#all guesses are correct this kid will cry if you smile at her someone please give her therapy and teach her to love herself

[scarlett-ink]

No context meme doodle for an upcoming fic

[natashaslesbian]

We Saved Each Other (Part Five)

Summary: you’re continuing to grow everyday with Natasha, facing all kinds of challenges both new and old

Word Count: 4.1k

Parings: (Natasha Romanoff x Kid!Reader) (Maria, Clint and Fury appear)

Warnings: Red room references, abusive father references, nightmares, shouting, crying, but the fluffiest ending

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Natasha was amazed at your progress. It had been a long 2 months but you were continuing to grow every day. You were starting to get more comfortable around the avengers but there was still some bonding to be done and many more mountains to be climbed.

-5 weeks at S.H.I.E.L.D-

“So” Fury said as he settled into his chair “how are the two of you settling in?” The director asked. Natasha glanced over to you through the glass, you were always scared when you couldn’t see her and truth being told Nat didn’t ever want to let you out of her sight either “we’re okay” she said “ok, and the truth?” Nick smirked “it’s been hard I guess” the widow wasn’t yet used to allowing her emotions to show “she doesn’t know any different” Natasha said, eyes still glued to you “we don’t know any different” she corrected.

“Woah y/n look at this one!” Maria said as reached right to the bottom of the box of brand new toys Clint had sent for you “what is it?” You asked as you waddled over “it’s a doll house” Maria said “do you wanna open it up and put it together?” Your eyes lit up, you had never had your own doll house “yes please” you said. It was a challenge for Maria, this whole situation was. The agent had her walls built so high and watching over you, playing with you, it brought a lot of memories back for her. “What are you going to name this one?” Maria said as she passed you the brand new doll “I can name it anything?” You asked “of course” Maria said.

“We can’t keep her here without a guardian much longer Romanoff” Nick coughed “what does that mean? Where are you gonna send her?” The panic ran up through Natasha’s spine “we don’t want to send her anywhere, but she needs a guardian” Nats blood settled again “are you asking me to do that?” She asked “I’m not asking you to do anything, in all honesty you can’t, you haven’t been a US citizen long enough” Nick said “you need to have been here at least 12 months” Natasha sighed “that’s another 2 months away” the red head said. She would be damed if these people just shipped you off somewhere new “why can’t she just stay here until I can be her guardian” Natasha asked “I didn’t know that’s what you wanted” Nick said, falling back into his chair. Shit. She was letting her guard down again, letting some stranger see her emotions “well I don’t want her just thrown into the care of someone else” the widow said “we can take care of her, I can take care of her. Please Fury, let me help her”

“Hey y/n” Nat said as she opened the door “you wanna get some lunch?” She asked, you shrunk into yourself again, still wanting to play but not wanting to get into trouble “okay” you nodded your head. Natasha picked up on your discomfort “would you like to stay and play a bit longer?” The red head asked “yes please” you timidly said. Maria said her goodbyes and Natasha came to join you on the carpet “what’s your dolly’s name?” She asked, your cheeks grew a certain red and you giggled “Natasha” you smiled “you named her Natasha? After me?” The agent asked “yeah” you shyly said “why did you do that?” Nat asked again “because you’re my best friend” you smiled up with your y/e/c “you’re my best friend too y/n” Natasha said, feeling her heart open more than it ever had.

-6 weeks at S.H.I.E.L.D-

You were so exhausted. Each time you slept your mind was plagued with demons, running around and throwing very bad memory into your consciousness. Right now was no different .“Y/n?” Natasha cooed “you’re okay y/n, wake up for me sweetheart” she pleaded. You had finally settled at 6am after a night of tears and no sleep. It was 8:30 now, things were going so well, Natasha was thrilled that you were getting some rest at last. “Y/n sweetheart, it’s Natty can you hear me?” She asked. You could hear her calling you but she was too far away, your father dragging you even further and pushing you into the arms of a strange man. Natasha cradled you in her lap, wiling you to wake through her thoughts “I’ve got you darling. It’s okay you’re safe” she continued to say.

Finally the darkness had gone and the overhead light stung your eyes slightly as you rolled away from it, further into Nat’s grip “Natty” you cried out “I’m here baby, I’m here” she said as she gently stoked your hair behind your ear “d- Dreykov” you whispered “its alright y/n. I won’t let him hurt you, he can’t get to you okay” Natasha said to you, and herself. “Do you want sprinkles?” Natasha asked, you nodded your head at the mention of your beloved stuffed bunny. The widow had bought if for you after your first nightmare, she had always wanted a stuffy and she was honoured to gift your first ever one to you.

You wrapped Sprinkles arms around your own while Natasha tucked you back into the soft sheets. “Get some sleep okay sweetheart” she said, bringing her hand back to your forehead, trailing her fingertips across your hair line “okay” you yawned “Natty?” You peered up at her “yeah?” She said as she sat on the plush mattress next to you. “can you sing me a song?” You asked “a song?” Nat asked in return, slightly terrified at the prospect of singing “yeah” you said sleepily “daddy used to sing me lullabies. Be-before he turned scary” you frowned and Natasha lent down to leave a kiss on your forehead, the action taking both of you by surprise “what did daddy used to sing for you?” The widow asked. You hummed in thought for a moment “I don’t remember” you said “how about I sing you one that my mommy used to sing to me?” Natasha smiled at the brief memory “where is your mommy?” You questioned as you rubbed your sore eyes “I don’t know, I haven’t seen her in 15 years” Nat believed Melina had died many years ago but she didn’t want to put that in your head “that’s a long time” you said “it is” Nat nodded “are you going to leave me for 15 years?” You quietly asked, afraid of the answer. Natasha couldn’t promise you anything, her future was just as unclear as yours but she was sure of one thing “I’m not going anywhere y/n” she said “now you close those eyes” her Russian accent filled your ears with a beautiful tune as she began to sing. Her comforting warmth lulling you into a deep slumber.

-7 weeks at S.H.I.E.L.D-

“No.” Natasha firmly said “I’m not going on this mission!” she slammed her hands on the wall “Romanoff” Fury warned, Maria cutting him off “the whole point of you coming here was that you would work under S.H.I.E.L.D” she said “well things have changed!” Natasha yelled “I need you for this mission Natasha” Fury boomed “I have to be here for y/n” Natasha said, scratching at her palms to calm her anger “you can’t stay glued to her side forever” Maria sighed. “You don’t get it!” The widow screamed, loosing all control “then explain it to us!” Fury said, mirroring Nat’s anger. “This is the safest place y/n has ever been but she doesn’t feel it yet.” Natasha began “she won’t feel safe for a long time and I may not be the perfect role model but I am the only one she trusts, the only one who will ever understand the hell she has been through!” Natasha’s voice was cracking, the tears threatening to spill “you both went through it” Maria said, catching the halls attention “they need time Nick” she said looking at her superior “a month is long enough” he said “no it’s not” Maria shot back “only Natasha and y/n can tell us when they’re ready” the brunette came to stand by Nats side, a silent promise that she was there for her. “So what do you need?” Nick asked “time” Natasha said.

“Natty?” You quietly called from the bedroom door, the three adults in the corridor turned their attention to you “hey y/n, are you okay?” Nat asked “why are you shouting?” You mumbled “sorry sweetheart we were just having a little disagreement” the red head said as she came to pick you up. She stopped immediately when you backed away from her “its okay no one’s angry” she cooed coming down to your level “I don’t like it” you sniffled “you sound like daddy” Natasha’s heart sank, she wanted to make a different impact on your life. “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to scare you” Nat said trying to defuse the situation. Her efforts fell short when Fury announced his exit with the slam of the corridor doors. You flinched and pushed past the red head into Maria’s legs, breaking Natasha’s heart without knowing it. She couldn’t hold it back this time, big strong Nat, the tears started to fall. She quickly stood and turned on her heels walking past you and Maria, intertwined together. “Natasha” the agent called after the widow, her sobs fading and allowing her to hear yours. “It’s alright y/n, let’s go and get a hot chocolate okay”

Natasha caught the faint red stain in the mirror as she turned on her feet, the blood beginning to seep through her pointe shoes. This was the only way to let it all out. She had cried enough, spent too long feeling sorry for herself. Now she needed to make up for her mistake, and she needed to forget the look on your little face. The balletic music filled her head enough that Natasha didn’t notice when Clint came into the studio, only realising he was there when she caught his frame landing from a leap. She continued to twirl until Clint stopped the music “that looks painful” he said as he pointed to Natasha’s shoes, she simply shrugged. “Maria called” Clint began “told me what happened earlier. Why are you punishing yourself?” He asked. There it was again, the feeling of her tears creeping up on her “because I’m a monster” she whispered “No. you’re not” the spy said as he handed his teammate a fresh water bottle. He tilted his gaze to the bench and Natasha understood the message. “You’re allowed to be hurt too you know” Clint said as he passed nat a first aid kit, understanding that she would probably want to tend to her own wounds herself. “This has been a huge scary change for you, and for y/n. It’s not always going to be easy” Clint settled on the bench close to Natasha “she got scared Nat, but she won’t stay scared. I see it in her face, she trusts you, you just reminded her of a time I’m sure she’d rather forget” Nat looked over to her fellow agent every few seconds, in between placing her sneakers back onto her bruised feet “do you remember your second week here?” Clint asked “we were training in the gym. You dodged my right hook and I took you straight to the floor, and you stayed there for an hour. You were afraid, because I reminded you of a time you would rather forget” Natasha thought about the memory in detail, imagining that’s how you must have felt today “but here you are now, sat here with me. And I know you’ll never admit it, but I see it on your face too; I see that you trust me” the two shared a glance, accompanied with a small smile. Feeling content that Natasha was safe to be on her own, Clint left her to ponder. Ponder about you.

When Natasha found you, you were watching finding nemo. You and nat had watched it together for the first time last week. Maria was close by and Natasha wished it was her next to you instead of sprinkles. “Hey y/n” she quietly said, not wanting to startle you “mind if I join you?” She asked from a safe distance, thrilled when you nodded. She sat on the armchair next to the couch and you instantly knew that she was too far away for your liking. Shuffling down of the cushions you made your way over to Natasha and slotted your hand into hers, a large smile forming on her face. You pulled her to her feet and dragged her back to your mountain of blankets, silently asking her to join you, which she of course did. After a while of content movie watching, Maria excused herself, leaving you and Natasha to talk. “Y/n” Nat said, drawing your focus to her “I’m so sorry I scared you today” you looked up to her emerald eyes and saw nothing but regret, a look your father never had. He had never told you he was sorry after shouting and he definitely didn’t after he had thrown you around the house. You knew Natasha was different, every touch to your skin was gentle and every sentence was soft. “I forgive you” you said noticing a tear forming in the corner of Natasha’s eye “don’t cry Natty” you said as you came to your knees and crawled to wipe away her stray tear. “I promise you I will never hurt you y/n, you don’t have to be scared of me” Natasha sniffled “‘M not scared of you” you sat back on your heels “but I am scared of daddy” you admitted “and I’m scared of Dreykov, and the red room. I don’t wanna go back there” Natasha broke hearing you say the very same words she had once pleaded. “You don’t ever have to go back there baby” the red head cried with you “not to the red room and not to daddy, you can stay with me forever” you collapsed into Nats arms and held on tight, you knew you were never letting go “look at me y/n” Natasha said as she lifted your chin with her pinky “it’s okay to be afraid. I’m afraid too sometimes, but me and you are gonna stick together and I will always look after you” he sniffled “I’ll look after you too Natty”

-Week 8 at S.H.I.E.L.D-

Waking up next to Natasha felt safe. She was warm and always had one arm holding you close. The widow had tried to coax you into your own bed, adjacent to her own on the other side of the room. Each night, however, you would always end up cuddled together. Natasha understood it was where you felt most comfortable but still dealing with her own nightmares at the same time was hard, thankfully you were a heavy sleeper but Nat always feared she would startle you awake too.

Today was a big day. You hadn’t been outside of the S.H.I.E.L.D grounds since you arrived, the outside world seeming too scary. Natasha had seen you though, staring up at the city through the fencing. Your little mind was so curious and you had yet to explore the world outside of an abusive environment. You were excitedly nervous when Natasha told you she needed to take a trip to the store, you had never been to one of those before. The red head didn’t really need to go but it was a good excuse to get you out of HQ. She had agreed with Fury that a car of specialist agents would follow close behind, dressed in everyday clothes as to not frighten you although they were ultimately there to protect you. Fury accepted Natasha’s many requests, despite not fully understanding why he needed 10 members of his team watching the surrounding areas.

“Good morning Natty” you said as you gently laid your weight over her stomach, you were clingiest in the morning and Natasha loved it. Thinking back to the first few weeks you were here, it was remarkable that you accepted her loving touch so easily now. “Are you looking forward to our trip out today?” Nat asked “yeah. But ‘M a little nervous” you mumbled behind a yawn “that’s alright sweetheart” Natasha said as she pushed your baby hairs to the side “I’ll keep you safe y/n” she smiled, and you smiled back. The redhead considered asking you if you wanted to go to a cafe for breakfast but thought that might be too much for todays adventure.

“Okay, other foot darling” Natasha said as reached for the laces on your right shoe. “Alright, I think we’re ready to go!” She finished with a gentle pat to your shoe clad foot. You followed Natasha through the building towards the garage area, reaching for her hand every now and then but deciding against it. “Woah!” You said as you helped the redhead push open the door “would you like to pick a car? We’re allowed to take any one that we want!” She said “yes please” you excitedly giggled and instantly moved towards the convertible Volkswagen Beatle. “You wanna take the bug y/n?” Nat asked, you nodded with anticipation and the widow helped you into the car seat Maria had gotten for you.

You were amazed. The trees swaying so freely, all the colours in the bushes just filled with flowers. You couldn’t keep still the entire journey, every corner filling your little mind with wonder. As curious as you were, you failed to catch the unmarked S.H.I.E.L.D car trailing you. Natasha however, was glancing in the mirror every few moments to make sure they were still there, your safety being her number one priority. You got excited when the tall buildings of the city came into view but were immediately disappointed when Natasha took a left turn into a car park. “Ok here we are!” Nat said “do you have the list I gave you sweetheart?” You held up the notepad high to show Natasha you had taken good care of it.

When you reached for Natasha’s hand this time, just outside the shop doors, she obliged straight away. Keeping a tight grip on you and the basket in her other hand, she asked you what was the first item on the list. Natasha didn’t actually need any of the things she had written down but they were basic necessities so would one day become useful. You stayed close to your best friend the entire time, starting to feel slightly overwhelmed as the store filled up with customers. The lights were getting to bright and the mixed sent from each department was too much but as long as Natasha was beside you, you knew you would be okay. “Ok I think we’re all done darling” the redhead said “shall we double check?” She continued as she put down the heavy basket. You began to list of every item on your piece of paper “toothpaste” you said “check” Natasha answered “shampoo”

“Check”

“Soap”

“Check”

“Lotion”

“Check! I think we’re all good!” Natasha finally said after you had ticked of every item. “You’ve been so helpful y/n, how about we go and pick you out a new outfit?” Truth be told you were ready to leave but you had been eyeing up the clothes every time you wandered past “okay” you said and retook Nat’s hand.

You didn’t like this section anymore, at first it had been fun all these bright colours and pretty dresses, but each time you picked something out Natasha would let go of your hand to pull it off the rail. Eventually both your hands were so full of clothes that you had no way to connect, thankfully Natasha had suggested that it was time to leave so you followed close by to the checkout making sure you could see her red locks the entire time. A group of teenagers came charging towards you both, taking you by surprise and causing you drop your new sneakers. You quickly lent down to grab them but when you looked up again Natasha’s red hair was no where to be seen. You immediately panicked, not being able to see the widow, dropping everything in your grasp to run ahead and catch up to her. You expected she would be just around the corner but when you shuffled around on the slippery floor, she wasn’t there. A gentlemen came up behind you with your discarded items “here you go y/n” the man said, causing you to let out a squeal at the unwelcome touch “no go away!” You screamed and ran in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, Natasha was frantically searching for you in every isle and around every bend. “Y/n?” She called at every corner. All your shopping was long gone by now, nothing mattered more to Natasha than you did. She ran through the store, halting when she saw agent Carlos holding the clothes and shoes you had picked out. She came crashing into him demanding to know where you were “she got frightened and ran off agent Romanoff” he timidly said, fearing the darkness in the red heads eyes. “Well contact everyone else! Find her!” She demanded and began to race the store in search for you again.

