#im lamenting . whining you could even say

[cherryys]

i do not like the fact that yuuta was able to just return back to his body without any consequences at all, still as OP as ever. His character now seems even more flat than before. I never particularly cared for Yuuta, but during CH. 261/263 I started to like him. I thought those chapters and that narrative decision drew his character out and really made him shine. for it to amount to practically nothing removes any stakes or emotional payoff for such a decision. Nothing really changes about him now, unless you count the scar on his head. that sucked, I really hoped there would be something, but now Yuuta's character kind of annoys me with how little payoff there is, along with the fact he doesn't really lose anything the entire series, and is still as powerful as ever. there should've been a balance struck with his CT along with Rika, but I guess gege wasn't willing to compromise.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

I never really made a request before so that's my first time wish u like it

So I was thinking about some fluff drunk y/n acting all stupid and flirty to bakugo who doesn't like drinking around her because he knows that they both won't have someone to send them home if they got drunk

[Secretly caring]

*Whispering* he also gets a bit touchy if she let's him

*friends to lovers thing*

Wish my explanation was good enough and can't wait for the next chapter of FBRC <3

can't say no to you . . (not that i want to)

katsuki takes you home after a night out

a/n: OUUU this is such a cute idea ! i’m so happy, this is my first request as well so we both have a milestone LMAOOO ! i tried to honour your request as best i could ! <3 (OU and AAAAA im glad you like FBRC ! i hope you’ll keep reading !)

bakugou katsuki considers himself a mature, mostly rational person.

despite what others, media outlets and even his own damn friends might say, katsuki thinks he’s really not that bad.

sure, he’s flipped off a camera man, cursed out another one…and another one—but who doesn’t have a bad day once in a while ?

he’s changed since he was a kid, he doesn’t get set off as easy anymore most days. he’s learned to be more patient, a little more levelheaded. that’s at least something his shitty friends will tell you.

he’s changed from when he was a kid, he’s grown now. he’s a man.

but right now katsuki feels like smashing your head in with a brick.

"kah-su-kiiiiiiiii... m'sleeppyy" you whine, leaning against his shoulder.

katsuki doesn't regret a lot, but he sure as hell regrets accepting to go out for drinks with you. again. you had said something about 'celebrating getting a day off after a while'.

"never should've accepted goin' out with yer ass." he laments grumpily. despite the fact he says this every single time he goes out to drink with you, he never seems to learn his lesson. he never seems to want to learn his lesson.

truth is, katsuki has grown a lot since his UA days but one thing he hasn't outgrown is his giant rampant crush on you. it's embarrassing how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger, how easily you can get him to do whatever you want as long as you just asked him to.

he complains and grumbles about it but he'll never, ever, say no to you.

which is how he always, always, ends up in this predicament.

katsuki snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you sniffle.

"y-ya don't like.." you sniffle again " ya don't like hangin' out wif me ?"

fuck.

immediatly it's like a switch had been flipped. he moves his arm so he can wrap it around you and have you lean against his chest. you always got emotional when you were a little too drunk, that usually meant it was time to go.

"no—no, s'not that. i—" he sucks in a breath, cheeks heating up despite the fact he knows there's barely any chance you'll remember this. usually he'd remind you of your embarrassing drunk moments as revenge for making him take you home and taking care of your ass because you were too drunk to, but he'll refrain from mentioning this part.

"i do like hangin' out with you, dummy. quit talkin' stupid." he shushes you softly, unconsciously rubbing your arm comfortingly.

"b-but you said, you regretted goin' out wit me" you pout. fuck, you're cute. katsuki has to fight off the urge to lean down and kiss it away.

"i say a lot of stuff i don't always mean, sweets. you know that." he replies " 'f i didn't wanna hang out with ya, i wouldn't."

you hum pensively, leaning against his shoulder as you think. you smell like something sweet, he can't quite track down what it is, but it's making him dizzy. you've always had the ability to make him lose focus. you're so close and you smell so good and katsuki feels like he's drunk.

"mmyeah...guess that's true" you hiccup. you raise your hand up to trace his jaw line with your finger and he refuses to look at you but he can hear the cheeky little smile in your voice "you like hanging out with me, right ? that's why you always say yes when i ask !

he scoffs "i only say yes 'cuz i know you'd just end up goin' out anyway, you'd get yourself in trouble." he's stiff as a fucking board, he feels like if he moves a little too much he'll say something he shouldn't.

"no i wouldn't" you argue, then you reach your whole hand up to squeeze his cheeks "but even if i did, i know you'd come to save me, mr. dynamight" you giggle

he's so sick of you. katsuki's been in plenty of situations where he was this close to death, but he's certain you're gonna be the death of him.

"time for bed" he grumbles. he lifts you by your shoulders slightly until you can properly stand on your feet "m'getting you home, yer too drunk to be up right now" he asserts, chuckling when you pout at him when he flicks your forehead

"you're not the boss o' me ! 'm completely—oops" you trip forward but katsuki catches you with ease, he's always there to.

you look up at him innocently and he looks down at you with one eyebrow raised "you were sayin' ?" he sassed.

you roll your eyes at him and push off him slightly to stand more comfortably, you stick your tongue out at him. " i said—i'm fine..but if you wanna take me home that badly, i guess i'll allow it" you shrug. katsuki squints then shakes his head, smiling to himself. you catch him and giggle, he can't cover up his chuckle fast enough. you must look stupid to the other people in the bar just sitting there giggling at each other, he realizes. then he remembers he could honestly not give enough of a shit about what these other drunk losers thought, the only drunk loser he cared about was right here in his arms.

right where you belonged.

you're out like a light by the time katsuki's brought you back to your apartment, but he doesn't mind, he'd expected it anyway. he carries you like a sack of potatoes to your floor. he's glad he'd managed to grab your keys before you fell asleep, having to wrestle the keys from you and risk you getting cranky at him doesn't sound all that nice right now.

he helps you take off your shoes and he's extremely grateful you're just lucid enough to change by yourself. he helps you clean up and brush your teeth, then carries you to bed even though he knows damn well you could walk just fine. not before getting you to down a glass of water.

you're annoying when you're drunk and sleepy, you're whiny and everything is too much work for you. katsuki grumbles right along with you, calling you a pain in the ass, then promptly taking it back when he sees you tearing up again. he grumbles and complains but he knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it for him. not only because he's sure whoever it is wouldn't even be able to do this half as well as he does, but also because despite his better judgement, despite the fact you piss him off to no bounds, you're his to take care of. and he'd be damned if he let anyone else take care of what's his.

so you whine, and he complains, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

you insist on wanting him to stay with you and he knows he probably shouldn't. he likes you too much to just casually stay here with you, he knows he won't be able to sleep and he's just going to keep staring at your lashes fluttering as you dream. but you pout at him and plead him so sweetly, he really can't say no to you.

he likes you too much.

he steals one of your hoodies and a pair of sweatpants (he technically isn't stealing—since they're both his to begin with) and climbs into bed with you. you immediatly latch onto him, nuzzling into his shoulder before thanking him.

"for what ?" he mutters sleepily, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

"for.." you interrupt yourself with a yawn, he chuckles "for always takin' care of me..you're the best."

if you were more sober, he'd simply answer with a cocky "tell me something i don't know." but you're not and katsuki's already too far gone, so he squeezes your waist in appreciation then responds " i'm always gonna take care of you."

he's suprised by how soft and sappy he sounds but you suprise him even more when you lean up slightly to press a feather light kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper a sweet little "love you."

he lays there for a good long while without response, you don't mind because you chose that exact moment to fall asleep. he lays there and he's sure he won't be able to fall asleep now. fuck you for knocking out and leaving him like this, he thinks. he's trying not to give himself false hope, maybe you meant it platonically. he keeps trying and he keeps thinking all night but he's still impossibly giddy.

he was contemplating not telling you anything about last night, but he can't help himself. he's nervous—god, he's so fucking nervous when you wake up while he's getting comfy in your kitchen like it was his, making breakfast. you look groggy and sleepy and hungover, but to him, you still look adorable.

when you're awake enough, munching away at the breakfast he's made, he tells you about last night and his heart slams against his chest when he mentions what you had told him.

though, when he sees how you choke on a piece of your toast, and how flustered you look, like a deer in headlights, his heart beats hard against his ribcage for a completely different reason.

the next time you go out for drinks, it's to celebrate the start of your relationship.

AAA first request done ! hope you liked this anon <3 if you guys have any request pleassseee lemme know !

[saatorubby]

BABY PULL ME CLOSER - G. SATORU

SYNOPSIS : your boyfriend is in dire need for your attention. unfortunately for him, it’s the finals week.

a/n : im loving writing for jjk and this man makes me so ill about him.

GENRE : fluff

PARINGS : student!gojo satoru x student!reader

WARNINGS : mention of childhood pet dying once. reader is referred to as girlfriend.

The finals week was here.

Usually, there is nothing wrong with that, except for being overworked, stressed, and dehydrated, but for gojo satoru, that wasn't the worst.

No, far from worst. For him, the worst thing was being unable to be with his cute and pretty girlfriend.

"Without whom I'll die." he once declared.

There was he now, dreamily staring at you as all of your attention was stolen by those goddamn books. Satoru swears he's gonna burn them all one day.

He wonders whether those dried trees are more important to you than your loving boyfriend, him, who has been begging for your attention for days.

He huffs as his begging stare seems to have no effect in melting your cold, cold heart. Though he has to admit, the concentrated pout and the furrow of your brows do look cute on you as you slave away on the revision and assignments and last-minute projects.

He's tried everything that he could do without your presence. Played games with suguru, and caught up with his friends (which is just suguru and a very pretty and chill lady, ieiri, despite him being popular). Now, he can't go out and get food without his lovely girlfriend, could he? no, that'd be blasphemy through and through.

"Babyyy." he whined for the umpteenth time, laying on your bed as he mindlessly scrolled through social media to find topics to talk shit about with you later.

You sighed and turned to him, exasperated with his antics.

"Can we go and get food?" he asked as his bottom lip jutted in a pout you couldn't say no to. He knows you can't say no to that face, it's too cute.

"Satoru," you stared, frowning. "We've talked about this," you told him, conflicted. You wanted to take up on his offer, you do. You want to take a break too. But you just have so much work. You aren't sure you'd be able to complete it if you stopped even for a minute.

“My love, my darling, my sugarplum honey bun, can we please go and get McDonald’s?” He pleaded.

Gojo Satoru was simply irresistible.

From the first time you’ve met him, you’ve found out that he’s scarily good at getting people to do what he wants.

He looks so cute like that. His pretty eyes watery, his soft, pink lips formed into a pout, his face flushed.

He’s always gotten his way with a face like that.

So you’ve taken it upon yourself to be more resilient and tell him no. He needs to learn.

Also it’s funny how he always looks aghast after you’ve denied him something, like you’ve told him his childhood pet died or something.

“No, toru, we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. You don’t dare try suggest that your boyfriend help with your work, not after…last time where both of you got distracted and ended up making out instead of getting it done.

“I have to get this paper in by tomorrow.” You said firmly, turning back to your work, holding back a snicker as he gasped dramatically.

Here it comes.

“So you don’t love me anymore, huh? Is that it?” He said, narrowing his eyes at your form, hunched over your desk. He takes it back, you’re not cute anymore.

“Is your love for me really that weak, baby?” He lamented. “That’d you’d break under the pressure this easily?” He cried.

“Do you want me to kick you out?” You take it back, he’s not cute.

“Then you won’t be able to see me for real.” You muttered, but it was enough for him to hear.

That made him shut up real quick.

[achoonihaachu]

God Must Hate Me; Ch. 2

A/N: Hello beautiful people! Thank you so much for the love you showed the first part of the series! II’ve made a few changes to the plot and it’s looking like this is definitely going to be longer than 3 chapters... sooo... get ready for the massive angst dump about to happen in future chapters! I hope you enjoy chapter two and I would love to get requests or feedback for the future work I plan on doing for the OM! fandom <33 Again, thank you so much to @its-dari for letting me take inspiration from her post of the "replaced mc au"!

pairings: Simeon x mc, Solomon x mc, Diavolo x mc, Demon Brothers x mc (platonic... for now), Luke x mc (PLATONIC!), MC x Fem!OC

warnings: cursing, possibly triggering! insinuated eating disorder (just a tad bit, okayy? :( im sorryy!), verbal abuse, gaslighting (if you squint,, maybe), possible future spoilers for chapter 16, not proofread well </33

reminder: you are loved, you are deserving of love, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise! i’m so proud of you, even if you think you’ve done nothing to warrant that, i’m proud of you okay >:(( ur amazing and beautiful and *chefs kisses* ily <333

“Would you like to move to Purgatory Hall indefinitely?” 

“I apologize for my next choice of words but Diavolo, what the fuck?!”

“Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t know how to reply. You were sure you knew your friends pretty well by now. You knew how Barbatos brewed his super special tea. You knew of how Luke slept with a pillow he brought from the Celestial Realm because he got homesick. You knew how Simeon would switch out pots when Solomon cooked dinner because he didn’t want to risk everyone getting food poisoning after. You could go on and on about everyone else but to put it simply, you knew every little secret all your friends had.

Yet, it still astonishes you how these beings manage to say something so potentially life changing with the same level of nonchalance as if they had just mentioned the weather to you.

Everyone stared at you with expectant, hopeful eyes but you simply sighed, “I’ll think it over tonight.” You state. You could almost feel Luke vibrating with excitement. He knew that this was his big opportunity to finally convince you to live with them in Purgatory Hall now.

Diavolo smiled at you with understanding, Barbatos standing poised behind him with an unreadable expression, “Alright well, you can text me your decision first thing in the morning,”

Luke refused to let you leave Purgatory Hall after that. You were basically guilt tripped into spending the night with the other exchange students sans Yuki. You had to face the girl’s wrath through a call, though it felt more like jealousy mixed than anger. She whined for a good 10 minutes about having made plans to stay up all night with you to binge watch a cutesy anime she found but she settled with doing that after your Ristorante Six dinner. She said goodbye to you and to the others in Purgatory Hall and then she hung up. Diavolo and Barbatos left shortly after, mentioning that they had business to deal with and after steeling through your own set of puppy dog eyes, they bid you farewell and disappeared into the night.

You didn’t see the glares on their faces when they turned. You didn’t see how they didn’t walk back to the Demon Lord’s Castle. They head over to RAD, late at night, to settle a few of the many files and paperwork that dealt with everything happening to you.

You remained blissfully unaware of the growing tension plaguing the House of Lamentation.

With Luke happily snoring away with his head leaning against your chest, you turn to look at the other side of the couch to see Solomon asleep with his arm propped up on the arm rest. Turning to look back down to Luke, you saw Simeon still awake with his attention turned to you, the television droning on in the background, making for perfect ambience, “(MC), I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries when I say this but…  I believe it’s for the best if you move into Purgatory Hall with us.” He says, voice soft as if he were afraid that he'd scare you away if he raised his voice any louder. 

You sat up slightly, careful to not wake the sleeping angel against you, “Simeon, I-” You started, only to be cut off by Simeon’s raised hand, “Let me explain why.” He says, expression hopeful as he practically asks you for permission with his eyes.

You bite your lip, silent for a few beats before you nod. Simeon nods back, “Solomon and I have been worried for you for months now. You seemed so stressed when you came to school from the House of Lamentation. You always had something occupying your thoughts, and you’ve started to practically deteriorate in front of our eyes. We weren’t joking when we said we love you, (MC). We can’t stand seeing you like this.” He paused for a moment.

“The brothers, Lucifer especially, have always been like this. They’re… They’re good at being selfish and they toss out the old for the new. I’m not saying that you’re old news, honestly we, including Lord Diavolo and Barbatos, would pick you over Yuki any day, but the demon brothers… Well, they’re not known as the Seven Avatars of Sin for nothing. What I'm trying to say is that we’ll treat you right here in Purgatory Hall. You’d be loved, treasured the way you should be. You can stop pretending to be content living with beings that bring you so much pain. I’d give anything to see you be the same happy (MC) you used to be.”

You felt your eyes prickle with salty tears, “Simeon… I’m sorry for worrying you. I- I just thought that… that… I’m sorry.” you whisper and in that moment, Simeon knew that you were broken. He’s lived many a centuries, he’s witnessed great floods, mass genocide by other humans. He’s witnessed the births and deaths of so many humans from his place in the Celestial Realm. He… He saw great sorrow when the brothers first fell after the Great Celestial War. He felt that sorrow and pain himself when he simply watched on the sidelines. 

He knows a broken being when he sees one, and he saw one in that moment.

He gently moves Luke, whose arms are wrapped tightly around his white satin pillow, to lie down on the sofa as he kneels in front of you. You hiccup quietly, eyes still brimming with tears. You stop yourself from blinking. You refuse to let these tears fall. You refuse to let yourself cry over demons who couldn’t appreciate all the sacrifices you’ve made for them.

He stares up at you, concerned, as he opens his arms to you. You hesitate before lowering yourself to the floor and reluctantly bury your face into the fabric of his black shirt. He smells vaguely of citrus and soap, you know the generic kind he bought because his skin would break out in rashes when he tried the different scents offered in the Devildom stores. You sniffle lightly, eyes still blurry as a few traitorous tears slipped from their place.

You cursed those salty tears for sullying Simeon’s pristine clothes.

Simeon slowly rubbed circles on your back, whispering words of comfort as he held you in his arms. Your body wracked with every silent sob, your breathing quickly becoming shallow as your nose grew runny. Now, you definitely forbade yourself from getting your snot on Simeon’s clothes. You cry quietly against his chest, your sobs slowly weakening and slowing after what seemed like hours but was more like a few minutes.

“I’m truly sorry for worrying you, Simeon. I- I just… I love them, y’know? And I love Yuki. God, I can’t even hate Yuki because she’s so lovely but what have I ever done to be punished like this? To be unloved like this after all I’ve given for those fools?!” You cry out weakly. 

You find solace in the angel in front of you.

And for once after a long while, you’re glad to have been chosen for this program because… You got to meet Simeon.

You woke up, head pounding, in a room definitely not your own. The walls were painted a beautiful shade of pastel blue. Furniture, like the tall wardrobe and the simple study table situated by french windows, were all painted in pure white.  Even the detailing of the windows was an ivory white. A tiny yellow plant that was reminiscent of an angel’s halo was placed on the  table, glowing slightly with a radiant yellow. It somehow gave you comfort. You weren’t sure what time it was, your eyes were bleary but you were sure that it was morning. You yawned, stretching slightly when the door opened to reveal Simeon and Luke standing in the doorway with a tray of delicious looking food. You let out a tiny happy sound, feeling extremely grateful for the hospitality. 

Since Yuki came, the brothers often forgot to leave food for you, feigning ignorance to your needs for hers. They’d say that the food was only enough for 8 people, that there wasn’t enough in the fridge to make more. They brushed off your early complaints and Asmodus even told you once that it was for the best, as you looked like you could lose a few pounds. 

You passed out in the school’s hallway that week from hunger.

Since you didn’t eat at home, you went to school hungry or you ate at a small coffee shop on your way to school. Yuki would apologize profusely for being the reason for their change of behavior. You wave her off with a tired smile.

They’ve always exercised their power and authority on you.

Luke bounded over to the side of the bed, his happiness seemed to know no limits as he talked with the speed of a bullet train, “Good morning, (MC)! I-I’m sorry about falling asleep during our movie marathon! I made you these celestial sugar cookies! Michael sent me a care package full of vanilla beans that the younger fledgling angels tended to in the Celestial Castle!” He climbed onto the bed, elbows clumsily pushing him up to sit by you as he unscrewed the clear glass jar. The scent of freshly baked cookies made your toes curl.

It smelt heavenly, the pun is intended.

Before you could grab a handful of the young angel’s divine treats, you heard Simeon clear his throat, “Luke, I told you to give that to them after they eat breakfast.” He spoke sternly, but he didn’t scare you. You were so used to being scared into obeying a command, to listen to every word spoken by what was deemed to be authority as if their words were written in stone. 

It’s how your life has been the past few months in the House of Lamentation.

No, with Simeon, you felt your heart fill with a comforting warmth. The way he chided and guided Luke like a shepherd would with a playful lamb, funnily enough. You believed that his austerity shouldn’t even be classified as such, for he spoke with kindness and love. Simeon’s eyes met yours and his gaze softened immediately, “I hope the bed was to your liking. The other guest rooms were stuffy and a tad dusty so I brought you to my room. I apologize for doing so without your consent.” He looked away sheepishly, his grip on the silver tray tightening ever so slightly. You shot up, almost knocking into Luke as you shook your head,” No! It’s alright! I-I felt comfortable… At home, even.” You say shyly. You missed the light pink dusting Simeon’s cheeks.

“T-That’s a relief. Luke and I brought enough food for all three of us. He insisted on letting you take it easy today.” Simeon mentions as he places the tray on the bedside table.

You pull on the silk sheets, feeling slightly self conscious as the fact that Simeon carried you to bed finally sunk in. Before you could wallow in your embarrassment, Luke waved a cookie in front of you with a toothy grin stretched across his face.

You choose to move on, grabbing the cookie with a giggle as you all dug into the treats and the breakfast.

“Hey, Simeon…” You hear the ravenette hum in response, mouth full with the bite he took of the sandwiches they made, “Where’s Solomon?”

The almighty sorcerer was seated across from Diavolo, quill in hand as he eyed the documents that lay in a file strewn on a small pile on the table in front of him. “I had Barbatos look into the future and document everything he had seen. These papers hold all of that information. I entrust that you will not interfere nor will you try to reveal anything to the rest involved in this situation.” Diavolo states, arms folded on the table as he stares at the tall stack of papers beside him.

There were probably a few hundred files, all recounting different futures and different destinies that you could choose. “I see. Well, why is there a stack specifically given to me?” 

“Solomon… I don’t think you’d like to hear it come from me-” Diavolo was cut off by Solomon, hand raised to silence the demon prince.

“Lord Diavolo, with all due respect, why did you summon me and why is there a stack of files here in front of me?” His voice was laced with venom, he feels it’s less of his anger and more of his fear of what was about to be revealed to him.

“Those are the futures where (MC) is killed.”

Solomon has lived for a long time now and there were days when he cursed his immortality. It made him afraid to love. He’s loved before but in time, he had to bury that love 6 feet underground. He couldn’t tell you how many generations he’s had to bury into freshly dug soil. He couldn’t stand the way the people he’s loved be remembered only by the stupid piece of stone that laid erect on top of where they slept for eternity. No matter how many times he’s buried a lover or a friend, the heartache that comes with losing them to time or to an illness never numbs. So, after a few centuries, he’s learnt to stop loving. He’s learnt to make deals with similarly immortal beings, with demons from the underworld. He’d keep his heart under lock and key because he couldn’t deal with another heartbreak. Then you came.

You, this weak little human without immortality, managed to find the key he’s tossed away a long time ago, and you’ve managed to free his heart. He’s grown quite fond of you, the way you can just exist and make a room be so much more colorful, so much more lively. He’s a sorcerer with centuries of knowledge and experience and he knows for a fact that you’re the only being in existence to have such a strong pull, having the strongest demons in Hell, a magnificent sorcerer, and angels in Heaven wrapped around your finger. 

Hearing the words that had just come from Diavolo’s lips made the color drain from Solomon’s face. He felt breathless, like the air in his lungs had been knocked out by an invisible force. He slowly shook his head, placing the quill back into the inkwell. “No, there must be some mistake…” He mutters to himself. He was normally a confident man that took everything in stride but in that moment, his shaky hands were untrustworthy. He was forced to steel himself, moving to grab the file at the very top, “Lord Diavolo, if I can presume correctly, your pile is of the futures where (MC) will be safe with us, right?” 

Diavolo’s expression was grim, he hesitated to respond. Solomon’s breath hitched in his throat, hands unable to pry the file open. His eyes find Diavolo’s, wide with panic and fright, “Please tell me that these aren’t likely to happen…” He whispers.

In the House of Lamentation, Yuki’s door remained sealed shut, as if it were uninhabited. The brothers all took turns walking by to knock, trying to convince her to open the door. Lucifer made the most visits, knocking every hour to somehow convince her to come out without apologizing. Yuki managed to paste a piece of paper on her door whilst there weren’t any demons roaming the halls.

The paper read, “When you disrespect (MC), you’re disrespecting ME!” With an angry cartoon version of Yuki drawn in red ink on the bottom of the paper.

The brothers were all gathered in the common room, with the exception of Leviathan who had been missing since last night and Lucifer who had just left to bother Yuki again. Leviathan texted them about completing a new game so he wasn’t aware of Yuki’s angry outburst, he wasn’t there after all. Mammon sat by the fireplace, knee bouncing in the growing panic of his favorite human purposefully ignoring him, “I don’t even want an apology! I just need’a take ‘er out to town! I’ve gotta catch this big blackjack tournament with my lucky charm.” He huffed. Satan snorted from a few spots away from his older brother, hands gripping tightly on the book he’s binge reading. “Obviously like the scum you are, you only think of how her anger’s going to affect you negatively. She’s mad at us for one thing or another. Can’t you use that tiny brain of yours to think of how we can get her to forgive us?” He seethes, a wry smile on his lips as he tries his best to keep his wrath under control.

Before the brothers could have the chance to break out into another squabble, Lucifer stomps in, face contorted in frustration as he crumples up a piece of paper to throw into the warm fire that grew by the sofas. “Wait, Lucifer what’s that?” Satan queries, tossing his book on the couch as he approaches his brother. Lucifer’s eyes blazed with unfiltered anger, “Humans are childish.” He spits through gritted teeth, handing Satan the paper in his hands.

