#also hunter was still wet so they turned out shiny

[cordycepsbian]

we see mustelid-based slugcats a lot and we like mustelids as much as the next guy but we think it makes more sense for slugcats to be based on a feliform mammal. so here's our million dollar idea: mongoose slugcats

[faytelumos]

Writeblr ROYGBIV

Rules: Find each of the ROYGBIV colors in your WIP.

Red:

It was still light out, and the rain had let up significantly. [Syfreth] took me to the tree line south of the village, and there seemed to already be some things there. I hesitated for a moment when [my friend's] parents looked up at me. They were both there, holding each other, and [their] dad's eyes were red and wet in the rain.

Orange:

I looked down at the fire, the flicks and flickers of orange light underneath the cover. The smoke was still sweet, and it swirled together above the cover and into the rain. I swallowed again and rubbed my eye. [My friend's] dad knelt down and sat back on his ankles, and he cried quietly.

Yellow:

"Hey!"

We both turned, looking back to Toler's voice. He scrambled and loped over the forest floor and up to us, holding his hands in his front coat pouch instead of keeping them out like he was supposed to.

"You're going to trip!" Ia said, already walking back to him. He just smiled at her, his face flushed and bright.

"Look what I found," he announced, completely ignoring her, and drawing a hand from his pouch. The fistful of vibrant, yellow-orange was like a flame in the forest, and I rushed to his side, my mouth already watering.

"Cloudberries!" Ia gasped, eagerly cupping her hands together.

Green:

The leader shifted his balance in the entrance to the Dome. We were all lined up in the order we'd come back in. The two hunters and Eeteh were in front of me. We had lines painted on our faces in black and green, mostly on our foreheads, down our noses, and over our lips. The man who had painted my face also put lines under my eyes. But everyone still had the smudges on their foreheads they'd received after getting into the spring.

Blue:

Ohrik crouched down and pulled away some rocks from near the base[ of the tree]. "Look, look," he said, waving me down. I crouched next to him and looked where he was pointing. There were bunches of shiny little bugs, skittering about between the wet parts of the rocks. Their backs glimmered many colors, red and green and yellow and even blue. Ohrik reached down and let some crawl onto his fingers. They looked like seeds walking on eyelash legs, and he held his hand up so I could look closer at them.

Indigo Violet Purple:

"How… bad is it?" I asked. I moved to get to my feet and stood stiffly. Every part of me was sore and stuff now. He held up my underfur for me to hold, and I did. The white of my skin was sharply colored by dark, purplish red where the harness had hurt the most.

Thanks for the tags, @tildeathiwillwrite and @dyrewrites! I didn't expect to easily find these colors, since this particular world is always gray and rainy. But I suppose that makes the colors we do see all the more striking!

Tagging @afoolandathief, @amethystpath-writes, @annakayy, @gummybugg, @kaatiba,

@those-damn-snippets, @serenanymph, @surplus-of-sarcasm, @written-in-starlight, and anyone who wants to play!

Also tagging @thelazywitchphotographer and @mr-orion; I think this is the most number of words I've posted of my WIPs at any one time! :0

Bonus Round!

From Hhamath's story, which is much more colorful:

Red:

Paesha struck, and my heart stopped at the booming sound of Lutem's roar as she lunged.

Ræs, Mæpe, and Athetæm fell from Lutem's bodily assault, and I tumbled when her tail hit me in the chest. I scrambled to my feet in time to see her fangs and teeth buried deeply in Paesha's neck, red flowing over orange, Lutem's eyes wild.

Lutem thrashed as Paesha tried to bite her, fangs dripping amber, and I turned to Mæpe where she lay screaming on the floor.

Orange:

"Darling," she breathed, and her voice was sweet and soft. "Don't you recognize your mommy?"

I flinched again. It was like being struck by a boulder running downhill. Mother. This was my mother? The bright orange scales, the voice, the dread—

"Get away," I breathed, backing further into the wall. She looked at me, unblinking, twisting her ears to me but keeping them low.

"What?"

Yellow:

Nevermind that the sun was edging nearer the horizon and the day had begun its first attempts at cooling off. But outside, against the sun-faded green of the building, its deep blue accents and shingles, and the bright purple and yellow floral displays, I was sure to stick out from far down the road.

Green:

Athetæm and Ræs entered just as waiters were moving about the tables. Ræs was wearing the same shirt, vest, and trousers he had worn to our house for dinner. We had managed to put a new style on Meva's outfit despite using the same piece from the same event, but Fethu, Athetæm, and I were all wearing new and fancier clothes. Athetæm had a dark cream under guard to complement his dark complexion, and a light blue, silk cover that had frills around the neck and on the cuffs of his long sleeves in the front. Fethu wore a light green dress, open down her back, with soft pink accents and ribbons. I had dug out my typical garb for fights: a midnight green cover and cape with yellow-green ties. It had been a gift from Athetæm, and I had learned to trust him when he said the contrast with my unnatural coloring was eye-pleasing.

Blue: *

His hand was shaking slightly as he touched the lid where it was most worn. He turned his head to look at me, and his eyes were wide and reddened. He was… so scared. He smelled absolutely terrified.

Before I could ask him anything, he turned to the box and opened it. Inside was more blue silk, plush and soft-looking. This was a jewelry box, but instead of a necklace, it held a vibrantly colored rat skin.

I had seen mouse skins before, ones that had been dyed green or gray to contrast with the ink their messages were written in. But this was not the same caliber. This skin, on top of being surprisingly large, was dyed a lurid, shimmering blue, with golden highlights running down the spine. The edge of it, where Ræs delicately held and handled it, were worn to the point of being nearly bald. Ræs turned around slowly, gently manipulating the little hide to rest fur-down in his hand, exposing the golden lettering tattooed into the rat's inner skin.

He handed it over with the same care and delicacy he used to handle Mæpe. I took it gently in my wings, staring down at it, sure that I would never in my life hold a more expensive rodent skin.

"Can you read it?" Ræs breathed.

Indigo Violet Purple:

An Usevæ stood in the doorway, her head slightly lowered, one claw raised as if to step forward. She looked very much as if she were trying to be unobtrusive, but she was so large that she had needed to open the door almost all the way to get her shoulders in. She was staring at me with wide eyes and perked ears, and even held the forks of her tongue out slightly from her lips, her orange scales seeming muddled in the purple-ish light of the main library.

---

* In this world, people use tanned mouse skins to send little messages, because of a story/folktale where a mouse carried a letter. Common practice is to paint the message on the underside, and the receiver will wash the message off after they've read it and reuse the skin for a new message when needed. They're hard to make, and normally associated with love letters and secret meetings.

[moonxbat98]

Before The Dawn

Gregory/OC

Three months before the Thompson family move to Scotland sixteen year old Alice Ellington is the new kid in town and no one has ever seen her out with her parents, or knows where she lives; except for Gregory. He knows her parents are dead and she’s a street kid, living like a squatter in an old house on a hill. What he doesn’t know is that she isn’t as fragile as she looks, or that she’s not human. But that’s a secret Alice intends on keeping for as long as she can.

A/N: Will contain graphic depictions of blood, gore, violence, and death. Will notify readers of any changes within the ratings of nudity, sexual themes, and strong coarse language.

Restless and Relentless

Song for the chapter: Shortest Day by The Gathering

—

Gregory’s POV

Something didn’t feel right about this night, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He scratched his head in deep thought and still came up blank; what was it about tonight that had him on edge?

Other than the fact they, his family, were getting even closer to the night of the first comet in three hundred years. Three hundred years spent, seemingly wasted, hunted down relentlessly by vampire hunters and searching endlessly for the stone of Attamon; a piece of rock that was said to break curses.

That they, his family, believed would break their curse. The curse of vampirism. Honestly, it wasn’t so bad.

Gregory scowled at the thought of being reduced to feeding on animals, remembering the times his family used to descend upon unsuspecting families in the dark. Those times had been simpler.

Until the vampire hunters became a bigger issue and his father, Frederick, began growing soft.

Retreat, his father had said.

We must find some place to hide, his father had said.

We must no longer draw attention to ourselves, his father had said.

When Frederick grew weak, Gregory had thought it was outrageous. Their family used to be ruthless until a change began stirring inside of Frederick and it was decided then they would no longer feast like king’s upon mortals.

The want to become human again became an obsession for his father and Frederick soon learned about a mysterious stone through Von, which was believed by conspiracy theorists to have broken off of the comet Attamon and was said to possess serious magic.

Ever since then they’ve been wandering around Scotland, in a desperate search.

Gregory was starting to lose hope, he often thought it was a goose chase.

Also, did he really want to be human again anyway? He was only a month away from turning sixteen when he was bitten in his sleep. His hormones had been all over the place, all the noblest females seemed to flock at his beck and call; only one woman had he wanted the attention of.

And that woman betrayed him, so in a time of great rage Gregory later ripped out her throat with his shiny new teeth. She didn’t deserve to be immortal, in his eyes anyway. Though she had begged for him to change her until she no longer spoke a breath.

Not to mention Gregory had a long standing feud with Malachi; another boy who, in the village, became like the other noble families with a thirst for blood.

But now Gregory was reminiscing. He needed to get out of his head before the anger started to grow like a fire in the pit of his belly, blinking his eyes against a heavy rainfall that overtook Scotland with random surges of wind. Though his clothes and hair were sopping wet he felt no cold.

He stood atop a store building with a bright neon sign hanging in it’s window, looking down at the empty streets below. He’d found himself hopping from one store rooftop to the next in a new shopping center that was recently built. Not like he would ever enter these buildings during the day and only one inside the shopping center was still open.

Except only one mortal was inside, behind a wall of glass for protection and leaning lazily on the countertop thumbing through one of the magazines behind the odd booth. Other than that one person Gregory sensed no other humans around.

Although they were on the opposite side of the shopping center than him Gregory inhaled the sweet, tantalizing scent of lavender and vanilla from where he stood. He growled and dropped to sit on the ledge of the building he was on, leaning in to get a closer look at the unsuspecting human.

His vision was perfect, no mortal eyes could see as well as he could in this downpour. To his delight he could see her so clearly he noticed the shiny metal in the young woman’s face; it was everywhere. In her nose, on her succulent bottom lip, even her eyebrows glinted with silver.

She was intriguing, for a mortal. What was that metal on her face? And her hair was colorful, or at least had streaks of color in it. Red, blue, purple, and green mixing with black. The young woman popped gum in her mouth and Gregory noticed shiny, silver metal there too.

His fingers gripped the edge of the building tighter, nostrils flaring as he picked up a stronger scent coming off of the young woman. Gregory grinned toothily as the scent registered in his mind; it was her blood. A sweet musk that came only from a woman’s monthly cycle, at least to vampires it was intoxicating.

She was dangerous to him.

The unsuspecting young woman had no idea she was being watched, or rather hunted. But something had stirred her from her lounge position, even as Gregory jumped from the ledge of his perch and landed silently on the wet ground below. Her eyes flickered over to stare out her glass booth and through the building door, although Gregory was sure she still could not see him through the unrelenting weather.

He could see her well. He saw her eyes, big and full of just as many colors as her hair. Blues, greens, golds, and browns.

Alice’s POV

The rain outside was relentless tonight, beating heavily on the windows of the cleverly named smoke shop; Blaze It Up, her boss clearly a stoner in his mid–thirties. There was a time she would’ve laughed at the absurdity, but something felt off about the sudden change in weather.

Some big bad thing brewing in the late night storm as she languidly leaned against the counter, chewing on a stick of Juicy Fruit while she delicately flipped through the latest Rolling Stones magazine like it was the holy Bible.

To onlookers, if there had been any in the last hour, Alice would’ve appeared calm and peaceful; content, some would say. On the inside she was on edge, there was an itch in her bones that had her combat–booted foot tapping behind the glass box.

She couldn’t stay still and had a harder time focusing on the magazine she’d plucked from the file–holder style shelf behind her. Other titles jumped out from the magazines, but none interested her as much. Vanity Fair, Better Homes and Gardens, Cosmopolitan, etc.

The newspapers held more intrigue as it’s headline practically shouted: Another Teen Slain by Rogue Beast!

Alice thought to herself, who reads the newspaper anymore?

The article continued on with a warning for residents of Scotland to be aware of your surroundings, travel in groups. Even saying the police are in a feud with state officials concerning the possibility of needing to issue a curfew.

She had no idea she was currently being watched, other than an eerie feeling of her hair standing on end; on the back of her neck, gooseflesh appearing on the skin of her arms as the AC blew down on her from an overhead vent.

It wasn’t the cold that had her hair raising, nor the pimples rising on her skin. The black turtleneck sweater and her leather jacket kept her covered almost completely.

Her senses were on high alert and her eyes narrowed in on the rain outside, searching. She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but her eyesight was impeccable.

Even through the downpour Alice could see the street lamps lining the cobblestone sidewalks, the store front buildings in the new shopping center; going past the glass windows of those buildings and looking into the stores themselves. She saw everything and nothing at the same time.

That’s when she heard it, from miles away; the faint sound of an approaching engine. A normal human wouldn’t have picked up on the sound it was so quiet, but roaring to her. Her nostrils flared in annoyance, reaching under the counter for the sawed–off shotgun her boss kept.

It was real, the gun, but the bullets weren’t; salt rock shells made to hurt. Not to wound. The sawed–off was kept purposefully for protection, not murder. She hoped like Hell they would do more than just bruise, if she had to squeeze the trigger.

Unlocking the only door into the “protective” box she stepped out and loaded the gun with a couple shells, appreciating it’s double barrel with her fingers before snapping it shut. As delicately as she had touched The Rolling Stones magazine, prepared to fire.

Walking into the rain outside with her long, single–slit on the side skirt billowing around her stocking–covered legs Alice held her weapon in one hand and waved her other in an arc over her head. The torrent of water coming down from the sky followed her movements, creating an umbrella effect over her.

She glared into the darkness down the road as a single headlight began forming in the distance, the distance that separated her and the rogue beast for only a minute.

[queen-of-the-night-lights]

Beautiful (Omega x Mom!Reader x Bad Batch)

A/N: So, I have been seeing all of these other stories with a few scenes of the reader being a mom towards Omega and then the rest of the story being with a member of the batch. While I love those my brain went “ Give this little girl done love and support” and I came up with this story which is basically Omega and the reader just hanging out by themselves. ( I also left the ending open so you can imagine the batch member of your choosing😉)

Warnings: None/fluff

Plot: The reader does Omegas make-up for the first time.

“ What are you doing?” The young girl asked innocently. She caused you to jump slightly, it has taken a while to get used to a new voice around the ship. “ People on this planet wear a large amount of make-up so I decided to wear some while I go out to get food and supplies. Here I would stand out much more if I didn’t wear any, opposed to if I did.” You explained brushing on some finishing touches. Meanwhile Omega just watched you, she has never seen anything even close to what you were doing, but then again she didn’t know much about anything outside Kamino.

When you finished you turned to the child and asked “ What do you think?” She smiled and said “ It looks good. A little weird because you look a little different, but still good.” She gave a soft chuckle “ Well thank you, I appreciate your honesty.” Just as you were about to put your makeup away Omega chimed in “ Can I try some on?” You turned back to the girl as she gave you a curious and pleading look. With a small smile on your face you approved with a “ Sure. Come sit down.”

You stood up from your vanities chair to let her sit in it hoping it would make her feel special, in some weird way that’s how you thought of the chair. Pulling a stool close so that you could sit while helping her. “ Lets see...” You said studying Omegas face, you didn’t want to put too much makeup on her since this is probably her first time putting anything on her face. While doing this you noticed many qualities she did share with other clones, making Techs statement a few weeks ago resonate with you. She of course was very different from Regs just like the rest of the batch was, but little traits here and there are where you can tell they are related.

“ Okay so, since I don’t want to put too much on you just incase you have a poor reaction to the makeup, we are just going to do yours a little lighter than mine.” You explained and she nodded in acknowledgment before asking “ What do you mean by reaction?” You then explained how some makeup isn’t compatible with people’s skin and how sometimes people have allergic reactions. After noticing the slight nervousness on the kids face you soothed her by telling her that you only use hypoallergenic makeup and the likelihood of her having a reaction would be very low, but you just want to be careful. After that reasoning she seemed to have gone back to her usual curious nature. “ So usually we would start with foundation, that this part that covers the entire face...” you gestured a circle around yours as you continued “ ...but since I don’t have your exact skin tone of foundation , we are going to use this powder.”

Showing her the brush and translucent powder. “ Now let me know at anytime if you are uncomfortable. Then I will stop and we will make sure everything is okay.” With that you started gently brushing the powder along her face. She giggled at first “ It tickles.” You smiled at her adorable laugh “ Yes it does at first, but I need you to try to hold still the best you can okay?” She then nodded and you continued. The brush was big and soft she had never felt anything like it before. It was a nice feeling as you gently brushed and stippled along her face. You then decided to skip the eye shadow primer and things such as that. Those are for another time when you could teach her longer and had more makeup for her to try.

“ Next, I’m going to have you close your eyes and we are going to use this brush with these two colors and put them right on your eyelids. After that I’m going to wet this brush and put a little line of eyeliner on. That’s this around the base of my eyelashes.” You explained closing your own eyes. She smiled and closed her eyes trusting you not to hurt her. You and the boys always made sure that she was comfortable, no matter what. However there was this different feeling she had towards you than with the others. While she trusted them and loved being around them, there was this different kind of feeling of care you gave off. Maybe it was that “mother” feeling the others told her you had. You just seemed to know the right thing to say and how to say it. You also knew exactly what everyone needed when sometimes they didn’t know themselves.

“ (Y/N), can I ask you something?” As you switched colors you replied in a calm yet reassuring tone “ Of course.” “ How did you learn to do makeup?” You smiled at her question as memories started to fill your head. Taking a breath you explained “ I used to watch my mom. My mother she was, beautiful. With or without make up she had the ability it make a transport ship stop in its tracks. She had these two friends and sometimes they would all put their makeup on together before they would go out. They had this setup where they would put all their mirrors, like this one, all together in a row in front of this huge window we had at my family’s house. And from there I would watch them and think ‘ I can not wait until I am old enough to play with this stuff.’ “ As you finished your story you told Omega to open her eyes and instructed her on the next step. “ It’s all coming together now! This next part is a little scary, but I promise I will not poke you in the eye. I’m going to take this mascara wand and gently put this on your eyelashes.” Omega nodded an okay, then you explained “ Okay, I’m going to need to open your eyes really really wide and look right here.”

You pointed right at where your neck meets your collar bone and quickly put on the mascara. You remember how uncomfortable you were the first time you had it put on for you. Omega seemed a little more relieved after you put it on as well. She then blinked and fluttered her eyes as they adjusted to the new sensation. She then looked back up to you with your soft smile still adorned on your face and asked “ Do you think I’m pretty?” A little taken back you then confidently answered “ Yes Omega, you are very pretty. You have these big, round, and bright eyes, a cute nose...” you said giving her a light tap on her nose to emphasize your point. That caused her to scrunch it up and let out a little laugh. “ And you have this amazing smile.”

Omega had a small blush creep on to her face as you complimented her. You can’t imagine her life back on Kamino, even though she probably treated differently from the rest, you knew that her life, her beginning of her childhood must have been hard. Yet she almost always seemed happy. “ Alright here’s where the hard decision comes in, for your lips do you want a solid color or something shiny.” You said holding a lipstick and a lipgloss in each hand. “ Definitely the shiny one.” She said pointing to the one in your right hand.

“ Excellent choice! Now I’m going to ask you to make a really weird faces. Kinda make your lips go like this.” Omega then mimicked the pursing of your lips making sure she was doing it right. You always thought it was cute when she would try to do the same actions as you all did in the ship, her favorite person to mimic was Hunter, but you couldn’t blame her. “ Alright, now we blot. We want to make sure that our lipstick or lipgloss doesn’t stick or wear off to easily.” Grabbing a tissue of the vanity and showing her what you wanted her to do. Making you lips form a line and gently putting them together, but not actually putting the tissue in your mouth.

Once Omega finished you stood up and asked “ Are you ready to take a look?” She nodded her head with excitement and you spun the chair around to have her face the mirror. You saw her eyes widen and get bigger, if that was even possible, as they filled with wonder. A small whisper of her exclaiming “ woah” left her as she looked at the makeup you did. A bit of pride and affection towards the girl swelled in your chest as the girl copied the head tilts you did earlier as you finished your own makeup. “ Beautiful.”

She smiled as she continued to admire your work “ Thank you!” She exclaimed with a beaming smile looking up at you. “ You are very welcome, but you have to remember it is never the makeup that makes you look pretty, it’s how you treat others and what is on the inside that makes you beautiful.” When you finished that statement Omega turned the chair around and gave you a hug. With tears pricking your eyes you hugged her back. You felt bad for everyone that lived on Kamino, you remember the first time you hugged the others and they were a little taken back and confused by the gesture. Omega however was different due to her young age and hugged you quite often. You wished her the best in the galaxy and wanted to protect her and your boys, your family from any danger.

The hugged lasted a while but you didn’t care, what the two of you didn’t know was that someone was watching you from the doorway. His heart swelled at the interaction between the two of you. He wasn’t there long, he had only been standing there a few minuets. Everyone seemed to have changed a little when Omega came on to the team, and while you didn’t change as much as the others your personality amplified. The way you are able to take care of them became more noticeable, you just had this amazing way with all of them and your ability to care so much.

Everything you did was amazing, making sure they we’re rested, making sure that they had eaten, that they didn’t overwork themselves, reassuring them when they had doubts, and giving hope. He started feeling different about you after the first few months of you being with them. Back then he didn’t know how to describe what he was feeling, but now he knew. He had fallen in love with you. Seeing you with Omega assured him that you would always be there with his family and that you wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt them. He wanted a life with you, his brothers, and Omega. No one will ever take that dream away from him, ever.

[blzzrdstryr]

By proxy

Platonic yandere!Kaeya & child!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2195

A.N.: My first time writing platonic yanderes, hope you'll enjoy.

It's an impulsive decision for the most part - taking you, that is.

Kaeya trudges through the Wolfendom forest, a couple of his underlings, Addler and Otto, following behind as they trail a group of treasure hoarders. Criminal gang must have known that knights are on their tail, there's no other explanation for their sudden fleeing, leaving an already broken camp behind and taking only the most valuable possessions.

It's raining and he silently curses, even if this will give him advantage in battle, but archons, it's so cold. Huge droplets fall on the ground with a resounding sound, drenching everything and turning the forest landscape deep into nigh impassable terrain. Mud clings to their feet, slowing the group down, as the Sun starts to set. Sky turns all shades of purple and red, dimming light throwing the last rays over the Mondstadt as the darkness settles, yet Kaeya and his group still carry forward through the palisade of tall trees.

“Sir”, Otto carefully starts: “It seems that criminals are already several miles away from us”.

Kaeya nods for the knight to continue, already knowing that it will be an ask to stop - the weather is hellish and the rain is one of the heaviest Kaeya has ever had to experience.

“With how strong this rainfall is, the gang's traces will be gone in under an hour”

"All the more reasons to push on and catch them then", Alberich replies, paying zero attention to Adler's slight trembling or Otto's teeth chattering. The group continues on their path through descending darkness, their footsteps hasting despite the clinging and growing fatigue.

Suddenly, as the knights make their way around the cliff, a slight whimper is heard. It's human enough to stop the group - maybe some unlucky civilian got in the way of the gang, maybe criminals left their injured one. Kaeya just nods to the pair, as Otto and Adler unsheathe their weapons, wordlessly understanding the gesture.

Cavalry captain takes a step into the forest pit with a raised sword, all sight and ears, light blue vision on his belt shining and flickering both in caution and anticipation. He walks slowly and quietly, like a cat, careful not to step on the leaves and twigs lying around, and then he sees you.

You are a child, all thin and small in the way that the sick are. There are dark circles under your tired eyes, and the scrapes all over your body. You look already dead. He runs up to you, as he sees your figure swaying and knees buckling, saving you from the fall. Your skin burns Kaeya as he carries you back to the knights - it must be fever then. You blink at him several times, saying something, but your voice is too small and weak to make out anything among the droplets falling, and then you stop, eyes rolling back and head lolling to the side. You blacked out.

He thinks about handing your body to either of the knights and then continuing to run after the gang into the knight, but then decides against it - heavy rain must have blurred all the footsteps they left. Adler almost fails. You escape your delirium a couple of times, babbling words about forest and rain and wolves, and Kaeya, despite his focus on the trail ahead, can't help but listen to what you say. It's childish nonsense for the most part, an incomprehensible product of the feverish mind, yet sometimes you say meaningful things - I thought I would die, I got scared of wolf howls, The rain was so cold.

Some small part of him shrinks and aches at these words, a long buried hurt resurfacing once again. Kaeya frowns and huffs as he tries to get rid of the images of the days long gone in his mind - rainy night, hunger, pain, cold, he will die here. His lips quirk and a humorless laugh escapes him - the irony is painful.

He drops you off at the church, concerned Barbara taking you to the hospital and Kaeya, after a brief report to Jean, goes home, his mind still stuck on the memories of days long past. You will be fine, he tells himself, the church has good healers and the orphanage is nearby. Once you get better, you’ll get sent there, where devoted nuns will raise to be another disciple.

You had a look of a deadman - a strange catatonic serenity was radiating off of you, as you looked at the captain with a glazed yet piercing eyes, both seeing him and through him. It’s cold, so cold, yet no one is here. There are hot tears on his face, wet tracks burning his skin. His tummy is empty and aching, cold bites at his limbs, but Kaeya patiently waits for the adult to return. Father said that Kaeya was their last hope, so sure he would never leave him to die, right?

Cavalry captain barely sleeps through the night, memories and inner demons eating him from inside. When he does manage to doze off, a vague picture of darkening forests and howling winds wake him up, a fervent chanting buzzing in his head - Where is his father? Where is his father? Where is his father?.

Kaeya comes to you the next day, as his shift ends, legs heading to the towering church at the top on their own. Barbara leads him to your bed, your unconscious form lying limply. Idol explains your health issues to him - fever, malnutrition, inflammation, common cold and slight poisoning. The scratches you had yesterday were healed, Barbara says, but the rest of the problems can't be easily fixed with a bit of a hydro.

"Then, what medicines do they need?", Kaeya asks, understanding the unspoken words. The Church of Favonius, despite the large funding it receives from the city's treasury, still lacks a lot of resources and materials. People are free to come and get cured, without having a single mora to pay, which means that most of the remedies disappear at an alarming rate - be it some herbal balm for aching joints or a simple linen bandage.

The idol rustles in the hidden pockets of her dress, taking out a pencil and sheet of paper and begins to write, the list grows as Kaeya’s eyebrows get higher and higher. There are dried Liyuen herbs, exotic Sumeru fruits, specially treated Snezhnayan and Fontaine tinctures and medicines.

Kaeya is taken aback for a second by the sheer length of the final list - most of the items will have to be ordered and shipped and despite his salary of the captain allowing such expenses, it’s still strange to spend so much mora - a complete stranger. Captain contemplates just leaving you there - nuns will take care of you, but the hurt resurfaces again and he sees another person lying on the small hospital bed - little him, scared and confused.

He ends up buying all the listed things, and despite his efforts not to, continues to regularly check up on you when he has time. Sometimes, Barbara says, you wake up from your slumber, enough to utter some confused noises and questions, but then you drowse off again, both sickness and medicine pulling you back to sleep.

Kaeya, to his displeasure, never catches you conscious in time, until he comes one evening, expecting to spend the time looking at you sleeping again only to see you half sitting on the bed. Your posture gets straight the second you notice him too, an expression of confusion and fear appearing on your face.

"Hello", Kaeya starts, slowly walking up towards you, keeping his posture small and voice as friendly as possible:"I am that knight who carried you here, remember?", he explains, seeing the further abashment on you face.

You nod at him, prompting him to continue:"So, I just decided to visit you to ask you how you got in the forest and why were you alone"

"Sister Barbara said that you came here almost everyday," you reply, voice absolutely flat and face having no expression. Kaeya looks at you briefly - it’s rare for children to speak in such a cold manner, you must have something on your mind then.

"Yes, I did" , he says in the same friendly tone.

"Just to know why I was in the forest?" , your voice betrays you, a hint of hurt seeping into it. Ah, that’s why you asked.

"Hm, of course no! I also wanted to see you get better" , he smiles at the end, leaning a bit closer to you. You mull over his words, thinking of their sincerity, and then a later second you say, with much less caution and guard up:

"Well I am better now and…" you get silent for a good minute:"I don't remember why I was there. I think it's because of the fever". Your voice becomes strangely controlled again - you lie to Kaeya, you didn’t forget anything. A part of cavalry captain swells and purrs, recognizing himself in you,

"Do you want to live with me?". He asks instead of trying to get the truth out of you. Your eyes shine and a surprised noise comes out of your mouth at his suggestion - something between a squeak and high pitched yelp.

His apartment isn't the best place to bring the child in - there are far too many bottles and not enough food - Kaeya lives off the takeout from the Good hunter and the skewers he grills when missions call him to leave the city walls. Nonetheless, you don’t look too disgusted with his living conditions, so he considers it a win, as he heads for the tiny kitchen to make you a soup.

It turns out a bit burnt in the end - Kaeya added too much wood to the stove, but you still gulp it down, not leaving anything and thank him for the meal. He makes a mental note to buy you a bed - right now you’re sleeping on a small couch, and clothes to change.

You are a quiet child, too fast to apologize for the smallest mistakes and wary of him when he’s in a foul mood - it gives Kaeya an idea why you were in the woods. Your days together flow slowly and steady with Kaeya falling into routine - he wakes up, makes a breakfast for the both of you, you eat it, as you shyly tell him about your newest interest or finding - a drawing, a strange bug, a shiny rock of unusual colour, then he leaves for work, instructing you to go to the neighbours if you have issues, and leaving a premade dinner for you. Then he comes back, now listening to you talking about your day - you were drawing again, or you played with the other kids, or you were running and catching the butterflies, the now dead insects left for him to look at.

It’s a mundane life, something that Kaeya thought will never please him. There is a large pit inside of him - it was growing and festering with years - Khaenri’ah, father, Diluc, Crepus, that fight. It’s ugly and snarling and thoroughly scorched, a part of his soul that keeps him awake and anxious and angry and sad during bad nights. The pit quiets a bit when Kaeya takes care of you - toys, foods, games, the same way he wishes he was treated as a child.

Crepus Ragnvindr was a nice person, he took Kaeya in, clothed and fed and kept him safe for years, yet there was always an invisible line that separated Khaenri'ahn from Diluc - warmer voice, higher expectations, more praise. Kaeya doubts Crepus noticed this truly tiny gap in treatment, Diluc for sure didn’t. Alberich did his best to ignore it, yet he couldn’t, this difference nagged him at the back of his mind, alienating him in the newfound home.

That must be why he does his best to spoil you - it's new toys and furniture and evening walks around the Mondstadt with you on his shoulders. Soon, a new rumour starts to travel around Mondstadt - about a stray being picked up by another stray. Amber seemingly forgives him for the incident with Collei, Jean gives him a raise the same month, for child expenses, she succinctly says, Albedo off handedly mentions Klee and her desire for friendships, even Lisa gives him a couple of fairytale books, warning him what will happen if he will be late to return them beforehand. Diluc doesn't comment on the irony the next time they happen to meet, but he sees some Dawn Winery workers looking after you, when he is busy with Favonius stuff.

Kaeya, for the first time in years, feels truly happy. He has family again - you and him this time and he's willing to smother you with affections. He buys you things he wishes he had, and teaches you the skills he thinks will help you in life - how to fight, how to lie, how to kill someone with words alone.

It's a strange love he has for you - never seeing you as you - but it's genuine and all encompassing. Kaeya doesn't want little him to suffer again.

[lavendersb]

Provider

Din Djarin x reader

Summary: Din wants to give you the universe. Making you see stars seems like a good place to start.

