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black-rose-writings · 1 year ago

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Unexpected Consequences (Danny Phantom One Shot)

Also on AO3

Inspired by and referencing the events of this comic by @lilianade-comics

By the time Danny Fenton was four, his parents have gone through all of the available babysitters in the entirety of Amity Park and Elmerton. Well, technically not all of them, but apparently, there is a critical percentage of babysitters scared half to death, at best, which makes all other babysitters turn you down no matter how high the pay.

Of course, in this case, the problem was with the house, not the kids, but the Fentons would not be convinced that their house is anything but the safest place for their children to be. What if a ghost came to the babysitter’s house? How would they defend themselves? Do ignore the fact that their own house was a magnet for ghosts, because that’s exactly what they did.

And it brought them to him.

The last thing Vlad Masters expected to hear during his Thursday dinner was his phone ringing.

Well, that was not entirely the case. He was running a rather large company by then, and he was known to take after-hours calls. Not happily, but it wasn’t as if he had any sort of life outside of work – not one that he could be open about, anyway – and with the global expansion of his enterprises in the last few years, sometimes people simply forgot about the existence of time zones.

He didn’t expect to find his personal phone ringing. A small thing that he modified himself and was fairly certain only his mother and a certain annoying definitely licensed and absolutely not shady or paranormal in any way psychologist had the number for. This was neither of them.

He was sure Spectra would give the number to someone just to piss him off, but no living being (and very few dead ones) even knew of their connection. Which left his mother, whom he did instruct to not give the number to anyone, under any circumstances. Of course, telling a Masters to not do something was entirely pointless if said family member did actually want to do the thing.

He hoped to all Ancients his mother wasn’t trying to set him up with some pretty single girl or a recently divorced single mother from her church again.

And while that prayer had been answered, it was much like making a wish to Desiree – somehow worse than the thing he wanted to avoid.

On the other end of the line was Jack fucking Fenton.

It took considerable willpower to not immediately crush the phone and burn the remains to nothing. He did, however, transform before Jack even finished the first sentence.

What ghost wouldn’t get defensive, hearing the voice of their ghostmaker, for the first time after a decade of silence, talking cheerfully and excitedly? Like he hadn’t killed him with his impatience. Like he hadn’t left him to rot. Like he didn’t turn him into an abomination. Like no time had passed. Like nothing had changed.

How dare he talk like that? How dare he ask for favors?

His ghost half may have been the more emotional one, but there was also a level of confidence and power that it brought. Things that he was going to need if he was to talk to Jack Fenton and not let the oaf know anything was wrong. He was fairly certain the man wouldn’t notice either way, but there was no way to know when Madeline could be listening in.

Jack – no, both of them – were asking for a favor. They needed someone to babysit their kids.

Vlad was vaguely aware the two of them had produced two children – the thought of Jack’s clumsy hands anywhere near Madeline made him see red every time – focus, Vlad.

It seemed the couple had bought a haunted broadcast tower to work in and had transformed it into a livable house (or so they claimed). Unfortunately, it seemed that while the ghosts haunting the tower steered clear of the Fentons, babysitters had no such luck, and neither did their kids – though they taught the kids basics of ghost defense (Vlad didn’t know much about kids, but he was fairly certain ghost fighting skills of any sort were not standard curriculum for four and six-year-olds).

It took Vlad a considerable effort to not send Jack to hell and tell him that it’s their own fault. He thought of Madeline. They were her children too.

Of all the plans he had come up with, of all the ways he considered wooing her, this was not one that had come to him before. Things have changed. They weren’t in college anymore. His Madeline was a mother, now.

Perhaps all he needed was to show Madeline that he was a better parent than Jack Fenton. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

***

If you told Vlad Masters the day he (run from) left the hospital that there would come a day when the love he felt for Madeline was going to be but a distant echo or that he would love children sired by Jack Fenton as if they were his own, he would probably laugh at you.

If you said to him the day he received the notice of the birth of their first child, that he would one day destroy any creature that would even dare to look at her meanly, that he would endure any pain, put himself between any weapon and this child, he might have blasted you to pieces. He would endure. But she was so human. So fragile.

If you told him the day he found out about their second child that one day, that the child would be the first human to find out his secret, he might have just flown over and throttled the baby in its cradle, just to be safe, and felt exactly zero remorse about the action. Nobody would ever know. Babies die all the time. Especially with parents like his.

If you told him the day he received that fateful phone call that one day, he would be the first to hold Danny Fenton after his death, the only way he would imagine such a scenario happening would be he was the one to kill the boy. Why else would he hold Jack Fenton’s son?

If you told him, any time in those 18 years between his transformation and today, that the Fentons would make their own child a halfa with their negligence, he would have nodded along. Perhaps he would have even been excited about finally having someone be like him, someone he could teach, someone who would share the hate every ghost feels for their ghostmaker for Jack Fenton. It didn’t surprise him – they never changed in that way. And if there was some excitement, when he found out, he could never imagine how much it would hurt.

If you had told him how much the second fateful call would hurt, what emotions it would ignite with him, how irreversibly it would alter him, he would have never picked up the first one.

But he picked up both and there was no going back.

***

Danny’s hands were shaking as he carefully put in the numbers into the phone.

He felt so stupid. He knew it was stupid. He knew it, and he did it anyway.

And for what?

He had been so proud when his parents left him alone at home for the whole weekend for the first time, when Jazz convinced them to take a campus tour at one of her top choices for a university.

She was sixteen for god’s sake, she had so much time for that stuff.

So, of course he invited his friends over. Of course his techno geek and goth best friends wanted to see the stupid ghost lab his parents had in the basement.

Of course they dared him to go into the ghost portal. It wasn’t working. Danny knew that. He also knew it was dangerous. If he could avoid touching any of his parents’ stupid invention for the rest of his life, he would. Which was kinda hard when half of the house counted as one of those inventions.

They called him a coward.

Tucker was one to talk. He was afraid of hospitals for no good reason. Danny could name about a hundred reasons why messing with his parents’ tech or ghosts was a bad idea. It didn’t bother him that Tucker called him a coward. They were losers and cowards and that was one of the reasons they were friends in the first place. Okay, maybe it bothered him a little, but he would never admit that.

Sam, though, it hurt from her. The girl seemed to not be afraid of anything and she was fascinated by all things strange and dark. All the things that pissed off her parents. And as much as Danny told himself she was a friend and he didn’t want to make it weird, anyone with eyes could see the giant crush he had on her.

Sam wasn’t afraid of anything. And even though he could name all those reasons for why he shouldn’t do it, why they shouldn’t be in the lab at all, why he just wanted to spend the weekend playing videogames and raiding his dad’s snack hideouts and why that’s exactly what they should do, none of those words came to mind as Sam goaded him.

He never asked to have a weird family. He just wanted to be normal and deal with just the normal kid problems. He just wanted his friends to understand that unlike them, he wasn’t a weirdo by choice.

Maybe he snapped at them a little. Maybe he raised his voice a little. Maybe he called them just as shallow and image-obsessed as the A-listers. Maybe he called them boring and attention seeking. Maybe he cursed them out a little.

Maybe a lot more than little.

And they left.

He sat in the living room, watching the clock, alone.

Of course he was alone. He yelled at his only friends.

And for what?

Maybe they were right. Maybe he was just a coward. The portal wasn’t working. How dangerous could it be?

As the minutes ticked by and he felt worse and worse about what he did, he got up and headed back into the lab.

He put on one of the small hazmat suits his parents had for him. He had meticulously torn off and threw out all of the stupid patches with his dad’s face that the self-obsessed mad scientist put on them, months ago, in the off chance he was forced to wear one outside or near a camera. He knew that Sam would mock him for it. But with his parents inventions, he’d rather be safe than sorry. Or dead. Or worse – a ghost.

The thought terrified him. If his parents were to be believed, ghosts were nothing more than echoes of human minds, twisted, either entirely animalistic or evil. Monsters, wearing the face of the dead.

He didn’t even believe in ghosts. He had memories of them from when he was a kid, but they could have just been dreams. With how much their parents talked about the stuff, of course his mind would haunt him (ha!) with them in his sleep.

He realized Sam had left her new camera on the table. She had shown him and Tucker how to operate it a few weeks earlier when she bought it.

Danny turned it on, started recording and left it on one of the tables, pointed at the portal.

“Hey, Sam, Tucker… here’s to show you I’m not a coward. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

He waved at the camera, took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.

It didn’t work. How dangerous could it be?

How dangerous could it be?

He couldn’t get that thought out of his head as he stumbled out of the portal. It hurt. It hurt so much. And he wasn’t himself. Not anymore.

Twisted monster wearing his own face. A monster his parents would probably hunt and tear apart for stealing his face, for stealing their child away from them.

He sat on the couch and cried. He wished so much to just be himself again.

He couldn’t be dead, right? Everything hurt. He couldn’t be dead. Ghosts didn’t feel pain.

He looked at his arm, at the formerly black glove, now snow white.

He just wanted to be himself again…

He watched as white light appeared, first around his waist and then travelling along the rest of his body, turning him back into himself.

But his parents said ghosts could sometimes pose as living humans.

He felt his heart beating in his chest, now.

He couldn’t be dead if his heart was beating, right?

It didn’t just moments ago.

The rings.

A memory came up. A memory he dismissed as another dream.

He must have been really small, one of the first times uncle Vlad was watching him and Jazz. He was making smoothies in the middle of the night.

Danny wanted to see what was going on and he saw uncle Vlad, with those same rings around him. His normally silver hair seemed pitch black, before the black rings swept across him and turned him into his normal self. He was too young to have gray hair even now, and more so then. His parents explained that it was because of an accident back when they were in college. And accident with a portal prototype…

Vlad gave him candy to promise to never tell anyone what he saw that night. Danny did very distinctly remember eating it all at once, because he was a four-year-old given an irresponsible amount of candy, and how sick he wound up being after.

He thought the whole thing was just a dream. And maybe it was.

When he looked at his hand, he couldn’t see it. He still felt it there, it still made a dent in the couch pillow, but it was invisible.

Something was very, very wrong and he needed to solve it before his parents got home.

And there was only one person that might have the answers.

He called uncle Vlad.

***

Vlad told him to not panic.

That was easier said than done.

He tried to. He tried to keep himself occupied. He took off the stupid hazmat suit.

He other him was still wearing his.

He wanted to watch the TV, but after the remote phased through his hand and fell beneath the couch, he gave up on that.

He could just go to bed. Vlad lived a few states over. It would take him a few hours to arrive.

Maybe he would wake up in the morning and find out it was just a bad dream.

It couldn’t be. Bad dreams don’t hurt.

Most of the pain had faded by now, though he still felt sore, especially in his own body. The other him didn’t hurt that much – but Danny was scared if he fell asleep in that body, he would never wake up. Not as himself anyway.

He was staring at the living room ceiling as the sun set outside. His whole body felt numb. He was tired, but in a different way than needing to sleep. He didn’t have the energy to get up and turn on the lights.

As the darkness crept up more and more, he realized that he could see in the dark a lot better than he did before.

He felt cold, he realized. Not horribly so, just barely colder than would be comfortable.

Cold like the dead.

A horrible thought crossed his mind.

His parents said ghosts could possess human bodies. Maybe he was already dead, his body growing cold slowly, but he just refused to leave it.

Maybe if he closed his eyes, he would never wake up. He could just let go.

Uncle Vlad would arrive in the morning and find his dead body, laying here on the couch.

A shiver run down his spine, and he would swear a cloud of mist escaped his lips.

Maybe it was just cold in the house, and he was freaking out over nothing.

Then, the light turned on.

He jumped up to see who did it.

Uncle Vlad stood by the door leading from the kitchen, looking him up and down.

It took Danny a moment to realize he was floating and that he didn’t have legs.

Instead, there was a wisp-like tail, moving with a mind of its own.

He may or may not have screamed in shock and moments later, he was back to his old self and hit the couch.

He poked his leg. Solid. Normal.

He gulped and looked up at uncle Vlad.

“Danny…” the man whispered. Danny knew his uncle. His voice was always comforting. It was now, too. But there was something else, that he couldn’t put a finger on. Vlad breathed in as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

He sat down next to Danny and pulled him into a hug.

Uncle Vlad was always warm. Too warm. And he was always super weird about it. But right now, Danny felt the chill that had plagued him since he stepped out of that stupid portal melt away. For the first time since that scream left his throat, he still felt it hurt, he felt like he could breathe properly.

For a moment, it didn’t matter what happened, or if he was some kind of monster now. He felt safe.

He began to cry. He cried into Vlad’s stupid fancy suit, because the man apparently didn’t own any other clothes.

He felt his body tingle the same way it did when he dropped the remote and he feared he would slip from Vlad’s grasp. But he didn’t.

“If you don’t want to hug, you can just say that.” Vlad muttered.

Danny sniffled and looked up at him. “What… what do you mean?”

“Intangibility. But I think you didn’t do it on purpose, did you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Danny admitted. He didn’t want to let go, but he felt like a baby sobbing into his uncle’s chest like that. Vlad run his fingers through Danny’s hair.

“It’s okay. It takes time to learn to control it.” Vlad said. “And I’ll help you in any way I can, little badger.”

“Do you… do you know what…” Danny paused, looking for words, unsure of which question to ask first. “What happened to me?”

Vlad seemed to have just as hard of a time finding words.

“Am I dead?” Danny whispered after a moment.