The toy isle seemed a great place to hide, you knocked the boxes of the bottom shelf causing quite a commotion. While pushing the remaining toys out of your way, agent Hill had caught you in the corner of her eye “Romanoff I’ve got her, the toy section” she said into the cuff of her sleeves drawing questioning looks from other customers. Just before you could climb into your hidden safe space, an arm interlocked with your own “no!” You yelled “let me go!” You kicked as Maria pulled you towards her “it’s alright y/n it’s me” she pleaded. Through your teary eyes, you couldn’t quite make out her face and although you recognised her voice she wasn’t who you wanted “no! I want mama! Where’s my mama!” You cried out.

Natasha came speeding down the shop floor, scanning every isle despite knowing where you were. A huddle of onlookers had appeared, Nat simply pushed through them ignoring their huffs of disapproval. She rounded the corner to see you backing away from Maria screaming for your mom, how Natasha’s heart broke, knowing she could never bring her back to you. “Y/n?” The widow said, your head immediately whipping to her direction, your screams stopped for a moment but your howling increased as your eyes met Natasha’s “mama!” You cried as your feet picked up and you ran straight for her. Natasha’s world fell still, you were calling for her. Calling a name she had only dreamed of one day hearing and knew she never would. “Mommy!” you cried once more as Natasha’s world came back to life, her own feet leading her towards you. “Come here baby girl!” She said, and moments later your bodies collided into the most loving embrace the two of you had ever witnessed “mommy’s here y/n” she said into your ear as you cried into her shoulder “please don’t leave me mommy!” You sobbed “I’m not going anywhere y/n, I promise” Natasha said “mama’s got you. Let’s go home baby”

That night, Natasha welcomed you into her bed, wanting to hold you close. You had spent all evening trying on your new clothes (Maria had made sure they were purchased along with the toys you had accidentally broken) you had put on a fashion show for your new mama and required her validation for every outfit, not that you needed it. You had worn yourself out before your usual bedtime and Natasha had decided the two of you would have a movie night. Your eyes had fell closed no more than 30 minutes into the first film. Nat turned off the lights, leaving just the one on her bedside table, you shifted as the redhead pulled the duvet up to cover you both “mh” you whined “mama” you huffed as you cuddled into her side “I’m here sweetheart” your mommy said, holding you tightly in her arms. You fell soundly asleep in the arms of your mom, the woman you love most in the world. As for Natasha, she fell asleep holding in her hands what had only ever been a dream. A dream the red room had tried to take away from her, yet here she was holding her daughter, holding you.

————

This is the longest fic I’ve ever written so I apologise if there’s any mistakes I tried my best to get it done quickly as well and with my dyslexic ass there’s probably mistakes all over it

Happy new year guys🩷

[stonathandreamer]

Babysitting

🔸 Masterlist

Synopsys: Jonathan receives a call from Steve saying he needs help with something "really important. Code red." Jonathan immediately rushes to his boyfriend's house, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. Turns out the "really important" is also "really unexpected." Steve never ceases to surprise him, it seems.

A/N: Why is the thought of Steve and Jonathan interacting with a baby so cute? 😭

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a very long and classic "I am so done with this shit" Byers sigh. Steve called him earlier saying he needed help with something really important, and Jonathan, being the ever-attentive boyfriend he is, immediately went to Steve's house to help him with... Whatever the hell he needed help with. But Jonathan wasn't expecting THIS.

"Please, tell me you didn't kidnap her, Steve. I really don't want to call Child Protective Service tonight."

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes at Jonathan's words as he bounced the baby in his arms. The baby was currently quite distracted with the set of keys Steve was jiggling in front of her.

"First of all, hello to you too," Jonathan rolled his eyes at Steve's sarcasm. And second of all, I did not kidnap her. This is Emma, my neighbor's daughter. Babe, baby. Baby, babe." Steve said as he gestured to Jonathan while saying "babe" and Emma when saying "baby."

Jonathan rolled his eyes again though a small ghost of a smile started forming in the corner of his lips. Steve's ability to crack jokes at literally every opportunity is amusingly annoying. It makes Jonathan want to strangle him and kiss him simultaneously.

"And lemme guess... They asked you to babysit her, and you accepted because they offered a load of cash, and you need money for something stupid, but then you realize you have no idea at all how to take care of a baby. What happened? She started crying and you had no idea how to make her stop, so you started jiggling your keys to keep her distracted?"

Steve stopped jiggling the keys and his chin fell to the ground as Jonathan accurately described his past 30 minutes with the baby. He was almost 100% correct, save for the "money for something stupid" part, but hey, Jonathan doesn't need to know the money is because Steve's planning to take him on a nice date next weekend. The sound of Emma whining brought him back to reality and Steve began jiggling the keys again to keep her distracted. He coughed awkwardly while trying to regain his composure and hide his slightly blushing cheeks.

"Y-yeah... That's basically what happened..." Steve replied in a small voice as he guided Jonathan inside to sit on the couch. "So, uh... A little help... Babe?"

Jonathan chuckled and shook his head at Steve's (rather adorable) flustered face. Oh, how could he not help his cute boyfriend?

"Okay, okay, lemme handle her," Jonathan extended his arms and took Emma from Steve's arms. The baby made a small noise of confusion at being transported to someone else's arms as she stared at Jonathan with her confused but curious big brown eyes. Jonathan smiled and bounced her up and down as he spoke with a gentle tone, "Hey there, Emma. I'm Jonathan. You're such a cute baby, you know?"

Emma giggled, finding Jonathan's voice somewhat funny. She extended her arm and pressed her tiny hand against his cheek, making Jonathan chuckle a bit, which earned another giggle.

Steve watched his boyfriend play with the baby, a fond smile on his face. Seeing his ever-so-shy, collected, and sometimes (adorably) awkward boyfriend smiling and laughing while playing with a baby made his heart melt like ice cream during summertime, and his brain short-circuit with adorableness. Before Steve knew it, he was already talking.

"I wanna have kids with you."

Jonathan's head turned around at lightspeed the second his brain registered Steve's words, his hair brushing past Emma's nose, making her giggle again. He looked right at Steve's short-circuited face with comically wide eyes.

"W... Wha...?"

Steve nodded vigorously as a wide smile appeared on his face. He seemed like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yeah! Let's have kids, Jonny! Our little Byers-Harrington nuggets— Wait... No... Harrington-Byers! Yeah! Our little Harrington-Byers nuggets! I'm thinking six kids—"

"SIX?!"

[memoirs-of-learning-dad]

Wow, I'm such a b****. Rereading that last post, and it's almost like I'm on the brink of emotional cheating? Slandering my ally, my best friend, mother of my daughter? And for what exactly? Because she was having a rough day and didn't give me enough attention on my birthday? I mean I know I'm just here trying to put my emotions into words and it's anonymous, but all that I wrote last time is out there on the internet. And it is disrespectful to my wife and the integrity of our relationship. No, I need to correct it. To anybody who reads my posts and happens to have read the last one, about me crying like a little b**** about how I'm "giving", and the good guy, and all needy and self-absorbed and craving attention on my birthday, you have to know the other side of the story. I need to put the next part of that story out, and own up to how wrong and petty I was last time! Obviously, this one is going to be about some self reflection I guess and making things right. So please bear with me!

A big part of being a good parent is to understand and accept when you are wrong, unlearn those things and try and learn a new better way of doing that thing. Like, one example, my therapist addresses her SO as "partner" . It was new to me, and I immediately assumed she maybe had a non-straight (hope that's PC) relationship/marriage and that's why addressed her SO as "partner". Then, she talked about her kids, I thought, maybe she is actually in a straight marriage with kids! Now, that's interesting to my curious mind! English is not my first language, so I usually tend to address my SO as "wife", that's not the only reason though, is it? I grew up in a traditional family with a culturally patriarchal social system. So, there was this system of hierarchy or authority at home, an unwritten corporate ladder in a way. The father/husband/man-of-the-house was number one, the guy on top who makes the final call, who has the power to veto any other decision. Then there's the mother/wife/equally-responsible-for-proper-functioning-of-house-but-still-for-some-reason-number-2. I suddenly started thinking that, the word wife represents this outdated idea and family structure ... like it has a certain tone? or paints a certain picture in your mind? And I haven't even started talking about same sex marriages - husband and wife? Felt wrong on many levels! But "partner"? Yep that sounds perfect and complete and inclusive if you ask me. My wife/partner has an equal/a huge role to play in the proper functioning of our house, my daughter sees that, I want her to see that I see that, we need to acknowledge and appreciate it. Yes, she's my partner. We are 50-50 in everything.

Now with that out of the way, about my birthday, Tumblr gave me a nice gift on that day! Or rather the person who commented on my previous post! I am new to Tumblr and I don't know if I can tag you or something, but the person who commented on my previous post? If you're reading this one and have had the patience to read until here (lol) THANK YOU! Just knowing that someone out there actually read my long posts? AND connected and related with it, commented positive responses on it? I swear you brought a tear to my eye! Looks like I'm not absolutely alone in these day to day struggles?

Anyway back to the story, I slept after making that post, the next morning, I literally opened my eyes to my partner standing there with a big smile on her face wishing me "happy birthday". Yep, I was so happy, delighted even - but I just said thanks with a small smile and walked away, why? Obviously, the man-child in me had to throw a tantrum, and my bipolar a** had to escalate and drag the situation more than it was supposed to, right? Inevitable, no?

She went downstairs without a word, I went in for my regular read-stuff-on-phone-on-the-pot-for-40-minutes routine, and read the comments on my post. I took away quite a few things from just those few simple words, kind stranger.

you are right, about the giving and reciprocating thing being a personality trait, 100% agreed. I just made that woman joke to try and keep things light, I guess? I have been watching Bill Burr lately, maybe that influenced my humor a little, lol? Jokes aside, I agree with you, because I myself am not a very emotionally expressive person. Maybe my untreated illnesses or just being busy in the grind for making a better life and career, I guess I never properly paid attention to learning emotional regulation, healthy coping mechanisms, etc. I'm not that giving myself either - it takes me a lot to trust someone and be vulnerable with them. One week I'm all giving and all touchy and the next I'll not utter a word. But all that is changing - a combination of getting a proper diagnosis to understand my own behavior patterns, good medication, a good therapist and generally just a new perspective to life after becoming a parent, has grounded me and I'm trying to become more emotionally stable, cope better, manage expectations. With all that being said, I think I have to emphasize how kind of a person my partner is, how giving she is and how receptive she is. Yes, I was down and sad that she was distant, but it's the circumstances and not the person. There are a lot of factors for her to behave the way she did. Don't forget, she's the mother of a really hyperactive 2 year old who has serious strangers anxiety right now and is clingy to her mother all the time, until she sleeps! And over that, household chores, a high stress job, a man-child husband acting like a fool. Moreover, it's not my information to share, so to put it vaguely, her family has suffered a major trauma this year, so she still had some knowing bag days from that incident. And that kind of justifies her trying to be there for her sister. And it's not like she completely ignored my thing either. So, I guess it's ok for her to be checked out sometimes? This is on me - I knew all these facts and circumstances, but I was not consciously aware of them. That or/and me being a little self absorbed and excited in my own head about my birthday.

And yes, capitalism+job is a factor! But guess who she is working hard for? Our family. I know for a fact, that she wasn't sitting there working at 9PM after putting a 2 year old to sleep, regular household chores, because she wanted to. I wouldn't want her to quit or lose her job, I mean if she wanted to willingly quit, yes. Her income is important for us to provide the best possible future for our child. Hell I'm not even ashamed to admit, that her job, and in turn a consequence of capitalism and wealth is giving me a good life! We have both lived with literally bare necessities when we first moved to this country. We worked hard and have been tremendously lucky to be living with relative financial privilege now. She has worked really hard and deserves to be in this position, this career and she has every right to put in as much effort as she wanted and I should be supporting her, and I will! And again, selfishly admitting, her job is helping us live a better quality of life, and I like it and appreciate it.

Wow drifted away again, coming back to my birthday. After all the potty introspection and enlightenment I headed downstairs, and found her sitting on the sofa silently crying and trying to sort herself out as soon as she realized I was going to walk in. But I saw her. It broke my heart, always does. I walked over to her, and tried to console her. Over she was calm, I tried to express what I was feeling, again thanks to my therapist, I was able to have a really civil and calm conversation, express what affected me, listen, like really listen to what she had to say, her feelings and emotions, and we resolved our differences. Before therapy and medication, this was one of those situations which could easily blow up into a full blown argument or fight and me getting angry, oof! Toxic.. Untreated mental illnesses are hell, but with the right help and support and understanding people around (who love you unconditionally and support your, even though they are directly or indirectly constantly affected by the illness), everybody has a chance to live the ideal life they want to.

I asked her, if we should still go out? I mean should we just stay in and relax or something? Cool down? She said she had been planning for this day for weeks, so we got ready to leave. She asked me if she could get a hug, and I just felt like we should hold off until the end of the day - please don't misunderstand me. I wasn't being petty or mean or anything, I wanted that hug so badly. But all my instincts told me we should wait. She understood. Then we went out on this amazing drive, with beautiful scenes and sunlight and ocean breeze.. Then this hidden gem of a restaurant in the middle of nowhere, with beautiful waterfront views, just special. On our way back the moment arrived which just called for a hug, and that's it felt well earned, valuable and precious. Trying to put that feeling into words is impossible so I'm just going to leave it at that.

Obviously, paapu missed out on this, even though it was our date, lovers private time, we still felt guilty. So we took her out for dinner as well, and I just had such an amazing day. Nothing flashy or fancy, no parties, no surprises, no expensive gifts. Just valuable time with my girls. Especially the big one, we needed that, we both needed that.

So what is this post really about? Am I too emotionally fragile? Am I too immature for a 33 year old father of a 2 year old? Am I bad SO? Do I trip too much about unnecessary stuff? Am I a bad person for bad mouthing my soul mate? The only person in the world who knows me? My confidante? Or is all this just bipolar disorder? Or is all just normal? We have struggled a lot to be together, struggled a lot to stay together, because of both internal and external factors. We had to pass through so many storms, we have stuck with each other, out of choice - no matter what. To the point that our interdependence has become scary even, and then without any regard for all of that, I made an angry post about some silly birthday of mine. We are still going to have disagreements, and fights even, but try not to make her cry and cut down a little on narcissism? Anyway, to anybody who's reading this, what's your takeaway? Do you feel like punching me, or sympathizing or disappointed or just feel like "this guy is just having another normal day"?

What else? Obviously, I have to talk about the other girl - that little lump of joy? It's becoming a mean little girl. She's mean, dude! Toddlers are so mean. She has started to revolt now, freaking small person! How the hell are they so emotionally intelligent yet so utterly helpless? In case it's not already clear from my last few posts, I'm the parent who says no much more, so nowadays, whenever I say a stern no, she literally looks in my eyes and does that action - like wtaf! Like, she was taking out tissues from a box, I said take out just one please? She took out one. Then she reached in to get another one out, I called out and politely said "no! Didn't we agree that we will take only one?". The little meanie, looked right in my eye, and while continuously staring into my eyes, blank expression on her face, she reached into the box and pulled out as many papers as would come out. TWICE! Everybody says parenting is hard, talk about sleepless nights, physical exhaustion, moral dilemmas. But nobody prepares you for the simple fact, that kids are proper a-holes to their parents. I sincerely apologize for saying it, but it's true. They just want to see your breaking point for every small thing. Terrible twos? Ya, just started for me, and the signs don't look encouraging, but onwards we go, learning as the challenges come. Managed it till here, we'll see whatever comes next! Until next time!

[msfbgraves]

Daniel comes off like such a loving, super affectionate, snuggly and cuddly parent in Mobverse. Like, the one who would cuddle you and kiss it better if you cut yourself. And let you cry in his arms and cry with you when someone breaks your heart. He’s super soft for his pups, but I suppose they still listen to him, since he has to lay down the law sometimes! Terry is the one who comes off as being more of the disciplinarian, and much stricter. To the point that his puppies respect and love him…but also fear him. 