Warnings: Smut, this is str8 up sin, fingering, soft!dom Din, service!dom Din, overstimulation, so much praise, i wrote this at 3am so if this is hardly literate im so sorry :)

@maybege​ i have you to blame for encouraging my sinful behaviour 

Din doesn’t know how he survived before you.

Of coursed he coped, he hadn’t become the best bounty hunter in the parsec without a certain level of diligence. His structured Mandalorian upbringing had taught him the importance of being capable and organized, of always being one step ahead.

But the child had brought with him its own unique set of challenges. Din could deal with the bounty hunters and imperial forces, they where nothing new to him. The joys of parenthood however had taken some getting used to.

He was an angel most of the time. Din could spend hours with the little womp rat and not encounter the slightest hitch, but when the fancy struck him, the child could turn into a little terror of angry gargles and twitching ears. The fact that he could also throw items around the crest with his strange magic powers didn’t make these tantrums any easier for Din to handle.

That’s when you had arrived. Offering your services as caretaker and claiming to be a half -decent mechanic as well, Din had hired you almost instantly. The child was almost as taken with you as he was, and from that moment on, Din never looked back.

He learns quickly that you had been very modest about your skills. Not only where you capable of handling whatever the child threw your way, you could also help with just about any problem the crest came up with. Din also learns that you’re not bad in a fight, and on the odd occasion he invites you out on a hunt with him. You work together like a well-oiled machine, united by a common goal of protecting the child. Protecting each other.

Perhaps it was your caring and capable nature that drew Din closer to you than he ever expected he would. Regardless of what it had been, Din has never felt as happy as when he comes home to see the love of his life waiting for him with his strange little son.

This is where his mind has wondered as he trudges through the swampy mud back to his ship. The bounty was on planet thankfully, so Din never had to worry about bringing the quarry near to his safe haven. The safe haven in question, the metallic body of the razor crest, peeks out at him through the trees and Din’s feet just can’t move fast enough.

Din lowers the ramp, and as he reaches the warmly lit interior of the hull he can’t help but pause a moment in shock.

The hull when Din had left it was a state. On the previous planet you had returned to the crest just as a team of Jawas had started to tear it apart. Thankfully Din had managed to scare them off before they could cause any real damage, but a fair few interior wall panels had already been unscrewed and tossed aside. This morning Din had left the hull in that same state. Now it was as if there had never been any damage at all.

But there, in the centre of the hull is the thing that makes Din’s heart clench beneath the beskar. You’ve set a small metal container on the ground, filled it with some warm water which gently steams, and placed the little green child inside for a bath. He watches where you kneel beside the tub, grinning at the child as he holds one of your fingers in one tiny hand, and splashes the water with the other.

“Hi,” you say through a slight laugh, snapping Din out of his reverent staring “we’re almost done here”

Din walks forward, coming to stand beside you and bending to press his forehead to yours softly.

“Did you fix the ship?” he asks softly, though he knows the answer.

“Yes,” you confirm, pulling away from him reluctantly. The child, now wholly interested in the return of his father, reaches out to Din and begins to babble uncontrollably.

“We’ve had a busy day, haven’t we? But you’ve been such a good helper,” You say to the child, and Din watches you fish the wriggling child out of his bath and wrap him up in a soft towel. He notes that the task of fixing the crest must have taken almost all of the day, and having to keep the child entertained at the same time wouldn’t have made it easy for you.

“Mesh’la, have you eaten today?”

Din takes your silence as an answer and his happiness falters just a little. Of course you would prioritise your task and the child before yourself. Sometimes he wonders how you would survive without him.

“I wanted to wait” you reassure him weakly “enjoy my break when the work is done”

“I’ll take him from here, you should rest” Din says, leaving no room for argument.

He takes the child from you, now dressed in a freshly cleaned robe (another task you’ve completed that he wants to thank you for). Din sees a moment of doubt pass over your face as you try to argue with him, but the feeling of tiredness creeping into your bones wins you over. With an acknowledging smile, you kiss the child on the head and disappear towards the nearest bunk.

Din takes care of the last few jobs of the day, content in the knowledge that his love is resting nearby. He makes the jump to hyperspace first, cradling the child in his arms. The little bundle is still warm from the bath, and Din watches his big glossy eyes blink slowly at him, trying to savour the last moment seeing his Buir’s shiny helmet before he falls asleep.

Once the child is safely asleep in his cot, Din goes to fish through his bag, producing one of the fresh bread rolls and a selection of berry’s he bought before he returned. He plates them with the last of the soup that’s left, and once he’s finished his own portion and secured his helmet back in place, he calls out to you to join him.

Woozy and half asleep, Din watches fondly as you float towards the little kitchen set-up. The sleep in your eyes is replaced with excitement as you catch a glimpse of the fresh food on the table.

“Din,” you breathe “you shouldn’t have”

“It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done today”

Din watches as you happily devour the food. He listens intently as you tell him all of the things you and the child got up to that day. How long it took to fix the panels, how the two of you played out in the muddy swamp for a while before you brought the child in for a well needed bath. This domesticity is something so new to him, but you make it feel easy. Just like you made it easy for him to fall in love with you. He would give you the galaxy, Din thinks, if only he knew where to start.

When the food is finished, Din clears the plates away but there’s a feeling deep down in his soul that he can do more for you. There’s still something else he can provide. As he sees you walk away towards the refresher, he knows he must act fast.

Din crowds you against the wall, pressing you against the panels you’ve just diligently fixed. A hand that rests at the back of your head prevents you from hurting your skull, and Din lets his fingers wind through the strands beneath them. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at his visor, surprised by his sudden movements and hopeful, Din can tell, that he might be about to pull unspeakable pleasures from you.

“Have I taken care of you? He asks quietly.

“Y-yes”

“No,” Din chastises “I haven’t. Not yet. Tell me what you need”

Your lips flutter as the words Din seeks dance around your mouth. He encourages your response by fisting your hair a little harder, not to be cruel, but to ease you into his instruction.

“You, Din” he finally hears you gasp “I need you”

Pride swells in him at your words, and he moves the hand in your hair to wrap around the small of your back and fasten on your waist, pulling you close to him whilst he presses you to the wall.

“Then you’ll have me”

Din uses his free hand to pull at the obstructing fabric that keeps him from the apex of your thighs. Softly, but without preamble his hand dips to your heat and makes a gentle swipe through your folds, groaning when he finds it warm and soft and so very wet already.

His fingers find your clit and with tiny, firm little circles he plays with it to his hearts content. Din feels you tremble and sag against him, enjoying how accepting you become to his touch.

“My sweet girl,” Din breathes, and it’s said so reverently it makes you tremble and mewl just that bit more.

“My sweet girl, you’ve worked so hard today” The movements against your clit slow and you whine in complaint. Din chuckles and shushes you “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whine desperately, moving to grip the arm that reaches between your legs, hoping to encourage it to move again.

Din smiles beneath his helmet, satisfied with your compliance as he returns to your clit with vigour, plucking from you tiny gasps that draw his hungry eyes to the way your pretty chest rises and falls.

“Then cum mesh’la. Come so I can fuck your pretty cunt with my fingers”

And oh how that filthy promise pushes you off the edge. He feels you stiffen in his arms and pulls you closer to him until you feel crushed by his solid presence. You can hardly register it though, too lost in the waves of pleasure that don’t seem to ease at all. Din doesn’t stop playing with your clit until your pretty moans turn to gasps and pleas to stop.

He doesn’t remove his hand from you, simply sliding his fingers down to trace that little fluttering hole he loves so dearly. He watches your face the whole time, enjoying how slack it goes when the first finger makes a teasing press against you.

“Pretty girl you take such good care of us, but you neglect yourself” he teasingly scolds, pressing into you a little further with his finger and watching you keen at his tone.

“Would you like to be taken care of? Is that what you need?”

“Yes, Din, yes” you nod frantically, squirming in his firm grasp.

He squeezes your hip in warning, before sliding his finger deep inside you. Both of you groan at the feeling of your soft heat welcoming his finger. He starts to pump into you, his pace direct and precise, hitting against that soft spongy spot with each push. Din wanted to give you the galaxy, making you see stars seemed like a good place to start.

“I knew from the first minute I saw you that you’d be so warm and soft everywhere” Din says as you cry out for him “and I was right, wasn’t I mesh’la? Your cunt might be the warmest, softest thing in the whole galaxy”

As he adds another finger, Din swears he’s never felt more whole then when he’s breaking you apart like this. Letting you be tender and vulnerable. You break apart for him so well he muses.

“Won’t you cum for me?” he says, and stars you’ve never wanted to come so bad in all your life. Not just because you think you might explode at the way his fingers are aiming for that spot that makes you cry out in pleasure, but also because you want- no need him to know how much you love him. How grateful you are that he treats you so well.

When you do cum its electric. You reach for Din’s pauldron for support, gripping the metal as you rock against his hand. He feels you soak his palm and groans, shamelessly grinding himself against whatever part if you he can.

He doesn’t pull his fingers from you, instead he massages your walls gently watching you twitch when he rubs that special place inside you. He waits until you meet his eye through the visor, expectantly waiting for him to withdraw his fingers.

Instead he presses his thumb back against your thoroughly abused clit and holds you tighter as you give a startled jolt against him.

“Din,” you whine, and he smirks at how wrecked and helpless you sound “I can’t-“

“You can” he insists, picking up the pace of the fingers inside you “You’ll cum again because I’m telling you to. Because I’m taking care of you, right?”

You can barely nod in response, your body to busy trying to cope with the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation. Din gazes at your face, taken by the way your brows pinch and fat tears fill your waterline and weigh down your eyelashes. 

The sight of you has him desperate, and he removes the hand from around your waist, using his torso to pin you to the wall so you don’t collapse. He tugs the cowl away from his neck to expose the tanned skin of his neck. You don’t need his instruction to know what to do next, and with what little energy left in your body, you lean forward to press messy, fluttering kisses to the skin over his pulse.

Din grunts, truly blissed out by the feeling of you on him doubles his assault on your sensitive heat. He barely hears your gasping warning before he feels you come utterly undone against him. Your cunt squeezes his fingers so tightly, and he makes sure to tell you that, though he’s not sure you can hear him. Your face is still pressed against his neck, breathing against him, and he swears he feels a wet tear drop against his skin.

“I love you, sweet girl” he says, pulling his fingers from you softly.

The hum that comes from your heavy, satisfied, and sleepy body tells him he’s done his job well. He lets himself feel proud. Upstairs, his child sleeps soundly in his crib. Well protected and well loved. Here, in his arms, lays his love. Soon she’ll be asleep in their shared bed, and Din will find himself wondering how he was blessed with such a wonderful and loving partner.

[kyberconfessions]

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. Part 4

Hello All! Sorry for the delay! My Hubby and I have had a busy month of July and I wasn’t able to keep to my schedule like I wanted too. Sorry about that. From Baseball games to Comic-Cons to Disney trips, we’ve been stupid busy. I am working furiously on the other chapters and hope to at least have some words on Cody soon! Y’all, not going to lie, the fact that there has been ZERO mention of him on The Bad Batch is killing me.

As Always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and deals with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate.

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 4: It’s You.

You waited with your back to the door on Hondo's ship; another one was docked right outside, carrying the crew that had something either of you wanted. You took a deep breath, adjusting your blaster in your thigh holster and checking over your clothes before putting on your helmet. The base of it was a black Ubese helmet, edged with black dyed bantha hair and painted to resemble a Kaleesh skull in white.  The edges of the white skull were rimmed in a dark red and the faux eyes were painted an electric green, almost making them glow.The breather of the helmet was pointed down, tapering at the end and etched with designs reminiscent of a certain Kel Dor. Twin points also came down from the sides,  once again resembling a Kel Dor breather, but painted to look like the fangs of the Kaleesh skull. When you wore it, you were an incredibly fearsome sight to behold. 

Hondo had stepped out of the cockpit while brushing off his clothes, but when he saw you he went on and on in a poetic manner making you snort behind your mask, "Pretty Lady must you put on that horrid thing? How am I supposed to gaze upon your beautiful Visage? How am I to write songs of your shiny eyes if you insist on covering them? How am I to chant loudly into the heavens about the glory of your smile when all I see is that ugly thing staring back at me?" 

The sound that came out of the modulator was a loud crack of static. It wasn't lost on him though, and he waggled his brow at you, knowing he made you laugh.

"Hondo, one of these days I'm going to launch you out of an airlock. Then you'll be Wild Space's problem."

He laughed loudly, but before he could give a retort, the door-lock opened and the crew from the other ship began to board.

Immediately the hair on your neck stood up and your hackles raised. It was time to go into heartless bounty hunter mode, another mask that became easier and easier for you to put on.

Hondo noticed your posture change and went to greet whoever had come aboard, stepping in front of your turned back. Whether it was to hide his best and most terrifying asset or to put space between you and them for your sake, you never knew. You liked to think it was his way of still protecting you, even after all these years. It probably was.

"My friends! My friends! So good to see you again! Ezra Bridger! It has been too long!" 

You heard the cacophony of voices greeting him in a less than enthusiastic excitement. If these people were your friends, you would have laughed again. But you didn't have friends.     From the sound of it, there were four people behind you. Nothing difficult to take down, but not something you should be careless with. There was something off about one of them though, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but they were...familiar.

"Allow me for introductions! This tall, imposing creature behind me is my associate, bodyguard, smuggler, chief pilot, chief mechanic, artistic muse, platonic soulmate, oldest friend, and beautifully deadly bounty hunter, all rolled into one.  And this band of colorful characters are the crew of the infamous Ghost!" Hondo waved his hands in a grandiose manner between the group and your back; this was a well rehearsed situation that you both had done several times, though for whatever reason, he decided to over exaggerate your titles. Normally he would do the talking and you would scare the clientele. And if you had too, if they had something that you knew belonged to them, you'd kill them. Nothing would keep you from the last remnants of the ones you loved and lost.

"Ahh, Hondo? Does your associate have a name? Or talk? Are they even awake? Are they just going to stand there?" You heard a boy's voice, a cockiness only found in the young lacing every word. 

"Ezra." A woman, probably someone important, chastised the boy.

You waited for Hondo's signal for you to turn, but the door opened once more and you heard one more set of boots and something soft, furry, stepping across the steel. A voice spoke. A Lassat. Dangerous creatures, you had seen a few when you were still a young Padawan with your old Master. Before the war. Before they died. Back when your biggest concern was the eventual Trials. You knew a fight wasn't going to be easy and you hated the idea of killing an already dying race. But you would if you had too.

The Lassat male was arguing with someone about something, but you weren't paying attention.

Hondo touched your shoulder softly, your signal to turn. He had spent the time making pleasantries and lulling them into a false sense of comfort, probably. He could have been talking about the weather on Jakku for all you cared. You were more concerned about making sure the straps on your holsters were open, giving you easy access to draw.

Slowly you moved, letting them see just how dangerous you were, how in control of your body you were, how much they should fear the creature behind the helmet. But, you halted mid spin.

All of the blood drained from your face, your mouth went dry, your throat tightened up, and you were overcome with such anger and gut wrenching sorrow you thought you would snap.

The man that walked in with the Lessat was wearing HIS armor. The armor you had spent 15 years looking for.

You blanked. 

Somewhere there was yelling and cries to stop, but you couldn't make it out. Your head was spinning and it felt like there was cotton in your ears and as tunnel vision took over, everything knocked your senses for a loop. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but you grabbed both your blasters, turned fully, and pointed them at the man. Half the crew jumped out of the way, the others pointed their weapons at you, and Hondo tried to reason with both sides, standing with his back to you while the man had his own blasters trained on your head. Hondo quickly got out of the way of the four barrels, still trying to diffuse the situation. You couldn't understand what he was saying, everything sounded so dull and muted.

No, wait. Those weren't just any blasters. You would know those DC-17s anywhere. 

"HOW DARE YOU!"

 Someone was screaming. You couldn’t tell who it was or where it was coming from. It was garbled and cracking, a mechanical sound. It hurt your head. You just wanted everything to stop, just for a moment. But the world kept spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out any moment. You just wanted everything to be quiet, you needed to think, you just wanted a moment to figure out what was going on. Why was it so loud? Why did everything hurt? You just wanted everyone to just be still. Just be still, if only for a second. 

You could feel your breathing pick up, that tightening fear in your chest, that ache that gripped your heart and threatened to pull it from your body. ‘Just be quiet, please, please, be quiet. I can’t...I need to think, I need to think..’

"HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS HELM!” More screaming,  “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO HE WAS?! DO YOU?! HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS ARMOR AS YOUR OWN! HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE AND KNOW NOTHING OF HIM!" Maker, the screaming was coming from you. You were yelling at him, venomous spit falling from your mouth, words meant to shame and kill. Your blasters were trained on his chest, fingers laying on the triggers. 

"TAKE IT OFF OR I WILL RIP IT FROM YOUR BROKEN CORPSE!"

You could feel something wet on your cheeks but you didn't know what it was or where it came from.  Did this man kill Rex?! Did he rip his beloved armor from his broken body? Did he leave him to rot in some cursed field? Or did he just take it from his already forgotten skeleton? Your heart beat a mile a minute, you were sweating and your whole body shook in anger, but your hands never wavered, blasters trained perfectly on the man. How dare this cretin dishonor Rex, dishonor his memory. 

"YOU WILL NEVER INSULT HIS MEMORY AGAIN! TAKE IT OFF!!"

You were panting and your modulator was straining under the volume of your voice.

No one lowered their weapons. No one spoke. No one moved a muscle. All that could be heard were your wheezing sobs through the helm.

 There was a beat. And then another. And then the man did something unexpected.

You just knew you were going to have to kill everyone. You just knew you were going to peel bloodied, beloved armor from some backwater nothing. 

But when he slowly lowered his arms, holstering the DC-17s, you faltered. Was he giving up so easily? Perhaps he didn't want bloodshed after all. Good. But it didn't make you lower yours. Nor did it make the others lower theirs.

Slowly, like he was trying to coax a scared lothcat, the man raised his open hands to the old helm covered in hatch marks with jaig eyes and pulled it off. 

First you saw weathered skin tanned from the sun, a white beard trimmed nicely, then a strong nose and finally golden eyes, eyes you had seen a million times before. Eyes that haunted you every time you went to sleep. Eyes you thought you would never see again.

When he had taken the helm completely off and tucked it under his arm, he spoke. And everything inside of you shattered.

"My name is Rex. Captain of 501st regiment in the Grand Army of the Republic. This is my armor that was issued to me almost 20 years ago. I don't know who you think I am, but I can assure you, this is my armor."

The others watched you, weapons trained. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed. You, on the other hand, felt everything rushing back at you full force. When he spoke, his voice was a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you, causing you to hyperventilate.  Your blasters, still trained on him, began to shake violently in your hands.

You were panting and your eyes blurred from all of the new tears. Panic rose high in your throat, cutting off your breathing. It can’t be. How could it be? He died. The Empire recorded him dying after Mandalore. You were there, you saw the absolute destruction. No one survived that.

Involuntarily you dropped your weapons and they clattered loudly to the durasteel ground, but your arms were still stretched out, still holding onto phantom guns. 

You inhaled sharply, your modulator cracking in a loud hiss. Slowly, trying to control the tremors that wracked your body, you moved your hands to your own helm and unlatched the buckles on the sides. There was another hiss as the airtight seals released the pressure and vented.

"What's going on..." the young boy started. "Hush, Ezra Bridger." Hondo cut him off, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder as you and Rex stared one another down.

You lifted your helm up and then let it fall to the floor, a loud clank shaking the silence between you all.

Rex sucked in a breath and released it in a harsh shudder, his mouth hanging open. "Mesh'la," he whispered; he could feel his knees giving out, causing him to stumble forward and push his way through his crew.

His eyes were as wide as saucers and glistening. Fat, heavy tears tracked down his face and fell into his beard as he reached shaking hands out to you. He paused for a moment, afraid that if he touched you, you would disappear like every dream before. But carefully his hands gripped your face, gently turning it side to side, taking in the scars and faint crows feet and wisps of grey hairs you now sported. Your age and harsh life showed, but you were still just as beautiful, just as ageless, just as perfect as he remembered. Still the same eyes that he dreamed of every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and every nerve ending burned. You could hear your blood pumping in your ears, creating a painful rush like being thrown under the oceans. Every part of you felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move. Slowly your shaking hands gripped his wrists and held him close. Your body tried to take a shuddering breath, but it only came out as a choked sob while you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the noise left you, Rex pulled you close, his mouth over taking yours in a passionate kiss, full of tongue and teeth. Your hands left his wrists and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to hold your face.

"Rex. I thought....I thought you were...Rex," you whispered into his lips between kisses.

"I searched for you, Cyare. I looked everywhere. I thought you died. I thought Cody.."

Your breath hitched at his name, making Rex pull you impossibly closer. You both stood there, wrapped in eachothers arms, crying, kissing, whispering love to one another, completely oblivious to the others. 

You weren't sure if your knees failed you, or if it were his, but one of you fell to the floor, taking the other with them, still wrapped in each other, crying and holding on for dear life. 

The Twi'lek woman quietly ushered the others, a man and a Mandalorian girl, along with the boy and Lessat, out. Hondo followed behind, a smug smile on his face, ridiculously proud of himself, giving you both much needed privacy.

[calaofnoldor]

Dean, Don’t

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 1,906

Summary: You’re heavily pregnant and highly irritable. Luckily, Sam Winchester is the sweetest moose to ever moose.

Warnings: pregnancy (and all its related symptoms), ill-fated attempt at humor, disgustingly sweet fluff (seriously, you’re gonna need a tooth brush)

A/N: this might be my first ever attempt at this genre, so please don’t judge me too harshly :)

MASTERLIST

“Wow… geez, you look ready to-“

“Dean,” Sam shot his brother a warning glance as he guided you into the kitchen, a giant palm held gently against your aching lower back, “Don’t.”

Dean quickly raised his hands and the gesture, together with his wide eyes, seemed to say ‘I wasn’t gonna say anything!’, although you knew that was far from the truth. In fact, you knew exactly what he was thinking because you’d been thinking it too – every hour of every day. It was safe to say you really didn’t need any reminders of your current condition.

“Y/N’s already having a rough time with the twins keeping her up all night, and she’s been extra sore lately,” your moose came to your rescue as always. Sam had been doing that a lot recently, not only by shielding you from Dean’s crude comments (and consequently protecting Dean from your wrath as well), but also by comforting and distracting you from the woes of your third trimester.

“Well at least it’ll be over soon, right?” Dean tried again.

“Not soon enough,” you grumbled in reply, before attempting to stretch out your spine with an unfiltered groan of discomfort.

“Aaand, that’s my cue to leave!” Dean announced, grabbing his plate of bacon to go and sauntering off, though not before sending his little brother an exaggerated ‘good-luck-with-that’ expression.

Sam rolled his eyes despite feeling somewhat relieved by his brother’s departure, then turned back to you. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you off your feet.” He wore a sweet sympathetic smile; it was one he had been donning often as of late, but it only worsened your mood.

“Sam, I’m fine. I can’t be constantly sitting or lying down!” You barked irritably, but when you noticed the sad puppy dog look on your boyfriend’s face, your attitude instantly withered.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just hate this so much.” Your fingers began to massage your temples as your mouth continued to utter the words that took you beyond the point of no return, “I’m a hunter, you know? I’m supposed to be able to take down monsters with the swing of my machete! I used to be able to roundhouse kick those inhuman bastards when I wanted to, and now I can’t even put my own socks on!” That much was true. Sam had helped you with your socks earlier that morning.

“And sometimes you being so overprotective only makes me feel more useless,” you added with a defeated huff.

Sam waited patiently until he was certain your little tirade was over. “I know exactly what you’re capable of, Y/N; you never have to remind me. And I can guarantee that you will still be able to do all those things… after you’ve given birth to our beautiful babies, and your body recovers from this drastic change it’s endured.”

He moved closer to you and extended one hand to caress the side of your face, while the other splayed across your immensely swollen stomach. “But baby, right now, at 39 weeks pregnant with twins, you’re not supposed to be able to do all that. I wouldn’t want you to be doing all that,” he chuckled lightly with the afterthought as he pictured your heavily expectant form attempting one of your famous round house kicks.

You raised a brow at him, knowing how his mind worked, and he immediately sobered, “Y/N, my point is you don’t realize how incredibly strong you are already, even without all the pregnant kung fu fighting you seem to be so keen on.”

Although you were tempted to roll your eyes at his teasing, the boyish grin he cast you couldn’t be resisted, and the corners of your lips begrudgingly lifted. But a sudden lurch in your belly wiped the smile promptly from your features.

“Oh,” you breathed in a gasp, placing your hands upon the area of assault.

“What? What is it?” Sam questioned worriedly, as he too moved both his hands to your baby bump. His eyes flickered frantically between your face and stomach, trying to read the situation for himself.

“Nothing, just a really strong kick, I think,” was your reply after a pause. You looked up at him with what you hoped was a reassuring smile. He returned it with a certain tinge of apprehension, so you grabbed his hand and placed it where one of your wayward twins was moving erratically within you.

No matter how many times Sam felt it, he couldn’t help but beam with pride and elation at the thought of his children growing stronger each day, and the fact that you were the one fostering their development made him truly believe he was the luckiest man alive in that moment.

“Wow, I guess they’re really ready to come out, huh?”

“Maybe,” you mused, “Or maybe they’ll choose to torture me for another week. I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Still fondling your belly with one hand, Sam used his other to turn your face towards his. “I am really sorry that you’re hurting. I wish I could make it stop.” He said it with such sincerity, you were almost inclined to forgive him. Almost.

“I would say ‘it’s not your fault’, but it kinda is,” came your playful response, which happily earned you a loving kiss.

When his lips left yours, you continued, “Also, as if the fact that two of your swimmers managed to make it to my eggs wasn’t enough, did you really have to make both of them Winchester-sized too?” You motioned vaguely to the wide expanse of your front side.

Sam said nothing, but rewarded you with a hearty laugh and a second kiss.

Later that day, as you sat snuggled between Sam’s lengthy and outstretched limbs on the bed, the two of you absent-mindedly watched an old classic movie play out on the television. His lips grazed your hairline every few minutes and his hands rubbed incessant circles on your extended stomach.

“How do you know our babies will be beautiful?” You questioned Sam abruptly, your eyes never leaving the screen.

His chest rumbled with a deep chortle that resonated through your back and caused you to smile in turn. “Well, they’ve got you for a mother, don’t they?”

“Psh! You forgot to mention that they’ve also got a father who looks like he was sculpted by the Greek gods! But that’s not the point; genetics is based on chance.” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes.

“Fine. I just have a feeling then, OK?” Sam shut you up with a quick kiss to the lips and you of course assented.

“Do you still think they’re going to be girls?”

“I hope so,” he replied with a pensive smile.

You studied his elegant features for a minute before feeling a smirk form on your own face. “Well too bad, they’re both boys.”

“What? How do you know?” Sam’s brow furrowed in that way you always thought made him look unbelievably adorable, especially for a man of his stature.

“I just have a feeling, OK?” You quoted back at him. “They call it mother’s intuition.”

Sam’s grin returned and you couldn’t remember feeling better in the past month. Dean hadn’t disturbed you all day since the incident in the kitchen, and the support of Sam’s solid torso pressed against your back seemed to be alleviating some of the strain from your body.

But alas, nothing is ever what it seems when you’re living with the Winchesters. A sudden splash of fluid upon the sheets interrupted your scarce and apparently fleeting moment of peace.

It took you a moment to register the wetness between your legs, although Sam was already one step ahead of you. “DEAN!” he hollered towards the hall.

“Sam, I think my water just broke,” you told him in a slight trance.

“Yeah, I know, baby. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and changed.” Sam’s voice was soothing and you began to follow his lead, slowly rising to your feet as he supported you from behind.

Just then, Dean came barreling in, brandishing his gun as his eyes searched frantically for any potential sources of peril. His green gaze turned befuddled upon finding no clear cause for distress.

“Dean, go get the Impala ready. Y/N’s in labor.” Sam’s voice held that composed and assertive edge which it often did when he took the lead on hunts. You would have found it awfully attractive under different circumstances.

As it were, a fresh contraction tore through you when you reached the dresser, and you were forced to bend over to weather the impact, your breathing becoming a little uneven. Sam’s arms were instantly around you, while the sight of your hunched and gravid form awoke Dean from his stupor.

He cleared his throat and his voice seemed a little gruffer than usual, “Uh, OK. Right. So… the bags? What do I need?”

“I’ll get the bags. Just get the damn car ready, Dean.”

Still the older Winchester stood transfixed in his spot, his eyes were somewhat unfocused. “Wow. So this is really happening…”

“Dean!”

“Yeah! On it! Got it! Uh… fight the fairies, Y/N! We got this.” And with that, he finally took off for the garage.

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, “He’s right, you know? This is really happening.”

Sam turned around and held your gaze with such reverence and fondness, you nearly melted right then. “I know,” he stated simply, before he crashed his lips to yours in a rushed yet zealous smooch.

“Ow! Yeah, OK, I think the twins are sick of our antics already,” you gushed through gritted teeth as another tightening of your middle took over.

Sam cupped your stomach gingerly on either side, as if he could somehow abate the pain with his touch. “Right, let’s hurry it up then. I think all that soreness you felt before and the twins’ heightened movement might’ve been a sign of early labor.”

“You’re such a nerd, you know that?”

He only responded with knowing smirk, then continued to help you get changed so he could usher you out the door.

Dean met you outside, where he stood by the shiny black car, looking a little more prepared for action than earlier. “You guys good?”

“Yeah, are you?” Sam asked, a bit dubiously.

“Hey, I’m ready to get this show on the road!”

“Am I gonna fit?” You eyed the Impala with slight apprehension. You had always been a fan of the classic car before, but now that Sam had fertilized you so thoroughly, the backseat seemed a lot more daunting.

“Of course, my girl can handle anything. She’ll get you to the hospital in no time so that you can have my nieces.”

“Nephews,” you corrected, but nodded anyway and allowed Sam to help you inside the vehicle.

The boys stood outside for a moment longer. “You alright, Sammy?”

Sam was glowing and Dean couldn’t have repressed the surge of love and pride that rose within him if he tried, despite his ‘no chick flick moments’ rule.

“Yeah, I’ve never been better, Dean.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole!” You would later blame the contraction for your foul language, but it was your shouting through the window that ultimately got you on the road.

“Yeah alright, we’re going! Just don’t be having any babies in my Baby!”

“Dean,” Sam’s bitch face revealed itself once more, “Don’t.”

→ CARRY ON

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! btw, if any of you sam girls wanna show off your love for the giant adorkable moose man, there’s a ‘sammy the moose’ print now available at lexicolor.redbubble.com!

also available in various styles, as well as on mugs, notebooks, phone cases, and a bunch of other stuff! and if you’re more of a dean girl, i got you covered too ���❤️

[jungkookiebus]

Hellblazer  pt. 1 | jjk

Genre: demon!au, smut Rating: M  Pairing: demon!Jungkook x FemConstantine!reader Warnings: demonic possession, wounds that would correlate with a “possession”, minor character death, mentions of suicide, rough sex, hair pulling, face sitting, multiple orgasms Summary: “Few people really think about dying... paranoids worry about it without really understanding it. Victims of fatal accidents and murder don't have time to think. You only really think about it if you take the time to. And you only take the time if you know it's going to happen.” -John Constantine, Dangerous Habits Pt. 1: The Beginning of the End, Issue #41. Author’s Note: You can blame the concept photos from today. Also, a kind anon requested it. :D

The girl’s deep, otherworldly screams filled the room as you secured her hand to the headboard.

“Hold her down!” you yelled.

Three men were on each corner of the bed trying to hold the frantic young woman down as she thrashed and threatened to rip everyone’s balls off.