It was the paper Yuki stuck on the door.

Mammon scampers over to take a look, only to scoff, “(MC) would never be this childish.” He mutters to himself, unaware of what his words really meant. The other boys walk over to peek at what Yuki had written. Asmodeus shrugged, “Still, it’s kinda cute? I mean, Yuki’s always adorable so it’s alright this once, I suppose.”

What the brothers didn’t realize was how Yuki planned on keeping this up.

Lucifer sinks onto the main couch in the common room, hands furiously rubbing his face as he feels his head throb. He had no time for this. He’s got to report to Diavolo in a few minutes, he’s got a monstrous pile of paperwork to complete, a childish human was the least of his worries.

Just as he moved to get ready to head to the Demon Lord’s Castle, he got a text from Diavolo’s number.

“Good day, Lucifer. This is Barbatos contacting you through the Young Master’s phone to inform you that there are some urgent matters the Prince has to tend to, and unfortunately he will have to cancel your monthly report meeting this afternoon. I will be at the House of Lamentation in 10 minutes to pick up all the paperwork you have completed. That is all.”

Lucifer was completely floored. He was speechless. He… Was he unneeded that day? His eyes scan the text about a dozen times. Diavolo was attending to matters without him. Barbatos was going to pick up the work he finished? He grew nervous in his seat. Did he do something to deem him unworthy of being trusted with the matters being dealt with? Without realizing, he thought back to how you would help him calm down from an awfully stressful day. The way you soothed him without hurting his pride… Yuki. Yuki can do that for him, right?

He shot up from his seat, eyes crazed as he rushed out of the room, leaving his brothers in shock. In his mind, he was acting logically enough; He was upset, ergo he needed comfort from his favorite human.They’d never disobey him, seeing him in distraught would be enough for her to forgive him for now, right? (MC) would always forgive them even after the worst of fights because they knew that they were needed.

It was a solid enough plan in his distraught mind.

His fist was heavy on Yuki’s door, his hair was disheveled from rushing up the stairs so quickly. “What do you want?” Her voice was muffled by the heavy ancient door but even then, he could hear the anger laced in her voice. He winced ever so slightly before he cleared his throat, “Yuki? I apologize but I hope you wouldn’t mind if I came into your room. I’m quite under the weather, and I would appreciate your company and a few rods of comfort. Please.” He said, voice wavering when he said the word please, sour bile threatening to come from his throat as his pride got in the way. He was met with silence before he heard the lock click. The door creaked open ever so slightly, Yuki had peeked ever so slightly at him, “That’s rich coming from you, Morningstar.” She scoffed, glare frigid as if she was staring into his black soul. His patience was running thin quickly, “Pardon me?” He asked. His hearing must be going, that’s it. All the screaming he endured for eons from his idiotic brothers must have caught up to him and he all of the sudden developed tinnitus or possibly an ear infection. Yuki wouldn’t have said that to him, not his favorite human exchange student.

Yuki pulled the door open some more, only to block Lucifer from stepping in. She folded her arms and glared up at him, “You heard what I said. That’s rich, coming from you. When (MC) begged you to stop your torment, you feigned ignorance and you hurt them so deeply. You didn’t comfort them on the days they felt under the weather. I was the one to dry their tears. ” She said unflinchingly. 

Somewhere in the house, Satan stilled. He felt great waves of wrath roll over his entire being, almost drowning him in the powerful emotion he reigned over. He gripped the hardbound book in his hands, jaw clenched so hard that he would’ve probably broken his jaw if he were a human. He thought back to what (MC) taught him. Breathing exercises. Count to 10, 1, 2, 3, 4... don’t let your wrath get the better of you, Satan. You’re so much more than the wrath you were born from. You don’t scare me, tan-tan! 

Oh, MC...

Yuki rolled her eyes at the fallen seraphim, scoffing as she turned her back on him, “What makes you think I’d choose to comfort an asshole like you?” With that, she shut her door in his face with a slam. 

Yuki sat back down on her bed to scroll on her DDD, feeling smug as she heard a vase break in the hallway.

You were washing dishes in Purgatory Hall after a good quarrel with Simeon about him letting you clean at all during your stay with them. Your eyes were glazed over as you thought back to Yuki. She was such a good friend. She defended you when she could, always choosing you and including you every time something happened in the House of Lamentation. You didn’t notice the figure standing in the doorway, “Good morning, (MC). School’s about to start soon, and I got a few messages that the brothers and Yuki had no plans on going. Were you planning on ditching as well?” You jump cartoonishly, almost dropping the pretty dishware before you glare at the figure clad in a blood red suit, “Diavolo!” 

Solomon steps into the kitchen from behind the tall demon prince,”Leave those dishes there at once, (MC).” He says in faux anger, his lips twitching slightly as he stops himself from smiling. You stick your tongue out at him as you turn back to the last few dishes in the sink, “I’m almost done, alright? Wait in the common room, I’ll be with you all in a few minutes.” You say sweetly, unaware of the two men's staring.

You emerge from the kitchen, hands still damp with a few stray bubbles on your forearm. You meekly wipe your hands on your uniform jacket as you are met with a crowded common room. Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, and Solomon sat on one of the sofas facing the elongated one you and the other exchange students were lounging on last night. Barbatos had a sizable stack of papers beside him, pristine and unwrinkled and you awed at the butler. How on Earth can someone carry around paperwork without wrinkling it? Well, that’s the overly competent demon butler for you. You had half a mind to ask where it came from so early in the morning but you held back your question.The aforementioned sofa was occupied by Luke and Simeon, who were stifling their laughter at your expression. “Is this an intervention?” You joked as you took a seat beside Luke.

Diavolo snickered, “Sort of.” He teased back as he looked over at Solomon, who had a tight-lipped smile on his face. 

“Well, (MC). Have you decided?” Barbatos asked. You bit your lip as you stared at your feet. You sighed, closing your eyes as you raised your head back up.

“Yes. I’ve decided to accept your offer to move me into Purgatory Hall.” 

You had a blast at RAD, for the first time in a long time. You had messaged Yuki and told her that you’d just meet her at Ristorante Six, you joked about being mad at her for leaving you to go to a school crawling with demons who would kill to eat your soul. Though true, you knew you were safe in the protection of the Demon Prince, his butler, and the most powerful exchange students in all of the Devildom. 

The seconds you spent with your new house mates, basically, turned into hours and before you knew it, it was time for your dinner with Yuki.

In the House of Lamentation, Asmodeus picked at his fingernails nervously as he stood outside Yuki’s door. He had been trying to build up enough courage to just knock and get this over with but he heard the commotion after Lucifer bolted from the common room. If the ever powerful, ever prideful Lucifer Morningstar lost his cool to a measly human, what could he do as the fifth-born?

He strained to listen in on Yuki’s movements, he could make out that she was humming a tune from a human song you adored. He couldn’t recall the title but he knew it was a love song.

“Hmm… hmm.. Hmm..”

“It was enchanting to meet you..”

He was about to knock when he felt a force push him against the door. “Ah!” He yelped as he rubbed at his forehead. Turning to put a curse on whoever just gave him a bruise, he faltered when he saw Belphegor.

“Who is it now?” Yuki’s voice was sharp and unforgiving, so far from the sweet Yuki they were used to. Before Asmodeus could reply, Belphegor put a curse on the door; no one can get in or get out unless he says so. After months of tutoring from you and Solomon, Yuki was able to start feeling strong magic, and she felt this wave of a powerful curse. “W-what?” She ran over to the door, turning the handle but was unable to open it.

“What the fuck are you doing, Asmo?!” She snarled, violently turning the handle. Asmodeus squeaked, “I-It wasn’t me, darling!” He called out, moving to pry the door open. The poor girl would starve if Belphegor chose to keep the door locked! He glared daggers at his little brother, “Open the damn door, Belphie.” He spat out, hands unresting as he kept trying to get the knob to budge. Belphegor lazily sighed, “No. I heard her yell at Beel earlier.” He scoffed.

Yuki was starting to worry. Her date with you was in 30 minutes.

You were walking to Ristorante Six with Solomon. You managed to convince him to hold your hand and you were now swinging your arms back and forth with every step you took. Solomon said that he would only do it because he was a good housemate, saying that he wouldn’t have agreed if you didn’t move into Purgatory Hall (he had half a mind to say that he could’ve used this to blackmail a certain Avatar of Pride into making a pact with him, though he never mentioned this part due to everything that has been happening in the past few months). 

You didn’t mention how his face was as red as a stop sign to protect his dignity. 

You were feeling so much better after so long and you were going to savor every moment. You were out of the House of Lamentation. You were in a home where people cared about you. You were loved again, just like you prayed for.

And did it feel good.

Just as you and Solomon turned the corner, you got a message from Yuki, “Hey babes, the bros asked me to finish some paperwork. I gotta call for a raincheck on our date, okay? Don’t come back to HoL rn, Belphie’s being a little brat. ILY, take care of yourself at Purgatory Hall!” You pout as you read the text out loud for Solomon, who grimaced as you finished reading.

Did Yuki know something?

He fished his phone out from under his big cloak, “Hold on, (MC). I have to make a quick phone call. I’ll get Simeon and Luke to come here and the four of us can have dinner at Ristorante Six instead. It’ll be my treat, think of it as a celebration for your move to Purgatory Hall.” He says, ruffling your hair before nudging you into the direction of the restaurant.

As you walked away, he chanted a protection spell on you; he managed to rub a bit of his magic man dust on your pretty little head.

He quickly typed a message to Luke, telling him to bring Simeon to meet you at Ristorante Six. After getting a response from the tiny angel, he dialed Diavolo’s number, eyebrows furrowed,

“Good evening, Lord Diavolo. Is this the future you and Barbatos prepared to make happen?”

---------

tags for those who asked! : @edible-sushi , @knmsapplepi , @kxyren , @its-dari , @izukulus , @farysblog , @atinyidea-bon , @affecteddream , @yunbedo , @raven-darkessence , @crystal-freak24 , @gallantys , @xfatefulmistyx , @crystalmystery​ , @another-one-again , @moni-sama

[threepointseven]

Home(Dinner Part 2)

Im shortening the exchange students name to S/N AKA student name

Sorry i forgot to answer the person who actually requested this @kurooandkarmaswife thank you sm for requesting! I hope you enjoy 😩

Also lets pretend you cant have more than 1 pact with a human cause yeah. If you havent read Dinner yet go read it since you’ll really only understand this if u read the first part

Fandom: Obey me!

Pairing: not really with anyone but has subtle undertones of solomon & Simeon x reader

Length: sort of long

Genre: Angst with comfort

Gn! Reader and exchange student!

Part three!

Dinner last night, was, well...pretty terrible. I ended up waking up at 2 am to the brothers STILL not home. Apparently even Diavolo had taken a liking to the new exchange student.

A day goes by and finally i get to meet the new exchange student.

Whoah

Is all i can think. I walk into the living room unnoticed as everyone is talking to the new exchange student, i wouldnt blame them.

They look incredible.

I felt a hint of jealousy wash over me. Seeing Mammon, Asmo’s and Beel’s joyful laughs as they talk to them. Their voice was ever so gentle, it’s what i imagine spring to sound like.

I tried forgetting about my distasteful thoughts of jealousy and walked over to them.

“Goodmorning!”

I called out to try and grab their attention

“Oh, MC! I didnt see you there;;”

Asmo said to me as he was taking selfies with the new exchange student

“This is the new exchange student”

Beel smiled

“Hi! My name is MC”

I happily introduced myself

“My name is S/N”

They brought their hand out and i shook it in return. Their eyes were ever so sweet, i felt the sadness come over me as i wore a soft smile.

Something tells me this wont end well.

Weeks go by as i barely get to see the brothers anymore. They’re always around S/N. I find myself longing the brothers touch. The random emergency texts i get from mammon, calls from Asmo asking me if i wanted to go to a club, Belphie always dragging me to his room to take a nap, Beel’s adorable goodnight texts, Lucifer’s complaints about work, Satan’s library dates, And levi’s rants about a certain anime he just watched.. i missed it all.

I guess i missed the warmth and the constant attention i got from them. The attention thats now being directed at S/N.

The new feeling of emptiness leads me to the Purgatory hall, a place i’ve been to quite often after S/N had won over the brothers.

I enter the room praying that i dont see S/N hogging Luke, Solomon, and Simeon’s attention....

What?

Did i just think that?

Am i that jealous?

Have i gotten so used to being in the spotlight that suddenly i become like this when not in the center?

Its an unpleasant feeling and i try to snap myself out of it as i see Simeon, Luke, and Solomon all happily seated on the couch drinking tea and eating pastries Luke made.

“MC! Hey!!”

Luke happily greets me as well as Solomon and Simeon. Im pulled to the couch as im seated next to Luke. I take a bite of the pastry and embrace the comfort of the sugary sweets.

The conversation goes on for a long time as hours go by. Soon enough the entire tray of pastries and tea are long gone.

As the clock hits 8 PM i realize ive been at the Purgatory hall for too long now. Excusing myself i go back to the house of Lamentation to be once again greeted by smiling faces and S/N laying out plates filled with food for the brothers.

The brothers quarrels, Satan’s face of annoyance, Asmo’s whining... The smell of warm food on the dinner table being handed out....

As i hide from the view of the brothers and S/N i look back to when it would to be me that made everyone dinner and calmed them down.

My chair.

My chair had been occupied by S/N,

What?

Did they expect me to sit on the floor for dinner or something?

As i slowly walked to my room i heard the deep voice of Lucifer

“Oh MC,,, sorry S/N is sitting on your spot, we thought you were gonna go to the purgatory hall for dinner tonight. We do apologize”

As i feel my throat closing up i smile and say in a bubbly tone

“Oh it’s fine! I was actually gonna go out with my friends for dinner anyways! I was just getting something from my room, i’ll be out in a sec!”

Lucifer gave me a warm smile and continued conversing with S/N

As i went to my room i started to realize the situation here. I’ve been replaced. I mean who wouldn’t replace me when the actual definition of an angel was right in front of them with their welcoming arms open.

As soon as i got to my room salty tears trailed down my cheeks,

Jealousy?

Sadness?

Anger?

Whatever the emotion was i wasn’t having it. Unlocking my DDD to be greeted by the wallpaper of me and the brothers all dressed up for a ball we went to together once. i tried to hold back my few tears as i called Solomon, a dear friend of mine.

“Hey solomon!!”

“Oh, yes MC? Is there anything you need?”

“I know i just left the purgatory hall but could I possibly stay there for the night?”

“Oh, of course! I dont exactly know why but Luke’s already whining about how you stayed for too little.”

“I’ll be right over”

I hung up the phone, my tears stopping after i heard that comforting voice of his.

That night i stayed at the purgatory hall, happily sleeping next to Luke, lulling him to sleep.

The purgatory hall became my escape. Solomon always made me laugh, Simeon always made sure i felt welcome there and Luke was practically my adopted son after how long i could stay with him.

As i went about the kitchen helping Luke make a pastry i showed him from the human world a strange feeling washed over me. The feeling of something being erased from my my soul, something was fading away. That something felt like it was piercing my soul.

I look around my body to see what it is. As i look around i see it.

My pact marks are starting to fade

I panic as i excuse myself and go back to the house of lamentation.

As i silently enter the room i hear the faint sound of the brothers, they’re discussing something.

“Cmon Satan you’ve gotta be quick! What if they find out?!”

“Removing a pact isnt that easy Mammon.”

As i listen more i realize what it is.

They’re trying to break my pact with me.

And for what exactly?

Because they want one with someone else.

That someone being S/N

It hurt. Who wouldn’t be hurt? tears flowed from my eyes in record time as i tiredly walk outside.

Devildom was a place the brothers always told me to beware of, but right now i couldnt care less.

While i walked around the town with puffy eyes and the stinging feeling of my pact marks being removed, i hear a certain group of people call my name, i look back to see Luke, Solomon and Simeon’s smiles quickly turn into frowns as they see my tears

“What’s wrong MC?!”

Luke worriedly asks

Unable to hold it in i tell Them.

“The brothers are trying to break my pact with them, they want one with S/N apparently. Im afraid i’ve been replaced by that saint..”

Solomon and Simeon’s face turn into faces of empathy while Luke’s turned quite sour

As Simeon came closer to me and pulled me close into a hugged he mumbles out a comforting phrase

“Whatever happens MC, you’ll always be welcome at the purgatory hall.”

The sentence made my stomach overflow with butterflies. I happily hug back, quickly accepting the purgatory hall as my new and improved home.

[im-not-a-simp-i-swear]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a headcanon on the Brothers where it is raining in the Devildom and the MC (gender neutral if you feel more comfortable about it) starts singing "Singing in the Rain"- you know, that song from the hit movie musical? MC even starts doing the choreography as the boys are watching. I am already imagining MC getting mixed reactions.

MC SINGING IN THE RAIN

You were just walking back to the house of lamentation after a long day at RAD with you're favorite boi. Even though today felt eternal you were happy to be walking back home with your favoeite demon, and he is also happy to be walking home with you.

You two are just talking about stuff when suddenly... it starts to rain... "oh no MC here let me-" before you even let them finish you grab the umbrella from their hand and then you started to walk away from them.

💙LUCIFER

- "MC where are you going? Open the umbrella, MC!"

- will watch upset as he gets wet and as you dance and sing in the rain.

- yeah sure its cute seeing you recreate this scene from the musical but he really isnt so concentrated on that but more on trying to get you to pass him the umbrella

- "MC please its cold-"

- "🎶SINGING IN THE RAIN🎶"

- "MC!"

- by the time you finish the choreography you two are a wet mess, and boy oh boy is he pissed about it

- "...thanks MC that was nice now lets hope neither of us get sick"

- now lets hope he doesnt hand you like a piece of clothing that just came out of the washing machine from you not opening the umbrella when he asked you to do so

💛MAMMON

- "oi! MC! What do you think you are doing!?"

- will proceed to watch in both amazement and annoyance as you bust a move in the rain

- "MC this is nice and all but cant i at least have the umbrella?"

- "MC CANT YOU SEE THE GREAT MAMMON IS GETTING WET OVER HERE PASS ME THE DAM-"

- slowly starts to get more and more annoyed by the fact that he is getting wet.

- will start running towards you to try to get the umbrella from your hands

- will end up being dragged by you to follow your steps

- even though it seems that he ends up getting in the mood like you he will quickly snap out of the trance and grab the umbrella to open it once you two finish dancing

- "great job MC now we both are wet"

- " yeah but you seemed to enjoy it"

- " yea- well- that isnt THE POINT-"

- now he nervous

🧡LEVIATHAN

- great. Today. When he had came to RAD for a meeting. It just HAD to start raining huh?

- well at least he came prepared-

- " MC why did you take my umbrel- MC please its getting heavy!"

- watches confused as you starting singing

- the more attention he pays to what you are saying however the more he thinks its either from a musical or for someone

- he wont complain anymore and will just stand under a treee and under a store or something as you finish your moment

- dont be surprised if he starts to get embarresed or even jealous who knows by the people watching you

- " wow MC that was so nice, can we get home now?"

- you'll hand him the umbrella and you two will walk home as you hum the tune

💚SATAN

- not only will he recognize what scene it is that you are recreating but he will join you

-" im singing in the rain~"

- "just singing in the rain~"

- "what are glorious feeling~"

- " im happy again~"

- he wont even notice how wet he is getting from the rain while he is dancing with you

- if he notices anyone starring he'll just give them an ugly look and continue dancing with you

- its only when it starts to get really cold and that he notices that he is soaked that he'll try to stop you from continuing

- " that was fun, but do you know what will be even more fun MC?"

- " what?"

- "lucifer's reaction when he sees how wet we'll get the house once we enter" he answers while giving a mischevious smile

- will happily get dry with you (whether its at the fireplace or by hand or whatever) after getting scolded by lucifer for getting wet

💖ASMODEUS

- "MC where are you going with that umbrella? I need it or else i'll get soaked and my hair-"

- is probably the grumpiest after lucifer forgetting wet

- dont misinterpretate him, he loves seeing you dancing and singing in the rain but he isnt really fond of getting wet

- "MC you arent even using the umbrella..."

- will stand under a tree or under the roof of a store too if you dont hand him the umbrella and pout at you for it

- " this isnt very attractive of you MC, im getting wet and its cold"

- he is the one that just might get sick from this from all of the 7 brothers

- once you are done he will grab the umbrella from your hands and open it while telling you that you could get sick

- oh the horror that will arrive for him....

❤BEELZEBUB

- will stare confused when you take the umbrella from him and start recreating that scene

- "MC?" He'll try to get your attention but will end up staying silent as you start singing

- will literally just watch where he is standing, he doesnt really mind getting wet and is quite interested in seeing you singing and dancing

- he doesnt even realize he too is getting wet

- the only reason he grabbed the umbrella actually was so that you didnt get wet, however he now velieves you enjoy the rain

- will clap at you once you are done

- he is however more worried that you'll get sick than both of you getting wet.

- will happily help you get dry once back at the HoL

- "are you sure you dont want anything to warm up MC?" He'll offer you hot cocoa or something warm to drink if you end up too cold

💜BELHEGOR

- so basically one of the few days where he gathers the strenght to stay awake for most of the day is when probably the nicest of raining arrives for probably one of the nicest naps ever?

- now not only is he mad that he needs to make it home FIRST to sleep but now he is getting wet becuaseyou took the umbrella

- "mc... im tireeeeeeed..." he'll whine

- dont be surprised if you find him sleeping under the roof of some random building or even inside some shop sleeping because he wasnt going to wait and watch

- if he does end up watching however then he will just stand under somewhere where he wont get wet and clap for you once youre done withthe act

- either way he is still going to end up asleep by the end of today

- "nice moves MC, but im tired now so can we please get home quickly"

[blackstar95]

The Brothers reaction when MC slaps their ass

Lucifer

As usual, Lucifer listened to some classical music and poured himself a glass of wine to relax a bit.

Once he was done, he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip, savoring the taste.

"Mhm," he hummed to the sound of the melody and blissfully closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet moment he was having.

Much to his dismay, you entered his office without making yourself noticable.

Now dont get me wrong, he loves enjoys your company.

But not when your main goal is to tease him.

An thats exactly what you were doing.

You grinned mischievously as you slowly crept up to him, his back turned to you.

Since he was in his own state of mind, he didn't noticed anything.

That was until you reached your hand out.

In that milisecond, Lucifer's senses were tingling and his eyes shot open, turning around as fast as lightning.

But it was too late.

He only watched as your right hand colided with his left buttcheek, giving it a good squeeze afterwards.

Lucifer jumped and just stared at you in shock, processing what just happend.

And you just stood there with an empty expression, your eyes starring at your palm.

"Wow, your butt is actuallly softer than I thought".

Lucifer furrowed his brows in anger and shook his head.

"MC".

"Yeah?" You asked, looking up at him innocently.

Lucifer had that closed eyed smile with an dark aura surrounding him.

"Now, what made you think this was an good idea, MC?".

You shrugged and slowly walked backwards, shivering nervously "I dont know.. I was just curious?"

"Curious?" He met up with your steps and tilted his head to the side, his smile never leaving

He became dangerously close, making you more nervous than you already are.

You felt your back hitting the wall and your eyes widened.

Oh lord...

Lucifer slammed his palm beside your head, caging you.

You flinched and looked to the ground, feeling suddenly so tiny under him.

Lucifer cupped your cheek and made you look back up at him, a sadistic smile on his lips.

"Such inappropriate behavior should be punished, MC"

I leave the rest up to your imagination.

Mammon

Mammon was walking beside you as always, being practically attached to your hip (nothing new).

You guys were at R.A.D on your way to the cafeteria, since it was break time.

The greedy demon beside you rambled about that new scheme to make money, and you once again had to talk him out of it.

"Ya! It aint a dumb idea!" He protested.

"It is Mammon. Just think about Lucifers reaction and the consequences," you shook your head "Want to hang from the ceiling that bad?".

Mammon only scuffed, turning his head to the side.

You glanced over to him and noticed a visible pout on his lips, making him look like a child.

"Hey, Mammon".

"Hm?" He looked over at you "What's up?".

You raised your hand and reached over for his bottom, smiling sweetly at him.

"Cheer up".

He was about to question you, but before he could even start his sentence, you cutted him off with a real loud smack on his ass.

Mammons stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes widened in shock "W-what?".

Once realisation kicked in, his face flushed in an intsant.

"O-oi, human! Whats the big deal slappin' my butt like that?!". He yelled at you, looking like a fricking tomato.

You couldnt help but let out a few chuckles, highly amused by his reaction.

"Ya! It aint funny!"

Thanks to his loud voice, the whole hallway now knew what just had happened.

Leviathan

Leviathan walked down the stairs to the dining room.

He was really excited because he finally got his hands on the new Ruri-chan merchandise that came out.

"Woaah! I cant believe I got that limited edition figurine!, its SO rare and the new outfit- its just soo angelic-"

Levi being caught in his own ramblings didnt noticed that you were walking beside him.

"And that new hairstyle! I cant believe Ruri-chan could get even more cuter than she already is-"

"Say Levi, to who'm are you talking to?"

"WAh!", Levi jumped slightly at the sound of your voice and almost tripped over his own foot.

"Wha- MC!? How long have you been here!?"

You smiled at him and grabbed his shoulder for support, preventing him from falling down the stairs.

"There there, calm down. I didnt heard much".

Levi let out an sigh of relief and turned to you.

"Yeah right, I mean who would want to listen to an yucky otaku like me?".