You don't want to disappoint Mama and have that flow of love turned off, even though it is a completely normal parenting correction. That shocks his pups so much, the contrast between Daniel being happy with them and telling them no! Again, he doesn't do anything harsh or mean but Mama's warm self looking scared for them or disapproving (most of them are Alphas, scared omegas are scary in and of themselves, even if they're your Mama scared for you!), it feels like being doused in ice water. Robby is less affected by that but well, he's an incredibly Good Boy whose siblings (save Sam) can be a bit too rowdy so he hangs out with Mama a lot for that reason. Anthony is the first of the first litter immune to that disappointment because he is like "He'll come around, I'm fabulous!" which is incredibly funny in a child. It's Sam who is not having any of that, and it's Sam he wants to please - a softer Alpha than Daddy with lower expectations of him and someone he isn't as similar to. He knows all Mama's charm tricks and he knows exactly how Daddy ticks - makes them less intimidating. But if Big Sis won't let him tag along he's devastated. As for Terry - Daddy is always hell bent on their survival, especially the Alpha pups and that is an expression of love, but I don't think a 7 year old can really appreciate that. He's a bit rudderless without Mama. He's made the mistake he's in danger with repeating with his pups before with Amanda: so focused on keeping her safe and provided for that he sends her an ocean away and only afterwards he realises how emotionally mutilated he feels. Terry is always so busy protecting his brood that when there's nothing to protect them from, well, now what? Protect them from future threats, I guess - kids, did you do your homework? Yeah? Well there's more Daddy can teach you! Stop hitting your brother, Yasmin, if you'd paid attention you would have seen that coming before you had to escalate - Robby, no! There's so many small nudges and hints Daniel gives him about when a puppy needs a smile and a cuddle and a tickle and a "good job" instead they both not even realise they're doing it, though the pups know Daddy is so much more open and fun and relaxed with Mama around even if he never lets anyone forget where The Line is. Daddy is a great playmate, tells fantastic stories and he always listens, he's also a great hugger when there's big dogs or dentist appointments or very nasty bouts of flu, it is Daddy who will sit with you through the worst in the dead of night- not because Mama wouldn't, but because there are more people to care for - and he'll sing for you, old Irish ballads that call you home through fever dreams. It's just that the man has absolutely no chill.

[mixelation]

more!!! some new characters appear :)

They led them into a side entrance of Iwa and then into a windowless room for a “security screening.”

Deidara ground the teeth in his hand together in an attempt to keep his face straight. He didn’t think it was working, as Tori kept shooting him pointed looks. Sometimes it was nice to have someone who could read him like that. Right now he was considering smashing her face into the wall. 

“She’s not the only one who can see your face,” Itachi told him, and Deidara whipped around and aimed a punch at his face. 

“Oi, oi,” the Iwa-nin currently trying to supervise their security check called, and then two Iwa-nin were yanking him off. “Namikaze-san, please control your–”

“It’s Uzumaki, actually,” Kushina-sensei corrected, smile benevolent. 

The security check was not going smoothly, as Kushina-sensei’s plan was to waste their time as much as possible so they’d be too exhausted to ask questions about Deidara. She currently stood in front of them, half undressed, arms spread out, as a grand total of three people combed through her hair. 

“Oopsies,” she said when someone unearthed yet another piece of tiny, rolled up sealing paper. “Gosh, who knew those would all survive washing my hair?” 

It wasn’t even a used piece of sealing paper; everything she had on her was blank. Iwa was just that scared of their dear Hokage-sama. It would be funny, if Deidara weren’t currently so on edge. 

Kushina-sensei had also told them she’d forgotten she’d sewn some extra paper into her flak jacket. Some poor idiot within a seam ripper was currently dismantling her jacket and outer shirt with an increasingly panicked expression as she found more and more tiny scraps of paper. 

This would indeed all be hilarious, except Deidara had just remembered how much of an asshole that guy was, and the lady with the seam ripper had once threatened to put gum in his hair, and that guy had definitely called his art stupid at least twice--

Deidara realized the man he was strangling was definitely a genjutsu. He broke it to find Itachi staring at him blandly. 

“Okay, we finished with the Kiri team,” someone announced, pushing open a door. She proceeded to look completely dumbfounded that this group was still searching Kushina. 

They brought in more people to do a second, concurrent search of the genin, and Tori leapt to her feet to volunteer. 

“You’re not going to make me strip too, are you?” Tori asked, visibly nervous. “There are boys here.” 

Deidara didn’t know what the Kiri team was like, but the second team already looked very, very tired. Kushina had not let any of her sweet genin carry forbidden items, but Tori pretended she didn’t understand anyone’s instructions. 

“I don’t get it,” she said of being asked to hold her arms out. Instead, she’d lifted them straight above her head. “Could you demonstrate?” 

Itachi’s instructions from Kushina-sensei had been to “be himself,�� and he was, and he was a jerk about it. By the time someone got to look at Deidara’s hands, they looked like they wanted to cry. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” the supervisor asked. 

“Hold on, let me put my clothes back on first,” Kushina-sensei replied. 

Deidara didn’t know if the average Iwa Jounin knew about him. His parentage had not been common knowledge in the other timeline, he knew. He’d guess that Iwa would have general orders to bring back any lost children with their coveted combination of hand-mouths and explosion release, and they certainly had sent people actively looking for him more than once. But unless one happened to be on the Deidara retrieval team, if one existed, Deidara would guess that most Iwa-nin were not on the constant hunt for wayward experiments. 

Maybe the hand-mouths would make it into a report and a less mentally exhausted person would realize who Konoha genin #3 was. They’d definitely notice him once the exam started. But for today, a very freaked out looking woman stuck a tongue depressor in his hands, and then he was following the rest of his team into the next room. 

If Deidara had ever been in this specific room as an Iwa-nin, he didn’t remember it. It wasn’t one of the regular briefing rooms, although it shared all the same furniture and overhead projector. A cluster of chairs in uneven lines faced the wall, and the Kiri team looked up from their seats. 

Holy shit, Deidara thought, a smile cracking across his face for the first time that day. Next to him, Itachi straightened. Finally, something interesting! 

Kiri had not sent a full genin team. They’d sent a singular genin and a minder Jounin, who happened to be Hoshigaki Kisame. 

Kisame’s ever present smile slipped right off his face into a look of shock. Good, good, so he was a time traveler too, just like they thought. 

Completely ignorant to his Jounin’s reaction, the little silver-haired brat with him waved his arm. 

“Yo, what took you so long?” he asked. His teeth were filed into points, the way a shockingly large number of Kiri-nin did. “Get caught with contraband or something?”

(Both the kid and Kisame had swords on their backs, so obviously their list of contraband was different.)

Deidara missed whatever quip Kushina provided as an answer, because Kisame looked like he was going through every stage of grief simultaneously. It was a great, artistic look. 

Itachi stepped forward, and Deidara spared him a glance to watch him attempt to beam information telepathically to Kisame. Kisame sighed deeply and turned to nudge his genin’s shoulder. 

“Be polite,” he cautioned. “You don’t have any allies here.”

The brat rolled his eyes like he thought he was hot shit. Deidara might have told him off under other circumstances, but it wasn’t really worth it to start a fight with a kid whose ass they were just going to kick later anyway, and also Kisame’s face had settled into something deeply disturbed. 

Deidara supposed he’d be disturbed too, if you went into the old timeline and told him he’d be a Konoha-nin and hanging out with Itachi. Or maybe Kisame was bothered by a world where Tori knew how to use a kunai? This was also disturbing. 

The Iwa supervisor dimmed the lights and started on a slide presentation for orientation. God, did Deidara not miss the Iwa slide presentations. There really were much quicker and less boring ways to do a mission briefing, and the projectors didn’t even start a very good fire if you sabotaged them. 

Iwa was very honored to host them (this was a lie). Foreign teams had their own accommodations, which had their own training facilities (they were abandoned genin dorms that had probably been condemned). They weren’t to stray from them. The front desk of their dorm would be manned 24/7, and they could request supplies as needed, within reason. They’d be given a schedule for the exam in the morning. Meals were served in the dorm; dinner was at six, and breakfast was at seven -thirty. 

“Any questions?” the supervisor asked.

Tori’s hand shot into the air. “Can you define ‘within reason’ for shinobi supplies?”

“A shinobi tool you might reasonably use during your exam,” he said. 

“Sorry, I don’t think I get it,” Tori replied, eyes wide with the same dumb look she’d used on the search team. “You used the word I wanted defined in your answer…”

Kushina had to turn her face to hide a laugh. The supervisor glared. Usually, in Deidara’s experience, this was the part where you’d get told to shut up and figure it out yourself. Unfortunately for this man, his current assignment was to play nice with the foreign visitors. 

Instead of telling Tori to shut up, the supervisor replied in a very Iwa no-nonsense way: “I think a chunin would know the definition of ‘reasonable.’” 

“I mean I know the dictionary definition,” Tori said, blinking lazily at him. “But I’ve never taken a chunin exam before, so I don’t know what would be reasonable for the exam. For example, would requesting a sword be reasonable? Exploding tags? A fire-starting kit?” 

She needled him, asking increasingly dumb-sounding questions about various potential supplies, and Deidara watched with mild satisfaction as the supervisor got more and more frustrated with her line of questioning. It wasn’t a bad interrogation strategy: Tori didn’t get him to disclose there was a survival portion of the exam, but he basically admitted to it with the sorts of things he defined as ‘reasonable’ or not. She even won them hints of what sort of terrain they were looking at. 

The thing was, she didn’t need to do any of this. Tori knew how Chunin Exams were formatted, and she knew what Iwa was likely to do because Deidara had told her. Either she had just decided to ruin this one guy’s afternoon, or she was showing off. 

Deidara stole a glance at Kisame, who was openly watching Tori like she was a rerun of a show he only half-remembered and couldn’t decide if he liked or not. Was she showing off for him? 

“Is that it?” the supervisor seethed at Tori ten minutes later. 

“Umm,” Tori said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I have a question,” Kushina said, leaning forward. The supervisor looked vaguely like he wanted to scream. Kushina’s eyes glinted with mischief. “What’s the final entrant count?”

The exams were a decent size this year: there were several teams from the smaller nations, as well as a few from Kumo. Larger nations were less apt to send teams to unallied countries, so Suna had abstained entirely and Kiri had just sent the one genin. 

“I’m Hoozuki Mangetsu,” he introduced as they were led to their shitty dorms. He’d hopped ahead to fall into step next to Tori. “That was cool, back there. Funny and informative.”

“You’re welcome,” Tori told him. She’d back off on her dumbass act, but she’d painted a friendly smile on her face that Deidara recognized as completely disingenuous. “I’m Tori. You must be pretty good, for Kiri to send just you.”

“Well,” Mangetsu told her, tilting his head to the side to show off the hilt of the sword on his back. “I’m in training to be one of the Seven Swordsman. He pointed at Kisame. “That’s Hoshigaki Kisame. You might have heard of him.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Tori said with a tone of complete sincerity. Kisame missed a step. 

She introduced the rest of Team 4 lazily, using given names only without name dropping either Uchiha or Uzumaki. Deidara would never fully understand this sort of game she would play: revealing information only when she wanted attention or a distraction, and then completely skipping over important or impressive details otherwise. Of course, in this case he certainly didn’t mind her not bragging about the greatness of Uchiha Itachi, important clan heir and resident genius asshole.

“I haven’t heard of your sensei either,” Mangetsu told her, a hint of bitterness in his voice. 

“That’s okay,” Tori told him, smile not slipping an inch. “Iwa has, which is why they didn’t let us bring in any of our own weapons.” She sped up after their guide. “Excuse me, Shinobi-san, where can we ask for those supplies…?”

Mangetsu slowed down his walk, watching her go with a vaguely scandalized look on his face. 

“She’s not worth it,” Kisame told him. Kisame looked, in Deidara’s opinion, extremely longsuffering, like he’d remembered a particularly bad plot twist in the show he’d been watching. 

reborn au, deidara POV. start of the chunin exams

Deidara sat across the desk from the Hokage, wedged between Itachi and Tori. Oonoki, and any commanding officer below him, would have made him stand, even if he was bleeding out. 

Minato, meanwhile, tended to make meetings feel more like a conversation. Brief communications were done standing, but for their longer meetings he’d gesture for them to pull up chairs and then lean back casually in his own seat. He usually didn’t even complain if someone interrupted him with questions. 

(Which Team 4 did. A lot. Because Itachi and Tori were both assholes who thought they were smarter than they were. Deidara, meanwhile, only had the most salient of interruptions.)

MInato did this even with super serious missions, like his insane plot to have them enter the Iwa Chunin Exam as cover to extract a Konoha prisoner.

Deidara wasn’t sure if Minato was so casual for all his shinobi, or if being on his wife’s team got them special privileges. Kushina-sensei had, in fact, chosen to sit on the desk rather than a chair, the backs of her sandals clunking against the wood. But even if it was just a perk of being on Kushina-sensei’s team, Deidara would take this lax style over anything Iwa ever put him through. 

“Iwa sent their finalized list of contraband,” Minato said, voice cheerful. He held up a stack of papers. “I’ll read them to you. It’s pretty intense.”

The list was… lengthy. And sort of insane. They banned them from bringing in their own weapons, promising to provide adequate replacements upon arrival. They also banned all fuinjutsu related material, including any type of paper or writing utensil, and then an increasingly unhinged list of items which seem to pose no real danger to Deidara. 

Minato’s voice cracked at reading the phrase “nectars and other viscous juices,” and then he turned and coughed a couple times to cover up laughter. 

Kushina-sensei was also covering a smile with one hand. 

“Did they put an insane person in charge of communications?” Deidara asked. 

“No, they…” Minato had to pause a moment to get ahold of himself again. “They really, really don’t want you sneaking in a Hiraishin marker. Or making a new one.”

“Sorry,” Kushina-sensei told them, not looking the least bit sorry. “They’re probably only this paranoid because I’m your sensei.”

This did make sense to Deidara. The Iwa he’d grown up in, in the other timeline, had been one in which the Yellow Flash was dead and gone, and the man was still haunting old people’s nightmares. Some of Deidara’s older Academy texts had been from before his death, and they’d included insane protocols for what to do if he showed up on the field. Not a Konoha ninja, not a ninja with a specific technique– just him. No other Kage had such an honor. 

He could only imagine the sort of cultural anxiety Minato was inflicting on Iwa just by existing. 

The idea was sort of exiting, actually. All that fear and anxiety building up for years, just waiting for someone to come along and end it all in one glorious moment–

Tori elbowed him. To Minato, she asked, “Will they give us fuinjutsu supplies too, or do we have to get creative?”

Minato’s lips quirked upwards. 

“They will give you fuinjutsu supplies,” he said. “A village only makes money off an exam if they can show off promising genin, and I convinced them it would be necessary for you to give a good show.”

“But I don’t get any?” Kushina-sensei clarified. 

Any Iwa-nin who’d done two seconds of research on Uzumaki Kushina would want to ban her from even touching a brush forever. Even if she hadn’t gotten famous off of murder like he had, she and Minato came as a set: half his techniques were from her, and if anyone was going to be making Hiraishin markers and spreading them around, it would be her. 

“I don’t know how they’ll enforce Tori having access but not you,” Minato admitted. “Supervision, maybe.”

Itachi cleared his throat. “You're sure this isn’t an ambush?” he asked. 

This seemed like a good point to Deidara. They were basically just agreeing to waltz into Iwa completely weaponless and submit to whatever asshole demands Iwa might make. And like, someone like Deidara could do it, but it would be super annoying.

Minato took a moment to answer, gathering his thoughts. 

“It might be,” he said, tone suddenly deadly serious. “But their doors will be open to plenty of foreign powers, and they’ve already advertised a team from Konoha. A move against us would be very, very stupid of them.” He let a humorless smile cross his lips. “Besides, I intentionally picked a team that could still function even with every disadvantage they might give you.”

Next to him, Tori shifted uneasily. Deidara didn’t think she was nervous for herself, because Tori had wandered into worse with no ninja skills whatsoever and came out on top. It was that there was no way Minato knew that, because Tori liked to downplay her talents at every turn. She had worked her way into the mission plan as a competent fuinjutsu user, but he probably wasn’t including her in his super special hand-picked team. 

(And also, if you evaluated Tori the way you would in a classroom– throw this knife here, use this type of kick, demonstrate this particular move– she was pretty mediocre, even for a twelve year old. Tori only seemed intimidating after she’d tricked into doing something deeply stupid and then was waving some insane seal in your face.)