Just your run of the mill demonic possession.

Sweat began to roll down your brow as you fought her. You were strong and equally strong willed, but these men were either scared to hurt her or scared of her. Probably both. She gnashed her teeth in your direction, spit flying, and her black eyes were focused on yours.

“You’ll never fucking get me out of here, Hellblazer,” she growled.

“Oh yea? Then how come you’re letting me tie you to this bed?” you struggled out as you planted your foot on the edge and pulled with all your strength on the rope.

“Your blood is just like mine. Why fight us?” her growls filled the room.

The priest that was residing over this possession was tucked away in the corner, clutching his Bible as if his life depended on it, and maybe it did. The girl’s mother cried in the arms of her husband begging the demon to let her little girl go. Apparently, she had been possessed for months and when the priest was at a dead end, he contacted you.

Little did they know was that you were doomed to fail. You always tried, though, to redeem yourself for your sins; hoping that helping others would make up for what you had done.

When she was sufficiently tied down, you moved to your leather bag to pull out the relics you had brought. You always moved through the same motions, knowing what you were doing was right, but never quite getting there; a punishment in which you wish you could be freed.

The cross you held out in front of you pissed off the demon as it should since it was made from the same wood from Christ’s crucifixion, having been passed down through your family for thousands of years. Or so your dad had said.

“Sancte Michael,”

Saint Michael,

“defende nos in proelio”

Defend us in battle.

The demon writhed against its bindings as you continued the prayer.

“ut non pereamus”

That we might not perish.

“You’re going to hell with me, you bitch!”

She was pulling so hard now that the bindings were beginning to cut into her skin. Her eyes fluctuated from solid black to her natural green and back again. The veins were black and blue against her paper white skin, her hair was sparse where she had been pulling it out, and her body was covered in bruises. The demon was essentially killing her from the inside out.

“in tremendo iudicio.”

At the dreadful judgment.

Two hours later and the girl was gone. Yet another failed exorcism. As if you felt like this would go any differently. You told the uncle who was there to help it was probably because the demon had been inside of her for so long. At least it was half true.

You shielded your hand as you lit a cigarette, took a long inhale before holding it and releasing it into the air. Standing outside on the cobblestone street, you squinted up past the dim streetlights and up into the night sky. The stars sparkled above you, ever present and totally oblivious to the shit show going on down here. You suddenly wished that you were among them, burning until you exploded and became part of the universe once more. Maybe then your stardust would land on some other planet that didn’t see shit like that. But maybe there was a Hell there too.

Your boots clicked on the uneven, wet stone. Looking down at your watch you saw it was three a.m. The night was cool, it had just rained, and you breathed in deeply the fresh air. Your lungs expanded appreciatively, with no sickness, not anymore at least. You took another drag of the cigarette, noticing you were burning through it quickly. Your nerves were still on edge from the exorcism and you knew you’d be thinking about it for weeks before the nagging feeling of failure went away.  

“Hello, little demon hunter,” you heard from the shadows of an alley you were passing.

You stopped, frozen in your tracks, but it wasn’t uncommon for you to meet unwanted people…or creatures for that matter from time to time. You made a mental checklist of every weapon and talisman on your body as you swiveled on your heel. Clicking the safety off your handgun, you pulled it from under your coat and pointed it into the darkness. You heard the click of a tongue in the darkness.

“That won’t do much.” It was a male voice, smooth as silk but layered in heat. Hell had a certain dialect and you knew that lilt anywhere. You were the only human that you knew that could travel through Purgatory, Hell, and Earth.

You saw the shine of his eyes even though none of the streetlamps reached into the darkness and you knew the dreadful darkness was made even darker by him.

“Then come out if you’re so tough,” you challenged.

He was a beautiful sight, as were most demons you had encountered, but this one was different. Based on his clothing; black turtleneck underneath an equally black blazer, dark jeans, and shiny boots, he was one of the higher denizens of Hell if not a general. One you had never met at that.

“What’s your name?” you asked, not lowering the gun.

“Why would I tell you that? Just so you can banish me?”

You scoffed as you squared the gun right between his eyes from that distance.

“I told you that won’t work.”

“Yea? Maybe I have special demon killing bullets since you seem to know me so well.”

“It’s not like I can possess you.”

“But you can kill me.”

“I can ensure you that I do not want to kill you.” He held his hands up defensively.

You examined his face. His hair was pushed to the side, exposing his forehead and the smooth expanse of his skin. You noticed a few tattoos on his fingers and hands as he raised them, but you still couldn’t figure out who he was, and you usually prided yourself in knowing everyone and everything from Hell. It was the smaller demons, the ones that possessed humans, that you didn’t know. The generals and Princes of Hell didn’t lower themselves to possession unless it was someone they desperately wanted. You knew of one Pope that was possessed for his entire career.

“Are you scared, ____?” he smiled.

“I’m never scared of your kind.”

He made a face like he was hurt by your words, clutching one of his hands to his heart. You saw a crown on one of his fingers and a few other odd shapes you couldn’t make out. Who was he? Then you saw the sigil when he moved a little closer. It was a small brooch on his lapel, and you didn’t need to make out the rest when you saw the gold glint of goat horns. He was of blood in the House of Satan, but who?

“Please lower the gun?” he asked innocently. His eyes softened as he looked at you and he dropped his other hand to his side, the other still firmly planted over his heart.

For some reason your resolve deflated. Slowly, you lowered your gun and by the time it was by your side, the man wore a wide smile.

Such a pretty smile…

You shook your head, bringing up the hand still holding the gun to press the ball of your palm into your temple. Eyes screwed shut, you willed yourself to think logically.

“What are you doing to me?” Your breath came out a little more erratic than you would have liked.

He looked even more innocent, eyes almost on the verge of watering as he stepped just a little closer to you. The tension between your brows relaxed and your hand dropped once more. He looked a little more satisfied this time as he approached. The clatter of your gun hitting the stones didn’t make it to your ears. Around you, the world seemed muffled. It felt as if cotton had been stuffed into them. A passing car, a person’s laugh, and crickets sounded around you, but you were deaf to everything but him. You still heard his footfalls the closer he walked. His grin was turning up at the corners and for a second he seemed wicked and a trickle of fear ran down your spine.

“Poor little demon hunter.” His voice dropped an octave as he stuffed both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “That exorcism didn’t work. They never do.”

This time his smile was wicked, and you felt exposed. He looked at you as if you were something to eat while still exploring your face for any change in your expression. You tried to not let your emotions show. You knew exactly where this was going.

Now, he was right in front of you. Dangerously close as your chest heaved in mild panic. You felt rooted to the ground. The world was no longer muffled, it was hauntingly silent. He leaned in closer and he smelled like a freshly burned out campfire with just the slightest hint of sulphur. His cheek was a hairsbreadth away from yours when he spoke again.

“That little suicide of yours will never be redeemed. You’re too selfish for that.”

Heat flushed through your body as the panic set in. He placed his hand over your heart now, pressing into your skin as he felt your heart beat furiously in your chest.

“And I know your soul is no longer in here.”

Your mouth was dryer than a desert by this point.

“But your blood is just like mine. It sings to me and I’ve never felt that before.”

His hand slowly slid up your chest and to your neck where he let his hand lay loosely there. His skin burned hotly on yours, further providing evidence that he was more than likely higher than a general. The higher you got the hotter the fire burned.

“And I’m not so sure I like that quite yet.”

His voice contained a mild threat. You had encountered many a demon and even Satan himself, been through the circles of Hell many times, and heard the cries of those stuck in Purgatory; but this type of fear was different. You were in awe of him, but at the same time completely repelled. You weren’t interested in seeing him in his demon form any time soon either.  

His lips brushed your cheek as he turned his face. He wet his lips as he paused against your skin.

“But I’m more than willing to find out,” he breathed.

His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your body flush with a different kind of heat as your eyes fluttered shut. Why? you asked yourself. Why were you doing this? The rational part of your brain was starting to be overpowered by the irrational.

“You want to as well,” he whispered. “I can feel it in that soulless body of yours. You’re just as empty as me.”

You grabbed his wrist and he gasped at the coldness of your skin. Your eyes came open to meet his as he leaned away from you. They were no longer human, no, those baby brown eyes were now replaced with a solid black with a deep red burning within. A quick rush of wind surrounded you, enveloping you so tightly that you couldn’t breathe, your lungs constricted as you fought to take a breath, and right as your eyes started to burn, air filled your lungs as your back hit a soft surface.

You gasped for breath, enjoying the burn of oxygen flooding your lungs, before a pair of lips were on yours. He was over you and you felt an expensive silk blanket beneath your fingers. His tongue slipped passed your teeth and he moaned as he got his first taste. You dared to explore as yours brushed passed a suspiciously sharp tooth.

“Hmmm, careful,” he smiled as he pulled away from you.

He sat up, bringing you with him, and was slipping your jacket from your shoulders before you knew what was happening. He then reached for the hem of the sweater you wore underneath and pulled it up and off. Your mind could barely keep up as he examined you. His eyes focused on exactly what he was looking for. A scar. The sigil of Lucifer was burned into your skin over your heart. He ran his finger gingerly over it and you took his distraction as a chance to look around. You were sat on a large, four poster bed in an opulently decorated room. But it was so, so dark and not in just a way that you were standing outside at night, but the feeling was there as well. The shadows were omnipresent and seemed to be teeming with some dark fear. You could tell that there was a large fur rug before a roaring fire, but there seemed to be a dark gray film over everything. The only thing you could see in full color was him. He seemed to almost glow in the darkness, his alabaster skin absorbing any light it could.

“A deal’s a deal, huh?” he asked rhetorically.

He leaned down again, capturing your jaw in his palms and kissed you, inhaling deeply as he lowered you back down. He kissed hotly along your neck, suddenly desperate for more.

And you were more than willing to give it to him.

You grasped tightly at his jacket, feeling the metal of the brooch dig into your finger. He smoothly pulled the jacket off and broke away from your skin just enough to pull the last layer over his head. Blearily, you looked at him and noticed his chest was covered in tattoos, there were some runes you recognized, but beyond that you weren’t sure. They seemed to wrap underneath his arms and disappear behind him as well.

“Don’t look too close, angel,” he said as he dipped low, flicking the front clasp of your bra open, and attaching his lips to your nipple.

You moaned, chest arching, as he sucked on the sensitive nerve endings. His hand was on your stomach, fingers splayed across your skin as he pushed you further into the mattress.

Dread seeped through your bones when at the same time he was pouring warm honey into you. You were in the deepest depths of Hell. No normal human could survive here, but when you didn’t have a soul the effect wasn’t so bad. Regardless, you had feelings and right now they were so mixed that you didn’t know which way was up.

Somewhere in the mix of his wet mouth trailing across your chest to the other side, he had disposed of everything below your waist without having you notice.

Fucking demons, you thought to yourself.

His splayed hand was travelling downwards, and he was just on the crest of dipping his fingers under your hood when he stopped. He nuzzled his nose on your neck and breathed deeply.

“My sweet, little demon hunter. I’ve been wanting to taste you for so long.”

Your hips came off the bed, wanting him to touch you, but he kept his hand in place. He rose above you again, moving swiftly as he stepped off the bed.

“Up,” he demanded, motioning you to get off the bed.

He then took your place but this time he let his head hang from the bed.

“Ride by face, baby,” he said, hands reaching for your waist.

Whether he had planned this, or this was another one of his tricks, you were at perfect height.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you were the other way?”

“I want you to stand.” He was forceful as he grabbed your hips and pulled them, easily slotting you over him.

You gasped loudly as his tongue made contact with your clit. He pulled you harder against him as he sucked loudly on your clit before releasing it and laving his tongue over it. His mouth felt divine against you as you caught yourself on your hand. Your hips seemed to move on their own volition as you started to rock against him. He moaned loudly in approval the same time you looked between the two of you. With every other rock you exposed his glistening chin and strong jaw and you felt yourself getting more turned on. You ground harder against him mouth, rotating as he switched from stiffening his tongue to licking you sloppily. He sucked, licked, and moaned against you until you were shaking above him. You were on your tip toes, him chasing your pussy so that his mouth never left. You could see the prominent bulge in his jeans and you felt your mouth salivate at the prospect. Closing your eyes, toes curling as much as they could, and fingers digging into the silk, you came on his face. His moans almost matched yours as you continued to ride out your orgasm and he was licking up all your had to offer.

When your body began to shake with aftershocks and you flinched every time his tongue hit your clit, he pushed you off him. You landed on your back against the silk. He swung his legs around, stepping off the bed again and quickly disposed of his jeans. Weakly, you sat up and you physically felt your eyes bulge.

There was that wicked grin again.

“All fours,” he said, rotating his finger, demanding you turn around.

You flipped over but not fast enough for his liking as he yanked you to the edge of the bed by your ankle.

“You need to move like you want it,” he seethed between his teeth.

Your knees were almost at the edge as you got on your hands, shins and feet hanging off the edge. He ran his left hand slowly, soothingly down the middle of your back, hand creeping in your hair and you were about to lean into the touch when he grabbed your hair by the roots harshly and pulled back. At the same time, you felt the slam of his cock inside of you, and to the hilt. There was more pain right now that there was pleasure as he pulled you back against him, still holding you by your hair.

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he brought his fingers to your sensitive clit. “It’ll feel good soon.”

He cooed as you melted a little, pleasure coming back into your system as he rubbed small circles on the swollen bundle of nerves. He pulled out until he was barely in, bit down on your neck, and slammed back. Then, he started to move slowly, circling his hips every now and again to hit you a little differently while still rubbing slow circles on your clit. The skin of your shoulder burned as he bit and sucked, his sharp teeth surely leaving scars. His grip in your hair tightened as his pace quickened.

He gasped loudly as he detached his lips from your skin, eyes closed, cheek against yours as he gripped you tightly, thrusting into you faster and with more purpose.

There were so many sensations inside of you, pain, pleasure, fear, euphoria. The mix was intoxicating, and you found yourself losing yourself to him again. You were pushed over the edge and you felt a growing wetness as he pushed harder against your clit, rubbing and thrusting faster.

“Fuck, hng, ______,” he muttered as you tightened around him.

He was sweating and the slap of his hips against your ass was wet and loud, his chest seemed to stick to your back, but god was it hot.

You were slipping further and further. You wanted to beg him not to touch you, but he wouldn’t even hear you now. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and loud in your ear. His fingers dug into your scalp, skin burning as he pulled harder at your hair. His fingers, relentless, were throwing you into another orgasm that had tears streaming down your face. You no longer had the strength to hold yourself up, cry, or speak. His breath caught in his throat suddenly as he stilled, toned body rigid behind you as he came. All at once, his breath came out in a loud exhale as he moaned, body shuddering, cock still inside of you and filling you up to the brim. His cum mixed with yours, leaking out and down around his cock as he thrust a few more times. The sticky liquid dripped down your thigh and to the bed below you. After a few moments, he stopped. His chest still heaved behind you, but his hand in your hair loosened while his other wrapped around your waist. He kissed tenderly the bruises and small punctures on your shoulder, and you shivered at the contact.

“My little, demon hunter,” he breathed. “The taste of you is so sweet.”

You awoke to your alarm. Confusion settled in and you weren’t sure where you were. Pulling the covers from your face you squinted as the sun assaulted your eyes. You moaned as you rolled over, suddenly regretting the action as every muscle in your body protested. Every part of you ached in a way you had never felt before. Your neck burned and there was a slight headache between your eyes.

Was that some illusion leftover from the exorcism?

Fear, disgust, and a little of something else you didn’t want to admit washed over you as you turned to silence your alarm. Your heart stopped in your chest as your hand grazed across something cold. He had left his signature. Once again, turning the brooch in your hand, you didn’t need to examine it further to know there would be the golden goat horns.

He had been real. A demon of Hell had taken you as his own.

[hansoulo]

thread count

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Reader (gender neutral, no Y/N)

Warnings: liek… cursing? mentions of nightmares. bed sharing. the works.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: posting this at noon bc im tired of staring at it in my drafts 🤡also i recognize that star wars decided glass is called transparisteel but given that it’s a stupid ass decision i’ve elected to ignore it. enjoyyyyy :)

“No.”

“Mando-”

“No.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your rucksack dropping to the floor with a heavy thud as you flopped back onto the bed. The one, single bed.

“It’s too late to go anywhere else, alright? We’re basically stuck here. Let’s just make the best of it, okay?” He grunted at this, still standing at the doorway gripping his disintegrator rifle. “Drop the ‘tude, tin can. Could be worse,” you mumbled as you reached to wipe a hand over your face, sinking into the soft sheets.

It was kinda nice, actually. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept on a real mattress, with real pillows and blankets that didn’t feel like sandpaper. The inn owner was sweet, a wizened old woman who’d only smiled when you asked if there were any rooms available. Just the one, she had said. Down the hall.

This was ridiculous.

The Mandalorian stepped forward, closing the door with a large hand on the rusted knob. The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it was a far cry from your usual, less than ideal sleeping arrangements, so you relished in the feeling of the pillows beneath your back before propping yourself up on one elbow, eyelids already drooping as you watched him. He looked… awkward. If you had any more energy, you’d probably laugh. “I could- ” he cleared his throat, setting the rifle against the wall, “I could sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed as you reached down to pull off your boots, throwing them haphazardly into a corner. You’d helped him with the occasional bounty for years, and known him for longer than that. You could share a fucking bed. Besides, it’s not like anyone else was around to see. Minus the baby of course, but it (he? she?) didn’t really count, right? It was already sleeping. “It’ll be fine.”

“No, I’m going to just-”

“Mando,” you glared, standing up. “If you sleep on the floor, you’re gonna be even more of an ass tomorrow morning. Just do us all a favor,” you waved a hand towards the baby in its pod, “and get over yourself, alright?” You reached down to the hem of your top, tugging it above your head before you heard him make a low, distorted sound - probably a cough, but the modulator made those kinds of things hard to tell. Left in your undershirt, you crouched down to stuff the fabric - dusty and soiled from a day of travel - back in your bag. “What?”

He shifted on his feet, his helmet ducking slightly at the sight of your exposed skin. “Oh c’mon,” you groaned, your expression teasing. “You stabbed a guy with a serving fork yesterday, Mando. I don’t think this could be any worse.” If you could see underneath his helmet, you’d be willing to bet he was blushing. Funny, how that worked. How he worked.

The bedsprings creaked underneath your weight as you laid down again, pulling the blankets out from their tucked corners. The window on the other side of the room lay open, bringing in a chill that had you drawing the covers tighter around your shoulders. “Could you close the window?” you whispered, tracking the glint of beskar through half-closed eyes as he complied with your request. His armor reflected orange light - dim and flickering from a small lamp hung beside the door - before it was snuffed out by a gloved hand. You let out a quiet thanks, not bothering to fight the exhaustion dragging at your mind as he stood above you. “I’m going to sleep,” you mumbled, turning on your side to face the wall. “Do what you want.”

⫸ ——-– ⫷

Flat, white light crackled across your vision and you opened your eyes with a groan. You could hear rain beating against the windowpane, glass rattling with every new roar of thunder in a way that had goosebumps erupting across your arms. It was dark outside, inky and fogged over save for the few flashes of lightning that cast the room in sharp relief. You didn’t really mind the storm - you usually liked them - but something about the way it sounded had you on edge. It was a bitter kind of rain, unrelenting and loud and really, really cold. Bracing yourself on your hands, you lifted your head, only to knock it against the edge of something metal. “Ow what the fu-” Oh. Oh.

He hadn’t been next to you before - no, you would’ve remembered if he had - but now... now he was. Next to you. And he… had a hand on your hip and- and you were still facing away from him but you squirmed, feeling the weight of his arm on your waist, heavy and slack. No gloves. No vambrace. No pauldron. Just… the helmet. No shit, bantha-brains. The Mandalorian let out a breath, the sound low and seeping syrup in your bones. Was he still asleep? Maybe you should- “Stop moving,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your words thick with sleep. “M’just cold.” It was a half-truth. You were cold, but the fact that you were pressed up against one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy probably didn’t help either. Neither did the fingers digging into your hip. Or the arm tucked underneath your neck. Or the hand attached to said arm that was skimming across your collarbone, seemingly unaware that it was touching anything at all. He drew you in closer and you could feel his legs slotted into yours, your toes brushing the bare skin of an ankle (that didn’t belong to you) before your scattered thoughts were forced elsewhere.

“Then why’d you take off your shirt?” he mumbled. The rain pounded a rhythm in your head, lulling you down and allowing yourself to sink back into his arms. You didn’t really want to think about tomorrow morning. If things would be weird. There was a chance neither of you would remember this when you woke up, though, so it’s not like it mattered. Even if you did - if he did - you knew it was all business.

“Hm?” you said, tucking your chin and scooting back slightly. Your back met the hard planes of his chest, his skin hot and thrumming even underneath the thick material of his shirt. The man was like a fucking space heater. Ha. Space heater. Funny. You were funny. And tired. And- wait did he ask you something?

“Why take off your shirt if you’re cold?” he repeated. The last word trailed off as a palm moved across the expanse of your stomach, his thumb rubbing circles across the raised seam of your undershirt and burning the skin beneath.

“I wasn’t cold then,” you huffed, reaching a hand over his and guiding it below the thin fabric until it rested still on your sternum. A better version of you, more awake and with more critical thinking skills - with the power of thought in general - would probably kick you for using the Mandalorian like a fucking hot water bottle, but that didn’t really matter. You were cold - and exhausted and laying on a bed that was very, very comfortable - and he was warm. You couldn’t really be expected to take any responsibility for this. “Plus, the shirt was dirty,” you added, only dimly registering how your fingers laced with his, tracing battered, scar-shiny knuckles in your half-sleep. He hummed and leaned forward, the metal of his helmet rounding smooth against your hair.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he said, his breathing falling back into tandem with yours as you felt your eyes fluttering shut. “Go to sleep.”

⫸ ——-– ⫷

“Mando, wake up. Wake up, please.” Your voice was tremulous as you shook his shoulder, stretched over tight with desperation and knocking against the walls of the room. Your plea bounced back hollow, a high, unrelenting tone that made your ears ring. Everything was caving in on itself, crumbling slow and then all at once in a way that had the sweat on your temples icing over. You weren’t a child anymore. You shouldn’t have nightmares. “Please.”

He sat up quickly, a hand bolting out to the blaster tucked underneath his pillow and aiming steady at the enemy that had yet to show itself. “Is someone there?” he asked, graveled over but still frighteningly alert. A light sleeper, you supposed.

You shook your head, wet tracks crackling on your cheeks as you spoke. “No, no one. It’s fine.” He relaxed at this, setting the blaster down at his side. His palms were dry when they came up to your face, slightly calloused but still soft as they traced over the rolling tears.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you whispered, meeting the dark slit of his visor before ducking your head. “It’s nothing, I-” you sniffed, swallowing the air that was caught in your throat. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Hey,” he called out, hesitant and a bit unsure. “You okay?” You nodded, closing your eyes in an attempt to clear your vision before opening them a few moments later. The Mandalorian only stared, his helmet tilting with a cock of his head.

“Just nightmares,” you said when he remained quiet. “But they aren’t normally this bad.” The remains of a sob fragmented beneath your ribs, bubbling up in a wet cough that burned your throat. His hands came to rest at your back, flat and steady against your spine until your breathing evened. “I’m sorry,” you repeated after a few minutes.

The Mandalorian let out a quiet noise, gruff and a bit pained-sounding. “It’s okay,” he said, his fingertips pressing softly into your shoulder blades. You could only just hear him through the storm outside. “I get them too.”

You faced the beskar, gaze searching for the eyes you knew were looking at you and finding nothing but darkness. It was enough, though. To know he was looking. “You do?”

“Every night.” A beat passed before you hiccuped again, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s still late,” the Mandalorian whispered, his hands gentle as they reached around your shoulders. You let him pull the covers over you, feeling his words soak into your back. “Let’s just go to bed.”

permanent: @ah-callie @itzagoodthing @spookypym @opheliaelysia @watsonwise @damndamer0n @amarvelousmandalorian @bunnyart-blog @agirllovespasta @pascalispedro @pascalplease @coffeencontemplation @chelsfic @lesqui @javierpenaspinkshirt​ @symbiont13 @glowingpena @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @hiscyarika @lostingoogletranslate @keeper0fthestars @bobafvtt @halfwaythereroyal @starwarsiscooliguess @huliabitch​ 

[moonlightsolo]

Drunken Pursuit

pairing: the mandalorian x reader (kind of platonic, kind of not)

warnings: angst and MORE ANGST also numerous drops of the f bomb

wc: 2.6k

a/n: hope ya like it cuz i do ;)

-

The familiar robust stench wafts into your face once you open the door to the cantina you’ve grown so fond of— Stale liquor, cheap cologne and sweaty bodies.

As you slyly stalk around the bar in the middle of the room, your eyes roam the countless people drinking inside. You’re not sure if you’re looking for a particular person or an empty seat to slide into.

When a large horned humanoid stumbles away from the bar with the stench of alcohol on its body, you slip your way into the now free spot.

Your pants stick to the tacky leather stool as a bartender slides around to take your order, “One blood sour and two shots of mijura.” You slide the memorized amount of credits to the bartender and the droid begins to shake up your drinks.

It’s become a routine for you to visit this hole-in-the-wall at late hours of the night, but since you’ve finished catching your bounties for the day, you’ve decided to take a break in the daylight.

You down your drinks quicker than anyone around you, the alcohol buzzes through your veins almost instantly and clouds the nerve-endings throughout your body splendidly.

Soon you’re blindly shoving credits over the bar, the people around you buy you drinks as you do the same for them. The usually annoyingly loud music you can’t understand begins to sound like the best beat to dance to. “Come on!”

You decide to grip your neighbors wrists to pull them onto your the makeshift dance floor. You can’t help but sway your hips as your feet somehow expertly tap to the beat.

A huge obvious smile is plastered on your face as one of your new friends, grabs your hands to spin your bodies in circles playfully.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you feel confidence like no other. Shot after shot and song after song. Your stomach begins to turn and flutter uncomfortably. This is how your night usually ends.

As quickly as possible, you tug your hands away from person in front you to sprint to the bathroom. The handle jiggles but doesn’t open. Fuck, it’s locked. Someone behind the door squeals obscenities in a language you don’t understand.

The floor is your only option. Your back curls as you hunch over with your hands on your knees. Your abdomen tightens as the burning contents hurl from your stomach onto the already messy floor. You’ll have to leave a big tip.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, sniffling as you attempt to calm the tears and snot flowing down your face. “Disgusting.” You mutter to yourself.

As you hobble into the main area, you slap the rest of your pocket money onto the bar and head outside. Unfortunately it’s still quite bright outside, causing your body to seize from the sensitivity of your eyes. You blindly reach for the surface of the dome shaped exterior wall, running your fingers over the rough texture blindly.

You lean your back against the wall as the cool wind whips against your skin, calming you slightly. As you take long deep breaths and listen to the ships fly overhead, you feel a slight tug on the hem of your cargo pants.

Is your brain hallucinating now? It’s just the wind, you tell yourself.

The sensation happens once again so you gently slide your hand toward your blaster on your hip before you snap your head toward your feet. The grip on the stock of your gun loosens when you see the odd child-like creature cooing at you with their exceedingly large eyes.

It’s green and adorably fuzzy with large ears. The child is wrapped in brown fabric with a little tint of pink covering it’s cheeks and teeny nose. You notice a little black bowl sitting in it’s free hand full of some sort of liquid.

“Oh hello.” You giggle as it’s tiny arms reach up for you, now the soup is spilled onto the ground. Of course, you can’t decline the cute offer of holding such a delicate species.

Your arms swoop down to carefully pick up the baby, surprisingly heavier than you thought it would be. You can’t take your eyes off of it, a smile grows on your face as it giggles at you.

You bounce the thing on your hip like a baby, it seems to enjoy it from the coos of awe muttered at you. “Wheres your mom or dad, hm?” You tickle the child’s belly causing a small laugh to escape from their body.

Suddenly, a shadow covers the sun above as it looms over your smaller frame. Nervousness bubbles in your chest for a moment, then your motherly instinct kicks in as you hold the kid tighter to your chest.

As your eyes slowly rake up the expanse of the person in front of you— The shiny silver armor, the hidden weapons in the steel plates upon their arms, and the helmet. The T shaped pitch black visor and the same matching Beskar surface.

A mandalorian.

You instantly recognize who it is, well what it is. Your blood runs cold as you back up against the wall as far as possible, wishing the barrier would envelope your body to aid in your escape.

“Give me the kid.” The Mandalorian speaks. His tone is menacing under the voice modulator, monotone and deep.

You gulp as the child looks between you and him and continues to stay cuddled to your chest. “Why should I?” Your voice slurs slightly and you hiccup.

The statue in front of you takes a step closer, cornering you into the wall. Your eyes dart around in attempt to find ways to flee. “Don’t.” He threatens as he’s even closer to you now.

You gulp as you stare up at your own warped reflection in his eyes, “What are you going to do with it? You’re a bounty hunter... like me. How do I know you’re not going to sell the poor kid off?” Your breathing shudders when his forearm comes to press against your chest, now pinning you. He is dangerously close to your neck and his face is much too close to yours.

“He is mine. Now hand him over.” Your arms outstretch as much as you could as you refuse to look at your own reflection in his helmet. He grips the baby protectively and brings him to his chest.

A soft relieved sigh crackles from the helmet. The green thing murmurs incoherently and settles against his armor as he tucks it into a sack resting on his hip.

The tall man turns toward you once more, angry and close in proximity. “Why were you holding him? Were you trying to take him?” His voice booms as one of his hands slam next to your head.

A few drunken idiots stumble from the entrance, talking gibberish and laughing. The Mandalorian swings his head to the side to stare intensely at them as they walk by.

When the pair notices the Beskar-cladded man hovering over your shuttering body, their mouths clamp shut, eyes avert to the ground and they speed walk away.

Stars! You need to be saved. Fucking assholes.

The bounty hunter in front of you turns his attention back to you, “I-I—I promise, I was—wasn’t trying to kidnap h-him...” Your voice stutters helplessly, the alcohol doesn’t help your brain as it already is working slowly.

He glances down at the alien child who is peeking over the rim of the bag nervously, “He gr-grabbed my pant leg. He was wandering... He was wandering... by himself. Why was he by himself?” You suddenly gain confidence as you question the man.

“You’re interrogating me when your kid was wandering around by himself?” You scoff as you cross your arms over your chest, “What a great dad. You want to protect him? Well you didn’t. I could have stolen him, but at least I’m not a crazy asshole, right?” You grumble as you mumble obscenities under your breath.

The man scoffs under his helmet as he leans backward from being close to you, his arms lifts from your body. “You’ve got a point.” He grumbles in defeat, one of his gloved hands rest on the bulging sack which the child is in.

“Exactly. Now if you’d let me go, I’d appreciate it.” You go to push yourself off of the wall but your knees buckle which causes you to fly forward.

Your forehead slams against his steel chest plate, making a loud bang echo from the contact. You groan as the pain radiates through your head, your vision goes blurry as if you were drinking once again.

You stumble backward to fall, your arms reach for something sturdy to rest against but two hands grip your shoulders to steady you. Your body is slowly leaned back onto the curved wall of the building.

A sound almost like a chuckle emits from the Mandalorian, “Ouch.” You mumble as your hand goes to your forehead to feel the bump already forming under your skin.

You open your scrunched eyes to see your fingertips are lightly covered in crimson, “Is-is that blood?” You gasp softly as the man brings his hands to your head to inspect the cut. He pushes your hair from your eyes and gently peels the strands off the wet surface of your skin.

“It’s small. Might need sutured.” He sighs as he looks down at the baby who is now curious of what just happened.

“I’m assuming your system is full of alcohol which makes your blood thinner.” He grumbles, “Come on. Follow me.”