Vlad sighed. “Yes. But you’re also alive.” Vlad run his hand along Danny’s left arm, where he still felt echoes of the electricity that went through it not so long ago. The electricity that killed him. Vlad let go of him and moved away. Danny didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to go back to the cold. “I want to show you something.”

“Oh… okay.” Danny muttered, letting.

Vlad took Danny’s hand and placed it over his own heart. Then, he laid his own over the center of Danny’s chest, where the cold was coming from.

“Like this, we’re still alive. Our hearts are beating. We need to breathe. We need to eat and sleep like any other human.” Vlad paused for a moment. “Can you transform?”

“I think so.” Danny nodded. He had tried turning back and forth a few times while waiting for Vlad. All it took was a thought.

Vlad turned, too.

If he looked closely, he could still recognize his uncle. The shape of the nose and face, the stupid goatee. But if he didn’t look for his uncle, he probably wouldn’t see it. The ghost had blue skin, red eyes with no whites or pupils, pointed ears and when Vlad spoke, Danny could see sharp fangs glint inside of his mouth. Even the shape of the body was different – mom said uncle Vlad had never fully recovered from his accident and the resulting hospital stay. It seemed that the ghost half of him had no such problem, and probably much more resembled the shape the man had been back then. And if his human body had been a little too warm, this one was basically a walking space-heater.

“Like this, no heartbeat.” Vlad whispered. “No need to breathe and no need to eat human food, either.”

“What about sleep?”

“Unless you’re in the ghost zone, yes.” Vlad nodded. “But you can’t stay in one form for too long. If you stay human for too long and don’t use any of your powers, they will simply happen on their own, whether you want it or not. And if you stay as a ghost for too long, your human body will weaken.”

“Will it go away?”

“No. This is you, now.” Vlad sighed. “But you’re not alone in this. I’ll teach you. I’ll help you.”

Vlad turned back to his human form again and Danny followed suit. He could now name the feeling that happened when he did. The suddenly loud thump of his heart, the need to breathe.

“What was that… tail thing?” Danny asked. It had been bothering him the whole time.

“Sometimes, ghosts do that, when we’re flying. Not all and not always, but it does make flying a little more effective.”

“Am I a monster, now? Mom and dad said all ghosts are monsters.”

“Your mom and dad are too obsessed with being right that they get a lot of things wrong about ghosts. Ghost are much like people. Some good, some bad, and most just kind of in-between.” Vlad said. “They are… different, though. Their society, their rules and traditions, it’s very different from human ones.”

“Why do I need to know that? I’m not planning on hanging out with any ghosts… except you, I mean.”

“Some of those customs and values are inherent to being a ghost. It will not be right away, but your view on those things will likely change to a more… ghost-like one.” Vlad explained. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Vlad… do mom and dad know about you? What you are?”

Danny saw Vlad’s eyes flash red. He had seen it before, though he was sure he was imagining things. Often whenever his accident was brought up. Or when dad said something stupid and insensitive – so most of the time dad talked.

“No.” Vlad said after a moment. “No, they don’t know what I am. And they must never find out about either of us. Nobody living can.”

“Why? I mean… yeah, they are ghost hunters, but I’m still their son and you’re still their friend.”

“Are we? Or are we monsters wearing stealing their faces?” Vlad shook his head. “Your parents have very hard time accepting they were wrong about something. What you are… what we are… goes against all of that, all that they think they know. You might be right. Maybe their love for you is stronger than their stubbornness. And maybe it is not. It’s better we never find out.” Vlad sighed, pulling Danny closer to himself again, seeing the boy shivering again. “And they are not the only ghost hunters out there. Even if they do accept us, the others would not be so forgiving. We must be careful to not leave any evidence of what we are.”

“The camera.” Danny exclaimed suddenly.

“What camera?”

“I… I was recording myself when I went into the portal. I wanted to show my friends I was not a coward.” God, he felt even dumber saying that out-loud.

“Is it still in the lab?”

“I think so.” Danny nodded. Vlad stood up and headed there immediately. Danny followed him.

He always knew Vlad seemed to make no sound while he moved. For the first time, Danny understood how.

“High ectoplasm can mess with electronics. If we’re lucky, the recording doesn’t show anything.” Vlad muttered, seemingly talking more to himself than Danny. The camera was still recording while he picked it up. That was not a good sign.

Vlad began to watch the playback of the video. Danny cringed at the awkward intro he did. And then, moments later, a piercing scream echoed through the lab. Danny felt a sharp stab in his chest at the sound. Even through the recording, it was awful.

Vlad’s features seemed to be made out of stone, but somehow, Danny was certain the man was furious. As the figure of ghost Danny emerged from the portal, Vlad closed the camera and his palm erupted in magenta flames.

Danny stepped back.

“You could have just deleted the video.”

“There are ways to recover deleted videos. This is more certain.” Vlad said, the poured the charred dust from his hand into the hazardous waste disposal. When some of it refused to come off, Danny watched Vlad’s hand change – it seemed almost like static on a TV, but in real life. Vlad’s hand was now perfectly clean. “I’ll buy you a new camera.”

“It was Sam’s actually.”

“I’ll buy her a new camera.” Vlad corrected himself.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Danny asked.

“It will not be possible right away, but once your core settles a bit, it should come naturally.” Vlad nodded. “I promise, I’ll teach you everything I know. But first, dinner. I’m sure you have a million more questions. You can ask them while I cook.”

***

Vlad Masters was not a father. Not that he knew of, anyway.

And Vlad Plasmius wouldn’t even consider exposing himself to such a weakness.

But cores are as fickle as they are stubborn.

Vlad wasn’t Danny’s father, and perhaps in a different lifetime, that would have mattered to him.

It didn’t in this one.

It mattered that the boy he had watched grow up was dead, because of his parents’ negligence.

It mattered that he was alive, stuffing his face full of pasta, badgering him with questions about a subject he had no interest in until that day.

By human law, he was the boy’s godfather and the assigned guardian, should something happen to his parents, just as he was for his sister. Some days, he was tempted to make something happen. Today was one of those days. But he looked at Danny, remembered the conviction with which he claimed his parents would accept him, both of them, even as the abominations they both were now. The boy would mourn. The boy would break. The boy loved his parents, because he was a child and that’s what they do. It was for that look, that conviction, that Vlad held back the inferno rising through his body. The Fentons were lucky their son Remained – had that scream in the portal truly been the boy’s final breath, Vlad knew there would be no holding back.

By ghost rules, however, the boy was his child. Nobody, living or dead, had a greater claim to Danny than he did. Danny couldn’t understand it yet, but the trust he had put in Vlad, the love he held for him, and whatever it was that Vlad felt for the boy in return, had bonded their cores. Perhaps the boy would never realize – his core was so soft and new when the bond formed and would be such a natural part of it by the time Danny would start to understand his core that he wouldn’t even notice it.

Vlad wasn’t sure what he felt for Danny could be called love in the human sense, but after ten years of fighting it, he knew it would be recognized as such by ghosts. Ghost love was like that. Possessive, obsessive, a powerful and unbreakable bond, built on strength and devotion.

Danny was his.

He had let go of his old obsession long ago, perhaps on that fateful night, but he knew the parts of him that still clung to the rage of death would rest easier from now on. In the battle between himself and his ghostmaker, he had won.

#danny phantom #vlad plasmius #badger cereal #fanfiction #angst #for full warnings look at the AO3 version

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noemilivv · 10 months ago

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i meant to get to this a lot sooner but it slipped my mind as i completely forgot about it until i was scrolling through my posts so my apologies 😭😭

this was interesting to write for considering i’m not sure if husk or alastor would even want kids in the first place (more so alastor) but it definitely got me thinking!!

but anywho, here ya go, friend!!

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, pregnancy talk

Alastor

Alastor isn’t a very kid-loving kinda guy, but he’s very traditional, so he decided to follow tradition, and let his power travel to the next generation

You both end up having triplets, two boys, and a girl!!

Alastor wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but he didn’t think it’d be as challenging as it is, he originally thought his magic could help him through every obstacle and he is mistaken

Once his children are in his arms, his facade drops, his usual upbeat grin turns into a small, soft smile as he cradled them, stroking his daughters face.

Alastor is practically unfazed if they wake up in the middle of the night, as I headcanon he stays awake most hours of the night, so he’s in no rush to get the babies back to bed for whatever reason (But he will, dw haha)

Despite the fact that he’s an overlord, he really doesn’t do much, so most of the time he just stays at the hotel with the kids

He doesn’t understand the concept of playing with kids, especially when their in their first couple years, so when their just learning to stand he’ll play jazz music and swing his kids around the room with him as a way of dancing, hey, it’s a win-win, y’know?

If he does have to go out, he will most likely take his kids, but if it’s more than just a 10 minute outing — he does have Charlie babysit.

Like, if he’s going to the tailors, he’ll have two kids on each side of him, holding their hands softly, and the other kid on his shoulders, as they play with his ears (which no one else is allowed to do, not even you)

He doesn’t fully understand the concept of love, as you may or may not have guessed. He loves both you (his partner) and kids in his own special way, and he knows that, whether or not he’ll admit to someone outside of you guys is debatable, but he truly does love you and your kids.

He’s not very good at understanding his kids feelings, especially when their upset. For example, let’s say your daughter is crying over a boy in her teen years, first of all, he won’t hesitate to tear him the fuck apart, but he’ll sort of just stand their and watch her for a moment, wide grin as usual, but his eyes widen in shock before softening their gaze at her for a moment.

Anywho, about the powers, Alastor is eager for his kids to get his powers — even if it’s only one of them, as this is the first reason he wanted kids (which did shift a bit as time went on)

He is very precise with his kids about how these powers work, cause their strong, even if they had only gotten a small fraction of what Al uses, cause let’s be real, he’s fuckin’ tough

He explains how they can use these powers to their advantage, he also takes this opportunity to explain how a smile is a tool, so use it. No matter how they each individually choose how to use these powers, Alastor encourages all of his kids to follow their inner bliss, whatever that is

Husk

Like in the last post with marriage, Husk really couldn’t give a shit, but if you want it, Husk is willing to give it a shot

But let’s be real, Husk was much more willing to get married then have kids

After some convincing, you two decide to try for kids, he realistically only wants one though, so don’t get your hopes up

You guys have a girl! (woohoo!)

Husk, like Al and the others I’ve written for in this scenario, he didn’t expect to love his child as much as he did

While you were asleep in the hospital bed a little after giving birth, Husk takes your daughter, and a part of him (on the inside) cries a little, he looks at her proudly, before pecking her forehead, silently vowing to fight for her forever

Husk doesn’t have a lot of time to help out with the baby, he doesn’t get a lot of breaks from the bar a whole lot, so…

But when he does get time to spend with his daughter? Their usually sleeping together.

Like Husk with hold her in his arms and they’ll lay there and snore together

Husk isn’t too sure how to bond with his daughter before she’s learned to talk but he makes it work

Once she’s old enough, sarcasm becomes a big part of him and his daughter’s relationship, constantly making fun of eachother and giving eachother shit haha

When she’s in her teens she starts to develop Husk’s powers from when he was an overlord, and he feels like he’s gonna shit his pants, but he keeps his cool cause he knows your daughter is hyped

He heavily advises to her to not use them out of fear she’ll get hurt, but if she really wants it, he’ll teach her the basics, he won’t go into the extreme shit, cause she’s young and he doesn’t want her to have more strength than control

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stephofromcabin12 · 5 months ago

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I didn’t know that canonically Dionysus sometimes gets loose and presumably that’s when he has his kids. I always read it as his exile to camp was relatively “recent” in terms of him probably having been grounded in the like. Last few years before the story picks up. I had always assumed his current kids were born before that and so that also helps account for their low numbers (before Rick specified his stance on two being the best number of children or whatever that quote was from TOA)

Well, like most things we learn about Mr D in the books, it’s pretty subtle and mentioned like twice (bc Rick loves to torture me by adding lore and then not developing it further)

Before we look at that, we have to establish that, yes, his punishment seems to be recent. He’s given 100 years to be at camp, and in TLO he explains to Percy that Zeus cut his probation in half, leaving him with 50 years. Which would mean he had just begun his sentence in The Lightning Thief.

“[…] Zeus has cut my probation at that miserable camp in half. I now have only fifty years left instead of one hundred.” (The Last Olympian, p. 343)

But even so, there are a couple of ways he could have snuck out and had some kids.

Firstly, there’s the fact that the gods can be in multiple places at once, as explained by the wine dude himself in The Last Olympian:

“Your concern is touching. I did crash-land. Very painfully. {note: The gods feel pain…Interesting} In fact, part of me is still buried under a hundred feet of rubble in an abandoned coal mine. It will be several more hours before I have the strength to mend. But in the meantime, part of my conciousness is here […] Wherever there is a party, my prescence is invoked. Because of this, I can exist in many different places at once […]”

(The last Olympian, p. 266)

If we assume that gods at their full strength can exist more physically in multiple places, by dividing their “essence” or whatever, we can assume Dionysus would be able to sneak out by being present— seemingly automatically— wherever a party is happening.

