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crumbledcastle28 · 3 years ago

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Chapter 11: A Squeeze

Warnings: mentions of violence and anxiety, people getting shot, reader gets tense, Mando is extremely touch starved, and softness.

Author’s Note: Chapter 11! This one is one of my personal favs, so I hope you enjoy!

Gif by bestintheparsec

As you traveled with the crew near the outskirts of town, you couldn’t stop thinking about what the child had done the night before.

Your entire life, death has plagued you. Everywhere you went you carried the guilt of death and knowing that there was nothing you could do to stop it. You had heard legends of a Sith named Darth Plagueis who had the power to stop death, but he was deep in the dark side.

You were never going to go down that road.

All you knew was this little kid was powerful. More powerful than you realized, and definitely more powerful than Mando realized. He had been so concerned about keeping this child safe for so long, when in reality, the kid had the ability to keep Mando safe the whole time.

But at the end of the day, the Empire was still around. They would figure out the child’s powers eventually if they kept coming after him, and you were not going to let what happened to you happen to him.

You had been in deep thought for so long, you barely noticed Mando giving a little tap on your elbow. You were a little startled, but relaxed at Mando’s voice.

“You ok?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah… I’m ok,” you respond. “I just… never knew that was possible,” you say, referring back to the child.

You looked down at his sleeping form in the pram next to you, and you smiled at his vulnerable state. What could such a little brain like that dream about?

Mando went quiet after you responded to his concern, and you knew it was because there really isn’t a good way to respond. He obviously didn’t know the kid’s potential either, and he was probably in even more shock than you were.

“Thank you, for checking in on me,” you say, finally turning around to meet his gaze. You had been riding on the same blurrg for a while, but you were trapped in your own head. His closeness to you was starting to make a blush crawl up your neck.

He nodded in an understanding way, and you headed on.

~~*~~

After some time, you noticed that Karga and his two bounty hunters were talking in whispers as they walked in front of you, and that obviously rubbed Cara the wrong way.

“You guys think they’re having second thoughts?” she asked in a teasing tone, and you returned a breathy laugh.

You tried to hide your smile, but that had been the first time she acknowledged you in days, and she was even joking with you? You didn’t want to get her hopes up, but maybe Cara was having second thoughts as well.

“Could be,” Mando replied. “I need you two to help me keep an eye on them.”

You and Cara nodded your heads, and scanned the hunters’ bodies with your eyes for a few minutes. The three of you had switched to being on foot while Kuiil took the only remaining blurrg.

All of a sudden, a bluff overlooking the town appeared, and Karga was gazing down at the city below.

“I guess this is it,” he said, but he was still facing the view.

The other two bounty hunters had stated to make their way behind you, and the alarms in your head were blaring.

You heard every step, every ruffle, and every breath they made. And it was driving you crazy.

They were at your backs, but you had your longspear in hand. You had better skills than these two by a long shot.

Suddenly, Karga spins around, and fires at the two bounty hunters who instantly hit the ground.

You drew your own weapon, while Mando and Cara approached Karga from either side with their weapons drawn as well.

You knew it. This man was not to be trusted. He could have shot the kid!

“There’s something you should know,” Karga says, and you try not to roll your eyes.

“Please. Enlighten us,” you say sarcastically, but you have venom in your voice. Karga can feel it, so he immediately transitions into his explanation.

“The plan was to kill you and take the kid,” Karga says, and your blood boils.

“But after what happened last night… I couldn’t go through with it. Go on, you can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn’t violate the code. But if you do, this child will never be safe.”

Your weapon was still at the ready, and Cara and Mando didn’t seem convinced either.

“We will take our chances,” Cara says.

“Perhaps you should let him speak,” Kuiil says, and you glance over your shoulder to look at him. This poor man had been though a lot, yet his voice exuded such gentleness. It reminded you of Mando’s voice when he talked to you.

“We both need the client eliminated,” Karga said, “let me take the child to him, and then you three…”

“No,” Mando interupts. He lowers his blaster, and glances at you to lower your weapon.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Cara seems to have the same reaction.

“What are you doing,” she asks, and you are wondering the same thing.

“As long as the Imp lives, he will send hunters after the Child,” Mando says, and you are starting to understand what he’s getting at.

“Bring me. Tell him you captured me. Get me close, and I’ll kill him,” Mando says to Karga, and you hate the gleam of excitement that flashed in Karga’s eyes.

“That’s a good idea,” Karga responded. “Give me your blaster.”

“This is insane,” Cara said, turning to look at you. You see Mando giving his blaster to Karga, and you honestly don’t even know what to think.

Karga just openly admitted to betraying you and trying to kill Mando, so there was no way you would trust him in the slightest. But at the same time, what other choice did you have? The child had to be safe, and Mando was right. The hunters won’t ever stop.

You give Cara a look of pity, but you lower your longspear. Your shoulders slightly relax, and you feel your grip loosening.

“What else can we do?” you ask her, and she looked away in disgust.

“Well, I’m coming with you,” Cara said. “I’ll tell them I caught you.”

“Then she can bring the child,” Karga said, and Cara started to relax a little.

“No,” Mando said firmly. “The kid goes with y/n back to the ship.”

You and Mando were normally on the same page, but you had to admit, that didn’t really make any sense.

“But without the child none of this works,” Karga said, and you hated that you agreed with him.

“I have a plan,” he says to the two of them, and then he strides over to you.

“I need you to ride to the ship with Kuiil and the kid and seal yourselves in. Engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors,” Mando says to you as he guides the Child in his pram over to your arms.

You look into Mando’s visor, trying to find his eyes, but an evil, anxious part of you starts to awaken.

This could be the last time you stare into that helmet.

If this goes wrong, Mando and Cara would be almost laughably outnumbered by the Imps.

You continue to search for his eyes, and you sigh quietly. You have to keep yourself together for him.

Mando breaks the eye contact to rub the child’s ears, and you long for him to look back at you. The trance you guys enter when you look at each other is so cheesy, but it feels real. You wanted to stare at him forever.

“Be careful,” you murmur, only loud enough for him to hear.

He looks back at you and nods, but you notice he is squeezing his fists at his sides again.

He keeps trying to stop himself from something, and you are too impatient to figure out what it is, so you take his hands in yours and give them a gentle squeeze.

He looked down at your hands in his. You didn’t know it, but Mando was soaking in the fact that you were showing him more kindness in your touch than he had experienced in decades. Mando struggled, he managed to meet your eyes again.

“You too,” he says, rubbing your knuckles, and you smile at him.

He lets go of your hands gently, and you pray to whatever God was out there that he would not leave them permanently empty.

~~*~~

After Mando gave you your assignment, you and Kuiil immediately got a move on back to the Razor Crest with the child in your arms.

You hold the child close to your chest as Kuiil drives the blurrg behind you, and you give the child a little squeeze. Your nerves are starting to get the better of you.

Before, you could have worked with a crew like this and never felt a thing. They were going in outnumbered, so what? You were in the safe position and you had the prize in your arms? What did you care?

But now, your very hope at being happy again was walking into an imperial guarded death trap, pretending to be taken prisoner.

You hated this plan. Mando and Cara were smart, so you decided not to question their decision, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still have your doubts.

The only thing keeping you sane was the cooling air hitting your face as you rode, and the little gurgles from the child in your arms.

This is all you could control at this moment. You could control his safety, and you were not going to fail.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @farfromjustordinary @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @440mxs-wife

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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firstofficerwiggles · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: Adventures in Space Babysitting

Link to Chpt. 1, Chpt. 3

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild swearing, sexual arousal, references to sexual relationships, canonical violence

Word Count:~5600

Summary: Caretaker reader is settling into her job and she realizes she has a crush on Mando. Some fluff, action, and little angst in this chapter.

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chpt. 2! I haven’t really written anything with angst before so I hope you think that part went okay. Thanks for reading!

The little green body launches itself up onto your bed yet again waking you in the early hours of the morning. The child snuggles up close to your chest and you can’t help but rub his little back with soothing motions. You have tried to get the child on a routine these past few weeks, and this seems to be the one pattern he’s most pleased to follow every day. The first time he showed up in your bed you thought Mando had placed him there as a subtle hint that it was your turn to be on child duty. However, when you heard Mando frantically looking for the toddler that first morning, you knew the little one had managed to sneak his way over to you all on his own. Neither you nor Mando know much about the child’s life before Mando rescued him, but it seems to you that it must have been difficult, because he appears to be starved for affection and he seeks it out every chance he gets. You’ve always been a cuddler yourself though so you are happy to oblige him and honestly although it means you don’t get to sleep as much as you used to, you love your early morning snuggles with him. Besides, it helps keep your mind off how much you’d like to snuggle Mando.

This silly crush on Mando has hit you out of nowhere and you feel like a complete fool for even acknowledging it. You suppose it can’t be helped to a certain extent, as he has to be hands down the nicest man in the entire galaxy, implausible as it may seem. He’s a gun-for-hire, rough and tough bounty hunter, covered in armor and weapons, and yet he has been nothing but thoughtful and respectful towards you. When you first spoke to him about establishing a better schedule for the child and working on some developmental milestones, he listened carefully and encouraged you to do what you felt was best. Other men you’ve known in the past would have questioned your recommendations or only half-listened to you dismissively. But Mando asked thoughtful questions that showed you he valued your opinions and then he was sure to comment on how well things were going after you began implementing the changes. You couldn’t remember the last time an employer gave you a compliment on your work, and it was just nice.

Then there was the first time he brought back a bounty to the ship. He’d been gone for about two days and when he returned, he was dragging a large alien man behind him. While you tried not to be overly curious, you couldn’t help but watch him as he manhandled the guy into the carbonite freezer. You were impressed with his strength, but it also made you feel a little bit wary as he next strode over towards you and the child. Your cautiousness melted away quickly though as Mando placed a bag of berries on the crate sitting next to you, mentioning that he noticed how much you seemed to enjoy them and thought you’d like to have some more. The thought of him noticing such a detail and then taking the time to stop and buy the berries for you made you want to swoon. You told yourself you were being ridiculous and that it was clearly just an overreaction to someone finally being nice to you.

The child is starting to get squirmy and you know that means he’ll be looking for breakfast soon. You listen carefully for Mando and realize that he must either be still asleep or up in the cockpit. Either way, you doubt he’s eaten any breakfast yet as he seems to prefer your cooking over his own. You toss back your covers and get yourself ready for the day. You decide to make eggs this morning, the little one’s favorite food that isn’t sugar-based. You are just finishing cutting up some fruit to go with the eggs, when you hear Mando’s boots behind you.

“MMM, smells good.” He says sounding still a bit sleepy. “I’m starving.”

You turn around with a plate all ready for him and a cup of caf, telling him “Lucky for you, I knew you would be.”

“Thank you, I don’t know how I survived without you,” Mando replies. Your heart sings at his words and you quickly turn back to the food so he can’t see the goofy smile breaking out on your face.

“Mostly on ration bars it seems.” You noticed he had quite the stash of them when you were first on board. Fortunately, you’ve convinced him to try to get a greater variety of food whenever possible.

“Well, my taste buds thank you too.” He carries his breakfast into his bunk where he can eat in privacy. At first, you felt sad for him always having to eat by himself, but you realize he must be so used to it that it probably doesn’t bother him. Nonetheless, it hasn’t stopped you from thinking up ideas for a shared meal sometime in the future, maybe when he knows you better and his trust in you is stronger.

After breakfast, you’re getting the child ready for a day out on the town. Mando is dropping off several bounties today which means you’ll be able to stretch your legs off the ship and visit the market in Batuu. As the ship lands, Mando is already back in the hull quickly reviewing all of the safety protocols for leaving the ship. He does this each time and at first it was rather annoying, it’s not like you’re an idiot, but then you realized he does it because he simply cares that much about the child’s and your wellbeing. While his protectiveness towards the child is completely logical, you still can’t get over how much it extends to you too. You’ve been responsible for yourself for so long; it never occurred to you that another adult would care so much about protecting you.

“Before I forget, I found a holster for you.” Mando is holding out a leather belt for you. “You shouldn’t keep the blaster in a bag; you can’t get to it fast enough.”

“Oh, thank you.” You say politely, although you’re hoping that just once he’ll fail to remind you to take the blaster along. You know he said you have to take it with you every time you leave the ship, but you still feel uncomfortable carrying it around. At least when you could shove it into your bag, you could pretend you didn’t have it, but now, it’ll be right there on your hip, much harder to ignore. Your fingers fumble with buckling the holster; knowing that he’s watching you intently makes you nervous. Mando steps closer to help you, softly brushing your hands away. Maker, he’s so close to you and each time his hands brush against your waist as he secures the holster you need to remind yourself to breathe.

“There you go.” Mando finishes but lets his hand linger for a moment on your hip. You feel his thumb brush back and forth just a bit before he sharply pulls away as if realizing what he was doing. You slip the blaster into the new holster, and he gives you a nod, “Looks good.”

You feel your face heat up as you realize he’s staring at your hips and you distract yourself by making sure the child is ready to go, “Ready to explore?” you ask him, and you hear a happy coo in response from the pram.

You follow Mando down the ramp of the ship, glad to be out in the fresh air and sunshine. Shopping for supplies never seemed like anything interesting in the past, but now that you get to visit different markets on new worlds you’ve never seen before, each little shopping trip feels like a new experience. The colorful stalls filled with all types of wares beckon you to explore and discover some exotic fruit or an old book that you might never see anywhere else.

Oh, speaking of books, “I thought I might try to find a few children’s books for the child, if that’s ok?” you ask Mando.

“Are you trying to teach him to read? Is he ready for that?” Mando sounds curious, but not skeptical in any way.

“No, not yet, but I know he likes hearing stories,” you explain, “and I’m not sure how much more I can keep inventing ones to tell him.”

“Have you just been making those stories up yourself?” He nods in approval, seemingly impressed. “You have a good imagination.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” You’re caught off guard there for a moment, as you hadn’t realized he’d paid much attention to the stories you tell the little one.

“Yeah, I liked the one you told him about the magic frog. It was funny.” He surprises you again. Not only was he listening, he remembers the silly story you made up, and he liked it.

“Thanks,” you say again, stunned by his comment, but it’s his next suggestion that totally floors you.

“You should write them down, make your own book.”

“Make my own book?” The idea would never have occurred to you.

“Why not? Maybe you can even get the kid to draw pictures for it. You can get him some coloring pencils too.” Mando turns and hands you some extra credits. “I need to take care of some business, now, but you two will be safe here. Meet me by the fountain in 30 minutes. Do not be late.” He punctuates that last statement with a point of his index finger and then turns to go.

You watch him head towards a cantina and then just stare down at the credits in your palm. How is he so nice but then also kind of scary? And why does it make you ‘feel’ things? You shake your head at your own silliness and then look down at the little guy and say, “Well, let’s go find you something to color with.”

Perusing the stalls, you find plenty of items to fill up your bags and empty your wallet. You discover a great notebook with plenty of space for writing and pictures. The more you think of the idea of creating your own little book with the child, the more excited you get. You find a few children’s books too, so that you can be sure to keep the little one entertained when he’s tired of drawing. Cognizant of the time, you start to head to the fountain in the center of the market, Mando’s designated meeting spot, when you smell a delectable aroma. The baby smells it too and immediately begins whining and reaching out his little hands. You head to the source of the scent to see several types of kebabs at a nearby stand. You still have some credits and are preparing to order but the little one is too impatient and before you know it, two kebabs are floating to the pram.

“Hey! You have to pay for those!” The man behind the stand yells at you.

“I was; I mean I am,” you quickly tell him, “I’m sorry, he’s just so sneaky and fast sometimes.” You offer him a smile, hoping to smooth things over. What’s more, you pray the man thinks the child just grabbed the food and that he didn’t notice anything magical about it. “How much are they?”

The man looks you over for a moment and then his demeanor changes, “Well, for you, mama, I’m sure we can work out a little deal.” He leers at you.

“That’s ok,” you say uncomfortable at the look in his eye, and you let your smile drop from your face, “I’ll just pay the regular price.”

“Ah, c’mon, there’s nothing like a little discount among friends.” He steps out from behind his stall to stand right in front of you. He reaches out and brushes a hand down your arm, “You’d like to be my friend, wouldn’t you?”

You take a step back and say, “I’d just like to pay you for the food.”