You facepalmed in your mind and sighed, he really needs more confidence.

Leviathan kept walking and pitying himself, mumbling random stuff.

He has such a negative mindset.

You walked up behind him not thinking much.

But then you stared at his head and then his back,

Eventually your eyes landed on his bottom.

You smirked to yourself as you just ran past him, giving his butt a hard and loud smack.

Levi yelped in surprise and stood still, overwhelmed with what just had happened.

His hand grabbed his right buttcheek and rubbed it, being too shocked to react.

You turned around and waved at him. "Damn Levi, you really got an nice butt there! Im soo jealous!"

You then disapperaed in the dining room.

Levis brain needed a whole minute to process what just had happened.

And then he became a stuttering mess.

"M-M-MC! W-what was that now?!, h-hey wait!" He hid his flushed face behind the back of his hand as he stumbled after you.

Ngl he was kinda happy you touched him.

Satan

Satan was on kitchen duty, cooking his curry.

He invited you to join and help, so you guys could spend some time together.

And theres no way you would ignore that chance.

So here you were beside him, giving him the ingredients he asks for and making some small talk.

"Did you know that Beel almost ate my hair in his sleep?" You sighed "Im lucky im not bald".

Satan glimpsed at you and raised his eyebrow, shaking his head, "His hunger really doesnt know its limits".

He looked up, "Well speaking of sleep, I had an unpleasant dream last night."

You handed him the spoon and nodded "What was it about?"

Satan sighed, "Beel ate too much and grew to be a giant. He then ate the House of Lamentation, leaving the rest of us homeless".

You laughed, "Why do I have a feeling that could actually happen?"

Satan frowned "He already eats plates, its only a matter of time until he starts eating the walls".

You chuckled, intending to jokingly slap his arm.

But since you werent focused on what you were doing, you didnt notice how your slap landed right on his butt.

Satan dropped the spoon he was holding and looked at you with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?"

You turned to him with an confused expression "Did I do something wrong?"

Satan cocked an eyebrow and leaned his head to the side "You just slapped my butt".

Now its your turn to look at him with wide eyes. "I did what now?".

Satan didnt knew if you were joking or not, and it was kinda ticking him off.

"My butt. You slapped it".

"No I only slapped your arm- ohh wait..." you chuckled.

"What is so funny?" He asked you with furrowed brows.

"Sorry Satan, I wasnt focusing on what I was doing and accidently slapped your butt instead of your arm," You shrugged "My bad".

Satan nodded and turned back to what he was doing "Next time be more careful, or I will return the gesture".

You smirked and leaned over to him "I wouldnt mind that".

He will remember that.

Asmodeus

Asmo was having a mid-life crisis.

He was on one of his diets, because his waist gained 1 millicentimeter.

You assured him that a little more weight always looks good and healthy but he wont listen.

So here you were infront of him, eating one of his favorite Cupcakes.

"MC darling, why do you have to torture me like that?"

He whined "Its not faair!"

You just shrugged "I have another cupcake left for you, but since you're on your little 'diet' I will give it to Beel."

He sighed and dropped his head on the table "Does my pain bring you pleasure?".

You frowned "I-"

Asmo gasps and sat back up straight. "Dont tell me your into that stuff?, Wow!"

He smiled and wiggled in his chair.

You sighed and shook you head "Asmodeus, stop".

He pouted "You're no fun..".

After some time you finally finished the cupcake and Asmodeus had reached his limit.

He watched as you stood up and walk towards to the kitchen.

"Wait, what are you doing?" He also stood up and followed you.

"I will bring the cupcake to Beel-"

"No, wait!" he grabbed your wrist and stared at you.

You looked back at him "What is it, Asmodeus?".

He glimpsed to the side "I dont want him to eat my cupcake.."

You clicked your tounge and pulled him towards you, making him stumble to the side

"What are you doi- AH!" He moaned yelped in surprise as you slapped his ass.

"Just eat that damn Cupcake. Its not like you will gain 10kg from it".

He blushed "Oooooh MC! That really made me excited! How harsh you pulled my wrist-"

You just let go of him and left the room.

"MC where are you going?, you cant just leave me here!"

Beelzebub

Beelzebub asked you to keep him company while working out.

And of course you said yes.

So now you sat there, on the bench with a towel in hand, enjoying the view infront of you.

Beelzebubs biceps flexed as he lifted weights, and his white tanktop was drenched in sweat, making it transparent.

His abs showed through the fabric and you blushed.

How can this man be so big and muscular?

You blinked when he stopped his workout and laid the weights back down.

He grabbed his bottle from the floor and drank from it, taking big gulps.

You decided to stand up and walked over to him.

"Hey, Beel"

Beel lowered the bottle from his mouth and smiled at you "Hey, MC!"

You smiled back, and held the towel in your hand out to him, "Here take this".

"Thanks" He nodded at you and grabbed it, wiping the sweat on his face away.

"So, how is the workout going so far?" You asked couriously.

"Im still warming up" he replied.

You blinked, Still at warming up, huh?.. impressive.

"But im starting to feel hungry..." Beel pouted.

You laughed "You can do it Beelzebub, I believe in you".

He blushed and smiled at you "Thanks, MC!"

So cute.

You nodded and patted his shoulder "Sure".

Beel proceeded to start his warm up again, starting with some sit-ups.

But you had other plans.

"Beel wait!" You ran up to him.

He stopped what he was doing and looked over at you "What is it, MC?"

Before he could fully turn his body to you, he felt a stinging sensitation on his butt.

He looked at you startled, now realising you slapped it.

"Wow Beel, your buttcheeks are pretty hard.. are they made of iron or something?" You hold your hand up to your face.

Beel blushed slightly, not knowing what to do or say.

You just shrugged and turned around, marching towards the bench you were sitting on.

But suddenly, you felt a light clap on your own butt.

You gasped, "What-, Beel?!" You looked behind you and saw him standing there, smiling.

"Your butt feels really soft and nice, MC". he chuckled, "Is that a human thing to do?"

"Beel no-"

Belphegor

Belphegor was taking a nap in the attic, skipping the student council meeting.

And since you were coming late to the meeting due to some complications, Lucifer ordered you to search for Belphie and bring him there along with you.

And thats how you ended up infront of the attic, clearly annoyed.

"Belphegor," you spoke as you opened the door "I know you're in here".

The youngest brother laid on the bed, snoring and cuddling into his cow pillow.

You walked over to him and shook him "Hey Belphegor! Wake up!"

He stirred in his sleep and furrowed his brows.

Eventually he opened one eye and glimpsed at you. "What is it?"

"Lucifer wants me to bring you to the council meeting" you explained.

"Too bad, I wont go" he closed his eyes again. "Why dont you join me?"

"No," you shook your head, "Please, stand up".

He groaned "No, I dont want to go".

Thats it

You grabbed Belphegor by his arms, and turned him on his stomach.

His eyes shot open "Dah! W-what, hey-"

You raised your hand and slapped his ass, the sound of it echoing through the room.

Belphegor jumped and sat up straight, looking at you in disbelief.

"What was that for?!" He blushed

"You should stand up," you crossed your arm over your chest "I asked you nicely but you wont listen".

"Alright..," He closed his eyes "I will go"

You nodded "good"

But before you could turn around, Belphegor grabbed your wrist and laid you over his lap, his hand resting on your butt.

You blushed when you realised what he was doing,

You tried to escape, but his grip on you was too tight.

"Heheh," he chuckled "Time for payback".

"B-belphegor-" you were interrupted by his hand squeezing your left cheek slightly, making you shiver.

Belphegor raised his hand and striked an direct slap on your butt.

He expected you to squeak cutely, but instead a loud moan left your lips.

You quickly sat up and covered your mouth, an massive blush on your face.

Belphegor stared at you with wide eyes,

But after a few seconds he smirked.

"Didnt knew you're into that stuff," he teased you "Im not complaining though".

You just hid your face in his shoulder, too embarassed to look up "Dont tell anyone about this..".

Belphegor chuckled and patted your head "I wont, that would ruin the fun".

He will still tease you about it tho, but just when you guys are alone.

[ichorai]

cellmates ; five ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

themes ; fantasy, angst, slowburn, action, adventure, medieval, pirates, magic, elves, mermaids, royalty

words ; 8.9k

warnings / includes ; character death, blood and grime and injury and everything in between, reader being tied/chained up :(, vulgar cursing, crying, rowdy pirates, "keep the love interests away from each other" trope <3, ✨pure confusion✨, me torturing my characters once again yikes, ateez cameos !!, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; uhm. hi. first off, i apologize for taking so long with this series KWHJKSDFK and second, i am also so sorry for what you're about to read o.0 this one's a real angsty part folks :') i swear i swear it gets better don't be too upset :(( i love writing this series so much (it's prob my favorite original story) and im so excited to hear yalls thoughts :D

cellmates masterlist.

a map of this universe is included at the end of the chapter !!!

Cerulean beaches never quite looked like real beaches to you. The sand was as white as snow, the gentle lapping waters so bright they looked to be molten sapphires. It was all far too perfect to be naturally authentic. You were pleased to find that your boots left shallow imprints in the sand, disrupting the once pristine terrain.

Night was creeping upon you once again, and you were in desperate need for a good sleep. You were lucky that Yunho didn’t live very far off, also pleasantly surprised to find that you could even remember the way back (though admittedly, it took a considerable amount of backtracking).

The front of his little cottage was just as you remembered, albeit dark and somewhat dingy. None of the candles or oil lamps were lit and the curtains were drawn. The large expanse of his garden seemed somewhat unmaintained, weeds starting to sprout from between the wilting, once bright flowers.

You knocked against the door thrice, clasping your hands behind your back while you waited. How would Yunho react upon seeing you? What if he blamed you for losing Wooyoung? What if he didn’t believe you? What would you say then? Much like the first time you came to Yunho’s little cottage, tumultuous questions and irrational thoughts churned about in your mind.

It took a long while for you to realize that nobody had answered the door yet. You blinked, mystified, and raised a fist to rap on the wood again. You grew impatient rather quickly, knocks progressively becoming more frequent and hurried.

“Yunho?” You called out after about five minutes of waiting. By then, it was obvious that the man was either not home or avoiding you on purpose. And considering how friendly and sweet the pink-headed giant was the last you saw, you doubted it was the latter. “I’m coming in!”

The door opened in a fluid motion, knocking against the wall behind as you swung it open. You stepped inside tentatively, peering around with widened eyes. It was completely dark inside. So much so that it took you a few minutes for your eyes to properly adjust to the ill-lit hallway. Just as you had remembered, the small living room was to your left and quaint kitchen to your right, the winding staircase situated in the corner. The familiar scent of maple wood was still lingering in the air, although faint and almost imperceptible.

You shut the door behind you and toed off your boots, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your voice eerily echoed in the empty cottage.

And so you made your way up the staircase, peering into the bedrooms. A heavy feeling gripped at your chest when you glanced into Yunho’s bedroom. That was where you and Wooyoung kissed… you could still remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, his warm breath on the back of your neck. You wondered what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped him. How far would the two of you have gone?

Shaking all thoughts of the past away, you bounded back down the stairs. There was no sign of Yunho at all. Just where could he be? You tried your best comforting yourself; perhaps he had gone out for a walk. Surely he’d be back soon.

Much to your dismay and gradually rising concern, Yunho didn’t show up at all. Not when the sun started to rise again, not when you passed out in sheer exhaustion on a kitchen stool (you couldn’t bring it in yourself to go back up to the bedrooms), and not even when you stirred back into consciousness, the late morning sun glaring at you harshly through the slivers between the curtains.

Your bones cracked and popped as you stood up and arched your back, rolling your stiff neck from side to side. From the pirate ship, you had brought little else than a knapsack full of gold you found in one of the cellars, food that could last you a couple days, water skins, and two sheathed daggers. Everything else on the ship was practically worthless, or too heavy to carry.

With a heavy sigh, you splashed water onto your face using the kitchen tap and patted your sleep-ruffled hair down. The skin around your wrists were still raw and stung when you rinsed away the crusted blood. You wished San had given you that coconut extract lotion; you couldn’t seem to find it anywhere on the ship. Guilt-stricken, you turned off the water and slung the knapsack over your good shoulder.

If Yunho was gone, then where else could you go? It seemed wrong to stay in his home without his knowing.

Air. You just needed air to clear up your mind.

Stepping outside felt like a mistake. Under the bright sunlight, you felt your head throb dully in agitation. The garden looked even more lamentable now than last night, the flowers drooping so far that their browning petals grazed the dry soil beneath. The air felt thick and heavy, and you huffed out several breaths to relax your tense muscles, shutting your eyes in the process.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was so sudden and unexpected, you couldn’t help but shriek, flinching back against the cottage door. You were met with an old man standing just shy of Yunho’s unkempt garden, his gaze confused and somewhat judgemental.

“W-What?” You muttered once regaining your scattered thoughts.

“I said,” the older man shot you an exasperated look. “What are you doing, waiting by that house? Nobody lives there.”

It felt as if cold water was dripping down your spine, and you crossed your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. “But… that can’t be true… Yunho lives here. He’s a, uhm, a baker, I think. This is his house.”

The old man regarded you like someone would look at a madman. There was something in his tone that told you that he wasn’t taking you seriously. “I’m sorry to say this, but nobody’s lived there for years and years. I’ve never heard of a baker named Yunho in this area.”

“No… but I was just here a few days ago with him…” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in thought. What was going on? Where could he have gone? What could’ve happened to him?

In your peripheral vision, you saw the old man hobble away, but not without stopping to glance back at you with narrowed eyes every few steps.

And then you remembered with a sharp intake of breath. You and Wooyoung were thrown into jail to fade away into nothing but legends… and now nobody believes you really exist… Wooyoung was thought to be dead by everybody… could the same be happening to his innocent, pink-haired friend? A dark, tar-slicked hand reached out into the confines of your chest and curled its slimy fingers around your palpitating heart in a steely grip.

They took Yunho. The realization had you slapping a palm to your mouth, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It all made sense; the untended garden, the old man saying nobody’s lived here for years… it sickened you to think that the only reason you could remember him was because you weren’t in Cerulea when he ‘disappeared’.

“Oh, no. Oh, god, no!” You leaned against the door, overwhelmed. If they took Yunho, would they have Wooyoung, too? Did Wooyoung even come back to Cerulea? If he wasn’t here, then he’d be the only other person who remembered Yunho.

Just what the hell are you going to do now?

It felt wrong to stay in Yunho’s empty little cottage with your newfound realization. The pirate ship was the second best option, but even that was much too far for your trembling legs; you doubted you’d even make it to the beaches, much less get in a small boat to row back to the anchored ship. Besides, the memory of San jumping off the side was one that you weren’t very keen on reliving.

And so, that was how you found yourself in front of an inn, only two cobbled roads away. The heavy door whined as you gently nudged it open, shuffling inside. Your heart was thumping against your ribcage so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. For once, you were glad that your name had faded into legend. To them, you were probably just another nobody.

The inn held the thick aroma of cheap alcohol and spritzer perfume. You glanced around curiously, noting the few people poking away at their breakfast and chugging down their frothy ales.

What looked to be the owner of the establishment was standing behind a counter, looking bored. He caught your eyes, and despite your head telling you to turn around and walk back to the pirate ship, you found yourself shuffling forward.

“What can I do for you?” The innkeeper asked, eyeing your haggard appearance.

Feebly, you pulled out a handful of gold coins and dropped them onto the wood of the counter. “Can I just get a room for the night? Will this be enough?”

The man across from you stared at you incredulously, his gaze flickering from the gold to your wide eyes. “Where’d you get all this money from? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You blinked twice, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They’re my savings.”

He looked upon you dubiously, but accepted the coins nonetheless. “You can have breakfast if you’d like. It comes with the room.”

Shaking your head slightly, you replied, “thanks, but I just want to get settled in for now. I’ll come down for luncheon.”

“Suit yourself,” the innkeeper quipped, sliding over a rusty key with eight engraved into its dull metal. “Head upstairs, turn left.”

And so that’s where you went, the wooden stairs creaking under your weight. You slotted the key into the lock of a door that had a large metal eight clearly displayed, and heaved the door open. By now, it felt as if your muscles were on fire. Everything seemed to be aching.

The first thing your eyes laid upon was a small bed, a thin, lavender-hued fleece wool blanket draped over the lumpy mattress and a single measly pillow propped up at its head. It took everything within you not to dive into the warmth of the woolen layer, but you managed to bide your time, even if it was just a couple minutes.

You toed off your boots, the soles of your feet practically numb. The pack that hung on your shoulder was next to come off, sliding down your arm and onto the bedside table. There was an unlit candle by the windowsill, but still more than enough light streaming in, seeing how it was still quite early in the morning.

The air smelled of breakfast from downstairs; consisting of, from what you saw, honeyed oatcakes and fruit tarts and rations of fried eggs and sausage. Your stomach was still quite empty, but you didn’t have the heart to go back. You needed time to think, time to rest.

After you nursed a few sips of water from a bottle in your knapsack, you finally allowed yourself to sink onto the bed, sighing out in contentment.

Everything felt so quiet, so still. This all felt like one of the stories you’d make up back when you were still in the cell. Perhaps it was all a bad dream, and you’d wake up in Wooyoung’s arms in Yunho’s little cottage, his lips littering soft kisses down the column of your throat until you stirred back into consciousness. A shiver ran through your spine and you sluggishly tucked the blanket up to your chin.

But since this wasn’t a dream, you found yourself at a loss.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you whispered. “What should I do? Where are you?”

It was so quiet that you could imagine Wooyoung’s voice in your head saying, “Don’t worry about me. Just go. Get back on the ship and sail away and never look back.” You frowned at the thought, curling onto your side so that your knees were pressed up to your chest.

“I love you,” were the last words imaginary-Wooyoung murmured, before your mind grew blank. The silence that followed was what ultimately lulled you into a tranquil slumber.

You were awoken partly from the light from outside angling directly into your shut eyes, and partly from the agitated growl emitting from your stomach. Blearily blinking the sleep away, you glanced around the room, fumbling for the bottle in the knapsack. After gulping down enough to quench your thirst, you slid out from underneath the purple blankets.

And following digging your knuckles into your eye sockets, you stumbled towards your boots, shoving your still-sore feet in. You didn’t bother lacing up the loose threads. After all, you were just going down for lunch, anyway.

Downstairs, the inn seemed far more crowded than it had been in the morning. A twinge of paranoia sang its trill song in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thoughts away, moving to sit on a dark stool in the corner.

“Slept well, I presume?” The innkeeper grinned slightly, raising an eyebrow at the state of your rumpled hair. “What’ll you have for luncheon, then?”

“Anything you have, I suppose,” you replied in a raspy tone, clearing your throat slightly.

A bowl of steaming rice and battered fish cubes slid across the counter, along with a side of warm bread and a slab of light canary-hued butter melting off the top. You were quick to tuck in, eating at a pace that would most probably have your stomach complaining in the near future.

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to ask you something, but ultimately didn’t get the chance as an influx of customers poured through the doors. You barely glanced upwards, wanting nothing more than to finish up your meal and head back upstairs to properly plan out what you were going to do. The growing crowd’s noise was starting to make you feel a little antsy.

A solid five minutes later, your bowl was already empty, save for sticky rice kernels stuck to the bottom. You dropped a gold coin next to the half-eaten buttery bread as a token of thanks for the innkeeper.

And when you hopped off the stool and looked forwards, you could practically feel your heart lurch into your throat. The sight of him was one that you never thought you’d see again, nor did you want to. You’d recognize him anywhere. He looked unchanged, the same roughly-shaven beard covering the expanse of his squared jaw, the jagged scar that trailed over his sallow cheekbones. Those damned stormy eyes, the same color as the princess’ silver necklace.

The man that had guarded your cell for God knows how long surveyed the chatting crowd with an ugly scowl imprinted onto his features, nose upturned as if he misliked being amongst the common folk. He moved away from the door, shoving past the common civilians milling about. The innkeeper was the first to notice the burly man’s presence, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

Completely skipping over any need for niceties, the guard held up an unfurled scroll, “We’re searching all nearby premises for a dangerous criminal. Looks like this.”

From your position, you couldn’t see what he was showing the innkeeper, but it was quite obvious that it was some sort of rough artistic rendition of you. Dread trickled into you as you watched his face morph into one of slight recognition.

You needed to leave. Right now.

The busy throng of civilians were used to your advantage as you silently weaved through the crowded inn, people you bumped into ranging from deliriously drunk to slightly tipsy. Your heartbeat was thundering far too loudly, to the point where you couldn’t hear what the guard was growling out. You were a couple meters behind him now… if he so much as looked backwards, you would be a dead person standing.

Shit. The knapsack. It was still in your room. You probably wouldn’t last two days without it. And so, you set off for upstairs, pace steadily growing quicker, in tandem with your palpitating heart rate.

Grab your pack, leave from the window, repeated itself over and over in your head, a mantra of panic and dread. Downstairs was too much of a risk.

You were running so quickly that your boots caught onto the wood of the stair steps, and you just about face planted against the bunt of the hard surface. Pain blossomed across your nose bridge and temple. Slightly disoriented, you pushed yourself back onto your feet and rushed away. No time. There was no time at all to get hurt. You needed to leave. What good were you to Yunho, to Wooyoung, if you were thrown back into a cell?

Utter relief sank its greedy claws into you as you burst into your room. No time, no time, no time, your own voice echoed in your head. You grabbed the knapsack and pushed at the window and—

“Shit!” You cursed angrily when the window didn’t budge, the cold panes wedged tightly against the wooden slats. It was then that you noticed the bolted lock clipping the window pane and wooden framing together. “Oh, fuck.” Your breaths came out as tight, staggered pants.

Before you could decide on what to do next, you heard shrill screaming come from downstairs, the terrible sound of steel against flesh reaching your ears. There was nowhere to go from here. You were trapped.

Practically hyperventilating at this point, you scurried back to the door. Perhaps if you went downstairs and blended into the crowd, you could get out without anybody else noticing.

But alas, you never got the chance. Because just as you turned into the hall, you were met with the horrendous sight of the stormy-eyed guard, the very same one that you saw every single day you were in that rotten cell, an appalling look of triumph splayed across his rugged features.

A leering grin twisted his ugly features in such a horrid manner that it took all you had in you not to retch. You noticed the way his sword was unsheathed, a ripe shade of carmine trickling down its sleek blade. No doubt that’s the innkeeper’s blood, you thought solemnly.

Before you could react, the guard’s calloused hand shot out to grab your forearm, pulling you along with him so roughly that you stumbled onto the floor, hands and knees scraping against the wood in a manner that had your skin torn and bleeding. Feebly, you attempted to grab at anything to hit him with, to hold on to out of desperation. With no remaining patience, the monster of a man yanked you upwards by the throat. Choked gasps left you as your hands darted up to claw at his clenching fingers, but you immediately stiffened when he snarled out something that had your blood running cold.

“The Gods have been kind to you today, girl. I would have you speared right here… have you bleeding out until all the life has been drained right out of you.” His putrid breath fanned across your neck as you struggled in his iron-clad grip fruitlessly. “Lucky for you, the princess has personally requested you be brought back alive.”

It was dark outside when Wooyoung cracked his eyelids open for the second time. Through the window across from him, he could see a plethora of stars speckled across a blanket of raven black, glinting and winking at him through the glass. The room he was in was beautifully decorated, stone arches elegantly curving just below the ceiling and intricate flame holders spaced out on the pristine walls. The candles bathed the room in a gentle honey-like luminescence; calming and tranquil, almost a sedative. All of his previous aches and pains were now dulled to gentle numbness.

Where am I?

“Glad to see you’re back awake. You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”

Wooyoung nearly screamed at the sudden voice from beside him, flinching so hard that the crown of his skull knocked against the bed’s headboard. He hissed in pain, face contorting into a grimace.

The elf (Yeosang was his name, Wooyoung faintly recalled) muffled a snort underneath his breath before swiftly pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, “Does it still hurt anywhere? I tried to heal your wounds with sarcio essence, but seeing that you’re human, it’ll take a bit longer for you to recover. You took quite a beating, you know.”

Wooyoung tried to speak, but the dryness in his throat made it hard to speak.

“Oh, here.” The attentive elf poured cold water from a pitcher into a small cup, handing it over to Wooyoung. He gingerly drank, swallowing with great effort.

“Where… where am I?”

After pursing his lips in thought, Yeosang bowed his head slightly, glancing at the tight bandages wrapped around the dark-headed man’s torso. “You’re in Nymaeden.”

“Nymaeden?!” Wooyoung just about shrieked. His bruised features twisted in agony. Perhaps he shouldn’t have shouted. Then, in a much softer tone, he mumbled out, “how did I get here?”

He was, most likely, all the way across the world from you. Although his mind was still heavily clouded, you were still fresh and prominent in his mind. He hoped you were okay… left tied up on that pirate ship… Gods, this was all his fault… What a fool he was, thinking you’d be okay after all that you’d gone through. You probably thought that he was dead.

The blond elf arched an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” When Wooyoung shook his head in hesitant denial, Yeosang continued on patiently, leaning forward.

“It was just three nights ago…”

The waters were cold, seeping into his flesh and bones, filling every one of his orifices, the salt trickling into him like sand down an hourglass. He could feel it drip into his lungs. Bubbles of his life slipped past his cracked-open lips and Wooyoung, with what little energy he had left to spare, lifted his fingers and tried to catch the small globules of air. The sticky blood that clung onto his skin like honey dissipated into the ocean, staining the waters a darker, sinister hue.

Wooyoung closed his eyes. His limp body sank further and further down. This was the end.