It’s pretty much assumed (by me, I don’t think anyone else thinks about his exact whereabouts as much as I do lol) that he does this, or something else, because he is not gone very long in BOTL and TLO, and yet, in The Blood of Olympus, Dakota is seen talking to multiple Dionysus kids, which shouldn’t be possible, since yk. Pollux is the only camper (and should be in college by now but whatever, maybe he came back anyway or took a gap year, who knows) and even if he did take advantage of being away from camp in BOTL and TLO, his kids would be like, 2-3 at most and therefore not old enough to fight (I would certainly hope, although toddlers turning their enemies frantic and crazed is kinda metal ngl) So he must have had more kids before that….Or Rick forgot he killed Castor, which is hilariously possible.

“[…] Dakota shared Kool-Aid with the kids from the Dionysus cabin […]” (The Blood Of Olympus, p. 474)

(Stephanie Olive Overbaum canon confirmed. Its the only possible explanation lmao. If you have a Dio kid OC, you can’t prove they weren’t there. Huge win for the cabin 12 kids lmao)

So, he probably didn’t take advantage of his time away, if he did we wouldn’t know for another couple books, and Rick seems to have lost interest in ever elaborating on his character so we’ll probably never know.

Besides the splitting himself up theory, we have the possibility of him simply leaving lol.

He’s stuck at camp, yes, but the interesting thing is that he seems to be barred from entering Olympus, not so much that he’s barred from going anywhere else. He does leave camp in The Titan’s curse, seemingly without issues. Again, he could have split himself up, but since he’s able to make vines grow and all that, I’m assuming he was physically present. And he mentions paperwork in The Lightning Thief, if I remember correctly, so we can assume he has to file a report everytime he leaves his station to make sure he had a good enough reason to leave (Like a camper sneaking out, for example)

I don’t know how he would get around that one, but he’s sneaky, so I wouldn’t put it past him to sneak out and pretend to be doing something more important.

Of course, there are lines here and there suggesting he does leave every so often.

Ahem:

“As for Seymour, Mr D liberated him from a long island garage sale […]” (The Lost Hero, p. 88)

He couldn’t really have gone to a garage sale without leaving, again, yes he could have split himself up but that’s so easy and boring so I prefer to think he just fucks off and takes a day off here and there. It is a Long Island garage sale, so it’s not like he went far. Even funnier, we can imagine the camp went on another field trip and he came along, finding the garage sale along the way.

“[…] Our camp director, Dionysus, was recalled […]” (The Lost Hero, p. 20)

Ah yes, the recalled era. In HOO Mr D is not present, having been recalled to Olympus.

Technically, we don’t know where Mr D went in the time he was recalled, since we don’t know how exactly that period of time worked for the gods. We know they had no means of communicating, and that Zeus forbid the gods from seeking out their kids.

Even so, Aphrodite sneaks out and meets up with Piper. Athena/Minerva is out and about. Lots of the gods don’t hang around on Olympus the entire time. We’ve established Mr D is A. Sneaky (sneaks up on Percy more than once) and B. Doesn’t give any fucks that Zeus has told him to stay at camp (Garage sale) so I don’t think it’s unfair to assume he dipped and shrugged to Zeus like “I can’t help that I go where parties to🤷🏻‍♂️”

“Yeah but the gods had the headache thing going on, so he probably didn’t want to go anywhere”

I hear you say and you’re right BUT!

In between The Blood Of Olympus and The Tower Of Nero, we have zero clue where Dionysus is, and what he’s up to. Like nothing. We don’t even talk about it. He’s just GONE.

“After the fight with Gaea, I thought Mr. D might return to camp, but he never did. I hope he’s alright.” (The Hidden Oracle, p. 129)

And then in The Tower Of Nero he shows up and nobody discusses where he went.

Can you tell I’m peeved? I’m peeved. Where the fuck was he, Rick?

I don’t even have a quote to show you because no one mentions it.

Hmpf. Anyway. Then we have the interesting tidbit that Dionysus thinks two is the perfect number of children, although it’s important to keep in mind that he thinks this after staying with the twins, which would’ve had to have happened before The Lightning Thief, when he’s already at camp.

So, perhaps in the time of him staying at camp, he simply doesn’t have any more kids, since he doesn’t want to be further outnumbered. (*In canon, in fanfiction anything is possible)

I can imagine a lot of the gods deciding to cut down on their amount of kids if they had to help raise them for a bit lol so that’s actually fair.

Anywho….I forget what we were talking about.

He probably just sneaks out or splits himself up lol

#meta #pjo #pjo dionysus #cabin 12 lore #cabin 12 dionysus #cabin 12 #mr d pjo #asks and answers

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thetomorrowshow · 2 months ago

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Whumptober 7 - only for emergencies

title: in which gem is the only one with normal eyes

fandom: hermitcraft smp

cw: blood and injuries, mild gore, mild cannibalism (idk if it really counts as cannibalism tho...)

“Oh, we’ll be out of here pretty quick!” Scar declared confidently. “Xisuma won’t rest until he finds us.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Pearl questioned. Gem elbowed her.

Scar just waved her off. “If he doesn’t, then I have a back-up plan. But only for emergencies, I’m sure it’ll never come to that!”

They were stuck in here, in this concrete room, a sink and a bucket in the corner. The door was heavy and locked; the only comfort they had were three ragged blankets, which they had each dragged to separate spots in the room, marking their claim for somewhere to rest.

Gem had never been kidnapped before. Not officially, by someone who wasn’t a Hermit. But there was a first time for everything!

“I’m sorry, guys,” Pearl said after a long moment, the little feelers on her head twitching. “I shouldn’t have gone out in public with y’all.”

“Don’t say that,” Gem reprimanded, smacking Pearl on the arm.

“It wouldn’t have been the same without you!” insisted Scar.

“I just . . . if I hadn’t, then maybe—”

“Then we wouldn’t have gotten to go on this fun field trip!”

Scar grinned. “I love fun field trips. Don’t you, Pearl?”

Pearl rolled her eyes, but at least she was smiling. “Whatever.”

“My mom packed me cookies for this field trip,” Scar stage-whispered to Gem. “But I’m willing to trade.”

“My mom just gave me money to buy food.”

“Oh, that’s way better! Now my sandwich looks boring.”

“What kind of sandwich?”

“Classic peanut butter. But I’ve also—”

“I didn’t think I was kidnapped with children,” Pearl said drily. “Do you two mind?”

Scar grimaced. “I think we made the bus driver mad.”

“We? That was all—”

“I wish the torture would start, already.”

They came for Pearl a couple of hours later, by Gem’s watch.

They’d been out on the Hub for a game of lazer tag, of all things. It was supposed to be Gem, Pearl, and Impulse, but Impulse had dropped out last second, and Scar had happened to have a coupon to the lazer tag place, so the three of them went instead.

There was another group in the arena with them, college-age kids, and they all managed to have a good time together. They had seemed like nice kids.

Gem would never stop berating herself for not paying much attention to the way one of them kept staring at Pearl’s antennae. People noticed her—it wasn’t normal at all for an alien to be found on a public world. They usually kept to themselves, as far as Gem knew.

She’d never met one other than Pearl, at any rate, nor had she known anyone who had. In fact, many people didn’t believe they even existed. The Hermitcraft server was split on the issue, with certain people like Ren and Keralis sure of their existence, and others like Cleo and Mumbo fairly dubious.

Pearl had shown up near the beginning of Season 8, and that had put a definitive end to that casual debate.

Gem had honestly forgotten how uncommon aliens were. When you lived with one like Pearl for as long as she had, it became normal. When Pearl had asked about lazer tag, she hadn’t hesitated to find a place where they could go play. She hadn’t even thought about Pearl’s less common features.

“We should’ve seen this coming,” Gem said now, fiddling with the band of her watch. She’d noticed the way that kid was looking at Pearl, but she hadn’t thought anything of it. How could she have ignored it?

Scar shrugged. “Yeah. I forgot that aliens aren’t a thing.”

“Me too.”

“Are you keeping track of how long she’s gone?”

Gem nodded. “Forty minutes, now. How long do you think until Doc and Xisuma find us?”

“Well, they took us to another world,” Scar said contemplatively. “Last time someone got kidnapped, it was . . . Grian, I think? And that only lasted a couple of days, Xisuma tracked him down fast.”

“Do people get kidnapped a lot on Hermitcraft?”

“Usually one per season, at least! Didn’t you notice when I got kidnapped last season?”

“You—what?”

Scar waved nonchalantly. “Yes, yes, I missed a Boatem company meeting for it! I was gone for . . . a week? Maybe less.”

Now that he mentioned it, she did vaguely remember hearing that Scar spent an extended period of time off-world. She didn’t know that he’d been kidnapped, though.

“So it took Xisuma a week to find you?” she said, skipping over Scar’s kidnapping for now.

“Oh, no. Xisuma didn’t find me, I broke out. I mostly stuck around so long because I needed a vacation.”

“So . . . he might not find us within the week?”

“He will! He usually figures it out, at least.”

Gem groaned in frustration, buried her face in her knees. “I hope Pearl doesn't mind waiting.”

She was really trying not to think about Pearl, about what they might have been doing to her. Pearl was strong, that was for sure, but Gem had never seen her in a situation like this. Were they experimenting on her? Observing her?

There was surely some black market out there for aliens. Would it come to that? Were they just showing Pearl to potential buyers?

Were they hurting her?

She couldn’t let herself think about it. Hopefully, Pearl would be returned to them. It was silly to think she wouldn’t be—they were presumably using Gem and Scar as leverage to get Pearl to do what they wanted. As long as the two of them were still here and fine, Pearl was likely also still here somewhere, and not auctioned off to some highest bidder.

That was what was important. Pearl was here, and they were here, and Xisuma was going to get them out of there.

If Gem hadn’t been told, she probably wouldn’t have guessed that Pearl was an alien.

There were plenty of hybrids on Hermitcraft—avian, blaze, dog—, so Gem would have willingly believed that Pearl was some kind of bug hybrid. It wasn’t too far-fetched. She had antennae, and spines on her arms, she could crawl up walls.

The only thing that gave her pause was her eyes.

Pearl’s eyes reflected a galaxy. They spun with stars and planets and darkness, and Gem once spent all day comparing an image of their galaxy to the one in Pearl’s eyes and had found nothing similar in them. She wondered sometimes if the galaxy changed, if there was any way to map what her eyes displayed.

She wondered what Pearl saw.

Her eyes were the most beautiful things Gem had ever seen, and now, as she gently brushed Pearl’s hair back from her forehead, she wished she would open those eyes.

“Why are they keeping us around?” Scar murmured, tucking his blanket around Pearl. They only had the one thin blanket each, but Scar just buttoned up his shirt to protect against the cold.

“I don’t know, but I’m not complaining.”

Pearl groaned, shifted just slightly in Gem’s arms. “It’s because of me,” she said, not opening her eyes.

“Hm?”

“I get energy. From people. They want me to be . . . healthy.”

“Oh,” Scar said. “You’re an extrovert?”

Pearl snorted, finally opened her eyes. Yep, those stars still spun. “I draw energy from people,” she clarified. “It’s how I stay alive, being near others. They keep you here so that I can eat your delicious energy.”

“Yum,” Gem said.

“Yum yum,” Pearl confirmed. Her antennae wiggled. “I absorb it through my antennae.”

Pearl already looked a little healthier than she had when they first threw her back in the cell, and sure enough, Gem was feeling a bit sleepy.

She hadn’t looked too roughed-up, thankfully. A couple of bandages on her inner elbows and hands, a woozy look on her face. Just some tests run, probably. She’d been gone for about six hours.

But this was only the first day. What would happen tomorrow?

“Maybe we should break ourselves out,” Gem suggested. “It can’t be that hard, right? How many guards were there, Pearl?”

Pearl shrugged, her eyes slipping closed again.

Scar tugged on his sleeves. “We should wait,” he said. “I mean, Xisuma’s going to find us any day!”

Gem bit her tongue. She didn’t like to sit around and wait. She liked to get to the action, do things herself, make a push when others weren’t expecting it.

But Scar felt like they should wait, and they weren’t hurting Pearl too badly. It wouldn’t be the end of the world to wait.

Gem clenched her fist and just pulled Pearl closer.

“You know the drill, up against the wall.”

Every day, three people entered the room.

Scar and Gem would scoot to the back of the cell, sitting on the floor with their hands above their heads, pressed to the wall. One man would stand close to them, a stun gun trained on them. The other two would haul Pearl up by her arms and leave, the third backing up behind them. The third man always locked the door.

Gem could easily take out three men. No problem.

Every day, three people entered the room. Four went out.

This was the seventh day, and she was getting really sick of waiting.

“I’m gonna go for it tomorrow,” she told Scar. Scar shook his head rapidly, hiding a yawn.

“No—no, we should wait,” he insisted. “It’s only been a week, Xisuma’s—”

“You said to wait a week,” Gem countered. “I waited a week. Nobody’s found us.”

“We don’t have any weapons!”

“All of the guards have swords and stun guns. I’m GeminiSlay, I can take one down with my bare hands, then take his weapon!”

“I—look, I have a plan if it gets bad,” Scar said, wringing his hands. “But it isn’t bad, yet, and we just have to wait a little longer.”

Gem sighed. Sure, it wasn’t too bad so far, but Pearl was still suffering.

She now had dark bruises trailing up the insides of her arms, the evidence of many blood draws or IVs. Clinical stitched-up lines marked her arms and bare feet, and Gem was sure that she’d been cut open and stitched back up in more places than that, but she held her clothes closed (her shirt had been sliced down the back for easy removal) and shook her head whenever Gem asked if she wanted help with wounds.