“We can call it even, if you give me a little kiss.” This gross creep moves closer to you again, this time leaning down.

“I have credits.” You tell him, attempting to sound firm while you start to step back again, but he anticipates your move and reaches out to grab your wrist pulling you up against his body. You push on his chest, trying to pull away when you hear the sound of a blaster priming and then a raspy modulated voice says, “Let her go.”

The man drops your arm instantly and you can finally back away from him. You’re very grateful to see Mando with his weapon pointed directly at the man’s head. The man holds his hands up, “We were just having a friendly little chat.”

“Didn’t look friendly to me.” Mando deadpans, but he holsters his blaster now that it’s clear you’re safe. He comes over to you, placing a hand on the small of your back and turns you to walk away with him.

“Hey! She still needs to pay me for the food,” the man protests.

“What did he want for the food?” Mando asks you.

“A kiss,” you reply sardonically.

Mando shrugs, then turns back to the stall, approaches the man quickly and then just head-butts him hard with his helmet. The creep lets out a loud yell of pain and collapses to the ground.

“There you go, a kiss from a Mandalorian.” Mando drawls, before turning and striding back over to you.

Oh damn! That was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and you feel your body flood with desire. Ok, so maybe that was a blatant show of male posturing, and as an educated, modern woman, you probably shouldn’t be so aroused right now. But some primeval part of your brain has taken over, and the only thought you have is how great a protector Mando is and how much you want him to protect you. You can’t even say anything to him right now because you’re just replaying the moment over in your head. It isn’t until you realize that Mando is saying your name, repeating it, that you finally snap back to reality and remember to thank him.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Mando is saying, “Are you ok?” He asks you slowly to make sure you’ve understood him. It’s possible he’s already asked you that but you were too swept up in your cavewoman thoughts.

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine,” you reassure him, “That creep just made me uncomfortable, but he didn’t hurt me. But, thank you again.”

“You’re sure?” Mando asks, a bit doubtful. What are you supposed to tell him? That your dazed look is because you’re turned on by him right now. Super inappropriate, having a major crush on your boss! You take a deep breath and remind yourself yet again that Mando is your employer.

“Really, I’m fine, thank you.” You’re pleased that you managed to get that out in a normal sounding voice. Mando considers you for a moment.

“Why didn’t you pull your blaster on him?” He wants to know.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I guess I’m just not used to reacting that way.”

“Hmm, we’ll need to work on that.” He seems satisfied at that and starts walking back towards the Crest. You force your feet to follow him, telling yourself to pull it together.

“Is that really considered a kiss from a Mandalorian?” You can’t help your stupid mouth from blurting out your question.

He laughs, surprising you because it’s the first time you’ve heard it. “Technically, yes, we call it a Keldabe Kiss.” He chuckles again and then says, “But there is a much softer version too between lovers.”

Ok, you almost become a puddle hearing him say the word ‘lovers’, and thankfully he’s still amused by your question that he doesn’t seem to notice your mouth dropping open and your feet stumbling a little. Instead, all he says is “Let’s get back to the ship, kid’s got the right idea, I could use something to eat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, Mando powers up the engines and you figure you’re off to the next planet, but instead he keeps the ship in the atmosphere, taking you away from the town. He lands in a clearing near a forest, and says, “This will be a good spot to practice.”

“Practice?” You’re confused.

“Yeah, I told you we’re going to work on your reaction to threats.” He says this in a matter-of-fact voice, “Plus, I know you said you could shoot, but I want to see how you handle that blaster.”

Sighing internally, you put the holster back on and collect the blaster from the weapons locker before following him down the ramp. The baby toddles down the ramp too, curious to see what’s happening.

“Alright, Miss Top-Marks-in-Shooting, let’s see you hit that tree.” Mando’s tone is rather chipper as he points out a large tree directly across from where you’re both standing. It’s a very easy target; he must think you exaggerated your skills.

You draw the weapon smoothly and shoot, just as you were trained to do, hitting the tree with ease. You fire four shoots in a small cluster pattern, to show that you are capable of accuracy.

Mando nods his head once, “Ok, now hit those five trees in rapid succession.” He points to a line of smaller trees further away to your left. You turn and successfully hit all five in what you consider to be a decent pace.

“Not bad, but see if you can go faster.” He instructs you. You try again, hopefully quicker this time. He nods when you look back at him and then points out a new target. You both keep repeating this pattern and he offers some critiques as you shoot, but generally, he seems satisfied.

“You did well,” Mando tells you after a bit, “You ever hit a moving target?”

“Uh, no.” You look at him cautiously, wondering what he has in mind. Your eyes must show how anxious that makes you, because he says, “We’ll work on that another time.”

You can’t help but let out a small sigh of relief. You figure practice time must be over for now, but then he says, “Let’s work on that reaction time for when someone is in your face. Just let me tell the kid first.”

Mando walks over to the little one who has been sitting on the ramp watching you shoot. “Ok, kiddo, this is just pretend. You understand? No one will get hurt, so no powers, ok?” The baby coos up at him and Mando nods.

“Gotta make sure he doesn’t try to fling one of us into a tree.” He says to your bemused expression. Mando returns to face you and steps close until he’s practically touching you. Your heartrate immediately picks up and your body starts to feel hot.

“I want you to draw your weapon on me, but do not shoot me,” he says definitively.

“What? No, I can’t do that, Mando,” you tell him in protest.

He reaches out lightning fast, grabs your wrist, and hauls you up against him in a similar manner to the jerk in the marketplace. Your positioning might be the same, yet this time you don’t feel creeped out, no, instead you like it, your traitorous body even pushes you a little closer to him.

“Draw your weapon on me. I’m a threat to you.” Mando tells you in a gravelly voice. Stars above! You have to bite your lip hard to keep from moaning. What is wrong with me? You realize he’s not going to let you go until you draw the blaster and so you finally comply with his order.

Mando releases you with small chuckle, as he says, “Ok, let’s try that again only not in slow motion.”

“Wait, wait, I’m not ready.” You’re panting like you just ran a race.

“That’s the whole point,” he replies, “Threats don’t just wait until you’re ready to shoot them.” You could swear he’s smirking at you under that helmet.

“No, I mean, give me a second to imagine I’m being threatened,” you are trying to buy yourself time before he decides to touch you again. “I need to visualize it.”

“Are you saying I’m not threatening enough?” Mando sounds skeptical and maybe a little insulted.

“No, I mean, of course, you are, you’re very threatening and wanted men everywhere should fear you, but I don’t fear you because I know you’ll never hurt me,” you explain to him in attempt to cover up the fact that you’re so damn attracted to him right now.

“You’re right; I would never do anything to hurt you.” He nods in agreement. “But wanted men everywhere should fear me, huh?” He sounds amused by that.

“Yes, yes, you’re very scary.” You tell him, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Ok, so pretend I’m someone you do fear.” He advances toward you. This time you think of Lieutenant Sauckel, an odious man from Imperial Intelligence that you despised. When Mando grabs you again, you imagine Sauckel’s black eyes and yellow teeth and draw your blaster as Mando pulls you to his chest.

“That was better, but still too slow.” He makes you try over and over, and each time you picture another terrible Imperial officer, Commander Brack, Major Frick, Junior Lieutenant Hess, and then finally Ensign Kerrick Hoven, the man who broke your heart and betrayed you. Imagining Kerrick’s smug face appears to do the trick, because it’s the fastest you’ve drawn the blaster yet, and you manage to wrench your arm away from Mando for the first time.

“Good!” Mando praises you enthusiastically, “That was really good.”

“Thanks.” You’re pleased to hear his words of encouragement, but your voice doesn’t show it. Picturing Kerrick again is enough to send you into darker emotions and you feel anger and sadness swirl in your stomach. Your face must give away your unhappy thoughts, because Mando suggests you stop for the day.

You stow your blaster in the holster and then head over to the child who’s been thoroughly entertained watching you both pretend fight. You reach down to pick him up and hold him close to your chest in a hug. There’s just something about his sweet little presence that makes you feel better. You’re smiling again when you pull away and head back into the ship. Mando follows you up the ramp and he’s quiet but you can feel him watching you as you stow the blaster in the weapons locker and remove the holster from your waist.

“Everything alright?” He asks you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I-, Thank you for taking the time to work with me on that. To practice, I mean. I know you’re very busy.” It really does mean a lot to you that he took time out of his schedule for you and you feel your heart swell as you think about his protective nature.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice a little softer, “Your safety is important to me. Plus, you need to be able to help keep the child safe too.”

“Yes, of course,” you nod in agreement.

“It’s helpful that you’re a good shot.” He praises you again, and this time you smile at his words.

“Thank you,” you reply sincerely. While you haven’t seen him shoot, you know he’s clearly an expert and it really does mean a lot to hear him praise your skill.

You turn back to the child, “I think it’s playtime now, what do you say, buddy?” He chirps in agreement and you head over to his small stash of toys and place him on the floor so he can start pulling out his favorites. Before you clamber down to join him, you feel Mando’s hand cup your arm just above the elbow. You turn back towards him with an inquisitive look. He just seems to stare at you for a moment, still holding your arm before telling you, “I’ll going to get us on our way to the next planet.”

“Ok, we’ll be alright down here. I’ll bring you up some dinner later.” You give him another smile and a quick nod.

“Good,” is all that he says and then he gives your arm a little squeeze before heading to the cockpit and you can’t help but feel a little fluttering in your stomach at that touch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of your afternoon passes swiftly as you and the child take his plushies on a heroic quest across the metal wonderland (the hull) to the black cliffs of mystery (a stack of crates) where you must find the golden treasure (a box of cookies). It’s a much more enjoyable game of pretend seeing as you’re not imagining Imps threatening you. It puts you in a cheerful mood and you’re still grinning to yourself when you bring Mando his dinner tray. You feel a pang of regret for him that he’s missed out on the fun afternoon with you and the child and it’s compounded by the thought of him eating his dinner alone too.

“Mando?”

“Yeah?”

You want to ask if there’s any way you could keep him company while he eats, promising to face away from him the entire time, but it feels too pushy to ask him for that. Besides, you’re probably just projecting your own feelings onto him. He’s likely much more comfortable knowing that you and the child are safely shut away from him downstairs and there’s no way he can break his creed while he eats. So, you just tell him, “I hope you enjoy your food.”

When you head back downstairs, you’re mentally kicking yourself for getting too attached. Your job is to take care of the child and make sure his needs are met. It’s nice of you to take care of Mando a little too, but he doesn’t need you to keep him company or worry about him being lonely. I’m being pathetic. You turn your attention back to your little green charge and decide it’s time to give him a bath and get him ready for bed. Still though as much as you try, you can’t stop your thoughts from wondering back to Mando. It’s hard to forget what it felt like pulled up against his chest while you were practicing your self-defense. And you may have replayed the whole head-butt scene in your head a dozen times. Stars! Am I really so desperate that I’m falling for the first man who’s nice to me? You try again to push images of Mando out of your head and focus on the baby. It works until he’s sound asleep in his little hammock and you don’t have a distraction any more. Maybe you can just grab your holopad and read up in the cockpit. That way you can satisfy your need to be close to Mando but also keep from bothering him. You make your way up the ladder, making sure it’s ok to enter the cockpit in case he still has the helmet off, before flopping down in the passenger seat on Mando’s right. You sit there and fiddle with the holopad trying to find a story that will entice you enough to keep your eyes on it, instead of tossing glances at the armored man sitting next to you. Turns out it doesn’t matter though because Mando feels like chatting.

“Kid get to sleep ok?” he asks you.

“Yes, he was pretty sleepy after his bath,” you reply.

“Probably tired after that epic adventure you went on too,” he huffs out a laugh, “I heard you doing all the voices for the toys.”

“Oh, yeah,” you’re a little embarrassed by that as you know you can be pretty goofy when you’re pretending with the child, “He really seems to like it though.”

“Sure he does, I could hear him giggling too.” Mando confirms for you. “I’m glad he’s having this time to be a child. I don’t know much about his past, but I don’t think he’s had a lot of fun in his life.”

“Well, I’ll try to make sure he does something fun every day.” You already love the little one so much, anything you can do to make him happy brings you joy too.

“Who were you picturing when we were practicing your reaction time?” Mando changes the subject abruptly.

You take a moment to process his question, and then tell him, “Just some Imperial officers from my past.” You shrug, “I figured that would be good motivation to draw a blaster.”

He seems to consider you for a moment, and then asks, “What about the last time? Who was that?”

“Oh,” you try to let out a little laugh to ease the discomfort welling up in you, “That was the man who broke my heart.”

“An Imperial officer?” Mando sounds surprised at that.

“He wasn’t an Imperial officer when I first knew him. He was in the graduating class before mine. We dated when we were in school together and we stayed in contact after he graduated. He’s the one who convinced me to do the exams for the ‘research group’.” You make quotation marks with your hands when you say those last two words.

“He mislead you?” Mando asks.

“No, he didn’t know what it really was then either. He had only just heard about it and was trying to get a job there and convinced me that it would be great for the two of us to work together.” You pause there not sure if you really want to keep telling Mando this story.

He’s curious though, as he asks, “What happened when you both found out you were working for Imp Intelligence?”

“We were both shocked and we turned to each other for comfort. It was intense, because I still had old feelings for him, and at the time, I believed he was the only one who understood how I had been deceived because he was right there with me. For a while, it felt tragically romantic, like we were two people clinging to each other in the midst of a terrible situation.”

“So, how did he break your heart?” Mando questions softly.

“I didn’t realize how one-sided our love affair had become. I thought he shared my horror for the Empire and their actions, but little did I know, he was buying into the Empire’s message more each day. As I was trying to disrupt the intelligence, Kerrick was weaseling his way closer to the officers, trying to spend time with them or impress them with his work. They awarded him the rank of Ensign when he turned me in for sabotage.” You can’t help the tear that manages to sneak out and slide down your cheek. You look out to the stars as they swirl by you in hyperspace.

“What was his name? His full name?” Mando asks.

“Kerrick Hoven, why?”

He ignores the question and asks, “Is he still alive?”

“As far as I know, yes.” You’re not sure why that matters to him.

Mando just makes a little hmm noise and then says, “No wonder you drew your blaster so quickly.”

“Well, that’s my sad story of heartbreak. How about you, Mando? You have a heartbreak story of your own?” Now that you’ve bared your sad past to him, you’re curious to hear about his.

“No.” Is all that he says.

“No? Nothing?” You push back a little; he must have something to share.

“Not really. Never get too attached or involved with a woman.” He punctuates this with a shrug.

“What about when you were a bit younger? No love affairs?” You can’t stop yourself from being curious about his romantic past; you just want to know a little something about it.

“I’ve had lovers, but nothing long-term or serious.” he states, “Relationships don’t really go with being a bounty hunter.” He sounds rather blasé about his love life or lack of one, as if he doesn’t spend any time thinking about it at all.

You feel your heart drop at that and all of your fantasies about the two of you being together someday seem exceedingly ridiculous right now. Of course he isn’t a man who gets into relationships, and if you became his lover, it would probably be a short-lived fling that would burn itself out once the novelty of new passion was gone. You feel foolish and tired. The fun of hearing about Mando’s love life has dissipated completely for you. So you change the topic and ask, “Where are we headed to next?”

“Bespin” Mando says. “It’s a mining planet with a city high up in the clouds in the upper atmosphere.”

You listen politely as he tells you some other facts about the planet. It sounds interesting enough, but you’re not really paying that close attention as you’re still somewhat wrapped up in your emotional reaction to his dismissal of relationships. You take a deep breath to center your thoughts and then focus in on his words, telling yourself that this is for the best, that you need to let your stupid crush die and just do your job. If you can’t do that, you’ll just set yourself up for another heartbreak, and what will that get you?

----------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! Link to Chapter 3, Lust Actually. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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oloreaa · 4 years ago

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Vencuyanir Ch. 5 - The Razor Crest

vencuyanir [ven-COO-yah-neer]: sustain, keep alive, preserve

Summary: After Bean’s display of power, Elana waits for him to wake up… and it is not easy with the stubborn Mandalorian

Words: 5.7k

Notes: Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter! I hope you will enjoy reading this one as well!! One of my fav moments of Ven is in here :)

Warnings: references to canon-typical violence, distress for child, discussion of loss/grief

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……………

"Is he still sleeping?" Elana could hear someone say, mind fuzzy and the world spinning around her as the darkness finally receded from her mind.