Your vision is still slightly blurry, either from your new concussion or maybe your own tears. Follow a Mandalorian? Fuck no.

“Excuse me? Follow you? How...How am I...” A new wave of dizziness overcomes your body as you stumble forward and gulp down the bile rising in your throat, “Am... I supposed to... Follow you..?”

The silver armor fades in and out of your sight, his image is distorted as you sway from side to side.

The alcohol has finally gotten to your brain, it’s your time. You’re going to die. Hitting your head on Beskar (the strongest metal in the universe) and drinking yourself into oblivion is not a good combination. Especially mixed along with your blood on your hands, it’s not one of your strengths.

His arms reach out to you to hold you steady once again, he opens your drooping eyelids to look at your dilated pupils. “You’ve got a concussion.” He lets out a sniffle as he leans in to smell your breath, obviously smelling the liquor. 

You fall forward in a slump, slamming your face against his Beskar once again. He stands there awkwardly with a random girl resting on his chest. His arms hook under your arms to drag you to the nearby alleyway. He carefully places you on the ground, sitting upright with your back against the wall.

He glances at your pockets, seeing a flashing red light through the tan fabric. He opts to fish whatever is is out. Finally gripping the disc shakes object, a tracking beacon.

“For the kid?” He mumbles with a sigh. He glances to see the blaster in your pocket.

He debates in his own head on whether or not he should leave you here or kill you. He grumbles frustratingly as the kid squeaks angrily in his pouch, “I know, I know.” He groans.

He drops the beacon to the ground then stomps on it to shatter it to pieces, the wiring sparks and with another stomp it puffs out. His hands reach down to scoop you up, throwing your drunk self over his shoulder before making his way back to the Razor Crest. He can’t help but think of how idiotic this idea is.

The stares of the passerby’s don’t make the Mandalorian nervous, rather more smug than anything. He knows his image is powerful.

Once aboard the ship, he drops you on his cot that he pulls out from the wall. He locks your limp wrists together with handcuffs so you don’t attempt to hurt anyone or escape the moving ship.

He scoops out the kid once in the cockpit, sitting him in his floating bassinet as he clicks a few buttons to ready the ship for departure. His hand grips the throttle to lift it into the sky. 

The jolt startles you awake. A loud groan falls from your lips from the splitting headache. You roll around in the bed, not realizing it’s not your own which causes you to fall onto the floor.

As you attempt to catch yourself, you realize your arms are bound together. “The fuck?!” You yelp loudly as look at your surroundings. Terror runs through your veins when you realize you’ve been abducted.

The ship hits hyper speed, causing your body to roll like a hot dog across the floor. You let out a loud screech as you kick your feet wildly in front of you so you wouldn’t ram into the wall, “Let me go right now or I will rip you to shreds!”

The stomping above your head shuts you up as the person climbs down the ladder. The beskar cladded man makes you gulp with wide eyes.

“You?” You growl as you attempt to push yourself up from the ground but you’re unsuccessful.

“You’re awake.” He stands to the side with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you struggle.

You screech through your clenched teeth as your abdominal muscles fail to pick your body off the ground. “Let me go, you fucker. I’m serious.” Your face is flushing red with anger by the second.

He chuckles as he walks toward you, planting one foot on either side of your body now standing above you. “Feisty, hm?” He presses a button on his arm to unlock the cuffs around your wrists.

The metal hisses as it drops onto the floor next to you. You scramble to your feet, standing in front of the large man with an angry face. “You took me.” You poke your finger against his chest. Your nail makes a ‘ding’ sound against the metal.

“I did.” He hums simply as he stares down at you through the same black visor.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because, why?”

“You had a bounty for the kid.”

“So you put me on the same ship with the kid?”

“Yup.”

“You make absolutely no sense, Mandalorian.” You huff as you begin to pace the belly of the ship frantically as you talk to yourself under your breath. How will you get home? Is he going to kill you? What about your life?

He chuckles under his breath, the modulator illuminates the lovely sound. No, stop. For all you know he could be a creature under all of that.

“You’re gonna stick with me for a while. I’m going to need your help. I know you’re strong. Just gotta keep the alcohol away from you.”

Your head snaps toward him with a look of bewilderment, “Stuck with you? And—and the green baby?” You almost laugh in disbelief. He’s really kidnapping you.

Mando nods his head, you can almost sense a smile on his face.

And so you do. The child and the Mandalorian slowly grow more fond of you as  as months go by- as you do with them. Sometimes, you’ll catch yourself gazing in awe at how well he takes care of his tiny elderly child. You’ll never want to leave because the irreversible attachment that has cemented them both into your heart.

Countless bounty hunts by his side, combat and capturing. Sometimes, well most of the time, you’re forced to sit on the sidelines with the kid in the Razor Crest because it’s too ‘dangerous.’ 

Of course, you’ll whine and complain, but you always have more fun with the little squirt anyway. 

After the first few months of living with them, you meet his friends along the way, Cara Dune, Greef Carga and a few others. Mando slowly opens up to you, letting you know his name and where he came from. Eventually, you find out he’s more human than you thought. Tiny bits of tanned skin peek from underneath his pile of armor when he stretches or moves; it makes you feel a certain way. (Especially, if he walks around the ship in regular clothing and only his helmet,) You’ve grown quite a fascination with his bare hands. 

Through everything, you and Din are each other’s shoulder to lean on. Even when countless people attempt to take the kid away from you both, which crushes both your hearts. Maybe, you found your own little family. The universe brought you both together for a reason; to protect the child from the Empire. If you weren’t drinking that day, or if the kid never greeted you unexpectedly—Your life wouldn’t be where it is now. You’re content and happy.

Arguments still happen though. Mando and you are both stubborn creatures. No matter how bad it gets, he will always be yours as you belong to each other unofficially.

Whether it’s platonic, or a little bit more than that...

tags: @duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania @mylifeisactuallyamess @onaheroicmission @3strogen @jupitersmoon167 @unexistant​ @kimbachan​

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (4/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 20,133

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

It was well and truly autumn. The air had a bite to it and the ground crinkled with every footstep. Everything had lost its vibrant edge and had become brown and wet and stagnant. Nothing but mud and rain and fresh crops on the produce shelves in the grocery store. The nights grew longer and the days shorter, and winter would be fast upon them.

In other words, Dani's least favorite time of year. She had long come to the conclusion that she was not built for the cold. Even now, sky overcast and gloomy, struck through with bared tree branches like black lightning, she wore a thick coat, scarf, and hat. Her boots were splattered with mud from the walk, and she would occasionally admire the way her breath steamed in the air like a cloud with every exhalation. Meanwhile, Jamie wore nothing more than a woollen jumper over her usual t-shirt and jean ensemble. Her scuffed and battered shoes looked even more worse for wear with a layer of caked dirt all up the soles.

They were digging through the illegal dump found midway down the abandoned rail line, affectionately called 'Mount Tire' by the locals. Dani had heard her mother complain about it along with other townsfolk at the annual general meeting of the Council, as though it were a dark mark on the face of the town rather than a treasure trove of objects that otherwise might have gone without a home.

From further along, Jamie made a triumphant noise, and Dani lifted her head.

"Did you find something?" Dani asked.

Jamie's reply was a series of grunts and the sound of something clattering. Dani wandered over to find her brushing off an unearthed bicycle that had seen better days.

Jamie held it propped up with both hands while she inspected it with a critical eye. "I can fix this," she said.

Dani's eyebrows rose and she gave the bike a dubious once over. "It's missing a seat."

Jamie made a dismissive sound while she crouched down to test the chain. "Damn," she swore. "This'll need replacing. Spokes are fine though. And it all looks like surface rust to me. I can fix it."

"Again," said Dani, pointing out the obvious. "There's no seat."

"Always such a Debbie downer," Jamie said even as she aimed a grin at Dani over her shoulder. She straightened. "C'mon. Let's go down to the petrol station."

"What for?" Dani asked, following along beside Jamie as she guided the bicycle with her hands, rolling it along down to the train tracks.

"Tires are flat," Jamie said, tapping one of said tires with the toe of her shoe for good measure. "Tread's fine, though. They've got free air down at the station, and I want to see how bad the damage is."

It was miles away to the gas station, but Dani didn't mind. Not when it was with Jamie. Not when their Saturday was free and they could spend their time aimlessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular. They were still talking and laughing when they arrived at the station, the bike ticking like a clock with every rotation of its old wheels.

Jamie propped the bike against the wall outside before they went in. The owner, Mr. Thompson, was wearing a baseball cap and reading a magazine inside. His head lifted when the bell attached to the door rang, but as he saw who it was that entered — not a customer, just a few kids — he swiftly lost interest. His gaze dropped back down to the magazine on the counter.

"Afternoon, Mr. Thompson," Dani greeted with a little wave.

He grunted a wordless reply, then said, "I don't do candy discounts."

Beside her, Jamie bristled. "We're not that young."

As he flicked to another page — some sort of automobile magazine with shiny cars and motorcycles splashed across it — his eyes moved up to them with a lazy sort of indifference. "You really are, kid."

There was a determined set to Jamie's jaw as she approached the counter and placed her hands on it. "I want to use your air pump outside."

"It's free, isn't it?" he said, his attention firmly back on the magazine. "Don't need to tell me you're going to use it. Just use it."

"I also want to buy some stuff to fix up a bicycle. Tire repair kit. New chain," Jamie ticked off items on her fingers. "Do you have anything that'll help clean up rust?"

Mr. Thompson was watching her now, cheek resting on one fist. "Matter of fact, I do."

"And I want to use your tools out back."

His eyebrows rose and he blinked slowly at her. "You got money to back up that mouth of yours, Miss Taylor?"

Jamie dug her hands into her pockets and pulled out a few crumpled up bills and spare bits of change. She slapped them onto the countertop. Mr. Thompson glanced down. "That's enough for a new chain and none of the others. Sorry, kid. Come back when you have more."

Slowly, Jamie deflated. She began to drag the money back into her hands from the table, but Dani stepped up beside her, rising up on her toes to better be seen. "Excuse me?"

Both of them turned to look at her.

Clearing her throat, Dani forged on. "Can we pay in something other than cash?"

Mr. Thompson's brow crinkled. Somehow he still managed to look bored despite it. "Like what?"

"Well, no offense, Mr. Thompson, but your shop -" Dani gestured around them, "- is kind of a mess. How about we clean it? Windows. Floors. Or -" she said hurriedly as he leaned back, "- we can operate the pump for anyone who comes around? That's -? That's worth something? Right?"

Glancing around the shop, he tipped back his baseball cap with the knuckle of one finger, then swiped at his nose with a thoughtful sniff. Jamie opened her mouth to say something, but Dani stood on her foot and surreptitiously shook her head. Jamie scowled but closed her mouth and kept silent. 

Finally, he waved towards the door that led to the little warehouse and service shop out back. "Brooms and cleaning equipment is back there. And for God's sake don't touch the pumps. Last thing I need is you two spilling gas all over the road."

The effect was immediate. Jamie's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she began tugging Dani towards the back room, saying, "I get the windows! I'm taller!"

"Hey!" Dani complained, but grudgingly accepted mop duties when push came to shove.

It was slow work, with very few customers to interrupt the boredom. Jamie made a game of pulling faces at Dani through the glass as she cleaned the windows from outside. Dani laughed and would pretend to descend down stairs as she walked. Mr. Thompson kept an eye on them from behind the counter, shaking his head and flipping through his magazine with a mutter under his breath, "Kids."

When a car eventually did roll up to one of the pump stations, Mr. Thompson straightened in his seat. Dani and Jamie were just about finished cleaning when Judy stepped out of her car and saw them. She hesitated, cocking her head curiously, before striding inside. As she opened the door, she kept it propped open with her hip and lifted her sunglasses so that they were perched atop her head.

"What on earth are you two doing?" she asked, looking between Jamie and Dani.

"Trading," said Dani.

"For bicycle parts," Jamie added, and she gestured with a rag towards the old bicycle leaning against the wall.

Judy aimed a questioning look at Mr. Thompson. "That right, Hunter?"

If anything, he looked a bit bashful. "Place needed cleaning, and they don't have money," he grumbled. "Didn't think there was any harm in it."

With a shrug, Judy said, "All right, then. If everyone's happy, then I'm happy. Can I get this filled up?" She pointed to her sedan. "Should only be half a tank, but I'm driving to Cedar Rapids to visit my sister tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Mr. Thompson said. He rose from his seat and ambled out to fill up the car.

Judy kept the door open for him and remained standing in the doorway. She crossed her arms. "And what are your plans for Christmas this year?" she asked Jamie.

Jamie lifted a spray bottle and squeezed some solution onto the window before wiping at the glass with the rag. "Dunno," she answered. "Same as last year. Home with Nan."

"Well, Dani's coming over to my place with her mom," Judy said, nodding towards Dani in question, who listened with a keen ear. "Why don't you and Ruth come over like you did for Thanksgiving? We usually open presents in the morning and have a big lunch."

"Oh, uh -" Jamie hesitated. She glanced through the glass at Dani, who was nodding furiously and all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. Even then, Jamie's expression was unsure. "I'll have to talk to Nan about it."

"Well, you tell Ruth to give me a call, all right?"

Jamie nodded and mumbled something that was too muffled through the glass for Dani to hear properly. Whatever it was made Judy laugh. "Oh, you're going to be trouble one day, Missy," Judy said with a good-natured chuckle.

Jamie’s only response was an impish grin.

When Mr. Thompson had finished refuelling Judy’s car, Judy approached the register to pay. As she pulled out a few bills from her wallet and handed them over, she said, “You know, you should hire the Jones’ boy. Stanley? I hear he’s looking for part time work.” 

Mr. Thompson took the money and punched in a few buttons on the register to get her change. “Shop’s fine.”

Judy took the change with a shrug. “If you say so.” And on her way out, she paused, door held open. “Don’t work them too hard, Hunter. I’ll see you girls later.”

After her car had pulled away from the station and they were left alone with Mr. Thompson once more, Dani and Jamie turned to look at him. He had returned to his place ensconced behind the till, magazine open on the countertop, hiding behind a row of confectionaries and chewing gum. When he felt their eyes upon him, he went very still, hand frozen in place as he turned the page of a new magazine. 

Sighing, he jerked his thumb to indicate the wall behind him. “Tools are in the back. Don’t hurt yourself. Especially you.” He jabbed his finger in Jamie’s direction. “Your grandmother puts the fear of God in me.”

 --

The news of it spread like wildfire across the school the moment it happened. A fight in the east wing. 

Dani and Eddie were already on their way there in search of Carson and Jamie who were late to lunch, when other students rushed past them shouting back the news. The pair exchanged a worried glance before taking off, following the clamor around the corner to where a group of kids were shouting and cheering on at a pile of indistinguishable bodies scuffling on the floor, swinging and pulling violently on each other. 

Dani’s stomach dropped, and immediately cast her eyes around in search of Jamie, worrying at her lower lip when she couldn’t spot her in the crowd. In that same moment, a group of teachers came rushing through. 

“All right, all right, settle down!” Mr. Roberts shouted, pushing his way through the crowd and pulling apart the wrestling bodies with the help of the art teacher, Mr. Keller. 

When Mr. Roberts pulled up the recognizable form of a disheveled Jamie, breathing heavy, her nose bleeding, and a righteous fury burning in her eyes that Dani hadn’t seen since that day in the back alley, Dani sucked in a sharp breath. 

Eddie sighed exasperatedly. “Again?”

“Nan’s gonna kill her,” Dani murmured, frowning in concern. When Jamie wiped at the blood pooling from her nose down to her mouth and chin with the sleeve of her shirt, wincing as she smeared it over her face, Dani winced along with her. 

It didn’t make any sense. No one had bothered Jamie since the first year she arrived at North Liberty after her fight with Roger in the stairwell. The knowledge that Jamie was perfectly capable of defending herself, and fought like a caged beast when cornered had grown widespread across the school. Dani knew. She’d seen Jamie fearlessly tackle one of the twins during a playfight session at the river where, at the time, Tommy had already stood well over a foot taller than Jamie. 

Dani took a step forward, scanning the pile of students being pulled to their feet to see who was responsible. A hand grasped her arm, pulling her to a stop. 

“Danielle,” Eddie hissed. 

Dani almost spun around to glare at him, but her eyes unexpectedly caught Jamie’s. Jamie’s eyes darted pointedly to a corner in the hallway before catching Dani’s again. Dani frowned, but Jamie only responded by pressing her mouth into a thin line and jerking her head towards the same direction, slowly being pulled away by the arm down the hall. 

With one last grimace of a smile, Dani watched her go as another teacher began dispersing the crowd. When Jamie turned a corner, Dani finally exhaled, her shoulders dropping from where they had bunched up, and she scanned the direction of the hallway where Jamie gestured towards. Stepping towards it, she was once again tugged to a stop. She looked down at her hand where Eddie’s had at some point slinked down from her forearm to her hand, holding it in a loose grip. Dani darted her eyes up at him to see that he wasn’t even paying attention, still frowning uncomfortably at the laughing kids who still loitered the hallway. 

Dani huffed. “Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I have my hand back?”

He turned to blink blankly at her, and then down at their clasped hands. “Oh,” he said, snatching his hand away, his cheeks turning pink. “Sorry.”

Dani sighed, and returned to scanning the hallway, stepping further through groups of her classmates, until she spotted a familiar figure on the ground, curled up and trembling against the lockers with their head buried in their arms. 

Dani gasped. “Carson!” She rushed towards him, kneeling on the dusty floor and pressed a hand to his shoulder, “Carson, are you okay?”

He flinched away, head jerking up to stare at her with wide watery eyes. He relaxed when he saw it was just Dani, his face crumpling in relief as he nodded and wiped his cheeks. 

Eddie kneeled on the other side of him, eyes fearful. “Are you sure? What happened?”

Risking a glance around them, there were still students being ushered away, some even staring and snickering in their direction. Dani’s stare hardened into a scowl. “Not here,” she said, pushing to her feet, holding out a hand for Carson, “Let’s go outside.”

With downcast eyes, Carson took her hand for her to help pull him up and didn’t let go as she guided both boys outside to their usual spot along the brick walls. They huddled together in a circle with their lunch bags in their laps. 

“Well?” Eddie said, his knee bouncing, wearing a worried frown. “What happened?” Carson sighed and didn’t answer. “Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Carson said, then twisted his face. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean you don’t think so? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Eddie,” Dani said, and his mouth promptly snapped shut, looking sheepish. Shaking her head, Dani returned her gaze back at Carson, the youngest O’Mara looking so unusually despondent. She shifted a little closer to him, their knees knocking together, rested a hand on his back and said softly, “It’s okay, you can tell us.”

Carson sighed again, and after a moment, he finally said, “You remember those guys I told you about?”

Dani’s heart sank, knowing immediately what he was referring to. She caught Eddie’s eyes and saw the realization slowly hit him, his face pulling into a grimace. It was only the natural state of things, when Tommy and David graduated from elementary school to the golden gates of high school, for opportunities to arise on the pecking order. With the twins gone, they had taken with them a safety net that had left their little group in peace for the past few years, and out of all of them, the ire of a particular group of the student body had zeroed in on Carson. 

“What did they do?” Dani asked. 

Carson shrugged morosely. “Calling me names again. Shoving me. Whatever.” 

“But why was Jamie there?” Eddie asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“She walks with me to lunch sometimes,” Carson said. 

Slowly, Dani softened, recalling all those moments in the past month where Jamie would rush off after the lunch bell rang, claiming to need the washroom, and arriving later at the lunchroom with Carson by her side.

The rest of the story came out of Carson gradually. Jamie not being there on time to accompany Carson to lunch. Being cornered by a group of boys in the hall, and by the time they were shoving Carson and getting aggressive, Jamie jumped into the fray. 

“And she just -!” Carson’s eyes by now were wide and fervent, “She came out of nowhere and told them to the piss off!”

“Please don’t say that in front of mom,” Eddie groaned. 

“And then, I don’t know, someone started shoving again, and suddenly they were just all fighting,” Carson said, taking a wild bite of his sandwich that he had pulled out in the middle of the story, “Oh! And then Roger jumped in — “

“Roger?” Dani and Eddie blurted in unison.

Swallowing hard, Dani leaned forward with a worried frown, “Was - was he fighting Jamie, too?”

The thought of Jamie taking on not just three, but four boys by herself sent her heart crashing, but Carson was already shaking his head before Dani even finished the question. “No! He was helping her!”

Dani blinked. Roger Simmons helping Jamie in a school fight. Maybe pigs really did fly. 

As Carson’s story began to wind down to what Dani and Eddie already knew, Dani sobered, biting at her thumb. “I think you should go to the principal and tell them what happened.”

Eddie frowned. “Why?”

“Because he was there and the fight started because they were bullying him in the first place!” 

Shifting on the concrete, Eddie hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know. It might make things worse.”

Dani huffed. “How?” 

At Eddie’s noncommittal shrug, Carson shrank back, his eyes darting between Dani and Eddie before landing back on Dani. “I didn’t mean to get Jamie in trouble, I swear,” he mumbled.

Dani sighed and grasped his hand. “You didn’t,” she said, “Jamie knew what she was getting into. But if we go to the principal’s office now and tell them what happened, she might be in less trouble if they knew she was defending you and herself.”

Nodding eagerly, Carson was already haphazardly packing away the rest of his lunch and pushing to his feet. Dani almost smiled as she followed him to stand, but the tight lines of Eddie’s mouth stopped her. 

They retreated back inside and towards the school office in silence. When they arrived, Dani immediately scanned the room for Jamie, but there was no sign of her and the office was empty. She eyed Principal Davis’ office, her brow knitted as they stepped towards Ms. Reeves. 

After a short conversation with Ms. Reeves, Carson was guided towards the principal’s office with Ms. Reeves' hand on his back. Dani balled her hand into fists and bit her lip as she watched him, his shoulders bunched and his head bowed. Beside her, Eddie was anxiously bouncing on his toes, before abruptly blurting out, “Wait - uh. Ms. Reeves?” At the sound of her name, Ms. Reeves glanced back. Eddie stood up straight, pushing his shoulders back, and said, “Can we come with him?”

Ms. Reeves sighed and gave them a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but no,” she said,

“But he’s my brother.”

Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench. “You can wait here for the rest of lunch if you’d like, but I’m afraid unless you have something important to add, you can’t go in.”

Both Dani and Eddie deflated, giving Carson one last grim smile and thumbs up that he returned with a small wave. When Ms. Reeves knocked and opened the principal’s door, Dani craned her neck for any sightings of Jamie, but all she could see were the backs of chairs populated by boys, and a stone faced Principal Davis. Carson was guided inside, and then the door was shut with a thud of finality. 

Giving them one last pointed look, Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench before retreating back to her desk, picking up the phone with a sigh. 

There was nothing more to be done except to take a seat and wait, pretending like they couldn’t hear Ms. Reeves explaining to parents that they needed to come down to the school. Dani winced, a pool of dread whirling in her stomach for the oncoming hurricane of Nan. They snacked on the remains of their lunch as they waited silently. 

When ten minutes had passed, and Carson still hadn’t made a reappearance, Eddie sighed anxiously. “He’s okay, right?”

Dani almost didn’t hear him, absentmindedly snacking on peanuts as she stared at the principal’s office door. “Yeah, if Jamie’s there, of course he is,” Dani replied. 

“God, mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?” Dani finally pulled her eyes away to frown at him.

“‘Cause I didn’t watch out for him like Tommy and David,” he said, bouncing his knee, staring at the floor, his face distressed. “Or like you and Jamie.”

Dani’s shoulders dropped and she reached out to grasp his hand, easing it out of its clenched fist to clasp their palms together. “It’s not your fault,” she said, “There was nothing we could’ve done. Jamie was just lucky to be there at the right time today.”

Eddie huffed, his mouth twisting, still visibly concerned and displeased. Dani didn’t know what else to say, she opened her mouth, hoping to find the words to comfort him, but the distinct ominous sound of a tapping cane stopped her. At the sight of a scowling Nan marching in the office, the first to arrive as if the wrath of God had lit a fire under her, Dani immediately shot upright, pulling her hand from Eddie to stand. 

Nan’s mouth thinned when she caught sight of her. She tisked, tapped Dani on the ankle with her cane, and said, “Sit.” Dani did as she was told, biting her lip as Nan stared at her, and then said, “Well? Where is the little shite?”

Swallowing hard, Dani pointed towards Principal Davis’ office. “Already in there,” she murmured. 

With a grunt, Nan didn’t even bother checking in with Ms. Reeves. She marched towards the door and knocked hard on it with her cane. “Harvey Davis, open this door before I break it open.”

The door swung open to reveal Principal Davis wearing a grim smile, just short of paling. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Heron, thank you for — “

“Shut it, and let’s get this over with,” Nan said, pushing past him in the room. Principal Davis exhaled and shut the door. 

Lunch passed quickly after that, a few other parents arrived but there was still no reappearance of Carson or either one of Eddie’s parents yet. They unwillingly shuffled off back to class where they waited out the rest of their day anxiously. Eddie was only able to finally relax when he received a note from the office telling him that Carson was taken home early by their dad, his head thunking on his desk with a loud sigh of relief. Dani chuckled at him, but she still felt worry pulling at her stomach. By the time the final bell rang, Jamie hadn’t returned to class at all, not even for the few things still remaining atop her desk. Dani took it upon herself to gather it all up and stuff them in her locker, careful to keep any loose pages wrinkle free. 

When they were outside, free from school for the weekend, walking towards the beige car that was already waiting for them by the curb a little ways down the street, Eddie looked to her with an eager expression. “Hey, do you want to sleep over this weekend? David and Tommy promised to play Dungeons and Dragons with us.”

Dani’s face twisted. “To play what?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you ages ago. You said you’d play with us.”

“Oh, I - I wanted to go to Jamie’s to see if she’s okay,” she said, grimacing, and then added, “I was gonna sleep over.”

Eddie’s face fell. “But you promised.”

Dani did remember promising, absentmindedly nodding along to the idea in the O’Mara’s basement where they had all congregated around the tv to watch the latest animated Robin Hood movie, snickering quietly to Jamie’s commentary. 

“I know,” Dani said, “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “She’s probably fine.”

“She was bleeding everywhere!”

“So? She gets hurt like every other week, it’s nothing special,” he said, scowling at the ground. 

Dani grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, her mouth thinned. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said, “I promise we can hang out soon, but Jamie’s my best friend, I can’t just not see if she’s okay.”

“I’m your best friend, too,” Eddie shot back, his face flushed and his eyes bright, and then froze, ducking his head with a timid expression, and murmured, “I just wanted to hang out.” 

Dani’s heart sank. She didn’t know what else to do or to say. She squeezed at his arm that she still held and moved to slip her hand down to his, but he pulled away with a huff. 

“It’s fine, just forget it,” he said, and continued towards the car. 

She followed after him. “Eddie,” she called out, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, resignation in his voice, not looking at her. 

Quietly, Dani worried at her lower lip and followed Eddie into the car where Mike was waiting for them. They settled into the backseat and buckled up, both visibly troubled that Mike twisted in his seat to give them an awkward consoling grin. “Hard day, huh?” Mike said, eyes darting between them. “Don’t you kids worry. Carson’s doing all right.” 

When they both silently nodded, Mike’s gaze landed on Dani. While for the most part, Dani and Mike rarely spoke more than five minutes at a time with each other, he was still always a kind and welcoming man. He gave her a tight grin and a nod. “Jamie, too. I think. Lord knows with that grandmother of hers. Never seen Davis turn that color before.” 

Dani breathed out a chuckle. 

“Ah, there it is,” he said, shaking a finger at her, “Knew that was hidden there somewhere.”

Dani ducked her head as Mike twisted back around in his seat to start the engine. As they took off down the street, Dani risked a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye to see him already staring at her. When she caught his eyes, he spun his head away sharply. Dani rolled her eyes and nudged at his feet with her own. When he didn’t respond she did it again, knocking it hard enough that there was an audible thud. He sighed and gave her a look that she returned with a grin. He huffed and turned back to the window, but Dani could still see his smile in the slant of his profile. 

When they arrived home, Eddie was the first to offer a murmured goodbye once they got out of the car. Seeing the peace offering for what it was, Dani hugged him tight and said, “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” he murmured, a dejected slump to his shoulders, before pulling away and starting towards the front door of his house where Mike was already shuffling inside. 

With the O’Mara’s front door shut, Dani was off like a shot towards her own house. Unlocking the door with her keys and shoving her way into the empty house to rush upstairs to her room and pack. 

 --

Nan gave her a withering stare when she finally opened the door to Dani’s insistent knocking. Lungs just short of burning from speed walking to the white bungalow, Dani almost shrank back when Nan arched an eyebrow, but she stood her ground and gave Nan a hesitant grin.

Breathing out sharply through her nose in what bizarrely sounded like laugh, Nan shook her head and dryly said, “Took your sweet time, did you?”

“Um.”

Nan huffed, and jerked her head towards the house. “Well, get inside. I’ve got a pot brewing already,” she said, disappearing back into the house. “And take your bloody inhaler before you pass out on my floor.”

Dani did as she was told, shuffling inside and shutting the door behind her to peel off her shoes and coat. She could hear Nan moving around in the kitchen, porcelain cups and plates clinking as Dani quickly took a puff from her inhaler, feeling better already as she stuffed it back in her bag and followed the sounds. 

Nan was already setting the table with three sets of cups and a blue tin that Dani knew held Nan’s coveted cookies, the old rickety table wobbling with every gentle movement due to its uneven legs. Dani dropped her bag in the corner of the kitchen as she scanned the rooms, not finding Jamie anywhere. “Where is she?” she asked quietly. 

“Out back working on that mess of a bike,” Nan said. 

Dani eagerly turned to make her way to the door leading to the backyard, but jerked to a stop when Nan held up the length of her cane to Dani’s stomach. She darted her eyes up towards Nan, blinking in surprise. Nan’s mouth thinned and she jerked her head to the table. “Sit,” she said in a tone of voice that brooked no room for argument.

Feeling her stomach sink, Dani spared a glance towards the back door, and followed Nan to the table, sitting opposite where she stood, stiff in her seat and her hands balled into fists in her lap. “Is she grounded?” Dani carefully asked. 

“Aye, she is,” Nan said, busy making a single cup of tea and setting up a saucer of what Dani recognized were Jamie’s favorite cookies. 

Dani waited for a moment before asking, “How long?”

“As long she needs to be,” Nan sharply replied. 

Dani sank back into her seat, biting her lip, watching as Nan set the cup of tea and saucer of cookies onto a small tray before sliding over an empty cup towards Dani. “Make your tea,” she said, her eyes so piercing that Dani slowly sat back up and reached for the pot. Nan nodded once and gathered the tray in her hand. “Wait here,” she said, and started towards the back screen door.

Straining her ears towards the backyard, Dani made her tea as silently as she could, hearing the tap of Nan’s cane and the whooshing sound of the door being pulled open, letting in a cool draft. But when all she could hear from the pair outside were muffled voices, words indistinguishable and muted, Dani huffed. For a moment, she strongly considered sneaking closer, taking advantage of her socked feet sliding against the floor, but the fear of getting caught kept her rooted to her chair.

The muffled voices abruptly grew louder. “But that’s not fair!” Jamie whined. 

“You don’t see me complaining about missing half a day’s paycheck, do you?” Nan retorted, “You sit out here, have your cuppa and biscuits, and keep your hands busy or so help me God.”

“But —”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, girl. It’s not the end of the world,” Nan said, and stomped back inside, closing the screen door shut with a hard thud. 

Wincing in sympathy, Dani could easily picture the indignant glower on Jamie’s face, her cheeks flushed and her brows deeply furrowed. 