She didn’t really talk much, not anymore. She just rested against their shoulders and slept. Gem and Scar usually fell asleep quickly, her drain on their energy pulling them down as well.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but it was still bad. They had spent days here, leaning on one another, their energy dwindling more and more as Pearl required more from them. They only got fed once a day, and the sink in the corner of the room provided water but there was nothing to drink with, and cupping their hands barely got anything.

Plus, Gem had a base to be building. She didn’t have weeks to spend locked up in here.

“I’m going to attack,” Gem decided. Scar grimaced, buried his face into his knees. “Tomorrow, when they come to get Pearl. If you want to help, you can.”

Scar didn’t respond.

So Gem just settled in with her singular blanket and started planning.

It went perfectly.

Until it didn’t.

Gem launched herself at the first guard through the door, wresting his stun gun from his grip. She turned it on him, holding down the trigger until he was writhing on the ground. Then she hit the following guard in the face with the hilt of the gun—and she aimed for the third one—

But it wasn’t right.

There wasn’t just a third guard.

A fourth guard followed in, then a fifth.

Coming straight for her.

Before Gem knew what was happening, she was down, electricity burning through her spasming body. She gasped—her vision went red, flashing, the only sound that echoed through her ears was a distant screaming—

Then it ended, and Gem took in a ragged breath, the world returning under layers of static.

“No more standing, for this one,” a too-loud voice growled. Gem wrenched open her eyes, looked up—

A blurry guard was holding a club over her leg—

He swung, landed with a deafening crack, and Gem screamed and screamed and screamed.

She couldn’t breathe past the pain for far too long. Long enough that black spots floated in front of her eyes, long enough that her chest strained with the lack of oxygen. She gritted her teeth hard enough that one of them gave under the strain, but after several swelling moments, she managed to draw in a breath.

“Okay, can you hear me? Gem, Gem, how many fingers am I holding up?”

She blinked several times, but couldn’t quite keep her eyes open. It hurt so much, sickening pulses spreading out from her left leg, and then it hurt even worse and fire flashed through her brain—

“It’s me, it’s okay, I’m just—I think it’s broken, and we should probably set it but I don’t know how to do that—can you look at me, Gem?”

“Hurts,” she managed, tears squeezing out of her closed eyes.

“I know, I know . . . oh, Gem, oh, this is bad—this is so bad—”

Gem swallowed, then finally forced her eyes open.

Scar was there, leaning over her, hands fluttering as he tried to decide what to do first. Eventually, he just kneeled beside her head, pulling her into his lap. Gem couldn’t restrain a small noise in the back of her throat as even that movement shifted her leg a tiny bit, but she leaned into Scar, desperate for any comfort that might help ease the pain. He wiped her forehead with his sleeve, brushing back strands of hair.

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry, Gem. This is pretty bad, huh? I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

“I’m worrying,” she choked out. Scar chuckled nervously.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Gem slept most of that day, but by the evening, she was more-or-less conscious and able to think through the pain. Her leg was definitely broken, but they didn’t dare set it, not without a doctor present.

She and Scar didn’t talk. Scar sat in the back corner and picked at his nails, glancing around anxiously every once in a while. Gem rested on the ground, trying not to so much as twitch her leg.

When Pearl was thrown back in, though, they were silent for a different reason.

One of her antennae was missing.

It was cut off, messy stitches closing the wound, and Gem could do nothing but gape as Pearl lay in a slumped heap on the floor, her singular antenna barely twitching.

“Oh, Pearl,” Scar said at long last, breaking the silence and diving to Pearl’s side. “Oh, Pearl. I’m so sorry.”

Pearl’s shoulders trembled in a move so foreign that Gem had never seen it before, couldn’t reconcile it with her Pearl—

She was crying. Gem saw it, briefly, as Scar lifted her into his lap—Pearl’s eyes leaked sparkling tears, each one like a miniature star rolling down her cheek.

Then Pearl’s face was hidden in Scar’s chest, and Gem almost believed that she had imagined it. Pearl didn’t cry—all the time that they’ve been here, she’d smiled and laughed almost like it was any other day (albeit more tired and with a few more winces).

If Pearl was crying, that meant things were really bad.

“They—” Pearl choked out, voice muffled by Scar’s shirt.

“Sh, sh,” he hushed. “We’ve got you.”

“They—they’re mapping my eyes,” she cried. “They can’t—they’ll find—they’ll find my home!”

Gem had never asked Pearl where she came from, how she found herself on Hermitcraft, and she never shared that information voluntarily.

Maybe it was to protect her past.

Maybe it was to protect her family.

“Scar,” Gem whispered. When he looked up, she tried to convey to him that this was serious, far too serious to wait any longer. She nodded her head toward Pearl, then toward her own leg.

Scar’s face fell. He bit his lip, glanced between Pearl and Gem.

After a moment, he nodded to himself, coming to some sort of decision.

“I’ll get us out of here,” Scar murmured, gently stroking Pearl’s hair. “I’ve got it, don’t you worry about a thing.”

When the guards came in the next morning, Scar didn’t move from his spot against the left wall of the room, swathed in the darkest shadows that the cell had.

“Against the back wall,” the one with the stun gun commanded, aiming it at him.

Scar smiled, just visible in the darkness. It was a smile that would be considered friendly, jovial, if the person didn’t know Scar.

Gem knew Scar. She recognized that smile from a million miles away. It was the smile he wore when he was about to close a shady deal, when someone played right into his hands, when he was in games of death.

It was hungry.

“Move!”

“No, thank you,” said Scar cordially. “I think you’ll move, actually. Right back out of here, if you want to live.”

Gem blinked, surprised at his level threats. She hugged Pearl a bit tighter, her friend limp in her arms.

The guard snorted. “Yeah, right. You have until the count of three to get against that wall.”

Scar sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said regretfully.

“One.”

“Y’know, it’s always count of three. Why not count of five? Or six?”

“Two.”

“Just wondering! Gem, you might want to close your eyes.”

“Three.”

The guard strode toward Scar, gun out, finger on the trigger.

Gem did not close her eyes. Pearl didn’t look, face still buried in Gem’s shoulder, but Gem watched. She wasn’t afraid of a little bloodshed, and she had no clue what Scar was planning.

Did he really think that he could take the guards on his own, when Gem had failed so definitively just the day before? What did he have that she didn’t?

Suddenly, Scar’s eyes shone from the shadows.

And they shone blue.

Scar leapt at the guard, fangs—since when did he have fangs?—bared in a snarl, and Gem barely had time to blink before Scar’s teeth were ripping into the guard’s throat, tearing it out entirely with frankly impressive jaw strength.

The other two men shouted—one guard got out his own stun gun and hit Scar with a bolt of electricity, but Scar took it in stride without so much as a flinch. His skin rippled, fading blue to match his eyes, and as Gem watched, leathery blue wings burst from his back, shredding his shirt.

The guards barely had a chance to scream before Scar was on top of them, slashing through their flesh with his sharp teeth and black claws (sprouting from his fingertips, still growing longer and longer). He destroyed them in a matter of seconds, blood and viscera flying everywhere, spraying across Gem’s face. She choked, wiped off her eyes, then noticed, with a sense of growing horror, that Scar had stopped to—to eat one of the bodies, digging a hole into his chest and pulling out fistfuls of flesh with reckless abandon.

She opened her mouth to call to him, but no sound came out. Her lips trembled, her breath caught in her throat.

Was this creature still Scar? Blue and terrifying, wings flapping and long claws stuffed into a body, his pointed teeth dripping with blood. His hair was the same, his features still Scar’s (but for the eyes, piercing and ice-blue), the scars on his face unchanged.

Would he recognize her if she spoke to him? Or would he attack them, too?

How had Scar become this—this monster?

Another guard ran up to the cell, but instead of entering, they slammed the door shut, locking it.

That didn’t seem to do more than mildly annoy Scar and distract him from his meal. He growled animalistically, then scampered (and he moved oddly, launching himself from all-fours to flight in a couple of steps, his hands and feet pushing him along even as his wings carried him) to the door. Without warning, he stabbed his claws into the metal of the door and tore through it like it was nothing more than a leaf of paper.

Then he turned, his glowing eyes lighting on Gem and Pearl.

Gem couldn’t help it—she flinched away, pulling Pearl closer to herself. She didn’t know if Scar was a danger to her or not, but after what she just saw, she wasn’t prepared to be seen as a friend.

Oddly enough, Scar’s face twisted in regret. He offered a shrug—rather downplayed by the blood coating him. “Sorry,” he said, and his voice was entirely Scar’s (if with a bit of a lisp from the longer teeth). “I didn’t want—I didn’t want it to come to this.”

Gem wasn’t a squeamish person, but she still avoided looking down at the mutilated bodies. She couldn’t stand to think of literally eating a person—what had Scar become?

“I—I’ll explain later,” Scar said, as if he had heard her thoughts. “I’ll go find a communicator. And destroy their stuff.”

He dashed off down the hall.

Pearl moved against her, tipping her head back. “I’m tired,” she mumbled.

“I know,” Gem said, trying not to gag at the scent of blood that had begun to permeate the room. She swallowed, pushing down her fear. “We’re going home. Scar’s getting us home.”

That was all Pearl needed to hear. She fully slumped against Gem, dead asleep. Gem gently rubbed her back, buried her nose in her hair (carefully avoiding the stump of her antenna).

She hoped they got out of there quickly.

Pearl spent a lot more time resting than she ever had. Gem figured it was something similar to chronic fatigue, now that she was missing half of her main source of energy.

When she asked if it would grow back, Pearl had just shrugged.

“Only if I go back home.”

“Are you going to do that?”

“Probably not. It’s far away.”

Pearl still managed to create massive builds practically overnight, though, so Gem assumed it didn’t bother her too much.

Gem’s leg was still recovering, a month out from their week in captivity. It had been broken severely enough that she’d needed pins to hold the bones together, which put her at six weeks minimum in the cast. It limited her sparring and building abilities, but she did what she could on crutches to keep her skills from getting rusty.

She couldn’t spend all her time practicing, though, in order to let her body recover, so she ended up filling a lot of her time with meditation. Her impatience is what got her leg broken, after all, and she’d been beating herself up about it ever since.

Scar joined her, sometimes, at various points of interest across her base where she could look out over the valley and Pearl across the way. He would sit beside her in silence, oddly contemplative as he, too, stared at Pearl’s builds.

Gem understood, now, why Scar hadn’t wanted to act except in case of emergency. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her like that, either.

He had fully transformed back into something human (she wasn’t sure that he was human, though) by the time rescue arrived, and Cub had taken one look at the gore and taken Scar straight to his base on Hermitcraft, ignoring Xisuma’s insistence that he get checked over for injuries.

Now, as they sat on a hill, a couple of feet between them, Gem wondered what Cub knew.

Scar sighed beside her.

She wasn’t scared of him. She wondered if that was what he thought, that he kept sitting with her and sending her terribly guilty and forlorn looks because he expected to be faced with fear and disgust.

She wasn’t scared. It had been—well, it had been a shock, and she still hadn’t quite gotten the image of Scar eating a human body out of her head, but she wasn’t scared.

She just felt . . . awkward, bringing it up. Scar clearly hadn’t wanted them to see that part of him. He probably felt vulnerable, rejected. Why he kept hanging around her, she didn’t know, but she had to get rid of the barrier between them.

“How’s Scarland coming along?” she asked one day, kicking her good leg a little.

As simple as it sounded, that did it. That broke the ice, and Scar started rambling about something or other, and the next morning when she settled down to meditate, Scar was already there with blueprints in hand.

She stared at his fingers as he pointed out different aspects of his design, her mind’s eye momentarily seeing a blackened claw glistening with blood.

Well. If she ever needed help to murder someone, she knew who she was calling.

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crackrodent · 2 months ago

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Check out the rest of my Flufftober library!

Orange Disaster

Charlie sat in the yard with a few dozen pumpkins, waiting for everyone else to show up and help carve the pumpkins. Each ticking moment was agonizing as she slowly came to terms with the fact it was just going to be her and Vaggie carving all of them.

Even then, she was still going to have to wait since Vaggie was helping Husk with something. Charlie couldn’t remember. Charlie picked up the first pumpkin and started cutting off the top to begin the prepping process.

“Charlie, why are you cutting vegetables outside?” Niffty said appearing out of nowhere.

“For the jack-o-lanterns?” She was certain she explained this in the meeting this morning but it would not be the first time she forgot to check if Niffty was there before starting.

Niffty looked at her with her big ol’ eye, “What’s that.”

“You don’t know what jack-o-lanterns are? Humans like you invented them! You never made them as a kid?”

Niffty ignored her and started cleaning off the pumpkins. “These don’t look very good. They are so messy.”

“Just wait until we pull out the guts!” Charlie joked pulling out the first clump of seeds and tossing them in a bowl.

Charlie didn’t notice, but Niffty had just fully decided Charlie was cool. Niffty was going to have to work hard to hide this fact. It won’t matter either way. Alastor could sense it miles away and groaned internally. He’s not really relevant though. Pumpkins though? RELEVANT!

Charlie did notice when more pumpkin guts got tossed in her bowl. Looking up she sees Niffty gutting a small pumpkin. She smiles and decides to take this as an opportunity to try and finally get through to Niffty about redemption.

~~2 HOURS LATER~~

All the pumpkins were gutted and cleaned. Pumpkin seeds separated from orange gunk. The prep tools are put away and the decorating tools are out. And Niffty was definitely staying in Hell.

