a warm smile, "It's a really good grade, I'm proud of you."

"And I finished the correction before the others, so I did something for mom," she said in a more uncertain voice, starting to rummage through her backpack. He couldn't see her face, but he knew her cheeks were red. "It's crap."

Cassian really didn't understand where all the low self-esteem that seemed to be in each of his children that day was coming from. He guessed that the idea of doing something that Nesta might not like scared them as much as it had scared him in the early days of dating.

They stopped at a red light and Xhuli held out the small blue piece of paper toward him.

He opened his eyes wide again, admiring the way she'd folded each corner, where she'd decorated the still visible parts of the paper, until it was a beautiful heron in flight.

"Baby," he breathed, "I know I'm supposed to scold you for doing this at school, but-" he chuckled, shaking his head, "it's beautiful." and a relieved, very short laugh escaped her lips.

"Thanks, dad."

They arrived shortly thereafter at Leka's school, who was standing on the sidewalk and looking annoyed. When the car stopped just ahead of where he was, Becan unbuckled his seatbelt, shifting into the middle seat, but his older brother opened the passenger door, nodding to Xhuli, "Get in the back."

"Excuse me?" his sister asked, genuinely shocked.

Leka clenched his jaw and looked at her with dark eyes. Cassian knew immediately that something was wrong.

The son huffed, "I said go to the back."

"No," Xhuli shook her head, "I got here first and you're always in the front."

"Stop that right now," his father scolded them both. Then he crossed Leka's gaze and his son looked over the car, across the road.

Xhuli had a deep frown on her face, "He started it."

Cassian sighed, looking at the girl, "Could you please get in the back?" when she gaped, he clasped his hands around the steering wheel, "I know, you're already sitting in the front and it would be so much easier and faster if he just got in the back, but it's a hard day for him and-"

"It's not hard just for him," she retorted, in a tone of voice Cassian had never heard her use. She sounded like Nesta at that moment, authoritative rather than condescending.

"Please," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

Xhuli must have seen something in his gaze, because she huffed and gathered up her stuff, before walking out and giving her brother a shove. Leka didn't even seem to mind and dropped into the seat next to Cassian, quickly buckling himself in and resting his hood-covered head against the window.

"Leka-"

"Just drive, please," he murmured, not even looking at his father.

The relatively cheerful air that had been there up until that point had disappeared completely, and even when Becan had tried to get his older brother's attention, he hadn't paid any attention to him at all. Xhuli had tried to point out to him that he was being an asshole, but Cassian had snapped at her, and told her to apologize straight away.

They'd started talking about who would give their mom the gift first, and Cassian had more felt than seen, Leka tense up at his siblings' words. He had taken deep, shuddering breaths and it had taken all his strength for the man not to stop and hug his son in the middle of the road.

The second they pulled up in front of the particularly green and overgrown lawn, the three little ones hopped out of the car without even waiting for their father's permission and started running towards what they knew was their mother's gravestone.

Leka looked away from his siblings, shifting his gaze to his father and then his eyes filled with tears, but nothing fell down his cheeks, "I want to leave."

Cassian felt his heart in his throat, his hands trembling around the steering wheel.

"I want to go home, I don't want to go to the uncles," Leka continued, shaking his head, "I want to get out of here."

"Leka..." he tried again, reaching out a hand toward him. His son smacked his arm, pushing him away. Cassian closed his eyes.

"No!" he shrieked into the silence of the cockpit. His eyes were wide and he was struggling to breathe, "Why do we have to do this every year? It's sick." he spat at him.

Cassian shifted his gaze to his children, the ones who were now kneeling in front of his wife's grave. In front of the grave he took such good care of as he had taken care of Nesta while she was alive. Alesia was opening the card she had drawn at school and he saw a pool of glitter fall on the grass in front of them.

He turned to Leka, feeling his eyes water, "We need-"

"We don't need anything." he interjected again, more angrily, "You, you need this thing, because you can't seem to get away from mom."

Cassian jerked back at those words, opening his eyes even wider.

Leka seemed satisfied with that reaction because he continued, "She died five fucking years ago," he spoke through his teeth, "and you still bring me here and make me stand in front of her grave for an hour like it's going to do me any good, like talking to a fucking stone is going to help me." his son's voice cracked at the end of the sentence and tears slid down his skin. Cassian let go of a breath as his heart tightened in his chest more with every word Leka said.

"Stop it, you don't mean that," Cassian murmured, turning toward the gravestone-covered lawns, catching sight of some other relative who had come to visit a lost loved one.

"Yes, dad, I do," Leka shouted, "and being here so long, it hurts me! Just being here makes me so sick I can't breathe, and it makes me miss mom so much I can't think." a sob broke Cassian's breath, and he forced himself to look at his son. Leka was in no better condition than he was. "We come here and I can't think," he sobbed.