But was it?

Mermaids, being curious and spirited creatures they were, watched the injured handsome man drift across the ocean, crimson blood seeping out of his wounds. They had seen how he was thrown off the ship, how he had fought when he was onboard. They took pity on him. Even unconscious, a pain, far deeper-rooted than his physical cuts and gashes, was quite obviously splayed across his features. It was the face of a man with an utterly broken heart. He had just lost something very dear to him, that was made abundantly clear.

The small group of mermaids glanced at each other worriedly, almost immediately reaching a mutual consensus. In a swarm of colorful scales and wispy locks of hair, they swam towards the unmoving body.

One of them shamelessly prodded at him, ogling him with widened eyes, and they waited with baited breath. Wooyoung did not awaken. And so, two of the elegant creatures wrapped their arms around his leaking torso, and jolted into a brisk swim, carrying him across the oceans. Wooyoung’s raven hair pulled away from his face, revealing the deep gashes across his paling skin. A thinning trail of his blood followed them. They had to be quick; this man was just on the verge of greeting death.

They were taking him to Nymaeden, the land of the Elves. The elvish folk were the best healers they knew, and they were rather fond of the mermaids. Perhaps they would be willing to heal this unfortunate soul.

“We found you on the beaches,” Yeosang said in a discolored tone. “You were… you were practically dead. It was a miracle we got your heart rate back up, really. You’re either an incredibly thick-skulled fighter or… you’re just a coward afraid of death.”

Wooyoung winced at the elf’s stinging remark. Which was it? Was he running away from what was inevitable? What was he fighting for?

Y/N, the small voice in his head chimed. Wooyoung swallowed heavily.

“These mermaids… could I speak to them? Maybe they saw where the pirate ship went!”

Almost immediately, Yeosang shook his head. “I’m sorry, the mermaids are long gone now. They’re due up North, and I doubt they’d come back anytime soon.” There was a whicker of sympathy hidden behind his molten hazel irises. “Do you have any other plans? We can’t exactly keep you here in the medbay for all eternity.”

For a second, Wooyoung’s ragged breathing stilled.

“Pirates,” he murmured under his breath unsurely, just loud enough for the elf to pick up. “Where can I find them?”

Rearing back, Yeosang hissed out, “you must’ve hit your head harder one too many times, human. You were almost in death’s bony grasp, and now you want to go back?”

“I don’t care!” Wooyoung erupted, flinging his hands upward, despite his muscles screeching in agony. “It’s not about me anymore. I left her on that ship… and I have to get her back. Please, Yeosang. Please.”

There was a beat of tense silence. Yeosang was no longer looking at the pleading injured man, but his head angled towards the window, gazing at the pale moon that decorated the night’s horizon in deep thought.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” the blonde elf warned, narrowing his eyes. Wooyoung nodded vehemently. “Elves and pirates don’t mesh well together, I’m sure you know. Pirates are nowhere to be found in this country, they know well enough to steer clear of our waters. However… if you head westward past our nation’s border, you’ll find yourself in Cinisia. It might look like a small, harmless country, but I’m afraid you’d be gravely mistaken. Cinisia is perhaps the most dangerous country on the maps. Along their west coast, there’s an illegal trading market. Pirates swarm the coast like ants would spilt honey. If you’re looking for pirates, I’d bet all my silvers they’re there.”

Wooyoung took a moment to contemplate this. “How do you know of this market?”

“I’ve got into muddy territory with pirates myself,” he uttered with a stormy expression. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have said this before. Elves and pirates? Not the best of friends, I can tell you that.”

Releasing a shuddering sigh, Wooyoung asked one final question. “Do you think I’ll find them? Do you think I’ll get Y/N back?”

Yeosang leveled a cold gaze with the dark-haired man, before gracefully rising to his feet and striding towards the door. “I’ll get you a map and traveling clothes and rations. You can leave at first light, so get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.”

A sinking feeling weighed heavily in Wooyoung’s stomach. He hadn’t answered the question.

Right before he left, Yeosang paused by the arched doorway and spoke once more without even turning to look at him. “And just so you know… if you make it out of that market alive and empty handed… I want you back here in Nymaeden. There’s something I want to offer you.”

The elf left in a blur of sage fabrics and soft flaxen locks. The honeyed flames of the candles withered inwards with his departure, faint tails of smoke dissipated into the air. The room faded into darkness, but Wooyoung was far too afraid to shut his eyes.

He was scared of dreaming of you.

That morning was one of the toughest he’s ever had. Yeosang had handed him a pack of traveling rations and equipment, bidding him adieu with a stout nod of his angular face. His muscles groaned and screamed with agony with his every step. The trek to Cinisia took hours upon hours, with hardly a break. Wooyoung was far too jittery to stop. He had to keep going. Creeks babbled with glowing water and the trees whispered poems in the wind, their alluring shadows offering a tempting sanctuary.

The contrast between Nymaeden and Cinisia was startling. Whilst the former was a luscious country of opals and forestry and pale elegant fortresses climbing to the sky, the latter was… well, it was quite hard to tell what anything looked like past the thick red smog lacing the horizon. The air stank of ale and smoke.

Definitely pirate territory, Wooyoung surmised grimly.

The shrill noises of whistling and hollering was a telltale sign that he was close. Wooyoung stepped over weather-beaten rocks, peering around the rocky cliff ledge to see hundreds, perhaps even thousands of ruffians gathered together in a colorful flurry of stolen fabrics, foods, and riches that seemed all the more glorious under the sweltering sun. Now, it smelled strongly of stale fruitcakes and gunpowder and sweat. Not the best of aromas, that was for sure. There were also pirates yelling out indiscernible prices that seemed to climb with every shout. He was pretty sure he saw a couple of them scuffling in a fight, some landing a couple square punches (most missed because they seemed to be too drunk to aim properly) on the nose before brushing their injuries off as if it were nothing.

What an awful place. Wooyoung could only hope you weren’t here. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He’d do anything to see you again.

After digging his knuckles into his eye sockets to wipe his weariness away, he blinked the colored spots away from his vision with a melancholic sigh. Gods, he was tired. Unfortunately, he had little time to lament, so he pushed himself onwards.

Wooyoung seemed to blend in just perfectly; he was thankful Yeosang decided to pack in a tattered cloak. The rest of the pirates didn’t seem to bat an eye. Standing in the middle of a throng of filthy seamen, it was hard for Wooyoung not to double over and retch. His roiling stomach didn’t aid his precarious state one bit.

Though everything seemed to be a cacophony of rowdy pirates and the clattering of illegal trade, Wooyoung picked up on a particular chunk of dialogue exchanged between a gaggle of men.

“Have you heard of the siren incident? Yeah, it happened near the Isles of Odralle! Can you believe? Ship was fuckin’ headed to the capital of Odralle, but they had a sudden change of plans; suddenly wanted to go to Aurecia. Cocky bastards think they can sell anything to anyone nowadays, yeah? Good thing the sirens took them. Wonder if they were tasty, though. Stupidity fouls the meat, my father used to say,” one of the pirates rambled as he slurped on his ale.

“Your father was a jackass,” another snorted, pounding on his chest with laughter. “What the fuck is a ‘siren incident’? I swear you lot gossip ten times more than me wife does.”

A third pirate shoved at his shoulder, a look of incredulity painting across his tanned features. “How have you not heard? A famous pirate ship - maybe one of the most famous ones in history - got lured into siren territory! The whole crew’s gone. Ship wreckage hasn’t been found. Nobody’s heard or seen them at all. My guess is that they made a calculation mistake and went off navigation charts once switching from Odralle to Aurecia. Then the sirens… got the best of ‘em.”

This elicited a gasp from the fourth in the group. “Wait! The big ship with the peg-leg captain with just one eye? Damn, just hearing stories about him gives me the creeps. Legend had it that he defeated not one, but two fuckin’ krakens during a storm! His ship flag is, er, the red and gold one… with a skull, right? And the skull’s laying in blood and swords?”

Wooyoung felt his blood run cold.

He knew that flag. The flag they were describing… was exactly the one he saw before they took you… before they threw him out for the sharks…

And before Wooyoung could even think it through, he found his body jerking forward, pushing past the bystanders and throwing himself into the gossip circle with all but a mangled growl escaping his throat. He yanked the last pirate to speak forward by the collar until the tanned man’s face was so close, his nose brushed against Wooyoung’s. The rest of the gang immediately quelled their incessant yammering, eyes growing wide in interest. Some placed their hands onto the hilts of their curved swords as a precaution, but they didn’t want to do anything hasty. After all, they loved a good fight.

“WHEN WAS THIS?” Wooyoung was glad his voice didn’t crack as he yelled, shaking the stricken pirate by the collar. “There was… there was a woman on that boat. She can’t be gone! She can’t be dead!”

They all looked at him as if he were crazy.

And after a second longer, Wooyoung’s grip loosened. It seemed he was a little rougher than first anticipated, because the fabric around the tanned pirate’s neck was crumpled and one of the pearly buttons came loose, dangling by a thin thread. He staggered backwards two steps, painfully sucking in lungfuls of rancid air.

Were you… were you gone? Was that it? Had you succumbed to the siren’s sweet song of death?

“Mate,” the tanned pirate spoke up with a lilt of sympathy in his tone. “There was never any woman on that ship. And besides, the ship hasn’t actually been found yet.”

The fire of hope that once burned brightly within the hearth of Wooyoung’s chest, was now but a dying ember. However, the man’s words gently blew on the warm ash until a new flame ignited. This was a different kind of hope. Who knows, maybe you had managed to escape the sirens. For all that was good on this planet, Wooyoung hoped you were still alive.

It was then that the most peculiar thing happened.

A man (if he could even be considered a man) - perhaps one of the ethereal beings he’s ever set his eyes upon - strode up to the circle of pirates, leveling his stormy gaze with Wooyoung. His hair was a shocking shade of pink, laying in loose strands across his forehead. A dirtied tunic hung over his shoulders in tatters, ripped and frayed in too many places to count. The belt that cinched around his waist was lopsided and unbuckled, dangling to the floor. The trousers he was wearing, a dusted shade of raven’s wing, was in the same state of disarray as his tunic. He was a mess, and Wooyoung could see a thick film of distraught glazing his eyes.

“My name is San,” he rasped. “And I was on that pirate ship.”

The marble was cold beneath your scraped knees. Your eyes studied the golden rivets decorating the pale white floor, splintering off into branches of aureate, though it was quite difficult to see through the bruises and unyielding blood obscuring your vision. If your hands weren’t bound behind your back, you would’ve at least tried to staunch the crimson seeping out of the fresh cut you sported across your temple. The guards had thrown kicks and punches everywhere they could reach until you had stopped struggling, every fibre of your being felt nothing but raw pain and the kind of anger that left you completely and utterly exhausted.

You just… you wanted it to all be over.

However, with the King and Queen sitting tall and proud just meters in front of you, you highly doubted things would be resolved at the snap of a finger. Beside their majesties sat the rest of the royal bloodline, dainty crowns of lustrous tawny and glinting silvers resting upon their regal heads.

They made you sick.

“I must say,” the Queen purred at last, placing her chin on her palm while gazing at you with a malevolent smile, irises of amethysts glinting in the cold light. “It’s impressive how you managed to escape the dungeons in your condition. Even got yourself a pretty little boat and everything.”

You could feel yourself blanching. How did she know about the pirate ship you left by the beaches?

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, Y/N is only but a legend. Though nobody truly believes you’re real, you are still very much respected throughout the nation. And since you’re regarded so highly amongst the common folk,” the King rumbled, clasping his hands together with a smug leer tracing his lips. “You’ll be made a lowly servant for the lovely Princess, Amarelia.” He gestured further down the line, to a sweet young girl barely of age. The Princess was a frail thing, with skin of dove’s wings and lips of sweet peaches and lashes that kissed the apples of her cheeks. She somewhat resembled a fawn, what with her large eyes and innocently placant features. Her curled sienna locks were gathered into an elegant updo, showcasing the glimmering silver laces on her dainty neck.

The very ones that you tried to steal so long ago, and the entire reason you were even here. That necklace was what made you a well-known myth in Cerulea.

Anger broiled deep within you, but you kept your mouth clamped shut. There were guards ready to strike if you moved even a centimeter, and you decided to play it safe for now.

There was something you were practically dying to ask, though.

What did you do to Yunho?

“To welcome you into servitude,” the Queen surveyed you with hooded eyes. “Crawl to Amarelia and kiss her shoes. Thank us for not having you executed on the spot. Perhaps it shall give you an idea of your rank in this castle. You are nothing to us.”

“Mother!” The Princess gasped in protest with something akin to pity and horror melding into her soft complexion. It was clear that the sweet dove wanted nothing to do with this. In a way, you felt sorry for her as well.

Nobody paid her any mind.

With a heavy heart, you started shuffling towards the Princess. Pain and humiliation blossomed across your skin like flames crawling over oiled wood. A part of you considered standing your ground, lifting your head high, refusing to obey any of her commands. And you would’ve, truly. But… Yunho. If there was even the slightest chance he was alive and kept hostage because of you, you needed to remain on your best behavior. For his sake and even perhaps for your own.

Once in front of her, you dipped your head to quickly brush your lips against her fine cream flats, immediately straightening your spine with a grimace afterwards. Amarelia regarded you with a sympathetic look.

The guards stepped forward to roughly drag you back to your original spot. Your mind barely registered the cold sensation of metal clamping around your neck, the rattling of chains a ghostly echo in your ears. The Queen was grinning so widely it was a wonder her face didn’t split in half. It took everything you had in you not to spit onto the floor in defiance.

When they started tugging you towards the grand double doors, you realized that you couldn’t just sit around and allow them to throw you around like a ragdoll. You kicked out your feet in resistance, ignoring the cinching pain of the metal around your neck, boots thudding against the smooth marble surface. The guards swore under their breath, pulling you along ever harder.

“WHERE’S YUNHO?” Your hoarse voice ripped across the throne room. “DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL YUNHO?! LET GO OF ME! YOU MURDERER!” The small quirk of the Queen’s perfect eyebrows had you spouting out obscenities, rage bubbling over your struggling form.

Double-doors swung open, and with that action brought the largest crowd you’ve ever seen in your life. There must’ve been thousands - no, hundreds of thousands of people out there. And they’ve all come for you. The myth and the legend. Y/N L/N.

It was all so sudden. You didn’t even remember how you got to the front of the highrise platform, being forced back onto your knees with a grunt. There were common folk and wealthy lords alike littered about the ocean of heads. Some looked to be terrified, others watching on with hanging lips of awe.

You swallowed heavily.

“Behold!” The King bellowed from somewhere behind you. There was a sneering lilt to his tone that made you want to spring upwards and knock his teeth out. “Your beloved Y/N!”

The crowd in front of you erupted into pandemonium. It was a strange and overwhelming cacophony of displeased boos and excited screams.

“A legend and a hero to some of you, I’m sure,” the Queen hummed, somehow instantaneously quieting the buzzing mass of people. “Now diminished to a mere servant. Y/N L/N is nothing, and acting like they are worth any bit more than scum will lead to treason. I’m truly sorry to disappoint some of you.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all. The crowd practically roared at that, most especially the commoners at the back, yelling curses until their throats were raw as they threw moldy apple cores at the guards.

You hung your head in shame, gaze trained to the wood slants of the stage. Hushed murmurs travelled about the rest of the crowd like waves gently crashing against shore. You were alone on this beach, it seemed.

Truly, utterly alone.

You must’ve had the worst luck in the world.

No matter how much you’ve fought, struggled, resisted, it always ended up the same. With you kept captive. That musty jail cell because of a damned necklace, then bound on the pirate ship to be sold off in Aurecia (a part of your heart sunk at the memory of the friendly fairy-pirate San jumping overboard)… and now a different cell, your wrists chained to the cobbled wall behind you. Your arms were sore yet numb, almost having lost any feeling in them, but that was the least of your concerns.

It was bright here, unlike your first cell. Back then it was always dark, and always cold. There was a crackling fire across the room, licking hungrily at the burning wood, casting amber phantoms across the expanse of your place of confinement. It wouldn’t be long until the fire died out and you’d be shivering once more. There was also a small window, but it was far away from your reach, and you wouldn’t even bother to try, considering your arms were laced above your head.

Being back in the castle had your mind racing. Everything had been so loud outside. But now that you were alone with only your own thoughts to accompany you, it almost felt suffocatingly quiet. The silence was deafening, roaring awful things into your ears.

You missed Wooyoung. What would he do in your position? You hoped he wasn’t here, truly. He deserved to be happy elsewhere. But you couldn’t deny that a small part of you wished he was back here with you.

Face it, he’s not coming to save you, the snarky voice in your head spat out. Nobody is. You’re on your own. You have to save yourself.

It was at that moment the door creaked open. A man with silver hair slid in, grimness splayed across his defined features, like the wiry shadows of tree branches marring the warm light of the room. You spotted the medical kit he clutched in his sure hands.

He was the royal healer. It somewhat surprised you that the King and Queen sent him. Perhaps it was Princess Amarelia’s doing; she seemed to have a pure enough heart. Her parents, on the other hand…

“Are you alright?” His voice was a soft thing, a mere whisper, almost lost to the loud snapping of the fireplace. Hesitance was evident in his tone, accompanied with stinging sympathy. “I apologize, that was a foolish question. Of course you’re not, that’s why I’m here. My name is Seonghwa, I’m the royal healer for this castle. May I?” He brandished a bottle of strange blue ointment and cotton patches. You had just been humiliated and degraded in front of thousands of people, and now a royal healer was apologizing to you? He was certainly giving you whiplash.

After pausing for the slightest of moments, you dipped your head just slightly, still waiting for something bad to happen.

“Sarcio essence,” Seonghwa murmured gently as he doused the patch with the blue liquid. “Ceruleans steal it from the elves of Nymaeden. Its healing abilities are unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Ever since magic, of course. But that’s a thing of the past now. Magic is illegal in Cerulea. Not sure if you heard while you were down there in your cell.”

That made a frown flicker across your face. Cerulea, the ever-perfect country, needing to steal things from other kingdoms?

And with another stout nod, Seonghwa leaned forward to swipe at your fresh wounds and bruises, cleaning away the dried blood with nimble movements. It stung at first, restrained hisses escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like your skin was burning, and everything was on fire and the silent monsters were screaming your name.

“It’s a good thing if it stings a little. That’s your body working to put itself together.”

It was silent for a long time. You had to clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip so as to not let him hear your pathetic winces of pain.

The healer seemed to notice this, brows furrowing. “You don’t have to try to be strong around me, Y/N. You’re hurting, and it’s okay to show that. I won’t think any less of you.”

You eyed him with somewhat of a dubious aura, before bobbing your head for the last time. “Thank you,” you muttered brokenly.

Seonghwa hummed softly in response, screwing the cap back onto the sarcio essence.

The familiar creak of the door swinging open floated across the rooms, and you snapped your head upwards. Even the healer appeared to be surprised, bowing his head low at the newcomers. Also known as, if you had to put it eloquently, the true and utter banes of your existence. If you were the single flickering candle, they would be the tornados constantly whispering your flame good night.

It was the King and the Queen, draped in a waterfall of golden lace, diaphanous silver silks, and striking tones of mauve matching the hue of their angry irises. They held their heads high, looking at you as if you were the shit stuck on the bottom of their fine shoes.

“Leave us,” the Queen commanded Seonghwa without even glancing in the direction of the medic. She kept her gaze trained on you, and only you. Silently, he left the room with not another word, shuffling out of the door, unable to spare you one last sympathetic glimpse.

After surveying you, the Queen graced you with what seemed to be a smirk, and beckoned towards the guards behind her.

“Bring him in,” she said, practically dripping with delighted malice.

What happened next had you choking on your own gasps, tears immediately rimming your eyes like frost sitting atop tree branches on a harsh wintry morning. It had your stomach curling into itself, nausea climbing up your throat, begging to escape. A scream, so disgustingly raw and broken that it didn’t sound like your own voice echoed throughout the room.

They threw a peach-haired man in front of you, and he crumpled to the ground as if he were nothing more than a stringless puppet. If you thought that you were hurt, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to the sweet baker that you were so very fond of. He looked to be half dead already, bruises mapping the expanse of his pallid skin as abundant as there were stars in the sky. His once-bright pink strands of hair now looked a sullen grey, as if all the life had been seeped out of him. Dried blood crusted his cuts and gashes, littered all over his shivering form. You swore, with every fiber of your being, you were going to kill whoever hurt him.

“YUNHO!” You cried, heart lodged in your throat. The soft giant who had once been so boisterous, laid unmoving on the cobblestone floor. Kicking against the wall, you yanked away at your manacles fruitlessly until your wrists grew raw, wanting nothing more than to fall to your knees and crawl to him and ask if he was alright. It didn’t matter that you were hurting yourself in the process, you just… you wanted to get out of these chains, out of here, away from everything.

How dare they?

Tears were rolling down the apples of your cheeks, conjoining at your jaw and dripping mercilessly onto the ground. A constant drip, drip, drip of your pain made loud and clear to everybody else in the room.

You were so furious, so heartbroken, that you had forgotten anybody else existed for a short second. It was a shame that you were only reminded when one of the guards stalked up with the King’s nod of approval, gripping Yunho by his faded locks and yanking him upwards. His face didn’t seem to even flinch, numb and desensitized.

Was Yunho gone? No… no, he couldn’t possibly be…

A confusing concoction of sobs and desperate pleas and hiccups tumbled past your lips far too quickly for even you to understand yourself

The events that transpired rushed by in an indecipherable blur. You could barely pick up what the Queen murmured.

“This beloved baker friend of yours…” she cocked her head to the side in mock-thought, purple eyes flashing dangerously. “He is strong, I’ll give you that. However, he seems quite adamant not to give us any information about the other prisoner, Wooyoung. They were childhood best friends, no? I’m sure you remember him, don’t you?”

Your heart stopped at the sound of his name.

How dare you? How dare you? How dare you? The mantra reverberated in your skull until it was all you could think, staining your mind with an inky, poisonous black.

The mocking sympathy evident in her tone had you thrashing against your bonds all the more. “And alas… I’m afraid we no longer have any use for him.”

Just like that, the guard holding Yunho upwards drove his longsword clean through the gentle baker’s abdomen, dropping him to the floor. An ungodly wail tore from your vocal chords, resonating across the room and painting wicked smiles across the two royal leaders of Cerulea. Much to your horror, Yunho uttered no sound, merely dropping onto the stone with a thud. Crimson pooled at his wound so quickly, that the rose-hued ichor grazed against your feet in a matter of seconds. You stopped struggling, the drumming of your heart loud in your ears.

Since your gaze hadn’t left Yunho’s unmoving body, you didn’t even noticed the Queen sidestepping the puddle of blood, forcing your eyes away by gripping your slick face with one of her cold hands. You tried to pull your cheeks away, but it was as if her fingers were steel. Her purple eyes were so close to yours, you could see the flecks of aureate gold embedded within the enticing lilac. The Queen flashed you a charming smile, as if she hadn’t just murdered your friend in cold blood. It seemed she noticed your pounding heart rate, because she murmured an incantation in old Cerulean that you couldn’t quite pick up. In an instant, you could feel yourself relaxing in her grip, wrists going slack in the cuffs, the muscle in your chest thumping slower and slower. A part of you was afraid it would grind to a stop.

Her pearly whites flashed as she grinned evilly. The lavender in her eyes darkened drastically, to the point where any trace of gold disappeared completely.

“We didn’t kill Yunho,” she leaned closer and whispered into your ear, her tawny locks tickling the side of your face. “Killing is barbaric.”

There was an old story of a gingerbread man and a fox crossing a river you often heard retellings of during your childhood. The fox swore up and down that he wouldn’t eat the gingerbread man whilst helping him cross the river. As suspicious as the gingerbread man was at first, he eventually climbed onto the sly fox’s back, naive with hope. The fox arrived at the other side of the river alone and with a full stomach.

It seemed you were the foolish gingerbread man and the Queen was the fox. The Queen’s magic seeped into your being, clouding your mind in a dangerous haze you could no longer fight.

You believed her.

[deniigi]

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

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

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

 --

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

 ---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.  

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

 ---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

 --------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

 --------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

 -----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

 -----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

 -------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

 -----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

 -------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

 -----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

 -------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

 --------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

 ----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

 ---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

 ------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

 ----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

 ---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

 --------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

 -----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

 -------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

 ---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

 ----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

 ------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

 --------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

 ---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

[cherryys]

Okay so i think i figured out what bothered me so much about Nobara's comeback (don't get me wrong, i love her, but i have complaints)

Firstly, i feel she should've been brought in earlier. Hell, could've even had her help Yuuji pull Megumi out of the abyss for that extra emotional weight. But bringing her back this late into the game with 4 chapters left feels a bit weird to me. There's no build-up, she's just there, woke up from her coma half an hour ago and ready to go. I know there was general hints that she was coming back, but there isn't really a palpable set-up throughout the arc.

Secondly, it completely steals the spotlight from Megumi. He was someone whose comeback DID have set-up, the thing they were working towards this entire arc. Hell, he even does get his moment and fights back. He has such a strong reaction last chapter, and then . . . nothing. After all this build-up, he'd been effectively sidelined and made irrelevant for the sake of this development. No continued shadow puddles, no mention at all this chapter or even a twitch from him. just the one puddle. Especially after Yuuji's words too? After such build-up?

Megumi and Yuuji both have been set up to be the ones to deliver the final blow to Sukuna, as the two people he'd hurt the most and the ones who had essentially started this entire mess, with arguably the strongest dynamic and bond in the series. It makes sense they'd be the ones to put an end to it, right?