“I love the jack-o-lanterns, Charlie,” Niffty said cradling one, “Where do we hide them?”

“We don’t hide them, we are going to place them for everyone to see them! But we need to decorate them first.” Charlie smiled, “Niffty, listen carefully because you are going to love this part.” Charlie showed Niffty the design guidebooks and how to freehand the art and explained which knives did what.

Niffty looked at all the fun little knives and looked up at Charlie, “You really are a princess.”

Charlie felt like she was going to cry, and so she did for a minute. Once she looked back she saw an orange slush puddle where the example pumpkin once sat.

“I think I stabbed it too much Charlie.” The princess of hell just smiled and said reassured Niffty it was alright and she could try again.

Charlie had barely finished her first pumpkin’s little cat whiskers when she saw that only four pumpkins remained. She sighed and grabbed her next pumpkin. She figured Niffty would burn through the last three before she would finish up her little spider but she was surprised to see all three still there.

She looked over to Niffty and saw her playing with a couple of chunks of pumpkin walls. Whittling away at them. Charlie was getting tired at this point and grabbed another pumpkin and made a regular old big scary smiling face.

Charlie heard the door open and was very happy to see Vaggie walking over to her.

“Sorry I am so late babe,” Vaggie said followed by a yawn.

“It’s okay, Niffty was helping me,” Charlie explained.

Vaggie looked much more awake now, suddenly looking around at the orange coating the yard, “I can see that sweetie,” She kissed Charlie on the cheek, “How did that go?”

“Great.” Charlie started on the second to last pumpkin and Vaggie took last place. They quietly worked on the last two, both making a happy pumpkin. Charlie was in a hurry and finished hers so quickly she forgot to carve out one of the eyes as she rushed to find a nice spot in the yard for it.

Vaggie wondered if Charlie did it on purpose. She looked at the other pumpkins for evidence but knowing Charlie it could be either way. Vaggie kept working on her intentional little goat horns she opted to carve out. She had time. Charlie needed to know someone was helping her on this project.

“Where did Charlie go?” Niffty asked Vaggie.

“She’s putting the Jack-o-lanterns where they are going to go.”

“I wanna pick where mine goes!”

Vaggie was trying to focus so brushed her off a bit, “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Niffty ran off with her Jack-o-lantern searching for the perfect place. She circled the building three times before ruling out all options and bolting inside almost knocking over Vaggie and Charlie as they placed Vaggie's next to Charlie’s happy pumpkin.

Niffty ran passed the living room through the kitchen and dining room before seeing it. the perfect place! Right on Husk’s bar.

Angel and Cherri had been sitting at the bar drinking with Husk when Niffty placed her creation right in front of the three of them. Husk and Angel started laughing immediately.

“Niff, you are gonna scare him right out of the fucking hotel if he sees this,” Husk warned, while moving it to a safer spot near the end of the bar.

“Aw, whiskers! Look! This is the most cute thing she has ever done. Like she’s don't some freaky shit for bad boys before-”

Cherri chimed in, “OH, remember when she took fur from that fuck head’s coat?”

“Val? Yeah, that was his wings.” Angel corrected.

“Yeah, well this bitch made a cute little head of an effigy.”

“what's an-” Niffty was cut off.

“What is that?” Baxter asked walking up to the bar. “Is that me?” He couldn’t look away.

“YES! I made a Baxter-lantern!” Niffty pulled him into a hug. He stood transfixed. This was the most stalker thing he had ever seen. No movie, book, true crime, or fictional, on earth or in hell. This was nightmare fuel for monsters. The type of thing people swear they would not wish on their worst enemy.

Why was he weirdly into it?

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zeestarfishalien · 8 months ago

Text

My Graveyard Song Ch. 14

(Totally got distracted and forgot to post this to tumblr. It's been up on ao3 for a few days now)

[Masterpost]

Jason looked at the two empty bowls and one empty plate of food Danny had polished off and promptly decides to take him to Rosa Lee’s Diner. They always serve extra large portions of food that stands up to even Alfred’s high standards.

As he urges Spooky into one of the jackets left by his siblings, he shoots a text off to Cass.

[BCC plz 4 Spooky u wel 2 IOU 1 🏠🍝 ur chc]

By the time Cass gets there, Danny is starting on his third plate. Mind you, she got here in under half an hour and Danny is not in fact a speedster, but at the rate Danny is going, Bruce is certainly going to think someone fed a speedster.

Jason is really not sure where all this food is going. By all rights, his spooky friend should be on the verge of exploding from eating more than his body weight in food.

Even the waitstaff are watching this little meta-looking kid down pounds and pounds of food.

Cass passes Jason an unmarked black credit card and sits next to him in order to better watch Danny scarf down his waffles.

Five minutes later when their waiter swings by, Jason orders a platter of beignets and Danny orders Rosa Lee’s own personal special, a breakfast that comes with four slices of ham, a mountain of cheesy scrambled eggs, two pancakes, four breakfast sausage links, two biscuits, and an apple turnover.

At this point, the waiter doesn’t even blink, just asks if he’d like anything to add or substitute.

He asks for 3 extra pancakes.

By the time he's halfway through his stack of pancakes -the last thing left of his Rosa Lee Special- it dawns on Jason, that maybe Danny shouldn't be eating this much when he hasn't eaten regular human food in a long time.

But then again, what does he know? The world is a great big mysterious place and you cannot treat every humanoid looking being by the limitations of humans.

Danny is watching him now, an openly curious look on his face. There's a question in the air between them, even Cass picks up on it.

Carefully slow, Danny sets down his fork and finishes chewing the bite in his mouth.

"You're worried," he croaks, tapping his index finger on the table to emphasize his words.

He pauses, distracted, and looks down at his hand, repeating the motion of tapping his finger on the table while studying it closely. Jason almost breaks into laughter when Danny’s head tilts in an oddly animal like fashion.

If he needed any other proof that Spooky the dog is Danny the spirit sitting before him, this would do it.

His glowing eyes flick back up to Jason.

"Amused," he rasps out barely above a whisper. There's still that unspoken question in the air.

It finally clicks. The emotions Danny is naming are Jason’s. The question he wants to know is 'why'.

"I wasn't sure if you could get sick from overeating. Humans need to ease back into eating normal amounts but you're not human so I don't know what standard to hold you to."

Danny nods absently, his finger tap tap tapping away on the table.

"Hard to say," he says finally. His voice still sounds like gravel, not unlike Cass' own voice.

"Ecto fills in gaps. A temporary fix. Rebuilding with the right stuff now." He gestures vaguely to the empty plates stacked on their table. "Ecto is fast. I'm probably fine."

"Sorry," Jason half mumbles. "I just worry."

All movement from Danny freezes, like someone pressed pause on the TV. His eyes go wide in realization and alarm.

"Jazz..."

Jason blinks and then it hits him with the speed and force of a freight train.

"Oh shit! Jazz!" He scrambles for his phone. "Do you remember anything else about her that might help?!"

~•~

Bill would like everyone to know that he works very hard to be a good hench person.

He's not dumb. Now he may not be book smart like half the big baddies in Gotham, but he's not dumb.

He would have died long ago if that were the case. He's worked for the Red Hood for a couple years now —it's one of the best decisions he's ever made; the guy knows how to treat his hench people. What more can Bill say?— and he's avoided asking questions just like with all his hench jobs before this.

But he'd really like to ask one now that he's stuck watching years worth of security footage...

What even constitutes suspicious activity in a cemetery?

Now most people would automatically say, graverobbing, but Big Red is a Gotham native. In Gotham, no one is buried with their valuables, not unless your grave is in a super secret spot. Gothamites can smell money and anytime there's a possibility of it, people will dig up the grave in question.

Hell, the cops don't even stop for it anymore, they just keep on rollin' even if it's happening right before their eyes.

Point is, graverobbing can't be the suspicious behavior he's supposed to look for, but Bill really isn't sure what exactly does quantify as suspicious behavior to Big Red.

Everything here has been run of the mill, graverobbing, teen/young adult vandalism, or drug deals.

Yes, he considers goth teens/young adults having sex in a cemetery as vandalism too. Vandalism on his eyes, if nothing else.

He hits pause on a big white van and rubs his eyes tiredly. Perhaps it's time to call it a night. He's losing focus, getting caught up in his own thoughts.

His hand hovers over the mouse about to drag it over to close out of the program when his brain catches up to what his eyes are seeing.

The van, big, white, armored...

Now that IS unusual. Black or gray vans are the favored colors in Gotham and anyone, who knows anything about Gotham, knows that you NEVER armor up a suspicious color and type of vehicle. Not if you don't want the cops and vigilantes breaking down your door.

He can just make out two people in bright colors inside the van. They're grainy but not grainy enough for Bill to doubt the color of their outfits.

It's too bright for any regular gothamite. The only people in this city who dress like that are the big shot villains and their cronies.

The two disappear into the cemetery, out of sight of the camera with tools in hand. He scans forward a few hours (less time than he expected honestly) and slows back to normal speed just in time to watch them unload what seems to be some sort of coffin, except it's metal with glowing lines and patterns on it.

He pauses the video again and with elbows resting upon the desk he presses clasped hands against his mouth to muffle his sigh.

Well, if that doesn't constitute suspicious activity then Bill will hand in a letter of resignation and go flip burgers.

Well...time to let the boss know.

Yall thought I made up the part where Bill the Henchman comes in, but I definitely, absolutely had this planned from the beginning. [Lying]

Okay, gonna be honest, I may have had a plan for Bill, but it either was lost in the shuffle or there never actually was a plan for scenes with Bill. Considering I can only sometimes keep my dream memories from mixing with my awake memories, any hope of recovering any potential memories is nigh on impossible.

HOWEVER

I can always make new plans. AND I HAVE! So yes, we have Bill now and I'm going to pretend like this was planned all along.

Oh yeah! So Jason’s text at the beginning says: Black credit card please, for Spooky. You are welcome too. I owe you one homemade meal, your choice.

Also can you imagine being a vigilante? Bc you have at least 10 very important things you have to juggle on just an average Tuesday. This is not including sudden family disasters like a family member getting trapped in a burning building and having to go save them, plus more wild revelations about your funky supernatural roomie. So like, cut a guy some slack, I know I'd be floundering some days. Attempting to prioritize must really be a bitch some days. Just...oof...

#my graveyard song #dpxdc #dcxdp #church grim danny #black dog danny au #jason is doing his best okay?#and look! he delegates things!!!

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

Note

HEYYY🤪who ever requested y/n bratting off to toji is a blessing fr.🙏🏼 Can you also do the same thing but fluff edition. If the post is gone, dont worry about it. Love your writing!!

No worries, noonie, bc I made sure to save the fluff version as a Word doc if needed, lol. But here ya go, hope ya enjoy and tysm!!:)

Reminder: This is a sfw/fluff version of this thirst!

Cw: Toji x reader - fluff!! - pet names (baby, kid/kiddo) - implied that reader is shorter than Toji - first, the reader is sour, but then they're sweet :) - Toji calls you a 'bitch' but not in a belittling way, just frustrated with your antics - lots of humor bc we love making this man suffer, lol - the reader gives him a scare hiding from him (again, make him suffer! but he's hella worried about you so </3) - angst(?) - reader being a brat and Toji being a grumpy bf = a perfect couple ♡ Wc: 2.4k

It's late in the night, WAY past the midnight hour. The streets are quiet, people are home sleeping, and the air is curtained in a cool mist from rain not too long ago.

And yet here you are, in an open grocery store skimming through the fruits section. You pick up a bag of apples and examine them before placing them back down, moving on to the next aisle.

Behind you, the squeaky wheels of the shopping cart follow your every step, driven by your boyfriend — Toji.

The two of you had left a movie theater to see a movie you'd been anticipating seeing, which only had seating at the last showing of its week — 12:30 a.m. The runtime was two hours and thirty minutes, so it wasn't to your surprise that the plaza was utterly empty by the time it ended. Although you're happy you got to see the movie, you made a mental note to get tickets earlier next time.

Suddenly, you realize you forgot to grocery shop, and most nearby stores are closed. But after many trips around the neighborhood, you've finally found a store open for twenty-four hours.

So here you are, scoping around the aisles to pick up things and check them off your list. Now all there's left is the toilet paper, which would be right on the top shelf...that you can't reach.

You turn to your side to see your boyfriend looking down at his phone. Well, he's no help. With a sigh, you place your phone inside your pocket and try to carefully reach for the toilet paper, stepping on the lower shelves and being mindful not to step on any of the items below.

Toji notices something up when he glances up at you trying to climb up to get something from the top shelf. Putting his phone in his jean jacket, he comes around and hovers over you while grabbing for the toilet paper. You watch, and you shake your head at him. Damn, tall people...Hold on. An idea pops inside your head, and a grin molds onto your lips.

"Hey!" You call out to the man before he puts the item at the bottom of the cart. "I was getting that."

"I know, but y'r lil legs and arms weren't getting you any far, baby." He sends you a sly smirk, causing you to take offense to his comment.

Oh, two can play this game, Mister..."Put it back."

His brows crease together. "What?"

"Put it back up there," you repeat yourself to the man and point at the top shelf. His confused expression is still present when he hesitantly does what you instruct him. "And then pick me up to get it."

He looks at you like you're crazy. "What kind of shit are you on?"

You giggle. "Oh, come on, Toji. I was trying to get it, so I wanna do it."

"You could barely touch it."