"Yes," another one answered, his voice familiar.

"Was he injured?"

"I don't think so." A tall figure, rifle slung across his back. "Not physically." Something reflecting off him, rust red armour and silver pauldron.

"Explain it to me again. I still don't understand what happened." Kuiil. Kuiil the Ugnaught. The farmer on Arvala-7.

"Neither do I." Silver beskar helmet, black T-visor, the Mandalorian.

Elana opened her eyes wider, beyond the slits that had just made out the rough shapes of the two men. The setting sun was directly facing them, and she sat up with a groan, squinting at the sky. What happened? Slowly, her senses came back to her, the rushing in her ears became quieter and the scent of machine oil and rock dust filled her nose. Her mouth was as dry as the desert.

"Ah, you're awake," the voice of Kuiil greeted her. He was sitting on top of his blurrg, swaying in the seat with every step the steed took.

"What-?" Elana rasped out, feeling as if her chest was caving in, "Bean?"

"He's here," the Mandalorian said quietly, and her head whipped around to the voice right next to her, his voice instantly making her tense. He was sitting, a pile of his ship parts behind him, and the pram floated next to the sled they were on. She scrambled over to it, not caring as her side brushed his knees, reached into the pod and took her baby out. Bean was a small, lifeless bundle in her arms, the bond between them empty, echoing when she tried to reach him, a stark contrast to the vivid and warm tendrils that had connected them before that swell of force had overwhelmed her.

"What happened to him?" Elana asked the Mandalorian, voice shaking as her fingers traced over Bean's little face. He was still breathing, thank the Stars, snoring peacefully, but she could feel nothing from him. Not the slightest emotion, no indication that they were even bonded at all. It was not as if the bond had snapped, more that it just flickered out of existence.

Elana snapped her face up to the beskar helmet, "What happened to him?" She did not recognize her own voice, guttural and venomous as she threw the accusation into his face, body trembling under the fury that rushed through her.

"Nothing," he said, voice rough.

"I don't believe you," she spat, "I told you that he should have stayed! What were you thinking, taking him to get a Mudhorn egg? He could have died!"

"I protected him," the Mandalorian defended himself, aggression pouring off him in waves, "I did my best."

"Your best is not enough if my baby had to stop a charging Mudhorn for you!" Elana shrieked, and pushed his pauldron roughly, uncaring about the repercussions, white hot anger overtaking every rational thought.

The Mandalorian grunted as if in pain, and Elana stopped, feeling cold. Suddenly she saw how banged up he looked, completely covered in mud splatters, his armour dented and broken into pieces, his chest plate looking as if it needed a complete replacement. His dirty T-visor was staring her down accusingly. Before Elana's eye, the memory of what Bean saw flickered to life, how the Mudhorn had rammed the Mandalorian, sent him flying through the air. Her mind raced at hyperspeed as she stared at him.

A part in Elana wanted to apologise, for her shove, which probably caused some amount of pain or added to existing injuries, and her words because it was obvious that he had at least tried to keep Bean safe. The pram was free from mud, free from damage, and if it were not for the missing bond, she would have thought that Bean was simply catching up on his midday nap. The difference between them could not have been bigger, and it only highlighted the effort the Mandalorian had taken to make sure Bean was safe. But still, the baby had used whatever that power in him was to help slay the Mudhorn. Elana had always known that Bean was special. Not only the bond between them, but also the way he would always land lightly, always know whom to trust, could always react a second faster than expected. She had always been able to do some of the things he was able to do as well, to an extent, but she was nowhere near as strong as her little baby was.

"Explain two things to me," the Mandalorian said, voice leaving no room for arguments, "One, how was he," he pointed to the pram, "able to stop that charging Mudhorn for me?" The bounty hunter threw her words back at her, mud-speckled visor trained directly on her. Elana opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off, "And two, how do you know about it?"

They stared at each other, and for one moment, she did not know what to say. The truth? Some version of it? Straight up lying? Her eyes flickered between Bean, the ground, the Mandalorian, the rocks around them, the shiny parts of the ship, while she opened and closed her mouth several times, unsure what to say. Taking a deep breath when the Mandalorian sighed impatiently, she started to talk in a hesitant manner.

"I don't know why he can do that," she confessed, blinking fast as she furrowed her brows, deep in thought as she tried to find a way to explain the uniqueness of Bean, "I don't know if he was born with it, if it is something that is specific to his species, or he learned it somehow." The blurrg gave a low growl in response to something on the road, and she used this small break to sort out her thoughts. "Sometimes he can lift things, and sometimes he can't, even if he tries. And I think this is why your client wants Bean," she whispered, "they want him for what he can do." It was quiet between them, the words hanging in the air.

"Answer my second question," the Mandalorian ordered, tilting his helmet in a threatening manner. She felt her chest hollow with fear, but raised her chin with defiance despite her trembling bottom lip, and glared at him. "We are connected in our minds," was what she settled on, "What he feels, I feel as well."

"That's impossible," the bounty hunter scoffed, turning his head towards Kuiil as if to gather a second opinion. Kuiil harrumphed, face set into a frown when he looked over his shoulder.

"I have heard of stories like these," the Ugnaught said haltingly. "Stories in which great warriors have bonded within their minds to become more efficient in battle." Kuiil caught her gaze, and nodded gravely. "Even if I have not heard of a child and its caretaker being bound in this manner, I would not dismiss her claims. It could very well be."

The Mandalorian's helmet was turned towards them, and she tightened her hold on Bean. His visor was trained on them, and Elana looked away, clenching her jaw, thumb tracing over the baby's cheek. The blurrg moved slowly and steadily, and they made rest after it had long become dark. Not a word was said as the Ugnaught and her shared a meal while the Mandalorian sat behind the large pile of parts for the Razor Crest, eating on his own. When they went to sleep that night, Elana could not get the strange feeling out of her chest, the memory of what Bean had done echoing in her mind, the way she had felt it through her body.

The next day passed, and other than a few words between Kuiil and the Mandalorian, nothing was said. Elana spent the entire time either holding Bean, watching the landscape lost in her thoughts, or glaring at the Mandalorian. It was one of the most uncomfortable days she had ever had the displeasure to witness, and she was still absolutely fuming. Elana stewed in silence, laying out argument after argument with which she could verbally destroy the bounty hunter. More and more complex wording and phrasing started to pop up in her mind, and with a distinct sense of vindication she slowly felt like she could rip him a new one successfully.

Not that she actually voiced them out loud.

Elana still wanted to live, thank you very much.

The threat of him becoming violent again made her bite her tongue, swallow the accusations down, because Bean would not be safe if she got gunned down. Elana had to stay alive for Bean, she had to make sure that he had someone that cared about him, someone who gives him the love he deserved. She had not let go of Bean the entire time they traveled, unwilling to put him into his pram even as he got heavy, just wanting to feel him against her, breathing steadily, even if the bond between them was nothing but an empty echo.

When they set out on the next day, Kuiil tried to strike up conversation, clearly as done with the uncomfortable silence as she was. It continued the entire day long, small talk occasionally breaking up the tension in the air that could be cut with a knife, and Elana was honestly glad when they arrived at the mess the Jawas had left behind. She stared at the Mandalorian's gutted ship as they slowly neared, the blurrg swaying steadily. As soon as they stopped in front of it, the Mandalorian and Kuiil jumped off the sled and started to inspect the state that the ship was in.

"There is no way we're gonna get this to work without a full maintenance facility," the Mandalorian stated, staring up at his ship, shoulders slumped.

Elana refused to feel bad about the defeated tone in his voice, knowing that as soon as the ship was repaired, they would head off to Nevarro. Kuiil lifted a tool bag out of the sled, and started to heave it towards the ship.

"This is gonna take days to fix," the Mandalorian sighed, looking around.

"If you care to help, it might go faster," Kuiil said, and set the bag down, handing a part to the Mandalorian, "There is much work to do." The Mandalorian just sighed again, and took the offered part. Then, he walked over to the Razor Crest, and started to fiddle with something on the landing gear. Kuiil nodded approvingly, before looking at her.

"What about Elana?" Kuiil asked loudly, and the Mandalorian looked over his shoulder.

"She looks after the quarry," was his response, "He should be waking up soon."

Elana stared hard at him, both for his assumption that she could not help, that she was only good for keeping an eye on Bean, and for the condescending tone he had used. Blowing out air in annoyance, she folded her legs, sat up straight, and simply watched them start work on the ship. Bean made a soft noise, and Elana looked at him, but the hope rising in her chest was quickly crushed when there was still not a single nudge over the bond. She sighed heavily, heart feeling like it was breaking into two. This just keeps getting worse.

After an hour of them working, Kuiil looked up at the sky and announced: "It is late, we will need to get sleep if we are to continue this."

The Mandalorian made a noise in protest. "We have good momentum right now," he said, stalking around the corner where he had been repairing a part of the ramp.

"We will continue tomorrow," Kuiil said decidedly, and set down his tools, walking over to the sledge, "I will take the blurrg and head to my farm. The sledge can stay here. I have spoken."

Elana watched as the Ugnaught pressed a few buttons, and the sledge disengaged with a hiss. "I shall return. Good night."

"Good night," the Mandalorian sighed.

Elana simply nodded at him, and Kuiil gave a small smile that was probably meant to be encouraging. Patting the side of the blurrg with his foot several times, the creature turned with a loud huff, and started to waddle off in the direction of Kuiil's farm.

"Has he woken up?" The Mandalorian asked when the Ugnaught was some distance away. Elana tensed, a breath escaping her as fear coursed through her veins, and she forced herself to look at the bounty hunter, unwilling to show weakness.

"No," she answered, barely stopping herself from glaring at him, "I don't know when he will."

He said nothing, but his shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. The only reason Elana noticed it was because she was looking at them to avoid looking into his face.

"Have you eaten?" Elana asked, and cursed herself in the same moment, the question slipping out almost without her noticing. He was quiet, just looking at her.

"No," he said after a short while. Elana frowned, and tugged her rucksack close.

"Here," she said, pulling two ration bars out, and tossing them to him, "I don't think you've eaten since before yesterday."

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet at her. "I didn't think you noticed," he said, and his voice held a tone she could not place. Was it mocking? Defensive? Or something different?

She resisted the urge to scoff at him, and explained instead: "You don't eat regularly. When you're in company, you don't eat, that's not healthy." He said nothing, and Elana felt herself become indignant, some part in her unable to comprehend why a grown man would just forgo food, especially a bounty hunter like him. "Is it normal that you simply don't eat? What species are you, can you store food over long periods?"

He did not answer, but his fingers curled around the ration packets.

"And all that Jawa business, I don't think you ate then either? I'm sorry if I'm overstepping but that doesn't seem healthy."

"I had some stims before I went to get the egg," he muttered.

Elana raised an eyebrow, staring at him. "You mean to tell me that you went to fight a Mudhorn with no food, no water, only some stims?"

"I had water," he corrected.

"That does not improve your situation," Elana said, crossing her arms, "Do you have a death wish or are you just acting like it?"

He tilted his helmet at her, and the amount of annoyance he could convey without saying a single word was astonishing.

"You know, running on stims is not--"

"Are you the baby's caretaker or mine?" The Mandalorian asked dryly.

Elana glared at him. "Seems like I have to, if you're stupid enough to fight a Mudhorn on stims."

"Cut the sass," The Mandalorian growled, stepping closer, towering above her.

"Make me," she snarled without thinking, scooting back until her back hit the spare parts on the sledge, curling a protective arm around the sleeping Bean.

He seemed to realise that he was too close, and backed off without a word, hand clenched around the ration bars. Elana got out the water bottle, and set it on the edge of the sledge by reaching forwards, and leaned back as soon as the metal bottle was standing safely. The Mandalorian gave her a nod, and she glared at him in response, feeling the fear of him starting to take over again.

"Thank you," he said, before turning around, disappearing behind the Razor Crest.

Elana scrunched her nose at him, took out a ration for herself and bit into it viciously while cursing the Mandalorian in her mind. Cursing him for being an asshole. Cursing him for being their captor. Cursing him because she could do nothing but curse and hope for some kind of escape. Cursing him because Bean would not wake up.

When he finally came back, he handed her a noticeably lighter water bottle, but she did not comment. Without looking at the Mandalorian, she took out a clean shirt of hers, carefully poured water on it, and opened Bean's mouth. She made him suck on the fabric so he could at least get some moisture without the risk of choking on the water. Repeating the process a few times, the little one instinctively drinking, she sighed in relief when Bean smiled in his sleep, and cuddled closer to her, ignoring the Mandalorian who watched her. He is all right, she told herself, and put a kiss onto the baby's forehead.

"Can you move the pram?" Elana requested after gathering the courage to open her mouth, and the Mandalorian gave a start.

"Of course," he rasped out, and manoeuvred the pod right next to her. She put Bean into it carefully, and tucked the blankets into his side, keeping him warm. Then, closing the pram with a press of the button, she sighed. Taking the water bottle, Elana drank the rest of the water herself, grimacing at how there was not enough left for how dry her throat felt.

Turning the moisture bead on, she slumped into herself, feeling the days catching up on her. She was unbelievably tired. "Were the Jawas happy? When you gave them the egg?" Elana asked, thoughts far away, eyes on the stars above them.

The Mandalorian gave something that could have been an amused huff. "Yeah," he said, "Yelled a lot again."

"Suga," Elana quoted quietly, shaking her head, somehow missing the little robed creatures. They have been strange, but kind in the end, careful with their treatment of them.

"Suga," the Mandalorian agreed, derision in his voice, "If I never have to deal with them again it would be too soon." Elana suppressed a snort and blamed it on how tired she was instead of the sarcastic note in his voice. "Good night," she told him after a while in silence, and turned around, back facing him. He said nothing for a long time, but she heard him perfectly when he said "Night" back, voice crackling through the vocoder.

When Elana awoke the next day, the Ugnaught was just arriving, jumping down from his blurrg mount, the creature giving a low purr.

"Good morning," Kuiil said, patting the bag he had on his side, "I brought breakfast."

Elana sat up, rubbing her hands over her face, and yawned. "Thank you," she told Kuiil, smiling through another yawn. The Mandalorian was already up and fiddling with his broken chestplate. Elana stared at the wiring that was visible, and marvelled at how intricately it was built into the armour. It was exquisite craftsmanship even without the technical gadgets surrounding it, and she suddenly understood how he was able to regulate his temperature on a desert planet without difficulties.

She was envious of it and was not even able to deny it. Elana brought herself into an upright position, walking on her knees to the pram, and checking on Bean. Her heart sank. He was still sleeping, nothing changed. Bean must not even have moved much during the night. Kuiil set down his bag and pulled out three mugs and plates, as well as a big thermos, packets of instant bread and a few cacti fruits.

"We can eat here while you can eat on the ship," Kuiil told the Mandalorian, who nodded at him.

"Thanks. It's very kind of you," he said, taking the portion from him and waiting for Kuiil to unscrew the thermos, who then poured a generous amount of caf into the mug, and left for the ship. The Ugnaught settled down on the sledge as well, and poured the rest of the caf into their respective mugs.

Starting to nibble at one of the cacti fruits, Elana propped a knee up, resting her arm on it. "I'm hoping we're not eating all of your food," she said to Kuiil, "I would hate to be a burden to you."

"You are my guests, and I am therefore in your service," Kuiil responded, "I can assure you, you are not a burden."

"Why are you helping the Mandalorian?" Elana asked after hesitating for a while,

The Ugnaught sighed. "There is no peace on Arvala-7. There are always bounty hunters arriving, without fail, all seeking the same bounty."

Elana frowned, looking at him in a mixture of sympathy and confusion.

"This little child has caught the eye of some high-up Imperial, if I had to guess," Elana felt her blood run cold at the confirmation of her fears, "And they will not stop until they get what they want."

Imperials.

It was not the first time that her mind had wandered since they had left the encampment. She had been thinking about every one who could want them, who could have enough money to keep the bounty hunters coming. It could have been some crazy collector, it could have been Bean's parents, it could have also been fanatic remnants of the Empire who wanted the child for his powers. Kuiil just confirmed what she had feared the most, and Elana was struggling to comprehend it.