Deidara wasn’t even sure Minato was including him, even though he ranked right up there with Kushina-sensei and Itachi in terms of “has an absurd bloodline limit, good luck taking THAT away.” It seemed more likely he and Tori got signed up to be semi-expendable benchwarmers, and any talents they ended up displaying were just a nice perk.  

The thought made him angry. Minato might seem way cooler than Oonoki, but they were all the same, weren’t they? Minato would definitely abandon him and Tori to save his precious Konoha-born shinobi. 

Tori must be putting thought into what she would do without weapons, because she remarked, “It’s such overkill to ban all paper, though. If I already wasn’t using sealing paper, I wouldn’t be like, ‘Oh, no regular paper either? Guess I’ll just give up.’”

Deidara attempted to reel in his temper. This was Tori probing the waters of what she could get away with. She was infuriatingly cautious about it, in Deidara’s opinion, but her paranoid little brain would be better attuned to when they might have to jump ship. He should let her take lead on this and not upset himself. 

Kushina-sensei flashed her teeth at Tori. “No, obviously if you’re good enough, you can make any flat surface work. I assume that’s why they banned…. hand mirrors.”

There was a long pause while Kushina-sensei and Tori stared at each other, presumably contemplating what chaos they could cause with a hand mirror. 

Minato’s swivel chair groaned as he leaned back, dropping his papers on his desk. 

“It’s a moot point,” he said. “Tori, we don’t use untested seals in the field, and you can’t count on any seal that works on paper to work anywhere else. There’s a reason we use sealing paper. No hand mirror seals, okay?”

Hand mirrors were only the tip of the iceberg of insane shit Tori might try, but she plastered a meek smile on her face and agreed anyway. 

Disgusting, Deidara thought. He trusted this version of Tori to save his ass if they suddenly had to abandon ship, but she was also the worst possible version of herself. Unartistic. 

Itachi changed the subject again. “The overall mission is getting convoluted. How will Kushina get to Morino with fuinjutsu supplies if we may be supervised so closely? What are we going to do about Deidara’s explosion release?”

Tori opened her mouth, perhaps to suggest her own plan, only to close it and glance at Kushina-sensei. Ugh. 

“We’ll just wing it,” Kushina-sensei said with full confidence. 

Deidara turned to confirm that yes, Itachi did look like his brain had just exploded.  Also seeing this, Tori said to him, “It’s okay. You can’t actually keep a fuinjutsu master from smuggling things wherever they want.”

Now Minato looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t quite sure where to start. 

“I have an idea on how to distract them from Deidara,” Kushina-sensei said, twisting her torso to face Minato. “But they’ll eventually, uh… notice some things.”

Deidara clenched his fists, his nails digging into the bottom lips of his hand-mouths. Minato drummed his fingers on the desk. 

“It’s tricky, but they don’t have a verifiable claim on him,” Minato replied. He eyed Deidara. “Do you have a preferred cover-up story?”

“...no,” Deidara admitted. 

He didn’t like that Iwa thought they owned him, but he’d never had strong feelings about his family origins. They were assholes that treated him like shit, and he’d left. That was it. 

They kicked around a few ideas, ranging from gaslighting everyone that Deidara’s explosions had nothing to do with Iwa’s only bloodline limit, to claiming he was an old experiment of Orochimaru. They didn’t come to any sort of real conclusion, and eventually Minato said he’d sleep on it and dismissed them. 

“Deidara, can I talk to you for a moment?” Minato asked. Deidara narrowed his eyes at him, and from his peripheral vision he saw Tori flash a hand sign which was almost definitely Behave.

He crossed his arm and remained sitting while everyone else filed out. Kushina-sensei twirled in her seat so she could duck down and give Minato a peck on the cheek first. Gross. 

When they were alone, Minato asked, “How do you feel about this mission?”

“It’s a mission, yeah,” Deidara replied slowly, trying to parse what he was actually being asked. Loyalty, maybe. His father was an Iwa-nin, even if he’d never met him. He added, “I don’t really like undercover missions, but it’s fine if I get to do some art. If I get a promotion and a nice paycheck out of it, all the better.” 

Deidara still wasn’t sure he wanted to stay in Konoha, but the prospect of a steady income after being a child wandering-nin no one wanted to hire was incredibly alluring. Income meant he could have a bed, maybe even rent an art studio if Konoha Jounin got paid well. These fantasies weren’t enough to make him even consider going back to a hellhole that was Iwa, but if all Konoha had to torture him was a pushy sensei who got him in good with the Hokage, he’d take it. 

“I know you intentionally fled Iwa,” Minato said, his voice… soft for some reason. Weird. “I understand going back might be uncomfortable.”

“I’ve never been to Iwa,” Deidara defended immediately. He’d made damn sure to leave Earth Country as soon as he could, and they hadn’t even been able to put him through any of their stupid ninja aptitude tests in this timeline. 

Minato put up both hands as a calming gesture. 

“I know, I know,” he replied. “But you have their bloodline limit. You grew up outside of a village, so this might not be obvious to you yet, but your art is going to link you Iwa permanently. I don’t want to send you into Iwa unprepared.”

Deidara had to spend a few moments grinding his teeth to hold back rude words. Of course he knew. Iwa had bred him to be their perfect little killing machine.  

“It’s not Iwa’s bloodline limit,” Deidara replied eventually. “It’s mine, yeah. I decide what it’s for and what I do with it. That’s the whole point of my art, yeah.”

Minato raised both eyebrows. “Alright,” he said. “Good. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He dismissed him, leaving him with a strange promise that his door was always open if Deidara wanted to “talk.” Whatever. 

As he hopped down the stairs of Hokage tower two at a time, Deidara found himself surprised Minato had agreed that his bloodline limit was his own, separate from a village’s control. Probably a manipulation to keep Deidara away from any temptations to join Iwa. There was no way Minato would say Itachi’s eyeballs were for himself only and not Konoha, or that Kushina should use her chakra chains for anything but Konoha’s wellbeing. Villages just didn’t work like that. 

Not that Deidara would complain about special treatment…

Tori was waiting for him outside, leaning against an outside wall. They started the walk back to the genin dorms. 

“What’d he want?” she asked. 

Deidara rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “He wanted to know how I felt, yeah. Stupid.”

Tori frowned. “And how do you feel?” she asked. 

“Like you and him are both annoying, yeah,” Deidara replied. “Also, what the hell is with you twiddling your thumbs and acting stupid whenever anyone asks about fuinjutsu–”

Tori rolled her eyes right back at him. This was an ongoing argument. Deidara understood her reasoning for downplaying her talents; he just thought it was stupid. Just because Orochimaru was a manipulative scumbag didn’t mean every ninja wanted to push and push until she had a screaming breakdown. Most villages did this very slowly and steadily in a very predictable, soul-crushing kind of way.  

Somehow, Tori looped his rant at her back around. “I mean, if you have feelings about me and Oto, you definitely have some feelings about you and Iwa,” she said. “Are you going to be able to keep it together, seeing it?”

Deidara scowled at her. She’d worded it ambiguously because they were in public, but there was a definite seeing it AGAIN implied in there. And obviously Deidara didn’t want to go to Iwa, but that was the mission she and Itachi had signed him up for. He was an adult, if not physically. He could handle being annoyed by Iwa-nin for a month. 

“Obviously,” he told Tori. Then he grabbed her arm and yanked her down a side street, changing the subject entirely. “There’s a new take-out place down here. We should get dinner, yeah.”

[cersworld]

scene eleven

cast: idol!sunghoon x reader ft. enhypen, txt, stray kids, etc.

what happens when your crush and ‘friend’ start dating on what was supposed to be a good day? you go for a long walk and come home with a bag full of empty wrappers and a new found friendship with a random guy you found crying in a park at half past one in the morning, on a weekday, in the middle of winter. what could possibly go wrong? nothing. (read: everything)

warning(s): a lot of swearing, mentions of bad mental health and mental health conditions, mentions of injuries, mentions of food, toxic friend(s), etc

you’re stopped by a hand suddenly being placed on your shoulder as you try to make your way to the kitchen with six plates, two glasses and a mass of cutlery in your hands, “hey, can you tell hye jin she-” the random employee starts before you cut him off.

“they.” you correct.

“what?” he asks, visible confusion painting his face as he looks at you.

you smile at him, trying to be as polite as possible for the sake of keeping your job, “what did you need me to tell them?”

“uh yeah, could you tell her-” he starts again before you cut him off, again.

“them.” you correct once again.

this time the other employee starts getting frustrated, his voice coming out louder than before as he glares at you, “what?! look, i really don’t have time fo-”

you cut him off again, this time with a sarcastic smile as you stared him down, “i’m sorry, so you don’t have the time to respect someone?” you removed a hand from under the plates, that now wobbled precariously, to pat him on the shoulder, “buddy, i don’t think hospitality is for you then.”

he scoffs at you but you can see how his eyes waver and he struggles to make eye contact with you, “fine, whatever! tell them to wait the VIP room with you.”

“will do.” you say, grinning as you quickly escape to the kitchen to find your only friend in this place. it wasn;t that you didn’t like the others, i guess you could just say you didn’t ‘click’ with them like you did with her and you didn’t mind that, not one bit.

he should've known not to send that last message because whenever anyone said something like that, their hope would always be crushed later on. this was one of those times.

damnit, he thinks as he sees you, right before he falls off his chair, head hitting the wall behind him. double damnit, he thinks as he watches you instantly rush over, a worried look washed over your face as you ask him if he’s okay.

he stares at you dazedly, not registering whatever you were trying to say to him as all he could think about was how you looked so much prettier when he could see your whole face without the cover of darkness.

before he could do something stupid, like reach out and touch your face, he felt your hand wrap around his as he was pulled up and onto his feet. your arm then slid around his back as you pulled his arm around your waist, starting to walk him towards the door.

“i’m just gonna take him outside for some fresh air, okay?” you said to the rest of the boys who just stood there, shocked.

at this, sunghoon quickly snapped out of his thoughts, clearing his throat as he turned to you, “n-no, i’m fine now, sorry about that.”

you looked at him, somewhat relieved because he had finally spoken but still worried, “are you sure?” you asked softly, glancing at the boy next to them who quickly got the message and picked up the fallen chair beside him.

you placed sunghoon in his chair and bent down in front of him so that he was now looking down at you, “is it okay if i touch your face?” you asked softly, getting a nod in response. You placed your hands on his cheeks before leaning in closer, “look at me, please.” you said, watching as both his eyes focused on you. you stared into his eyes for a bit before moving away.

“i’m just going to ask you a few questions, is that okay with you?” he nodded, letting you continue.

“alright, how many fingers am i holding up?” you asked, holding up three fingers. he answered correctly and you moved on to the next question, “okay, does your head hurt?”

“uh, yeah, kinda, i guess.” he replied softly.

“and do you remember why it hurts?”

He flushed in embarrassment, looking away from you and at the other people in the room who still wore confused, yet worried expressions, “i fell off my chair.” he mumbled

“hey now, don’t be embarrassed, it happens to the best of us.” you said, patting his knee in reassurance before asking another question, “can you tell me your name? please?”

“uh, park sunghoon”

“great, now can you tell me his” you pointed at the boy who had picked up sunghoon’s chair, “name, please?”

he glanced over his shoulder at the boy before turning back to you, “jungwon.”

you smiled at him before glancing at the boy behind him who nodded at you, “alright, now i just need to know how you feel? are you dizzy? do you feel nauseous, like you need to vomit? or do you feel faint?” you asked, standing up from your crouched position.

“um, not really, no, no.”

you grinned at that, “okay~” you turned to the others in the room, giving them a reassuring smile as you spoke, “he doesn’t have a concussion so you guys can relax.” then you turned back to sunghoon, “i’ll just get you an ice pack for your head, yeah?”

“thank you.”

“no worries, i’m always happy to help. tell me if you get any of the symptoms i asked you about later on okay?” once you got a nod from him, you turned and walked out the door, followed by hye jin who had stood behind you in silent shock throughout the whole ordeal.

“how did you do that?” they asked as you closed the door behind both of you, you hummed, asking them to elaborate. “i mean, h-he just fell like bang and then you were there instantly checking on him while everyone was shocked and stuff. like how did you know how to check if he was concussed?”

“oh that,” you shrugged, smiling at them as you made your way to the freezer, pulling out a packet of peas before walking back to them, “i’m really clumsy.” you laughed.

leaving it at that as you walked back into the VIP room, handing the peas to sunghoon and pulling a notepad out of your pocket, “alrighty~ what can i get all of you today?” you asked, making eye contact with everyone at the table and giving them a professional smile.

taglist: @ja4hyvn @studioreader @angel-hyuckie @hwalllllllelujah @a-vian @msxflower @rielleluvs @kac-chowsballs @abdiitcryy @s2elf-z @giyyuzz @amakumos @ncthpen @xithecherie @fullsun9890 @hiqhkey @navsnct @enthusiastforniki @hoewithnojams @leeis @c9tnoos

couldn't tag: @uauznaixla

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[florencwrites]

ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

-

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

-

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

-

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

-

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.  

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.  

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.  

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.  

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.  

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.  

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?  

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

[laughingphoenixleader]

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word count: no idea

A/N: This is my first fanfiction that I’m posting out in the world! This takes place an hour or two after the end of Star Wars Rebels Season 2 Episode 7: Wings of the Master. I found a fanart when surfing the internet for Kanera content (as one does) a few months ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since! I don’t know whose work the art is but I’ll paste it on here! If anyone knows who it’s by, please let me know :) the art isn’t mine, but all of the writing is! Obviously, Kanan isn’t blind yet in this fic like he is in the fanart. I hope anyone who reads this likes it!! I’m hoping to post more fanfiction in the future—I have three others in the works already! I’m open to any and all feedback!

Hera rubs her temple as she steps out of the promotion briefing. Her head buzzes with new intel, and plans zip through her mind like starships. She is honored and ecstatic about her promotion to Phoenix Leader. At the same time, though, she can already feel the new responsibility settling onto her shoulders, all of the lives that will soon be placed under her supervision weighing on her. Hera can and will take on all of the privileges and authority her new position grants her, and she fully intends to own it, too. Still, her heart is heavy.

Truthfully, she’s still struggling with the losses they suffered on the first attempt to deliver supplies to Ibaar. Hera had been so determined to complete that mission, to find the right ship to make it possible, that the grief and sensation of failure hadn’t caught up with her. She had made sure of that. There wasn’t time to be crippled by guilt and loss when there was a mission to complete. Now that the mission was over, however, she can feel the effects of the losses setting in.

Thoughts swirl through her mind as she continues to head down the hallway towards the bay where the Ghost is docked.

If I had just let us turn back—if I hadn’t told everyone to keep going—maybe Phoenix Leader and the people on the transport would have survived.

She’d made the wrong call. Hera can still hear the panic-filled voice crying out, “Captain Syndulla!” as the transport—and the people inside—were blasted into a thousand pieces. She’d let her determination blind her, and lives had been lost because of it.

Guilt pours into her, paralyzing her. She stops walking in the middle of the empty hallway and steps into a nearby alcove to process it all. If I make a mistake like that again, the consequences will be worse now that I have more responsibility. What if I let everyone down?

Her churning vortex of thoughts and feelings is interrupted by a pair of strong, green-clad arms embracing her from behind, and a deep, warm voice comes from above her. “How’s it going, Captain?”

Pleasure surges through her lekku. His timing is perfect.

The pleasant surprise washes all of the guilt, fear, and sadness away, at least for now. Hera lets out a little “hey” of protest as Kanan Jarrus pulls her nearly off her feet, but an irrepressible smile spreads over her face. She closes her eyes and turns her face towards his, relishing the warmth emanating from him and the way his presence soothes her. Hera places her hands on the arms that envelop her, returning the embrace through a gentle squeeze.

“Better now, love,” she tells him. He releases her slightly so that her feet are fully on the ground and places his chin on her shoulder, still holding her close.

“And you usually hate PDAs.”

“If I’m not mistaken, there’s no one in this hallway.”

“What would you have done if there were?”

Hera is silent for a moment, eyes still closed. “Nothing differently.”

She can feel him grin. “Great,” he replies. “Because there’s someone walking by now.”

Hera’s eyes fly open and search the hallway—which is still empty. She elbows him. “Kanan!”

A deep laugh vibrates out of his chest. She rolls her eyes, but allows herself to settle back into his embrace.