"Not unless I have my trusty, tall boyfriend to help me, so pick me up!" You lift your arms for your waist to be open for grabs, and Toji just stares at you. With a heavy sigh and a scrunched expression, he lifts you up effortlessly, and you happily take the toilet paper he just put back up.

You beam at him once you're put down, and the older man has never rolled his eyes so fast. "Actin' like a damn kid."

Your tone is matter-of-fact as you put the item under the cart: "You call me a kid all the time, so I gotta uphold the title. Okay, that should be everything from my list, so let's get the other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

"Yeah, like sandwich meat, chips, and juice for Tsumiki and Megumi. They're going swimming with their friends tomorrow, and they need lunch to take with them."

Toji crosses his arms, examining you walk past him with the cart. "I suppose you're the one paying for all that."

"I'm absolutely...not," you don't have to turn around to know the man behind you has his jaw dropped. "I'm paying for the things on my list, and you pay for the other stuff."

"And what makes you think I'd pay? I already paid for the dinner and the tickets for the damn movie."

"Yes, indeed you did. But guess what, I'm using my money for my things. So, Toji dearest, it's only right that you pay for the things for your children." You peek behind you to see your boyfriend throw daggers at you with emerald eyes. Your smile only grows. "What kind of father would you be if you don't care for those angels?"

Toji just groans and mumbles curses under his breath. "They're only angels when you're around, ya damn brat..."

The two of you head to the snack aisle, the right side harboring a massive assortment of chips. You stop the cart when you spot a brand of chips you remember is a favorite in the Fushiguro household. The only problem is that the flavor you're looking for — which is on the bottom shelf — is nearly empty, meaning the last few are further in the back.

"Hey, Toji," The named man comes from behind, resting his chin on your head. "Those chips down there, ya think there could still be some in the far back?"

"Mmm," His broad chest vibrates against your back from his gruff hum. "Probably."

"Mind getting them for me."

"....Why can't you get it?"

"Because I told you to get it. Besides," you bring up your hands with two fingers up to air quote your following sentence. "I don't think my 'lil arms and legs' will get me far."

Toji's quiet for a few moments, and you bite your lip to not laugh. But it's no use when he flicks your ear before leaving your side, giggles fake cries of pain exiting your lips. "Fuckin' bitch."

"I heard that!"

"Good." You blow a raspberry at him as he groans, kneeling to the floor, and crouches to put his head under the shelf. The image of your brawny man squeezing through the racks is a rarity, and you can't laugh because you know he'll kill you once he gets back up. So, with silent quickness, you grab your smartphone, take a picture, and swiftly put it back in your pocket. You chuckle to yourself in accomplishment. That's for calling me a bitch, you bastard.

The man comes up with a bag of chips in hand, the exact flavor you were looking for. However, "Woah, woah, woah, that's not the right size."

"What are you on about this time?"

"I always get the family-size. That's just the regular one."

"Yeah, so?"

"So?" The older man is visibly vexed that you repeat after him, yet you continue. "Toji, I know you're gonna snack on those later, but I'm gonna use it to pack lunch for the kids. And judging by how small the packaging is, that's not gonna last for the entire week — let alone three days. Miki and Megs aren't gonna like you for that. Go get the family-size pack."

"They don't have it down here; it's just this!"

"Well, what are you gonna do? Buy three more bags...Oh."

Toji notices you spot something that puts your thoughts aside, so he follows your line of sight to the top shelf. As you described earlier, family-sized chips were stationed at the very top, unlike at the bottom stand where they usually are.

All you can do is smile sheepishly at Toji when you two glance at each other, the older man giving you the heaviest glare you've ever received. "If you ask me to pick you up again, I'm throwin' ya up there and leavin' you til next time."

"Don't bother. I'm going to get the sandwich meats." You turn away from him and the cart to hide your laughs and head to the deli aisle. "You stay right there. I'll be right back."

"Hmph, whatever." The man grabs the right size of chips and chucks them into the cart. And then he leans against the shelves, waiting for your arrival so you two can finally leave the store.

One minute pasts. Then two...Three....Four.....Five—What the fuck!?

There's no way the store is that big for you to find the deli aisle. It's nearly been six minutes, and you have yet to return to the snack aisle! Toji can only wonder what it is that's taking you so damn long. They probably saw somethin' cute and will ask me to get it for 'em. Hmph, like hell. Or maybe they don't have the sandwich meats they're lookin' for and are tryin' to find something else to substitute. Or they could be lost, who knows.

But the more he thinks, his thoughts delve into darker reflections. And if they're lost, would they run into someone for help? What if that person doesn't work here, talking to a damn stranger. What if that bastard is making them uncomfortable? Taking advantage of them. Or worse: a kidnapping.

Dread corrupts all of Toji's senses when his mind wanders to the worst scenarios, but he can't help it when you haven't returned to him. There's already one person he's lost in his life, and he wouldn't want to lose you too. That's why he straightens himself up and ditches the cart full of your stuff to find you for himself. Because if you aren't in this store right now, things will start to get ugly.

He storms out of the aisle, looking around to assess the parameter. Deep breaths don't seem to calm him down, as the dry bob in his throat makes it difficult to swallow. He looks up to see the signs for every aisle. Deli...Where the hell is—

That thought grinds to a halt when he hears footsteps approach from behind. So Toji turns around with haste, grabbing the pocket knife always kept in his jean pocket.

However, he doesn't pull the defensive weapon out. Instead, his tense physique relaxes, and a wave of relief soothes him down back to Earth. Because the footsteps belonged to you. You were okay.

"Damn, you and your freaky senses! I was hiding behind that bread rack over there and waiting for you to turn around so I could surprise you. Hehe, but I can see you must've—Ow, ow, ouch!!!"

Unlike before, genuine cries of pain fly out your mouth when Toji pinches your cheeks, twisting them so hard that you scream louder the tighter the grip. He doesn't let go until you step on his foot, and even then, the hurtful wails are replaced with laughter.

"You absolute fucking brat." You try to cover your giggles with your hands, but the irritated expression on Toji's face makes it difficult to keep your composure. "Over here tryin' to scare me and shit when I'm wondering what the hell's takin' you so damn long. Not even my own damn kids give me this much trouble."

"Oh shit, pfffthaha. At lea-At least I—wheeze," You're trying so hard to look your boyfriend in the eye, but God was you in hysterics. Tears prickle, and you slowly reveal some packaged items in your hands. "At least I got the sandwich meat."

Toji swiftly snatches the deli products off your grasp, causing you to laugh even harder to the point of your stomach hurting and your eyes forced shut. But that doesn't stop the man from pulling you to the unattended cart by the back of your neck, caging you between him and the handlebar.

But no matter, because you still laugh walking down the aisle with him. You still laugh at the self-checkout. And you still laugh when putting the groceries in the trunk of Toji's car and placing the cart in the corral.

Even when you sit in the passenger seat, chuckles fill the silence and one-sided tension. You peer to Toji's side to see him harbor a scowl while facing the windshield, downright avoiding you. "Oh, come on, Toji, it was just a little prank. You gotta admit it was kinda funny!"

He shakes his head, eyes still honed in front of him.

"What? Oh, so you're not gonna talk to me?"

Nothing.

"Are you serious? Toji, it wasn't even that big of a deal. Were you worried about me for real—"

"Yeah, kid." Now he looks at you; his forest-green orbs capture yours as if luring you to listen to what he's saying. "I was fuckin' worried about you. Thought somethin' bad happened or...whatever, forget it." Toji lets a heavy sigh exit his system, resting his head on his hand.

And you just watch him, not bothering to say a word back. It doesn't take long for you to understand where he's coming from because you're already beating yourself about it with the uneasy silence between you two.

You know about Toji's loss — his late wife, Megumi's mother. You don't know too much about her passing. However, you're enormously aware of how significant a toll the loss took on Toji. It took him a long time to even consider dating again and putting a label on your relationship.

So now that he's with you, it's easy to understand that he doesn't want you getting hurt and anything dreadful happening on your end.

And yet, acting like a child isn't making things any better.

You silently exhale and hesitantly set a hand on the one lying still on his thigh. You notice his head turn in your direction from the sudden contact, but you don't address it, just leaning on him with your head on his shoulder. Toji lets you do so.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry like that." You say to him, your eyes on your hand rubbing on the back of his. "Just wanted to act silly with you, is all. Didn't want to scare you."

"Who told you to act silly?"

"Uhh, me? 'Cause it's like 3 a.m., just the two of us. And it's the weekend."

You can feel the rise and fall of his shoulder following the sigh he lets out through his nose. Toji then removes his hand from you and puts it on your shoulder to keep you close. "You can be a pain in the ass, ya know that, kiddo?"

"Yeah, yeah. But I know you love me for it~." You move to happily kiss him on the cheek.

"Yeah, sure." He kisses your temple and rests his head on yours. The two of you indulge in the comfortable silence of the car for a few minutes, relinquishing each other's presence before driving home. "Just be a lil' more careful, 'kay, baby?"

"Mmm, promise."

...

But you're still gonna make that picture you took of Toji your wallpaper. It's a true gem. Plus, it's what you get for calling me a bitch.

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authornoona · 2 years ago

Text

The Look || LMH (18+)

Do not repost, translate or claim as your own!

Pairing: Lee Know (Minho) x GN! Reader Genre: Smut Request: Yes Word Count: 4k

Tags//Warnings: reader has a mild panic attack, mentions of throwing up but never actually doing it, dom!minho, sub!reader, hair pulling, oral (m. and gn. receiving), fingering, praise, degradation, name calling, dirty talk, aftercare

Summary: You're a new photographer who's first assignment is to accompany your boss to an interview with Stray Kids. Minho stares at you with a hungry gaze and asks you to meet him in the bathroom... Sexy times ensue.

Notes: This is just pure smut, honestly! Written for my best friend who is whipped for this man. Let me know if I accidentally forgot to tag something or used any gender-specific terms anywhere, please! Minors DNI.

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

That’s it, I’m going to puke. Why did I ever think I was capable of handling this job? You fiddled with the hemline of your shirt, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable with the way it clung to your torso as you followed your new boss along the winding back hallways of the arena. Your professional camera hung around your neck, swinging back and forth with every step, weighing down your neck. It had only been two months since your college graduation, yet you had found yourself landing a permanent spot at one of the biggest journalism organizations in Seoul.

And this was your first assignment- accompanying your boss, top interviewer Lee Hyukjae, to the dressing rooms of one of the biggest boy groups of the moment… Stray Kids. You recalled how your jaw had dropped in the car when Hyukjae told you who you were driving to take pictures of and the way he had laughed at your immediately flushed face. But you couldn’t help it! Hyukjae had only given you a fifteen minute car ride to prepare for an assignment as big as this and that was definitely not enough. You had been a fan of Stray Kids from their debut and though you knew it could certainly be a possibility one day, you just hadn’t dared to dream you would interact with them so early on in your career!

“Come now, Y/N, we don’t want to keep them waiting. They have a show to do in a few hours, after all.” Hyukjae smirked, clearly still amused by the inner turmoil made evident on your delicate features. You worried your bottom lip and nodded, picking up the pace. Turning one last corner, you found yourself in front of two giant white doors. A sign hung on the door reading “Dressing Room” in Hangul and you felt your lunch start to come up again but you (thankfully) pushed it back down and followed your boss through the entrance.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the insanely gorgeous features of each individual member sitting before you, each person donning a gentle smile as they sat in their tour merch. Well, all except one- Lee Minho, otherwise known by his stage persona, Lee Know. He wasn’t smiling at all; in fact, he almost looked rather disinterested. That is, until he made eye contact with you. The room began to spin and you willed yourself to breathe deeply as you crouched beside Hyukjae’s chair, deciding to focus on the task at hand instead of the pair of eyes you could feel boring into the side of your skull. And it almost worked- the pictures you were getting of the group members were really good, every one of the members having a couple of devastatingly handsome moments as they answered your boss’s questions and you felt proud as you showed them to Hyukjae during your brief break in the process.

“These are great, Y/N! The editors will have a hard time picking out their favorites. Though I can’t help but notice… You don’t have any individual shots of Lee Know. I know he isn’t speaking much, but his fans will be very disappointed if we don’t have a couple so could you focus on him a little more when we start back up again?” His question had the tips of your ears turning red again but you just nodded and sighed, watching your boss walk over to the water cooler to talk with the group’s leader, Bang Chan.

How am I supposed to get good shots of Lee Know when he’s looking at me like he hates my very existence? You thought to yourself, removing your camera and rolling your neck to try to ease the pain in your muscles while you watched the chaotic antics of the boy group before you. Felix was getting his hair touched up while Hyunjin sang at him, Han was jumping around and making the maknae, I.N, laugh and Changbin was over in the corner of the room with Seungmin eating snacks. No sign of the man occupying your thoughts. He must’ve gone to the bathroom or something.

Without warning, Han accidentally bumped into you and sent your camera flying. It was like the next few moments happened in slow motion; you heard Han beside you apologizing profusely as your camera made contact with Lee Know’s incredibly sturdy chest. Thankfully, it seemed his reflexes really were as good as their fandom claimed and he caught the equipment with a puzzled expression. You let out the breath you had been holding in and waved Han off, forgiving him for the incident before steeling your nerves and moving toward the intimidatingly gorgeous blonde still holding your prized possession.