"I want my valley to know peace," Kuiil said, looking imploringly at her, brows furrowed, "And peace will only come when the bounty hunters stop."

Elana looked at Bean, who was snoring peacefully. "And you are willing to have peace in exchange of an innocent child?" Elana asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"I did not say that," he sighed, "But it is not in my hands anyways. The Mandalorian has claimed him as his bounty, and it is in his hands now."

"You could help us," she whispered, looking him straight in his eyes, desperate, "you could help us escape."

Kuiil shook his head. "Even if I wanted to, and I do, I cannot. My farm would be the first place the Mandalorian would look for you, and the end result would be the same."

"So you're just letting him take us away?" Elana hissed, feeling anger rise in her, "You would sacrifice Bean for the sake of your valley?"

He looked at her evenly, an unspoken grief lingering behind his eyes that made her pause. "Where are you from, Elana?" Kuill suddenly asked.

"Alderaan," she answered, "What does that have to do with anything?"

The Ugnaught hummed. "If a choice had to be made, between Alderaan or your princess, which one would you have chosen?"

Elana reared back, mouth dropping open. "This is nothing close to it," she pressed out between gritted teeth, eyes shooting daggers at him.

"Is it not? A place to keep safe and a person to sacrifice. Would you have sacrificed your princess if it meant that Alderaan would have survived?"

"That is a vile thing to ask, Kuiil." Eyes blinking fast, she refused to let the tears collect, refused to let him see how he had struck a nerve.

"I'm just hoping that you can understand my point. Both options are wretched, but if it was between a valley I protect and a child I do not know--"

She jumped up, furious, "Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Elana yelled, burning up in rage, "You don't get to make that decision!" Kuiil looked at her, wise eyes that saw straight into her soul stripping every layer she had away.

"Listen here, Ugnaught," she snarled, "I will do anything to protect Bean, I don't care if this entire planet burns! He deserves to grow up, not being experimented on by Imperials for the rest of his life!"

"If you would condemn an entire planet to burn, you would give up many that are just like him," Kuiil pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Chest heaving, she stared at him, jaw clenched together. "Thank you for the breakfast," she said as calmly as she could, "I'll leave now." Scooping Bean up in her arms, she started to stalk away.

"Where do you think you are going?" The Mandalorian asked, standing on the ramp of his ship.

"I'm going to get some air," Elana snapped, "Don't worry, you'll be able to find us."

"You're staying here," he commanded, annoyance in his voice

"I don't care," she spat, glaring at him. With those words, she walked further to stew in silence, knowing fully that the reaction she had was childish. But she thought they could cut her some slack, and if they would not?

She would make them.

Clutching Bean close to her, she dropped down on a comfortable rock, with some overhead shelter should she choose to stay away for a longer time, and far away so she would not have to put up with them.

Leaning against the rocky wall, knees bent slightly and Bean snoring on her lap, she did her best to breathe deeply, trying to calm down. "Bean, honey, now would be a good time to wake up, don't you think?" Elana whispered to him, fighting back her tears, "It would be perfect if you would wake up this moment." Bean just let out a rattling snore, making her laugh slightly, burying her face into his belly as her shoulders shook.

"I guess that's fine as well," she huffed, smile watery, "but could you wake up? Please? I worry about you." Letting her fingers trace over his face carefully, over his brows, the wrinkles on his head, the closed eyelids, his cheeks, she sighed. "Why is the bond broken, sweetpea?" Elana asked as if he would answer, staring hard at his little features, "Why can't I feel you now?" There was no response, no answer, not through him stirring or a flicker across the bond.

Elana pulled him close, and closed her eyes, resting her cheek on the top of his head, feeling his weight and warmth on her body, and she tried to let herself be soothed by it. "I miss you, Bean," she whispered, "Please wake up soon. I love you, okay?"

After about half an hour later, the Mandalorian appeared, the water bottle in his hand. "Here," he said, and threw it on the sand next to her feet, along with the shirt she had used yesterday, but tossed that in her lap.

She stared up at him, frowning. "Thanks?" Elana asked, squinting at him, the sun at his back and in her eyes.

"You can stay in the shade if you want to," he offered, gesturing to her.

"Thank you," she said, secretly grateful that he did not expect or want her to help with the repairs in the midday sun. Not that she was the most experienced at it anyways.

"Does the baby need anything else?"

Elana shook her head, "He only needs to wake up."

The Mandalorian was quiet for a moment. "Do you know when he will wake up?"

It did not slip by her how he had deliberately used the word when instead of if, for which Elana was thankful. It was a consideration she did not think he would give her.

"I don't know," she confessed, looking away, and then to Bean, "I hope soon."

After a nod at her, the Mandalorian walked back to the Razor Crest, where Kuiil was currently soldering something. Scowling at the sight of the Ugnaught, she watched the Mandalorian go, the beskar pauldron and his helmet glinting in the sunlight. Sighing to herself, she drank some water, and gave Bean a bit as well. Were her eyes deceiving her or did Bean drink more water today? Was he dehydrated or was he starting to wake up? But despite her hopes, he did not open his beautiful dark eyes that day.

Or the day after.

On the fifth day after the Mudhorn incident, Elana was starting to go crazy. She had managed not to burst into tears in front of Kuiil and the Mandalorian, but they could probably still tell when she had cried, or tried to hide it. She was grateful for them not mentioning a word when she started to help with the rebuilding of the Mandalorian's ship, despite being below average at it. If Bean had been awake, she probably would not have helped at all, trying to prolong the time between them leaving Arvala-7 and getting to the suspected Imperial client. But doing nothing was driving her mad. Completely, utterly mad with worry over the small baby, and the only times when that worry was lifted from her shoulders was when she was neck deep into wiring and parts and tools.

They did not comment, and she gritted her teeth, checking on Bean every hour, getting more jittery the longer he stayed asleep.

When she woke with puffy red eyes, the only thing the Mandalorian would do was hand her the water bottle along with a ration pack, T-visor turned away from her in a resemblance of privacy. Kuiil had let them use his sonic washing machine as well, so the days were actually the most bearable since the encampment, with clean clothes, regular food and water breaks, and enough time to sleep.

But they were still hell for Elana.

When finally, after almost seven days of silence over the bond, something flickered across it, Elana dropped the part she was holding without preamble, and rushed to the pram, kneeling in front of it.

Bean was starting to stir.

Bean was starting to stir!

He started to frown, flailing his limbs around, fingers flexing, nose twitching. Elana did not think, just got him out of the pram, and sat down on her heels. She put him on her lap, and waited with bated breath. The green child started to whine lowly, scrunching his eyes shut even more before slowly blinking up at her. She laughed, smile watery and eyes misty. "Bean!" Elana gasped, pulling him close to her, squishing him in her arms, "You're awake!"

"Mwa," he told her, voice a bit raspy, and raised his little claws to her face. Crying in joy, she pressed their foreheads against each other, relishing in the way the bond suddenly opened wide. It was as if a tidal wave of power rushed over her, the beautiful, familiar and dearly missed sensation of their minds connecting with each other. Knowing exactly what he felt right now, his own relief mingled with hers.

"Oh, Bean," she told him, voice thick, "oh, sweetpea, honey, the best baby in the whole galaxy--" Elana showered him with kisses while he giggled under the onslaught, and she felt as if the entire weight of the world was dropped off her shoulders at once. Repeating his name as if it were a prayer, she pressed their foreheads together again, his little hands patting at where her face was wet from her tears.

"Mwa," he cooed, giggling brightly when she playfully scrunched her nose at him, ears pointing high. He turned his head towards something behind her, and made a loud happy noise, his face lighting up with a bright smile. Elana followed his gaze and saw the Mandalorian standing there, watching them.

"He's awake!" Elana beamed at the bounty hunter, too relieved to care about her dislike and fear of the man.

He tilted his helmet slightly. "I can see that," he said, and he sounded like he was smiling. Bean cooed loudly, clearly excited to see the Mandalorian, wriggled in her hold and tried to get to him. Elana released the baby from her grip, and watched as the bundle of brown robes made his way to the Mandalorian, trilling at him in exhilaration. It was hilarious to see the big bounty hunter stumbling back from the little bean on the ground, trying to avoid the overeager baby.

Searching the bond, Elana realised why Bean was so excited. "He is happy to see you. He was not sure if he had saved you in time," she spoke, looking at the Mandalorian, "He thought the Mudhorn got you."

Deftly avoiding Bean trying to grab his boot, the Mandalorian stared at her. "He's happy to see me?" He sounded dumbfounded, T-visor whipping down to where Bean had succeeded in catching his shoe, and cooed up at him.

"Obviously," Elana said, unable to make her voice dry in the light of Bean's happiness. The Mandalorian sighed deeply, shoulders slumping as the baby tightened his hold on his leg even more, completely enamoured with the man.

Kuiil appeared, pulling his goggles off and setting them on top of his head. "I'm glad the child awoke," he said, smiling at the overexcited Bean.

Bean's tummy made a loud grumble at that moment, and he turned his head, frowning up at her, patting the offending area while whining. Elana could not help her laugh at his face. The Mandalorian sighed again, and she knelt next to him, carefully prying Bean away. She placed him on her hip, and Elana beamed at being able to do the familiar motion again. "We'll get you something to eat, sweetpea, don't you worry," she told him, and made her way past the Mandalorian and the Ugnaught, towards the makeshift table with ration bars and jerky on it.

As soon as she had a packet in her hand, Bean reached out, took it, and bit into it with the packaging still on. Whining again, looking up at her with big watery eyes and a pout on his lips, he patted his tummy once more. She quickly removed the packaging and watched as he tucked in, eating the whole bar in two bites.

"Do you want more?" Elana asked, and when he reached out to the pile again, she set him on the ground carefully before getting another bar, opening it for him. In the end it took three ration bars and a jerky strip before the baby gave a satisfied burp, and after some gulps of water, he waddled to her, buried his face in her stomach and cooed.

"I missed you too, Bean," Elana murmured, rubbing the small one's back soothingly, "Don't scare me like that again, all right?"

……………

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

Huge shout out to @mndalorians for smoothing over everything and both dealing with my grammar and general nonsense (like our discourse with @teaofpeach today lmao)

Tags: @binggrae-banana-milk @b0n-chann @pisss-offf-ghostt @chibi-liz05 @din-damn-djarin @soldade @yourexcellentboiiii @chaotic-noceur @ezrasarm @hdlynn @mndalorians @over300books @agirllovespancakes @crookedmoonsaultpunk @teaofpeach @shadylightbearherring @mitchi-c @concussed-to-pieces @adikaofmandalore @buckythewhitewolfx @thirstworldproblemss

#the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x oc #pedro pascal #oloreaa writes #vencuyanir

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talesofstyles · 5 years ago

Note

It would be so cute to see Harry handling his lil toddler having a tantrum. He’d be so torn because he doesn’t want to say no to his lil one but he knows he’ll get in trouble if you know that he gives in 🥺

omg yes 🥺🥺🥺 i turned this into a little blurb cause its just so cute hope its ok. also i wanted to try and write from harry’s pov and i figured why not fgshshhs hope you like it!

—

Okay, I’ve got this.

She’s two years old. I’m thirty-one. That makes me the adult between the two of us, and as the adult I’m supposed to be the one in charge, right? But the thing is, I’m not sure my daughter agrees with me. She’s currently having a meltdown in the middle of the fourth floor in Harrods because I won’t buy her a toy pig. My wife is downstairs browsing through maternity clothes and I offered to take our little rascal here to the toy section to distract her because she was causing havoc there. Somehow she thought it was funny to pull every single one of the scarves from the display as she ran away across the store to escape from me and her mum, and as I ran after her my wife could only give half smile, half wince to the sales assistants and apologised for our daughter.

Honestly, I don’t understand why she’s so keen on getting that Porky Pig shaped cuddly toy. I mean, does she even know what that is? She has never watched Looney Tunes in her life. Luckily at 11 in the morning on a Tuesday there aren’t many people here, but it’s not completely empty either and I can feel that they’re already staring at us. Should I just give in and get the bloody pig? On any other day I would just buy it without a second thought, but last night my wife and I had a long talk about parenting, mostly about setting limits and standing on our grounds because to be honest lately Minnie has been quite a handful.

But look, it’s just a pig. Buying my daughter a toy pig doesn’t make me a terrible father, right? If any of those parenting books that I crammed months before she was born taught me anything, that is to ‘pick your fight’, and this isn’t worth it. But then my eyes fall on the price tag, two hundred and forty nine pounds, and I know if I get that I’m definitely sleeping on the couch tonight.

Clad in rosewood pink Baby Dior collection from head to toe (I dressed her this morning. God, she’s adorable. No wonder people have been stopping in their tracks when they see us just to ‘aww’ and gush at our little girl), she tries to wiggle away from me as I desperately try to snatch the toy from her while still holding her other hand so that she won’t be able to run away.

“Minnie, poppet, give daddy the piggy, yeah?” I try to persuade her as I crouch down to be at her level, trying my best to keep my cool and ignore the judging glances from strangers. “We need to go and find mummy.”

“Miiiiiine!” She exclaims, hugging the toy pig to her ear as though it’s her newborn infant and I’m Herod. I can’t help but roll my eyes. She’s such a drama queen. The cutest drama queen in town, but still a drama queen.

“This is not yours, darling,” I continue. “You’ve got plenty of stuffies already at home.”

Which is true. I swear our home is only two stuffed animals away before people start assuming it’s a Jellycat warehouse.

“Piggyyyy!” She cries hysterically. Her little eyebrows are knitted in fury and she’s drawing breath to shriek again. “Daddy, miiiiine!”

“Put. It. Back,” I try to take the pig from her again. Honestly, for a two year old she’s so bloody strong. “That’s. Not. Yours.”

Much to my surprise, she stops trying to wiggle away. She has stilled for a moment, and I’m about to look around, smiling at people around me as if to say ‘watch this, I can so totally handle my two year old’. But it’s a good thing I decided not to boast, because it turns out that Minnie was only gathering her strength before she snatches the pig back from me and makes a run for it across the shop.

“Minnie!” I yell and begin running after her. God, not only she’s strong, she’s so bloody fast.

By the time I got her, I’m already out of breath. I really need to go back to the gym one of these days.

“Minnie, we need to put the piggy back,” I say softly, but in a firm manner. “It’s not yours, my love.”

“Miiiiiine!” Minnie’s wails turn to heart-rending sobs. “Mine piggyyyy!”

“Minnie, no-”

“Miiiine!” She cries, gripping the toy pig like a limpet and I can’t help but sigh.

“Miiiiiiine!”

“Minnie, stop it!” I hiss. “You’re embarrassing both of us.”

“Mine piggy,” she looks at me with puppy dog eyes. She’s definitely my little twin, there’s no doubt about that, but she gets her mummy’s eyes and every time I see them I feel like my heart could burst. Even in stressful times like this.

“You don’t need a piggy, poppet,” I try to convince her. “We’re not buying it. We don’t have any money.”

I don’t know why I said that. But I’m desperate. And much to my surprise she gradually stops wailing. Does it work? Oh god I can’t believe this.

“No money?” She asks in between hiccups, her grip on the toy pig loosens and she lets me wipe away her tears.

I shake my head, trying my best not to burst in laughter. “No, darling, we don’t have any money.”

“Okay,” she looks down at her shoes.

“I love you so much, poppet,” I kiss her cheek as she hands me the toy pig. I still can’t believe this. I’m so good at this parenting thing. Maybe if I get tired of my job one day I could replace Jo Frost from Supernanny. “I’m so proud of you. Now let’s go find mummy, yeah?”

I take her hand and we walk to the pram section on the other side of the store. I’m still beaming with pride knowing we’re even. Yes in case you’re wondering, I keep score: Minnie 1 (she threw her breakfast all over the floor) vs Me 1 (I didn’t buy her the two hundred quid pig).

“Mummyyyy!” Minnie lets go of my hand and runs towards her mum.

“Hey,” she smiles at us. “Took you awhile.”

“Certain someone had a little meltdown,” I tilt my head towards our two year old. “Now, have you found anything you like?”

“I quite like this one,” she says, pushing one of the prams, and I have to admit that it’s one of the most beautiful buggies I’ve ever seen. It has the combination of light and dark gray, and the leather on the handle is just beautiful. The sheepskin seat liner makes it look cosy and it looks perfectly sturdy.