“Really, though,” Kanan says gently, all traces of mirth disappearing. The care in his voice sends another ripple of affection through her lekku. “How are you? I could tell you needed this.”

“And you were right,” Hera admits as he guides them down onto the alcove’s bench, arms still entwined around her. Normally, she’d break away now to explain what she was feeling, the thought of fellow rebels walking by and being made uncomfortable by their display of affection present in her mind. This time, however, she isn’t ready to move away from him. Besides, this isn’t a heavily trafficked hallway anyway. She does move to the side rather than sitting on his lap, though, her shoulder overlapping his. “It’s those people we lost the first time we went to Ibaar to deliver the supplies,” she begins, her voice heavy with returning guilt. “They died because of me.”

Kanan lifts his head from her shoulder, his aquamarine eyes staring seriously into hers. “Hera, no.”

“They told me they were taking heavy fire,” she continues, her voice growing more and more agitated. “They lost their forward deflectors, and I still told them to keep going. I should’ve told them to turn back.” A sound of frustration escapes her throat. “Why am I so stubborn? Why are they putting more people under my leadership after my decision led to several deaths?”

“Hera,” Kanan’s voice cuts through her hysteria, rich and deep and sure. “Everyone here knows that any mission could be their last.”

“I know that,” she responds, voice still thrumming with anguish. “But that doesn’t mean lives should be thrown away just because of one person’s inability to retreat!” She breaks her gaze from his, shaking her head and staring down at the floor. “I don’t deserve that promotion.”

Kanan gently lifts her head so that her eyes meet his again. “No one trusting someone with authority expects them to be perfect,” Kanan reminds her. “Everyone here has made a wrong call, has failed to complete a mission—which you didn’t, by the way—but that doesn’t mean they’re a failure. You weren’t treating anyone like they were expendable—your optimism led you not to give up. You were determined to get those supplies to those in need and refused to give up hope.” Tones similar to those he uses when teaching Ezra a lesson color his voice, though with considerably less frustration. “The only way to rise above your mistakes is to accept the lessons they teach and apply them in the future. Letting your mistakes destroy your faith in yourself isn’t going to help anyone.”

Hera listens intently, his sincerity like a bacta patch on a wound.

“Sato could hear all of the comms between you and Phoenix Squadron, and he didn’t demote you or chastise you. Clearly, he doesn’t blame you for the lives that were lost.” Kanan squeezes her tighter reassuringly. “No one does.”

His voice becomes harder, more insistent. “And of course you deserve the promotion.” He sounds offended at the thought of anyone suggesting otherwise. “You didn’t volunteer to leave the mission—you were committed to seeing it through. But when I volunteered you for the mission to Shantipole, you dove in—literally—and headed straight into a world that no ship is supposed to be able to escape from—but you did. You’d only flown that B-wing once before joining the battle, but you flew it like it was built for you. You’re the reason those supplies did get to those people. When I recommended your promotion, Sato didn’t waste a second before agreeing with me.”

Kanan’s words replace her guilt and grief with a swelling of gratitude and comfort. Hera won’t forget those who had died today. She’ll be more careful to see when a situation requires a retreat, but she won’t let her confidence in herself die. “Thank you, Kanan,” she tells him, her heart full. He places his forehead against hers, and they share a rare moment of contentment and peace, enjoying each other’s presence.

Hera reluctantly breaks the silence after a minute or so, lifting her forehead from his.“We should probably get back home,” she tells the Jedi. “I liked that B-wing, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting the kids wreck the Ghost.” Kanan’s flash of disappointment is so endearing. She lifts his chin reassuringly.

“It’ll be all right, fearless leader.”

Kanan unravels his arms from around her, replying indignantly, “Hey, no, you’re officially the leader now.” They’d had the argument many times, each insisting that the other is the leader of their crew. Hera always tells him that “captain of the ship” and “leader” are two different things.

Now she rolls her eyes, smiling, but doesn’t correct him this time.

“I guess it’s about time we get back, anyway,” Kanan continues before she changes her mind and decides to refute him. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten something?”

Hera’s brows knit as she attempts to remember. “Yeah, too long,” Kanan’s suspicions seem to have been confirmed. “Come on.” He takes her hand and pulls her up, out of the alcove, and into the hallway. They share a comfortable silence all the way back to the Ghost, which Hera now realizes Kanan must have left to come find her. Even more affection for him to rises in her at the realization.

When the cockpit opens, the two release each others’ hands and are greeted by a rush of cheers and pumping fists. Even Chopper waves his grasping arms and spins around in celebration.

“Go Hera!” Ezra yells.

“About time you got promoted,” Zeb grins.

“Congratulations, Hera,” Sabine tells her earnestly.

“Mom got promoted! Mom got promoted!” Chopper chants triumphantly.

Hera chuckles, heart overflowing with fondness for her crew. “All right, all right,” she tells them. “You’re going to make the rest of the ship think that something’s wrong.”

“Who cares?” Ezra says as he pulls everyone into a group hug. “Hera cares,” Kanan replies, but he puts one arm around her and another around Sabine. The hug is a little awkward, with Zeb being so much taller than Ezra and Sabine and Chopper standing in the middle of the circle, but in that moment, the crew feels truly united.

“Okay, I can’t stand Zeb’s smell anymore,” Ezra quips, stepping out of the circle. Chopper rolls over and smacks him with a grasping arm.

“Ow! You always do that!” The blue-haired boy zips into the cargo hold, trying to get away from Chopper, who continues whacking him as he pursues.

The rest of the family shares exasperated smiles.

Kanan nudges Hera forward, dropping his arms from hers and Sabine’s shoulders.

“Lead the way, Captain Hera,” he tells her, that crooked smile of his setting the inside of Hera aglow. “We’re all behind you.”

[ggukkiedae]

Omg can we get a drabble or bulletpoint reaction of vmin dancing with yoonmi during her 18th that they celebrated & them reminiscing & kinda tearing up on how their aegi’s all grown up but yoonmi prolly be like “i’m always gonna be your aegi bc youll always be my oppa”

sure hun! i’m assuming you’ve read the start of the surprise on here, so enjoy for 95s fluff! 🥰 sorry it took so long though aksjdhf uni is driving me crazy 😭

reminder: italic conversations are spoken in english

TAGLIST: @sunflower-0180 @seaoffangirling @yourwonderbelle @1-800-enhypenbibi @kamiiyou @strwberrydinosaur @uraveragefangirlsposts @caratinylyfe @nctdream-minji @woopetals (message or send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist/s 🥰)

“Alright, hyung. My turn.”

Yoonmi turned her head and saw Taehyung approaching her. She looked up at Yoongi who sighed and placed her hand in Taehyung’s before pressing a kids on the too of her head. “Happy birthday, Princess.”

Before she could say anything, she found herself being pulled back to the center of the stage. A laugh escaped her as she went along with Taehyung’s dancing.

“You’re growing up,” Taehyung noted.

She smiled at him. “Yes, I am. I guess this means no more Disney marathons with sugar-induced comas?”

“Like you’d ever give that up,” he laughed. “Or us, either. That’s when you eat most.”

“That’s a lie!”

The two friends laughed before falling into step with each other once more. She let her head come forward to rest on his shoulder, slowing down from the excited and flamboyant spins and twirls they started with to steady sways.

“You know,” he began, “you don’t have to give up being a kid yet. There are still groups debuting with maknaes your age.”

She snorted. “You mean like Daehwi in AB6IX? Or the maknae in Baejin oppa’s new group?”

“Exactly!”

“Oppa,” she lifted her eyes to meet his, “I think I reached the peak of my maturity when I was nine. If you’re worried I’m going to turn into a washed out adult, then you have nothing to worry about.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. Thank you, aegi, I needed to hear that before someone else steals you.”

“No one’s going to steal me.” Just as she said that, a certain Park Jimin had pulled her to himself, greeting her with a smile. “I stand corrected.”

“My turn!” The elder of the 95s was practically bouncing in his shoes. “Sorry, Taehyung, but you took way too long already.”

Taehyung just laughed and walked back to the rest of the boys who were trying her cake. Once she turned back to Jimin, she found him already looking at her. It was as if he was trying to see into her mind with how focused he seemed to be.

“Oppa,” she poked his cheek, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I guess I just realized why dads would cry in those videos of 18th birthday parties that we searched up for ideas. I just got hit with the fact that you’re growing up. You’re going to be an adult by out standards in like two weeks!”

Right. The Korean age means she adds another number to her age as soon as new year hits. She’d be 20 in Korea within the next few weeks.

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“I knew you since you were twelve, of course it’s a big deal.” Jimin had looked down and stared at their feet while they danced. “You used to stand on my toes while we danced like this. Now, you’re in a dress and heels, perfectly dancing without my help.”

“Many things to point out here,” she laughed. “You chose my outfit, I don’t do dresses. You’re leading, which means you are technically helping me. Also, I’m heavy now!”

He scoffed at her. “Please, you’re as light as a feather. My little aegi needs some cake in her. Or am I not allowed to call you aegi now?”

The sudden solemn expression on his face tugged at her chest. Sure, Jimin would always joke around about how she was his Busan Baby since Jungkook took the title of Jimin’s Busan Boy. It never really occurred to her how seriously he took her nickname, especially since the only other person who called her aegi was the one and only Kim Taehyung who babies her arguably the most out of the boys.

“Oppa,” she gave him a reassuring smile, “don’t looks so sad. I know I’m going to be an adult soon, but I’m still your Busan Baby. And it’s not like you have to stop calling me aegi anytime soon. You are my oppa, and, since I���m your maknae, that still makes me your baby, doesn’t it? So don’t be all upset.”

Jimin just pulled her into a tight hug. “Fine. Only because my aegi says so. How about we get some cake in you?”

The smile she heard in his voice made her smile even wider. “Sure.”

[yakumtsaki]

Welcome, dear readers, to part 1 of the finale to the BackupKingdom2 saga! We’re in our final ambition now, let’s check how Liz’s post-divorce-bloodbath is going..

Oh yes, excellent. Our path to death-achievement-glory has been paved with so many executions that wherever I look I see npcs crying..

..comforting each other..

..and in Agnes' case, coming straight to Liz to.. ask for mercy for the populace I guess?? Bruh. I can't believe we even brought down AGNES, truly this is the saddest kingdom on earth. Amazing job, Liz, you've definitely earned your place in the tyrant hall of fame!

Now a lesser player would be like "oh, maybe we should chill a little on the insane tyrant thing, finish the Pirate/Noble arc cause we've been dragging this war out so the pirates/guildsmen would keep spawning and it should have ended like 20 quests ago" and true, we could just end it, we ran a very effective operation around here, shoutout to MVPs Donius and Bellinda and their 'seductive' legendary traits:

They bedded them and Liz beheaded them, the power of teamwork! So one could say that we should consider raising kingdom morale now because everyone is so depressed but I think, if anything, now is the time to ramp it up and go for some of the other morally questionable achievements! Like Machiavelli said, you should commit all your atrocities at once! What do you think, Liz? Ready to get atrocious?

-OH FUCK YEA, I’M ENRAGED, I DROPPED MY FIDDLE IN THE PIT AND NOW I HAVE TO WAIT FOR THE SERVANT TO GET ME A NEW ONE!! WHY DOES EVERYTHING ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME >:(

Aw I’m sorry Liz, but I’m sure you the upcoming suffering of your subjects will cheer you up!

-Ok motherfuckers, by order of the Crown aka ME -you hear that Rae?? ME, NOT YOU. God I want to execute you so bad, fucking ingrate, do you remember what rags you were wearing when I hired you??  

Let’s get this back on track, Liz.

-Right, so by order of the Crown, Magus Olivia and Spymaster Spainot are given COMPLETE LEGAL IMMUNITY to do whatever the fuck they want in the interest of earning achievements, so don’t you people come crying to me cause I don’t give one tiny chinchilla crap about your health and livelihoods. If you need me for something actually important, I'll be at the gates, executing anyone who doesn't like my fiddle playing.

-Oh man, this folksy peasant hat isn’t protecting my ears enough.

-THOUGHT I WOULDN’T HEAR YOUR LITTLE MURMUR, DID YOU  -YOUR MAJESTY NO I ONLY MEANT MY EARS WERE COLD -WELL ALL OF YOUR BODY’S ABOUT TO BE COLD NOW! CONSTABLE, THROW THIS PEASANT IN THE PIT

-Death marker? I hardly know 'er!

So the Constable npc has this little Billy Elliot subplot going, I'm pretty sure he has the 'drunkard' fatal flaw because he was always at the tavern so I had Bellinda try to hire him to perform in one of her plays just to see what would happen and it actually worked, and now he moonlights as an actor! It's cute but it also takes forever for him to come arrest people.

-THEY LOVE ME ❤️😁 -CONSTABLE WHATSYOURNAME, COME OVER HERE AND DO YOUR FUCKING JOB OR YOU'RE NEXT FOR THE PIT

-No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man, when someone dies😢

In the background you can see that Bellinda just got a pregnancy bump, it’s her lovechild with Donius, I for real can’t keep these two apart. Anyway, the time has come..

..to unleash Magus Olivia onto the populace.

-You know what, I'd rather not, this book is finally getting good and I'm sick of cursing peasants, it doesn't even drop their mood that much..

Oh no, Olivia my beloved, we're not cursing them, we're going for the 'Well Done' achievement!

-NO WAY.

WAY.

-Won't I be executed??

You have immunity! You can do whatever you want!! And, AND, once you complete it, because I know it's tiring, I'll give you a magic skeletal parrot as a gift!! Edward got all the materials for it while treasure-hunting, you'd think I'd let him keep it but that's not the kind of shop I'm running here.

-This is my face of pure, childlike happiness!

Good lord, it’s terrifying, please don’t look at me like that.

-Alright, time to roll down my sleeves so they look more sinister and do this thing.

You can do it, Olivia!

-Of course I can, save your reassurance for the flops that need it.

-I.. cast.. INFERNO!

...

-What?

I mean really, those are the words, "I cast inferno"? Can't you say something with more evil magical flair?

-Not when I have to cast it 80 fucking times I can't.

-IT BURNS, IT BURNSSSSS

Oh how the tables have turned, usually it's the witch that gets burned, huhu! Did you hear that, Olivia? Did you like my joke??

-Oh, it's beautiful!

Well it wasn't one of my best-

-Not you, you needy moron, the sight of burning flesh! I can't wait to do this 79 more times!

Alright, so everyone in the tavern has been turned into a chicken nugget, time to get some rest and check in with Spainot!

-Amazing news, Rodolfo, I just got royal permission to unlawfully lock up and interrogate whoever I want for the achievements!!!

-Darling, no offense, but aren't you a bit too shit at your job for that? -WHAT????

-FUCK YOU RODOLFO YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF MY SUCCESS -I WISH I WAS JEALOUS OF YOUR SUCCESS, THEN YOU'D BE SUCCESSFUL AND I WOULDN'T BE MARRIED TO A BROKE LOSER

-And then he says the only reason he hasn't dumped me is he doesn't wanna be a rando npc while Batshit Liz is on an execution spree, can you believe this bullshit? How can anyone be so hurtful??

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NO NO PLEASE DON'T HAVE THIS CHINCHILLA MAUL ME I'LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT

-How about you give me some marital advice, are you even listening?! Ugh.

That's right, while Olivia is inferno-ing the peasants, I've sicced Spainot on the nobility, specifically all those foreign diplomats that are always hanging in the reception hall, lagging up the place. We're going for the 100 interrogations achievement and we’ve installed a nice spiky torture chair right in the middle of the hall to save time! Now this is how we keep every stratum of society terrified enough to not realize that the person in charge is.. uh.. well you know:

-DANCE TO MY FIDDLE, PIRATE, DANCE!

-I AM!!!!!

-DANCE MORE ENTHUSIASTICALLY. ALL THE WAY TO THE PIT

After a couple days and several locations I feel we’re pretty close to 80 infernos!

I’d say we’ve burned a good 50-60% of the population at this point, everywhere I look I see singed townies-

-so we take this little barbecue to the palace because we’ve ran out of peasants and it’s time to start burning the foreign dignitaries. And it’s a good thing we do, because Olivia meets Nyrexis the Dragon!!!! 