Lee Know was staring at the camera as you approached and you could see that he had started looking through the pictures on your SD card while you had been speaking to Han. He was flipping through the pictures with an odd look on his face, almost… disappointed? He must have felt your presence and began to speak, an eyebrow raised.

“There aren’t any of me.” Dark brown eyes locked onto yours and rendered you speechless, embarrassed that he had seen the flaw in your otherwise perfect shots. Your cheeks burned and he smirked, running a hand through his soft locks. “What? Am I not pretty enough?”

You began to stammer in objection but his chuckle cut through your words, sending a shiver down your spine. He lowered his voice and stepped closer so that only the two of you could hear the sentence he uttered next:

“And here I thought I was giving you the best ‘fuck me’ eyes I could.”

And oh, that had your gut curling and your pulse quickening, eyes rolling back as you shuddered involuntarily. Lee Know shut off your camera and placed it back around your neck, pulling it gently towards himself as he whispered, “Meet me in the bathroom around the corner after this.”

He released you, sauntering back to where the rest of the members were regrouping with Hyukjae diving back into his questions. You took a moment to collect yourself before resuming your position beside your boss. This time, you allowed yourself to stare at Lee Know through the lens of your camera and really look at his features. He was tall and slender, but his arm muscles were showing underneath the black sleeves of his t-shirt. He had the prettiest pink pout, parted just enough that you could see his cute little bunny teeth behind his lips and you suddenly had the strongest urge to ruin them. The feeling caught you off guard and you let out the faintest gasp, humiliated when his gaze found yours through the lens.

He smirked and you captured it with a click of a button, knowing that look paired with the smoldering gaze in his eye was sure to knock his fans out. You couldn’t help the pleased warmth that spread throughout your skin; that look may knock his fans out, but it was for you. Your lips curled into a gentle smile behind your equipment and Lee Know’s face twitched, the hunger evident on his face as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. His tongue darted out quickly to wet his bottom lip and you captured that behind your lens as well. You were no longer focusing on the rest of the group- your mind too preoccupied with Lee Know, Lee Know, LEE KNOW.

Before you realized it, the interview was over and you had taken pictures of no one but the blonde. It was slightly embarrassing but you knew you could write it off as being determined to get good shots of the vocalist since you had neglected him in the beginning… Though, you knew Hyukjae would probably see through that but oh well. You watched Lee Know say something to Bang Chan before he started to walk in the direction of the bathroom he had mentioned- you had seen it on your way in earlier. Hyukjae was packing up beside you, asking if you were ready to go so the group could finish preparing for their concert that would be starting in an hour but you paid him no mind.

“Actually, I need to use the restroom. You can go on without me… I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.” You bit your lip awkwardly, hoping he wouldn’t try to protest and make you leave with him. Though he did cock an eyebrow at you in suspicion, Hyukjae just shrugged and said goodbye, filling you with relief. You fiddled with your camera for a moment longer than necessary and hyped yourself up to meet the idol waiting for you. You took a few deep breaths and started walking in the same direction Lee Know had disappeared in prior. The rest of the group paid you no mind while they sat getting their hair and makeup touched up or played on their phones on the plush couches near the entrance. You were thankful for that; it would have been really embarrassing to explain to any of his teammates what you were doing hanging back without your boss now that the interview was finished.

You lightly knocked on the bathroom door, breath catching in your throat as the idol quickly opened it and pulled you inside, caging you against the wood and locking the door with a click! His big biceps flexed beside your head, cutting off your peripheral vision so that you were forced to look up into his gorgeous eyes. Your lips parted slightly with a huff of awe and he smirked again, leaning closer and making your heart race.

“I’m glad you decided to follow me, baby. What an obedient little slut you are for me.” Your cheeks lit aflame at the kind and harsh names being used back to back, the duality of the singer’s words arousing you more than you ever had been before.

“Look at you, so ready for me to wreck you already huh?” He knew exactly what he was doing to your brain and you were more than willing to let him do it. “What’s your name, baby? I need to know what name to moan out later when I’m inside you.”

Never would you have imagined the idol before you would have such a filthy mouth but you were not complaining in the slightest! You knew his fans joked that he had to be dominant in the bedroom but to see it up close and have it directed at you was another beast entirely. Your lips moved slowly, trying to form your name and failing because of how turned on and desperate you already were. Lee Know clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head in disappointment and pulling back slightly.

“Oh baby, are you already so dumb for my cock that you can’t use your words? That’s no good; I haven’t even touched you yet. What a desperate-”

“Y/N-” You cut him off, finding your voice and shocking the both of you with the volume in which you spoke. He was right though; you already sounded so desperate and wrecked and he hadn’t laid a single finger on you. The realization was enough to make you want to sink to your knees before him to show him just how good you could be and how much you deserved the cock he seemed to be so proud of.

“Y/N.” He repeated, gaze softening slightly as he pushed your hair back gently. “A perfect name for a perfect slut.” You nodded, leaning needily into the touch as your eyes rolled back with desire.

“Please,” You whimpered softly, earning a low moan from the blonde. You weren’t entirely sure what you were pleading for, but Lee Know seemed to understand. He removed your camera from your neck and curled his fingers into the hair he held, pulling back harshly before slowly pushing you to your knees before him. He kept his hand gripped firmly in your hair and started to undo the button on his dark jeans with the other, pulling the zipper down at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Lee Know, please.” You whispered, feeling drool start to gather at the corners of your mouth. Your head was spinning with desire and you could feel yourself starting to slip into subspace. Which was terrifying considering you knew nothing about the man in front of you. You could feel the panic starting to tighten your throat and tears cling to your lashes, threatening to spill over. Lee Know, being the ever-observant person he was, sensed the shift in your demeanor and crouched down to look into your eyes once again.

“Hey, Y/N? Sweetheart, look at me?” You tried to follow his directions but the tears were blurring your vision and your head felt fuzzy. However, Lee Know remained calm and soothingly moved his hand from your hair to your back, rubbing small circles into it. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Breathe in and out. There you go.”

The tightening in your chest began to dissipate with his words and you started to come back to reality. Lee Know gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek before pulling you into a hug. What a sight the two of you must have made- an idol and a photographer, kneeling on the floor of an arena bathroom enveloped in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” He finally breathed out. You chanced a look at his face, noting the worry etched behind every feature. Your heart sunk and you shook your head aggressively.

“No! You have nothing to be sorry for, Lee Know.” It was the first time you had addressed him by name out loud and his eyes widened before he let a small smile grace his lips.

“Please, Y/N, call me Minho.” For some reason, that felt like the most intimate thing he had said to you thus far and you felt your heart flutter in response.

“Okay, Minho,” You corrected yourself. “I want this, I do. I just… I guess I wasn’t prepared for how much I was going to want it until we had started and it scared me a little. But I want to continue.”

You looked him in the eyes to show your sincerity, heart pounding in anticipation. He bit the inside of his cheek in contemplation for a second, the air between the two of you tense with a mixture of fear of rejection and intense desire. Suddenly he was moving back toward you again, capturing your lips with his in a deep kiss and you sighed contentedly. Your bodies melded together as if made for each other. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you immediately allowed him entrance, wet muscles dancing together in perfect synchronization.

“Minho…” You moaned against his lips, his hands tangling in your hair to pull back gently. He seemed to be taking his time now, starting to kiss and suck his way from your jaw to your collarbones as your eyes closed with pleasure. He growled threateningly and pushed your head back up, biting into your skin harshly. You gasped from the mixture of pain and ecstasy and he licked the wound before kissing you headily once again.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want you to take in every little detail of what I’m doing to you.”

He resumed his ministrations, pushing your shirt up and off of your body so he could continue kissing down your chest and stomach. You couldn’t stop your moans from flowing as you obeyed, watching him pause for a moment when he got to the waistband of your pants. He looked up at you, eyes silently asking once again if you wanted to continue and you nodded fervently. You didn’t think you could stop at this point even if you were given a billion won to do so. The blonde got down to his stomach and began to slowly- too slowly- pull your pants off of your thighs, tossing them to the side along with your underwear. You sat bare to the idol, face flushed as he sat back to admire the sight before him.

“Beautiful,” He breathed and you thought you would cum on the spot. “What a gorgeous slut I have here, just for me. All ready for me to fuck open on my big cock. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He was doing it again; the back and forth between praise and degradation was getting you back to your subspace, but this time you trusted him to treat you well. You knew he wanted you to answer him with words, so you moaned out shakily and answered.

“Yes Minho, I want your cock so bad! Please- ohhhhh-” You were cut off from the feeling of his mouth on your arousal, tongue immediately darting out to taste you and making you shake under him. The man began to eat you out as if he was starving and you were his favorite meal, adding a finger to your hole without warning.

“God, you feel so fucking good! Don’t stop, please don’t stop- want more, Minho, fuck!” You had never really been comfortable with dirty talk but the way he was hitting every spot perfectly within you made you lose your filter entirely. Minho seemed to really enjoy it and he granted you another finger, scissoring them to ready you for the giant bulge snug tightly in his pants. You could feel the tears forming once again at the corners of your eyes, but this time they were there for the right reasons; Minho was fucking you so good with his long fingers and skilled tongue, having added a third digit to the mix, and you were so desperate for his cock.

“You have such a dirty mouth, love. Maybe we should stuff it with something to stop those filthy words? I’ll bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, little slut?” He pulled back and you whined from the loss but felt yourself twitch when he pulled his pants down just enough to pull his (incredibly large) dick out, pumping it a couple of times before moving beside you and shoving it between your parted lips.

The weight of him on your tongue and his hands back in your hair were heavenly and you let him know just how much you were enjoying it by grabbing his ass and pulling him farther down your throat, taking him to the hilt. He let out a long, low moan in shock and cursed, dick twitching against your tongue as you licked against the underside.

“Ah, fuck, Y/N. Such a good mouth, now I know why everyone passes you around. Want this mouth for myself to use whenever I want. You’d be my personal toy, the best cock-warmer; all your holes just for me to fuck and dump my cum in.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, his words paired with the way he was brutally fucking your throat nearly pushing you over the edge. He must have sensed it, however, as he pulled out a second later and pulled you up to stand with him.

Before you knew what was happening, Minho was grabbing a condom from his back pocket and rolling it onto his length.

“Last chance to say no,” He warned and you just pulled him into another breathtaking kiss as your answer. He growled into your mouth and wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, lifting you against the bathroom wall. You yelped in surprise, circling your legs around his waist and he pressed his tip against your entrance.

“Breathe for me baby.” He murmured into your ear and you did as he commanded, rewarded with his cock as he pushed all the way into your hole in one go. You moaned in tandem, your hole clenching around him deliciously. His tongue tangled with yours again, moving slowly against you to let you get used to the feeling of his dick splitting you apart. It burned slightly, but it was so good that you couldn’t help yourself from coming apart all over him with a long series of moans and curses. He fucked you through it, picking up the pace until he was smashing you brutally against the tiles of the bathroom walls.

“So good for me baby, cumming from just my cock alone. Gonna ruin you, fill you with my cum and make you crave me every time you’re horny. No one else will ever be able to fuck you as good as I do, isn’t that right my little slut? Gonna stop whoring around because you can’t get enough of this dick-”

“Yes! Minho, fuck- I need you- need you to cum in me, make me yours.” You moaned as he bit down hard at the juncture where your neck met your shoulder and his hips stuttered, spilling into the condom inside you with a sound so beautiful you wanted to record it and listen to it on repeat.

“Oh God, Y/N! So good for me baby, feel so good around my cock. Made me cum so much, fuck.” He licked against your neck again, breathing heavily as he pulled out and let you down gently. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly disappointed that the condom prevented him from seeing his load drip out and down your thighs… Maybe next time, he thought as he watched you lean against the wall on shaky legs, trying to catch your breath.

He tucked himself back into his jeans after removing the condom and tossing it in the nearby trash can. Minho grabbed some paper towels and wet them slightly with warm water, holding you steady and wiping off the mess from your body delicately. He wished he had something other than the rough towels but given the circumstances he hoped you would understand. You were so fucked out, all you could do was whimper as he helped pull your underwear and pants back on.

“You really did so well for me, Y/N.” He spoke softly against your ear, as if he was afraid you were about to run off. You just pulled him into an embrace and tucked your face into his neck as he began to pepper kisses atop your head. “I meant what I said, by the way- about wanting to make you mine.” You pulled back to look into his eyes with wonder, thanking every deity possible for the sincerity you saw there.

“I would really love that, Minho.” You smiled, pulling your phone from your bag to hand to him as he gave you his as well. You exchanged numbers and replaced your camera around your neck, surprised when Minho tugged on the strap slightly.

“Shame we didn’t get to use this. Next time, yeah?” And you felt your heart leap into your throat, butterflies fluttering in your stomach from his words. He chuckled at your dumbfounded expression and kissed you sweetly one last time before excusing himself to finish getting ready for the concert happening in… about fifteen minutes. You remained in the bathroom for a few more seconds, making sure he would be long gone before anyone saw you exiting behind him when your phone suddenly dinged!

Master Minho: Can I take you to lunch tomorrow?

Master Minho: I know a really good restaurant by

the dorm we can eat at.

Master Minho: And then we can go back to my

room and eat each other out for

dessert.

He was going to be the death of you and yet, you somehow couldn’t find the will to care. You beamed brightly at your phone, agreeing to meet him before texting one more person on your way home.

You: Hyukjae, I’m gonna need to take

a long lunch tomorrow.

Boss: ???

You: Just have something hard to take

care of, but I’ll be back asap!