His face flushed, his breathing short, tears now falling without concern. He was opening and closing the fingers of his hands, looking for something to distract him from the pain so deep and inescapable that was grief.

Nesta Archeron, mother of four beautiful children and wife of the luckiest man in the world, had died in a car accident just a week after turning thirty-five. It didn't take long to realize that the news had shattered not only the family, but the entire neighborhood.

Cassian didn't remember much about the first few months after Nesta's death, always in a delirious state between anger and despair, but when it had taken shape in his head, when his body and mind had finally been ready to accept that this was now his new reality, another kind of grief, completely different from what he had experienced up until that moment, had taken over.

His children had needed him. And he hadn't been there for them.

Nesta would have been ashamed of him.

That had made him wake up somehow.

The idea of Nesta watching him, from wherever she was at that moment, and judging him for the way he had abandoned everything - for the way he had abandoned their children - had revived him and made him find his place in the lives of his daughters and sons.

And now, as he looked into his son's pitch-brown eyes, he couldn't speak, just as he had years before.

"Dad." Leka begged him in a broken voice, "Please let's go home."

Cassian shook his head, closing his eyes, "I can't."

Leka burst into tears, bringing both hands to his face to cover the grimace of pain and suffering as his body was shaken by loud sobs. Cassian placed a hand on his back, crying silently in turn, and Leka didn't take half a second before he pushed himself to him and let his father cradle him in his arms.

"I miss her so much." whispered Cassian as he wrapped his son up, "Every day."

Leka made a sound much like an animal that had just been shot before he resumed crying more loudly, "I miss mom."

His heart clenched so tightly in his chest that Cassian thought he was going to die, "I know."

"I miss mom." repeated Leka, pressing his face against his chest.

"We'll make it through, for her." murmured Cassian, clasping his hands around his jacket and bringing him as close to him as he could. He could feel Leka shaking, and he just wanted Nesta to be there with them, to help him fix the mess that was their lives. Watching Becan as he picked up the paper bird and flew it high above them, he thought he could never make it without the love of his life, but he still said, "We have to."

A/N: There’s one thing I always tell my readers, be aware of the winky faces;) I leave them anywhere I plan on destroying people’s hearts, so yeah, you’ve kinda been warned about the fact that this was NOT going to be fluff, I hope you liked it anyway, goodnight guys:)

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[capsironunderoos]

December

DINCEMBER - December 2 - December (Ariana Grande Version)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Female!Reader

Summary: A little thievery, a little marketplace, a little mysterious allusions to past lives, and a little green baby.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None that I can think of! (Possibly my writing because this one is... something else)

Author’s Note: Ah okay so I know this is a day or so late, but I still wanted to keep up with @dindjarindiaries​ Dincember! This prompt was December by Ariana Grande and I can’t lie I’d never heard the song before! It’s really good though (and I definitely added it to my “baking Christmas cookies with matthew gray gubler” playlist). I was inspired by the lines “I’m just tryna keep my baby warm through the wintertime” and “whatever is on your list I’ll do it,” but probably not in the way you’d expect... Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I have a love hate relationship with how it turned out... Also, I do make some allusions to the readers past, but you can fill those in however you like! Was she an Imperial spy? A Rebel spy? Maybe she flew alongside Luke Skywalker, or learned how to beat Lando at sabacc! Who knows! That’s completely up to you. Anywho, this was a really long author’s note sheesh... Enjoy! 

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - November 30 - Snow

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

It’s almost cold today, you find yourself thinking as a slight breeze picks up the fabric sitting on your sale table. 

You’re carefully folding your newest line of fabrics onto the table before you, making sure they’re arranged in a way that will draw people in, and will get you enough credits to at least try out the new caf they’re selling at the cantina. 

You smile at the thought and smooth out a wrinkle in the bright red fabric before turning to look around you. 

The marketplace seems almost empty. Normally you have to elbow a few Jawa to get through the crowd and set up your table, but today was unnaturally easy. 

It’s almost unsettling how quiet the town is, normally on market days patrons all the way from Mos Eisley find their way to the multi-colored booths. Your booth tends to be pretty popular, as it’s rare to find a seamstress on a dust ball like Tatooine. 

It doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes either, and that you know how to work an unsuspecting husband into buying something new for his wife, or a new mother into buying a cloth sling to carry her crying baby in. 

It also doesn’t hurt that there don’t seem to be enough rumors about you. 

Some point and whisper as they walk by, saying you once sewed the robes worn by Jedi and Sith alike. Others stare in the cantina as they place bets on which royal you sewed for and if you ever got to live on a core planet. 

Of course none of them are true, and most of them were started by you to thrum up good business. 