Nyrexis is the human form of the dragon from a hilar quest where there’s a dragon in the kingdom and you can either befriend it or slay it, I had Bellinda befriend it:

So if you complete the befriend route of the quest, the human form of the dragon appears in town and is in love with whoever did the quest, in this case Bellinda. I am of course not about to waste Dragonfu on Bellinda’s basic ass, plus I feel Olivia is kind of a dragon with all the people she’s been burning so they have a lot in common! 

We dazzle Dragonfu with a coin trick! True magic at work.

-OMG IT WAS BEHIND MY EAR THE WHOLE TIME -I KNOW!

Good God, all of Olivia’s ‘happy’ expressions are terrifying, just don’t smile ever again, you’re too evil for it, you’re gonna scare the dragon away!

Or not!!!!

 AWWWWW 🐲❤️🔮

You know what, fuck it, let’s lock it down, when it’s right it’s right!

-Burn stuff with me forever?? -I WILL!!!!

-We are gathered here today, under threat of fiery death, to join two unholy abominations in holy matrimony. Yes, the irony is not lost on me. 

AW CONGRATS GUYS <3333 The wizard tower is so small and family un-friendly and Olivia is so unmaternal but come on, like I’m not gonna have her reproduce with a fucking dragon.

Back to Spainot, we’ve hit a slight bump, mainly that this Snordwich lord is proving fucking impossible to torture. 

-Um.. Are you enjoying this??? -Sure am, bad boy, but why don’t we take this somewhere more private already?

Wtf, stop sexually harassing the innocent person who’s torturing you! Does no one around here have any sense of humanity anymore??

-Come on, Spainot, throw some flesh-eating rodents at him! -I’M BUILDING UP TO IT, RAE, GAWD. No one likes a back-seat torturer!

-HA, who’s the loser now, Rodolfo? Rodolfo?? RODOLFO

Ya Spai I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure he left while you were interrogating, I haven’t seen him in like 3 days.

-WHAT. So Olivia completes one achievement and gets a dragon wife and a magic skeletal bird and I complete three and get dumped?!

Well what do you want from me, I don’t make the rules!

-YES YOU DO

Can we move on, please? And Olivia had a very rough go of it-

-she got burned in some rando quest and looked positively karma-stricken after, inferno-ing left and right while sporting this look! She deserves a magic bird!

Congrats on your success and 4 kids, Olivia! 

-I love this skeleton bird more than I thought it possible to ever love something.

-Gee, thanks mom. 

We had leftover bones so here, Spainot, you get a magic bird too.

-A bone parrot is little comfort when you’ve lost the only bone that matters! Why Rodolfo, whyyyyy!!!!!!!!!

Oh I don’t know, probably because you challenged him to duels 3 times a day?

-No, that can’t be it.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but you look like a man who has nothing to live for?

-Yea, I certainly don’t.

So you wouldn’t mind like, jumping into the pit multiple times so you can get the parts we need for the hardest achievement in game aka Legendary Doomsword?

-Rodolfo had one of those too, it was legendary and now that it’s gone I’m doomed!!!

Ok ya ENOUGH metaphors about Rodolfo’s absent penis, although they really are writing themselves. We’ll get him back! If you survive all the pit jumping that is. Join us next time for part 2: Legendary Doomsword!

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. I

The Royal Series Masterlist

I posted this series in 2018 but in late 2019, my blog got hacked and I lost all my work. This is me reposting the written chapters of The Royal Series after crying to my husband after I lost it along with all my writing on here. Enjoy. x

It had been long since you had let your hair down for a night.

You longed for a lowkey life, although you knew that the royal protocols you had been following since you were a child were far too embedded in you – yet, you knew how to have your fun.

You found fun in your trips to get milk and cheese yourself, in the strolls you went on in the early morning, when you attended a friend’s wedding, when your oldest brother wasn’t Prince William who was close in line, but a protective brother whom you teased for being old, when your ginger brother, Harry, patted you on the back and helped you with the plans that would make your grandma, the Queen, not necessarily pleased, when you danced with your best friend, and,

when you listened to music; which explained where you were that moment.

The arena was lit, some people who passed by you walking past you without a care, probably thinking that a princess in a Harry Styles concert in Los Angeles was too far-fetched, while others stood stunned.

In your defence, you looked unsuspicious in your black merch hoodie and black jeans, your best friend, Farrah – whom you met at university –, beside you in a casual attire as well, but the two bulky men walking behind you and close in black suits and wireless earbuds did little to conceal you.

Reaching your seats, you grinned at your best friend as you sat. From your peripheral, you saw your two private guards looking around, standing in the aisle beside Farrah’s seat.

“Hey,” you grabbed their attention, pointing with your thumb behind your back at the empty seats, “Would you please sit?”

“Your Highness w-”

"Please, it's a command. Sit here, enjoy the show." You told the two guards who intently looked at you before giving a reluctant nod.

In your balcony seat, your eyes then fell on the stage in anticipation.

"Your Highness," You heard someone beside you, making you look.

A brunet man, no older than 32, stood with a polite and kind smile.

You smiled. "Are you Jeffery?" He nodded, beginning to politely bow his head a tad. You offered your hand with a wide grin, "Thank you for giving me seats in such a short notice, I’m really sorry for any inconvenience."

"Oh no, it really is a pleasure, your Highness." Jeff tipped is head.

"Just Y/N." You smiled, glancing at the stage as the opening act were saying their goodbyes. "He's coming out now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he is. Have you been a fan for long?" Jeff asked as you both stood alongside each other, looking at the stage.

"Quite long actually. Since One Direction," You giggled, shrugging, "Always wanted to attend one of their concerts but only now have I been able to do so. Harry has a lovely voice. I have the album on a lot." You laughed, letting Jeff in on your secret, “But hey, keep that between us.” You joked.

Jeff chuckled, "Who would've guessed that the Princess of the United Kingdom is a Harry Styles fan?"

“Trust me, you’d be surprised.” Farrah said, joining in as the three of you laughed.

“I’ll be right there with the rest of the crew,” Jeff pointed at a different place where people from the crew stood, almost all of them looking at you. At you looking at them, they all turned in embarrassment which made you chuckle to yourself before looking at Jeff who had a bashful smile, “Sorry about that. It’s exciting.”

“It’s exciting for me, too.” You assured him.

“Well, please call me or have anyone to do so if you need anything, your H-” you gave him a look, “Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

The lights flickered off, your heart fluttering in excitement as you stood up, beginning to cheer with the fans.

The notes of Ever Since New York started playing before the lights were on, making you finally see the man you had flown out to see.

In a blue floral suit, Harry stood with his guitar before he began singing, Farrah recording you as you dramatically sang along.

With every song, you and Farrah let loose; dancing together and screaming the lyrics, vibing with Harry and his band. Hell, you caught one of your guards bob his head to Only Angel before his colleague swatted his arm.

It didn't take long for more people to notice the presence of the English Princess and her famous best friend, some phones and flashes being directed your way but experiencing the excitement and utter euphoria of it all, you chose to ignore the attention.

You were captivated to say the least by his performance, posting stories to your private Instagram account, isthataladybug, of a 102 follower.

You knew that he was a cheeky person who enjoyed a nice chat, so him walking around with his mic and talking to fans wasn’t of any surprise, yet, you didn’t predict him addressing you.

"I would just like to greet someone incredibly special here tonight," Harry said through the mic as he wandered on stage before looking your way, "Hi!" He grinned, waving at you. "All well?"

With a grin and flushed cheeks, you nodded and gave him thumbs up.

With a dimpled smile, Harry tipped his head and gave you a curtesy which sent everyone in a frenzy and you and Farrah to laugh.

Farrah nudged you, making you turn to look at her. "We're meeting him, right?"

You shrugged, "Jeff said we will. Said Harry would have his head if we didn’t.”

To say you were disappointed when Harry said his goodbyes after finishing the setlist would be an understatement, although the fact that you were meeting him seemed to brighten you up a tad.

Backstage was chaotic.

Everyone was running around, wanting to be on their best behaviours and look like it for when the Princess came in, every person telling the other that Jeff was on his way to get you and your best friend and that in just a few, they would be seeing the Princess of the United Kingdom in the flesh.

Harry was no better, pacing around the room, making sure he looked decent and collected. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to look at his band, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re not going to pass out in any second.” Sarah said sarcastically.

"Fuck, I'm so nervous." Harry laughed, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit trousers.

"So am I. Who would've thought that I'm going to meet the Princess of the United Kingdom? Someone better film this." Clare said before letting out a breath as the band stood in the dressing room.

"I-" Adam was cut off by a knock on the door.

They looked at each other with wide eyes before Harry cleared his throat, standing straighter. "Come in!"

Jeff came inside first, his figure hiding yours before he walked further inside and you and Farrah were then seen. The grin on your face was contagious.

Lined, with Harry at the end, you began to shake hands with the band.

"You were absolutely amazing!" You said as you shook their hands, one by one before reaching Harry.

Neither of you knew that the other was about to pass out from the nerves and excitement as you both smiled at each other.

"Thank you for the show. You're as good live as the studio version, if not better." You said.

Blushing at the comment, Harry softly shook your hand. "It's my honour, your Highness."

"Y/N," you corrected him, your hand still in his. "Just Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry repeated with a charming smile. "An honour, Y/N."

Being this close to him, you noticed how emerald Harry's eyes were. Raspberry pink lips and blushing cheeks, he was a sight for sore eyes.

It was cliché, anyone from the outside would say so, but have a 23-year-old Princess meet a 23-year-old artist whom she had been listening to for years and try not to make it cliché; hell, cliché or not, it was a meeting for the stories.

Farrah clearing her throat was what brought you out of your trance, making you remove your hand from Harry's.

"Well, we were actually going out for a drink if you want to join? Is that okay for you?" Sarah asked, “Oh my God, I just asked the Princess to grab a drink with us, I’m so sorry, your Highness.”

“Hey, no, no,” you quickly shook your head, “It’s fine,” you glanced at the guards and your best friend who gave you a nod, "I’d love to join if you’re all okay with Farrah and I joining. We wouldn’t want to interrupt any band-bonding time."

"Of course!" Harry grinned. "We're more than okay."

Telling you the lowkey bar – that served “amazing fries and boneless chicken wings” as Adam said – they were driving to, you exchanged “see you later’s” before you separated ways.

Right as you sat in the car, Farrah turned to face you, “What was that?”

In confusion, you looked at her, “What was what?”

“You and Harry fucking Styles! What was that?” She laughed excitedly, “Please make it happen.”

“Make what happen? You’re a lunatic!”

“You just pulled a Nicholas Sparks back there; ogling at each other, holding hands like yes, Mr. Darcy, I’d let you wed me.” She said dramatically, putting the back of her hand against her forehead.

“First of all, never do this again,” you cringed jokingly, “Second of all, what’s wrong with you? I have a conversation with a lad and suddenly I should get married to him?”

“He’s not just any lad, don’t discredit him like that.”

“Why don’t you go out with him then, Miss Farrah?” You teased her.

“Because I’m Muslim and it won’t work out, you know with our fa-”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t when I said you pulled a Nicholas Sparks.”

“I should’ve brought Emma instead of you.” You let out a sigh.

“Imagine if she could’ve joined though. It would’ve been Emma and I against you.” Farrah poked your arm.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Arriving at the bar, you and Farrah entered, finding that it wasn’t at all crowded but quite the opposite. Very few people were inside, all seeming to mind their business as they ate and drank, a jukebox playing music to add to the atmosphere of the place.

Among the people, your eyes fell on the band you were meeting, Harry instantly standing and waving at you with a grin.

They had left you seats, although you knew your guards were going to stand as your shadows.

Sitting on the opposite seat from Harry, you were seated beside Sarah, the “discreet” excited expression she gave to Mitch not going unnoticed but you only smiled to yourself instead of commenting.

“This was your second show, wasn’t it?” You asked, all of them nodding and replying with confirmation, “Any idea what this tour will have for you?”

“So many headaches,” Hélène replied in her French accent with a chuckle, “So, so many headaches.”

“Brighten up,” Clare nudged the photographer jokingly, “It’s only the second night.”

“I feel like this tour would be a milestone in all of our lives,” Adam replied, seeming to avoid eye contact with you before he looked at his bandmates, “Literally all of us.”

“A-Are you okay?” Farrah asked him, causing Adam’s posture to relax as he laughed.

“I just don’t know if I should look at you,” he said as he looked at you, “What if it’s disrespectful? Illegal?”

“Oh my God, no,” you laughed as you shook your head, “I’m sitting at a bar in Los Angeles with you, Adam, that’s not exactly a Trooping the Colour.”

“When we first heard you were attending,” Harry began, “We all just sort of,” his eyes widened before he laughed, “You know what?” He turned to look at Adam, “That’s a milestone right there.”

“You speak too highly of me,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, “What about all of you? That album, tonight, you should give yourself more credit.”

“Makes sense that people love you so much.” Mitch said with a small smile.

“Not everyone loves her, excuse you,” Farrah joked, raising her hand up.

“Ah, bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, “You love me the most.”

“No?”

“That’s denial.”

Conversations seemed to flow naturally among everyone at the table, laughter being heard as well as a few claps from how hard one of you would be laughing.

It wasn’t until you realised that you hadn’t drank anything that you stood up, “I’m going to grab something to drink. Does anyone want anything?”

A chorus of “thank you’s” was heard, you fully knowing that they probably hadn’t bothered to even ask you to get them anything because of your title.

“I’ll bring these fries and wings for all of us you told me about.” You pointed at Adam.

“I’ll join you.” Harry said, standing from his place and approaching you before the both of you walked towards the bar.

“Sorry if they make you uncomfortable.” You mumbled to Harry as you both sat on stools.

“Who?”

“Sid and Andrew, the guards,” you replied, “They’re the sweetest actually.” You smiled at the men who stood at a safe distance away from you but nearby, both of them tipping their heads at you before they began looking around.

“No, of course not,” Harry shook his head, “I thought you’d have more with you honestly.”

You waved off, “No, two are enough. Daddy wanted me to walk around with 6 but,” you laughed, “God, no.”

Harry smiled before his smile turned into a smirk, “Did you just say Daddy?”

“Ye-Gross, stop! That’s my father!” You groaned, stuffing your face in your hands as Harry laughed, “How old are you, Styles? 14?”

“And a half actually.”

“Ha, ha.” You tried to stifle your smile as you looked up at him, “It’s Mummy and Daddy for us, excuse you.”

“It’s cute.” Harry smiled timidly.

“It was until you commented.” You teased him, giving him a shrug.

“I apologise, your Highness. Please, don’t behead me.” Dramatically, Harry put a hand to his heart.

“I’ll think about it.” You put both hands on the counter gracefully, placing one above the other as you turned away from him before the both of you laughed.

Neither of you had noticed that you hadn’t ordered yet, only remembering when the bartender came over to take your order.

After ordering, you were both quiet, listening to the music that sounded in the place, you swaying slightly in your seat as you looked around.

"Are you not scared?"

You turned to look at Harry, “Excuse me?”

“Are you not scared?” He repeated.

"Of what?” You asked.

"Being seen in here. The rumours. I mean my rumours I can take care of but royal rumours?" Harry shrugged.

“Why? Are you scared?” The tiny smirk that was your lips were drawn into didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, feeling his lips lift into one of his own just at the sight of yours.

Harry took a moment to drink you up; the vibe you gave off was nothing he imagined. The dainty, soft princess he saw on the screen ever since he was young wasn't who sat in front of him.

In front of him was a confident woman, fearless and ready to seize whatever risk thrown at her. A woman who refused to have her identity shaped up and formed by her family and what the world was trying to limit her to, all for a title.

That's why with a thumping heart and an amused smile, Harry replied; "No, Princess. I'm not scared."

[rosemarycupcake42]

Hello hello everyone how are you?

My friends could tell this was coming a mile away-

So I got bored, I was angsty, so we have this beautiful piece of hurt comfort I believe?

Word count: 10k (otherwise known as 8k over the discord character limit)

Warnings: bad grammar, spelling errors, capitalization? Don’t know her, SADNESS, anxiety, talks of Rapunzel being a bitch to Varian

And no, we don’t like Rapunzel on this blog, not one bit

(Before we start, (Y/N) is your name, (N/N) is your nickname, and bold is memory Varian, italics are memory you

Coping Techniques

Varian 🧪 x reader

“Varian can’t calm his anxiety after getting back from getting kicked out of the castle, until he remembers something (Y/N) taught him, so he lets that memory guide him through calming himself.”