Nan returned with a scowl, sitting in her seat opposite Dani and resting her cane on the table that wobbled slightly at the movement. Holding her cup in her hands, letting the heat warm her skin, Dani sat quietly as Nan made her own cup of tea, not knowing where to start. It wasn’t that Nan was that terribly difficult to talk to, with her shrewd eyes, endless tales of her time during both World Wars, the spite that kept her going, and a sixth sense for whenever Dani and Jamie somehow managed to find themselves doing something they shouldn't, but well — she was difficult to talk to. 

Shoving the tin of cookies towards Dani, Nan gave her a sharp look and said, “Before you get ahead of yourself, I’ve already heard the sorry tale of it.”

Dani paused, and then reached into the tin for a Jammie Dodger. “So you know it’s not her fault?” Dani tried, blinking her eyes innocently, taking a small bite of the cookie, “That she was defending herself?”

Nan snorted, pointing at her with a cookie. “Don’t try that look with me,” she said, “It may work on Judy, but it sure as hell won’t work on me.” Dani ducked her head and took a morose sip of her tea. Nan continued, “I know she was defending the O’Mara boy. But she broke her promise. Got into another fight. Got into trouble. Sure, she helped the boy, but she got nothing for it except a week's worth of detention and the threat of suspension. Again.”

Dani shrank further back in her seat, her frown deepening as she let the words sink in and ate her cookie, and finally said, “But she did though. Get something out of it, that is.” 

She looked up and caught Nan’s eye, expression unchanged save for the arch of an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What she wanted to say — that Jamie proved how much she cared, that Jamie earned a wealth of loyalty that Dani witnessed bloom in Carson’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before — all of it seemed to lodge itself in the back of her throat. Instead, she needed Nan to know the truth of it, she needed Nan to see Jamie for who she was, the importance of it pressing on her chest. 

“Jamie’s a good person,” Dani finally murmured. 

Nan’s mouth pulled tight. “Well, of course she is,” she said sharply, “She may be a bleeding pain in my arse, but she’s a far sight better than her mother and her knob of a father.”

Dani blinked. Taken aback at not only Nan’s irritation, as if annoyed that Dani reminded her of something that should’ve been obvious, but at the mention of Jamie’s parents. Parents who Jamie had never once mentioned before besides that one time during Dani’s birthday. Always shrugging off questions and changing the subject when mention of them were brought up. It felt strange, discussing something so deeply personal about Jamie, something that Jamie seemed to avoid at all costs, when she was only a few feet away out of hearing range. Dani chanced a glance behind her to where the screen door would be, fearing that any second Jamie might crack and stomp back inside. 

“Doesn’t talk much about them, does she?” Nan said, pulling back Dani’s attention. At Nan’s questioning stare, Dani quietly shook her head. Nan hummed, and then she too shook her head, leaning forward on the table, ignoring the way it shifted again, the pull of her stare so acute that Dani couldn’t blink or turn away.

“Now, you listen here. I’ll tell you exactly what I told her,” Nan said, ”She did a good thing, truly. But she went about it the wrong way, you see. There are more ways to go about things than with the end of your fist. I won’t tolerate it. Not in this house. Not again. Nothing good will ever come of it if she keeps it up. Do you understand?”

Dani was quiet for a long moment, absorbing the words, and then nodded. 

“Good,” Nan said, leaning back and taking a sip of her tea. “Figured as much. Lord knows the girl was as wild as the wind blew back in England. But ever since coming here and meeting you, she’s been mellowing in her own way, so I suppose…I suppose I should offer you my thanks for your bit in it.”

Dani’s eyes widened, a hot flush warming her cheeks and spreading across her chest. It wasn’t often Nan handed out such free praise or thanks. A pleased thrill ran down Dani’s spine, and the corners of her mouth curled into a shy smile that she hid behind her cup as she finished her tea.

Tisking, Nan took a healthy bite of a cookie. “Don’t let that get to your head. And don’t expect me to ever say that again. You both still drive me mad,” she said, and after a moment, she sighed. “And I reckon you should be getting home now before it gets too dark. Last thing I need is your mother over here.”

“Oh,” Dani murmured, and then finding her courage, she added, “Could you —  um. Could you not tell Jamie that I was here, then? I just — I don’t think she’d be happy that I was here, and she didn’t get to see me.”

Nan harrumphed. “Would serve her right,” she said with a displeased twist to her mouth.

“Please?”

Nan watched her for a long moment, expression blank save for a squared jaw, and said, “I’ll think about it.”

Dani’s mouth dared to pull into a grin. Nan huffed and stood, moving to gather her cup. Seeing this, Dani rushed out of her seat to help, gathering both her own and Nan’s cup to set in the sink. 

“Buttering me up now, eh?” Nan said, a hand on her cane and the other on her hip. When Dani merely grinned and shrugged, Nan shook her head and then abruptly paused, her eyes scrutinizing. “Did you walk all the way here?”

Nodding, Dani ducked her eyes away from the intensity of Nan’s gaze. Nan hummed again, made a gesture towards the front door and simply said, “Get your things.”

While Nan disappeared somewhere deeper in the house where the bedrooms were, Dani gathered one last cookie, her bag, and slipped back on her shoes and coat. As she waited by the door, itching to see Jamie just once before she left, Nan reappeared wearing a thick coat. Dani offered her arm for Nan to hold as she pushed her feet into a pair of boots and spared one last glance towards the back of the house, letting Nan guide her outside.

The drive home was silent between the pair, the cabin quiet besides the rickety rumble of Nan’s truck and the radio on low playing some oldies station. When Nan pulled up to Dani’s house, the skyline pink and purple in the evening twilight, she turned to thank Nan only to find her scowling towards her home. Frowning, Dani followed Nan’s gaze to look it over, seeing nothing amiss. An empty driveway, a neat lawn, porch lights off. 

“You got something to eat for dinner?” Nan abruptly asked.

Dani caught her eyes again and shrugged, vaguely recalling leftovers in the fridge. Peanut butter and bread in the cupboard. “I think so, yeah.”

“Best pop over to Judy’s then.”

Her eyes drifted away to the O’Mara’s house, recalling Eddie’s dejected face. A spark of hope lit inside her. Maybe there was still time to turn things around. Turning back to Nan, Dani nodded, and said, “Thank you for tea. And the ride home.”

Nan grunted in response, and just as Dani unbuckled her seat belt and moved to open the door, Nan’s voice stopped her. “Dani,” she said, her voice demanding attention. Dani paused as Nan gave her a look, knowing and firm. “Two days. Then you’ll see her.”

Dani nodded faintly. Two days. Two days without Jamie. An entire weekend. Almost a lifetime really. Not once in the past two years could Dani recall going more than a day without talking to or seeing Jamie. The idea of it felt almost like cutting off a limb. 

“Two days,” Dani repeated, nodding again. She could manage that, she thought, resignation settling heavy on her shoulders. What could be worse than two days?

 --

The moment Dani saw Jamie stepping foot back on the school grounds the following Monday morning, Dani nearly took her off her feet in a running hug. Jamie grunted upon impact, forced back a foot or two. 

“Ow, fuck.” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dani said, starting to remove her arms from around Jamie’s shoulders, but Jamie just laughed, pulling her back into the hug. 

“Missed you too,” Jamie said, a smile in her voice.

They stood there hugging for a good minute, giggling as they roughly rocked each other back and forth, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years instead of two days. 

“Okay, okay, let me see,” Dani finally said, pulling away to rest her hands on Jamie’s shoulders, getting a good look at her face. Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes under the scrutiny, but sure enough, her face was a discolored mess. The skin around her left eye was bruised purple and red, looking tender to the touch, and her cheek and jaw were mottled a dark purple. Dani winced and said, “You look worse than you did last time.”

“What? You don’t think it brings out the color of my eyes?”

Dani snorted and shoved her by the shoulders. Jamie allowed herself to rock back with a good-natured grin.

“Least my nose didn’t break, thank god,” Jamie said, gently prodding the bridge of her nose, knuckles also discolored, then grimaced. “Though one wanker did manage to get a grip on my braid. Felt like my scalp was gonna rip off. Had a headache all weekend.”

Dani winced again, leaning closer to get a better look, and then gently poked at her bruised cheek. At the slight touch, Jamie jerked back as though Dani had struck her. “Ow! Christ, what’s wrong with you?” she said, though there was a teasing glint in her eyes. 

Biting back a laugh, Dani poked her again, this time in the chest. “You don’t get to do that again,” she said, sobering. 

“Or what? You gonna call the sheriff on me?”

“No,” Dani said hotly, “You just — you scared me. And I’m pretty sure Nan will lock you away forever next time, so please don’t.”

Jamie’s face blanched, and then shook her head, scowling. “That old nag has it out for me, I swear.”

“She cares for you.”

Jamie gave her a look. “That right?”

“Yes,” Dani said earnestly. 

At that, Jamie’s shoulders dropped, her face softening for a moment and then she huffed. “Right. Or you were just that bored without me,” she said, smirking. 

Dani rolled her eyes. The weekend hadn’t been a complete waste in truth. Eddie had brightened immeasurably when Dani returned with only the simple explanation that Jamie was grounded. He had even managed a sympathetic grin before leading her deeper into the house. It was like any other weekend spent at the O’Mara’s, except this time there was no Jamie with her silly commentary or teasing as Dani fumbled her way through some game involving fantasy creatures and dice. It almost felt like the days before Jamie and Nan had arrived at North Liberty, except now there had been a distinct large gap of the puzzle missing. 

Before Dani could respond however, there was the sound of shoes slapping on concrete. 

“Jamie!” was all the warning they both got before Jamie was once again nearly bowled over by the slim frame of Carson. Dani laughed when Jamie swore again, hugging Carson back and laughing, ruffling his hair. 

When the bell eventually rang to signal the start of the school day, they made their way to class. There wasn’t much fanfare to Jamie’s return beyond the quiet stares and hushed whispers behind hands through the halls and during class. Jamie at this point had learned to ignore it all, sighing and rolling her eyes whenever she managed to find herself the centerpoint of gossip. Dani on the other hand had no issues with scowling back until those staring spun away. By the time lunch rolled around and they were settling in their seats in the lunchroom, Dani was in the middle of pinning a smirking Jackie with a hard stare when Carson slid next to Jamie with a large tupperware in hand. 

Jamie snorted. “Don’t tell me you brought an entire meal with you for lunch,” she said, pulling back Dani’s attention.

Shyly shaking his head, Carson pushed the container towards Jamie. “It’s for you.”

Jamie blinked. “For me?”

Nodding, Carson grinned and said, “Open it!”

A look of uncertainty crossed Jamie’s face. She caught Dani’s eyes, quirking an eyebrow, but Dani just shrugged in response, at a loss herself. Shaking her head, Jamie finally opened the container and her eyes went wide at the sight of a pile of chocolate chip cookies and a big ziploc bag of puppy chow packed inside. 

“Holy shit,” Jamie said. “This all for me?”

Biting into his sandwich, Carson nodded and grinned around a mouthful of food. Chuckling, Jamie immediately snatched up a cookie and took a bite. Dani laughed, and reached forward for one of her own. 

Jamie swiped at her hand. “Ah, haven’t you heard? These are mine,” Jamie said. Eddie snorted into his own lunch as Dani scoffed, pulling her hand back. “What? You telling me you don’t have your own stash somewhere at home?”

“No,” Dani glowered, her mouth threatening to pull into a smile. 

“We made them only for you,” Carson said.

Jamie paused, frowning. “Why?”

Growing shy again, Carson shrugged. “When mom heard what happened, she thought it would be nice if we made you some cookies.”

A grin slowly grew on Jamie’s face. “You helped make these?” she asked, gesturing with the half bitten cookie in hand. At Carson’s slow nod, her grin grew wide and she stuffed the rest of the cookie in her mouth, “Think you’ve found your future calling.” 

Carson brightened, shooting upright, but then pulled his lips between his teeth, growing visibly anxious. “I’m sorry you got in trouble.”

Jamie’s chewing slowed. “Don’t worry about it, mate,” she said, shrugging. 

Carson’s face twisted. “But, you got beat up! And detention! And grounded! And -!” he paused, pointing at Dani “ — Dani was sad you weren’t with us for the sleepover!”

Pausing, Eddie blinked at Dani. “You were?”

Warmth spread across Dani’s cheeks as all eyes turned towards her. She shrugged helplessly under their stares. 

“Well, duh,” Carson said, like it should’ve been obvious. Then he sobered again, remorse in his eyes, “But yeah, I’m — I’m sorry.”

Jamie sighed, and was silent for a long moment before meeting Carson’s eyes. “Well...have any of them bugged you since? Looked at you funny at all?” Slowly, Carson shook his head. Jamie grinned softly in response and shrugged. “Then it was worth it.”

At that, Carson’s shoulders dropped from where they were bunched to his ears, and he matched Jamie’s grin when she ruffled his hair. Even as she did so, she slid the container closer to Dani, who happily took a cookie.

“Ed?” Jamie said, smirking as she shook the container at Eddie. “Biscuit for your clearly shattered nerves last week?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that,” he mumbled for what seemed the millionth time, but eventually grinned and took a cookie, “Thanks.”

The rest of the school day passed by in a blur, happy that Jamie was back, happy that things were back to normal. 

After waiting out Jamie’s detention, they all exited the school together where Jamie jostled Carson with a wide grin and egged him on into a race towards the car. Before either of them could start a proper countdown, Jamie shoved her books into Dani’s arms and took off like a shot, laughing madly. 

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Carson shouted, shoving his own books in Eddie’s arms and ran off after her.

Dani smiled broadly and shook her head as she watched them go, juggling the books in hand. Jamie, already far ahead with her speed and jumpstart, twisted her head around to shout something back at Carson, and abruptly tripped over her own feet in the slick frozen grass and went tumbling across the ground. Dani somehow managed to wince and laugh at the same time as Carson sped past Jamie’s sprawling form, pointing and cackling before tripping himself, going flying on the grass. Even Eddie managed to double over laughing with Dani as they reached the prone pair. 

When Jamie hitched along for the ride home, Mike, who had been patiently waiting with a magazine in the car, twisted in his seat to give Jamie a grin. “Nice shiner, bud. Welcome back.”

Jamie’s shoulders straightened proudly. When Dani snorted and rolled her eyes, Jamie nudged her in the ribs, and Dani quickly nudged her back, the pair grinning wide. 

But when they arrived at the O’Mara household, a strange tension coiled at Jamie’s shoulders when they stepped inside and slipped off their shoes. Dani frowned curiously at her and the tightness of her mouth and the hard grip she had on her school books that were held together by an old brown belt, an unusual apprehension about her. When they all wandered to the kitchen where Judy already set up shop, chopping at vegetables, Jamie stood even more upright. 

“Oh, there she is!” Judy said, brightening into a smile when she caught sight of them. She left her kitchen knife on the counter and made a beeline towards Jamie. “All right, come here. Let me take a look.”

At the sound of the boys snickering, Jamie’s eyes went wide as Judy carefully framed her face with her hands, gently tilting her head side to side, Judy’s face one of concentration as she studied Jamie’s bruises. “Hmm, just as I thought,” Judy said, nodding decisively and smiled wide, resting her hands on Jamie’s shoulders. “A raging case of moxie and a heart of gold.”

Underneath the bruises, Jamie’s face went red as she blinked, the tension easing from her shoulders. Judy merely laughed, and pulled her into a hug, murmuring something that Dani couldn’t hear. Jamie stood stiff before slowly returning the hug, her arms held loose and awkward.

When Judy finally pulled away, Jamie ducked her head and murmured, “Um. Thank you, Mrs. O’Mara.” She raised her head, meeting Judy’s eyes, only to drop her gaze once more. “And for the biscuits, too.”

“I should be thanking you. Carson hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

Carson sputtered, an arm elbow deep in a bag of chips he had pulled out from a cupboard. “No, I haven’t!”  

Eddie laughed, making a grab for the bag, but Carson snatched it away just in time with a scowl.

Judy hummed, unconvinced, and turned to give Dani a knowing grin. “He even mentioned what you did, Danielle,” she said, “What you did for Jamie when she first got here.” At the mention of that old memory, of stepping between Jamie and a group of bullies before they were ever friends, Dani blushed hotly, catching Jamie’s eyes as she smirked at Dani. “So, I figured, I’d make us all something special today, just for my two brave girls.”

Jamie blinked again, seemingly frozen as Dani lit up and asked, “Lasagna?”

“Got it in one,” Judy grinned, but then sobered as she looked back at Jamie, “Just please, promise me no more fights? The twins give me enough stress as it is. Not just for the sake of my own heart, but the health of your grandmother’s?”

Jamie’s mouth twisted. “Did Nan talk to you?”

“She may have mentioned it.” Judy’s face gave away nothing. 

Jamie’s brows knitted into a slight resigned frown, and slowly she nodded. Pleased, Judy grinned again and gently nudged Jamie towards Dani with a pat to her back. “You kids go wash up and do your schoolwork, and then maybe you could come help me put the lasagna together. And — “ she sighed exasperatedly, returning to the counter “ — boys, put that away before you ruin your appetite.” 

Carson nodded eagerly as Eddie groaned, his mouth full of chips, rolling the bag up and stuffing it carelessly back into the cupboard before they both shuffled out of the kitchen. Dani snorted, shaking her head after them, and turned to see Jamie stepping quietly towards her, an odd look on her face. 

When Dani led her out of the kitchen, Jamie turned to her, her eyes filled with quiet bewilderment, and slowly asked, “What just happened?”

Dani smiled faintly, recognizing the look in Jamie’s eyes, one that Dani occasionally wore herself after long days in the O’Mara household. If there were words for it, an explanation to it all, then Dani couldn’t even begin to name or explain it, so she shrugged helplessly, grinning when Jamie rolled her eyes.

Later, as Eddie and Jamie were finishing the last of their math homework at the kitchen table, and Carson and Dani helped Judy layer massive baking pans with lasagna noodles, sauce, and various fillings, they heard the sound of the front door opening and the twins crashing in.

“Is she here?” one of them called. 

“She better be here!”

Judy pointed. “She’s here.”

Tommy and David rushed into the kitchen, and made a beeline towards Jamie.

“Oh, Christ,” Jamie groaned, already tensing her shoulders. 

Judy tisked. “Language.”

Dani laughed, a warmth settling over her as she watched the twins accost Jamie, jostling her shoulders as they proudly remarked at her bruises, comparing them to their own old fighting tokens, and demanded she tell her side of the tale. Jamie tried shoving them off, grumbling and elbowing them in the ribs, but couldn't hide her wide smile.

 --

On the day after the first snowfall of the year, Jamie insisted they go for a walk.

"Don't you have snow in England?" Dani asked.

They were sitting on the back porch of Jamie's house, jamming their feet into boots. Dani was dressed in a pink puffy jacket and swaddled up with a hat and scarf. Meanwhile Jamie had haphazardly tossed on a baggy jacket over her woollen sweater with some ragged fingerless gloves, as if that ensemble would be enough protection from the cold. Years of experience of Iowa winters told Dani that would not be the case.

"Yeah, but not like -" Jamie gestured with one of her boots towards the backyard, "- this."

The blanket of snow was deep and utterly untouched, extending beyond the treeline. The front lawn was another matter entirely. Jamie had spent the previous day shovelling a path from the sidewalk to the front steps until she was pink in the face from exertion, all while Nan watched with a waiting cup of tea in hand as Jamie's reward.

Dani squinted across the glare of sunlight that glittered across the white bank of fresh snowfall. "Not sure why this is so impressive," she said. "It happens every year, and just makes it difficult to walk everywhere."

"You love it," Jamie said.

Dani made a face. "I don’t. It's so cold. And I hate slipping on the sidewalks."

"Yeah, but it means the outdoor track days are cancelled for gym class."

At that, Dani paused. "Well. Yeah. Okay. I do like that."

"Told you." Jamie grinned and Dani rolled her eyes.

Jamie stamped her heel into the final boot, and stood, holding her hands out to Dani, who grabbed hold and allowed herself to be hauled to her feet. Jamie tugged her upright with such force, that Dani — eyes wide — lost her balance, and they went toppling over backwards off the porch into the snow with a chorus of cries and laughter and a spray of white all round.

Dani shuffled into a crouch, Jamie's body warm beneath her and shaking with laughter. "You did that on purpose!"

"I didn't! I swear!" Jamie said, and her smile was so broad it beamed almost as brightly as the sun's reflection. "This, I'm doing on purpose though."

Dani screwed up her face in confusion. "What -?"

In answer, Jamie reached to either side, grabbed two handfuls of snow, and shoved them into Dani's face and neck. A burst of icy water melted down the gap in Dani's scarf, and she shrieked, rolling off Jamie and further into the bank, limbs flailing in her attempts to escape. If this had been the twins, they would have pounced, turning it into a fight to test the trammels of time. Instead, Jamie cackled with laughter and scrambled to her feet, already bounding off towards the treeline with unwieldy steps.

"C'mon!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Shaking herself off, Dani pushed herself upright and started after her, ire singing in her teeth. She slipped and caught herself and stumbled along in Jamie’s wake. Jamie's footsteps were less dainty little impressions and more great gouges taken out of the snow, as though two tracks had been dragged from the porch and off to the trees. Jamie waited for her to catch up beneath the oak from which they had hung a tire swing the two years before. Her dark hair was struck through with snow as if it were a net of clustered stars, and her eyes sparkled. Whatever vengeance Dani had been planning to exact withered and died at the root when Jamie looked at her like that.

"Where are we going?" Dani asked.

Jamie shrugged and turned, stomping away with Dani at her side. "Dunno. Wherever we like. Don't suppose that old tire dump is still a few miles that way?"

"Probably," said Dani. "Why?"

"It's the closest thing to a hill in these parts. I was thinking if it's covered in snow, we might be able to slide down it."

The logic was sound, so Dani nodded. "All right. Are there lots of hills where you're from?"

They stepped up and onto the slightly elevated ground which indicated the train tracks. When Jamie's footing slipped, Dani grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from face-planting into the snow.

"Cheers," Jamie said, but she did not let go of Dani's hand, instead weaving their fingers together and tugging Dani straight down the abandoned track line. "Some hills, yeah. Bigger than here, by far. No mountains though. I'd love to see some honest mountains."

"We can go sometime. You know -" Dani swung their arms back and forth in an exaggerated arc. "When we learn to drive. Maybe before college."

Jamie's brow furrowed. "College? That's not old enough, is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I want to go to one out of state. Somewhere -" Dani hesitated to even voice the idea, but here, alone with Jamie, a pale sky overhead and a pale earth stretching out before her for miles in every direction, she felt brave enough to admit it. "Somewhere not here."

Jamie's gloves were scratchy against her fingers. "You mean university?" she snorted. "Christ. Never imagined myself going to one of those."

"Well, why not?" Dani asked. "Doesn't your Nan want you to go?"

"Not sure if she could afford it even if she did," said Jamie dryly. "But, nah. Not for me. After this, I'm done. Can you imagine me sitting around reading books and writing papers all day? What a laugh."

Jamie chuckled and shook her head, and a fine dusting of snow was knocked loose from the shoulders of her jacket. Dani didn't join her. She contemplated the idea — finishing school here, running off somewhere else, anywhere else, incurring the wrath of her mother, who had always insisted Danielle would go to university — and found the very notion thrilling in a way that made her feel slightly ill. She swallowed, and Jamie squeezed her hand before letting go.

The train tracks were lifted just enough that they poked up through the snow, narrow twin mounds that ran for miles and miles and ended at an old shunt that was still in operation beyond the next town's fertilizer plant. Jamie stood atop one track and walked the steel. The toe of her boots brushed away any snow atop it as she went. She held her arms outstretched to balance herself, and Dani stayed within reach so that Jamie could grab onto her shoulder should she need to regain her balance.

"What do you want to do?" Dani asked.

"Don't know. Don't care," Jamie answered. "I'll figure it out. One day at a time. What about you?"

Dani cast her mind back. She considered the question carefully. Jamie's outstretched hand tapped her on the shoulder, not out of a request for her to answer, but only because Jamie was see-sawing her arms back and forth to keep her footing without needing to hop off the track.

Eventually, Dani said, "Teach kids, maybe."

Jamie snorted, and a plume of white left her mouth like a cloud. "What? Like Mary Poppins?"

Dani could feel her own cheeks burn, and knew she must have been as pink as her puffy jacket. "No," she said primly. "Like Miss Blythe."

Miss Blythe, their new homeroom teacher this year, was young and smart and pretty. She smiled a lot, and she always wore nice skirts and flowing blouses. She remembered everyone's names, and her hair was shiny and dark when she bowed her head at her desk to read their assignments. Dani couldn't think of anyone she would like to resemble so much as Miss Blythe.

Jamie shot her a grin. "You like her, don't you?"

"Of course, I like her," said Dani. “I think she’s wonderful.”

"Not like that. You like like her."

If Dani's cheeks had been flushed before, it was nothing to the way heat flooded her face now. "I -! I do not!"

"Mhmm," said Jamie, and her grin had graduated into a fully fledged smirk now. "Sure."

Dani spluttered indignantly. "That’s not -! I don't -! Well, she's very pretty, but that's hardly -! I just think she's nice. And she always treats everyone fairly. And she - she makes you feel included, and she's so good at - Stop laughing! Jamie!"

"Aw! Poor Poppins with a crush on teacher!" Jamie laughed. "Don't let Ed hear about that. He'll be jealous."

With a huff, Dani shoved at Jamie's shoulder, and Jamie staggered off into the snow — arms pinwheeling — but didn't fall down. Jamie snickered good-naturedly and stepped back into place atop the rail to continue balancing her way down the track. "You'd make a good teacher."

Dani sucked in a lungful of icy air so fast it made her chest burn. She glanced up at Jamie, who was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. "You think so?"

"Yup," said Jamie, and for all her earlier teasing her voice now was sure and firm. She did not expand; she had only certainty. Then she added with an exaggerated shiver, "Wish we'd brought a thermos with a cuppa. Bloody freezing out here."

"I told you to bring Nan's extra scarf."

Jamie pulled a grotesque face as though she'd bitten into something rotten. "It smells like mothballs."

"Better that than be cold."

"Rather be cold than smell like pure shite."

Shaking her head, Dani reached up and unwound her own white scarf. She zipped up her jacket the rest of the way to accommodate the cold, and held the scarf out to Jamie. "Here."

Jamie blinked down at her. She lowered her arms and her steps slowed. "Really," she said. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Just take the scarf, dummy," said Dani, shaking it at her so that one of the tasselled ends trailed from her fist.

"You get cold easier than me."

"True," Dani said. "But my jacket is puffier and I also have my hat."

Reluctantly, Jamie took the scarf with a mumbled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Dani replied and began to continue on her way.

Jamie did not immediately follow. Confused, Dani turned around after a few steps to find Jamie still staring down at the scarf with an odd expression on her face, as though she didn't quite know what to do with it.

"Do you need help?" Dani asked. "Is your collarbone okay?"

At that Jamie gave a derisive snort. "Collarbone's fine. That was ages ago, anyway."

Dani frowned. She knew Jamie was stubborn. And she knew that some sub-surface injuries could ache for years. Nan was always cursing about her knee in the cold weather, after all. She herself had never broken a bone in all twelve and a half years of her life, and had only the experiences of others to go by. 

Before she could say anything else though, Jamie had begun walking along the track again, scarf stretched between her hands. “It’s just -” she lifted it round her neck “- still warm. Wasn’t really expecting -”

It happened in an instant. One moment, Jamie was balancing her way across the rail track. The next, she had slipped headlong and was writhing on the ground, gloved hands clutching her face. Dani’s eyes went wide. A splash of red sliced all across the snow. 

“Fuck!” Jamie’s shout was muffled into her palms. “Fuck!” 

“Jamie!”

Stumbling forward, Dani rushed to her side. As gently as she could, she pulled Jamie’s hands away from her face. The honed and frosted edge of the old railway track had split a broad line along Jamie’s chin and lower lip, so that the skin there had burst at the seams like the flesh of an overripe fruit. Blood dripped steadily from Jamie’s chin and the line of her jaw, splattering the ivory-coloured scarf around her neck with wine-dark splotches.

“Are you all right?” Dani asked, trembling hands still holding Jamie by the wrists. 

Jamie’s eyes were squeezed shut. She nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely peachy. Shit -!” Her tongue darted out and she hissed when the tip of it touched the gash in her lip. 

“Here.” Dani grabbed the ends of the scarf and pressed them tightly against the wound, stemming the flow of blood. 

Jamie tried to pull away. “Your scarf - It’ll get all -”

“Who cares about the scarf?” Dani said, and she wound the scarf in such a way that it could act as makeshift gauze. Even after it was tied and tethered in place, her fingers lingered against the warm skin of Jamie’s neck. She brushed her thumbs against the bluffs of Jamie’s cheeks, rubbing away a smatter of blood there. “Let’s get you home. You’ll probably need to see a doctor and get stitches.”

Jamie’s eyes were wide and she was staring up at her. The scarf bobbed as she opened and closed her mouth, but said nothing. Then she winced. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.” 

Dropping her hand to Jamie’s shoulder, Dani helped her up and guided her around so they could slowly make their way back to the house. Jamie shivered, and Dani draped her arm across her shoulders to huddle her closer, so that their hips jostled when they walked. When Jamie made a soft noise muffled by the scarf, Dani stole a glance at her profile.

“Does it hurt a lot?” she asked.

Jamie shook her head. Then after a pause she nodded in defeat. She groaned faintly. “Nan’s gonna kill me," she mumbled. "Again.” 

 --

"Danielle, slow down!"

Reluctantly Dani did as asked, her boots skidding to a walk. The street between Dani's house and the O'Mara residence was deep with snow. Christmas morning was crisp, the sky a blue so bright it almost hurt to look at. Her breath shivered on the air, and her mother's fingers were bright with the spot of an ember from a lit cigarette. Karen had a hastily wrapped present beneath one arm, while Dani carried the rest, so that she crinkled with foil paper and excitement with every step.

Dani reached the front door first and bounced on the balls of her feet until her mother arrived. Sighing, her mother flicked the cigarette into a bank of snow, where it hissed and vanished in a thread of smoke. Judy was the only person Dani knew who observed a strict ‘no smoking indoors’ policy. Not due to any health benefits, but because she complained that cigarette smoke stained the wallpaper yellow. The moment Karen stood beside her on the top step, Dani reached out to ring the doorbell only for her mother to stop her with a hand on Dani's cheek.

"Look at you. What a mess," her mother muttered, licking the pad of her thumb and using it to rub at a spot of syrup on Dani's cheek, all pink from the cold.

"Mom," Dani whined, but when Karen gave her a look she went quiet. Her nose scrunched up and she closed one eye until Karen deemed her suitable for company.

"I told you to wash your face before we left," Karen said. "Obviously I wasn't worth listening to."

"Sorry," Dani mumbled.

Lowering her hand, Karen made an abrupt gesture towards the door. Dani did not wait a second longer to push the doorbell. She could hear the two-toned chime inside followed by the sound of thudding footsteps, and then Eddie wrenched open the door. His face broke into a beaming smile when he saw who it was.

"You made it!"

"Merry Christmas," Dani said, returning his smile.

"Come on. Let's get these under the tree." Eddie reached out to take some of the presents, but froze when Karen cleared her throat pointedly. "Uh - I mean -" he pushed his glasses further up his nose and shuffled his feet. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Clayton. Won't you please come inside? My mom and dad are in the kitchen making coffee."

"Thank you," said Karen and as she stepped past him into the house, she pressed the present she was carrying into his hands.

They waited awkwardly for her to take off her boots and leave them on the towel stretched out in the foyer for just that purpose. Only when she had left did Eddie turn back to Dani, "Bad morning?" he asked.

Dani shrugged. "Not really. Just normal."

"Ah.” Eddie nodded in solemn understanding, then gave her a smile. “Okay. Here let me take those." He freed her arms of presents so Dani could take off her own boots and coat and scarf. Then he shut the door with his foot and nodded towards the living room beyond. "Let's go."