Except. . .Nobara deals the final blow instead. The literal deutrogonist, after being sidelined for 2 years, finally has his moment, overcomes his loneliness and depression at least momentarily, you have this gigantic build-up of him finally pulling through and finishing his character arc and killing the main villain, the person who hurt him the most alongside his best friend— and then Nobara sweeps in and does it instead, along with Yuuji. And his only contribution throughout what is supposed to be his shining moment is a fucking shadow puddle.

Yeah. Gege has a tendency to fumble a lot of things about Megumi, important elements and developments, and it seems he shows no signs of stopping.

[telli1206]

House Of Tricks - Part 2

Carlos joins Uma’s crew, and Jay is ready to shoot his shot with him. But, is there another pirate just waiting to rock the boat?

Haaaaaappy Birthday, @hersilentlanguage! I know you’ve been eagerly awaiting a part 2 of this, so I got my ass in gear just for you, because you deserve ALL THE LOVE today. I hope it’s the best birthday yet for you. Much love 💖💖💖💖

Part 1

Evil, Jay never thought an attitude could be this hot.

But the freckled boy that’s in his room right now with arms crossed defiantly,  glaring daggers at him from the other side of his bed, is looking all kinds of fucking hot. His piercing brown eyes alone are enough to make Jay lose his breath from the tightness in his...chest. 

Or, from somewhere else.

“I never said I’d room with you. That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

Jay smiles back at the sneering pink lips directed at him. Carlos is trying so hard to look angry and put off, but it’s not having the desired effect at all. Everything he does is just so damn cute.

“Is that so?” 

Jay stares into angry eyes, refusing to look phased by the growing heat behind them. “Well, I don’t recall specific sleeping arrangements in the agreement at all. Unless, I missed something?”

With every word Jay takes a tiny step closer, inching his way into Carlos’ space as subtley as he can. The boy is quick to notice though. and Jay recognizes the slight tinge of fear that flickers into his eyes, which is soon blinked away and replaced with a hardened stare. Carlos takes a few deliberate steps to his side, sidling away from the potential Jay is creating to have him cornered by the window.

Jay snickers and shakes his head, maneuvering himself quickly in Carlos’ direction and darting an arm out to block his way. “Not so fast, pup. Where are you off to? We’ve got to figure out what side of the bed is gonna be yours.”

Jay uses his free hand to gesture towards his bed, throwing Carlos a suggestive wink. But Carlos responds with only an eye roll and a generous step back, taking him out of Jay’s reach.

“I need to talk to Uma. I’m about to call off our deal.” 

“Aw, c’mon now, don’t be mean,” Jay whines, jutting his lip out in an overly dramatic pout. “I saved you from your mom, brought you to The Revenge, convinced Uma to take you in. Don’t you like me even a little bit after all that?”

He adds wide, sad eyes and a quiver in his lip as he waits for Carlos’ reaction. But the boy simply scoffs, brushing some white curls out of his eyes as he looks away from Jay with a scowl still on his lips.

“Is that what you call breaking into my house, kidnapping me and stealing my mom’s furs so she’ll kill me if I try to go back, giving me no other options but to stay here and join Uma’s crew?” Carlos snaps, with an indignant curl to his lips. “SO sorry I forgot to thank you for all that.”

Jay chuckles at the heavy sarcasm in Carlos’ tone. His incensed banter is so entertaining, Jay is almost too distracted to notice Carlos’ fast shuffle around to Jay’s unprotected side. When he realizes what’s happening he takes a flying leap to grab at a freckled arm, but narrowly misses as Carlos tucks and rolls onto the bed, popping up with a triumphant smile on the other side. 

“Pup! Get back here!” Jay snarls, crawling across the bed, watching Carlos intently as he scoots his way to the door.

"This...roommate situation just isn’t going to work out for me, Jay,” Carlos laments mockingly, shrugging at him. “I’m fixing this with Uma, and there’s nothing that’s going to change my mind.”

Jay sighs when Carlos reaches for the handle, but at that moment the door swings open, and Carlos jumps back, arms raised, watching another familiar pirate sweep into the room, with a taunting sneer that glints almost as brightly as the hook dangling from his coatsleeve.

“And how’re the new roomies gettin’ along?” Harry sing-songs, his eyes darting from Jay’s crawling stance on the bed to Carlos and back. He takes in the boy’s sneer in front of him and lets out a chuckle.

“Aw, whatsa matter pup?” he coos, slipping a finger under Carlos’ chin to give it a tickle. 

Carlos snarls and smacks him away, almost opting to take a step behind him. But he glances at Jay and chooses to take a step over instead, keeping him closer to the door than the bed.

“I want to talk to Uma. This-” Carlos emphasizes by waving his hand between himself and Jay, “-isn’t going to work.”

Harry grins, casting his gaze back to Jay. “Well wha’ happened here now, Jay? I figured yeh’d be happy to share a bed with the cutesy lil’ pup.” He drops a hand to Carlos’ shoulder, tightening his grip when the boy tries to wriggle away. “Stop bein’ such a bed hog now.”

“Shut it, Hook,” Jay growls through gritted teeth. “I’m MORE than happy to share with him and he knows it.”

“I don’t want to,” Carlos butts in, still trying to shake off Harry. “If Uma won’t give me another room...I’d rather, take my chances at home. With my mother.”

“Eh, I might rethink that if I was you, pup,” Harry snarks. He raises a contempuous brow before ducking back out the door, leaving a curious Carlos and Jay staring pensively from inside the room.

When Harry returns, he’s carrying a balled up...animal?...of some sort, splattered in an array of blue and green paints. It’s only when he starts to unball it, letting the fur roll to the ground, that Carlos recognizes what it is and releases an audible gasp that carries a mix of both shock and horror.

“Harry!” Carlos chastises, snatching the fur from his hands. He pulls it open, holding it by the arms as the rest of the coat falls down in a flurry of color and the gleam of fresh paint, and lets out choked sob.

“Y-you...didn’t! Not my mom’s favorite fox fur!” 

Carlos’ eyes are wide with fear, bulging at the sight of the clumpy and  sticky fur coat, showing only a few tufts of the soft, silvery gray fur that once adorned the entire coat.

“Heh, yeah...Harry chuckles softly, rubbing at the back of his neck. He tries his usual playful smile, but even Jay can see the tinge of regret in his eyes.

“Gil wanted teh try an’ make it a lil’ more Uma’s style...” Harry explains slowly, his eyes dragging up and down the coat in Carlos’ hands. Carlos dips a finger into a spot of paint, rubbing it between his fingers for a moment before dropping the coat down in disgust.

“You ruined it! She’s going to kill me!” Carlos groans, clutching at his head in frustration, his eyes alight with fear and anguish. “At least I had a chance to get them back when they were just stolen!”

“Yeh. Guess you can’t paint fur, can yeh? Gilly and I learnt the hard way. I jus’ wish we stopped after that one...”

“Harry...you didn’t!” Carlos eyes are even wider, if that’s possible, and he’s gripping Harry’s shoulders now, the skin of the pirate’s biceps looking white where the boys nails are dug in. 

Harry rasps out a tiny laugh, smiling weakly at the boy’s pained expression. “Sorry, pup. Best if you stay here, don’tcha think? At least yeh know Uma’ll keep yeh safe.”

The fire that Carlos possessed just a few minutes is lost now, buried underneath the terror he has at the thought of facing Cruella’s wrath. He drops onto the bed wordlessly, burying his face in his hands and fisting and tugging at his curls.

“Jay.”

Jay almost doesn’t register his name, he’s too intently focused on the boy he wanted in his bed, now sitting so close and looking so distressed. Harry says his name again and he finally looks up, recognizing his nod towards the door as a signal for them to speak privately.

He slides off the bed, stopping for a moment with one hand hovering over Carlos, silently contemplating the offer of a comforting pat. But Harry clears his throat loudly, prompting Jay to drop his hand and follow him outside.

“Jus’ one lil’ thing, lad,” Harry starts, his voice just above a whisper. “I know Uma agreed that you could have pup in yer room, but she doesn’ want ‘im teh hate us either...so, she said you have a week teh make...’friends,’ er whatever, or she’ll give ‘im another room if he asks fer it.”

“What??” Jay rasps, eyes narrowed at Harry. 

Harry puts his hands up defensively. “Aye now, don’ kill the messenger, ‘k? I’m jus’ tellin’ yeh what the cap’n told me.” 

But Harry pulls a smirk before Jay can start to relax. “O’ course, I did tell Uma I’d be happy teh share a room with the runt if he doesn’ want ya,” he adds with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Jay’s mouth drops at Harry’s words. He quickly recovers though and clenches his jaw, balling his fists as he stares Harry down.

“What the fuck, Hook??” He grits, putting a fist in the pirate’s face. “That’s playin’ dirty! I thought I made it pretty clear he’s mine, didn’t I?”

Harry backs up, giving Jay a casual shrug. “Not if he doesn’ want yeh, I guess. Uma’s orders. She wants those traps, and she’s not willin’ teh give ‘em up jus’ so you can keep ‘em fer yourself.” He smiles and turns to leave, giving Jay a final glance over his shoulder.

“Pup’s cute, yeh know? An’ fiery. Can’ waste that if yeh don’ know how to have fun together. I’m sure he an’ I can have a good time.” 

Jay growls as Harry blows him a kiss before finally walking away. He curses his own luck, hurrying back into his room and to Carlos. He didn’t realize his plan to woo the new pirate would have a timeline, but he’ll be damned if he lets Harry get the spoils of his labor.

He closes the door behind him gently while he looks for Carlos. He’s no longer seated on the bed, but a quick scan and Jay easily spots the boy curled up in the bed, still and silent, with his back facing the door. Jay’s threadbare blanket is draped over him, pulled up to his shoulders, with his head resting on the pillow.

Jay exhales quietly, taking slow, gentle steps toward the bed. He sits on the edge to carefully toe off his boots, his eyes never leaving the boy in his bed. Carlos breaths are even and steady, and Jay can only assume that he’s asleep. Not surprising after all the change he’s gone through in just a single day.

Jay opts not to disturb him. Instead, he rolls over onto the bed, pulling the blanket over him to and laying beside Carlos, facing his back. He watches the boy’s breathing for a few minutes, his fingers itching to touch him, to wrap an arm around his waist and hold him while he sleeps.

He shakes off his urges though, choosing to close his eyes and try to let sleep take him over. The image of the freckled boy next to him still haunts his mind, his thoughts consumed with his desires, hindered by a new limited time span. 

Harry can’t fucking win Carlos. His usual outright flirting just isn’t going to cut it anymore. It’s time to come up with a plan. 

[shhh-no-ones-home]

how to save a life bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Good old whump 😌 this is so fucking long (wc: 2113)

also i know some people are weird about dogs so just know reader has a very large typically seen as aggressive kind of dog (but hes not, just a little slobbery and awkward lol)

Song: say something by danny worsnop and matty mullins 

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

"I can't take your shit anymore. If you won't do anything about it then I will! I quit!"

I yelled, untying my apron and tossing it at my manager. One of the cooks had been harassing me for the last couple weeks and he refused to say or do anything. But I had reached my breaking point.

"Come on y/n, we need you! You can't leave me short staffed like that."

He whined and I shook my head, making my way to the back door.

"No, fuck you Rodney, you can find someone else to deal with it."

I said annoyed, clocking out, grabbing my stuff and storming out the back. I gave him the finger as the door slammed behind me, sighing angrily at myself for not finding a new job sooner.

"Fuck!"

I yelled, kicking the brick wall before leaning into it, shoving my head in my hands. Then I heard a harsh cough. My attention snapped towards the man limping through the alley way, seemingly clutching at his side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I asked, reaching into my bag and gripping my pepper spray tightly.

"Sir?"

I asked again, moving closer to him in the darkness. When he looked up at me I realized who it was. I had seen pictures of him before. What was his name? James? Yeah captain Americas bear friend. From the museum.

"Help."

He managed before falling face first into the dirt. I gasped as I watched his body go limp. In that moment I wasn't quite sure what to do. I couldn't call someone cause I didn't know who to call, and God it was gonna take everything in me to get him back to my apartment. But I couldn't just leave him here. Shit. I sighed before kneeling down and rolling him over. His face was bruised and bloodied, the same as the knuckles on his hand. He must have really gotten into it with someone. I bit my lip before sitting him up with a groan.

"Okay james, work with me here."

I sighed out, going around him and picking him up. He made a soft noise and I looked at him, his eyelids bobbing open for a second.

"Two blocks, that's all it is."

I told myself more than anything, slinging his arm over my shoulder and walking with him dragging his feet. The whole walk was labored breathing and groaning. He was heavier than he looked but then again he was pretty much solid muscle. And though he wasn't much help I could tell he was trying. That endurance was paying off a little bit. But as soon as we were to my apartment he was out, practically falling through the door after I opened it. I only just caught him, laying him on the floor gently and dragging him to the couch. As I tried to put him on it I could hear my dog whining and tapping his toes in his crate.

"Give me a minute Wolf."

I said half annoyed as I got James flat on his back. When I was content with him laying there I let my massive akita-rottweiler mix out of his crate. He immediately went to James and started sniffing him excitedly until I snapped my fingers at him.

"Hey, leave the nice man alone. Let's go potty."

I said, him barking and running towards the door. I quickly got his leash on and took him down to the streets of new York. We walked a good block before finally heading back to my apartment. After I took Wolfs leash off he was right back in James' face.

"Hey, what did I say? Go lay down."

I instructed, him making a sad sound before pouting his way to his large bed in front of the window. I sighed, looking over James with my hands on my hips. Then I noticed a darkened spot just under his jacket and immediately began to worry.

"Shit. Is that blood?"

I said, stepping closer. I watched his face as I knelt down, pushing the coffee table further away from the couch.

"James I don't know if you can hear me but I'm gonna undo your jacket."

I said in a clear voice, watching to see if he moved but he didn't, prompting me to go on anyway. When the front of it was undone I gasped. He was indeed bleeding. It took me a minute to get it fully off, his shirt following right after. To my surprise his whole torso was covered in scrapes and bruises, along with what seemed to be a gunshot wound. Luckily it was only a graze. That I could treat.

"What the hell were you doing?"

I asked out loud even though I knew he couldn't hear me. I shook my head before going to get the first aid kit from under my bed, wolf following me around my apartment. I guess lucky for him I went to medical school, I mean I flunked out my last semester, but still. That's only three months I'd have to finish before I'm a licensed nurse. I had this. Right?

"God I hope I don't have to sew this man shut."

°°°°°°°°°

The next few hours I just sat at my breakfast bar staring at him in the living room, sipping coffee and trying not to wake Wolf who was now fast asleep at my feet. I was waiting patiently for him to wake up, to make noise, to move even an inch. but it never happened. He was however still breathing, the portable heart monitor I had attached to his finger beeping softly.

When the sun started peering through my curtains though I figured it was best to check on him again. After all, I would need to change his bandages soon so whatever it was that hit him didn't get infected. Wolf for one was very excited again for me to be working on the stranger, running to him and getting in his face again.

"Wolf!"

I scolded, James jolting upright as I pulled the collar back on his large black neck.

"Sorry."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked around for a moment before looking down and wincing in pain as he touched his abdomen.

"Go lay down."

I said harshly, wolf not quite budging at first. But going when I nudged him with my knee.

"Um, I hope you don't mind that. I did as best I could but it's been a while. I was gonna come change them."

He stared at me, looking to wolf in his bed when he sighed.

"Thank you."

He said softly and I nodded.

"Do you mind laying back down? It's a little easier."

I said and he did, slowly, watching my every move as I knelt beside him. I dug into my kit to get new dressing, peeling the old off and shaking my head. It was still bleeding but there wasn't much I could do about it.

"Do you remember much about last night James?"

I asked and he shook his head no, the dog tags around his neck shifting. I focused intently on what I was doing, hearing wolf sigh again. I rolled my eyes, sending him a playful look.

"You aren't afraid of dogs are you James?"

I asked and he shook his head again.

"Okay wolf, come here."

He stood quickly, panting as he came over and stood beside me, looking like he had a wide smile on his face as he sat down. James looked up at him and smiled back, bringing his right hand to scratch at wolf's head. It was a good distraction as I fixed his wounds for a second time. As I put the stuff away I was forced to remember he was still shirtless.

"Oh uh, I washed your shirt too, it was pretty soaked through."

He nodded, making a pained face as he moved to sit up, letting me help as he did. Wolf took that as an invitation to get on the couch, his large dog body taking up a good portion of it as he laid across James' lap. I looked to the ceiling as he laughed, petting him some more.

"I'm so sorry. If you want him off all you have to do is tell him to get down."

I said standing up, going to the kitchen to wash my hands.

"I don't mind it, he reminds me of an old friend."

He lamented as I came back, wiping my hands on a towel.

"They must've been one hell of a friend."

He nodded slowly.

"Hey uh, you can call me Bucky. if you want."

I reached for his hand and shook it.

"Y/n."

"Thanks for this y/n."

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm not gonna lie James, uh Bucky, I was a little shook up last night. I had just quit my job when you came stumbling down the alley I almost wasn't sure what to do with you. And I know as a citizen I probably should have called an ambulance but as an ally..."

I paused. he looked a little more into what i had to say now.

"I've, well, I've been around the block with a string of heroes before and none of them could ever actually get help from paramedics. So I did what I could."

He nodded.

"I really appreciate it y/n, I must've been desperate after all, to go to a complete stranger."

He laughed.

"I'm just glad you found me and not someone else. Or who knows what could have happened."

"those were my thoughts exactly."

there was a long pause, me standing awkwardly and both of us staring at the floor. then Wolf barked, taking both of our attention as i jumped at the sudden sound.

"guess he agrees."

i said and he laughed again.

"ya know i really appreciate this. is there a way i could repay you? some how?"

he asked and i shook my head.

"no, i couldn't let you do that. really."

i said quickly, holding my hand out, watching as he struggled to stand.

"i want to."

he insisted, stumbling forward and i caught him. he panted out a pained noise.

"knowing you're safe is enough. come over here, lets get you something to eat."

i said, walking him slowly to the bar i was just sat at and feeling his back muscles strain against my palm as i held him upright.

"careful, you keep taking care of me i might never leave."

he said through a wince as i placed him in the chair.

"promise?"

i laughed and he sent me a soft look before smiling. i could feel the blush run across my face as i moved to the fridge, making a face like i was an idiot for saying that.

"uh i went to school to be a nurse after taking care of my last boyfriend. he was terminally ill but didnt want to stay at a care facility. i guess ive kind of been missing it since he passed last year."

"im sorry."

he said quietly as i pulled things out of the fridge for breakfast.

"its alright. ive been getting by. plus i have wolfie over there to keep me busy."

i said with a smile, the large dog wagging his tail as he sat at the edge of the kitchen.

"im sure he appreciated all you did for him."

bucky said and i nodded once, moving to the stove.

"uh, how do you like your eggs?"

he turned in the chair to look at me.

"what's your specialty?"

i laughed.

"anything but poached."

he smiled widely at me.

"over easy please."

"great. that i can do."

there was another long silence as i began frying the eggs. then he cleared his throat.

"would it be a little Stockholm syndrome-y to ask you out after saving my life?"

i let out a short, loud, laugh before looking at him.

"oh you're serious?"

i asked and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"unless youre not looking but the least i could do is take you to dinner."

i nodded slowly, plating the food and setting the plates on the counter.

"im not but i wouldnt say no to dinner. and who knows, maybe id be open to seeing you after. maybe with a shirt and not bleeding on my couch."

he picked up the fork and raised it in cheers to me.

"ill take it. and its the least i could do. as a thank you."

"its a date then."

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 1: Charlotte

Summary: Motley Crue High School AU with The Pack (Lola, Charlotte, Peach, & Eileen); Winter, 1984. Charlotte’s halfway through her Junior year of High School when Lola arrives in town, and becomes a part of Charlotte’s life almost by accident. 

Tommy seems to fall for any girl he hasn’t grown up with, Nikki and Charlotte are in agreement that their friendship becoming public knowledge would be social suicide for them both, Vince is a tool, and Eileen is still mad at him for what happened over Summer. 

A/N: 8829 words. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @misscharlottelee this has literally been in the works for what’s felt like a year, but i decided that i can’t keep putting it off forever, so here. part 1. i think im going to try and put these out weekly?? maybe sooner?? but i adore you and i of course absolutely adore @josaphinebaker so i’m glad to finally let you all enjoy the long-awaited, multi-part HS AU (me, not posting writing for months: AND WHAT’S THIS? THE HS AU WITH A STEEL CHAIR --) ft. a softer world quotes

who said life can’t be an adventure? because whoever said that is probably the villain.

There’s a place for everything, and everything has it’s place. That’s they way the world works, at least, that’s the motto the rest of the cheerleading team seems to adhere to almost religiously. Charlotte, who’s been on the team for almost a full year and a half, since the start of her Sophmore year, can’t see the world so black and white. It’s not that she signed up to be a Cheerleader to fulfil some bitchy, blonde stereotype, it’s more that she had free time to fill and thought it would be fun. It took her a few months to find her footing once she’d been offered a place on the team, and was quickly thrust into her school’s the social spotlight, but she managed in the end, and had been managing ever since, mostly.

“Charlie, you’re so lucky,” Tommy, her cousin, lamented to her, driving her home after cheer practice, and marching band, had finished for the day. He was still in his uniform, as was Charlotte, and she gave him a sidelong glance, picking at the nail polish on her thumb. She doesn’t even give him an answer; ever since she’d joined the team, he had felt the need to wax poetic about the other cheerleaders and their uniforms. It’s so familiar that she doesn’t even need to prompt him into mooning over seeing Pamela in the cafeteria that day.

“She’s never going to date you if you don’t talk to her,” Charlotte’s smile is sly as her gaze slides back to the road, and the sun drifting towards the horizon.

“If Pam ever found out I’d looked at her, she’d probably just spit on me, call me pathetic or some shit,” Tommy’s eyeroll is implied by the flatness of his tone, but Charlotte can’t help but laugh.

“Oh Tommy, everyone looks at Pam,” she reminds him, and Tommy lets out an annoyed whine.

“I know,” he groans, clearly not cheered by that fact, feeling ever the more hopeless, and they fall into silence. Charlotte reaches down beside her seat and lifts a lever, pushing the seat back so she could comfortably rest her feet on his dashboard.

“Did you hear someone finally bought the MacCready burger joint? Dad was talking about it yesterday,” Tommy says mildly, making a left-hand turn onto their street. Charlotte raises her eyebrows, intrigued, but doesn’t speak. Tommy knows her well enough to take her silence as an invitation to go on, “Mrs Mac is going into hospice care and apparently some guy bought it and moved into town.”

“Oh shit, poor Mrs Mac,” Charlotte muses, and crosses her ankles on the dash, “hopefully their food is edible now.”

“Their burgers were great!” Tommy protested loudly.

“Their burgers were trash, Tommy! You’re just a rat -!”

“I’m not a rat!” He argues back, pulling into the gas station around the corner from their house. Tommy pulls up beside one of the pumps, and Charlotte gets out to browse the various snacks on offer inside the service station.

“Afternoon, Mick,” Charlotte calls out to the gas station attendant, the guy who’s been working here since he was fourteen, who’s currently got an electrical apprenticeship every other day. Charlotte realizes she might know too much about him considering he barely communicates in grunts most of the time. It’s not that he can’t speak, it’s just that he has a well documented dislike of her over exuberant cousin.

As expected, Mick doesn’t look up from his copy of Rolling Stone behind the counter, but makes a noise of acknowledgement.

Before Tommy has finished filling the tank, an unfamiliar figure enters the gas station, breezing past Charlotte and snatching up a packet of pork rinds, moving to the drinks fridge and taking a can of lemonade. The person is a young woman, though Charlotte doesn’t get a good look at her face; she’s got silky, black hair down to the small of her back, beneath a backwards baseball cap, and she’s the most notable of her clothes are her scuffed, black boots, and her oversized, black denim jacket littered with patches and pins. 

When she puts her items on the counter in front of Mick, she pauses, frowning at the display, and Tommy enters the shop with an oblivious smile, asking if Charlotte had decided on anything.

“Can I help you?” Mick asks flatly, and the girl holds up a single finger, the universal signal for wait, and Mick huffs, but remains quiet. The girl adds a packet of gum to her haul, and leans her elbows on the counter.

“And a pack of Marlboros.”

Mick scowls.

“How old are you?”

“Are you being paid enough to care?” She responds, voice a low, challenging alto, and after a moment of deliberation, Mick actually shrugs, and turns to the cigarette display, picking out a pack for her as she pulled a few bills from her back pocket. After everything’s paid for, and the various food and drink had been stashed in the numerous pockets of her jacket, the girl is quick to open the cigarettes. 

“They’re for my dad,” she explains, taking one out and putting it between her lips, grinning, “mostly.”

She passes a bewildered Tommy and Charlotte on the way out, giving them a flat look over, eyebrow raising minutely at the sight of Charlotte’s cheerleading uniform, but she’s quickly out the door. Tommy, flabbergasted at her display of confidence, marches straight up to counter and leans on it like he’d seen the woman do.

“A pack of -”

“Fuck off,” Mick tells him, before Tommy even finishes his sentence. Charlotte snorts a laugh, approaching the counter with a bottle of diet coke. 

“Fifteen bucks on pump three,” Tommy sighs, pulling out his wallet, “and Charlie’s drink.”

“Do you know her, Mick?” Charlotte asks, still smiling, mind playing over the interaction.