He was in pain. No, not physically, although it certainly felt like it, but emotionally. He felt like someone was tearing at his heart from the inside out, and he could do nothing to stop it. It hurt so bad, but he didn’t want to burden anyone else, so he just sat there, hugging himself, digging his nails into his arm, waiting for the pain he knew would never go away to leave him.

Deep down, under all of his blaming and hate towards Rapunzel, he thought it was his fault.

If he had just stopped messing with the rocks like his dad said…

He pulled his head up from between his knees and looked at his father, encased in honey colored amber, lifting his letter to the sky as if some other worldly being would reach down and take it from him.

His eyes tear up again, and he quickly hides his eyes behind his knees.

He doesn't want his father to see him crying, even if he is encased in amber.

He would be ashamed, And Varian can’t handle that thought.

He digs his nails further into his arms, and hisses when he feels them break skin and the blood seeps under his nails.

He vaguely remembers some calming techniques (Y/N) taught him for moments like these, and he struggles to remember one.

There was one that seemed to work well for him before, and so he decided to try that one.

He remembers your voice clearly, guiding him through the steps.

It’s okay Varian, just calm down, and take some deep breaths.

He takes a few calming breaths, following his memory of you.

Now Varian, tell me 5 things you can see in this room.

Don’t worry about what they are, just five things.

Do you want me to go first?

He subconsciously nods, just like he did back then.

He hears you giggle, and for a second, he’s already calm, before he glances at his father.

Well let me see..

I see a.. Current Varian starts counting. 1. Dust bunny in the corner over there.

2. Your spare set of goggles.

3. The book stack on the table.

4. Those vials with that green stuff in them. It's called Chromium (Y/N).. Yeah whatever nerd, let's just keep going!

5. And that plate with a half eaten ham sandwich on it.

Varian can hear the memory of you laugh again.

Wow Varian, i thought you were supposed to love ham sandwiches, you always just gobble them up!

(Y/N) stop it! I just wasn’t hungry.. Okay Grumpy pants, I was just joking with you!

Well.. what comes next? Huh? Oh yeah!

Varian slowly comes back to the real world, wishing you were with him right now to help him again.

He thinks about the other things you told him, and starts from the beginning

“F-five things i can see..” he stammers.

“One, my lamp. Two, that puddle by my table. Three, That beaker of silver. Four, my apron hanging off the hook over the door. Five, the spill of Orthovanadate that I never cleaned up.”

Good job Varian! The next one is four things you can feel around you.

Remind me again what we are doing this for again (Y/N)?

Well it's just in case i’m not there for you and you need to calm down!

You-

You are going to be there for me all the time right?

I’ll do my best darling.

P-Promise?

I can’t promise that Var, but i’ll do my absolute best!

Something really bad would have to happen for me to ever not be with you okay V?

Please don’t say that (N/N), that’s scary…

Sorry Var, but i'll do my best to be there whenever i can for you.

Thanks.

Anything for my little Alchemy boy.

Varian snaps back, flinching.

He chuckled, thinking about how ironic it was that he made you make so many promises back then, and yet the very reason he was remembering this was because of a promise.

Her promise.

His nails dig further into the already bleeding wounds, and he hisses.

He shakes his head rapidly, and begins counting things he can feel.

“O-one, My goggles on my head. Two, the wind blowing through the cracks in the house. Three, The melting snow in my boots and Four…”

He looks around, and hisses when the bruises on his wrists from the castle guards rubbing against the wall next to him.

“And four, these goddamn bruises from Rapunzel’s guards.”

(Y/N)?

Yeah Var?

Uhm..

Can I guess what comes next?

Hey that’s a good idea!

Okay.. so we did 5 things you can see..

4 things you can feel..

So I'm going to guess next is 3 things you can hear?

Haha! You got it right Var!

I knew you were smart, dummy.

HEY-

Where’s your sense of humor darling?

I- i uh-

Under the bed.

Oh really then?

WAIT NO I DIDN’T-

HAHAH!!

Okay okay let's get on with it.

Three things you can hear. It will probably help if you shut your eyes to focus on sounds.

Okay.

Varian laughs, and then takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes.

“One… Chemicals bubbling, Two.. The wind rattling the doors hinges, trying to get in.

Three, Ruddiger pacing the floor.”

At the mention of his name, the raccoon bounds over to Varian, right as he opens his eyes, just in time to see a gray and white furball come tumbling into his arms.

Varian looks down at him, and gently cradles him to his chest.

“Oh Ruddiger, What do I do?” Varian sighs, and then laughs when he thinks about you calling him a “crazy raccoon boy”.

Varian? Are you-

Are you talking to Ruddiger?!

I KNEW IT!

Knew what?

I knew that you locking yourself alone in the basement with only Ruddiger and alchemy to keep you company would drive you crazy, but not THIS crazy!

Oh but (N/N), werent you talking to Ruddiger last night?~

Who- who told you that?

Ruddiger did~

RUDDIGER I THOUGHT WE PROMISED TO KEEP THAT TO OURSELVES-

I’m kidding!

but were you really talking to Ruddiger??

You're more crazy than I am!

Whatever, my Crazy raccoon boy.

(Y/N)!-

Ruddiger looks up at Varian, who has a sad smile, and chitters.

Varian shakes his head, and continues the calming method.

Can the smart boy guess what comes next?

Two things I can taste?

BZZZRT- WRONG!

Two things you can smell, then..

One thing I can taste?

Correct!

He takes a deep breath, and sniffs the air.

“One, I can smell chemicals, specifically sulfur, and Two, I can smell the- the blood from my nail marks.” Varian can feel himself getting dizzy at the smell of the last one, but he smacks himself and tries to avoid looking at his arms.

One more Var, okay? Try to remember all these, you never know when you might need them!

Can we go outside after this?

(He can remember you gasping at his comment) Why Varian? Did YOU just suggest going OUTSIDE?

Who are you, and what did you do to Varian?

I-ITS NOTHING!

I just figured you'd like to go outside instead of stay cooped up in here with me all the time…

Aww, how sweet Varian, but if you aren't comfortable going outside with me, I'll gladly stay here with you!

He smiles at your past consideration, and concentrates.

“One thing i can taste..” His eyes fly open.

“Ham Sandwiches!”

He takes a deep breath, and it's finally done.

He silently thanks you for the method, and thanks the gods that it worked.

Now that he thinks about it, he hadn't heard from you since the blizzard..

He really hoped you were okay..

He knows the blizzard is really bad, he did come back from asking Rapunzel for help…

Rapunzel…

She refused to help..

It’s her fault!

He shakes his head, knowing (Y/N) would hate to hear him thinking like that.

Speaking of (Y/N)..

His head jerks up when he hears the door upstairs open and wind blowing heavily.

He listens closely, and he can hear you calling his name while you struggle to get the door closed.

He jumps up and runs up the stairs, practically dropping Ruddiger and face planting.

He looks up from the floor, and gasps.

There you are, decked out in heavy insulated fur coats, there was snow all over you, he could barely even see the beautiful color of your hair.

Your lips were turning blue-

He shakes his head, banging it on the floor a couple times, why was he even looking at your lips?!

You looked down, and gasped as well.

“Varian? Why are you on the floor dear?” He sighs happily when he hears your voice, and opens his mouth to answer.

“You know what, don't answer that, come on, i'll help you up.” You walk over to him, gently grabbing his arms, and he hisses when you grab right where the nail marks are, and your hands brush the bruises on his wrist.

You set him gently in front of the fireplace, and grab his arms.

“Did you cut yourself with your nails again? I told you that you need to cut them..” you sigh, going to grab the things you need to clean his wounds and help with the bruising.

“How did you get these bruises?!” you ask, gently holding his wrists.

He responds, “Well I tried to get help from Rapunzel about my dad, but she wouldn't listen, and the guards dragged me away. By the way, (Y/N), thank you for that 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 method.” He weakly smiles, hoping that would calm you down, being able to see you get visibly angry the more he said about Rapunzel and her guards.

You sigh heavily, telling yourself Varian needed you more than you needed to beat up those guards. “I'm glad it helped dear.”

You bandaged his little crescent shaped wounds, and gently grabbed his wrist.

He looks at you in confusion, and you falter, before going along with your plan, and pull his wrists to your lips, and give them a gentle kiss.

You give him a closed eyes smile and respond to his surprised look, “Doesn't everyone say a kiss makes things better?”

He blushes, and pulls you into him, both of you tumbling to the floor before stopping.

You snuggle into his chest, mumbling something.

He looks down, still blushing. “What was that (N/N)?”

You back your head enough to speak cleary, and repeat yourself. “I need to beat up those gaurds later.”

He snickers, nodding, and wraps his arms tighter around you, ignoring his embarrassment, and more importantly, ignoring his pain.

You also wrap your arms around Varian, and after a couple minutes, he’s snoring.

You look at him, and run your fingers through his hair.

“Ill always be there for you Varian, Rapunzel be damned.” you nod off, both of you calmly sleeping, and dreaming of ways to save his father, his dreams much more sinister than yours, but both never once leaving each other sides.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Interview with the Mandalorian

Pairing: Mandalorian x Female Reader

Rating: T (future parts will be Mature/Explicit)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of prior violence against the reader (not described in detail)

Summary: The Mandalorian has placed a want ad for childcare and you decide to answer it. Despite having a questionable past, he decides to hire you.

Word Count: ~5400

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter in a multi-part story of Mando and childcare reader. I love romance so expect lots of fluff, but there will also be some humor, action, and angst, and eventually smut. I’m going for more of a slow burn here -- or at least trying to if I don’t get too impatient.

Link to Chpt. 2

Gif by @bestintheparsec (Thank you! You're awesome 😁)

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Wanted: Childcare Professional

Caregiver needed for toddler for all basic baby needs. Single father with demanding job, odd hours. Position requires living on starship. Looking for someone not squeamish and good in a crisis. Preferred skills: cooking, pre-school teaching, and first aid. Bonus skills: combat training or ability to repair pre-Imperial tech. Interviews at Cantina Manolita, ask for the Mandalorian.

You re-read the want ad as you headed out to the cantina. It started out normal enough, not squeamish was a little odd, yet understandable, but then, good in a crisis and combat training as a bonus skill? Exactly what type of toddler does this Mandalorian have? Still, it’s not like you can afford to be picky, what with your past. You’d been bouncing around from odd job to odd job, each one more terrible than the last. Your most recent job had been cleaning rooms at a very seedy no-tell hotel and after that, you’d rather change 1000 poopy diapers than go back there. Despite your education and years of experience, no one wants to hire someone with the stain of the Empire on their resume. Your only hope is that the Mandalorian who placed this ad will be willing to hear you out and with a bit of luck you won’t have too much competition for the job. Many people are wary of Mandalorians, so perhaps that will keep the candidate pool small. You’re secretly intrigued by the idea of working for one, as all you really know is that they are respected warriors who either stick together in tight groups with other Mandalorians or they work alone. You wonder why this Mandalorian is seeking outside help, must be a special circumstance.

Din watches as a woman in a short red cocktail dress, platform heels, and quite a lot of makeup saunters through the cantina. It’s a lot of look for mid-morning and he’s surprised when she heads straight to his table, leans down to give him a generous view of her cleavage, and coos at him, “You must be the Mando who placed the ad.”

“The ad for childcare? Yes.” Din emphasizes the word to be certain she’s answering the correct posting.

“Yep! That’s why I’m here, baby.” She winks at him and plops herself down in his booth, ignoring the chair placed directly across from him. Baby? He’s a bit taken aback, but he figures he should at least ask her some questions about the job.

“Do you have any experience caring for children?” He begins.

“Well, not exactly for children, but I am very, very caring. I’m sure I can take really good care of you… both.” She flutters her eyelashes at Din.

“So, if you don’t have any experience, why are interested in this job?” He feels like this is a fair question, especially since he was hoping to find someone more knowledgeable than he is when it comes to younglings.

“I just have so much love and I want to share it. Especially for someone who needs me, hot stuff.” The woman has been sliding closer to Din as she speaks. He tries to move away from her to keep some space between them, but with the child napping on the end of the booth next to him, he really has nowhere to go.

“Uh, ok, do you have any experience with teaching?” This interview is not off to a good start, but what if she’s the only one who shows up?

“Oh, I’m a real good teacher,” the woman replies, and then drops her hand onto his thigh just above the beskar plate and gives it a squeeze, “I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” she says suggestively.

“We’re done here. I need childcare, not, whatever it is you’re offering.” Din lifts her hand off his leg abruptly, scoops up the child, and quickly moves himself across the cantina to another table. Who shows up to a childcare interview to hit on the father? He’s annoyed at her for wasting his time. He sees the woman pouting and then watches as she gets up with a little stumble, calls out, “Your loss” in his direction and heads to the bar. Under the helmet he rolls his eyes; the next person has to be better than her.

Din has become increasing fatigued and desperate for some help as he takes care of his foundling and searches for information on the Jedi. That alone would be plenty to keep him occupied, but he’s still hunting down bounties too in order to keep them in credits for all the fuel they’re burning up as they traverse the galaxy. Although he’s been able to keep the kid with him all the time so far, it’s not easy to hunt with a baby along for the ride, and he wishes he had someone he could trust to stay with the little one on the ship, keeping him safe and hidden away. After all, they’re still on the run from the ex-Imps and other hunters. Oh, and not to mention, Din is still dodging New Republic officers for that mess on the prison ship. No wonder he’s exhausted.

Sighing lightly, he reminds himself that he’s going to find the help he needs today when he sees a young woman, much more conservatively dressed, giving him furtive glances across the cantina. Din gives her a little nod, and she makes her way over to the table, but she barely takes her eyes off the ground as she does so.

“Are you interested in the childcare job?” Din asks, hopefully.

“Y-yes, I’m h-here to interview.” She seems extremely nervous and can’t seem to bring herself to look at his visor for more than a moment. “I l-like children, um, I have done, um, a lot of b-babysitting.”

“That’s good,” Din says softly, trying to put her at ease, “Can you tell me more about what you did as a babysitter?”

Looking down at the table, she replies shakily, “W-watching them, um oh, I don’t know, uh playing games, making snacks, um just, um, helping, I guess?”

Maker, she’s so uncomfortable, Din wonders what he can say to help her calm down or if it’s worth it to continue the interview. How is she going to handle their situation, if she’s this nervous at the interview? Before he can think of anything to say, the baby pops his head up suddenly to investigate what’s going on, startling the poor woman so badly she jumps up from her chair.

“Aah!” She lets out a little cry and then stammers, “I-I- I think this was a bad idea. I c- can’t do this.” and runs off.

Din sighs; maybe the third time will be the charm, isn’t that what they say?

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll find someone.” He says to the child’s inquisitive expression.

Din has the feeling of being watched and turns to see a well-dressed man hovering near the cantina’s entrance. He seems to be in his mid-fifties, with sort-of a schoolteacher aura about him, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased to see Din. The man stares at him for a moment over a pair of owlish spectacles as if assessing the situation and then finally approaches Din’s table.

“I am here to interview for the childcare position, but I want to be very clear that I am an experienced and sought-after professional.” The man declares to Din in a stern voice.

“I’m looking for a childcare professional, please sit down.” At least this one is experienced and looks like he understands the position.

“I must tell you I am a strict believer in order and discipline when it comes to children, and I do not abide any shenanigans.” The way this man speaks makes Din feel like he’s back in school and he’s been caught doing something naughty.

Din clears his throat, “Perhaps you can tell me about your experience.” The man rattles off a list of schools and families where he has worked; stressing certain names as if Din should be impressed, which perhaps he would if he recognized any of them. Din doesn’t care for the fact that this man keeps emphasizing words like prominent or respected as he speaks of his past, it sounds haughty and snobbish. This guy may have a lot of experience, but his frosty demeanor is off-putting. Still, Din can’t deny that he’s the best candidate so far.

“How do you feel about living on a starship?” Din asks him.

“If the ship is in good working order and the facilities are well maintained, I am sure it will be adequate.” He says the last word as if adequate means appalling, indicating that Din’s home is not an ideal living situation. Din feels his optimism dwindle yet again, as this fussy man will likely turn his nose up at the Razor Crest before he even has a look inside.

“What is that?” The man asks brusquely. Din follows his line of sight and realizes the child has climbed up on his chair again wanting to be a part of the conversation. The man’s tone of voice is irritating, but Din restrains himself as he says, “That is the child.”