Every inch of the living room had been transformed by the addition of Christmas decorations strewn about — wreaths and holly, pine cones and tinsel, a tree that scraped the ceiling and a nativity set on the mantelpiece over the crackling fireplace. Tommy and David were already bickering over a card game, while Carson looked on, whining about not being dealt a hand. 

“C’mon,” he said. “I wanna play, too!”

“You can’t,” said Tommy, frowning down at his hand.

“But it’s better with more people! Why is it you two always do stuff alone!”

David drew a card and shrugged, sharing a secret grin with Tommy. “It’s a twin thing,” he said.

The moment Carson saw that Dani had entered the room however, his eyes lit up and he abandoned his older brothers.

“Hi!” he said, rushing forward. “Need help with those?”

Without waiting for an answer, he took what remained of the presents still in Dani’s hands and went with Eddie to place them under the tree with the mound of other presents already assembled there. Dani could see him looking over the presents she had brought for any sign of names, and when he found his own he tossed down the others in favor of shaking the box to determine its contents.

“Knock it off!” Eddie swatted the back of Carson’s head and took the present from him.

“Hey! That’s mine!” 

Carson tried to snatch the present back, but Eddie held it high above his head where Carson couldn’t reach. 

“Mom!” Carson called out towards the kitchen. “Eddie took my present!”

“Edmund, give Carson back his present!” Judy’s voice called from the other room over the murmur of adults sequestering themselves away for as long as possible before they had to face the onslaught of kids with too much sugar in their systems for ten in the morning.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie shoved the box into Carson’s chest, so that Carson grunted and had to take a step back. “Whatever,” Eddie said. “Just don’t open it before everyone else gets here.”

"Who else is coming?" Carson asked. He turned the box over a few more times and shook it, only to give up and put it beneath the tree.

"Jamie and Nan," Dani said.

"Oh! Great!" said Carson. "More presents!"

Dani glanced around towards Tommy and David, but the twins were engrossed in a way that she knew meant they wouldn't be open to intruders — especially not ones they thought were young and annoying. So, she instead said, "Monopoly?"

Eddie scratched at the side of his head, dark curls mussed beneath his fingers. "Kind of a long game to start. Don't you think?"

"Well -" said Dani, but Carson had already darted towards a wooden chest that doubled as a coffee table, opening it to pull out the Monopoly board.

"I get to be the dog!" Carson called out, yanking open the box's lid and setting up the board on the floor before the Christmas tree.

Eddie sighed, but Dani just smiled at him. She grabbed his arm and hauled him over to play a game while they waited. Dani picked the unassuming little iron token, and led the other two on a merry chase around the board. Fake paper money slowly flowed onto her side of the board, neatly tucked away in piles of descending order, whilst Eddie and Carson frowned and puzzled over how she managed it.

"You're cheating," Eddie said with narrowed eyes behind his round spectacles. "I don't know how, but you're cheating."

Dani held out her hand primly towards Carson, who was glum as he counted out bills and pressed them into her waiting palm. "I am not cheating," she said. "Carson, you've stiffed me twenty dollars."

Carson screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out at her, but handed over the final twenty that he'd slipped beneath his leg in the hopes that she wouldn't notice.

"Thank you," she said in a light sing-song tone that made Carson harrumph wordlessly in reply.

Eddie craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall. "Where are they?"

Dani glanced up from where she was dividing up her cash into their respective piles. An hour had come and gone, and still no sign of the others. As if summoned, there was a knock at the door.

"Thank god," Carson muttered, darting to his feet and scampering towards the door. "Game's over. Dani cheated."

"I didn't cheat!" she called after him, exasperated.

But Carson was already pulling open the door, and she could hear his voice floating into the living room from down the hall. "Hi, Jamie! Hi Mrs. Heron! You're late!"

"Don't just say that!" Eddie shouted. Then he shook his head and began helping Dani clean up the board. "Still don't know how you managed to get all those hotels."

"Maybe if you're nice to me, I'll tell you," Dani teased.

Going stock still, Eddie blinked at her.

"What?" Dani asked slowly.

The odd expression on his face washed away like yesterday's sunlight, and he shook his head with a huff of nervous laughter. “Nothing.” 

Briefly puzzled, she watched him place the lid back over the box and put the game away. There was movement at the edges of her vision, and when Dani looked up it was to find Nan and Jamie removing their coats and hanging them on hooks that lined the wall by the door. Jamie was brushing snow from her long hair, brow furrowed, while her other hand was balancing gifts that were expertly wrapped, not a crease or fold out of place. The gash slicing through her chin and lower lip had healed somewhat since their last fiasco — the stitches removed — but the skin around it stretched and pulled, looking reddened and angry.

Dani waved and Jamie’s expression brightened. Jamie started towards her, only for Nan to reach out and haul her back by the scruff of her neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nan said. “Shoes off. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

With an extra exaggerated roll of her eyes for good measure, Jamie leaned over to undo her laces and rid herself of her snow-dusted boots. 

Judy emerged from the kitchen. "Oh, Ruth! I'm so glad you could make it! Do you want coffee?"

Nan shook her head and began limping in her direction. "No, thank you, Judy. Just some boiled water for me should do the trick." As she went, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a ziploc bag filled with tea bags.

Judy smiled. "Sure thing. I'll stick a mug of water in the microwave for you."

Judy disappeared back into the kitchen, and Nan's expression was completely horrified. Dani watched this interaction and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Nan noticed and glowered. "Think that's funny, do you?"

Dani shook her head furiously. "No, ma'am. It's just — they don't have a kettle."

Nan sighed. "Uncivilized country." And, muttering to herself, she retreated into the kitchen after Judy to meet her fate.

Footsteps padded across the carpet and Jamie approached. "Can I put these down?" she asked, cradling a small tower of packages.

"Yeah, of course," said Eddie, darting up to help.

"Sorry we're late," Jamie said as they arranged the last of the presents beneath the tree. "Nan's fussy about wrapping. Likes everything to be perfect."

"They look really nice," Dani assured her, admiring the pristine packaging with a tilt of her head.

Jamie snorted. "Made me do that one three times. And then I had to clean up everything before we left."

"Mom!" Carson yelled, running so fast down the hall towards the kitchen that he skidded across the wooden flooring in a blur. "Mom! Everyone's here! Can we open presents now? Please?"

Jamie arched an eyebrow after him. "He always this mental during the holidays?" she asked.

"Yes," said both Dani and Eddie in unison.

"Don't see what all the fuss is about, personally."

"Well," said Eddie, drawling out the word in a thoughtful manner, "Getting new stuff is always nice."

At that, Jamie seemed a bit dubious. She scratched contemplatively at the raised pink tissue of her chin until Dani reached out to still her hand.

"You shouldn't scratch," Dani said.

Curling her fingers into a fist, Jamie dropped her own hand into her lap, looking churlish. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Still itches, though." And then her eyes skimmed over Dani’s outfit, blinking, as though now just noticing it. “Why do you look like you just jumped out of one of your mum’s catalogues?”

“Because I did,” Dani said, fighting back a sigh. “Or well, the dress did. Mom got it for me for Christmas.” 

Dani glanced down at the outfit in question, a long sleeved dark green dress with a red floral pattern by the hem and a lace neckline. It was a dress that felt more suited to warmer weather, the thin material doing next to nothing to help keep Dani warm, regardless of the white tights she wore or how warm Judy kept the house. What Dani didn’t mention was that while it wasn’t a terrible dress, she’d had a completely different outfit in mind this morning, but when she had pulled out the dress from its box, her mom had held it up to the length of Dani with such a wide pleased smile and demanded that Dani wear it in a tone the brooked no room for argument. 

Jamie scanned over the dress again, humming in contemplation, and shrugged. “Looks nice, actually,” she said, catching Dani’s eyes and giving her a grin. 

Before Dani could respond, her cheeks warm, the kitchen door opened and the parents began to filter out into the living room. The Christmas tree sparkled, casting a warm glow against Jamie's profile as she craned her neck to watch. Dani barely registered everyone else, and when Jamie turned to find her staring, Dani smiled.

With a befuddled smile of her own, Jamie asked, "What?"

Dani shrugged. "It's just nice to have you over."

"I come over here all the time."

"Yeah, but this is different."

"If you say so."

The couches and armchairs were quickly taken up by adults, while anyone under the age of eighteen was forced to continue sitting on the floor. Nan lowered herself into a chair with care, maneuvering her cup of tea and her cane. Karen perched herself idly on the arm of the couch right beside Judy, sipping on a cup of coffee. Mike sat by his wife, looking tired but content in his Argyle patterned sweater vest and matching socks.

"All right -" Judy started.

"Me first!" Carson blurted out, diving for the nearest present with his name on it.

With a grin and a rueful shake of her head, Judy motioned towards Eddie and Dani. “Just start passing everything around, won’t you?”

Nodding, Dani and Eddie reached for the presents. Dani read out the name scrawled across the wrapping paper and handed it over to Mike, who had to lean half out of the sofa to take it with a smile and a murmured, "Thanks." Carson was already ripping the paper off of a racing kit set for toy cars, but Dani set one of her own presents aside until everyone else had one in their hands. She kept her eyes on Jamie sitting next to her, as Jamie turned over a lumpy package that Dani had wrapped just earlier that morning. The expression on Jamie's face was both odd and awed, as if she couldn't quite believe that she had received presents at all. Every now and then she would dart her eyes towards Nan like she was checking to see that she was even allowed to do this, to be here, surrounded by people who liked her enough to buy her gifts.

Dani nudged Jamie's elbow with her own. "Open it," she said.

Jamie did not immediately do so. She turned the package over once more before carefully running her thumb beneath a fold in the wrapping, tearing through a scrap of tape holding the pieces together. Dani opened the present from Jamie at the same time — which was far better wrapped than her own — and the two of them blinked at each other in startled confusion when they each revealed a scarf.

"I got you one because I ruined yours," Jamie said.

"Well, I got you one because you don't have one," said Dani.

They held each other's gazes for a beat longer, until they cracked and snorted with laughter.

"Okay," Jamie said with a grin. "We're dumb."

"Funny, though," Dani replied.

Jamie shook her head, but her smile was broad as she leaned across Dani to reach for another present beneath the tree. "Hey, Ed," she said, tossing the present towards him. "This one's for you."

Eddie caught the gift. "Thanks. I wonder what it could be," he said dryly, weighing the package that was so clearly in the shape of a baseball mitt it would be impossible to mistake.

"A cricket bat, maybe," Jamie said.

Eddie made a face at her, but when he opened the gift to reveal a brand new mitt, his voice was warm when he said, "My old one is falling apart. Thanks, Jamie."

"Thank Nan. I can't afford shit."

"Language!" Nan barked, while at the same time Judy scolded, "Jamie Taylor!"

Jamie ducked her head and grimaced, reaching for another gift and handing it off to one of the twins. "Whoops," she muttered under her breath, not sounding sorry at all.

Dani shook her head but smiled. One by one the gifts were parceled out until Judy's living room floor was a mess of shredded wrapping paper and opened boxes spilling out with packing peanuts and bubble wrap. David and Tommy fought over who got to play the Mattel Electronics Football Game first. Carson had encloistered himself in a corner nearest the fireplace and was busy setting up his racing kit set with a single-minded focus, tongue between his teeth. Dani smiled at a jar labelled 'Travel Fund' that she had received from Jamie in a rucksack that already had a US flag patch sewn onto the red canvas fabric with space left for other future flags. And all of them had received a signature sweater from Judy, which was ugly beyond compare and which made Karen's face pucker up when Dani immediately pulled it on over her dress.

"Do they have to look like that?" Karen asked.

"What?" said Judy with a guileless shrug. "They're warm!"

Sighing, Karen stood and started towards the kitchen. "I'll put on another pot of coffee."

"Ruth, do you want another cup of boiling water for your tea?" Judy asked.

Nan's answering smile looked forced. "Cheers, but I'll be right."

Most of the presents had now been opened. Mike had pulled on a new pair of socks — the same gift he received every year, but which he always seemed pleased — and Eddie was fiddling with a pair of walkie talkies, trying to figure out how they worked.

"Hey, dad?" he asked. "Do we have any batteries?"

"Garage," Mike said, and Eddie went off in search, taking the walkie talkie set with him.

"Bring back some double As for me, too!" Jamie called after him. She waved with the pocket transistor radio that she'd been given by Judy and Mike, and which hadn't left her lap since she had first opened it with wide eyes.

"Yeah, sure," answered Eddie.

Dani ducked down to reach the last of the gifts hidden beneath the low-slung branches, dragging them out into the light. "This one's for -" she tilted her head and twisted the package around. "- Jamie. From Nan."

Jamie opened the gift and rolled her eyes. "A new pair of gardening gloves," she said in a deadpan voice, holding up the leather gloves. "Joy of joys."

"Ones that fit this time," said Nan, nodding. "And if you lose this pair like you did the last, you'll be paying for the next yourself."

Jamie grumbled something under her breath.

Nan sniffed. "In my day, we were thankful if a bomb didn't drop on us during Christmas."

"Oh my god. The Blitz is over, Nan. Give it a rest," Jamie groaned, but dutifully set the gloves aside atop her transistor radio.

From the couch, Judy gestured towards one of the remaining presents with the toe of her slipper. "Danielle, there's another one there for you that you missed."

"Oh." Dani turned it over to see that it was labelled for her from the O'Maras. While she opened it, beside her Jamie began pulling on every article of clothing she had received as a gift — sweater, scarf, and garden gloves — until she was wrapped up and ready to brave the elements at the drop of a hat. Dani grinned at her, but then blinked in surprise at the box beneath the wrapping paper portraying a new polaroid camera.

"Oh, wow," she breathed.

Hastily, Dani pushed aside the wrapping paper and pulled open the box. The camera was small enough to fit in both her hands. She fiddled with it, reading the instructions so she could point the camera and squint into the eyepiece at Jamie. Through the lens, Jamie's figure was slightly distorted. Jamie turned, saw the camera aimed in her direction, and waved. Dani pressed a button down, and there was a resultant click, a flash and whir, and a square slip of film was spat out by the camera. Lowering it, she tugged at the film. Its surface was greyish, the image slowly taking hold, a silhouette as faintly visible as a specter cast in watery sunlight.

"This the last one?"

Dani's head jerked up before she could watch the image fully materialize. When she saw Jamie inspecting the final present to be unwrapped, she set the camera and the square strip of film down. "Yeah. That one's from me."

Jamie's eyebrows rose. "But you already got me something," she said. She took off the gardening gloves and tugged at the scarf wound about her neck, tossing both onto the ground.

"I wanted to get you something else, too," Dani said.

Jamie stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable. In the background, Tommy had wrestled the handheld video game from his twin brother. Mike and Nan were chatting away about something boring and adult — war and history, perhaps. Judy had leaned back against the couch, neck craned so she could peer into the kitchen and say something to Karen, who was standing in the doorway with an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. Dani smiled and made a motion for Jamie to open her final gift.

Clearing her throat, Jamie began unwrapping the present, taking great pains not to rip a single section of the paper no matter how hastily wrapped in the first place. The box beneath was small, small enough to fit in Jamie's palm. Brows furrowed, she opened it and sucked in a lungful of air. The two identical necklaces entwined inside were cheap and plated, but they gleamed in the Christmas tree lights when Jamie pulled them from their box, sinuous chains pinched between thumb and forefinger.

"Why are there two?" Jamie asked.

"One for you," said Dani, reaching out and taking a necklace with a self-satisfied grin. "And one for me."

Even after Dani had put her own necklace on, Jamie remained frozen in place. The simple chain rotated slowly in place, suspended from her hand, and the half dollar piece pierced midway down the length was a match to the coin that now hung at the hollow of Dani's throat.

"Mike helped me drill the holes," Dani said proudly. "But the rest I did myself."

Jamie swallowed, her throat working, but she said nothing.

Dani frowned and said slowly, "Do you want this one instead?" She lifted the chain away from her neck with her thumb. 

Jerking as if from a reverie, Jamie shook her head. "No," she said. She cleared her throat and continued, “No, I like this one. Thank you.” 

“Dad, I can’t find them!” Eddie’s voice called from down the hall. 

Sighing, Mike pushed himself to his feet and went off to help look for batteries. “Did you check the drawer above the tool set, bud?”

“I did!” Eddie insisted. “They’re not there!”

Jamie was tugging aside her braid so she could fasten the necklace in place beneath it. Behind her, Judy leaned forward in her seat. “Jamie, I told Mike that you were working on that old bike you found.”

Glancing up at her, Jamie gave a nod that she was listening.

“And,” Judy continued, “he said you’re welcome to bring the bike around any time to work on it over here. If you need tools or spare parts, the garage is your oyster.” 

Jamie lowered her hands and the necklace was a silvery glimmer that hung down her chest, disappearing beneath the neck of her sweater. “Thanks, Mrs. O’Mara.” 

“Please. Call me Judy.”

From the sidelines, Nan lifted a finger to point threateningly at Jamie and growled, “Do not do that.”

Jamie gave Judy an apologetic grin and lifted both hands, palms up, as if in surrender. Judy laughed fondly, eyes bright as she watched Jamie resettle her braid. “Honey, you have such beautiful long hair, why didn’t you leave it open today?”

Nan snorted. “Hell would have to freeze over for that girl to leave her hair down.”

Visibly fighting back a scowl, Jamie shrugged and offered Judy a weak smile. “Just gets in the way, is all.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d let me help,” Judy said, “We could tie some of it back and tame those curls to some lovely waves like Danielle’s hair.”

At the mention of Dani’s hair, Jamie’s eyes darted to the loose blonde waves cascading over Dani’s shoulders, and both Dani and Judy laughed when Jamie failed to hide her wince. 

Meanwhile in the nearby corner, Carson threw down a piece of plastic car track in exasperation. “Jamie,” he called across the room. “Can you help me build this? It’s not working.”

“Sure. Hold up.” Seeing her chance to escape, Jamie quickly stood and wandered over to him, crouching down before the warren of track he had assembled already. “What on earth have you done?”

“I followed the instructions!” Carson whined, holding up a piece of paper.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jamie snatched the instructions from his hand, then rolled them up to lightly smack him over the head with the pages. He spluttered and slapped her hand away.

“Look at them,” Judy said to Nan while they watched Jamie help Carson set up the toy car track. “Aren’t they cute together?”

“Bit young for that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

“Well, she did defend him from all those bullies. And afterwards, Carson spoke of nothing else. It was ‘Jamie this’ and ‘Jamie that’ for a week solid.”

Jamie overheard the adults talking. She shared a befuddled look with Dani and then mimed being sick. Beside her, Carson had gone bright red, trying and failing to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, while Dani bit back a smile. 

“Gross,” Carson said under his breath.

“You can say that again,” Jamie muttered.

“Gross.” 

“That’s the spirit. Now, hand me that bit of track over there. No, no, the other one.”

Dani’s gaze dropped to the picture she had taken. She picked it up from the carpet to inspect it more closely. It had finally taken form, and she smiled at the image of Jamie’s half-hidden grin behind a big scarf, her hand bulky from the gardening gloves and blurred from movement. Tucking it away for safekeeping, Dani lifted the camera into her hands once more and pointed it in Jamie and Carson’s direction for another picture. 

Much later after lunch, still laughing at the way Nan had spooked Mike and the twins into action to clear the dining room table and clean up the dishes with just a single look and comment, Dani and the others had taken to testing out the limits of Eddie’s walkie talkies around the house. At the moment, she and Jamie were holed up in the upstairs bathroom with one set while Eddie and Carson were running around with the other.

“Can you hear me now? Over.” Eddie’s voice came through the speakers, tinny and muffled. 

“Yeah,” Dani responded, “Where are you?”

“You’re supposed to say Over,” Eddie said, “Over.”

Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling the walkie talkie in Dani’s hand close to her mouth, pressing down on Dani’s thumb that she held over the push to talk button. “Just answer the question, you tit.”

Dani snorted as Eddie grumbled on the other side. “Hold on,” he said, and then a beat passed before he said, “We’re in the garage, how about now?”

“Loud and clear, soldier,” Jamie said dryly and let go of the walkie talkie to turn to Dani with a glint in her eyes, “Y’know, I reckon this thing could even reach beyond your house. Could you imagine putting one under his bed and being able to scare the shite out of him and he wouldn’t even know you were a block away.”

Dani laughed, but said, “That’s mean.”

“Oh, come off it. You’ve thought about it.”

In truth, Dani hadn’t. While Carson had already laid claim to one half of the set much to Eddie’s annoyance, Eddie had already quietly offered Dani to share so they’d could have conversations between their houses without Dani having to come over or hog the house phone. It was a sweet offer, and a tempting one, being able to talk to Eddie whenever she wanted, but looking at Carson’s eager expression, she couldn’t bear to take away the excitement from him. 

“Nope,” Dani replied, ignoring Jamie’s dubious look, and continued, “What I am thinking about though, is if there’s any cookies left downstairs.”

Jamie’s eyes lit up just as Eddie’s voice returned. “Okay, we’re in the basement, how about now?”

Taking the walkie talkie from Dani, Jamie said, “Perfectly. Are Tweedledee and Tweedledum down there yet?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied.

“Ask them if they’ve eaten all the biscuits yet.”

“Biscuits?”

Jamie huffed. “Cookies,” she said, then pulled her finger off the button to mutter, “Christ's sake, you Yanks.”

Snorting again, Dani gave Jamie a curious look, but Jamie just grinned at her until Eddie finally responded, “They said no, but they laughed so I’m not really sure.”

“Means they probably left the shite kind,” Jamie said, “Doesn’t matter, I’ve got a plan. Dani’s gonna run down to grab us a plate, and I’m gonna sneak out to her house to see if this thing can reach there.”

Dani’s eyes went wide.

“Roger that, over and out,” Eddie said, and then there was silence.

“Jamie,” Dani hissed, “Nan will kill you.”

The look Jamie gave her was exasperated. “You’d think she’d done it by now after everything, yeah?”

That made Dani pause, recollecting all the moments when she was sure Nan was about to pop a blood vessel, but never once did anything more beyond a light thwack on the head with her hand or on the ankle with her cane.

Seeing the realization creep onto Dani’s face, Jamie grinned. “See? Won’t take but a minute,” she said, already rushing out the bathroom door. 

“Wear a jacket,” Dani called out, and in response, Jamie grinned and saluted her with two fingers before disappearing. 

Sighing, Dani waited a minute to give Jamie the time to sneak out without making too big of a scene and then finally descended the stairs. When she reached the ground floor with no Jamie in sight, Dani carefully peeked into the living room to see that all of the adults were none the wiser, Christmas music playing on low as they talked and laughed, the tv playing some movie on mute. The only thing that was curious, was that her mom was missing. Shrugging, Dani ventured off to the kitchen. 

True to word, there were cookies left, and just as Jamie had said, they were the kind that would always be left for last on the plate or in the tin. But cookies were cookies, so Dani began helping herself pile some on a plate for the four of them, and just as she decided that some milk would do nicely to go with it, her mother wandered into the kitchen from the back door. Her hand jerked back from the fridge door handle when her mother caught sight of her and the plate of cookies on the counter. 

“Cookies? Danielle, you just had a big lunch,” Karen said, stepping closer with a near empty glass of wine in hand, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and smelling strong of fresh cigarette smoke. 

Dani shrugged, and murmured, “We wanted snacks.”

Her mother sighed, a hand on her hip, her eyes darting over Dani’s sweater. Dani looked away, shying away from her mother’s scrutiny, her shoulders bunching up. “Are you going to wear that all day?” Karen asked. “It’s covering up your pretty dress.”

“I like it,” Dani said, chancing a glance up at her mother to see her mouth slowly twist into a displeased frown. Dani quickly added, “It’s warm, and-and it’s a little cold, so I thought — “

“Danielle, if you didn’t like the dress, all you had to do was say so,” Karen said, her voice sharp, taking another step closer. 

Dani blinked up at her, taking a step back until she was pressing against the counter. “I didn’t — I didn’t say that,” Dani murmured, her hands clenched into fists. “I like it. It’s just cold.”

Gradually, the firm lines of her mother’s face cleared until she was staring down at Dani with a near unrecognizable expression. Her mother glanced down at the glass in her hand for a moment before slowly holding it out to Dani. Frowning, Dani looked down at it. Dark red wine swirled in the glass, just only a mouthful left. She had lost track by now since escaping deeper into the house with the others; she couldn’t tell if this was the third glass after the first two Dani counted her mother having during lunch, or if this was somewhere in the realm of the fourth or fifth. 

Dani glanced back up to give her mother a questioning look. “Try it,” Karen said, gesturing with the glass. The wine swirled dangerously near the lip of the glass. “Just a sip.”

Hesitantly, Dani unclenched one fist and reached out to the glass, slowly taking it from her mother’s grasp. She swallowed hard, staring down at the ominous burgundy liquid, and darted her eyes back up to her mother for any sharp glint in her eyes, any tension to the corners of her mouth, any clue to see if this was some trick, some test. But her mother only breathed out a laugh and murmured, “Go on.”

Taking a second to gather her courage, Dani lifted the glass to her mouth and took a small sip, and almost immediately twisted up her face. It was bitter, settling heavy and thick on her tongue even as she swallowed it down. Her mom laughed at the expression on her face as Dani pushed the glass back in her hand, wine still remaining at the bottom. 

Dani wiped her mouth as though the motion could remove the sour taste in her mouth. Her mom stepped away, still laughing and lifting a finger from the glass to point at Dani. “Consider yourself lucky,” she said, “The first drink my father ever let me try was scotch when I was nine. Now that burned.”

That made Dani pause, staring at her mom as she downed the rest of the wine with ease. It wasn’t often her mother spoke of Dani’s grandfather. “He always used to do that,” Karen said, a rueful look in her glassy eyes, “He was always such a sweet man when he was drinking, like it was the only way he knew how to show affection. But when he was sober though —” her mother chuckled, a short bitter thing “ — that was an entirely different story.”

Dani stood frozen, watching her mother swallow thickly and clear her throat, opening a cabinet to pull out a bottle of wine. An uncomfortable churning began in Dani’s stomach, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the sip of wine she tasted, or from watching her mother pour herself another glass, more than she had in previous drinks. As though sensing Dani’s discomfort, her mother stared at her, resting the bottle on the kitchen table with a heavy ominous thud.

“Don’t you start,” Karen said, her eyes suddenly and inexplicably hardened. 

“Start what?” Dani asked, her eyes darting up to her mother’s, curling further into the hunch of her shoulders. She hadn’t done anything beyond stare at the wine with some measure of concern, but at the sight of mother’s face shadowed with a severe frown, Dani knew immediately that she had misstepped somewhere over the course of the day. 

“You think I haven’t seen your little looks all day? Counting? Judging?”

Dani could hear it then, the slight slur to her mother’s voice. Could see it in her piercing glassy eyes. Could feel it in the way her mother stepped closer again, her shoulders tense and feet moving with purpose. The urge to run struck Dani hard in the chest, but she remained frozen, pressing back harder into the counter behind her as her mother loomed over her.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t doing anything,” Dani stuttered, her heart crashing against her ribs. 

Karen scoffed. “No? So, I imagined it then. Like a fool.”

“N-no, I — “ Unable to look her mother in the eyes anymore, Dani bowed her head to stare at the ground, her feet so small compared to her mother’s stocking covered pair. 

“You couldn’t give me just this one day, Danielle,” Karen said, “You know how hard Christmas can be for me.”

Dani nodded, words trapped in her throat. Her mother exhaled sharply. “You always have to do this, don’t you?” Karen said, her voice low and acrid with strained bitterness. “First with the sweater, and now this.”

The words seemed to wrap around Dani’s heart and clench painfully tight until a dull but deep ache spread across her chest, leaving her throat thick and her eyes burning. Any cheer or joy Dani had managed to revel in throughout the day seemed to slip away and vanish like a cloud of smoke. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally murmured, “I won’t do it again.”

Her mother scoffed again, and just when it felt like she was about to say something else, there was a distinct tapping sound nearing the kitchen. Her mother paused, and after what felt like an eternity, Dani watched her feet step away with a sigh. All at once it felt like Dani could breathe again. She glanced up as the tapping cane came closer, and fiddled with the cookies on the plate. 

“Ruth,” Karen said, her voice sounding so clear, as if nothing had just transpired, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

Dani reached for a cookie and bit into it, with nothing else to distract her from the roiling in her stomach and the thickness in her throat. 

“None for me, thank you,” Nan said, stepping towards the sink, “Afraid I’ve damned myself to another cup of microwaved tea. Dani, be a dear and fetch me the milk.”

At the sound of her name — her preferred name — Dani jumped, twisting around to blink at Nan who was already busy filling her cup with water from the tap. Dani stared, frozen for a moment before jumping into action, setting down her cookie to pull out the carton of milk from the fridge without looking in her mother’s direction. After a moment of contemplation as Nan heated up her mug in the microwave, Dani helped herself and poured the glass of milk she had wanted for the cookies in the first place, a noticeable tremble in her hands. 

With nothing more to do, Dani stood there staring at the glass, the room eerily silent save for the buzzing hum of the microwave, until — 

“Dani,” Nan said. Jerking just slightly out of her reverie, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes darted to Nan who was watching her steadily, soft around the edges and so unfamiliar that Dani could do nothing but blink. Nan gestured her head towards the kitchen entrance, and murmured, “They’re all waiting for you downstairs, love.”

Dani nodded, biting her lip hard at the unrelenting feeling of her mother’s piercing gaze on her back. She picked up the plate and glass of milk and slowly made her way out of the room, her head ducked. In between the moments of taking her leave from the kitchen and gradually making her way down the stairs towards the basement, Dani’s heart settled and she managed to push down the lump in her throat, but the ache in her chest remained. 

When she reached downstairs, the room packed with mismatched furniture and a tv in the corner that was surrounded by the boys arguing over which program or movie to watch, there was Jamie, laughing brightly with her cheeks flushed red and her hair cluttered in a starburst of melting snow. But when Jamie turned, catching her eyes, instead of a smile Dani expected, victorious from her quick jaunt outside, Jamie frowned and started towards her. 

“You all right?” Jamie asked, her eyes darting between Dani’s. 

Dani nodded, her mouth pulling into a smile. “Yeah, of course,” she said, and held up the plate for Jamie to see, “These cookies just really suck.”

Jamie glanced down at the plate before returning her gaze to Dani, arching a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“Seriously, I think there’s raisins in them,” Dani added. Pulling her mouth into a thin line, Jamie took the plate and glass from her hand to set them on a nearby table. Dani frowned. “Hey, wha — “ 

“C’mon,” Jamie said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards the stairs. “I want to show you something.”

Dani’s stomach twisted. “Jamie — “

“S’alright,” Jamie said, turning to grin at her, her eyes soft. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Slowly, Dani’s mouth shut, Jamie’s cold hand squeezing her own in a careful grip. Dani couldn’t help but match Jamie’s grin and follow her back up the stairs, the pull of her hand insistent but gentle as she guided Dani up to the second floor towards a window on the landing that overlooked the backyard. 

“C’mon, take a look,” Jamie said, leaning against the windowsill with a smile over her shoulder at Dani, their hands still clasped.

Shooting Jamie a puzzled grin, Dani stood next to her to look out the window, and felt her breath catch in her chest. Outside, flurries of white gently floated down from the sky in a dance to unheard music. 

“Pretty, right?” Jamie asked, her voice unusually soft. Dani nodded, her eyes wide as she stared up at the sky, the sound of Christmas music muffled through the floor. And then, Jamie carefully said, “Dunno why it seemed like you just went through the ringer in the minute I was outside, but I felt like this could cheer you up a bit.”

Dani squeezed the hand in her own, feeling the ghost of the pressure returned. “It did,” Dani said softly, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jamie murmured, and then added, “You wanna come over soon? Escape your mum for a bit? We could eat leftovers ‘til we’re sick and make Nan watch White Christmas again? She may actually try to kill us this time, but worth the risk.” 