What can you say? The caf at the cantina is really good. 

It’s been a few minutes now, well past the opening hour of the market, and the number of booths is still few and far between. 

You hum in disappointment, accepting that you won’t be making many, if any sales today. You begin to sit down on the stool you bring along for days like this when you see a scrap of your best-selling silver cloth suspiciously fly off of the table. 

It takes a second, but you note that there’s no wind blowing, so there’s no way it was carried off by a sudden strong breeze. 

You grab the small stun gun you keep tucked away in your belt, slowly moving around the table, already knowing you’re about to have another run in with a Jawa. 

Your footsteps are measured, and if anyone were to pay enough attention, they’d notice that a seamstress wouldn’t know how to move the way you are. 

As you creep around the table, you notice that another scrap of fabric, this time green, is swept away as if by an invisible being. 

Your steps pick up then, and you round the table just in time to see a small creature waddling away from your booth, fabric dragging the ground as it struggles to carry a stolen bounty almost as large as the creature is. 

“Hey! Not so fast, little one!” You call out, and the creature turns to look at you. 

He squeaks in alarm and begins… running? 

You think it’s possibly running, or trying to at least. 

You note how large its clothes are, and how they seem to be tripping it up as it tries to escape. 

If it hadn’t been stealing from you, you’d almost have felt bad for it. 

Three more lunging steps later and you’ve managed to put your stun gun away and scoop the small being into your arms. It wails in disapproval and struggles against you in a feeble attempt to get away, but your grip is tight enough to keep it tucked into the crook of your arm. 

“Now where do you think you’re going with that?” You ask as you grab the fabric from its hands. 

As cute as you suddenly realize it is, it’s hard to miss how stubbornly it holds onto the fabric. 

You begin to walk back to your booth, scanning the area for anyone who might be searching for it. 

It’s calmed down now, and you turn to see it’s big brown eyes staring up at you. 

“Oh don’t give me that look. Doesn’t matter how cute you are, you still gotta pay like everyone else.” 

The little one coos in response, as if understanding and responding to your statement. 

“Uh huh,” you nonchalantly agree to its babbling as you do your best to fold the fabrics back into their places with one hand, your left arm currently supporting the child in it. 

“Is there someone you’re supposed to be with right now? A leash you broke off or, um, maybe a cage you got out of? Or are you somebody’s kid?” You question, and it looks up at you, blinking quietly and deciding that now it’ll be quiet.

“Well, I doubt you’re anybody’s kid, ‘cause I’ve never seen anything like you around here. But I also doubt that you’re anybody’s pet, ‘cause I know good and well no one would be able to keep you on a leash, especially not in a cage. You’re too cute for all that. Besides, I think you might be able to escape too easily anyways.” 

The child laughs at that, and you find yourself smiling in response. 

“Hey I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to pull that fabric off of my table. You’re not exactly the same height.” You wonder aloud, and the child moves to sit up as best it can in your arms. 

You apologize to it before sitting it on the table and pulling your stool up. 

It doesn’t really matter if it tries to run off, you already know you could catch the poor thing in two steps. 

The creature watches you intently, tilting its head as if inspecting you, or searching you for something. 

You furrow your eyebrows at its actions, leaning up to get a little bit closer to it. 

You notice movement out of the corner of your eye and sit back again, watching as the little one begins to raise one of his hands. 

You can feel your heart rate pick up as your mind races to put together what the child is trying to show you, but before the connection can be made a set of quick and heavy footsteps are striding up to your table. 

“There you are,” you hear through the crackle of a modulator, which cues you to turn and see a Mandalorian taking long strides to your booth. 

Dread instantly fills your chest, and you quickly stand up, glancing down at your stun gun sticking out of your boot and back to the Mandalorian. 

Was he talking to you or the kid? Regardless of whichever one he was talking to, you have a feeling you’re both about to be in some trouble. 

Last you knew you didn’t have an active bounty on your head, but that had been too many rotations ago to remember. Surely the small child beside you wouldn’t have an active bounty, it hardly knew how to speak, much less commit a serious crime against the New Republic, or the remaining Imps for that matter. 

Your wandering thoughts are quickly answered as the Mandalorian scoops the little green being in its arms. 

“I told you to stay put kid,” his tone is meant to come off as scolding, but you can hear the worry in his voice. 

The child is grinning from ear to ear, obviously happy to see the man before you. 

“You know,” you start, and the Mandalorian turns to you as if noticing you for the first time. 

“I can sew you something to wear that he can ride in. Can match the color to that fancy beskar and everything.” 

At the mention of his armor, you notice the Mandalorian stand a bit straighter. 

“No, thank you. I hope that he wasn’t too much of a bother.” 

The child laughs at the mention of himself, and you find yourself fighting a grin. 