“It’s Aston Martin,” the sales assistant says, approaching us. And I just look at her in confusion.

“They make buggies now?” I snort.

“They’ve partnered with Silver Cross,” she explains. “This is a limited edition, only 600 worldwide. With only three thousand pounds you get everything; the lie flat carrycot, footmuff with windproof fabrics and a cashmere baby blanket.”

Say what now? Three thousand bleeding quid for a pram?

“Should we get this?” My wife turns to me. “Here, give it a try.”

I take the handle from her and begin pushing. Holy cow. This baby is smooth. But is it worth three thousand pounds? I’m too busy looking at the features to realise Minnie already standing beside me, both her hands on her hips, looking at me fiercely.

“Put. It. Back,” she says sternly. “Is. Not. Yours.”

I blink at her in surprise. Who is she copying?

Oh. I think it’s me.

“What?” My wife laughs.

“We don’t have money, mummy,” she explains in a sorrowful voice. “No money.”

Honestly, this kid.

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fluff #harry styles concepts #harry styles drabbles #husband!harry #dad!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles ff #harry styles x yn #dad harry imagines #harry styles fics #harry styles one shot

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ebdaydreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Hawaiian shirts

Written for @viktorkrumn in the @b99fandomevents summer fic exhange.

Fandom: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)

Pairing: Peraltiago

Summary: It's the Peralta-Santiago's first summer together, and the funfair is in town. The result? Sugar, stuffed toys, competitions, and Hawaiian shirts.

[AO3]

It was a warm summer evening, quickly turning into a warm summer night. Screams of joy harmonised with circus music were the score of the evening, and the colourful lights from the travelling funfair were the scenery. It was the picture of family fun and childhood joy.

Not far from the funfair, bathed in its lights and the music echoing around them, Jake and Amy sat on a picnic bench, soaked to the bone, completely freezing as Mac giggled happily to himself, admiring his new Hawaiian shirt.

Jake tugged his own Hawaiin shirt a little more tightly around himself, pointedly watching Mac and not looking at Amy’s death stare.

“Well, this was a great idea.”

Earlier that day

“It’s a great idea! Come on, Ames, please?” Jake begged.

Amy rolled her eyes affectionately at him. “And who would look after Mac?”

“He’ll come with us!” Jake said.

Amy adjusted her hold on Mac to look more directly at Jake, “He’s only a few months old-”

“Yeah, Exactly!” Jake threw his arms up in the air, “he’ll have a great time!”

“There’s nothing for him to do. He can’t go on any of the rides, he can’t play any games, he can’t eat any of the snacks-”

“Wait,” Jake cut her off, suddenly seeming serious. “He can’t eat cotton candy yet?”

She cocked her head at him and said sternly, “No, he can’t.”

“But it’s just sugar! It melts in your mouth!” Jake waved his hands even more, then leant forwards to look Mac in the eyes. “Sorry bud, gonna have to wait a bit longer on that one. Don’t worry, when you're older I’ll buy you all the candy you want.”

Amy hit his shoulder with the back of her hand but giggled at her husband’s dramatics. Jake didn’t flinch and just looked up at her adoringly. “Come on, Ames. He’ll love it.”

“He’ll be bored and crying the entire time,” she reasoned.

Jake straightened up, and after a quick gesture and a well-practised pass, he began bouncing their son gently. “I disagree, don’t you buddy?” He looked down, his entire face lit up, and Mac’s tiny fist bopped him on the nose. “He’ll love all the lights and the colours and the music, and they usually have some really little rides we can take him on, and we can win him a brand new teddy bear, can’t we Macky?”

Amy beamed at the scene in front of her, won over by Jake’s argument. But she wasn’t about to completely let him off. “And Daddy can buy a bunch of candy?”

“Well, yeah, obviously Daddy’s gonna buy a bunch of candy.”

Three hours later, the small family had ridden the small train ride, eaten five hotdogs between them, watched Mac scream with glee at the top of the Ferris wheel, lost at the ring toss, spun around madly on the spinning teacups and had just won some fluffy round toy at the hook-a-duck.

“I think we should call him Arnold,” Amy suggested as she studied the purple fluff ball, before placing it in Mac’s grabbing hands.

Jake offered his arm to Amy as he began to push the stroller, and she curled up beside him instantly. Jake planted a quick kiss to the top of her head before asking, “Why Arnold?”

“Because he looks like Ginny’s pygmy puff,” she explained, “from Harry Potter.”

Jake smiled, “That thing was called Arnold? I completely forgot. Wasn’t the Weasley owl called Errol?”

“Yup,” Amy grinned, pleased he remembered, “That family is terrible at naming things.”

Jake chuckled, “You think because there were so many of them they just ran out of ideas?”

Amy laughed, not one of the laughs where she split her sides laughing, but a smaller one, Jake noticed, softer, less like she found what he said funny but more that she was just so happy she had to let it out in a laugh. Jake matched it, feeling exactly the same. Ten years ago he never would have imagined that he would be here, at a funfair with his wife and his son, cracking jokes about Harry Potter, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world - in fact, he’d live this day a thousand times over if he could.

“Arnold it is then,” Jake said. “If this kid doesn’t grow up loving Harry Potter it’ll be a miracle.”

“Oh, he will love Harry Potter,” Amy said, her tone demanding. “He’ll hate J.K. Rowling, but he’ll love Harry Potter. You’re gonna read to him and do the voices, and I’ll explain to him how to consume media critically.”

Jake furrowed his brows. “And how old is he in this scenario?”

“Well, we’ll start reading it to him first, and I’ll ease him into the critical thinking once he’s old enough.” Jake could feel Amy buzzing beside him as the cogs in her brain began to turn, and Jake knew she was about to go into explicit detail about the syllabus she’d devised for their son.

And Jake swore he was about to listen, but a bright blue sign caught the corner of his eye and his brain jumped somewhere else.

“Ooo! Slushies!”

Jake heard Amy laugh behind him as he redirected the stroller to the stand.

“I’ll have a mix of every flavour. Ames, what do you want?” Jake asked his wife.

Amy shook her head. “I’ve had enough sugar for today. I don’t want to have to plan an emergency trip to the dentist anytime soon.”

Jake shrugged. “Suit yourself, babe.”

As Jake bounced in place waiting for his giant slush, Amy eyed the nearby stalls, trying to figure out which ones were scams and which ones were doable (they’d already lost enough at the ring toss), when a certain game caught Amy’s eye.

“I can’t wait to drink this,” Jake practically squealed, presenting his sugary monstrosity to her.

“And I can’t wait to take you to the dentist,” Amy joked, before turning to stare at him dead in the eye, “Right after I take you down.”

Jake raised his brow at her intensity, “Ok, I am officially both scared and turned on. What did you have in mind?”

Not breaking eye contact, Amy pointed at the stall labelled ‘Water Gun Fun’. “Winner gets to decide what we do next weekend. I hope you’re ready to learn because I have so many museums I want to take Mac to.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to get sand all over the car, because when I win we’re having a beach day.”

“Deal.”

And with the terms set, Amy grabbed the stroller and strode over to the stall with ferocity, aware Jake was walking at a much more relaxed pace behind her. She handed the money to the teenage girl manning the stall (who honestly looked a little afraid of her) and grabbed the water gun in hand.

She turned to her husband with a grin. “You ready-”

“Absolutely.”

“-to lose? The whole question was are you ready to lose, loser,” Amy fired back at him.

Jake’s smile of amusement morphed into a wicked grin. He lowered his multi-coloured slush, resting it in one of the pockets of Mac’s stroller.

“It’s on.”

“Ha! Say goodbye to your museums, Amy! We’re going on a beach day!” Jake cheered, selecting a giant teddy bear as a prize from the very confused teenager.

Amy giggled, “Jake! That bear is too big! It’s almost bigger than Mac!”

“So?” Jake shrugged. Who wouldn’t want a giant cuddle friend?”

Jake knelt down. “Ok, bud, if you just hold this-” he placed the slush next to Mac, “and then I can fit this-”

As Jake began stuffing the giant teddy bear into the pocket area underneath the pram, and Amy laughed at this ridiculous bear, neither of them noticed Mac’s attention leaving the fluffball Arnold, only to be drawn to the colourful object beside him.

“You’re never gonna fit that in there,” said Amy, lingering over his shoulder.

Jake batted her away. “Watch the magician at work, babe!”

But Amy never did get to see Jake’s supposed magic skills, as the next thing they knew was water falling down on them, only for them to realise that it was too cold to be rain, and too sticky to be water.

They looked down at their son, saw the empty plastic cup, and the colourful stains he was covered in.

“At least we got these dope matching shirts, Ames,” Jake tried to cheer his freezing cold wife up, gesturing to the Hawaiian shirts Jake had found at a nearby shop and insisted they had to buy to get out of their wet clothes.

Amy groaned, “We’re all gonna need a bath tonight.”

“Hey,” Jake reached across the table to put his hands on hers, “We had fun, right? And Mac had the time of his life.”

Amy huffed, “He’s not old enough to have had much else exciting happen to him.”

“But he will, but this was a pretty great start.”

Amy let a small smile out. “You are never having one of those things ever again.”

“Spoilsport,” Jake protested, but his smile got even wider.

#b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #my writing #b99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #mac peralta

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syms-things-5 · 4 years ago

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Nine

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language. Mentions of sex.

Summary: The morning after the night before....

Chapter Nine

The party was slowly winding down and all that was left were the usual stragglers he had to typically encourage out of the door at 3am when he was tired or when someone was demanding his attention. On this occasion, he didn’t have the energy for either. Instead, he stood alone in his kitchen looking out of the window at his open terrace lit by multi-coloured string lights his mother had moved from inside the hallway to avoid anyone tripping on them. She had never quite lost that teacher’s mentality and had spent the last few hours of the night following people around and gathering their empties despite Scott’s many, many protestations that she relax and enjoy herself.

He hated being sober at the end of a party, much less one of this own. He was never the designated driver among his friends. If you even remotely knew him, you knew he liked to unwind as much as possible between films no matter how much trouble it invariably got him into. Although he had been surprisingly restrained these past few weeks, a quiet birthday was still something of an anomaly.

He registered a faint hum of music coming from elsewhere in his apartment as he watched his friends milling around outside, no doubt sobering up from the festivities. Both his mother and Shanna had left an hour or so ago and as far as he knew Scott had crashed in a spare room, along since Zach hadn’t bothered to turn up.

He was soon stirred from his quiet contemplation, however, by Lucy clumsily bringing in some empty bottles and plates left lying around in his living room.

“You can leave them there. I’ll clear up later.” He instructed her before turning his attention back to the view in front of him, hoping it would be obvious he wanted her to leave. She placed the bottles on the side nearest to him but didn’t appear to be readying herself to move any time soon. He dearly hoped she hadn’t planned on staying over because, honestly, he didn’t have the energy to deal with two disappointed women in the same night.

She remained still and he could see her loitering with intent out of the corner of his eye. “You can call a cab if you like? There’s a number on the side.” He pointedly suggested, hoping she would get the hint without him having to be a dick on his birthday.

“That’s a shame.” she giggled. “Night’s still young, right?” She was doing that thing some women do when they want to seem casual but flirty at the same time, twisting on one of their ankles. It always bugged him for some reason. That she was awkwardly leaning on the counter kind of gave her away a little bit, like she could fall over at any moment.

Under different circumstances, yes, he may well have taken the bait. She did look cute in her heels and false eyelashes but outside of the group she was a loose part of, for want of a better word, he didn’t much enjoy her company. He didn’t have anything in common with her, she was just a friend of a friend’s girlfriend who seemed to tag along on any group nights out. The morning-after discomfort would simply not be worth it. He didn’t think it would be fair to take her to bed just to make himself feel better. He especially didn’t want to take her to bed in a misguided attempted at relieving himself of some pent-up Sarah-related frustration that had started gnawing away inside. He was almost certain he could still smell Sarah’s perfume and felt a bruise forming on the back of his shoulder blades. He remembered the look on her face in the moment she came; skin flushed and her lips red, soft, slightly dry from the short breaths she’d taken. He felt a short thrill bristle across his skin at that moment. He’d done that to her. He’d made her lost it completely.

“If you want, I could stay a while? It might be difficult to get a taxi now anyway and I was kinda hoping that we...” He was lost in his thoughts until he felt Lucy move a little closer to him.

“Look,” he managed to find the energy to turn to face her this time. “You’re sweet and everything but I’m just not in the mood, OK? I just want to go to bed. Alone.” He was firm but fair, he thought. He wasn’t interested in being ambiguous and certainly wasn’t interested in the mortified look that was now on her face so he grabbed the nearest piece of trash he could find and made for the back door in a bid to put this night to rest. She watched him leave and, embarrassed, left to find her coat and the friends she didn’t know all that well but would hopefully help her get back home again.

When he did finally get into bed, he couldn’t sleep. Was Sarah thinking about him? He should have stayed with her and got her to talk to him. They would definitely need to talk eventually. It was unavoidable. What if she couldn’t sleep either? What if she was reliving it in her mind, like he was? Maybe he should call her. What time was it? No, it was far too late. Even if she had been thinking about him, it would only be of regret and disappointment. Well, maybe not disappointment, he figured. She clearly got hers, too. But the regret? That was going to be a little harder to overcome and he didn’t much want to hear that in her voice at this hour.

He’d been up and down most of the night. His bedroom felt far too stuffy and uncomfortable, and blasting the aircon wasn’t enough to cool him down. Scott could have been dead for all he’d known at this point. He stayed in bed staring at the ceiling, mentally trying to reconcile how fast it took for Sarah to get him into that helpless state. It was unlike anything he had experienced before, the control she’d wielded over him. She’d clearly been just as frustrated as he had felt. Maybe it was cathartic for her in some way. He’d never seen her look so...abandoned. But she shouldn’t be allowing himself to think of his sister’s best friend that way. Hell, he shouldn’t allow himself to think of his own friend that way.

And Sarah was his friend. At one point or another, he considered her almost like a sister and he was sure she figured him more so in a brotherly way than anything else. There had been no ambiguity so far as their friendship was concerned. Had there? Had he missed something along the way? Maybe, if he was honest with himself, maybe there might have been a mild flirtation once or twice when he first met her. He’d always thought she was cute, ticked a few of his boxes for sure, and she was goofy which he liked but that seemed to be cut off at the source once Lisa started inviting her to Sunday lunches and he had the unpleasant experience of witnessing her throw up on Carly’s driveway following her and Shanna’s graduation party. Actually, that might have been more his fault but nonetheless fondly recalled how much she managed to drink before it happened. Fucking Irish blood, he’d joked at the time. She’d fit right in.

He didn’t want to lose their friendship, their bond. She’d been a sounding board for him when his relationships were playing on his mind and she could always be trusted to be straight with him even if he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to lose their inside jokes or the look she’d give him when she knew they were likely thinking the same thing. He didn’t want to lose the morning tussle they’d have over the newspapers after he’d crashed there the night before, or the impossibly soft towels she provided him with when he had a shower. He should have been a better friend to her. He should have listened more when she talked about Charlotte and her parents. God. Lately, he’d been such an idiot.

Realising it was pointless wasting away in his bedroom, he gathered his thoughts and finally got out of his bed. While he was in his bathroom, he thought through all the rational things he would say to her when he finally got the chance. Things had gotten crazy, he’d start with, but it was just a one-time thing. No need to let it ruin years of friendship. They could get passed this.

She’d be busy with work no doubt but he could wait. If she tried to avoid him, he could wait some more.

Can’t avoid him forever, right?

Sarah left for the hospital earlier that morning, opting to walk through the park to a Starbucks for the strongest coffee she could physically get her hands on. She hadn’t slept much and was contesting with a small hangover as well as the overwhelming sense of shame at what she had done. Shanna hadn’t surfaced before she made to leave for work which had been a blessing. She couldn’t face her just yet even if she had been awake. Shan for sure would want all the details from her meeting with Charlotte but she had zero clue what to say.

They finally called her name for collection and she quickly moved out of the queue to leave. She held the door open for a young lady fighting with a pram, and...

Oh God.