“That thing is your child?” He has a look of mild disgust on his face. Suddenly this man’s illustrious qualifications don’t matter to Din at all.

“Thank you for coming, but I don’t believe you’re suited for this position.” Din tells the man, trying to match his haughty tone from before. The man lets out a little ‘hmpf’ but then gets up and leaves the table.

“I’m sorry, kid, I know he was bad.” Din sighs again, “We’ll keep trying.” He despairs that he’s in for a full day of bad meetings, when he glances across the cantina to see a beautiful woman looking in his direction. He gives her a nod in greeting, but he’s afraid to hope that she might actually be here for him. However, she smiles warmly at him and starts towards their table. He feels his heart skip a beat; damn, she’s pretty. He watches her as she moves confidently through the crowd noting that she appears courteous to the others around her and Din thinks maybe his luck is turning.

“Good morning! Are you the Mandalorian who placed the want ad for childcare?” You ask with what you hope is a winning smile on your face.

“Ah, yes, I am. Are you here to interview?” Din feels a surge of optimism; you seem composed and he already likes you much better than the other people he’s spoken to today.

“Yes, I hope you haven’t filled the position yet?” you ask him.

“No, not yet. Please sit down.” He gestures to the open chair across from him. “Can you tell me a little about yourself and why you’re interested in the job?”

You start to introduce yourself expressing a keen interest in children and briefly mention your training and experience as a teacher, when you notice two little green hands gripping the edge of the table next to the Mandalorian. Slowly a small green head covered in soft white peach fuzz lifts up to reveal two shining dark eyes and a pair of giant pointy ears.

“Oh my goodness,” you breathe out in delight, “aren’t you the most adorable child in all the galaxy?” You cannot control yourself from fussing over this little one. You really are a pushover for cute kids, but this one is beyond precious. The child smiles at your words and lets out a happy cooing sound. Totally entranced, you make goofy smiley faces back at him causing him to giggle while you completely forget that you are supposed to be doing an interview right now.

Din watches your face as it transforms itself from an expression of polite professional interest to a look of absolute adoration. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at the child, your smile is positively beaming, and you’ve clasped your hands together at your chest in utter delight. It’s like watching someone fall in love all in one instance. He feels that he could ask you to do anything for the child and you would. He reaches over and picks up the little one drawing your attention back to himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just, he’s so cute, um, what was I saying?” You quickly turn your head back to look at the Mandalorian, trying to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be impressing him with your childcare skills not going ga-ga over his son.

“It’s ok, he is cute.” Din responds amiably, this interview is already off to a better start than the others. You seem like a genuine person to him, someone who makes friends easily, who would be pleasant to have around. “You were telling me about your teaching experience.”

“Yes, yes, so my most applicable experience is my time as a pre-school assistant teacher. I worked there when I was earning my degree in Linguistics and Language Teaching at the main university on Riosa. I always loved that job so much and have really wanted to work with children again.” Oops, first mistake, mentioning Riosa is risky, he has to know of the Empire’s former presence there.

“So did you work with many toddlers at the pre-school?”

“Oh yes, so many toddlers. I’m very good at keeping them entertained with games and stories. I know how to set limits and help them learn about rules. Oh, and I also know how to make many snacks and meals that little children love.”

“He does seem to always want to eat, so that would be helpful.” The Mandalorian chuckles a little at that and gives the child a pat on his head.

“I also understand that children can be messy and I’m really good at cleaning and doing laundry too.” You try to think of what else you can say to show that you’re a good option for him. But before you can, he changes the topic.

“So Linguistics? That’s an impressive choice of studies.” He nods his head as if he approves.

“Thank you, I specialized in language structure and syntax. I speak Rodian, Naboo, Sy Bisti, and some Ubese too.” You hope you don’t sound like you’re bragging but none of your recent employers have been interested in your language skills in the slightest. It’s nice to hear that he thinks it’s notable and you do want to impress him if you can.

“Also impressive. All languages of commerce or politics. That’s very practical.” Again, he sounds like he values these skills. “But you don’t have a career in linguistics now? I would think someone with that background wouldn’t be interested in taking care of a toddler.”

“I truly do love children, and well, things don’t always go as you plan, do they?” You were really hoping to answer more questions about childcare or first aid or really anything else, but it looks like you’re going to have to get to the touchy part of the interview. The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to explain.

“When I finished my degree, I was invited to join a prestigious research group. I thought it was an incredible opportunity, a chance to work with professors and other academics. I had to take several difficult qualifying exams before they even offered me the position, and when I did so well on them, everyone I knew was very impressed. I really thought I was going to do something fantastic. I found out too late that the research group was just a front and really it was part of Imperial Intelligence. I had been living in my happy academic bubble, I knew the Empire was on Riosa but they never paid any attention to the university, and I was too naïve to realize I had been recruited to be a code-breaker.”

You pause there, internally cringing again at your stupidity, and wondering if you should continue or if he is going to end the interview right now. While he’s sitting more rigidly than before, he gives no indication that he wants you to stop, so you decide to plow ahead with your story.

“For a while, I tried to be terrible at the job, pretending that I couldn’t break the codes, that they were too complex for me. I hoped they would think they made a mistake and let me leave, but they saw through the ruse. They punished me, and I knew I had to start doing better or they would likely kill me. So I did what I was told, but only about a third of the time. The rest of the time, I would purposely leave out crucial information from the messages I broke. Or sometimes I would just change it completely. I tried to be strategic and do it without a pattern so they wouldn’t catch on to what I was doing. Eventually though one of the other code-breakers figured out my secret and he turned me in.”

You pause again at the memory of that betrayal. You had thought that Kerrick cared for you. You quickly look up to avoid any tears springing to your eyes and take a calming breath.

“What happened next?” The Mandalorian asks you.

“I was punished again, more severely than the first time. I suppose I was fortunate though, because they deemed I was too valuable an asset to terminate. They didn’t send me back to code-breaking. Instead, they forced me to teach Sy Bisti to a class of officers. It’s one of the languages their droids couldn’t translate. I didn’t try to make trouble again. I didn’t think they would give me a third chance.”

Din watches you carefully as you tell him of your experience with the Imperials. The expression on your face and the way your shoulders have slumped tell him that you’re ashamed of what happened to you. That you feel responsible and likely blame yourself for having been tricked by them. Din doesn’t see it that way though. From his perspective, you were simply a young woman who was manipulated and then abused by a corrupt system.

“Can you start today?” You snap your head up in surprise.

“What? I- I mean yes, I can, but-” you stumble over your words, “You- you want to hire me?”

“Yes. The child likes you and you’re the best person for the job.” He’s very straightforward about it.

“You’re sure? Even with the Empire stuff?” Your words sound lame to your own ears, but you need to be certain he won’t hold it against you.

He gives you a brisk nod. “You were brave to try to sabotage their intelligence, but also not too much of a fool to get yourself killed.” He’s blunt but his words are a comfort to you in a way.

That seems to be all he is going to say on the matter, as next he tells you about the living conditions on his ship. He explains carefully about his creed and the fact that you can never see him without his helmet. That isn’t a surprise though as it’s one of the only other facts you already knew about the Mandalorians. Besides, after spending time with so many helmeted Imps, it honestly doesn’t seem that odd to you. At least you’ll know this helmet doesn’t plan to kill you. You arrange to meet him in a couple hours at his ship after you’ve had a chance to pack your things. You’re so elated to find someone who wants to hire you for a decent job and who doesn’t loathe you for your past that you completely forget to ask him about the need for combat training.

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As you’re packing up your meagre belongings it occurs to you that you didn’t ask him anything about himself or really much about the child at all. You realize you don’t even know their names. Maybe you should slow down and find out more about this Mandalorian and his son, but honestly you’re willing to take the risk. You’re sick of this awful city and the terrible jobs you’ve been forced to take here. At least you know that the Mandalorians were enemies of the Empire, so that’s a bonus in your eyes. Besides from the job description in the ad, it seems like this Mandalorian has to be at work a lot so you’ll probably be alone with the child most of the time. You’ve never seen a species like the child before, but you’re willing to learn all about him so you can be successful at this job. You gather up your bags, leave a few credits for the landlord, and head to the hanger, enthusiastic about a new life.

Din is watching as crates of supplies are loaded onto the Razor Crest, and he thinks about his new hire. From the moment he saw your reaction to the kid, he knew he was going to offer you the job. His only concern is his own attraction to you, and, he has a little nagging guilt that he didn’t explain anything to you about the dangerous aspects of the job. If you knew the Imps were after the child, would you still be willing to take the job? Din knows he’ll have to tell you about that, but maybe he’ll wait until the Crest is in hyperspace before he does. Yeah, it’s underhanded, but he doesn’t have the time or the patience, quite frankly, to try to find other childcare. Plus, there’s a good chance your knowledge of the Empire will be helpful to him. Din hopes you won’t hate him too much for withholding information. He sees you enter the hanger, and once again you smile when you see him. Din’s pleased that you don’t seem intimidated or fearful. So many people look at him with trepidation or dislike, and although he’s learned to ignore it, when someone actually smiles at him, it’s such a pleasant change. Besides, you have a pretty smile.

“Hello again!” You call out to the Mandalorian, as you make your way towards him. Seeing him standing next to his ship, you’re suddenly struck by what an imposing figure he is in all that armor. He’s quite tall and obviously very strong. A whisper of an emotion runs through you, almost like desire, but it’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like that you can’t really place it. You forget all about it though when the little green toddler spies you and immediately runs right for you with a happy face. You drop your bags and crouch down, holding your arms out to him and scoop him up when he reaches you.

“Hello, buddy! Are you excited to have a new nanny? I’m excited to be here.” You tell him cheerfully as you give him a hug. You stand up again to address the Mandalorian, who’s come over to help with your bags. “I’m sorry, I was so happy to get the job earlier, I completely forgot to ask the child’s name.”

“That’s ok.” He tells you. “I don’t, um, I don’t actually know his name.”

“Beg your pardon?” He doesn’t know his son’s name. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t help but give him an odd look.

“He’s a foundling. I rescued him.” The Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate. You remind yourself that you don’t know much about Mandalorian culture, so maybe that is typical for them. He hasn’t told you his name either.

“Well, what do you call him?” You look down at the little one in your arms.

He shrugs as if it isn’t important, “Kid, pal, womp rat,” he supplies, and in anticipation of your next question he says, “You can call me Mando.”

“Alright.” So, no names then, that’s different, but whatever works for him.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” Mando offers picking up your bags.

“Oh, you don’t have to carry those, I can get them.” He just gestures with his helmet for you to go ahead, so you head up the ramp into your new home.

The child babbles to you as if explaining things as you look around the hull of the spacecraft. It’s very utilitarian, but you figured it would be, Mandalorians don’t strike you as the types to think of creature comforts as a priority. The little one babbles at you again and extends an arm towards a section of the hull where you can see what looks like a mattress covered with a blanket and pillows that look new and unused. The Mandalorian comes up behind you and says, “Like I said before there’s only one bunk in the ship, but I thought this would work for you?” He sets your bags down next to the bed.

“This will be fine.” You’ve slept in much worse places, your cell in the Imperial Intelligence compound springs to mind. In any case, it’s nice to know that he’s thought to provide this for you. Other employers you’ve had would probably just make you sleep on the floor.

Din takes you on a brief tour of the ship, mostly making sure you know where the essentials are. He keeps waiting for you to make a comment about the ship’s age or make a joke about it being a clunker like everyone else does. But you surprise him, as you simply take it all in with a pleasant expression on your face. Although when he gets to the weapons locker, he sees your eyes widen in surprise. He realizes that he hasn’t told you what he does for a living, “I’m a bounty hunter, and weapons are part of my religion.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it makes sense you’d have a cache like this then.” You give him a nod, as if to say this seems completely normal, even though you’ve never seen so many weapons outside of a military facility. However, if it’s part of his religion the last you thing you want to do is insult him about it.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Mando inquires.

“Yes, I do. I had to take a course on marksmanship at the university.” You wince again at your innocence back then. A college that requires a course on shooting? No wonder it had been a recruitment ground for the Empire.

“Did you pass?” Mando wants to know.

“With high marks,” you reply, ever the top-notch student.

“Good. Do you have a blaster?”

“Uh no.”

Mando turns back to the locker and considers it before choosing one of the smaller guns in there. He hands it to you saying, “Here, this one should be good for you. But let me know if you think something else would be better suited for you.”

“You think I’m going to need a blaster to care for the child?” You try to keep from sounding incredulous as you stare down at the gun that he’s placed in your hand and then back at the sweet toddler who’s currently propped up against your hip.

“No, of course not, but you’ll need to be prepared when we’re off the ship.” He seems very matter-of-fact about it.

“Prepared for what?” Where does this man plan on taking you?

“Just, prepared.” Is all he says in response.

The baby makes grabby hands towards the blaster and you carefully hold it away from him. “Can I keep it in the locker for now?” you ask feeling a little uneasy. You might know how to shoot, but you’ve only ever aimed at targets in a shooting range and the idea of having to use a blaster for protection is frankly terrifying. What have I gotten myself into? Will I never learn?

“Yes, just remember to take it with you whenever you leave the ship.” Din stows the blaster away again and then says, “We should get going now,” and motions for you to head up the ladder to the cockpit. He probably should have waited to give you the blaster until later. He can see the questions and the anxiety in your eyes and he knows he’s going to have to come clean about the danger he’s putting you in. But sticking to his plan, Din says nothing and focuses on taking off and setting coordinates to Dantooine, the last known position of his next quarry.

You try to stay focused on the child in your arms, but you can’t keep yourself from staring back at Mando. The need for a blaster has brought your original question back to the forefront of your mind, and although it’s pretty much too late to ask now, you figure you should.

“So in your ad, you said, combat training was a plus. Why exactly did you put that in there?”  

You watch as he puts the ship into hyperspace, before he turns to you. You’re just starting at the black visor in his helmet, waiting for him to speak, when he finally says, “There are Imps after the kid.”

“Excuse me, what?” You hope you heard him wrong.

“I rescued the child from some ex-Imperials. They have a bounty out on him.” Din decides to leave out the part where he originally collected on that bounty, delivering the child right to them. He’s doesn’t want you to despise him so he figures he’ll keep that part of the story to himself.

“What do they want with him?” You’re still holding the little one tight, and you look down into his big, dark eyes and wonder what those terrible people could possible want from this adorable child.

“He has some kind of powers, like uh, like a sorcerer, or something.” He tells you sheepishly.

“Like a sorcerer?” You repeat, o-kay.

“I know it sounds strange. But, have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“Oh, yes, I know a little about the Jedi. Wait, can the child use the force?”

“You know about the Jedi?” He seems excited to hear that. “What do you know? Do you know any of them?”

“I know the Jedi were once an order of knights and they had the ability to wield the force. Have you ever heard New Republic people say ‘May the force be with you’?” That phrase has been everywhere, so you feel like he must have heard it.

“Yeah, but I really have no idea what they mean by it.” Din feels a little embarrassed to finally admit that to someone. He hopes you don’t think him dumb for not knowing.

“From what I understand the force is like this invisible energy that lets the Jedi manipulate things with their minds. The phrase is meant to give you hope, sort of ‘May the positive energy be with you and bring you good things’. It’s a bit ironic though because for such an optimistic phrase it’s actually how Imperial Intelligence successfully broke several Rebel codes since they put it at the end of so many messages.” As much as your viewpoints aligned with the Rebellion, you had wished someone in their command had been intelligent enough to realize that you shouldn’t put a known saying into your coded messages. You look over to Mando and he gives you a nod in response, so you continue.

“I also know there were some Imperial commanders, very high up, who were pretty obsessed with the Jedi. They were always looking for any information about them. They thought there was a Jedi working with the Rebellion and any messages we decoded about him were supposed to be flagged as extreme priority. But, I never saw anything about him. So, that’s all I know.”

“That’s the most anyone has been able to tell me so far, so it’s very helpful.” Mando replies. He’s silent again for a bit and he seems to be looking down at the child. “It is my task to bring the child to the Jedi, he’s one of their kind. I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. He- He’s special.”

Looking down at the little toddler in your arms, you remember how the Imperials treated you, and the years of damage, fear, and violence that they rained throughout the galaxy. You can’t possibly let them get their hands on this innocent one. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” you tell the child. And then you look at Mando, “I promise.”

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