“Do I look like I know her?” Mick grumbles, counting the handful of quarters Tommy had passed him with a ten dollar bill. Tommy, however, has never in his life taken Mick’s constant foul mood to heart, even when he probably should.

“He loves me, secretly, I know he does,” Tommy grinned when they were back in the car, heading to Charlotte’s house to drop her off, “we’ve known each other for five years, we’ll be friends any day now.”

“Tommy, he’s three days away from just decking you when you go to pay.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw me in front of traffic,” Tommy, ever the optimistic dumbass, chooses to look on the bright side. Tommy wears his affection on his sleeve, and seems to find himself trying to befriend anyone who would sooner fight him, if his hero-worship of local punk Nikki Sixx is anything to go by. It’s with a painful clarity that Charlotte realizes if he ever meets the girl from the gas station, he’s going to fall in love with her almost immediately.

Which makes Charlotte’s accidental and secret friendship with Nikki Sixx awkward.

“Oh Miss Lee,” Nikki whistles at her the following morning, wearing a grin that’s all teeth, “you know just what a guy likes to see on a Thursday morning.” He’s leering at her, leaning on the mesh of the fence, fingers hooked into the metal as he presses himself against it, his gaze trained on the pleat of her cheer uniform split upon her thigh over her tights.

“Every time you speak, I consider vehicular homicide,” Charlotte tells him with a sigh, straightening out her skirt, already resigned to the fact the rest of her free period was about to be co-opted. 

“Then I’m glad you can’t drive,” Nikki’s still grinning, throwing his bag over the fence, into the garden Charlotte had thought was peaceful enough to study in.

“It’s the only thing keeping you alive,” she says, plastering a fake, sweet smile on her face, closing her biology textbook as Nikki vaults the fence a few feet away from her. She pulls her jacket a little tighter around herself, in an attempt to ward off the slight chill of the end of semester air.

Never in Charlotte’s life would she have intentionally tried to befriend Nikki Sixx. How was she supposed to know that two of her free periods coincided with when he liked to show up to school? And that the secluded garden area out behind the library where she liked to study in said free periods was the easiest place to sneak in? 

She’s threatened to turn him in more times than he can remember, and he spits back that she should just find a new place to study, but she keeps showing up, and she never turns him in, and by now most of Nikki’s flirting is harmless.

They were both very much of the opinion that having a public friendship would be bad for the both of them; Nikki’s got more than a reputation of his own, both because his name technically isn’t Nikki, but he fights anyone who calls him Frank, and because he’s kind of a slut. Also there’s still an unconfirmed rumour about him being expelled from his first high school back in Seattle, since he’d joined their school a semester in Freshman year. Everyone’s too afraid to ask. Charlotte knows the cheerleaders aren’t above making hell for one of their own if they were caught fraternizing with someone like him. 

That being said, Nikki had made it very clear that he’d rather saw off his arm than admit that they were even acquaintances, scoffing about how he’d lose any and all street cred he’d ever had if his friends found out he was hanging around Miss Everyone’s Best Friend Charlotte Lee. At the time, she’d taken offence to his tone, but she quickly came to learn that that’s just how Nikki is sometimes.

He offers her a cigarette from the pack in his pocket like he always does, sitting opposite her on the picnic bench instead of going to class, his bag still on the grass where he’d thrown it. Like always, Charlotte turns it down, but it does remind her-

“Saw a girl yesterday at Mick’s gas station that reminded me of you,” Charlotte flips to the back page of her notebook, which was already littered with little drawings, and starts scribbling idly.

“She hot?”

“I guess?” Charlotte says after a moment of consideration, “didn’t get to see her long enough to really be able to tell.” Nikki hums thoughtfully, and Charlotte, without looking up, “she asked Mick for cigarettes and he was like ‘how old are you?’ and she was like ‘are you being paid enough to care?’“ 

Nikki takes a long draft from his own cigarette, and kindly turns to the side to blow smoke into the wind, instead of directly into Charlotte’s face, as he used to do, or like he does when he’s annoyed.

“Mick would have mad respect for a move like that,” Nikki snorts, and when Charlotte looks up from her notebook, she sees him looking off into the distance, giving a genuine smile at the mental image. Maybe this is why she puts up with him, these rare genuine moments. He raises the cigarette to his lips again, and looks back at her, eyebrows raised, as if prompting her to go on. Charlotte looks back at her notebook.

“It inspired Tommy to try and buy smokes too, but Mick shut him down fast; I swear, if we show up when he’s clocking off, he’s going to K.O Tommy the first chance he gets.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw him in front of traffic,” Nikki notes, and Charlotte pauses, frowning. She hadn’t realised her hyperbolic threats on Mick’s behalf were a standard unit of measurement for how much he did or didn’t like her cousin. They were bullshit! Why did anyone take them seriously? Charlotte’s often astounded at her own credibility, and how much people tend to take her at her word without question.

“What’s she look like?” Nikki asks, flicking his ash into the grass, bringing Charlotte out of her thoughts.

“Who?”

“The girl from the gas station.”

“Oh,” Charlotte pauses, thinking, finally settling on, “she was wearing heaps of dark shit, had black hair, maybe that’s why I thought of you. I don’t know who she is though, didn’t recognize her from anywhere.” She adds, and Nikki hums thoughtfully, nodding. With his free hand, he snatches her pen out of her grip, despite her yelp of protest, and begins doodling pentagrams on the back cover of her notebook. 

“You free tomorrow night?”

“I’d rather die than date you.”

“Charlie, you’re not my type -”

“Nikki, your type is tits and a heartbeat.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck you, but I’d rather be castrated than date you,” Nikki responds flatly, and Charlotte quickly shuts up, scowling, “but my band has a gig at a place that doesn’t card, so if you and that overgrown Labrador you call a cousin can sneak away from mommy and daddy for the night, you’re more than welcome to come party with the big kids.” He smirked, flicking Charlotte’s pen back at her. Charlotte’s annoyance has simmered down at his offer, considering his words. 

“Nikki Sixx inviting me to see his band,” she mused, sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, mischief glinting in her eyes, “you like me, don’t you? You like Miss Everyone’s Best Friend. Soon I’m going to be your best friend too!” At least she was self aware enough about her people-pleasing tendencies to poke fun at his scorn.

“I like that you’re cousin’s obsessed with me, so bring him too,” Nikki’s quick to correct, but his heart’s not fully in it, if the smile he’s failing to repress is anything to go by, “I’m just in it for the ego trip, sweetheart.”

Charlotte gags at the pet name; the bell rings.

“She smells like an ash tray,” is the first thing Charlotte hears when she sits herself with the rest of the cheer squad at lunch, and she’s terrified for a moment that Heather, the Vice Captain of the squad, is talking about her. Discretely, Charlotte sniffs at her hair, worried that the perfume she’d spritzed to hide any of Nikki’s lingering smoke had worn off quickly. Heather’s not even looking at her, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the other gathered girls.

“Heather, half the people at this school smell like smoke,” Eileen cuts in as the voice of reason, taking a dainty bite of her food to punctuate her point. Heather’s expression sours.

“Yeah, but she’s pretty, why would she smoke?”

“Heather, you smoke,” Eileen rolls her eyes, and Heather sits back, crossing her arms, long, dainty fingers resting on her perfectly tanned and toned biceps.

“Yeah, but at least I have the decency not to smell like the bottom of an ashtray,” Heather raises an eyebrow, as if offering some form of challenge, and Charlotte watches Eileen bite back on a scathing retort, simply offering a withering smile, and continuing on with her lunch, “anyway,” Heather rolls her eyes, and starts up a new conversation with the girls on her other side, who were hanging onto her every word like it was gospel.

It’s quite possible that the tensions between Heather and Eileen may never actually die down, Charlotte considers, fiddling with the plastic-wrapped straw of her juice box. The thing is that Heather had only scored the position of Vice Captain of the cheerleading squad after Eileen, practically a shoe-in after two years on the squad and a pretty impressive acrobatic repertoire, publicly turned down the offer, quit, and joined the swim team the very next day, refusing to give a reason for any of her actions. A vicious joke circled the school about Heather being sloppy seconds, and despite Eileen never actually contributing to the joke in any way, or even acknowledging it, part of Heather still obviously resented her. The fact that Eileen still chose to sit with the cheerleaders despite not being one anymore, might also play into that, like she’s rubbing it in Heather’s face, even though she never would intend to do that.

Charlotte’s known Eileen for what feels like forever, since Summer camp in Grade School, living close enough to maintain a friendship, but not close enough that they were in the same district for Grade or Middle School. Both academically and socially minded young women, they’d found themselves in a number of clubs in those years that brought them face to face at meet or competitions, and thankfully, their local high school drew from a wider range of districts, finally bringing them together as allies, rather than competitors. 

“Who were they talking about?” Charlotte asks quietly, stabbing her straw into her juice box, trying to keep their conversation discrete.

“A girl transferred into our grade -”

“On a Thursday?” Charlotte scoffs a little, “with three weeks left to go before Winter break?” And Eileen makes a noise in the back of her throat, an I know, it’s weird, right? Without saying any actual words. 

“Something Fields; we just had French with her,” Eileen nods to where Heather’s now happily chattering with the other cheerleaders, earlier disagreement seemingly forgotten.

“Something?” Charlotte asked wryly, and Eileen gave her an amused look.

“Madame Laurent’s accent would butcher the name Sally, I’m surprised I managed to understand Fields,” and okay, she has a point, Madame Laurent’s French accent was half the reason any of the students studied the language, if only to understand her, because her English, while technically good, was sometimes incomprehensible. 

“The girl didn’t correct her?”

“Nah, just kept quiet, embarrassed, I think,” Eileen mused, and Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, “though she did sit herself right next to Heather; bold move, I’ll applaud her for that.”

“Bet Heather didn’t like that,” Charlotte snickered quietly, and Eileen’s smile stretched into a full grin.

“She straight up moved the moment the girl put her bag down.”

“The poor girl,” Charlotte shook her head with a sigh, before clarifying, “not Heather, obviously.” Eileen snorted a laugh.

“What’s the new girl like?” Charlotte finds herself asking, intrigued.

“Quiet,” is Eileen’s immediate answer, “couldn’t get a good read on her, but she knows a decent amount of French.” But she deliberates for a moment, “looks kind of mean.” And for the barest moment, Charlotte frowns, mind flashing to the girl she’d seen at the gas station yesterday... it couldn’t be.

“Black hair?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw a girl at the gas station yesterday, black hair, kind of mean looking, Mick didn’t know her,” that was the big tip; Mick seemed to know all the gas station regulars, so she must be new. Eileen catalogued this information in her mind, but had no comment on it beyond a shrug, before reminding Charlotte that they had debate after school, and asking if Tommy would be sticking around to give her a lift home. 

“He will be, he’s got practice until four too,” Charlotte said with a half smile, “and yes, he can give you a lift home too... Will Peach be needing one too?” She asked, referring to Eileen’s younger sister, but Eileen shook her head.

“She’s staying back until five every day this week to finish her science fair project, mom’s happy to pick her up - something about magnets this year - but I don’t want to wait around.”

“Wait, how long until the science fair?” Last year, Eileen, Charlotte, Tommy, and Vince Neil, who they’d still considered something of a friend at the time, had all come to support Peach in both her first year of high school, and her first science fair. Peach had come third, with a rather impressive display about which various household liquids killed plants fastest, and all three had cheered when she’d been given her ribbon, and Tommy and Vince spent the entire ride in the back of Peach and Eileen’s mom’s station wagon ranting about how she should have won, and scheming about how to best put a dead houseplant in their science teacher’s bed, like some low budget, home depot Scarface. Tommy may have become their friends via his place as a constant fixture in Charlotte’s life, and Vince simply because he had grown up as something of her neighbour and Tommy’s close friend, but their loyalty was absolute. Well, almost absolute. Vince was noticeably absent from their current roster of friends however, the then-four of them how vowed to make it a habit, and they could all tell Peach had been touched by the gesture, and Eileen, Charlotte, and Tommy were, at the very least, going to uphold that promise. A small smile plays on Eileen’s face.

“Next Tuesday, she’s so excited.”

if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. but you won’t. 

So according to Eileen, Vince Neil is throwing a party on Saturday, and seeing as Charlotte’s parents still think the world of Vince after he’d been so kind of her after everything happened with her ex at the start of the year, she’s allowed to go. They went to middle school together, though he was always a year younger than her, in Tommy’s grade, and their parents were passive-aggressive PTA friends for a few years there, and, as mentioned before, he’d been genuinely sweet when she was at her lowest. Her parents don’t know that a week and a half into Summer break, right after he’d taken her to prom and promised to key her ex’s car if she asked, he started surfing, starting hanging out at the beach with the rest of the pretty, mean jocks spending their Summer in the sun, and had turned into a vain asshole. Or, well, more of a vain asshole than he already was. 

Vince’s family was well off, and his parties were legendary, which is what made her parents agreeing to let her go so strange. 

What they didn’t, and would never agree to, was letting her go to Nikki’s gig, so she didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, she asked to spend the weekend with Tommy and Athena. Her mother calls to confirm that that would be okay, Charlotte packs a duffle bag with outfits for the weekend, and her mother reminds her to take care of herself at the party the following night, kissing her on both cheeks when Tommy turns up in his beat up Vista Cruiser. 

“Why are you hanging out with us tonight?” Tommy asks, frowning, still in the clothes he’d worn to school. Charlotte’s grip tightens on her duffle bag.

“Because we’re going out tonight.”

Immediately, Tommy’s posture straightens, and his expression lights up; he was delightfully easy to excite. Suddenly he was brimming with questions as he drove, fighting to keep his eyes on the road, and Charlotte let herself relax a little, glad to see he was onboard.

“Nikki Sixx’s band -”

“- is playing tonight!” Tommy finishes her sentence, his voice breaking on the last word out of excitement, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t comment, and it doesn’t stop Tommy’s eyes from sparkling, “he wrote it in sharpie in pretty much every bathroom in the school; you want to go?” Yeah, that sounds about par for the course for Nikki Sixx’s brand of advertising.

“You’re half in love with the guy,” Charlotte ignored Tommy’s spluttered protests, “so I wanna see what the hype is about,” she lied easily. She wasn’t a fan of lying to Tommy, he deserved better than that, but he also might crash if he knows that Nikki had personally invited them.

Tommy begs his mom to let them go, promising to be safe and be back by midnight, and the moment Charlotte vouches for him, his mother’s concern melts into agreement, and Athena complains that she’s never allowed to go anywhere. Tommy sticks his tongue out at her, and she kicks him in the shins, scowling, until Charlotte asks her to help her get ready, and Athena brightens considerably. 

“Charlie you look like a badass!” Tommy delights when he steps out of the bathroom, hair all teased up, eyeliner expertly applied his waterline, wearing an outrageous outfit. He was going to fit in easily. 

“Holy shit, dude, so do you -”

“Tommy! That’s my shirt!” Athena accused, storming over to him, trying to pull the tight, black tank top with the hot pink diamante lightning bolt off of him, despite his jacket over it, while he tried to slap her away.

“It looks better on me!” Tommy snapped, escaping her grasp and trying to hide in the bathroom. 

“Dude, she’s thirteen, give her the shirt back, you can borrow one of mine,” Charlotte sighed, standing back from it all. 

“Never!”

His mother called out if everything’s okay, and while Athena yelled that Tommy was stealing from her, Charlotte called back that she’d take care of it.

“Charlie, please,” Athena sulked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, while Tommy told his sister to piss off. Charlotte sighed, before giving the young girl an evaluative look.

“Would you let him wear it for five bucks?” 

Athena squinted at her, seriously considering the offer; if Tommy had made it, there would be no way she would have accepted, but she knew Charlotte was good for it. 

“Fine, but if he stretches it, I’m telling mom about his stash of Playboys,” she threatened, to which both Tommy and Charlotte made noises of surprise, Charlotte because she hadn’t known about that, and Tommy because he clearly didn’t think Athena knew about it either. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tommy hisses, wrenching the door open. Athena turns arms crossed, smile smug, and gives him her best try me look. Tommy wrinkles his nose, but stalks into his room, grabbing a five ones from his wallet and giving them to Athena, who Charlotte had never seen so pleased before.

“I hate her,” Tommy seethed, and Charlotte petted his shoulder in solidarity.

“I know,” and then, “aren’t you going to be cold?” 

“I’ve got another jacket.”

The pub, Kings’ Hotel, sits on the border between suburbia and the CBD, and Charlotte’s been past it a million times, has spent a considerable amount of time idly staring out the window of MacCready’s Diner across the road, but never actually been inside. Speaking of MacCready’s, there’s a ton of scaffolding around it that Charlotte definitely doesn’t remember, and the sign’s been taken down, so it appears Tommy’s gossip about it being under new management was true. 

There’s no bouncer, but high schoolers and music were already spilling from the building by the time Charlotte and Tommy showed up. The music is decent, if a little heavy, but Charlotte knows she could definitely get into it if she wanted to. When she approaches the building, she notices a gaggle of vaguely recognizable people all in a cluster, huddle together while they smoked to keep warm in the cold night air. 

“Hi Heather,” Tommy calls out to one, putting on his most winning smile, and when Charlotte gets a proper look, yeah she can see Heather with her hair sprayed up and lipstick shiny, give her cousin a sceptical look. She does, however, notice Charlotte, and her expression shifts to something faux sweet and coy, a show of being amicable to someone obviously associated with a fellow cheerleader, and she gives them both a wave.

“I thought you had a thing for Pam,” Charlotte asks quietly as they push their way into the pub.

“Charlie, I’m into any and every cheerleader I’m not related to, why should I deprive any of the other lovely young ladies by only focusing on one girl?”

“Gross,” was Charlotte’s only comment. Tommy ignored her. 

It was kind of overwhelming at first, between the loud music, the crush of people she half-knew, the fact that the bartender didn’t even blink when Tommy ordered a beer, or the fact that Nikki Sixx was on stage in skin tight leather pants, playing bass like it was his God given mission in life.

Her ex and his best friend had also been kind of obsessed with Nikki and his band, and she was coming to understand the hype. Between the swirling lights, the people on the dancefloor, and the heat of the crowd, it was almost hypnotizing to be a part of.

“You should get a drink,” Tommy urges, and Charlotte hesitates. She’s had spiked punch before, half a glass of wine at a family get together when her mom had been tipsy and feeling indulgent, and a couple of sips of beer that her ex had offered her when they’d gone to parties together, but she’d never really...

“I don’t know what to order,” she admits, hesitant, but still raising her voice over the music. Tommy offers her his beer to taste, but Charlotte was already well aware of the fact that beer tasted like piss, and she turns him down. She tries to think back to what people order in TV shows and movies, and tentatively approaches the bar.

“Could I get a jack and coke?” She asks, just thankful that her voice doesn’t shake. The bartender looks her up and down, checking her out without a hint of subtlety, and Charlotte fights the urge to pull her jacket tighter around herself.

“Of course, honey, that’ll be five-fifty,” the bartender smirks, and Charlotte gives an uncertain smile back, thanking him and passing over a ten dollar note. He gives her a five change, along with her drink and a wink. Gross.

“What’d you get?” Tommy asks, when she finds him again, standing against the opposite wall, already halfway through his drink. Charlotte’s holding hers in her fingertips, nervous, taking a sip and scrunching up her whole face at the taste.

“Jack and coke,” she hisses as the alcohol burns. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up at her bold choice, and asks if he can try it. She offers it easily, and he too makes a face as he drinks, but pretends like it’s great. 

They see more people they recognize, people confused but glad to see them out. They’re almost immediately accosted by Keanu, yet another face Charlotte hadn’t been expecting to see, and he wraps them both up in a hug; he’s all dark hair and wide, easy smiles, somehow everyone’s friend in a way that’s so different from how Charlotte seems to be everybody’s friend, but he and Tommy get on like a house on fire. There’s a resilience they both seem to have, and a shared enthusiasm, despite the fact that Keanu was a Senior, a year above Charlotte, and a full two above Tommy, but his good nature seemed to override these boundaries; the moment Tommy mentions he’d been thinking of heading to the dancefloor, Keanu’s more than happy to join him.

Immediately Tommy gulps down the last mouthful and beer and the pair of boys see fit to start cutting shapes on the dance floor with wild abandon, and so Charlotte finds herself at a table at the back of the room with Heather, a few other cheerleaders and their boyfriends, and surprisingly, Vince. He’s in white leather pants, and they look cool as hell, but also it’s Vince, and Charlotte’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Charlotte Lee, you’re looking fine tonight,” Vince slide into the space beside her, and Charlotte doesn’t roll her eyes, or make a comment about how he looks like a greasy snowman, no matter how much she wants to.

“Surprised to see you here, Vince, where’s all your popular little surfer pals?” She asks sweetly, and Vince raises his eyebrows at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue.

“I forgot you two knew each other,” Heather says, and she pauses, clearly deliberating, something dangerous in her eyes, “didn’t you used to date?”

“No,” Charlotte blurts quickly, though Vince is just as quick to deny it, “we’re friends- we were friends; not anymore. We went to prom together, yes, but we never dated.” She clarifies quickly, body language all tight and uncomfortable, which manages to go all the way over Vince’s head, and his hand comes to rest on his heart, expression reading betrayal.

“How long have been known each other, Charlie, for you to say we’re not even friends -”

And maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the alcohol, but Charlotte snapped.

“We were friends for years, Vinny, then six months ago you decided to spend all your time with a bunch of tools and bragged about taking me to prom because I was a cheerleader, and also - oh yeah, remember this? - made one of your best friends cry,” Charlotte hissed venomously, shoulders still tense, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Vince scowled.

“Peach wasn’t-” the words spill from him automatically, but there’s a flicker of something that may just be shame in his eyes, so he drops his gaze and starts again; “my friends are not tools -”

“The Vince who was my friend wouldn’t skip school three days a week to get high and fuck on the beach!” 

“It sounds like you two have a lot to work out...” Heather seems genuinely surprised, and while she’d been fishing for gossip, this was too much, and she graciously backed out of the conversation, pulling one of her friends over to the bar. Charlotte was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the bar, how sweaty and oppressive it all felt.

“People can fucking change, Charlotte,” Vince scowled.

“You didn’t change for the better, Vince, whatever the opposite of character growth is, it’s what happened to you.” Charlotte spat, and turned on her heel before he can respond. She didn’t want to stand on the side side of the road out the front, so she heads for the door labelled Beer Garden, and steps into the cool night air. 

Once outside, she realises how quiet it is, and when she sees Nikki Sixx at one of the tables with a blonde girl giggling in his lap, she comes to the conclusion that the band must be on break. The Beer Garden is mostly populated by smokers, the people around Nikki being the cool, intimidating, stoner punk rockers that she’d figured would be here, but that she can’t bring herself to approach. It’s nice to take a moment to be alone, she finds, breathing in the crisp night air, head feeling clearer for it, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Vince is a fucking tool. He’d made Peach cry the week they got back to school, and Charlotte had vowed to never forgive him for it. 

After a few minutes, Charlotte takes the time to really look at the people milling around, wondering if she actually recognised anyone. Much to her surprise, in the back corner of the courtyard area, she did. 

Side by side, Mick from the gas station, and the mysterious girl who’d bought cigarettes from him, sitting on the edge of a planter full of dead shrubs, both smoking, neither speaking, reading one magazine between the two of them.

Charlotte’s not quite sure who’s more likely to stab her, between Mick and the girl, and Nikki’s band of misfits, but she hedges her bets and heads to the pair at the back.

“Having a good night, Mick?” Charlotte asks tentatively, before giving pause. They’re reading a ratty old copy of Hustler. Mick looks up, and lets go of his side of the magazine, letting the girl take it, to keep flipping idly through.

“The band’s okay,” Mick muses, and seems to realise that his cigarette has gone out when he tries to take a drag on it, and he pulls out a lighter and relights it, “how’s your night been?”

“It’s been alright, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Charlotte gives an awkward laugh, looking to the magazine, which Mick seems to either have forgotten about, or not realise that he’s reading porn in public, but finally the girl looks up.

“Someone cut out all the tits,” she’s got an accent Charlotte hadn’t noticed back at the gas station, and still can’t quite place, but that’s not the part she focuses on.

“What?” 

The girl flips the magazine around to show a Farrah Fawcett look-alike posing suggestively, with her entire torso cut from the magazine, just leaving a hole where the cologne ad on the next page can be seen. 

“Found it on the side of the road on the way here,” Mick says, like it suffices for an entire explanation. Instead of elaborating, he offers Charlotte a cigarette.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” an awkward silence follows, Charlotte with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while the girl close the magazine with a resounding slap and threw it over her shoulder into the dead shrubs, “I’m Charlotte.” Charlotte offers her hand. The girl looks at it, then to Charlotte’s face.

“From the gas station, the cheerleader” she says, tone unreadable, giving Charlotte a scrutinizing look, like she’s waiting for the blonde to shirk under it’s intensity. Charlotte doesn’t back down, and the girl finally gives her a firm handshake, “Lola.”

Silence followers, chatter filters over from the various other groups, Nikki’s laugh, loud and clear, above the rest. Neither Mick nor Lola makes room for Charlotte, so she sways idly from side to side, people watching the rest of the courtyard.