Sarah mentally kicked herself when it dawned on her. Sometime previous, following the end of a short-lived relationship, she had opted to come off contraception. In a moment of brazen and possibly drunken audacity, she had sworn to Shanna she was going to avoid men for a full year. She figured there wasn’t much point staying on anything if she was unlikely to be going to bed with anyone other than herself. An accident such as this is the reason she should have ignored her own stupid intuition. Lord knows, she had this conversation countless times with young patients who come through the hospital doors.

She continued walking to the hospital, thoughts alternating between how she might be able to get her hands on the morning-after-pill and how she could be so fucking stupid. You’d expect if anybody would be carrying around a condom in his wallet, it would be Chris. No. That’s not what she should be thinking about right now. It was on her as much as it was him. She pushed that thought aside and concentrated on getting to work as quickly as she could. Except...Except she would need to give a name and she couldn’t out her own down and sign off on it. That would raise a lot of questions and ones she couldn’t face right now. No. Someone would need to do it for her.

“Oh hey honey! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were in today. How was the party last night?” Audrey went in for a quick hug when seeing Sarah approach the reception desk. She handed her a thin file. “There’s a Mr Carlson in cubicle seven. Says he knows you from last week? Do you want me to deal with him? He seemed OK to me to be honest so probably just after someone to talk to. What-” Audrey paused as Sarah grabbed her hand and walked her to a quiet corner away from the desk and people waiting nearby. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Sarah couldn’t think of a response fast enough. She could feel her skin getting redder, her palms sweating from the alarm currently coursing through her veins. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Nothing would have made much sense anyway. Too much time had passed.

“Sarah, what’s wrong? You’ve gone really pale and it’s weirding me out.” Audrey whispered. Sarah was looking at her like she was staring at a ghost.

“I need you to sign off on a pill for me.” she finally offered, not intending to be quite so blunt. Maybe the coffee had been too strong.

“A pill? What kind of...?“ The it dawned on her. “Sarah, did something happen with you and Greg last night?” Audrey whispered, trying to cover the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. God, maybe her interference was finally paying off.

“No, not Greg.” Sarah closed her eyes and pinched her forehead like she did when she was trying to figure something out in her mind. “I can’t explain right not but trust me, it’s not big deal, OK? I just need your help with this.”

Audrey nodded slowly, calmly. “Of course, honey. But this is for you, right?” Sarah’s silence answered her question. “Did something happen at Chris’s party? Did you hook up with one of his friends?”

“Audrey, please...”

“OK, OK. I’m sorry. Look, you get yourself together in the locker room and I’ll come find you in five minutes, OK? Don’t worry.” Audrey gently rubbed her arm and Sarah nodded before they split off into different directions.

Sarah chucked her bag into her locker and slumped down onto the bench beside her. Her head felt heavy and she could feel the migraine come back and thump her from one side. She straightened up her back and took some deep breaths, mentally counting to ten in her mind. That didn’t work. Why did she even bother suggesting it to people?

She carried on her breathing when Audrey reappeared with a small plastic capsule and a bottle of water. She handed both to Sarah and took a seat beside her, watching her down them before working to steady her breathing again. She gently rubbed the top of her back and smiled at her. It was a comfort.

“Thanks. Not just for this but for understanding.” Sarah said quietly, unsure. She could hear her voice shake and was hoping Audrey wouldn’t press for more details, not yet anyway.

“It’s OK. You don’t need to explain anything to me. I’m just glad you’re getting back out there.” Audrey smiled. “You can tell me to fuck off but...was it Luke? I think Chris mentioned once that he had a thing for you, y’know? I don’t think I ever mentioned to you. He seemed nice.”

Sarah appreciated Audrey trying her best to help but it didn’t seem to be having the desired effect. The two sat in quiet for a minute, Audrey continuing to gently rub her hand up and down Sarah’s back. She was confident that Sarah would talk to her when she finally felt up to it.

“If you need to go home, I can cover for you. We have those interns starting today and I can put them on the less emergency cases. Might do them some good to build up their bedside manner.”

Sarah shook her head, a little more determined now. “No, it’s fine. I just need a minute and I’ll be with you.”

Audrey didn’t look convinced by the smile Sarah offered but she accepted it regardless. She gave Sarah a kiss on the cheek and left her in the locker room to gather her thoughts.

Sarah could hear the chatter from outside her front door as she reached the top of the stairs. Shan sounded like she was reminiscing about something amusing or possibly embarrassing that had happened at the party and Lisa was laughing louder than she’d ever heard before. Just as she was about to turn the key, she heard Chris say something she couldn’t quite make out. She thought he sounded tired but realistically, how much could she tell through a door? She could feel her nerves getting the better of her. They were obviously all inside, having a nice time, leaving her to consider skipping out on returning home in favour of heading to some other place but, honestly, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she could go. She’d have to face him some time.

“Hey honey! How are you?” Lisa was the first to register Sarah’s arrival before Shanna turned around, all smiles, and Sarah felt her face grow about 10 degrees hotter. “We missed you last night. Shan thought she took some photographs on her phone but you should see them...” She burst out laughing again. “It’s a good job there was a professional there.”

Shan held her phone out for Sarah to see. “I really don’t know what I was doing.”

“The tequila shots probably didn’t help!” laugh Lisa. “We’re heading out for some dinner shortly. Do you want to come with? Are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sarah turned from shan to Lisa before clocking Chris, eyes looking at her above his coffee cup, face unreadable. “Yeh, um, I’m not really feeling great to be honest but you guys go. I’ll join another time.”

Lisa gave her a gentle hug. “Oh hun, you do look peaky. We can stay and order in if you’d prefer some company?”

“No, honestly, you guys should head out.” said Sarah, a little too quickly. “I think I’ll just head to bed anyway.” Sarah waved her hand to dismiss any concern Lisa had, trying to act as nonchalant as possible which unfortunately for her was not her forte. Shan didn’t buy it either but didn’t want to hang around long enough for them to give Sarah the third degree. Taking the hint, she began encouraging her family out of the door.

“We should head now if we wanna get a table. I’m sure they won’t believe it’s Chris with those huge bags under his eyes.” she said, throwing a dishrag at his face to snap him out of whatever was taking up space in his mind. “Do you want to help? You’ve been friggin’ useless all day.”

Chris merely shrugged and made some noise in the back of his throat and Sarah took that as her sign to get out of the way before they left.

When she heard the front door shut, the breath she had been holding in finally left her body. Relieved, she made her way to the bathroom and began to run a bath. She poured in some epsom salts and a dash of lavender oil and wafted the water around with her hand to get the bubbles going. She stripped from her clothes, glad to remove the day from her body, and got into her robe and slippers. The bath continued to fill up while she stared at herself in the mirror, blankly removing the last bit of mascara from her eyelashes. She didn’t usually choose to wear make-up for work but she had looked so tired that morning, she needed something. As her eyes scanned her face and neck, she clocked a small reddish bruise above her collarbone and gently ran her fingers over her skin.

She turned off the taps and walked down the hall to grab a drink from the kitchen. She tried to figure something to eat for herself but her relief was cut short as she came face to face with Chris still sat at the table, hands placed flat out in front of him.

“Sorry, I though you were going out for dinner?” She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

She tried her best not to look him directly in the eye and he knew it. He leaned back in his chair, hands now resting on this thighs in a mildly assertive stance. “I made an excuse. They think I’m going back to me place first.”

She was at least thankful for the relatively composed tone he was speaking in. It wasn’t a bad start, she thought. She wasn’t sure what to expect but he didn’t appear to be angry, at least not verbally. “Well, I’ll just grab my drink and get out of your way.”

Sarah busied herself with the cupboard as she fumbled around for a glass. She could feel his eyes boring a hole in the back of her head. She nearly dropped one, her skin felt so clammy, but she managed to get the water into it before attempting a hasty exit.

“Sarah, don’t.” He nearly got up from his chair but decided against it when he saw she stop. “We need to talk.”

He notice her shoulders slump as she slowly turned around to face him. He indicated the chair across from him and she sat down, nodding slowly in understanding. Now that he had her, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Any thoughts he had left his mind and he felt further away from her than the narrow kitchen table suggested. It was like they didn’t recognise each other now. She looked different to him, strangely softer around the edges. Perhaps more vulnerable. Beautiful without make-up.

He shook that thought from his mind and leaned forward in an attempt to make up some of the distance. “I didn’t really sleep much last night. Did you?” She shook her head. “I guess I felt kind of...guilty? About what happened?” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, you had that thing with your mom and I was just all...” He struggled to verbalise his thoughts and gave up with a sigh as he dropped his hands back onto the table in front of him. “I’m just so sorry, Sarah. I don’t really know what to say. I was just having a really shit time and Jenny kept texting me and I wasn’t in the mood for the party and all the photographs and I don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you or anything because honestly, that’s not what it was at all. I just think that maybe we-”

“-It’s OK, Chris. It’s not your fault.” she had meant that but was also keen to shut him up from ramblings that were, however unintentional, making her feel uneasy. “It was me as well. We shouldn’t have let things get that far.”

He nodded, not looking away from her while she was trying to focus on anything else but him. That made him sad. She was clutching the glass in her hand so tight he thought it might shatter. “I just don’t want to lose you. No, wait, that’s not what I meant. I mean I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“No, of course.” she nodded, encouragingly. “I don’t want that either and it’s not like we can avoid each other or anything so we’ll just have to find a way through it.”

“I wasn’t planning on avoiding you, Sarah, and i hope you don’t wanna avoid me.” he asked, struck by her choice of words. “Do you?”

“No, but... I mean, it’s a pretty shitty situation, right? It was so stupid. You know, I’m not impulsive or reckless like that and I feel awful. I didn’t want you to think I was using you or something.”

“I definitely don’t think that.” He leaned in, attempting to get her to look him in the eye. He contemplated reaching out and touching her arm, so close to him, but that might be a step too far and, in that moment, he realised she was out of her depth. She wasn’t a one-nighter whereas the vast majority of his hook-ups were and he came to the assumption that he was just more used to the act of upping-and-leaving without so much as a goodbye. And now he felt like shit.

He could count on the fingers of one hand the friendships that had evolved with women he’d slept with. Sex was often just sex to him. The joys of being a white, wealthy, good-looking man, he guessed. If things between them were going to correct themselves, he would need to think more conscientiously, like Sarah. He’d need to stop assuming that everyone felt the same way he did.

“We’re grown-ups, Sarah. Sometimes things happen that we can’t control. We both had crap days but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with finding a little comfort in someone you trust and I think we both got something out of it, right? We don’t need to beat ourselves up.”

He looked genuine, the lines across his forehead a little more prominent when he was being sincere. She recognised it as the tell he had when she watched him on screen, the one bit of “Chris” he couldn’t avoid showing. Maybe he’d rehearsed this in his mind beforehand like a script, or maybe he’d said these exact same things to other women. Neither thought was particularly consoling but she appreciated the effort at least. She just wished she could turn the clock back 24 hours.

“Listen, I hate to have to ask this right now but I kind of need to know.” he rubbed the back of his neck again. His voice was almost unintelligible. “I didn’t use anything, and...”

“Oh, it’s fine. I got something sorted this morning.” she nodded, hoping this conversation would end. “I’m OK.”

“Oh, right. OK.” Chris said, marginally relieved but kicking himself for sounding like a dick to her. She must have been worried, too. She probably thought he had these kinds of conversations dozens of times before and he briefly thought about informing her he usually carried something with him but perhaps that might not be the smartest thing to say right this instant. At least maintain the idea that he was a decent human being for a little while longer.

He could tell she was itching to get to someplace he wasn’t and despite their words to the contrary, he knew she wasn’t sure of herself, or of him. For the first time in a long time, he worried about losing a friendship that meant a hell of a lot to him.

“Let’s not beat ourselves up over this, yeh?” Chris asked. Possible pleaded. “You’re kind of a big deal to me, y’know?”

Sarah smiled back at him. “I’d like that as well. I think the water is getting cold so I’ll, um, I’ll leave you to it.”

“OK, sure. I’ll see you later probably.” Chris nodded and watched as she walked away back to the bathroom, pretty certain he wouldn’t see her again any time soon.

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fanfiction #chris fic #evans fic #Sarah Bernette #Clear The Area #chris evans x original female character

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feed-the-birdss · 6 years ago

Text

Forbidden Kisses

Summary: Lily and James have been forbidden to kiss.

Read it on Fanfic

It was a beautiful day in London. The sun was out, the sky was blue, mothers were out with their prams or holding chubby toddler hands as they strolled the busy streets, and the sound of children playing permeated the air that somehow tasted cleaner than usual. However, this beautiful day did nothing to soften the scowls on James Potter and Lily Evans’ faces.

The man with the impossibly messy black hair and glasses was gliding paces ahead of his red-haired and red-faced fiancé who was struggling to keep up with his long-legged stride. James’ hands were in his pockets, his head was down, and he was doing everything he could to ignore the pleasant mood that this beautiful day brought to the atmosphere. The only thing at the moment that was successful in being remotely comforting for him was the sound of Lily’s pants behind him.

James, however, was offering no extra comfort to Lily in return. In fact, she was more annoyed with him and his brisk walking than anything else right now. When it got to the point where James was more than a few paces ahead of her, she decided enough was enough, “James! For Merlin’s sake, will you slow down! Not all of us have freakishly long legs,” she yelled.

Lily’s voice seemed to snap James out of his brooding thoughts as he stopped and turned his head to look at her apologetically, “Sorry love, here,” he said as he waited for her to catch up with is hand held out for her to clutch onto. While both of them were still noticeably angry, the warmth of each other’s hand slowed down the beats of their racing hearts slightly.

When they got to an empty alleyway they proceeded to apparate right into their apartment. James then did the same thing he always did when he was angry about something which was pace, and Lily went straight for the small grey owl on their windowsill.

She opened the letter tied to the owl’s claw to see that it was from Dorcas, and James who was pacing by her, stopped to come up behind her to read the note over Lily’s shoulder.

I just heard about the announcement, are you guys okay? Dorcas

“Of course we’re not okay,” scoffed James. “I mean it’s ridiculous. I can’t do this Lils. You know I can’t. I might actually die,” he anguished.

“I know love. This is hard for me too, but what choice do we have?” pleaded Lily sounding like she was on the verge of tears as she turned around to face him and put her arms around his neck.

“Careful Lils,” said James sarcastically, “you better not hug me…Merlin knows what would happen if you do.”

“Shut up Potter. If I am forbidden to kiss you and make love to you, you can bet your arse that I am going to continue hugging and cuddling you,” assured Lily.

James let out a large sigh as he rested his forehead against Lily’s. His eyes went straight to her soft pink and inviting lips, “Fuck…I never thought they would be this ridiculous, but look at the lot of them. We shouldn’t be surprised, but—” he sighed again, “I just really want to kiss you and knowing that I can’t right now is killing me.”

“Come on. Let’s just take a nap. Neither of us got much sleep last night,” lamented Lily as she dragged her fiancé to their bedroom.

A few hours later, James woke with a start, as the sun that was shining that beautiful day in London had begun to shine through their bedroom window. He looked down at his chest to see red-hair splayed about all over and Lily sleeping peacefully. He could not believe this amazingly brave, kind and beautiful woman was going to be his wife. Every time he woke up to see her there with him was like diving straight into an ocean of relief. It wasn’t a dream, as Sirius had once tried to convince him; it was real, and they were together he thought smiling softly.

Gently, he pulled his body out from under her, and as he stood up over the bed, he instinctually went in to kiss her forehead, but stopped himself at the last second. His lips were a breath away from Lily’s perfectly kissable forehead. His peaceful mood from the nap now completely gone, he stood back up with a huff and headed over to the kitchen to make something for him and Lily to eat when she woke up.

While he was cooking, he couldn’t help but sulk about this torture he and Lily were being put through. Not being able to have sex with your fiancé was bad enough, but not be able to kiss should be listed as some sort of crime against humanity.

James was whisking his wand around the kitchen violently in the process of cooking Lily’s favorite meal that her mother used to make her. However, he did not notice that his violent wand waving was making an absolute mess.

Lily, who was woken up from her slumber due to all the slashing and banging noises, went to the kitchen to see what was going on. The sight that she was met with could instill one of these reactions with Lily Evans, soon-to-be Potter: number one, she would be pissed beyond belief at the absolute mess James was unconsciously making or, number two, she would be blinded to the mess at the mere cuteness of James attempting to make her a meal when, growing up with house-elves, he doesn’t know that he doesn’t know how to cook with or without a wand for shit.