Dani laughed, feeling an inexplicable lightness to her shoulders and chest, the aching pressure gone. Dani turned to catch Jamie’s eyes, only to see that Jamie was already staring at her with a pleased grin. “Yeah, I’d love to,” Dani said, her smile wide, and Jamie’s hand warm in her own.

 --

The first thing Jamie said when she opened the door was, "You've got to help me."

Dani blinked in surprise. She stood, dumb-struck, on Jamie's front step with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Night was already swiftly descending even though it was only six in the evening. Behind her headlights like a pair of eyes flashed through the gloom against the windows as her mother's car pulled away from the curb, where moments before Dani had hopped out and trotted up to Jamie's house without a backward glance. Dani glanced down to where Jamie's fist was clenched around a pair of kitchen scissors, spotted with rust.

"What -?" she asked, and had barely enough time to toe off her snow-struck shoes before Jamie was grabbing her by the wrist and hauling her inside, shutting the door with a kick of her socked foot.

"Shh! Keep it down!" Jamie hissed.

Her head whipped around to see if anyone had heard them, but the living room was empty and there were no tell-tale sounds of the tap of a walking stick down the hall or in the kitchen. Her hair was uncharacteristically down, Dani noticed. Long and auburn-dark as autumn leaves, curled from all its time spent coiled up in a braid.

"Okay," Jamie whispered, "We're clear. Follow me."

Dani made an abortive noise in the back of her throat, but tamped it down as Jamie tightened her hold on her hand. They scurried through the house like thieves. Jamie led them on a circuitous route around the furniture, as though stalking a beast through the jungle. The tops of their heads peeped out over the cushions of a green couch with a lacy throw draped across its back like delicate snow. With a final dart down the hall, their footsteps muffled by the carpet bearing tea stains and cigarette burns — tea stains from Jamie, cigarette burns from the previous owner — they made it to the spare half bathroom, which had no shower. Jamie locked the door behind them with careful precision, so that the sound was only the lightest of clicks against the brass knob.

"What's happening?" Dani asked, voice hushed in the dark.

Jamie only flicked on the light when she had grabbed a towel from the rack and pressed it up against the bottom of the door to keep as much light from leaking out as possible. Then, she rounded on Dani and held up the scissors. "I need you to cut my hair."

"Is that it?" Dani asked, straightening her spine.

Jamie made a motion for Dani to keep her voice down. "She'll hear you!"

Rolling her eyes, Dani nevertheless gamely kept her voice to a low murmur, "Why doesn't Nan just take you to the hairdresser in town?"

"She did! Look!" Jamie pointed at her own hair, which admittedly did look to be an inch or so shorter than when Dani had seen her last.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Everything!" Jamie hissed. "I wanted it all off, but Nan said no! And the barber refused to take the money I tried to give her when Nan wasn’t looking! Fucking coward.”

"And you want me to do it instead?" Dani asked. "So I can face Nan's wrath? No way!"

"She won't hurt a child!" Jamie said. Then after a moment, she added, "Much. Anyway, she likes you. Way more than she likes me."

"Now, that's not true."

"Inn'it though?" Jamie said, narrowing her eyes and nodding as though they both knew the answer to that rhetorical question.

"It's not!" Dani insisted.

Through the door, they could hear a distant cough. Both of them froze, deer in the headlights, trapped in a looming, luminous stare. There followed a shuffling as if of someone shifting their weight atop bed springs, and the papery turning of a page. When it became clear that Nan wasn't coming to investigate, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"If you're not going to help me, then I'll just do it myself," said Jamie, already grabbing hold of her own hair and lifting the scissors.

With a groan, Dani dropped her overnight bag to the peeling linoleum floor. She held out her hand. "Give me the scissors."

"Oh, hell yes," Jamie breathed.

Scissors in hand, Dani directed Jamie to sit atop the scarred wooden toilet seat. Jamie eagerly complied, facing away from her so that Dani could have easy access. For a moment Dani hesitated. She reached out and touched Jamie's long hair, combing her fingers through the wild tangle of dark untamable curls. It was, she realised with an odd thread of excitement weaving a warm path through her chest, the first time she had ever touched Jamie's hair like this. When she dragged her fingernails lightly along Jamie's scalp, Jamie's shoulders relaxed and she swayed back into Dani's hand with a soft sound.

Dani withdrew her hand as though scalded. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"S'alright," Jamie said without turning around. "Feels nice. You can touch my hair."

"Yeah?"

Now, Jamie did turn her head, angled just enough so that Dani could see her roll her eyes. "How else are you supposed to cut it? Christ. You are thick sometimes."

Dani flicked the back of her head as revenge. Jamie flinched from the contact, but Dani could hear her laugh quietly, could catch a glimpse of her smile.

"Go on, then," Jamie said, squaring her shoulders once more as though readying herself for a march into battle. "Do it."

Carefully, taking her time so that Jamie could back out if she wanted, Dani pulled around as much of her hair as she could so that it draped down Jamie's back. "You're going to owe me big time for this," Dani muttered as she worked.

"Name the price."

"I want the good pillow tonight," Dani said. Jamie's bedroom was small and cramped and there were no other spare rooms in the house, so every time Dani stayed over it always ended up with the two of them crammed together on Jamie's narrow mattress, where one of them — usually Dani — was inevitably stuck with a lumpy pillow from the couch.

"Done," Jamie agreed without a hint of hesitation.

“All right,” Dani said. She steadied herself with a deep breath and placed the flat of the closed scissor blade against Jamie’s shoulder. “Here?”

“Shorter.”

Dani dragged the scissors up a few inches higher. “Here?”

“Shorter.” 

Swallowing down her nerves, Dani lifted the scissors so that they hovered over the back of Jamie’s neck just below the base of her skull. “Here?” 

Jamie nodded, her head bumping gently against the scissors. “Yeah. Perfect.” 

“All right,” Dani repeated. She opened the scissors and held them in place so that a good portion of Jamie’s long hair was folded across the sharp edges of the blades. Still, she did not cut. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“Hurry up,” Jamie said and she cast a furtive glance towards the door. “She could come any second.”

And, taking her life into her own hands, Dani squeezed the scissors shut. The first section of Jamie’s hair fell away like a curtain with a single clean snip. As if watching herself perform the deed from out of her own body with a kind of dull horror, Dani continued along — two more great big cuts in a horizontal line — until Jamie’s curls brushed the back of her neck and no further.

“Is that -?” Dani lowered the scissors. “Is that what you wanted?”

One of Jamie’s hands reached up and she felt at her own hair with a silent wonder. 

“Jamie,” Dani breathed nervously. “Please, tell me that it’s all right.”

There was no mirror in this bathroom. Indeed, the only mirror in the whole house was a small rectangle of reflective glass in the bathroom with only a shower over a bath adjoining Nan’s room further down the hall. And there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they would be braving that tonight. 

Jamie turned around so that she sat facing Dani, and she beamed up at her. “Perfect,” Jamie said. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

The creak of bed springs, and the tap of a cane, and both of their eyes widened.

“Shit,” Jamie hissed, leaping off the toilet so she could lift the lid and begin shoving hair into the bowl. “Help me hide the evidence!”

“Hide the evidence?” Dani repeated incredulously. “You think she’s not going to notice?”

Even so, Dani scrambled to help, while they continued whispering and hissing at one another like a pair of angry geese. Except Jamie was wearing the biggest smile on her face, one Dani could not hope but mirror, and biting her lip as they tried to stifle their giggles and flush the toilet quickly enough. 

There was a knock on the door, and Nan’s suspicious voice from the other side, “What are you two up to this time?” 

Stuffing the pair of scissors under her sweater even though the door hadn’t opened, Dani straightened, Jamie’s shoulder and elbow jostling her own, and they both chorused in unison, “Nothing!”

[darkisrising]

Five Times, by DarkIsRising, pt 3(pt2)

parts 1&2 on ao3 (now with a shiny new title!) part 3 (pt1) here

So this part is nsfw/explicit. Just FYI

Five Times Din and Luke Met (and one time they never parted)

The alley leads to a street and then they are passing through another alley.

When they finally emerge they are in a part of Mos Eisley that Luke has seldom been in. Here there is a thrum of danger in the air and a spill of blood in the sand. 

Even at high noon there are drunks staggering about, the flash of blaster fire settling scores, and sex workers plying their wares from shaded alcoves.

Luke isn’t afraid to have been brought here, not when he is more than capable of defending himself, but he is surprised. They stop at a door and Luke can read from the sign posted on it in seven different languages that it’s the sort of place that rents by the hour. There is a Zabrak working the front desk behind a blaster-proof shield. His horned head doesn’t so much as raise from the holodrama he’s watching as he growls out: “Rates are on the wall.”

Oh, kark. This is really happening.

“I can— “ Luke starts, reaching toward his belt but is stopped by a gloved hand in his wrist.

“Save your money,” the Madalorian says, voice even as it ever is. If his feelings are rolling through him in a dizzying blob of want and nerves and shock and anticipation like Luke’s are he certainly doesn’t sound like it. “I’ll take care of it. I’m about to come into some credits soon.”

Luke’s laugh comes out airy, high, and maybe with a touch of hysteria. It only makes this whole situation more unbelievable—more ridiculous and mind blowing and exciting—that his own bounty is going to be paying for…. Well. Whatever it is that they are going to be doing here. Together.

The Mandalorian lays out a handful of coin with a clack and then also points to a barrier and a packet of lube in a display behind the desk, right next to the tiny sewing kits and the individually wrapped bacta plasters.

“Have fun,” the Zabark deadpans as he powers down the shield enough to pass over the stuff. His yellow eyes barely flicker to Luke before he’s drawn back to his holodrama. Still it’s enough for Luke’s cheeks to ignite in a blush that threatens to turn supernova.

But then there’s a gloved hand on his shoulder pushing him through the hall to a room that he opens with a swipe card and all the blood that had been warming his face spills into his belly.

“So, what should I call you?” Luke asks through a mouth gone dry at the sound of the door to their rented room whooshing shut.

“Mando works.”

And Luke doesn’t know what he was expecting, exactly, but somehow he’s disappointed. But then the Mandalorian—Mando—brings his hands up and the breath dissolves in Luke’s lungs so fast it’s like he’s been spaced as the beskar on one of Mando’s forearms is stripped away by a capable hand. Once that’s done Mando works a black and tan glove off to reveal the pale skin of fingers that may very well have lived a lifetime hidden away behind leather.

Luke’s chin is caught between two fingers that are soft and human. His face is tilted up to meet his own reflection in the sharp lines of a silver helmet. A thumb strokes the dimple in his chin and he can’t see Mando’s eyes but he knows he’s being examined. Probably taking in the blue of Luke’s eyes because, really, that is the most remarkable thing about his face and so that’s usually where moments like this go.

“Pretty,” Mando finally says and it’s not quite a compliment, more like he’s stating a fact. The thumb moves up to rest against Luke’s bottom lip, which is as close to a kiss as they are likely to share, so Luke decides to make the most of it.

Opening his mouth, Luke takes Mando’s thumb into his mouth. He can taste traces of leather and the faintest tang of sweat when he swirls his tongue around the warm press of it. He can taste it even better when he sucks sharply, letting his cheeks hollow, and when Mando pulls his hand away he lets it go with a wet pop.

“Well, Mando,” Luke says with a brash smile, the one that can make even Han go pale over what fresh disaster Luke is about to get himself involved in. “How do you want to do this?”

“Take off your clothes. Get on the bed.”

There is absolutely no reason those dispassionate words, warped and clipped by a voice mod, should be as sexy as they are, and yet Luke is punched in the solar plexus by what they do to him. Mando turns away to slide the disruptor rifle he’s been wearing strapped to his back off his shoulder and leans it against the wall before removing the rest of his weaponry.

Maybe not all of his weaponry, since Luke has no idea how many the other man is wearing, but there is an arsenal accumulating steadily on the wobbly, three-legged side table. By comparison the single lightsaber that hangs from Luke’s belt is almost laughable, but he takes off his poncho and sets it carefully in the folds where Mando won't be able to see it on the off chance he is some kind of expert on the weapons of nearly-extinct sects of galactic protectors.

The rest of Luke’s clothes come off quickly, and it must say something about his eagerness that Luke is naked while Mando is still finding more weapons to remove. Sitting on the edge of the bed he waits, trying not to swing his legs impatiently.

“Here,” Mando says, tossing the foil-edged lube packet without so much as looking in his direction. Luke catches it easily. “Open yourself up.”

Mando turns back to his pile of weapons and Luke tries to wait him out, but the bounty hunter isn’t paying him any attention. Instead he fiddles with some armor and looks for all the world like there isn’t a naked man perched on a cheap motel mattress, waiting for him.

“Do you even want to do this?” Luke asks, curious.

“Why?” Mando counters. “Second thoughts?”

“No,” Luke says quickly. “Not at all, I’m just confused, I guess.”

The sigh that Mando gives is loud enough to be picked up by his helmet’s modulator, which tells Luke quite a bit about the severity of that particular emotion. “I just don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

“Oh,” Luke says. He gives himself a moment to take that in, to rearrange what he’d thought he’d known about the bounty hunter with the man that is actually in front of him, and winds up the other side of it with a smile. “Then, since it seems like I’m the one that’s done this the most between the two of us, let me tell you that instead of standing all the way across the room it’s way more fun if you actually get close to the guy you’re planning on fucking.”

At the word fucking Mando’s head snaps up.

Luke tears the lube packet open with his teeth and squeezes the slick out onto the fingers of his left hand as he leans back.

“Come here,” Luke says, propping a foot onto the bed, tilting his pelvis to make sure that Mando has a good view before he starts to push his fingers inside of himself. “I want you to see what’s going to be yours—and only yours—for the next hour.”

Mando keeps most of his armor on, but Luke doesn’t mind. It’s kind of hot, to be naked against all that beskar, even if it is easier to see the dents from repelled blaster fire and the places where russet paint has started flaking away when he’s got his legs thrown over Mando’s shoulders.

By the time Mando comes Luke is on his elbows and knees, still trembling through the aftershocks of his own orgasm. If the Mandalorian makes a sound, it’s too soft to filter through his helmet. He does go still, though, and Luke braces himself for Mando to withdraw but instead he stays where he is, their bodies joined even as his hardness starts to fade away.

The press of steel between Luke’s shoulder blades is so unexpected it makes him gasp. His skin prickles in goosebumps as the warmth of it is greeted by the chill of Mando’s helmet. There’s something vulnerable about Mando in that moment, and Luke can feel his heart flip over strangely. He’s got a hand pressed to Luke’s hip and Luke shifts, balancing carefully, until he can reach back with his own gloved hand to touch it.

“You okay?” Luke asks, softly, like he’s afraid of startling the guy away.

“Yeah,” comes the reply. “Just give me a minute.”

He feels a little ridiculous telling him “Take your time” in this position, but Luke does mean it and maybe Mando can hear some of that in his voice because he stays put.

It’s only when a staticky comm turns on and the growling, bored voice of the Zabrak at the front desk warns that they only have ten minutes left or else they’ll have to pay for another full hour whether they use it or not, that he pulls out.

“Thanks,” Mando says at last into the quiet once they’ve both pulled their things back on: Mando his weapons and Luke his clothes.

“No problem. You seem—” Sad, Luke thinks. Lonely, but they don’t know each other well enough for Luke to say either of those things. “Tired.”

“Yeah. I guess I am. Okay, Skywalker,” Mando says, drawing himself up and squaring off his shoulders. He unclips a pair of cuffs from where they are hanging off his newly buckled belt. “Your choice. I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.”

Luke can’t help it. He laughs.

“I like that one,” he says as the durasteel closes tight around his wrists. “You should use it more often.”

Peli is probably going to kill him, for letting himself get picked up by a bounty hunter, again, and leaving his X-Wing in her hangar, again, but he can’t seem to worry about that right now.

Instead, Luke lets himself be led back to Mando’s ship. No one in Mos Eisley gives so much as a second glance to the Mandalorian bounty hunter and his bound quarry. Once inside the ship, Luke even steps into the carbonite chamber on his own with no pushing required.

It feels like the least he can do. The Mandalorian really does seem tired.

[cptnbvcks]

Okay but imagine Mando catching you masturbating to a fantasy of him and he leaves you to it, but later he has you cornered in the cockpit and tells you to explain what you’d been thinking about. You try to be a smart ass, but he just doesn’t react till you tell him the truth. When you do, he leans forward, grabs you by the back of the neck, and pulls you close as he says “good girl”

how the fuck does a drabble turn into a full fic i just— i’m gonna quarantine myself. 

It’s been… a long fucking week.

The air of the Razor Crest is thick with the metallic scent of fresh blood and there’s a wad of bandages collecting on the ship’s floor that you really need to get rid of before the little one can get into them.

You slump back against the ship’s steel wall with a quiet grunt, sinking down to the floor as the exhaustion finally began to creep into the corners of your vision in hazy pulses.

On the floor, clothes half ripped to hell and deeply unconscious, is the Mandalorian. The proof of your medical work is all over him; messy bandages that crisscross over golden skin and an ugly patch of bruised skin from a shoddily delivered emergency bacta shot.

You stare at his chest and you feel your own breath slowly fall in rhythm with the gentle rise and fall of it. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this… exposed before. His bareness had hardly registered in your head when he came staggering in, shoved the quarry into the carbonite chamber, and all but fell into your arms — his beskar hanging half-unclasped and his shirt torn and burnt where blaster fire had managed to hit skin. There had only been the acrid taste of fear on your tongue as you tore off the heavy armor and got to work cutting away his shirt to assess the damage. 

The adrenaline high is crashing at your feet and even though you’re exhausted, you can’t help but stare. 

His stomach rises and falls slow and your gaze is transfixed on the firm ripple of muscles that felt so firm under your shaking fingers. Scars overlapped, ugly and jagged from all the times he had patched himself back together again in the loneliness of the ship. 

Your fingers twitch slightly around your knee at the memory of his skin; soft everywhere, warm when you pressed against it, rough where the soft dusking of hair trailed up from his hem of his pants.

You dropped your head back against the ship’s wall and almost moaned when you let your eyes slip closed, exhaustion creeping at the edge of your consciousness.

Behind your eyes, your imagination eagerly pulled the image of his broad chest back to the forefront, demanding you finish your meandering thoughts. 

He had grabbed your arm when you first began taking off the beskar, his grip frighteningly unsteady as he reminded you, as urgently as he could manage, “Not the helmet.” 

Your fingers flexed into a fist, dropping lightly into your lap at the memory of his touch. The Mandalorian never touched you, not once since you stumbled into his life on the Razor Crest and failed to leave.

“Don— Don’t remove my helmet.” He grunted softly, the noises pained and tight through the modulator as you got to work.

He had grunted and groaned and grimaced through all of it, his breaths falling hard and ragged, and the sounds had been scary granted the context. But now, in the quiet calm of your own imagination, the context was much less terrifying.

Slowly, you peaked an eyelid open. 

His helmet was turned upwards, visor to the ship’s ceiling. The side of the helmet reflected an obscure version of your sitting form and you granted yourself one last peak at his stomach, still rising and falling with easy breaths. 

Yep, still sleeping.

The emergency shot must have kicked in harder than you expected and you secretly thank the Maker for the small mercy of the Mandalorian’s deep sleep because you really don’t think you have the energy to crawl up into the cockpit to do what you’re about to do.

Besides, you really shouldn’t leave him alone in this state. Not when the child could easily open the bunk hatch and stumble upon his caretaker like this.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you let your eyes fall shut again, loosening your knees slightly as your fingers quickly tug open your belt. 

You promise yourself you won’t take long. It’s been a long week and you can’t even remember the last time you had a moment to yourself. Between the little green bundle of trouble and his ever so stoic caretaker (Or was father more appropriate?) — the Razor Crest is always at full capacity. You couldn’t turn around without the little one peering up at you from your ankles with those big brown eyes and making uppy hands in a quiet plea to be lifted.

Yeah, you think to yourself, I won’t take long.

— 

The Mandalorian’s chest hesitates in its usual rhythm but your eyes are wrenched shut and you don’t notice when the beskar helmet turns, eyes fixing on you through the dark tint of the visor.

For a moment, he thinks he might be hallucinating. 

Your hand is clasped over your mouth, holding hard and digging into your cheek in a desperate attempt to muffle the soft noises you’re making. 

He can smell his own blood in the humid air and the punchy sterility of antibacterials, but what he smells most prominently is the heady scent of arousal. His eyes follow the tense length of your arm to where your hand disappears down the front of your pants. 

The Mandalorian feels his mouth go unbearably dry at the urgent shift of your wrist beneath the material — the way your head falls back and your knees tremble when you touch something undoubtably soft and sensitive and so so wet.

He can hear it through the sensitive registers of the helmet’s earpiece and he struggles to keep his breathing as even as he can while the soft wet sound of your fingers on your cunt slinks right down his body and straight to his cock. 

“M-mando—”

Every thought in his head crashes to a screeching halt and his heart all but leaps into his throat at the thought that he’s been caught watching you pleasure yourself. 

Your eyes are open and they’re half-lidded, unseeing, though Mando knows you’re looking dead at him. 

For a split second, the wonders if you wanted him to catch you. Were you carrying on in this way, so close yet just out of his reach, in the hopes that he would see? 

Your fingers pick up their pace, failing to register the change of his helmet’s angle, and you’re struggling to keep the noises in but the bounty hunter hears you loud and clear — the sweet voice that always welcomes him back and teases him mercilessly — moaning his name.

“M-maker, Man-mando— mmf!” 

The Mandalorian stares in awe as you cry for him, his nickname never once having sounded like that in your mouth. It rings in his ear like gun fire — loud and devastating to its recipient. 

His gaze eats up the way your body suddenly tenses and shudders as you sink your teeth into the back of your hand to muffle yourself. The fingers between your thighs don’t still but their fervour slows to a sluggish pace that keeps pulling soft trembling noises from your throat; ones he’s never heard you make before, and ones he doesn’t think he’d soon forget.

Your eyes fall shut again as you slump back, spent and exhausted, and the Mandalorian finally realizes that you still think he’s fast asleep. 

Slowly, you slip your hand out of your pants and the Mandalorian dare not blink when you lazily press your own cum coated fingers between your lips and moan his name again.

The Mandalorian closes his eyes and tries not to imagine your mouth around something a little more substantial.

— 

You really don’t remember falling asleep, but you wake up to the soft warmth of a blanket and the gentle jostle of the ship. Your eyes fall to the space on the floor where Mando had once been; a body-shaped pile of torn clothes and bandages the only hint that he had even been laying there. A blush threatens to creep up your cheeks and a shiver trills up your spine as you try your best not to remember what you did last night. Or better, who you thought of while doing it. 

Both of those options are hard to do when there’s a soft wetness that still clings to the seat of your panties, which you also try hard to ignore.

Your body is heavy and sluggish and there’s a ghost of a tremor in your thighs as you drag yourself across the main galley to the cockpit hatch, taking one heavy foot to each rung.

“Hey,” you announce yourself, the word coming out husky and drawling as you scoot your butt across the corridor’s floor and swinging your legs up into the space. The sliding doors open and you make out the shiny beskar helmet tilted over the ship’s controls. The child’s pram sits behind him and to his right, the doors of it sealed against the glare of hyperspace. He must have moved him from the bunk while you slept. 

The Mandalorian tilts his head over his shoulder slightly as you step towards him. Your gaze involuntarily drops to the fresh shirt and the fixed armor that obscures the body that you know exists beneath. 

You don’t mean to stutter, but your mind is pulling the images out of storage and playing them on a slideshow in your head before you can stop it. He shifts back in the chair and your gaze drops to his thighs and oh, maker, you’re thinking about the soft trail of dark hair that’s hidden under his new shirt and— 

“I don’t – I don’t think you’re supposed to be up so soon, after the shot—” 

“Thank you,” His words are low and his voice crackles slightly in the helmet’s modulator and it sounds like he hasn’t been awake for too long, “For taking care of me when I came in.” 

The gratitude in his voice takes you by surprise and you have to double check that your chin isn’t on the floor. He’s never thanked you before, and he never really struck you personally as the ‘thank you’ type.

“I— oh, you’re welcome? You’re welcome.” Your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and you can feel yourself grasping and failing to reach for the typical relaxed banter that usually falls between you. Something’s sitting in the air and you feel the odd pang of guilty nerves that make you feel like you’re hiding something.

“You could use some work on your shot delivery though,” he spoke and the deep scratch of his voice makes you distinctly aware of the slickness that remains between your thighs, “Not a fan of the bruises.” 

It takes a second for you to register what he’s talking about, but your mind readily draws back the image of his bare chest and the hideous crimson-maroon circular bruise that sits a few measures beneath the firmness of his right ribcage.

“Well, it’s not like you dragged me halfway across the galaxy because of my advanced medical training.” 

You see the small downward tilt of his helmet though he does not move the chair an inch.

“I dragged you?” 

There’s a small humor in his voice and you know he’s pulling on the fact that you had practically sat on the ship with the child on your lap and refused to let him leave your home planet without you in tow. But there’s something in the inflection of his voice when he hits the word ‘dragged’ and you always hated it when he served your words back to you and you really, really need to take a shower right about now. A cold one, preferably.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response, Mando.” 

You’re already stepping away and you don’t notice that the careless toss of his name on your tongue has drawn the bounty hunter’s muscles taut in his pilot’s chair. You hear the soft click of a switch or two and don’t think anything of it as you turn on your heel to head to the hatch doors.

You pause in front of it when the doors don’t automatically reopen at your presence.

Raising a hand, you wave it around to trigger the sensor. It stays shut.

“Hey, Mando— I think the door’s broken.” 

“Not broken,” he corrects and his tone lazes slow through the helmet’s modulator, “Locked.” 

His voice and his words sear you to that spot and you try real hard to ignore the low hum that’s starting to grow like incessant static between your thighs. You know the sound of his voice when he’s up to something. You’ve heard it far too many times when he hauls his quarries onto the Razor Crest — that quiet conspiratorial tone that says he knows more than you in any given situation. 

Right now, you felt like one of those quarries and the thought of it raked every thought clean from your mind except for that fucking static. 

You look over your shoulder at the sound of the pilot’s chair shifting with the familiar swoosh noise as its occupant rotates forty-five degrees around, though he only tilts his helmet slightly over his shoulder when he addresses you. His next words are quiet but they hit you loudly, amplified by your own shameful guilt.

“Last night,” he starts and you know what he’s going to say before the words even come out of his mouth, “You called my name—” 

That familiar hum returned with magnificent urgency, spiralling quickly across your limbs — from your fingertips to your toes and coiling determinedly between your thighs. The pilot’s chair creaks and a heavy footstep follows and your eyes refuse to move from the sealed doorway, your feet equally glued in place.

You open your mouth to begin reading your defence but he keeps speaking in that deep tone with the modulator-clipped vowels that sounds far too close behind you now.

“— Did you think that I was asleep? Or had you been hoping that I was watching?” 

The space feels smaller when he’s standing up and you suddenly have to try really hard not to think about what you were thinking about a few hours earlier while he was passed out and you were— 

Your legs feel like lead when you finally turn to face him and your mouth runs drier than a Tatooine summer. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Your cheeks burn hot as you tilt your head up to where his visor is angled. The star light glitters magnificently off of the beskar but you stand in his shadow, half blocked in. “To st-stop me, you could have—” 

“Why would I want you to stop?” 

Every single coherent thought dashes right out of your head and that static has finally reached your ears because there’s no way he just said that to you. His words wane playful and you really think you might vibrate out of your own skin at the anxiety-muddled revelations that’s welling inside of your belly now. 

“You’ve gone quiet,” the Mandalorian hums out, “You weren’t very quiet last night.” 

Your eyes must have been saucer-wide and your jaw hangs loose as he tilts his helmet slightly and you press your lips together at the small nagging feeling that he’s watching your mouth. A pair of gloved fingers touch your right elbow and the unexpected touch startles you, goosebumps immediately peppering your skin. He opens his grip around your arm and it takes a moment for you to realize that he’s lifting your arm from where it rests, fingers clenched, at your side.

“I want you to show me.” 

You swallow hard and find the weak sound of your voice again as his hand lowers down to your wrist, then your hand, turning it palm-up before slowly uncoiling your fingers. “Show—show you?” 

“Show me how you tasted when you came on your fingers. And—” The words strain through the helmet and you shiver again at the demanding heartbeat pulsing wetly against the seat of your panties. He drags a leather-covered thumb across the meat of your palm and across the narrow length of your middle finger, his thoughts easily returning to the sight of that hand wedged and flexing under the fabric of your pants,  “—and tell me what you thought of when you called for me.” 

The Mandalorian notices the small release of tension from your arm, allowing him to turn your hand in his grip and face your palm downwards. You know the path he’s guiding your hand on, yet still, you jump when he presses your palm firmly into your clothed cunt. 

“And—,” you pause to swallow the sudden hitch of your words, putting some spine in your voice as you continue, “And if I don’t?”

Your tone is shy but something so eager and repressed simmers beneath, growing bolder as he coaxes you away from embarrassment and into something more welcoming, something you’ve quietly been aching for for much longer than you’re willing to admit.

His breathing drags through the modulator as his fingers flex against yours, pressing them deeper into the thick fabric until he sees a small reaction twitch across your features. 

“I can always make you,” he offers and you can’t tell if his voice wanes threateningly or jestingly, but he demonstrates the strength of his insinuation when he drags his palm off of yours, over the hem of your pants, and then burying his gloved hand down beneath. 

You purse your lips and try not to let your eyelids flutter when he cups his hand over your slick panties and grinds the heel of his palm right into that bundle of nerves that has been buzzing urgent static through your system from the start of this. Your knees almost buckle as he steps forward, pushing you with him until your back thumps heavily against the cockpit doors. “Is that what you want?” 

“Is this—mm, how you interrogate your hostages?” 

He exhales sharply and you think it might be a half-laugh, “Only the pretty ones.”

The compliment doesn’t miss you and a shudder rakes hot down your spine as he drags his middle finger across the outline of your slit. Your shoulders slump against the cold metal as you arch your hips out and into his touch against your fleeting judgement. You bite back a whimper between your teeth because even with the gloves still on, it’s still him. Every inch of the uniform— the armor, the helmet, the beskar— it’s all him.

But you can’t help but quietly think about what’s underneath. The tanned skin, scarred and bruised, and the soft dust of hair that trails up— 

“I can put you in binders until you answer the question.”

The thought drags a moan from your chest as you grind yourself down into his palm. 

“Is that it?” He asks, his free hand dropping onto your waist to hold your hips out against his hand, “The binders?” 

Your eyes finally fall closed and your brow furrows as he picks up the pace of his minstrations and you swear he must have watched you closely last night. Slowly, you shake your head in response to his question, though the idea of him locking your arms down the way you’ve seen him do so expertly to all the unfortunate quarries certainly does hit you right in your core. 

It’s not what you want. It’s not the answer to his question. 

He presses into your clit and your head falls back against the doors with a hollow thump. 

“Take off your gloves,” you moan out, the sound airy and half-whispered, arching into a high whine in your throat as he presses eager little circles against your clit, dragging the material of your panties over your soft flesh, “Please—”  

You’re still reeling from his touches when he yanks his hand out the front of your pants and tears off his glove. Your gaze drops immediately at the flash of exposed skin as he spreads his palm across your hip, letting his fingers slip beneath your shirt to drag over your stomach.

His helmet tilts to follow your gaze as he slowly traces the rough pads of his fingers over the soft curve of your belly. His skin feels more foreign than the gloves and you bite down the moan that threatens when he flattens his hand into your abdomen and sinks below your pants again. This time, he pushes his fingertips into the elastic of your panties and lower.

“Th-this,” you finally whimper, the words barely registering in your own ears but he seems to receive them clearly. Your fists dig into the soft canvas of his undershirt wherever you can catch a hold of it beneath all that beskar, “Maker, it’s this.” 