“Didn’t pick you for this type of scene,” Mick muses finally, crossing his ankles and fixing Charlotte with a strangely neutral expression, cigarette almost burned down to the butt where it’s poised between his lips, “that over-eager cousin of yours, sure, but this doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

“Oh, Tommy is here,” Charlotte’s quick to clarify, looking around as if he were about to jump out of the bushes and irritate the rarely amicable Mick, “but, I don’t know,” she shrugged like coming out tonight wasn’t her idea, “I’m more than happy to give anything a go at least once; people at my school are kind of weirdly obsessed with the bass player, so I guess I wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Mick finished his cigarette as he considered her words, giving a pensive look to the bass player himself, still surrounded by a gaggle of fans, and eventually stubbed the last of the ash out against the edge of the planter he was sitting on, letting the butt fall, crumpled, to the ground. 

“He’s the only one with any ounce of talent,” voice gruff, Mick’s approval comes as a surprise to both Charlotte, who’s eyes go wide at the statement, and Lola, who barks an unexpected laugh, that ends with her choking on the smoke in her lungs. Mick thumps her on the back, and she roughly when her breathing clears, tears watering in her eyes. 

“Whoever writes their songs is half decent,” Lola points out, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, after which she dropped her own mostly burnt-out cigarette, crushing it under the heel of her boot. Yes, she has a point, but Charlotte’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Can I ask...?” At her tentative tone, Lola immediately tenses, growing defensive, “are you Lola Fields?”

“Why?” Lola immediately snaps, and Charlotte raises her hands in surrender. Mick’s arms are crossed, looking with interest between the two girls.

“I think you go to my school,” Charlotte quickly clarifies, but Lola’s scowl deepens, as if wondering how she knew that, “do you take AP French with a tall, ginger girl?”

“I don’t really know who else is in the class,” Lola slowly tells her, but it’s not a no, which is all that matters. Charlotte nods, but doesn’t press the subject, “it’s weird that you know that much about me.” Lola adds.

“It’s barely anything,” Charlotte points out, baffled at the sudden defensiveness. 

“You know my last name and that I do AP French,” Lola says, and her gaze shifts from Charlotte to the gaggle of fans surrounding Nikki, as they all started to head inside.

“Well,” Charlotte doesn’t let her resolve falter, smiling, “my name’s Charlotte Lee, and --”

“Oi, Cheerleader, you coming inside? We’ve got another set to go!” Nikki Sixx’s voice rings out through the courtyard area, and Charlotte visibly cringes at the sound of it, turning slowly on her heel, still wincing when she faces him. 

And yes, he was talking to her, his hands are still cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, a tunnel showing off his smug and toothy grin. She hadn’t realised he’d even noticed her, but he had, and he needed her to know he had.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she calls back, irritated. Nikki lowers his hands, and even from this distance she can see him raising his eyebrows.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” He leaves the because I invited to you as an implication only she would hear, knowing she would hear it nonetheless. Charlotte sighs deeply, shoulders sagging with resignation, and Nikki, feeling as though he’d won, turns sharply on his heel and marches inside.

“I hate him,” Charlotte groaned.

“You know him?” Mick seems rather surprised, enough that the emotion could be heard in his voice. Charlotte turns back, not quite sure what to expect when she faced them. Mick is watching Charlotte with actual interest. Lola was watching the spot where Nikki had been, expression carefully blank.

“He’s a pain,” Charlotte says, defeated, and Lola’s gaze flicks to her, expression turning amused, but before she can get a word in -

“There you are!” The door to the now mostly-empty beer garden bursts open, and Tommy makes himself known. He’s left Keanu somewhere inside, apparently, now that he was on the hunt for his cousin. Mick sighs so heavily that it’s all he can do to lean back into the planter, arms crossed over his chest like a vampire, as if the very sight of the kid exhausts him. From this position, the packet of cigarettes in his pocket is exposed, and Lola steals one.

“I’ll owe you,” is all she says, as Tommy approaches, in less of a beeline, and more of an unsteady wave, more than a little tipsy. Christ, his mom is gonna kill them both.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” his wide eyes betrayed his concern, despite his current state, but his concern turns to joy, upon seeing her company, “hi, Mick!” Mick does not answer, laying with his eyes closed, in the shrubs. 

“He’s dead,” Lola supplies without missing a beat, pulling out her lighter and lighting the stolen cigarette, and Tommy’s expression falls.

“We should help him -”

“I can help him, don’t worry,” Lola assures, with faux seriousness, before her tone shifts to something light, easily distracting the tipsy boy, “you were in the gas station the other day with this one, weren’t you?” She gestures with her lighter towards Charlotte; Tommy looks to his cousin before looking to Lola.

“I- yeah, oh, shit, you’re- hi,” suddenly flustered as he finally remembered where he knew her from, he offers his hand, “Tommy.”

“Lola,” there’s a new edge to her smile, sparkling in her eyes as she taking in Tommy and his whole look, which has something strangely protective flare up in Charlotte’s chest. But then Lola catches the slight frown on Charlotte’s face, and it’s like she knows exactly what she’s thinking, because she lets go of Tommy’s hand and her expression betrays on the faintest hint of amusement. 

“Lola,” Tommy nods very seriously, as if committing the name to his memory in his current state was quite the task, but he persisted nonetheless. After a moment, however, he seemed to remember his original mission, “Vince thought you’d headed home -”

“Fuck Vince,” Charlotte spits automatically, venomously, a knee-jerk response, and Tommy’s stunned into silence. 

“Do you want to go home?” Tommy’s far too earnest and concerned for his current state, and Charlotte feels momentarily guilty for her outburst, hanging her head and letting herself breathe for a moment.

“No, the music’s good, we just got into a fight -”

“You guys used to actually be good friends,” Tommy hesitates, confused, and Charlotte gives him a rueful smile when she looks back at him.

“Then he decided that being nice to the people who have been friends with him for years was lame.”

“He’s nice to me,” Tommy says, sounding a little put out, and Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms.

“And he’s still nice to me, doesn’t mean he’s not a tool; I’m a cheerleader, and you’re a guy, of course he’s still going to be nice to us.”

Tommy still doesn’t get it, but Charlotte decides to head back into the pub with him, throwing over her shoulder that it was nice to meet Lola. She could almost swear she heard a muttered ‘fuckin’ teenagers’ from Mick, all of nineteen years old himself, which just has Charlotte rolling her eyes. Mick taps Lola’s arm when Charlotte glances over her shoulder, while the rest of him still lays flat in the dirt, and Lola passes him the cigarette obligingly, crossing one leg over the other and smirking at him.

it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty. i am gonna drink it through this crazy straw!

“Vince is on the warpath,” Eileen’s always been able to remain composed while unreasonably drunk better than any person Charlotte’s ever known, and the following night, while Vince’s house party rages around them in the living room of his house, is no exception. She won’t say how many vodka sodas she’s had, or who supplied her with the vodka, but the way she was unable to suppress the amused twist of her lips was a dead giveaway that she was a little more than tipsy.

“Oh?” Charlotte’s eyes were roaming from face to face at the party, never sticking to just one, hands clutching a red solo cup full of cheap wine.

“Someone told him the person who keyed his car was here,” Eileen’s close to laughter, and Charlotte’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Does he -”

“No,” Eileen shakes her head, taking another delicate sip of her own drink, “he thinks it’s one of Duff’s friends.” She says, before her eyes going wide, and she slaps her free hand over her mouth - “sorry.” Charlotte, who’s too tipsy to care about the mention of her ex, is more confused than anything else.

“Because of me?” She actually snorts, skeptical, “as if Duff or any of his friends cared about who took me to prom after everything happened, enough to key Vince’s car.” It’s been long enough now that she can laugh at it, and the warped logic of it all, knowing full well that the girl sitting beside her was the real vandal of Vince’s shiny, red car. 

“Can you believe Vince asked me to invite Peach? After all that shit he pulled on her after Summer? I almost clocked him in the middle of the carpark!” Eileen’s movements were relaxed and uncomplicated, so unlike her usual demeanour, so easy-going, so honest, sometimes drunk-Eileen’s openness caught Charlotte by surprise, “told him to invite her himself if he wanted her there so bad.”

“I’m in awe of your restraint,” Charlotte mused, leaning into Eileen, letting her eyes fall closed in an attempt to keep the room from spinning in her vision, “he’s such an ass; I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“The nerve on him, acting like he’s too good to be seen with her because he’s got new friends,” Eileen shook her head, wrapping her free arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, securing her, still people watching, “I should have keyed him,” for a moment, she hiccups, and when Charlotte cracks her eye open for a moment to guage her friend’s current state, she sees Eileen glaring into her mostly-empty cup. 

“I’m still deciding if I should pee on something he cares about,” Eileen says, tone so serious that Charlotte can’t help but dissolve into giggles.

“What?”

“‘s why I’m here,” Eileen was so earnest in her declaration that Charlotte was a little nervous, if only because drunk-Eileen would absolutely do something as undignified as pee on something of Vince’s in an act of revenge.

“Would you key Duff’s car for me?” Charlotte asked to change the topic, all soft and teasing, and she can hear rare, unrestrained the smile in Eileen’s voice when she assured Charlotte she would in a heartbeat, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Despite it still being early in the night, Charlotte knew that if she seemed drunk when she got back to Tommy’s house, her Aunt would tell her mom, and that’s the exact opposite of what she needs. Tommy can get legless if he wants, he only has to face the wrath of his weirdly supportive parents; if Charlotte comes home obviously drunk, she won’t be allowed out of the house until college. So she decides to get water.

There’s bodies everywhere, and Charlotte’s struggling to move through them, even with Eileen guiding her to the kitchen.

Charlotte’s been in and around this house so many times, it should be second nature to her; she and Tommy had spent what felt like half their childhoods in this house, within it’s pristine, white walls, and expensive, leather furniture, playing pretend trying to imagine what their future would turn out to be. None of them would have pictured this, of Charlotte, of Charlotte hating Vince and still stumbling, drunk through his house, nor had they seen Vince, playing pretend with popularity, tossing them all aside for a set of conceited fair-weather friends. Tommy’s never been able to predict his own future, too willing to go with the flow to be too certain of anything. 

Away from the living room, and the record player, the music is muffled, and the chatter is quieter, as people are here for drinks, or snacks, while most were choosing to dance in the crush in the living room, or making regrettable, teenage decision upstairs. 

Eileen tops up her drink with obviously spiked punch. Half vodka and soda, half spiked fruit punch. Gross. Charlotte looks on in disgust as she sips water, and Eileen acts like there’s no difference between taste, but she interrupts her own performance of stoicism when her eyes widen.

“Fields.”

“What?” Charlotte asks, confused as all hell, following Eileen’s gaze to where the kitchen opens up onto the patio, only to see Lola, in a full face of makeup, hair sprayed to high heavens, wearing all sorts of black, ripped, mesh and denim layers, looking like an intimidating cross between glam rock and crust punk. She was straddling someone’s lap, looking at them intently, what looked to be a black, eyeliner pencil in her hand.

“That’s the girl from my French class,” Eileen sounds a little surprised to see her, and Charlotte smiles a little.

“Her name’s Lola -” but her mouth drops open when Lola, in the dim light spilling from the kitchen, leans in and kisses whoever she’s sitting on. After a beat, both Charlotte and Eileen burst in fits of unsubtle laughter, not having anticipated this turn of events. They’re holding each other for support in their drunken amusement, laughing like this is somehow the funniest thing they’ve ever encountered, thankfully aware enough to set aside their cups. 

“I- we’re intruding right? This is- we should leave-” they’re not even the only ones in the kitchen when Charlotte says this, gasping for breaths between her laughs, but they seem to be the only ones who have noticed what’s happening, or at least the only ones who halfway care.

Until there comes a shout of ‘yeah, get some, Tommy!’ from the bonfire about thirty yards from the patio, and Charlotte very clearly and distinctly thinks ‘oh no’.

Vince is silhouetted by the fire, bleach blonde hair catching the light, but Charlotte can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, Vince!” Lola’s partner, who is now unmistakably Tommy, calls back, flustered, as Lola hides her grin against his shoulder. Vince and his cronies, none of whom Charlotte knows by name, jeer in response. Then Lola’s leaning back and saying something that Charlotte doesn’t catch, but suddenly Tommy looks inside, his expression turning from flustered and pleased to horrified as his gaze locks with Charlotte’s and they both know that she knows.

Eileen is wheezing with laughter beside her.

Charlotte sees Tommy’s now lipstick-stained mouth mutter ‘shit’. Lola follows his gaze, and waves awkwardly at Charlotte. Charlotte also mutters ‘shit’.

Charlotte tips out her water and gets herself another cup of wine from the back of Vince’s refrigerator. A lot has happened in thirty seconds, she thinks she deserves one more drink for the night.

[dayseternal-blog]

i think im running out of naruhina fluff/smut. T-T. Can you help me out? hihi

 🔍

you think you can hide behind anonymous 🧐  I’m quite certain I know who this is haha 😘

And for you, dearest anon, have three completely unfinished, barely started wips (EVIL CACKLES BECAUSE THESE GO NOWHERE)

But actually, if any of these one-shot ideas catch your interest, please let me know and maybe I’ll actually try to finish one of them?

Smutty Soulmate AU, where you meet your soulmate in your dreams each night upon turning 20.

When her alarm jars her from sleep, she’s always only left with a feeling and flashes of color.  Today...she desperately tries to focus, to reach back, to remember…

Excitement.  Red.  Dark.

Her heart beats faster for reasons unknown to her, and there’s no point in trying any harder to slide the experiences of the soul into her brain.  After pointless meditation sessions, longer naps, and all manners of effort with dream diaries and online tips, she’s been resigned to the fact that only her other half can unlock that translation of dreams to memories.  She has yet to meet her soulmate in person.

Ever since her 20th birthday a few months ago, since that nerve wracking night of meeting her soulmate for the first time, going out has been a secret manhunt.  Eyes peeled to every single passersby over the age of 20.  Any one of them could be the person she’s spent the last 200 or so nights with.

So she dresses carefully for a day out with Sakura, Tenten, and Ino.  They’ll be going to the restaurant where Sakura’s fiance works his part-time job.  For all she knows, her soulmate might be there, too.

A guy?  A girl?  Her age?  Much older?  She has no idea what she’ll say to her soulmate, either.  But she imagines that when she sees them, it’ll be like a homecoming.  Planning is unnecessary, right?  When it’s someone you actually see every night?  If they didn’t like her, she can’t imagine why she would wake up every morning with so much residual happiness and longing.

-------------------------------------THAT’S IT @bunny-hoodlum

Ghost-Hunting (Obake Hunt) Comedy Modern AU, Naruto & co. visit a college at night for some scares that take an unexpected turn...

A shadowed driveway leads up the mountain toward the private college.

“Is this it?” Sasuke asks, peering out the car window.

“Yeah, turn here,” Ino instructs.  

“Okay, but why is the place even open at this time of night,” Sakura states, arms crossed with a skeptical expression as Sasuke drives the minivan through the gates, up the grand driveway.  The dorms for the college were built at a separate location down the main thoroughfare.

Ino shrugs.  “They have all kinds of events that go on at night.  I don’t know.”

“At least we know we’re not trespassing if the school’s open.”  Hinata’s soft voice comes over the back seat.  

“I still can’t believe we actually talked you into coming with us!” Ino teases.

Sakura laughs, “We’re having a bad influence on her!”

Hinata shakes her head.  “Actually, I’m amazed that Naruto-kun is here,” she shyly replies.

Sasuke lets out a quiet laugh.  “Doesn’t mean he won’t shit himself if we find a ghost.” 

“Okay!, no!, I won’t shit myself, alright?” he immediately defends.  “...I might just scream a little, but I won’t poop my pants…”  He’s already in a protective stance, arms crossed, back hunched a little.  

Everyone laughs at him, but Hinata takes his hand, smiling half-amusedly, half to comfort him.  “I’ll protect you, Naruto-kun.”

That only makes everyone laugh harder as Naruto sinks into himself in embarrassment.

Despite Ino’s school being open, the parking lot is somewhat empty save for a few cars.  The buildings are magnificent in design, echoing back to an era when arched entryways and stucco were favored over walls of glass.  The hum of cicadas pierce through the still, late summer air.  

The small group of friends silently follow Ino back toward the driveway of the school with only yellowed street lamps lighting the dark sidewalks.  They cross into the street, stopping right in the middle at the fancy traffic meridian.  It’s an odd decorative aspect of the driveway they passed on the way up.  It’s right in the middle of the street, separating the in and out lanes, somewhat built-up and rounded with a grassy patch and flowering bushes planted high on top.  It really only serves to make the school look expensive.

Ino smiles, then whispers, “Put your hand here on the wall.”

“Why?” Sakura asks, also in a whisper.  

“Just feel it.”  

They do, all of them placing their hands on the wall, waiting for something to happen.

“You see how the plaster is kind of rough over there?” she asks.

They nod, their fingers dragging over the rushed job.

“...This is an ancient burial ground,” Ino explains in a hushed tone.

Their hands spring off of the wall, their fingers wide in stress at what they were just touching.

“Ino, what the fuck?!” Naruto hisses, barely containing his volume, his legs already carrying him away from the meridian and onto the side of the street. 

Sakura stares at her hand wide-eyed.  “Oh my gosh, we’re all cursed,” she laments.  She can practically feel the spiritual energy twisting around her fingers. 

Ino snickers.  “That’s what my course major senpais did to me.”

Sasuke and Hinata are silently trailing after Naruto with abject horror on their faces.  Hinata fists her hand uncomfortably against her skirt.  

Once they’re all gathered safely away from the meridian, Ino continues to explain.  “When they were constructing, they found the remains of the ancient natives.”

“So they just built that random thing in the middle of the street to house the bones and then continued on their merry way?” Naruto asks for clarification.

Ino nods.  “After they found them, they built that wall around the burial ground, and apparently they were in a hurry to cover it back up.  They just made the driveway go around it.”

They stand there, staring at the burial ground, picturing the bones just on the other side of the wall they touched, below the grass and bushes.  

“Did you have to make us touch it, though,” Hinata asks, regretfully, with a really sad frown.

“The spirits of the ancient warriors are going to find me and kill me in the dead of the night,” Naruto states, as if it’s already fact.

Ino brushes his paranoia off.  “We’ll, I’m still here, aren’t I?”  

“Note to all of us--don’t do anything Ino tells us to do,” Sasuke says.

Ino gives him a very evil smile.  “That’s not all there is to this place.”

“Why...why am I doing this…” Naruto asks to no one in particular.

She leads them deeper into the center of the school, where a large tree spreads its thick limbs over a beautiful cobbled courtyard.  A simple fountain beneath the tree spouts water, and pennies shine beneath the surface of the circular pool.  The gurgle of the water as it falls is relaxing, serene in the quiet of the night.

“Wow, this is nice,” Sakura says, looking around at the manicured gardens surrounding the courtyard.  

Ino nods.  “A girl hung herself here.”

They turn their attention to the blonde.  Suddenly, the peace of the courtyard feels like an ill omen.

She tilts her head at the large tree.  “They say that when this used to be a mental hospital, a girl got away from her caretakers.  She was found hanging from this tree.”  

They frown at the branches, wondering which one the girl chose.

Ino gestures to steps that lead to an academic building.  “They said that at night, you could see her ghost walking and talking to herself in the corridors, always bringing herself to this tree.  Someone suggested to the school that they build this fountain here to give rest to her spirit.”

“So no one sees her ghost anymore?” Sakura asks. 

Ino shrugs.  “I guess we’ll find out…”

“What?”  Naruto scrunches a face of distaste.

“Let’s go,” Ino invites.  

“Go where…” he whines quietly.

Ino takes the disturbed group down the steps to the building.  “Hm, I wonder if it’s open…”  She pulls the handle.

The door opens.

“Whyyyy is it open…” Naruto groans.

“But actually, though, why,” Sakura states.

“Maybe the teachers are still here?” Hinata suggests.

Ino laughs.  “Psh, what college professor cares that much about their job?”  She holds the door open, inviting them into the building.  “Welcome to the language arts hall.”  

The corridor lights are all on, assuring them that the building is, indeed, open.

They enter the hallway.  Naruto lags behind.  When the door shuts, he opens it again.  “I’m just making sure…”  He tests the handle a couple more times before closing it.  Then he tests it once more for good measure.

“You satisfied?” Sasuke asks.

“I’m just making sure,” he repeats.  

Hinata frowns, imagining the door locking them in while they’re inside the building.  

Naruto’s paranoia is only making things worse.

Ino starts ahead of them, and Naruto has to rush to catch up.  “Wait for me!”

“SHHHH!!” Sakura scolds, finger to her lips.

They stand there, noticing how her shush seems to echo in the hallway.

“This place is really creepy,” Hinata comments quietly.

Ino shrugs.  “Only at night.  I had classes in this building in my first year.” 

“So this place used to be part of the mental hospital?” Sasuke asks.  

“Yeah,” Ino affirms.  She brings them to a classroom.  “You see how there’s this little window that you can use to look inside?”  

They nod, taking turns peeking into one of the dark classrooms.  It’s a normal room with normal desks.

“All of the rooms have this hallway window, you see?  It was so that the nurses could check on the patients.”

“Oh gods,” Naruto mutters.

-------------------------------------THAT’S IT

College Ballet AU, Naruto sees a different side of his quietly reserved friend.

It wasn’t a trick. 

Winter had dragged its sharp claws across the ground as long as it could, but finally, finally, three seasonal false-starts and numerous wilted, early-blooming daffodils later, 

Spring had finally decided to stay for good.

Trees bloomed pastel pinks instead of icy white.  New hopefuls popped out of the wet dirt, ready to face the sun.  Birds were suddenly a real thing again.  

Students strolled across the college campus in shorts and light sweaters, eager to shed the winter coats they had worn for six straight months.

And most importantly…

“The forecast is in the high 50s all week!” Ino announced as she pranced into the room, swinging her dance bag to the floor.

“Oh!!  Remember last spring we had class outside?” Sakura asked, turning her attention to their ballet instructor.

“Can we have class outside, Kurenai?” Ino pleaded, eyes wide in hope.

“Hm, the weather is nice today.  I suppose it is a shame to stay indoors on an afternoon like this,” she considered aloud.

Hinata listened with alarm.  She had never danced outside before, never in her 14 years of dancing.  Yes, she had danced on stage before, had performed in front of many strangers before, but still...  Everyone will see us, she worried.  

“I didn’t bring my speakers today, though,” Kurenai continued.

Before Hinata could feel any relief, Tenten pulled out her tech from her bag.  “You can bluetooth your phone to mine!”  

“Awesome, Tenten!” Sakura exclaimed.

“Oh, please, Kurenai?  Can we have class outside?” the other girls begged.

Hinata already knew her fate.  She was going to have to wear her body-conforming leotard and tights in front of the entire student body.  Nevermind the fact that the last time she had gone barefoot on grass was in elementary school.

They all picked up their belongings and made the quick trip to the center lawn.

As she predicted, many students who were already finished with their classes for the day were enjoying the afternoon weather, laying out in the grass reading or playing frisbee.  

And here they were, in their leotards and tights, about to have their whole ballet practice for all to see.  

“There’s so many people,” she whispered in embarrassment to Sakura.  

The pinkette looked at Hinata in confusion, then sympathy.  “Don’t worry.  Just relax and enjoy the sunshine!  It’s a lot of fun to dance outside.  It feels like…”  Sakura glanced up in thought.  “...Like freedom.  Or like...nature!”

Hinata took a deep breath and nodded.  She slipped off her sandals and lined up with everyone to begin their barre exercises...without a barre.  She spread her toes open to first position and settled her arms and hands into en bas.  

Already she could see curious onlookers watching them, and she could only thank the god above that they were having class in a corner of the field, and not front and center.  

Kurenai glanced over her dancers, noting their prepared positions.  She rattled off the instructions for their plie routine before setting up the speaker and scrolling through her phone’s music menu.

Familiar piano music rose into the air.  

More students glanced around.

Hinata tried not to think that all of their eyes were on her.  Because she knew, logically, that they weren’t all watching only her, but her heart just hadn’t been prepared for this sudden public display.

Eventually, with the right side completed and the combination repeated on the left side, Hinata began to feel less tense.

The students lazing on the lawn returned to their own devices, and only passersby watched as they headed to their destinations.  

She fell into the muscle memory of the exercises, and her focus turned inward on the flow of her arms with the music, of the dart of her toes with the beat, and the alignment of her body.  

It was like Sakura said.  There was a certain freedom she had never felt before in dancing barefoot in the grass under the Spring sun, turning, leaping, and reaching into the fresh air.  

[pinkispoggers]

Cold Nights | Mando x Female!Reader

CHAPTER 1: HEAVEN IN THE HOT SPRINGS

Prompt: What if you were to take the place of frog lady, but only to change Din's life in a few days? To be the person he never knew he needed, and to you, to find out something about yourself that would change your life.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, And unprotected sex

Word count: 4k

You had finally finished with your work for Peli Motto, but you needed a way home, and she couldn't directly provide that. She has left you to think or send someone you know a holo-message to get you out of here, but all your hard work lead up to no luck.

It’s has been 2 hours since your efforts took place and still nothing. You started to panic. Would you make it home in time for life day? Or would you be stuck on this musty, hot planet for the holidays? 

Mid panic, you hear a familiar voice seeming to hold a tense conversation with what sounded like a male. A gruff but sweet voice that you were mesmerized by. You peek out to see a tall figure with shiny… beskar armor? You hadn't seen that in years! "Wow" you whisper and Peli turns her head to see you staring at the armor of this person. You hadn't even looked up to see the helmet and notice a Mandalorian. You look up slightly, then gasp. You had only heard stories of them when you were a child, but now you see one right in front of you. You are terrified, but you can’t stop the feeling inside of you; excitement. 