Lily opted for the latter. “Need some help there love?” questioned Lily.

James, who was mid-wand-slice of the floating potatoes stopped his movements suddenly at the sound of her voice. The potatoes he was slicing clattered onto the countertop with multiple thumps.

He smiled at her. “Nah, I’m good. You can go read the rest of the mail,” he assured.

“Um okay, but sweetheart? You may want to actually turn on the heat for that….uh, soup, otherwise it will never cook,” she suggested.

“Right. Good idea, and it’s stew actually,” he corrected as he magicked the heat on under the pot filled with a yellowy looking mush. He figured he would tell her that it was her favorite stew when he served it.

Lily walked over to the small desk which held a smattering of letters while simultaneously mentally preparing herself to eat a yellowy mush that her fiancé was calling “stew”.

The letters were from the usual, her mother, James’ mother, Dorcas, Marlene and Remus. However, unusually, they all had something to say about the announcement made this morning and inquiring whether or not they were going to survive it. Probably not, Lily thought in response to the last letter from Alice asking the same question as all the others did.

“Lils, it’s ready,” called James from the kitchen.

Lily walked over to the kitchen and peered at the bowls James was spooning the now orange mush into. “Um, so James, what exactly is this?”

“Your mom gave me the recipe for that stew you like. So I thought I would make it, but I added sweet potatoes too because I know they’re your favorite vegetable,” he explained.

“You what?” sputtered Lily.

“What? Is that not okay? I just wanted to do something nice for you seeing as I can’t show you I love you tonight the way I usually can,” he finished with a wink and his customary arrogant smirk.

Lily gasped, still in shock that the boy who once turned her hair blue had turned into the most generous man she knew. “Shut up Potter. Don’t ruin just about one of the most thoughtful things you’ve done with your fat head,” said Lily tearfully.

“You like it?” asked James with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I love it! James this is just—” she paused as if to catch her bearings, “I love you!” Lily exclaimed jumping into James’ arms to give him a hug.

“I love you too Lils, so much,” proclaimed James as he hugged her back tightly and put his face in her neck. By burying his face in her neck, he hoped it would help him to refrain from kissing her.

Lily brought his face back up to hers and just stared at his lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss you so badly.”

“Now you know how I felt our last three years at Hogwarts,” breathed James as he closed his eyes so as to not be tempted by her lips. Especially now that he no longer had her neck as a distraction. However, her scent, as he breathed her in, wasn’t helping matters—fuck, her presence in general wasn’t helping matters.

James started to distract himself from the instinctual urge to just kiss Lily and drag her straight to the bedroom, by thinking of Snivellus. Lily, on the other hand, wasn’t having as much luck distracting herself, which is why she quietly breathed out a “screw it” against James’ lips and proceed to kiss him the way she’s been longing to since she’s been told they can’t.

Not even a few seconds into their passionate kiss, where James’ hands somehow landed on Lily’s arse and Lily’s hands were already beginning to unbutton the top button of James’ shirt, the unmistakable sound of someone apparating outside their door reached their ears. They sprung apart, looked at each other with wide terrified eyes, and said “fuck” at the exact same time.

That’s when the banging started, and both of them jumped into action. “Lily, get out of here, NOW! Let me handle this,” implored James.

“No! If you’re going down, then I am going down with you,” she said stubbornly.

“OPEN UP! I can hear you, and I know you have broken the rules!” yelled the voice outside their door.

“Fine stay, but please, for the love of Merlin, let me do the talking,” he begged.

“I make no promises,” she replied quietly getting her wand ready as James headed toward the door.

James unlocked the door with his wand, but before he could even reach for the knob to open it, the door shot open itself and in came a man who could pass for James Dean’s brother. He had shoulder length shiny black hair that was meticulously combed back into a neat, yet somehow still stylistically messy ponytail, a jaw that could cut glass and stormy grey eyes that were glaring right at the red-head who stared defiantly right back at him.

“Are you two fucking kidding me!? You couldn’t even go five hours without snogging!?” the handsome man bellowed. “Honestly, you two are bloody pathetic.”

“Calm the fuck down Padfoot! You asked too much of us, and you know it,” argued James.

“Of course I bloody well know it! Merlin knows you two love to fuck,” exclaimed Sirius making Lily and James blush, “but I had a bet going with Remus about how long you’d last, and given that you couldn’t last seven hours, I now owe that man ten fucking galleons, and I have half a mind to make you pathetic fools pay instead.”

“Fat chance of that,” scoffed Lily with an eye roll, “and fuck you! If you knew we wouldn’t be able to abide by this ridiculous request, why on earth did you forbid us from kissing or sleeping with each other until the wedding tomorrow night!?”

“Well YOU were the one that insisted on wearing white on your wedding even though you’re not a virgin,” fired Sirius.

“SO!? That’s most brides these days you absolute idiot!”

“I just wanted to make sure that you honored the tradition of the dress,” he explained with a shoulder shrug. Then he walked over to the couch to demonstrate that he no longer cared for the conversation, “so did one of you make dinner? Smells awful.”

“No Padfoot, we’re not done with this conversation,” demanded James. “You put Lily and I through absolute Hell—”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic Prongs,” interrupted Sirius with another eyeroll, “besides, you guys didn’t have to agree.”

“You know bloody well that’s not true! You threatened to not be my best man and to butcher your reception speech,” outraged James.

“Oh…yeah, right, well, don’t worry Prongs, I’ll still be your best man. It would be a little too late to get Moony or Wormtail to do it at this point anyway.”

“Exactly! Which is why we were forced to agree,” grumbled Lily.

“Well calm down love birds, you can kiss now if you want seeing as you’ve already broken the rules,” assured Sirius. “However, since you’ve broken the rules, I’ve decided to kidnap James and bring him to mine and Remus’ to stay until the wedding tomorrow night. So while you can kiss, there’s no way I am letting you two fuck tonight.”

“No, absolutely no! I won’t sleep with Lily, but you can bet your arse I’m sleeping with her—no! Wait! I mean, um, we won’t have sex, but we’re going to sleep in the same bed tonight!”

“Look Prongs, don’t even try, okay? I don’t fancy putting a chastity spell on soon-to-be Potter here, and I don’t trust you to not try something tonight, so eat up, snog up, and pack your stuff, cause you’re coming with me mate,” said Sirius confidently.

“Sirius, us not having sex tonight won’t make me wearing a white dress any less ironic,” reasoned Lily.

“No, but it might make the honeymoon better…well that, and it’s fun to watch you two suffer like this. I mean, I thought it would be Prongs to break, but Lilypad, who knew you had such an appetite,” he teased.

“Ugh, fine Sirius! Do whatever the fuck you want, but just make sure that James is at the wedding. I am just going to go stay with Marlene and Dorcas then,” she sighed defeatedly and made her way over to their room to pack her stuff.

“Aw Lils, are you embarrassed you broke before Prongsie here?” Sirius called after her.

“Leave her alone Sirius. You’ve put us both through enough today,” scolded James.

“Again with the bloody dramatics, but fine, we should get going soon anyway. So kiss your fiancé goodbye for the last time.”

James didn’t even answer. He just followed Lily into their room. “Hey love, are you okay with this?” he asked her as she was packing up some clothes.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I was going to have to go to their place tomorrow morning anyway seeing as they have the dress and all. So I may as well just go now,” she acknowledged.

James grabbed her hand as it was about to reach for a sweater in their dresser and used that hand to drag her to him and in his arms where she fit so familiarly. “You know, if this day has taught me anything, it’s that I now know that we have no choice but to get married,” he claimed as he proceeded to press his lips to her cheek and drag slow kisses down her jaw to her neck.

“What do you mean?” breathed Lily closing her eyes as he continued his ministrations on her neck.

“This day was actual torture for us, and it just made me realize that I don’t want to live another day without kissing you and being married is really the only way to ensure that for me,” he expressed as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Well, yeah, it’s a good thing you asked me then.”

James smiled at her and then kissed her for what, as Sirius rightly said, would be his last time kissing her when she was just his fiancé. After that, no one could forbid them from kissing or doing anything else for that matter.

#jily #jily canon #jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #jily fic #jily fandom #james potter #lily evans #lily potter #james x lily #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #forbidden #plot twist #feeding birds

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siyeonrk · 5 years ago

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MGA SEASON FIVE ! EP. 0 → PART THREE: INTERVIEW

this is the part that should really scare her. it scarcely matters how talented you are if you don’t have either the personality to match or to cover where you lack. some idols have both and still don’t make it, still go on shows like this and get pushed to the sidelines but siyeon knows it’s still the best way to make sure she’s liked by the staff enough to go through, and, if she makes it, the viewers so their support can keep her in the competition. she doesn’t know if this year will have viewer voting, but regardless, popularity can make or break a contestant, so it’s better to be safe than sorry. but she isn’t scared, really. it’s just talking, right? and she’s so good at that.

she wouldn’t say she has the most pleasant personality all the time. she’s not mean, she doesn’t think, but she is competitive when it comes to the things she holds closest. it’s this side of her that makes baking her best strength and weakness. the force of her love and passion for the hobby means she constantly improves but even the slightest threat from others has her body quaking with anger and her foot stomping in a tantrum. maybe she’s spoilt ( she is ) or maybe she’s just too confident ( she is ), but a girl who has grown up always surrounded by praise— it’s hard to take criticism on the things she believes herself to be the ‘best’ at.

thankfully, she knows she isn’t the next chichi’s nara or really any of the legendary group’s members, but she isn’t bad either. she’s not going to throw her toys out of the pram if someone can hit a higher note than she can, or move more smoothly to the melody than she can. disheartened, maybe, but not bitter.

point is, whilst she isn’t a monster, she isn’t a perfectly polite, picture-perfect idol type either. closer to that, she hopes, than the former, though. her parents ( or her grandparents for a lot of the time, really ) didn’t raise her to be needlessly cruel. outspoken, yes, but not cruel. all she has to do is think about her words before she opens her big mouth — not say anything that can be misconstrued. surely it’s got to be ridiculously hard to screw up answering simple questions. it’s not like they’re going to ask her for her political views or for an in-depth analysis of the industry... right?

she shuffles on the seat to ensure she’s comfortable before they start. the worst thing for a setting like this would be to fidget. she’d only look nervous and uncomfortable. boarding school had taught her this, at least, in all their etiquette lessons to force the rebellion out of teenage students. she’d done so many fake university and job interviews over the years that she’d honestly be disappointed in herself if she fucked this up.

“introduce yourself briefly.” the interviewer, an intimidating man probably in his late-thirties, asks her. she grins, a bright and happy smile because easy! an easy start is likely only to make her complacent for the rest of the questions, but at the very least, she can get this right.

“hello!” she waves to the camera, her movements fast but small. “my name is park siyeon! I’m nineteen and my favourite drink is a rich strawberry milkshake.” her eyes sparkle as she laughs airily. she wants to say more, talk about her baking, about how she lived abroad for almost three years, but he’s already moving on to the next question before she gets chance to suck in another breath.

the interviewer shuffles his papers after pointing out, “you listed mostly soloists for your favourite musicians.” an attempt to prompt her to somehow slander groups, she imagines. “tell us about your musical inspirations.”

she breathes in deeply through her nose but masks it with a hum quickly after. if she really wanted to overdo it, she’d tap her fingertip against her chin but she isn’t in a drama nor a cartoon, so she just smiles. “I really enjoy soft acoustic music! you know, the stuff you can put on your headphones and look out the car window and pretend you’re the lead in a drama. personally, I turn to music to relax so tunes that are gentler are perfect for that and there are so many great soloists out there for this vibe. but, I enjoy music across lots of genres! I really love k.arma and convex’s music so far! no playboy is definitely going to be in the top three of my ‘most played’ playlist at the end of the year.” she laughs louder this time, enough for its unusual side to shine through. “I like singing ballads because I love the emotions you can convey and feel listening and singing to them. I feel like the connection formed is so strong when you can feel the vocalist’s pain or joy through their voice.”

the interviewer waves a hand, nods to let her know she’s said enough for this question. they must have a set amount to get through. she waits patiently as the interviewer scans over her papers again.

“so why do you want to be an idol?”

she knew the question would come even if she didn’t fully accept it. they were bound to ask why she’s here in some way, shape or form, right? so why is she here? to try something new? to see if she can make it? to test a career she’d always considered in the deepest corners of her mind but pushed away? to just plainly see if success here would satisfy the empty, uncertain feeling about her future brewing in her stomach?

can she even say any of these to the interviewer?

quiet for a few beats too long, he prompts her once again to hurry. hastily, she laughs again, a little more nervous than anything but she hopes it’s infectious enough that no one really takes any notice to its deeper implications. “I really want to see if I can do it,” is all she says at first, biting on her bottom lip. “I’d always had a nagging thought in the back of my head watching idols on television and listening to music when I was younger— that maybe music was something I should consider for my future. when I went abroad for school, I kind of gave up on the possibility, pushed it to the back of my mind. but you never know unless you try, right? so I’m here to try my best and see what happens! if all else fails, at least I can say I tried and hopefully, made some lifelong friends along the way. I won’t go down without a fight, but I won’t allow anything or anyone but me to define me. you know?”

the interviewer seems happy enough, moving on to what he claims is the last question.

“you chose kt as your top company, but you didn’t list any of their artists as your favourite musicians. why did you choose kt?”

she beams. an easy question to finish on, too! she’s come full circle as she grins just as brightly, thankfully forgoing the wave. “I think I’d be a good fit for kt! I definitely enjoy their artists’ music, but I think kt overall has a typical image for its idols that matches well with me. kt artists are always vibrant and likeable as if you’re watching clips of your friends rather than celebrities. not to mention talented, too. I might only be the first two, that’s up to you to decide, but that’s the kind of image I’d like to have as an idol — someone who is really approachable and a 'happy virus’, but also professional and skilled.” plus, isn’t it kind of embarrassing to want to get into the companies your favourite artists are at just because of that? “I listed trc ent as my second company, though, because I think they’d help shape me to be really unique as a performer even if I think I’d be a bit of a black sheep amongst all that coolness.” she giggles one last time, each of her ‘ha’s coming out clearer than the last.

“and we’re done with the interview.” he indicates, her ears perking up as she realises she’ll be moving on to the next portion of the audition process. ( not that she can remember what it is, but regardless. )

“great! thank you!” curiously, she tilts her head and asks, “so, what’s next on the agenda?”

#rkmga5 #rkmga5audition3 #* solo!#* mga5!#( wc; 1435 )

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rather-impertinent · 7 years ago

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The Girl Next Door: Chapter 1

A/N: Hello friends! Here is my newest Carolight AU, as promised. This is just an introduction, I pinky promise it gets better, I’ve kind of wrote this AU backwards tbh hahaha! It will also feature lots of other familar characters and pairings down the line, so stay tuned! I hope you like it xo

It had been fifteen long hours since Doctor Dwight Enys had seen the exterior of his flat building. He welcomed the sight of the somewhat overly-aggressive modern building with the familiar fondness of home. He began the usual dissection of his large collection of keys as he searched for the one that unlocks the outside door to apartment Block C. He really needed to colour code these damn keys. Honestly, one would think he were a janitor or a soccer mom with too many hobbies as opposed to a single surgeon, who ironically held no particular talents where tidiness and cleanliness were concerned, nor did he have any children to speak of.

Once the damn door had finally been unlocked, he groaned as he opened it into the warm building, thinking of the three flights of stairs he would have to now climb to get to his bed. But that would spur him on: the thought of his bed. His lovely, cosy double bed; his dearest friend; his one true companion in this life. Dwight had also just this morning remembered to wash his bedsheets, and so luxurious, fresh comfort awaited him just a mere sixty steps away. Rejuvenated by his thoughts of rest, Dwight made for the stairway. He climbed the first one, smiling, the thought of peace and quiet appealing to exhausted mind when-

Thump, thump, thump.

He stopped short on the fourth step and sighed. So, the Hunters have fallen out again, he thought. He really did not have time for this. It was after ten in the evening and he had stitched so many wounds back together that his fingers physically ached. If either one of the sweet, yet clearly drug fuelled, middle aged couple tried to drag him into whatever ridiculous argument they were having, he would just have to jump headfirst out of the nearest window and die. He took the next few steps two at a time, holding his breath as he got to the second landing, anticipating either Joan or Robert Hunter standing in the small, carpeted space, shouting profanities and very nearly kicking their door in. He was amazed to find it empty until he realised, to his horror, that the banging was coming from above him: his landing. He took the next few steps three at a time and was met by the silhouette of a woman he had never seen before.