“Well, other than trying to make off with two of my best-selling fabrics,” you shrug and the Mandalorian returns his gaze to the kid, who has gone suspiciously silent. 

“Did you give them back?” He chastises the child again, but before it has a chance to answer you step in. 

“I got them back. He tried to make a run for it, but he’s not very fast.” 

A beat of silence passes between the three of you before you continue. 

“I could fix that too. Those clothes are obviously too big for him.” 

The Mandalorian sighs, but it comes out as a crackle. How had you managed to finally meet the first customer you’d ever had that was able to resist your persuading? 

“I said no thank you earlier, and the same applies now.” 

You raise your hands in defense, feigning innocence. 

“Alright Mando, alright,” you taunt him and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

“I’m just trying to keep that baby warm through the winter time.” 

At the reference to him, the kid squirms in the Mandalorians arms, turning to look at you with big eyes, full of want. 

“Whatever’s on your list, I’ll do it. I’m the best around. Actually, I’m the only around.” 

You decide to try one last time, and even if he doesn’t respond or buy, at least you’ll know what to work on when the next Mandalorian shows up at your table. 

He’s quiet for too long, and you turn your attention back to the kid. 

“I see why you wanted that silver, little one. It’d match ole tin can man perfectly.” 

You taunt him again, and the Mandalorian continues to stand still. 

After another beat of silence, you hear the scramble of feet behind him, and you move to glance over his shoulder. 

“Peli!” You exclaim, and she smiles as she sees you, but you notice her smile growing even bigger when she sees the kid peeking through the Mandalorians arms to see her. 

“Hey kiddo! And… kiddo,” she jokes as she moves to stand beside Mando. 

The kid makes grabby-arms towards her and she laughs, accepting him into her arms. 

“This that Mando you were telling me about over caf the other week?” You question and she nods. 

“As he lives and breathes. At least, I think he’s living and breathing.” 

You nod in agreement. 

“Come on Mando,” she prompts, gesturing for him to follow her. 

“Your ship has some… problems, to say the least, and I need an opinion that isn't a pit droids.” 

You wave to the child as Peli retreats back in the direction she came before turning to face the Mandalorian once more. 

“Offer still stands,” you start, and his helmet moves ever so slightly to look at you. 

“Response is still the same,” he combats, and you laugh.

---

Three days later and Din is ready to get off of this sand pit. 

He normally doesn’t mind coming and visiting Peli, having the Crest regularly serviced while taking a few days to visit old friends or to simply sit with the feisty mechanic and his kid. 

But he’s got stuff to do now, and Life Day is just around the corner. 

He didn’t remember too much of his childhood, but he remembered celebrating Life Day with his parents when they were still alive. Therefore, he wants to give the kid a good Life Day this year, as Din was almost certain he’d never experienced one before. 

This meant gathering gifts specifically for the little creature, and that meant trekking across the galaxy before settling onto Nevarro to celebrate Life Day with Cara and Greef. 

He watches from afar as the pit droids finish up their final touches, making sure the Crest has a full tank before he’s cleared to go. 

“Hey Mando!” 

He hears from behind him, and he turns to see Peli marching towards him. 

“Looks like you made an impression a few days ago. I’ve never known her to do anything for free, much less as a gift.” 

Din immediately knows that Peli is talking about you, and he wishes that he didn’t. 

You’ve been all he can think about, and he hates himself for literally just standing there as you tried to talk to him. 

Peli pulls him from his thoughts as she extends her hands to him, offering a gift wrapped in dark brown paper. 

Din takes it from her and mutters a thank you. 

“You’re welcome,” Peli replies dramatically before stomping off to find the kid. 

Din can read the basic scrawled on top that reads “For the tin can man and his green kid,” and he feels himself smiling at the scrawl of your handwriting. 

He quickly opens the box, not surprised to see a small dark brown robe, almost the color of the fabric he wears, sitting atop a silver pile of fabric. 

He pulls the robe out first, noticing how well it has been sewn together, already knowing that the child’s going to never want to wear anything else now. 

He then pulls out the silver fabric, noticing that it looks to be something for him. 

“Oh yeah new moms put their kids in that at the market! You just strap ‘em right to your chest and they never cry again,” Peli calls from her spot beside the ship where she’s been holding the kid and watching Din. 

Din finds his smile growing even more, and he’s almost surprised to see another note in the box, written on what looks like handmade paper. 

The basic is even more scrawled in this note, as if you’d decided to put it in at the last minute. 

Din pulls it from the box and can't help but to smile from ear to ear as he reads it. 

Just trying to keep that baby warm through the wintertime. Anything else on your list I can do, but you’re gonna have to actually pay this time. Happy Life Day.  

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hot Chocolate