“Well, C’mon now,” Peli says with delight. “My friend here is gonna get you home!” Peli smiled. You were very scared and shaky. You didn’t know how to react at this moment, but you slowly moved forward towards the two, feeling eyes all over your body. You knew a pair of those eyes were his. But it felt strange like he was not judging you, but he was more or less admiring you. 

Peli had motioned to hop on the ship, and of course, you complied. You walk towards the big ship, wary of being judged for anything you were doing as you were unsure this was a good idea. A little green being is following right behind you. You hadn’t noticed until in cooded and startled you. “Oh, don’t worry about him,” Peli called. That also made you jump. “It’s just his kid.” She laughed. You thought for a minute before heading forward. His kid? His species? No, he was a giant, and that was merely a baby. It couldn’t be. You didn’t want to seem rude, but you needed to ask later.

You finally make it into the ship. Anxiety washes over you—another foreign location. The smell of the ship sent you into a daze. It smelt so… new. For an old model, of course. You felt like curling into a ball in the middle of the ship’s hull, but then he stepped in, careful not to scare you. He walked right past you, scooping the child into his arms, and you started to follow him for a reason you couldn’t precisely explain. He had nothing to say about it, which, to you, meant you should continue following him.

You get to the cockpit and sit yourself in the passenger seat, setting your luggage next to you. “Now im gonna ask you to stay strapped in whenever you’re seated. Traveling sublight is a bit dicey these days.” The Mandalorian speaks to you in a gruff voice while pressing some buttons. “Whether it’s pirates or warlords, someone either ends up with a nice chunk of change or your ship.” He goes on. You turn to face him, and he turns halfway to face you. 

“Well, that shouldn’t spike my anxiety.” You whisper, hoping he wouldn’t hear, but he did. He was a reticent man if he wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t know that, so being you, you try to start up a small conversation. “Sorry if that was rude. I don’t usually talk to people except for Peli.” You breathe. “It’s ok,” He says softly. 

There's a long silence between you two, but the Mandalorian breaks it. “May I ask your name?” He askes quietly. “Oh yeah! It’s Y/N!” you say in a screech, happy that someone is interacting with you.  “Alright, Y/n, Where are you from?” He asks happily. He had never been this comfortable with a stranger before. It was like he’s known you for all his life. Something about you made him so joyful like he could talk with you for hours. You could break through his mesmerizing beskar

“Oh me? Im from Trask, or that’s where im forced to live with my family cause I have nowhere to go…” you stutter. “Oh, well, I hope you’re happy there, Y/n.” He exclaimed, and you frowned, but he chose to start a quick conversation with you. You didn’t know, but this was rare for him to be talking to someone like this.

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?” He asks. “Yeah, go ahead.” You say with confidence. “Do you have a partner?” He asks. You sit there for a moment, trying to comprehend that question. “Im sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” “No, No! It’s ok! I’ve never had a partner… Have you?” you ask. “Yes,” he states. The way he says it made you want to jump. “Im sorry.” You cry, and he doesn’t answer. “So Im gonna hit the rack. I’ve set the nav for our course; it’s gonna take a while. I recommend you get some rest.” He laments as he gets out of his seat and glides past you, child in hand.

You just couldn’t sleep thinking about what he had asked. A partner? Why would he be wondering about that? No, he didn't think of you that way-- he couldn’t. But you did. You had barely known him for an hour, and you were already falling for him. Now you didn’t even want to go back home, but you knew that your family would be waiting for you. You wondered about him while slowly drifting off to sleep.

He is wide awake, stirring in his space. You. You were all he could think about. Your grace, your beauty. He had feelings for you that he could not deny. He sat there for an hour thinking only of you, of what you would look like under him. But he couldn’t think of you like that; he had just met you.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the loud beeps coming from the cockpit. "No," he breathed and ran to the cockpit.

You awake to hear a conversation between the Mandalorian and two unknown voices and immediately jump, but when you were about to speak, the ship went down fast. You let out a screech as you feel your insides being moved around from the pressure. He’s flying to the planet quickly, and you shout. “SHHH,” he shushes you loudly as he pilots the ship in between clouds.

It’s a beautiful sight, but this is not what you signed up for. 

As the ship turns and shakes through the atmosphere, you turn and bounce. This is not fun for you. “Razor Crest, stand down. We will fire. I repeat, we will fire.” an anonymous voice says through the coms. Your stomach sank. You didn’t want to say anything to keep the Mando calm. But then it fell.

"MANDO-" You scream as the ship plummets. “Y/N NOT NOW,” The Mandalorian shouts, and your stomach twisted as the boat falls towards the planet. You tried to hold on to anything you could to study yourself, but as the Razor Crest fell, you couldn't. You were screaming down until you couldn’t scream anymore. The ship finally steadies itself and heads into a canyon with two x-wings following. 

You start to hyperventilate; sure, now you were going to die until he finally sets into a divot in the side of the canyon, hitting every bump on the way. You are still hyperventilating, trying to calm yourself after everything that just went down. The Mandalorian pushes a few more buttons before shit hits the fan again. You sure the cracking of ice in the ship makes its way through it with a crash. You groan as it hits the ground, and you both pass out.

He slowly wakes up from the daze, only wanting to know if you are ok. He looks back on the floor where you lay and puts his arms under yours to lift you off of the cold steel ground, which you are freezing on. As he is grabbing you, you wake up and shout, thinking that you are in danger, to which he replies by setting you softly on a chair. “My luggage, my luggage!” you shout through teeth chattering. ‘I’ll find your luggage, don’t worry!” he replies. You whine and groan. “Gotta get you some blankets, keep you warm,” he called as he rushed out of the cockpit.

It’s been a minute, and he’s not back. You start to panic. "THAT LITTLE GREEN THING BETTER NOT BE IN MY LUGGAGE!" You call. "Don't worry; he’s not!" The Mandalorian lies. 

~in the lower level of the ship~

You sit on your luggage with a warm blanket around you, feeling safe for the first time on this trip. The Mandalorian gives you and the little green creature something to eat and drink while he figures things out. “If you haven’t guessed, we're in a tight spot.” He exclaimed. “The main power drive is not responding, and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls.” he goes on without letting you reply. “I’ll have a better idea of our prospects at that time.”

You aren’t listening to what he’s saying, but you try to be respectful, but that’s hard when he’s going on about things you have no interest in. You just nod your head and pull the blanket closer to your chest. He sits right next to you as you continue to watch the child eat. "We will figure everything out in the morning, but for now, I suggest you get some sleep." He yawns peacefully. The big-eared kid climbed onto his lap and cuddled with him. You were still surprised that one of the most feared killers in the galaxy could sleep, or keep a pet, for that matter. Well, everyone had a different life.

You settled on the cold steel of the ship’s floor, wrapping three blankets around you, hoarding them. Not like he would need them anyway. You barely slept. All you could think about was him and not being able to get enough warmth. You didn't exactly know what you were feeling towards him. It was something like an attraction, but you feared him. Maybe it was the fact that he towered over you, or perhaps it was that he is a Mandalorian. You had no idea, but all you knew is that you were pulled towards him, and he was letting off the same energy.  

It was too cold where you were sitting and being you; you knew you needed to find more warmth. You desperately wanted to get heat from him but didn't want to invade his personal space like that, and it would be too awkward to ask him. You slowly got up from your now warm spot on the ground, careful not to wake him before morning when he would start trying to repair the Razor Crest. You sneak through the blanket he used to cover up the gaping hole in the ship and started your adventure. 

You head out into the cold and noticed a large cave. You thought maybe the shelter would be warmer than the ship, so you run in. its a beautiful cave, lots of different paths that you were not ready to go down, but you chose one that leads to a beautiful place with what looked like rocks all around which gave you a bad vibe for some reason. But then you saw it. A hot spring. “Yes! Yes!” you bolt to it, stripping down into nothing and hopping in, ready to skinny dip into this pool. You get into the spring and immediately warm up. “Yesssss, this is it.” You say, as warmth traveled all down your body, and you felt amazing, but right when you were finally relaxed, “Y/N?!” a familiar voice called. Right when he did, you lowered the rest of your breasts underwater. 

He finds you completely naked underwater but doesn’t mind. “Y/N, I know it’s warm, but it’s not safe here; we need to get back to the ship.” He sighs. A wave of confidence and comfort rushes over you, and you stand up in place, revealing your breasts to him. You couldn't see his face, but he was hypnotized like it was his first time seeing tits. He was just bathing in your trust, knowing he could take advantage at any time, but something told him not to. 

You can no longer fight this feeling, but you were very unsure of your actions at this point. Did you want to go through with this? It was just going to be a quickie, right? He’s trying to be as respectful as possible, but to him, you are the perfect being, and he can not let this moment go to waste. He starts to fumble with his chest plate, soon getting it, with the rest of his armor except for his helmet off. “Mando?”

The armor was all off; now time for the suit. He struggled for a moment before pulling it all the way off. You quickly turned away, not wanting to look at him, trying to be respectful before he hopped into the spring. You turn back around to see nothing but his helmet and shoulders until he stood up. His full chest was showing now. You cower below him, unable to speak or move, admiring all the beautiful scars on his chest and the way his chest moved up and down when he breathed. He was so stunning. Right when you were about to speak, he pushed you up against the ice. "Mando i-" you say as his finger comes up to meat your plush lips. 

He rips you from the ice and pulls you closer to him. "Mando im a virgin…" you whisper. "Oh, don't worry, I'll go easy on you." He cood. You reached out to try to touch him, to feel him before he could go any further on you. Your hands reached his sides, gliding your hands up and down his sides and over his stomach, feeling raised lines that could only be scars as you traced them up and down. But the temptation to take advantage of the situation was getting to you. So you followed your lower gut and started lowering your hand towards the pit of his stomach, earning a warning growl from deep in his throat. That just gave you an urge to go farther.

He slid his thigh in between your thighs, which almost touched your womanhood. You moaned softly, and in response, he purred. He admired your thighs most about your body, along with your beautiful breasts. I am very aware that you might not be able to take all of me. She didn't either…” you felt a little bit of jealousy now. “Who is “she”? Am I helping you cheat? What's going on, Mando?!” you hissed. “No need to get mad. She is my ex, it's fine.” he breathed “whatever you-” you were interrupted by a finger to your clit, circling in slow motions. “M- Mando i- oh yes,” you moan. He sped up a little more, taking that as clearance. You now were a moaning mess; you hadn't ever been touched like this by anyone but yourself. And you loved it.

“M- Mando, i-m close, im g-gonna cum!” you moan. You were on fire, feeling more alive than ever. “Cum for me. Cum.” His beautiful voice was enough to send you over an edge you had never reached before. You were quivering in front of him. So beautiful, the glow of your body overwhelming him, making his lust for you grow quicker.

Then you heard it, the grunting and slaps. He was… rubbing himself down, because of you? Your stomach burned and twisted with passion, ready to take him, all of him. What you didn't know is that he was long, precisely 8 inches, that you were not exactly prepared for as you could only take about 5. You were pulled out of your thoughts with the tip of his cock, pressed firmly against your slick folds. His hands gliding through your (h/c) hair, his thick fingers gliding along your stomach. “Please,” you beg. You wanted his thick cock to stretch you out. And when I say thick, it was big.“Now, I want you to scream for me, sweetheart.”

Before pressing the tip back at your entrance, with a sudden thrust, he was bottomed out. About half of him was buried inside of you, stretching you out to the max. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The feeling of his cock overwhelmed you. You tried to move around him, feeling him hit your sweet spot, which made you clench hard around his oversized member, earning a loud groan from the Mandalorian.

He moaned, looking down at you, half of him already inside you, yet he wasn't able to go any further. He growled, easing himself into you, hoping you could take a little more of him. You tried to calm yourself, your stomach tightening, trying to take all of him. “Have I reached your cervix already?” he tried pushing even deeper. “M-Mando, stop,” you moaned “does that hurt now?” you nodded.  He had to stop because he didn't want to lose your trust. He wanted one thing. For you to fall into subspace. He had fucked plenty of times in his life. But his goal was to get someone to trust him enough to fall into subspace, which he had failed before. He was way too dominant for someone to trust him fully. “Well, you will take all of me,” he grunted.

 How? I'm too tiny. I can't.” you mumbled. “You can, and you will.” Mando chuckled. He slowly pulled out of you, trying not to hurt you. In response, you sighed. “I'm sorry.” you lamented. To which he smiled where you couldn't see “no need." He buried himself back into you and let you have a moment to get used to him, to stretch to his size without hurting you. “OH MANDO,” you scream as he finally fully sheaths himself into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head like it was the first time. His thick cock stretching you out to the max and filling you up completely. “You're doing so well. Just hold on a little longer,” he whispered into your ear. These phrases were the only thing keeping you from splitting you in half. The pain turned into pleasure in an instant.

He started heavy, slow thrusts, gradually increasing his pace while keeping a finger on your bud. “Oh, Mando- M-MANDO  a-AH,” you yell. You were a moaning mess under him, your legs shaking and convulsing. This earned a groan from his lips. He picked up the pace in both places. You were so close to cumming, to an edge, farther than you have ever gone to. His thrusting became even faster, hitting your g-spot every time until- “A-AH” you came, violently around his swollen member, making his member explode with loads of hot cum. “There we go.” he purred as he works you through this high.

He’s expecting your body to come down from this high already, but it doesn't. Then it hits him. You have fallen into subspace. He has never had a partner fall this far with him. He's scared. You are so vulnerable to him in this rare moment, but he is also honored that you trust him this much. You should have never trusted someone like him. “Where have you gone?” he grins. 

He pulls out of you, feeling satisfied with his work. But he needed to get you back to the ship and fast because it was starting to get dark. He clothed you, still fading in and out of subspace consciousness, then himself, keeping an eye on you while he suited up. 

He’s all done suiting up now, about to carry you back to the ship when “Patoo?” a little voice called. He turned his head to see the small, big-eared child. “No, no.” He barked at himself. The child shuffled over to where you were. Something was keeping Mando from stopping him. The child put his hand against your side, closing his eyes as to try to connect to you. You awakened hyperventilating. “M- Mando, we need to leave now!" You shout as he turns your way. "Ok, let's go then. do you need help?" He asks. "No, I think I'm fine but keep him away from those rocks… or eggs…" you mutter. "Eggs?!" He shouts. "Y/n we need to leave!" The Mandalorian adds. 

You get up from where you lay with difficulty, and the Mando grabs the kid, who is running towards the eggs. You try your best to run, but the limp is taking over. You end up waddling out of the cave’s long tunnels, following the Mandalorian.

You make it out of the cave and back to the Razor Crest, entirely out of breath and holding on to your lower stomach for dear life. The bridge to the ship lowers, and you hop on, sitting on an empty crate. The Mandalorian went to grab some more blankets, leaving you with the child. You couldn’t help but stare into those big eyes and at those humongous ears. He was staring back into your beautiful eyes, trying again to talk to you, although you didn't understand what he was saying. He motioned for you to pick him up, so you scooped him into your arms. 

You could hear babbles coming from the child, but he wasn't talking. It was more like thoughts. "What are you saying, kid?" You thought. But as you were about to try to speak to it, Mando came in with a few more blankets. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I found some if you need them." He said. You took the blankets with a simple thank you, and you continued to stare at the kid. 

The night is rolling in fast, and you have the need to sleep, and so does he. You hop up with the child in hand, handing him back to the Mandalorian. You walked to the opposite side of him and lay down. 

You're tossing and turning, not getting any sleep. You want to complain about how cold it is, but you knew that he already knows, plus, you don't want to seem rude. You're freezing, teeth chattering; none of these blankets would add up to the heat you desperately wanted. You thought about getting more blankets, but you already had 5, but then you had an idea, a horrible idea. Your mindset was based on your old hobby of stealing spice and trading with the Pykes. You were very sneaky. The only problem was the child was on his blanket. 

You sneakily got on your knees and made your way over to the Mandalorian and his pet. Right when you were about to touch the blanket, "I know it’s cold, Y/n." He spoke in a more resonant voice than usual, and it startled you. "You should have said something." He lamented. "All the blankets in the galaxy couldn’t warm me," you snort. "Well, how about you come over here." He said boldly. "What?" You ask, not sure if you heard him right. "You can come over here if you want to Y/n," He repeated himself.

You slowly crawled over to him, not sure if this was ok. You were terrified. When you finally got to him, he lifted one of his blankets off of him and set it on you. You got closer to him every second until you felt his Beskar. It was so, so cold, but that didn't mean you would not lay on it. It took a minute, but the beskar heated up, and you were content. You buried your head below his neck, and he said not one word. "You are an angel, Y/n," he said in his deep, sleepy voice, and it scared you. 

“Im no angel. You have no idea of my past,” you say groggily. “Well, to me, you are,” he spoke without hesitation. “Sure Mandalorian man, I barely know." You giggle. You scoot yourself closer to him, putting your arm on his chest and drift to sleep.

[adverb-slut]

Can I get some Mammon fluff? Like he or MC are upset about something and they come to one another for cuddles? I think that's cute.... Plus I'm in need of a hug 🤗

Sorry, anon this took so long!!!  Mammon was being a butthead throughout this whole fic and was not cooperating!  And this is not exactly cuddling, but I hope it suffices!  AND OMG ANON YOU SHALL BE HUGGED  🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗 Also, as usual, this story can be read on AO3 here.  Additionally, I have a few more writing requests to do, but feel free to send more if you’d like!

Title:

Avatar of Greed

Summary:

Mammon barges into your room very upset. You may not have all the answers, but you sure know when someone is in need of a hug and a listening ear.

Genre:

Angst/Comfort/Fluff

Rating:

G

Word Count:

1606

-

You tap your fingers on your desk and stare daggers at your Poison Lore 1001 homework.  Your assignment is to create an extremely volatile aphrodisiac using belladonna, hemlock, and another toxic, yet arcane plant native to the Devildom—which is what stumps you, because as a human, how are you supposed to know what toxic plants are native to the Devildom!?  

You growl in frustration.  You aren’t supposed to use the internet to acquaint yourself with said plant and you can’t find your library card in order to check out a book at the Royal Library to find out what it might be.

Resting your head on your desk, you sigh.  Before you can decide that the assignment is a lost cause, you hear your bedroom door swing open.  Someone stomps in and sighs dramatically; you can hear them flop onto your bed. You already know who it is before they say a word.

“Mammon,” you groan, not raising your head.  “What did I say about sitting on my bed?”

“‘None of the members of the House of Lamentation are allowed on MC’s bed,’” he recites.  He pauses and then amends, “‘Cept for the Great Mammon, ‘cause he was MC’s first.”  

You moan and turn behind you, where you see Mammon lying all starfish-like on your bed.  “I don’t remember adding the last part.” You walk over and poke him. “Get off.”

“No,” Mammon whines, slinking further into the sheets. “MC, ya gotta let me stay.” 

Again, you poke him.  “Why?”

He sighs.  “Just do it, okay?”

Surprised with his answer, you finally decide your homework is most definitely not going to get done and scoot onto the bed with him, sitting on your pillows with Mammon sprawled out in front of you.  Absentmindedly, you fiddle with his hair, not noticing the blush that spreads across his face as you do so.  

“St—sto—”  he sputters incoherently for a few moments, before closing his eyes and retreating to silence.  The two of you sit like that quietly for a spell, before he breaks it again. “MC,” he begins, his voice so faint that you barely can hear it, “d’ya think I’m annoyin’?”

You don’t miss a beat as you continue playing with his hair and answer, “Yes.”

“Whaddaya mean by that, huh?” he demands, his blush growing even deeper and his eyes flying open.  “Didn’t ya hear what I asked? I asked if ya thought I was annoyin’!”  

“I know; I said ‘yes.’”  He doesn’t see the tiny smirk that forms at the corner of your mouth.

Mammon fidgets, his face tomato red now.  “K—keep talkin’ like that MC, and I might actually believe ya!”  He pauses again, and sits up, turning behind to look at you. He looks down and his voice turns into a whisper.  “… Do you really think that, though?”

You look at him, raising your eyebrows.  Before he had looked down, you had seen something in his dark blue eyes—something you hadn’t noticed before.  

You had always noticed the pools of a desire for validation that rippled in his dark sapphire irises, but today—today, you saw thin streams of desperation swirling amongst them, as well.  You decide that the time for teasing the tsundere, tsundere demon is over. You pull him back down, letting his head rest on your lap and scoop a pillow off your bed.

“Wh—whoa, MC!” he exclaims.   You didn’t think his face could get any redder, but somehow it does.  “I know you’re desperate for The Mammon, but ya didn’t even answer my que—”

Before the fool can finish his sentence, you whomp your pillow across his head.  You blush, grit your teeth, and answer his initial question, saying, “If I found you annoying, I wouldn’t sit here and listen to you babble, would I?”  

Mammon coughs in embarrassment and wisely avoids eye contact—a fact which you are very grateful for, because what would you do if he saw how red your face was now?

You try to regain your composure.  You clear your throat and wonder, “Why do you ask?”  You ponder if one of his brothers had said something to him for him to ask such a question, but then you remember Mammon’s neverending patience when it came to the verbal lashings that his brothers magnanimously granted to him. 

“It’s nothin’.”

You remember the desperation you had seen in his eyes and in your most wheedlesome tone, cajole “Come on, say.”

“I told ya, it’s nothin’ for you to worry about, MC.”

“Please say.”  You take a deep breath and muster your sweetest voice.  “For  me?“

“AAAH!” he grumbles, nestling his head deeper into your lap.  “MC, you know damn well that I can’t say no when ya use that voice!”

You smile in satisfaction and amuse your fingers in his hair once more.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Mammon turns to his side so you can no longer see his face and sighs.  “Fine.” He takes a deep breath. “MC, what sin am I the Avatar of?”

“Stupidity.”  The tease pops out of your mouth without your consent.  

“HEY!  Stupidity’s not a sin and you know it!”  

You stifle a laugh as you notice that he doesn’t deny his idiocy and try to remain serious.  “Alright, alright. I know you’re the Avatar of Greed.”

“Mm-hm,” he agrees.  “And ya know what? I’m damn good at what I do.”  Mammon’s confident tone falters for a moment. “Sure, I’m klepto as hell, but it’s not like I can help that … y’know?”  He pauses. “I’m greedy—it’s who I am. When I see somethin’ I like, I gotta have it, no matter what.” You don’t notice that he lightly coils his fingers around your calf as he says this.  

Saying nothing, you nod at his spiel.  You know the secondborn demon well enough to realize that he has more to say.  

And he does.  His voice lowers to a whisper and he wonders, “Then why am I always gettin’ blamed for bein’ who I am, huh?”  You can feel his head shake in your lap. “Sure, I guess me lootin’ stuff isn’t fun for everyone, but it’s not like I can help it—it’s instinct.”

You’re not sure how to answer his question, so you continue your silence and let him talk.  

“But hey, doesn’t everyone notice that it also ain’t fun for all of us to have to explain to the whole class why Belphie’s sleepin’ during lecture again or to open the fridge and realize Beel’s eaten damn near everything?  Or hey, do they think it’s easier to have Asmo hittin’ on everything with a pulse?  Maybe it’s better for Satan to blow up the House in some kinda tantrum or to have Levi freak the fuck out ‘cause some rando on the internet has a Ruri-chan figure that he doesn’t?  Or to know that Lucifer—” his voice breaks, but he swallows quickly and continues, “—to know that Lucifer’s so fuckin’  perfect that I can’t think of any flaws for him?”

Even though you vowed not to interrupt him, you decide it’s best to cut him off there.  “Lucifer’s not perfect.”

“Trust me—” Mammon’s voice breaks again as he turns his head deeper into your lap.  “—trust me, MC, I know that! Ignore ‘im for a minute here.” He sighs and pivots so that he faces the ceiling, and you can see that his eyes are ever-so-slightly glassy.  “Just … why’s that okay, huh? Why’s everything all hunky-dory for them when they’re givin’ into their sin, but all pitchforks ‘n’ torches for Mammon?”

You pull your hands out of his hair and bring them around his shoulders.  For once, he’s too distraught to blush. You’re not sure why his brothers act the way they do, but you are sure of the response he needs.  “It’s not fair.”

“No,” he mutters, “it ain’t.  And it’s not like it bothers me a lot, but sometimes … when I get to thinkin’ … ”

That’s when you realize that the desperation you had seen earlier in his eyes wasn’t just his desperation to be validated, but desperation for someone to just listen to what he was saying.  

You’d seen how the other six demons reacted when Mammon spoke—they’d tromp over him (although … could you really blame them?  Mammon’s dialogue usually made it clear that he was merely operating on one brain cell). Perhaps it was in an effort to tease, but even then there was only so much a demon can suffer.  You’re even more thankful now that you had let him monologue for so long. If anyone deserved to, it was the silly secondborn. 

You don’t even have to think as you yank him into a seated position and wrap your arms around his back tightly; you don’t let go as you slowly rub circles into his back.  Graciously, you decide to do him a favor and not make the adorable little squeak! he elicited as you did so public knowledge.

“H—hey, MC!  Ya don’t have to feel sorry for me or anythin’!”  He blushes, having regained some of his cockiness.  “I’m a demon for cryin’ out loud!  I don’t need a hug!”  Nevertheless, he takes a deep breath and leans into you.   

Your head is nuzzled into his hair as you murmur, “Shh … everyone needs a hug, sometimes.”

You feel his body stiffen and you worry that that was the wrong thing to say.  However, Mammon turns around and wraps his arms around you, just as tightly.  

You breathe warmly into him and stifle a laugh when he meekly asks, “Y—you’re not gonna do this for my brothers, right?”

“Never.”