“My fingers?” His question is punctuated with a soft press of your clit that leaves your mouth hanging open and your brows neatly furrowed. You nod your head jerkily as he lazily touches you, his fingers in no rush to take you where you desperately ache to go. His helmet tilts up and he’s watching you again. 

It might have been a little lie. The easiest lie. How else could you tell him that it was the fucking contact. The skin-to-skin closeness that you had felt tending to him; that ache it had put in you.

A pair of leather fingers reach around the back of your neck and you mindlessly tilt back into the grasp as he pulls your head forward. Your body follows the movement, leaning into him rather than the doors as his fingers draw urgent little thrusts of your own hips. 

“Good girl.” 

—

Tag List 

@sophiria @imspillingcoffee @plumbuck @romqnofff @sexygaypalpatine @elisaa-shelby @readermia @the-dream-catch3r @pinkmoontribe-blog @madkingcrowley @whenimaunicorn @petalduck @fairylightsandchai  @osejn @mandowhoreian @letdecemberburninflames @chickens-are-velociraptors @naiomiwinchester @peregrinestook  @space-helen @virtuousburden @daddehhmando @thechampmylove @kiame-sama @knightheartcd @lustriix @deviantloving-detective @headsindreams @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @sgtbookybarnes @celestiaalbliss @coonflix @thetrappednerd @brooklymw @the-omni-princess @sav-a-nna @actuallyanita @equalstrashflavoredtrash @claynarwale @pedrolovebot @mermaid-seachelle @sasha1005 @cafescrema @otherthingsinhead @maia-hocane @thatoneemosithlord @whenimaunicorn @fictional-thoughts @lilli-chae @spottedlekkudancer

[imnotwolverine]

The Monster’s Lair - A Belle Tune

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

Chapter 1 - A Belle Tune | Chap 2 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - stalking, mild injury, angsty vibes

Author’s note: Here we go dear readers, a whole new series!! As I was setting out the plotline I kept saying to myself; “Let’s make this 3-5 chapters, a short series, okay, Wolfie?” ...Welp... Apparently I have many talents, but writing short series is not one of them. I’ve tried again and again to reshape the plot into a shorter, snappier version, but I just couldn’t. So, here goes; 12 chapters of broody vampire Henry and sweet Belle. I hope you are ready ❤️

Word count: 1.991

Reading music: Agnes Obel - Tokka 

(Link to my Masterlist)

-

It was the first day of Autumn, summer finally past, as a tale of old was sung anew.

The land was cracked open dry and dusty after months without rain, the crops starting to fail just before harvest season. It made the tensions run high amongst the town folk, their worried eyes aiming upwards. The air had been thick for days now, the clouds drifting heavy and grey on dreary skies, foreboding a long awaited storm that just wouldn’t break.

And yet, not all were worried. At this moment the morning air felt slightly cheery too, as a soft tune wove through the ancient pine tree forest that lay like a prickly blanket over the rolling hills. 

It was a familiar tune, sung by a familiar woman’s voice, her pale skin and dark braided hair a sight he saw often in these parts of the land. Before her, two mutts sniffled happily, their wet noses pushing through the fallen leaves and shrubs that covered the dry forest floor. 

From the shadows of that same thicket, he was watching her, watching her rosy lips curl up in that dreamy smile, her feet kicking her blue skirts with confident strides.

Belle, he knew her name by now, was one of the few who dared to wander so close to his grounds, his domain, her skirts rustling as she conjured a book from the depths of her pockets. Always reading. 

At first he had been somewhat surprised to see a woman of her position even owning a book, a proper book. Her father was but a poor horse handler and her family long deceased. 

But, indeed, she could read. 

With an elegant hand she brushed down her skirts before sitting down on that same fallen down tree that she used everyday; her hide-out whenever the weather allowed. Clicking her tongue she instructed her dogs to lay down, her hand flicking through the book, returning to the page where she had left off a day ago.

Away from the snarky remarks and jealous whispers of the town folk, here she could read as dawn cracked over the horizon, her presence welcomed by the listening embrace of the forest and its inhabitants. The birds quieted their song and the mice and squirrels halted their squabbling, just long enough to look and listen, bewitched beady eyes watching the pretty woman as she started to read aloud.

It was an old and leather bound rendering of Apuleius’ Cupid and Psyche, an ancient fairy tale, the book nearly falling apart as she brushed her fingertips over the yellowed, vulnerable pages. She had read it a dozen times now, and yet the monster couldn’t help but listen, his lips moving in a silent joined recital. He knew the words by heart at this point.

What exactly she did by the day time he couldn’t tell, his disposition making it impossible for him to visit town when the sun was out. And thus he would just imagine it. Perhaps she worked as one of the chambermaids for the Les Comtes. Perhaps she helped her father in the stables - he had seen the old man during the nights many a time, his rough hands being ever so gentle with the handsome beasts that belonged to the Les Comtes. In fact all was owned by the Les Comtes, the family so rich that almost all villagers worked for their estate and businesses.  

Far too soon Belle’s voice would silence again, her finger tracing the page she had ended on, memorising it before gently closing the book, her eyes looking up through the thicket of the tree branches, watching those looming clouds up above. He knew what she thought; it was going to rain and she probably couldn’t return to this spot for a long time.

After the rain would come hail, winds, winter. And as it goes with reading outside, her natural reading nook was simply not able to hide her from the elements, and, with her reading hobby sneered at by the town’s folk, this might very well be her last reading session for this year.

With a sigh she got up, calling for her dogs and making her way back to the village, long skirts kicking, her book hidden back in the depths of her pockets. Oh, how he was going to miss her. Even if it was just for a day. Here in the forest he was awaited by an eternal nothingness. No job, no destination, only empty days that wove into a long string of months, years, centuries.

Returning to the crumbling ruins of his castle, the grande structure long past its glory days, he wandered endlessly through its halls, dust collecting on items that shouldn’t ever run into such disuse. Plates, cups, the fireplace, the beds. For centuries now he could not feel the pleasure of the simplicity of life. The food ashen on his tongue. His eyes, though closed, never truly resting. His skin no longer feeling the comfort of a warm hearth. His still beating heart but a mousy whisper of its once roaring strength.

Watching those heavy clouds above the treetops, he knew that it would be long before he would get to hear her voice again. A storm was looming, the long dry spell finally coming to an end and taking with it the long awaited rains. He knew it was a necessity, the listening critters around him feeling desperate for food now winter was soon to arrive, but he couldn’t help but feel a deep disappointment all the same. Because with the dreary days would come even more dark hours for him, the last sparkle of joy ripped from his life until spring would probably come again.  

—

‘Another one dead.’ The hunter growled, heaving the dead dog’s body from his cart, the boneless heap of bled out sinew and fur unceremoniously dropping to the dusty ground. With the ongoing drought, food has become more and more scarce. Crops were failing, wild animals were roaming nearer to the village and despite their best efforts, the hunters had great difficulty to actually catch anything. Something strange was afoot in the forest and rumour was about; it was the beast!

‘So no luck then.’ Arthur said in a hushed tone, his old knees cracking as he squatted down to inspect the remains of the hound. And indeed. Neck cracked, jugular torn, the required strength for such an act belonging to no less than a bear..or beast..of sorts.

‘Twas a mad dog anyways. But still..’ The hunter squinted, looking out over the yellow grassed meadows, to the edge of the forest where that monstrous beast hid away. ‘..we must see to it. The darn thing must be done with once and ..for..’ He blinked, then looked at Arthur with mild confusion. ‘Is that Belle?’ He pointed at a figure that appeared from the tree-line, two dogs at either side of her light blue skirts.

Arthur pushed himself up with a groan and also squinted his eyes, his sight no longer what it had been. ‘If it’s a pretty thing with two mutts, a dress of blue and a smile for days, it must be Belle.’ He said, his vision too blurry to discern anything that resembled his daughter. The hunter gruntled his disapproval, though not denying that it was indeed Belle, his strong, broad shouldered frame turning back to his cart to bring out what few rabbits and pheasants he had managed to catch in his traps. ‘You ought to bring some sense in that girl, Arthur..’ He warned, bushy eyebrows frowning as he looked back at the girl, her skirts twirling as she threw a stick for the dogs to fetch.

‘She is just so very much like her mother.’ Arthur sighed, not fully agreeing with the hunter’s sentiments as his lips curled in an amused smile.

‘Tcould be the death of her, old man. The beast is out there, I know that much. In fact. There’s a meeting in the town hall by sundown, in case you wish to join.’

‘Good..good...’ Arthur nodded, only half-listening now, his eyes finally managing to focus on Belle as she kicked her legs over the wood log fence near the stables he worked, her face all smiles and skirts a muddy mess.

Oh..Belle!

--

The shutters of the barn-like town hall shuddered, the wind outside picking up and the torch flames dancing wildly in the draft. It was a busy night, the floorboards creaking as the town’s men got up from their benches to express their bewilderment and frustrations, loud “Aye’s” and “Nays” echoing in the air as the discussions roared.

Now the food reserves of the town were running low and people had to ration, the tension was near tangible. Winter was coming and the people felt as restless as the storm that was picking up outside. The pigs needed to be fed, the elderly were struggling, sickness was spreading and all fingers pointed angrily at the direction of that wicked forest. The Beast’s forest.

‘Dear people! My people!’ Old Master Le Comte stood up from the throne-like seat that was situated right at the head of the hall, his fatty fingers balancing a shiny cup of wine. He raised his hand to calm the uproar, old furrowy brows raising up to show two grey, beady eyes. ‘Say AYE and agree, that we must see to the end of this beast for once and for all. He threatens our livestock, steals our hunted bounty and his cursed evil talons bring us only disease and misfortune. This drought? I would not be surprised if it were by HIS design!’ He exclaimed.

The town roared up with enthusiasm, fists raised in the air as a loud ‘AYE’ resounded front to back. In fact only the old man Arthur sat quiet, far in the corner, thinking fingers pulling at his moustache. He had discussed the matter with Belle and all she had to say was; “It is indeed quite practical to make a simple minded animal responsible for all your sorrows. But is it right to kill it because you conjured an image of beastly proportion, fed by your own fears? From what I heard he only has killed those who came too close..far too close.” 

‘HELP HELP!! The church! A FIRE!’ The large doors of the hall swung open as a young man burst through, arms waving in despair, the discussions regarding the monster quickly forgotten as everyone made haste to stop the flames as they quickly swept around them, the simple wooden structures of the inner town feeding themselves like perfectly dried logs to the hellish bonfire.  

Arthur looked up from his daze and slowly followed the hastened crowd outside, his feet no longer so fast as he felt a sudden, surprising coolness in his neck. A wet coolness. With a question in his eyes he looked up at the darkened sky, feeling another drop on his wrinkly skin. Rain? Did the gods bless them just in time? Would all be well?

A conclusion made prematurely, as a new alarm was struck from the village’s heart.

‘THE BEAST! TIS THE BEAST!’ The loud screams came from the village square, Arthur’s attention immediately drawn back to the people that sped past him. Oh no..oh no...BELLE! She was alone, she was..

*FLUNK*

With a loud thud Arthur smacked to the ground, his eyes blinking in shock as he saw the person who had bumped into him rush passed, the silhouette of the person already fading from his vision as all he could do was claw into the dusty road, eyes seeing all black.

Oh no...he thought, his body now fading out of consciousness. Belle! She must be warned! She was all alone! The beast..Oh Belle..the beast..and...Belle...

With heavy blinking eyes he scratched and cried, trying to gain the attention of people rushing by, but failing. None could hear or see him as the storm drowned out his wails and the night hid him in unblinking dark, leaving him with little else but hope, hope that Belle’s joyful tunes would indeed not be ended at the slashing of beastly claws, like the hunter had warned him for this morning.

Oh Belle, dear Belle..

--

Chap 2 >

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly​

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @elinesama​ @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message! 

[rawiswhore]

Various WCW, WWF, and ECW Wrestlers x Fem Reader- “I Touch Myself”

I actually originally planned on typing and posting this fanfic on Sunday, but Wrestlemania was on that day, and I wondered if I should type a fanfic set at Wrestlemania or what I originally planned on typing, so I typed and posted a fanfic set at Wrestlemania instead.

Also, I typed this fanfic yesterday and wanted to post it yesterday, but didn't have time to finish it, so I'm posting it today.

________________________________________________________________

In 1996 and 1997, a wrestling company known as WCW had higher ratings than the WWF, and the WWF was once the most popular wrestling company in the world, and even still is today now known as the WWE.

You had signed with the WWF in 1996, and one of the rules you had under their contract is that you weren't allowed to work for other wrestling companies, which was so lame.

You've seen some of WCW, and some of the wrestlers over in WCW are hot and sexy.

You wish you could hook up with some of the hotties over in WCW, but sadly, you can't.

Lousy contract.

So what can you do?

Simple, and I'll explain it later.

When the summer of 1997 was almost over, you were lying in bed one night in a hotel room, with all of the lights in the room turned off.

You thought about how hot some of those men in WCW were and what you wish you could do with them if you were with them.

You had shut your eyes, though you're trying to not fall asleep, and one of your hands had slipped down your thong panties and the pads of your fingers had touched your vulva.

You started picturing and fantasizing about a wrestler in WCW that many people probably have never even heard of, and the reason why is because he was never pushed that much and was booked as a "jobber": someone who makes another wrestler look good, and that wrestler is Jim Powers.

What a cookie cutter sounding wrestling name.

Despite that corny wrestling moniker, Jim Powers is really hot and sexy, so hot, there was even a WCW moment involving him, an Ultimate Warrior knockoff named the Renegade who had ditched his face paint and fried, crunchy hair, a wrestler named Joe Gomez and a skinny twinkish wrestler called Alex Wright walking on the beach together and taking their shirts off.

This moment was obvious fan service for some of the women watching WCW.

When you fantasized about Jim Powers that night, you fantasized of him wrapping his huge, muscular arms embracing you and pulling you close to his chest, and you had lifted your hands and wrapped your fingers atop of his biceps and gently squeezed them.

His biceps were rock hard, and that wasn't the only thing that was rock hard on him (winkwinknudgenudge).

Jim isn't the only hot one in WCW.

One of the more popular wrestlers that was in the biggest, most notorious wrestling faction in WCW; the wrestling faction that would increase WCW's ratings, was Scott Hall, who used to play Razor Ramon in the WWF.

Scott was even hotter in WCW than in the WWF as Razor Ramon, and he'd get even sexier as the 90's were coming to a close.

Scott Hall/Razor Ramon is known for having a very hairy chest, and your brain switched to now thinking about yourself in front of Scott Hall with your face buried in his chest hair, while Jim Powers was standing behind you and had his massive, strong arms wrapped around your waist.

As you were fantasizing about this, the tips and pads of your fingers started gently caressing and stroking vertically up and down your clitoris.

The tip of your finger scratched your clit underneath your clitoral hood, trying to make sure you feel something, and you felt a slight little tickle under that hood.

Rubbing your clitoris isn't the only thing you can rub on your body to make you feel good.

Your other hand slipped underneath your oversized T-shirt you slept in tonight and let the pads and tips of your fingers touch your stomach, where you began to vertically slide and elevate those fingers up your torso.

As you slid your fingers up your flesh, you fantasized about that scenario with your face buried in Scott Hall's chest while Jim Powers was behind you with his arms wrapped around you.

Blood is already rushing to your clitoris fantasizing about this, swelling your clit up and making you even hornier.

Room for one more, honey.

There's another wrestler in WCW who had gotten even sexier when he ditched the face paint, messy hair and even the Ultimate Warrior knockoff gimmick, and that wrestler is the aforementioned Renegade.

The hottest the Renegade ever looked was probably in 1996, before he grew facial hair, so you imagined the way the Renegade looked that year, where, while you have Scott Hall in front of you and Jim Powers behind you, the Renegade is on one of your sides, wrapping his massive, huge muscles around your waist, but not squeezing and hugging onto you too tight.

It's like you're trapped and can't be released from these hot men all over you, but you want this.

It's also almost like these men are shielding and protecting you.

It feels good when you take your clothes off and the air is all over your skin, maybe you can undress tonight and masturbate naked.

These little fantasies are tame and mild, so you decided to make your fantasies get a little bit naughtier.

Lex Luger has crossed over to WCW during the late 90's, and for those who don't know, Lex Luger was promoted by the WWF in 1993/1994 to be the next Hulk Hogan and the next face of the company since Hogan left, and they turned Lex's character into a patriotic, all American hero, except Lex didn't have any of Hogan's charisma and audiences didn't really click with Lex.

Lex eventually joined WCW by the end of 1995, and he actually was kind of sexy.

Lex's body, even during his days in the WWF, was always glazed and slathered in baby oil, and your mind had abandoned the thought of Scott, Jim and the Renegade all around you and switched over to just Lex.

You imagined being with Lex the way he looked in 1996/1997 with his hair hanging down and not wearing a shirt, and you imagined one of your hands caressing baby oil vertically up and down his torso, your palm and fingers feeling the ripples of his muscles on his torso.

You didn't just imagine caressing baby oil on his torso, but also sliding it up and down across his arms as well.

He, meanwhile, is just staring at your hand caressing that baby oil on his body, the baby oil making his body shinier.

Baby oil isn't the only thing that can make someone's skin shinier, and so your mind thought of something else.

This time, your mind began to think of him the way he looked in 1996 and 1997, his hair hanging down and not tied back in a ponytail, his body is stark naked with not a single stitch of clothes on him.

You pictured that Lex in a locker room's shower, where the floor is white little tiles, and you were fantasizing that you were naked in that shower with him, where your hand was caressing and stroking his body with body wash while he stood under a showerhead, the water pouring and washing away the foamy wash off of his washboard abdomen.

When the body wash had evaporated and disappeared off of his abs and trickled down his legs, his abdomen looked shinier, like you had smeared baby oil on his abs.

You didn't just rub his abs with that body wash, but his pecs as well, where, of course, the water had rinsed the foam off of them, his pectoral muscles looking shiny under the buzzing lights on the ceiling.

Lex doesn't really look all that hot with wet hair though, and to be honest, Lex isn't really that sexy or hot of a wrestler.

As you fantasized about Lex, your fingers, especially the pads and tips of them, were crawling up your skin to your breasts, you felt these cold little tingles while your fingers brushed up your skin.

If you had any body hair on your legs and even arms, you're pretty sure the hair on your body would stand up over the sharp feel of your fingers caressing your skin.

Rushes are transmitting to your areolas whilst your fingers elevate up your flesh.

Honestly, these fantasies involving Lex Luger are a bit too tame for your taste, now to go all out wild, what you really want.

Your brain switched to thinking about something else.

This time, you fantasized about a sauna or steam room, and inside that steam room was WCW alumni Scott Hall, the Renegade circa 1996 with his hair hanging down, Jim Powers, Lex Luger circa 1996/1997, Scotty Riggs without facial hair (looking how he did during the last months of '97), Eric Bischoff in January of '97, Joe Gomez, Raven (who just joined the roster and left ECW), Stevie Richards without facial hair, the blond one in this WCW duo called High Voltage, Chris Benoit (yes, THAT Chris Benoit, before he, well y'know...), and maybe even Chris Jericho.

They're not the only ones in this steam room, so is some of the WWF roster: Shawn Michaels, Hunter Hearst Helmsley with his hair hanging down, Billy Gunn/RockaBilly with blond hair, Jeff Hardy, Leif Cassidy without facial hair, Marty Jannetty, Brian Pillman in late 1996, Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith, Scott Putski without facial hair, Scott Taylor, Brian Christopher, and these Hispanic wrestlers named Heavy Metal, Hector Garza, Latin Lover and Pierroth without his mask and hair tied back in a ponytail.

You could probably even invite Thurman "Sparky" Plugg in late 1996 and Jeff Jarrett in early 1996 in this fantasy too, though you feel embarrassed to put them in there.

Finally, one wrestling icon you're putting in this fantasy is Rowdy Roddy Piper in during the late 80's and early 90's, when he had long hair and didn't have bangs.

He is kinda cute with long hair.

All of these aforementioned men were sitting in this sauna stark naked with nothing but a towel wrapped around their waists, hiding their genitals, and you entered the sauna, where you were the only girl in that sauna.

You had shed your towel off of your body, revealing you weren't wearing anything under that towel, showing your nude body off in front of them.

After they made some silly wolf whistles at you and had ear-to-ear smiles spreading across their faces, you walked up to these wrestlers and approached them, where they all disrobed themselves and it lead to you getting gangbanged, and you don't mean gangbanged as in being shot with guns, at least not the literal definition of a gun.

Though, how is that even possible?

What can you do if you're gangbanged by 30 men?

Well, you could ride these men's dicks one by one, but that's not really a gangbang, more like running a train.

You could ride one of their dicks while you're sucking on another dick and masturbating 2 other cocks in front of your face while 2 other wrestlers are rubbing the tips and heads of their penises in circles on your areolas and jerking their cocks off, while several other wrestlers are jerking off in front of your face and your hands sometimes take turns to crank up and down their shafts, masturbating them, as well as taking turns to suck on their cocks as well, and each wrestler in that sauna all gets a turn to do that or have that happen to them.

You've had a gangbang like that in the summer of '97, where wrestlers from the WWF and WCW had exercised at the same gym, and you invited the sexiest wrestlers in the WWF to the locker room of a gym, where you had this gangbang with them, and after they had all jizzed, you let who you thought were the sexiest men in WCW to do the same gangbang these WWF men did, and after they jizzed, the last ones you let do the same aforementioned gangbang to you were some other hot men from the WWF.

In fact, those hot men from WCW you had a gangbang with are some of the same men you're fantasizing about tonight.

That was one of the happiest and best days of your life, and probably their lives as well.

That was probably the only time, for now, anyway, where these men from WCW had sex with you.

Either way, you were trying to fantasize about getting gangbanged by the hottest men from the WWF, WCW and even a few hotties from ECW as well in a sauna.

While you tried to fantasize about this, your fingers had reached one of your nipples, which had become erect, and you love the feel of your nipples being rubbed and tweaked, you love that feeling even more than having your clit rubbed.

Thank God you're fantasizing about this at the right time, and the pads of your fingers at your nipple began to rub horizontally left and right, back and forth on your areola.

You actually have pressed your fingers on your clitoris before, and it feels really good, you can feel a little something under your vagina, so as you rubbed your areola, the pads of your fingers this time pressed down on your clitoral hood, pressing until you feel a hard surface under your vagina where you can feel something.

You bit your bottom lip and slightly arched your head back, your toes curled and bunched up, your lips trying to block a moan from being released.

Thank God that you didn't have anyone in bed with you to hear you moan.

Your moans sound more like a gasp than an orgasmic moan, and chills were running down your spine while you masturbated yourself.

You tried to make your fingers vertically rub up and down your clitoris while they were also pressing down on it as well, did it work?

Somewhat, yeah.

Rubbing faster might do the trick in making you cum as well, so you increased the pace when you rubbed your clit, rubbing faster than usual.

You didn't just rub your clit vertically, but also rubbed your clitoris around in circles with the pads of your fingers.

Getting gangbanged by several WWF, WCW and a few ECW wrestlers isn't the only thing that's sexy.

You've been gangbanged in locker rooms several times, and so your mind began to imagine being in a locker room instead, where you're getting gangbanged by these sexy aforementioned WWF, WCW and a few ECW wrestlers that you imagined being gangbanged in a sauna with.

You imagined being stark naked with these aforementioned wrestlers swarming all around you, masturbating several of these wrestlers' cocks in front of your face and tits and taking turns to suck their dicks and lick their shafts, getting their precum and jizz all over your face and breasts and in your mouth, where you swallow their cum.

Plus, you could maybe even ride one or 2 of these wrestler's cocks; one is in your pussy and the other in your asshole.

As you fantasized of this, your fingers on your areola began to switch this time; putting your nipple in between the pad of your thumb and index finger, where you began to tweak and pinch that nipple, turning it a bit.

You tried rubbing your clit even faster than usual fantasizing about this, and you really want something like this.

High pitched little moans are coming out of your mouth, and you hope that the neighbors next door won't hear them.

It's gonna probably take some time until you really do cum.

Your pussy feels like it's getting wetter and wetter and releasing something through the pores of your vagina while you're masturbating, and you're breathing short little gasps as you masturbate yourself.

You haven't been faking your orgasm tonight, you really do feel this way when you're touching yourself, and you keep elevating yourself up more and more.

You've also been trying to stay awake and not fall asleep despite your eyes being closed and eyelids feeling heavy.

Like your nipple, your fingers then began to place your clitoris in between the pads of your index finger and thumb, where you squeezed and pressed your clit together.

You've tried this before, and it feels really good too.

You can feel a little something down there when you're squeezing your clit together.

Goddamn it, you really want some of these hot men from WCW and the WWF right now, but at least when you can have these hot men from the WWF and you've had them many times.

You removed your thumb off of your nipple, and this time, you began to run the tip of your index finger on your areola in circles over and over again.

While these sexual fantasies are pretty hot, are these the perfect gangbangs?

Now some of these men are undeniably hot, like Shawn Michaels, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Jeff Hardy, Rob Van Dam, Scott Hall, and Jim Powers, but then there's Brian Pillman, who's the least sexiest out of all of these men.

You're also unsure if you should have Jeff Jarrett and Sparky Plugg in these fantasies, hell, even the name Sparky Plugg is corny (so is his gimmick).

Speaking of fantasies, you've heard of something known as a glory hole, which can sometimes be when someone is in a stall and there's one or more holes drilled in the stalls, and men poke and stick their penises in those holes where someone sucks and jerks those cocks off.

You even tried to recreate a glory hole not once, but twice in the summer of '97.

You imagined yourself in a narrow little stall, like the stall to a changing room, with several holes drilled in the sides, and those holes were filled with the penises of these sexy wrestlers you've been fantasizing about tonight.

In your fantasy, your fingers are wrapped around their shafts and masturbating their dicks, one cock is aiming at your face while another is pointing at one of your breasts, and while you're jerking them off you're sucking and licking on one wrestler's penis and swallowing his precum.

Each of these penises get a chance to get sucked, licked and masturbated in this fantasy, all of their precum gets in your face, in your mouth, down your throat and on your tits, and your hands are scrambling to another penis to pump their cocks quickly.

One thing that you've noticed that feels really good is when you rub your fingers over your clothed clitoris and areola, so your hand vertically elevated up your vagina and exited out of your panties, and lifted your hand out of under your shirt.

The tips of your fingers were a little gooey and wet from rubbing your moist pussy, despite your fingers rubbing your clit, not being up your twat, though you can always clean your fingers off with your mouth.

You placed the tips of your fingers over your clothed breast as well as your fingers over your clitoris shielded by your panties, where you began to vertically rub your fingers up and down your clit whereas your other fingers rubbed horizontally back and forth across your areola covered by your t-shirt this time.

This feels really, really good. If you've never done anything like this, I reccomend it.

The fabric of your panties nudged and attached to your areola and vagina, and you can feel your nipple poking and pointing through your T-shirt.

As you rubbed and masturbated yourself, you continued imagining that glory hole fantasy, imagining you're sucking and licking the hottest wrestler's cock like Shawn Michaels or Jeff Hardy, swallowing his precum, while you're masturbating Scott Hall's dick pointing at your face and jacking off Jim Powers' dick pointing at your tits.

Eventually, your mind drifts to fantasizing of sucking Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Rob Van Dam, Scott Hall or Jim Powers while jerking off Shawn Michaels, Jeff Hardy, the Renegade or even Scott Putski, and then the aforementioned ones getting their dicks jacked off get their cocks sucked as well.

Don't worry, even the likes of Brian Pillman, Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith, and others get their dicks sucked and jerked off as well.

You're definitely not fantasizing of sucking and jacking off the really ugly wrestlers like most of the Dudley brothers from ECW, eeeech.

You actually wish you were a man, a gay man even, so that way, you can masturbate and jack off to these sexual fantasies you're having tonight.

One thing you haven't done tonight is try to put your fingers up your twat, maybe you can do that.

You wanna save the best for last; fantasizing about sucking and jacking off the hottest male wrestlers ever.

Maybe they'll make you cum, that's why you're saving the hottest and sexiest ones for last.

You're trying to rub your fingers over your clothed clitoris not just vertically, but horizontally, as well as rubbing your clit around in circles.

You're also rubbing the tips of your fingers over your fabric covered areola around in circles, you can feel your nipple sticking out in the middle.

You rubbed your clit fast and quick, running the pads of your fingers in circles over your clit.

You moaned and gasped while you rubbed your clit, your head arching back and your face and head looking like it's in an orgasmic state.

As you masturbated yourself, you fantasizing of sucking Shawn Michaels' cock, licking up his shaft and swallowing his precum, while you jerked off Rob Van Dam and Scott Hall, your fingers quickly moving to another shaft to masturbate Jeff Hardy, Jim Powers and Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

And in your fantasy, you grabbed another cock and moved it to your mouth, leaving Shawn's dick out of your mouth and sucking on Jeff Hardy or Rob Van Dam or Scott Hall while you jack off Shawn Michaels.

You mumbled and bit your lip, holding your moans back, and then, suddenly, your pussy had creamed, your twat becoming wetter than ever before, gushing your salty, slippery cum.

Your clitoris pounded and throbbed after you had came, and y'know how when you cum and you're a female, sometimes it feels like you've only came a little bit?

That wasn't the case with you.

While you didn't burst like a fire hydrant when you came, you were definitely wet in the panties, and you didn't pee your panties.

Despite that you've finally came, since you didn't get the chance to insert your fingers inside your twat, you lifted one of your hands off of your underwear and slid them down your panties, until your fingers touched your wet, slippery vulva.

Even though you're wearing panties, with your index and middle fingers attached to each other, to tried to insert those 2 fingers up your pussy hole, not your urethra where pee comes out, but the hole many cocks have entered; the hole babies are born from and menstrual blood flows out.

The tips of your fingers slowly were entering and penetrating into your wet twat hole, stretching your walls apart, and when your fingers were inside enough your cunt hole, you began to make those fingers fuck you like it's a penis, your fingers moving back and forth inside your pussy hole.

You didn't just fingerbang yourself, but you also pressed your thumb on your clit, moving your clit around in circles with your thumb, as well as still continued rubbing your fingers on your areola covered by fabric.

As you finger fucked yourself, you fantasized of these WWF, WCW and some ECW wrestlers you thought were sexy "running a train" on you, where they're all waiting in line to fuck you and each of them get a turn one by one.

You eventually got tired of finger fucking yourself, so you slid your fingers out of your twat, your fingers now gooey and sticky, but you moved your thumb off of your clit and started rubbing your clitoris with your fingers.

You rubbed your clit vertically, horizontally, and in circles with the tips and pads of your fingers.

You may as well call it a night right now, and you waited to drift off to sleep while still masturbating yourself.

When you were waiting and trying to fall asleep, you thought of these wrestlers you've fantasized about tonight all rubbing and caressing your naked body with body wash in a locker room shower, lathering your body up with foam, and they all get chances and have their hands traveling all over your body, while your hands are trying to touch on each of their chests and arms as well, rub the foamy body wash on their skin, trying to put your hands on their body parts and vertically caress them.

You have so many hot sexual fantasies with wrestlers that could be porn, and you even acted out some of your sexual fantasies with these professional wrestlers you've fantasized about.

When you woke up in the morning, your hand was still down your panties, though you still didn't continue masturbating when you fell asleep.

Y'know, Cyndi Lauper was one of the reasons the WWF blew up in popularity in the 1980's, she even guest starred in the WWF and had professional wrestlers and wrestling managers in her music videos.

And one of her most notorious songs is a song called "She Bop", about her masturbating.

________________________________________________________________

I actually tried fantasizing of getting gangbanged by so many hot men from the WWF, WCW and some from ECW (maybe even a few from modern WWE, NXT and AEW too) while I masturbated last night.