She had not noticed his presence and continued to bang incessantly and shout for someone named Horace. Normally, Dwight was not one to intervene in the lives of his neighbours, except to help with the odd shopping bag or carrying a pram down the stairs, but the young woman seemed so genuinely distressed that he felt it would bother his conscience if he just silently slipped into his own flat.

He tapped her shoulder gently and she started, almost comically so. “Um, hi, are you okay?”

The woman turned to face Dwight and, despite the long black trails of mascara down her face, she was very beautiful. Ridiculously so. She sniffed fiercely, “No, I – I went to go to the shop a while ago and I realised I had left my keys inside,” Dwight closed his eyes briefly in sympathy: the doors locked automatically when closed – a usually useful modern feature of the building, “it’s been a long day,” she tried to explain, “but the thing is, my darling Horace is now stuck inside!” She began to cry softly again.

Dwight stared at her, trying to wrack his brains as to how to help the poor woman. “Ok. It’s alright.” Even he winced at his pitiful attempt to comfort her. Jesus, you twat it’s clearly not alright. He knew that they would probably have to call the fire station or the police soon if they couldn’t figure out a way in, which would no doubt be mortifying for the young mother standing in front of him. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” He hoped she wouldn’t take this to mean he was copping out of assisting her, he just felt that if he had accidentally left his child in his flat, he would appreciate some familiar company.

The woman shook her head slowly and tried the door handle again, as if it would magically unlock itself.

He chewed his lip as he watched her fruitless attempts to move the stubborn door. Think, Enys, think. You’re a fucking surgeon. Use your brain. He made a slight eureka sound as he fully took in her form. He pointed at her hair bun and snapped his fingers, an idea forming in his head. “Your hair!” She looked at him with a quizzical expression and smoothed her hair slightly – worried it was a mess. Dwight chuckled mutely, “No, I mean, do you have any hairpins?”

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Yes. Why?” She continued to stare blankly at him, not fully understanding his meaning.

“I think I can help you out, can you give me two of them?”

She nodded quickly at the handsome stranger and pulled all the pins out of her blonde hair, which then tumbled down her back like a golden waterfall. She offered him the small cluster of pins and he chose two from the pile, quickly biting off the small circular ends. The blonde nymph was about to protest at the destruction of her property before he straightened the black pins and began to pick at the lock. She simply gawped at him, wondering what the fuck he was doing and if she had somehow moved in next to James Bond. She didn’t see how it could even be possible for James Bond to unlock a door with only two small hair grips.

After a minute, he sighed in frustration and squinted his gaze at the light above them in landing, as if scolding it for not being bright enough.

The young woman quickly fished out her phone from the pocket of her dark jeans and wordlessly shined the torch feature at the lock, so he could see better. He offered her a small smile in thanks before trying again – this time with a new pin. She eyed him with keen interest. “You don’t seem like the type of guy who would know how to pick a lock,” she commented, her blue eyes curious. How could a guy who looks like he volunteers at an old folks’ home for fun know how to break into someone’s house?

The corners of his lips tilted upwards as he continued to pry at metal slit. “A good friend of mine had a dodgy phase while at uni and he taught me how – only for emergencies, like this, of course.”

“Oh.” Is all she can say.

Dwight curses and encourages the pins as he pushes anticlockwise on them with all his might.

Click.

“Yes!” He exhaled, and before the breath had fully left his body, the woman had shoved past him and bolted into the flat. Dwight stood in the doorway and decided to take a couple of steps inside to ensure the woman was alright. She stood with her back to him, staring out of the window at the city lights in the distance, soothing a bundle of blankets. Dwight smiled and was just about to leave as she turned around, her bright blue eyes wide with appreciation and relief. Dwight’s breath caught in his throat and he felt a strange desire to laugh.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”

He stared at her, dumbstruck, wondering if he was being Punk’d or something. Did they even still make that tv show? He blinked at the sight before him several times before he found his voice, “Horace... is... your dog?” She was still sniffing slightly, but looked at him as though he were the dumbest person in the world. “Yes, of course,” she told him, as though it were a detail she had already mentioned, and even if she hadn’t, that it should have been completely obvious.

They continued their awkward, confused stare off until the young woman looked at the beige pug in unmistakable alarm. “Oh, God. He’s breathing weird. Something’s wrong!” Fresh tears began to well in her eyes again.

Dwight had a good mind to leave, he had worked a fourteen-hour shift today and would repeat the torture in about ten hours’ time. Why was he wasting his time on some blonde ditz, who – judging by the lavishly decorated flat – could very well afford to pay a private vet for his or her services? Still, the expression on her face was one of such genuine distress and desperation, he felt like he would be failing in his duty as a doctor, as well as human being, to leave her by herself. “Let me see him,” he instructed in his best professional voice, stretching out his arms.

Her brows creased above her cloudy eyes and she held the dog even tighter to her chest. “What?”

His famed patience was growing thin. “I’m a doctor,” he explained, “and an aunt of mine used to have a pug, it had a lot of breathing problems, too. I might be able to help.”

The young woman took a seat on the sofa, with the pug firmly in her lap, and tapped the space next to her, encouraging Dwight to sit down. He did so, and then gently took the pug from her arms and placed it on his own lap. Despite its laboured breathing, it managed a decent growl in Dwight’s direction, which caused the woman beside him to chuckle. She watched with concern as Dwight poked and prodded the small creature.

He met her worried gaze and inhaled slowly. “His pulse is steady, and he doesn’t have a fever. But he’s had a fit, which are common in pugs,” he adds hastily as the woman sitting opposite him looks fit to burst into tears again.

She stroked the animal soothingly, obviously very fond of it. “Is there anything I can do?” Her tone was somewhat timid yet assuredly determined.

Dwight bit the inside of his cheek in hesitation before replying, anticipating a verbal or literal thrashing, “Yes. He is – uh – he’s too fat,” he stated plainly, and almost laughs when the girl gasped and covered the pug’s ears from the harsh truth of the matter, “but it can be easily remedied: take him for frequent walks, feed him less rich food, that sort of thing.”

She narrowed her eyes at Dwight and he winced almost imperceivably, but she then began to nod slowly. “Well, I suppose you are a doctor,” she conceded, watching him very closely, “and so I should listen to you.” Dwight did not know why but for some reason he felt like she was mocking him.

“He’ll be much less prone to fits if he loses some weight, it helped my aunt’s pug.” Dwight nodded politely and rose to leave, seeking the warm comfort of his bed at last.

She watched him go, somewhat annoyed that her first conversation of the day was coming to an end. “Did it, really?” She smiled as the doctor stopped in his tracks. “What was your aunt’s pug called?”

He turned back around to face the woman and Horace. “It did,” he confirmed. He chuckled then, fond childhood memories coming back to him. “My aunt Jane’s pug was called Doug. Doug the pug, you could never guess she’s a poet, eh?”

The siren laughed at his joke and smiled widely, her musical laughter ringing in his ears. He found himself unable to resist joining in, too. Once their laughter had faded and only an almost tense atmosphere remained, he coughed awkwardly, stood up to leave and walked several paces towards the door before stopping in his tracks once again, a thought occurring to him. “Your shopping. Or lack, thereof. Do you need to borrow anything? Like some milk or something?”

She shook her head and continued to stroke the pug on her lap. “No, it’s OK, thank you. I think after that experience I’d sooner have a shot of alcohol than of a cup of tea!”

“Now, that, I can definitely understand.” With a final smile, he turned his back and reached for the door handle.

“Wait!” she demanded in a light tone. His hand paused on the rectangular metal grip and he glanced at her over his shoulder, an expectant expression on his face. She pursed her lips, smirking slightly. “What is your name?”

#carolight #poldark fanfic #girl next door au

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scrapyardboyfriends · 7 years ago

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1 I'm on last anons side about hoping for Seb to not be Roberts. Sure it doesnt make real sense, but when has anything in this god forsaken sl? And honestly at this point I don't care. I just want him gone. Erased. And he isnt really if there's still a chance he might return/Robert knows he has a son out there, that he might bring up from time to time. (see Jai) Also I feel that if the worst outcome happens and he stays and is Roberts, then it will just drag Robron down. Babies are "cute" for

2 like 3 episodes and then what? It will be work, get home, and baby time. So many sl will be unable to be done becuase it's no can't do that. Have to get home to the baby. No can't do that. It's dangerous/risky and we have a baby to think of now. No can't go out. Baby needs 2484 feedings and 74365 nappy changes. And a baby isnt old enough to spend time on his own or be babysat by someone else. I know Moses had Emma but he still showed up a lot. Or the sl will just be about Seb which is just no.

Again, we don’t know what will happen and I hardly want Seb to stay. I’m just trying to talk myself through things. I totally get you just want it erased and why and yes, so many things in this storyline have been nonsensical so why not this? Just because I don’t see it happening, doesn’t mean I’ll stop you from holding on to that as long as possible.

As far as the threat of him returning goes, I highly doubt they’d do it soon once they let him go and no one is saying they ever will bring him back. In my original post, I was mostly siting that as an enticing story option for them if they went with option number two. But if he did come back it would probably be years later and the situation could have completely changed by then. Either Aaron and Robert are solid and they can actually take on that challenge with drama yes, but they’d get through it and end up together without a year long break up this time. Jimmy and Nicola have dealt with all of Jimmy’s random extra children and they’ve ended up fine.

With the Jai reference. Yeah he mentioned Archie all the time the first time she went off with him but when is he ever mentioned now? Jai’s just running around feeling conflicted over Eliza and trying to adopt a dog. So he gets mentioned at a few key times, who cares?

And if he does stay, I don’t think that means they can’t have good storylines. Just because Moses shows up from time to time, doesn’t stop Charity or Ross or Emma from having crazy storylines. When does Amba ever stop Priya or David from having storylines. Hell, she’s rarely even mentioned. We hadn’t seen Bob’s twins for years until this storyline. We might have to watch them get over some initial hurdles with Seb but he’s not going to be around ALL the time. (especially if he’s still being played by an empty pram half the time)

I know everyone’s not as ‘whatever’ about it as I am, but I just don’t think it’ll be that big of an issue in terms of these worries.

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olehistorian · 5 years ago

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The text of the article (I hope you don’t mind my adding on to your post @thelovelycarsons , but I have a subscription):

Imelda

My husband, Jim [Carter, an actor], and I were together for 10 years without ever wanting to have a family — we had cats and holidays. Then, at 36, I suddenly found myself looking at prams, which was all very weird. It was my body clock saying, “Hello!” And it was incredibly powerful.

We were creatures of habit by then, so it was good for us to have to make way for Bessie. She was great from the beginning. Very kind and patient, even at a few days old.

Growing up, she was everything I could never be. She was tall and could swim and dive like an Olympian by the age of six. At sports days, she’d be in it to win. I entered the mums’ race one year and came last, laughing, because losing doesn’t matter to me. I turned round and realised Bessie was crying because it really mattered to her. Then suddenly, the child disappears and this gorgeous, striking woman arrives. I find it absolutely thrilling to have produced someone so physically unlike me.

Jim and I made a pact long before we had Bessie that we wouldn’t be away from each other for longer than two weeks. That was doubly enforced after she was born and we’ve stuck to it, though I have been away a lot in my head because I’ve done so much theatre.

During the entire run of Downton, when Jim [who played the butler, Mr Carson] was also running our local cricket club in north London, I was appearing in Sweeney Todd, Gypsy and Virginia Woolf — singing, shouting shows where you have to protect your voice, so you don’t use the phone much and no one comes for coffee. It was a seven-year-period when we were both working flat out. You’re like an athlete with those parts, the adrenaline feeds you, but also in the end does for you. Having said that, I don’t feel stress and I hate catastrophising. Bess is similar. If I moan to her about something she’ll say what my mum used to say, “Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.” She’s got positivity in spades, Bess.

Humour is a given in our family. Jim’s funny, I’m funny, my mum was a good craic. Jim and I laugh every single day. I’ve always thought if you can make people laugh, you can make them listen. But when people ask, “Was it fun filming?” I think, “No, it’s my job. Fun is what happens at home.”

Mother and daughter, aged three. “Mum and I were more like siblings,” says Bessie

I was never the kind of mother who shouted “Come on!” in the morning. Bess and I would start the day with a boogie to Bette Midler, then she’d cycle off to school with Jim on the tandem. Raising her was glorious, actually, I enjoyed every minute, though I sometimes think we worked too hard at trying to create the perfect childhood. When I look back it feels like one long summer day in the garden with her mates. The thing she doesn’t have as an only child is a set of emotional tools for dealing with criticism. Neither of us has built up any emotional armour, so we’re both easily hurt.

I feel very fortunate in that I’ve never had that empty-nest feeling because she’s in the business. Whereas I was catapulted into the theatre, she’s been born into it, and she’s grown up with our mates who are like her uncles and aunts. Honestly, there’s nothing nicer than the acting tribe, and knowing she’s moved out to be with this extended family feels very good indeed. Jim and I would really like to be at the stage door every night going “Hi!” But you can’t do that. You have to keep your distance. The only unfulfilled ambition I have left is for us to one day work together.

Bessie

Mum and I were more like siblings than mother and daughter when I was growing up. This is partly to do with height. She’s very, very small — 5ft. And she’s getting smaller. Dad is 6ft 2in and I’m 5ft 10in, so I was always going to tower over her. When I was about 13, I came home from school very upset about something and had a little cry in the hall. She rushed up to hug me, but we realised I was the one comforting her. She said, “Wait, wait!”, and climbed up three stairs until she was high enough to envelop me. Now, whenever I’m heartbroken, she’s waiting on the stairs.

Mum is so brave and strong and fierce — she doesn’t sugar-coat anything and she’ll speak up if something isn’t right or fair, but she also has this soft, emotional charisma. She can read a situation quickly and tries hard to understand everyone’s point of view. It’s what makes her a great actor, but also a great mum. She’s everything you see in her work — she’s funny, quick, sharp, but also heartbreakingly vulnerable. Even as a small child I remember thinking how everything she did seemed truthful.

She’s one of the funniest people I know and she doesn’t care what anyone thinks. She’s really instilled that lack of self-consciousness in me. Her mum, Granny Bridie, was a ferociously strong Irish lady who played the fiddle and drank and smoked and loved a laugh. She came to England in the 1950s and ran her own hairdressing business. Mum was her only child and she was fiercely ambitious for her. You can see in Mum that same strength, resilience and determination to work to the bone. I’ve never seen her do anything by halves.

It’s quite hard to talk about Mum without talking about Dad too, because we are such a unit. Mum calls me Bebo, Dad calls me Trousers. No idea why. Their love is palpable. I adored being an only child. I think I asked about a sibling once or twice without knowing what that entailed, but it was never on the cards. They were the two people who were everything to me and I couldn’t imagine sharing my world with anyone else.

Their great skill as parents was to go from jobbing actors to household names without anything at all changing at home. One of them was at the school gate throughout my entire childhood. And every time I moved into a new flat when I was a drama student, they were there with the cleaning stuff and the dog in the back of the car.

Mum and Dad have a pillow upstairs that says “Happiness is being married to your best friend”. They’ve set the bar for romance high because they’ve been married 35 years and they’re still incredibly happy and bonded. They make each other laugh every day and that’s something I look for in relationships. I’ve never seen either of them really stressed — we get nervous, but we’re not worriers. All three of us are big list makers and we need to be constantly busy.

They’re both in this blessed position where they can choose how much work they want to do and when they want to do it. I find it really heartwarming watching Mum and Dad spending time together, happily pottering in the garden, rearranging plants and perfecting the house. There’s this extraordinary sense of pure contentment.

Bessie Carter is in Beecham House on ITV, June 23 and 24 at 9pm. Imelda Staunton is in A Confession, also on ITV, later this year

STRANGE HABITS

Imelda on Bessie Whenever I phone, she always answers in an Australian accent

Bessie on Imelda Mum explains to me what’s in the fridge, even though I am standing looking at it. “There’s some hummus and some...” “Yes, Mum, I can see that for myself, thank you very much”

#imelda staunton #bessie carter #jim carter

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