Boss: You know…

Boss: I’m sorry I asked.

Boss: Just make sure you look

presentable when you get back.

You: I-

You: Yeah, okay. I will.

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

Well, that's my first Tumblr fic finished! I hope you all enjoyed it. If you have any requests, make sure to read my request rules here.

#stray kids #skz #skz lee know #skz minho #lee know #lee minho #stray kids x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #stray kids smut #fanfic #skz fanfic #skz smut #author noona #kitty noona #my work #oneshot #pwp #mdni

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devisopod · 3 months ago

Text

Levity Creek!

Chapter two

Have I gone over writing rules yet? No. Will I? Probably not right now.

I feel like short chapters are the way to go atm. Maybe if I get really into it I'll make longer posts. For now, this is what we get. Slow buildup, short additions, and objectively boring shit

I don't think anyone's gonna go back and read this but me lmao

______

The road out of Oklahoma and into the next few states was as long and uneventful as I planned for. Flat, long stretches of nothingness, and eventually piss-poor radio signal.

To no real surprise, but my ultimate dismay, it got colder the further north I got. Laughably, I became thankful that my engine acted as a space heater by the time I reached California. The weather back home was nothing like this and I was beginning to wonder if I was even built to withstand this kind of change. Maybe it's dramatic to think that way, but I certainly don't mesh well with temperatures below sixty degrees Fahrenheit. And neither does my van, which I found out very quickly.

Needless to say, I didn't stay in Palo Alto much longer than it took me to get the engine back up to snuff. Though, I left with more cargo than I intended, and boy, was I unprepared for it.

Fiddleford insisted that I pick up Tate on the drive up if I could. That way we could "bond". It was an awkward conversation, but even for a pushover, he has his way of being persistent. That, or I suppose that I'm just a pushover myself, which is a trait I gained and blame him for entirely. Of course, in the end I relented — albeit, reluctantly.

Now, I don't know much about Emma May given that she came along after Fiddleford and I grew apart. Still, she welcomed me like she knew me, and that made me a little less apprehensive about the whole thing. I'll admit, however, that the interaction was somewhat forced on my part, and on hers it seemed. She was distant and didn't appear entirely present in the conversation. Which, naturally, struck me as odd. Here I was, a practical stranger that was taking her son across two states. Yet, she didn't bat an eye. Regardless, I'm not one to pry.

Coming to terms with being an aunt and temporary guardian, my attention drifts back and forth from the road to the kid strapped into a carseat behind the passenger side. He's barely made a sound since I got him settled in. I'm not sure if that's more comforting or less, but I'm leaning toward the latter the further out I get. To give him credit, he's not misbehaving, but a quiet kid doesn't always make a good one.

His hair hangs over his eyes, squished into place by a hat that's arguably too big for his head. I can't even really tell if he's awake or not, and for a while I wonder if he's mute. In all honesty, I just keep looking back to make sure he's actually still there.

Dealing with kids has never been my strong suit — I'm not even adept at interacting with people my age. I was expected to be "bonding" on the way, but over what, exactly? Involuntarily being confined to the same space for the next six hours? The whole thing has me feeling like nothing short of a disappointment. Whether it's to myself, to Tate, or to Fiddleford, I have no idea.

As a result of my uncertainty and overall discomfort, I spend a lot of time in silence the next couple of hours, and so does Tate. In fact, he makes next to no indication of being there at all for the longest time. There were periods that I almost forgot he was with me and I would be lulled into a relaxed state. Those never lasted long. It wasn't until after we passed the state line into Oregon that he sneezed and I nearly sent the van off the road.

Meeting what I could only assume was his gaze in the rear view mirror, I could see that he was uncomfortable, and probably had been for a while. I always was a sucker for a pitiful look, my sympathy knew no bounds, but I never could help it. With a short exhale, I turn off at the next exit and into a gas station lot. The van rolls to a stop in one of the faded spots and grumbles down to a silence once I've pulled out the key. I unbuckle myself and turn in my seat to face Tate more head-on. On top of being snotty, he was holding tight to his thin jacket and crossing his legs. No doubt about it, he was holding it in, and here I was hoping he wasn't still in diapers.

"You gotta use the bathroom?" I prompt gently.

For the first time on the trip so far, he actually responds with a short "Mhm" and a nod.

"Alright," I grunt, pulling myself from the driver's seat and over the doghouse into the back.

I open the side doors and hop out onto the pavement before working to figure out how to unbuckle this poor kid from his seat. I can only imagine he's wondering why I'm having so much trouble as I struggle with each little belt. It's almost embarrassing, really, and it only makes me feel worse when I know he's probably been holding it for the past hour or two. Once I've finally gotten him out, I pluck him from his seat and set him on the ground next to me.

"You stay close, m'kay?" I say, looking down at him curiously while we make our way toward the station.

"'Kay," he answers quietly.

To my surprise, he grabs for my hand and holds onto it tight. Probably an instinctive reaction for him if I had to guess, but it warms my heart anyway.

Yeah, I could be an aunt.

PREV | NEXT

#levity creek #gravity falls au #daphne #oc #self insert #fiddleford mcgucket #tate mcgucket

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alittlextrathatway · 11 months ago

Note

Line: "Show me the places where the others gave you scars." Location: CFD Christmas party.

Alright 5th and final part of the Firehouse 40 AU.

You can find the rest here: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

***

It’s been a while since Matt had an official date to a CFD function. The last time was with Gabby, right before that relationship completely fell apart.

Gabby’s moved on — in her personal life and her career — and so has he, but he forgot how much of a fishbowl the CFD can be. Especially, when a guy walks into a room with Sylvie Brett on his arm. Sylvie Brett in her duty uniform is appealing enough, but Sylvie all dressed up for a holiday party? She’s bound to draw a few slack jawed stares.

When he picked her up, he nearly had a heart attack at the first glimpse of her form fitting holiday red dress. It was low cut, with a neckline that reminded him if the top half of a heart, and thin straps framing her sternum. The way it emphasized her neck and collar bone left him with the urge to lean down and bite the graceful swanlike line her features seemed to draw. The fact that he’s managed to keep that whim to himself is a testament to his self control.

She’s gorgeous to him all the time though, even when returning from a call drenched in unknown substances. The image of her crawling out of the back of 61, just over 24 hours ago, covered in a poor kid’s vomit is fresh in his mind. Her first shift as PIC on 61 didn’t quite go the way she hoped, but she bore it like the consummate professional she’s always been.

That level of proficiency is sexy as hell to him. She faces the ugly stuff head on and never flinches or compromises in her empathy. She’s not only gorgeous on the outside, but the inside too. However, he recognizes he could potentially be biased. It comes from knowing her heart as well as he does, and from being fortunate enough to have spent the last two months sharing space with her at one residence or another.

So, he assumes most of the people in the room are staring because she makes such a striking picture, even when compared to all the festive Christmas decorations that surround them. It’s not until Sylvie quickly directs her gaze down at the floor and squeezes his hand in a vice-like grip that he realizes anything’s wrong.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Um, yes, but I need you to keep standing there, blocking me from view for the moment, and I also need to tell you something I probably should have mentioned by now.” When she looks up at him again, her face is pinched and her eyes are apologetic.

“Okay,” he says, bracing himself for a deep dark secret. Something that might flip the last couple of months on their head.

“You know the CFD Chaplain we’ve had for the last few years?”

“Yeah, Sheffield, right?”

She nods. “That’s him.”

“What about him?”

“Well, uh, we were briefly engaged a few years ago.”

Matt has no idea what to do with that information. “How briefly?”

“Just a month or so — until he suggested I should think about quitting my job once we got married and then I very quickly realized it was never going to work,” she confesses. “I should’ve said something sooner but I just — I mean how do you bring up a failed engagement in casual conversation?”

She bites her bottom lip and stares at him with wary expectant eyes as if she thinks he might blow up at her at any moment.

“Sorry I sprung that on you,” she whispers, her eyes leaving his and widening slightly. “But he’s headed this way and more than a few people in this room know I jilted him so we’re for sure gonna have an audience.”

He wants to tell her not to worry. He has no room to be critical of botched engagements or trying to make it work with someone who simply isn’t the right fit. His entire romantic history is full of those exact same things.

“Sylvie,” the Chaplain greets as he joins them.

“Kyle, hi,” she says with a too bright false smile. “Have you met Matt Casey? He’s a captain over at 51.”

“Your new house,” Kyle states with a nod, turning to offer his hand to Matt. “We’ve met a few times over the years. Haven’t we, Casey?”

“We have, yes,” Matt replies, suddenly remembering a conversation with Sheffield about where to take his new fiancée for her birthday dinner. Matt had given him a couple of suggestions but never followed up on whether or not he had taken them. In light of what Sylvie just revealed to him, he realizes she must have been the fiancée. “Been a while since you dropped in on 51 though.”

And now Matt understands why.

“You’re right. I promise I’ll work on correcting that soon.”

Yeah, he bets he will based on the moon eyes the Chaplain keeps throwing at Sylvie. For her part, Sylvie definitely isn’t returning them. She looks antsy and uncomfortable. Matt tries to imagine running into Gabby tonight and has to rein in a wince. Sylvie doesn’t know about Gabby. He imagines it would be just as awkward as this moment with the chaplain.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Matt says, pointedly threading his fingers through Sylvie’s. “Our chief and his wife are right over there, and Sylvie hasn’t had the chance to meet his wife yet. I don’t want her to miss her window.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Kyle says, stepping aside. “We can all catch up later.”

“Sure,” Sylvie agrees, still holding her blatantly forced smile. “We should definitely do that.”

Like hell they will. He doesn’t care that this man once had a relationship with Sylvie, but he does care about Sylvie’s unease. If she doesn’t want to be around Kyle, then she won’t have to be.

He leads her away from the chaplain, but stops just short of Boden and Donna.

“I am so sorry, Matt,” she immediately begins to ramble. Her nerves exploding to the surface as she talks. “I should have told you, I know, and I’m sure you’re furious with me but I swear I wasn’t trying to hide it. I—“ She cuts herself off when she realizes he’s smiling at her with with warmth and amusement. “Wait, you aren’t mad at me at all, are you?”

“No,” he states, chuckling slightly. “In the grand scheme of things, we haven’t known each other that long. There’s no timetable and learning things about each other.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking owlishly at him. “Okay.”

“And in the interest of full disclosure, you’re not the only one with a failed engagement under their belt,” he reveals, blushing slightly. “Personally, I have two.”

She gasps, eyes bright and full of mirth. “No way. You too?”

Her incredulity cancels out any shock he might have experienced from her news and he finds himself laughing at her. “Sheffield was fiancé number two?”

She nods. When talking about the chaplain she looked more embarrassed than haunted, but this first fiancé was clearly different. Worse. “The first one is why I came to Chicago. At some point I realized I was living his life, not mine. So, I left.”

There’s more to the story than that, he can tell. But she can have her secrets. She’ll tell him when she’s ready. After all, he’s yet to tell her about Hallie. If anything now he knows they both have scars that run deep, deeper than they may appear at first glance. It’ll all come out with time. Something he hopes they have plenty of if he gets his way.

He’s spent two months getting to know her — eagerly filling in the puzzle that is Sylvie Brett. He doesn’t have all the pieces yet but he has enough of them to understand the most vital parts of her. Her good heart, her empathic soul, and her resourceful mind. She impresses him more and more every day and, in truth, there’s no one he’d rather spend every second of his free time with than her.

His hands land on her waist, urging her toward him. She follows his lead, bring her arms up to wrap around his neck. Intentionally, he meets and maintains her gaze. “The guy sounds like an moron,” Matt tells her. “But if he led you here to me then at least some good came from him.”

“It’s funny,” she says, thoughtful expression on her face. “If I had a chance to go back and change anything about my life, you would think I’d use it, wouldn’t you? That I’d use it to spare myself some pain or humiliation or something.” She sighs contentedly, running one of her hands through his hair until it can rest at the nape of his neck. “But I wouldn’t.”

“No?” He asks, curious about where this conversation is headed. “Not at all?”

She shakes her head. “It’s too big of a risk. I mean, change any part of my past and…maybe I don’t find my way to Chicago, the CFD, or you. And I don’t want to imagine my life without you. Not if I can help it.”

The sentiment rocks through him like a seismic shock. It shifts his entire being and sends happiness like he’s never known breaking through the surface. An irrepressible smile overtakes his face and he can’t stop himself from kissing her. It’s a short but firm kiss. Maybe a little deeper than is perhaps decent in a room full of their colleagues, but he doesn’t care. Because in this moment he knows something with as much certainty as he knows the compartments on 81. Backwards, forwards, and with his eyes closed.

“I love you,” he declares. If he doesn’t say it now he’s afraid he’ll come up with a million reasons to chicken out.

Her breathing hitches and for a moment he worries he’s misread their entire relationship, but then the moment passes and she smiles so bright she nearly blinds him. “I — god, Matt. I love you too.”

“You do?” He asks in disbelief. “You really do?”

She nods, smile never faltering. “I really do.”

He kisses her again and this time he doesn’t give a single thought to who’s looking. Sylvie Brett loves him. She picked him. And he’s going to make sure she never regrets it, not for a second. He always wants her to feel as if all their struggles and their broken journeys were meant to bring them together — to believe being with him in the end is worth the pain.

Because that’s what he believes too. The disappointments and the losses hurt a lot less now that he knows they were preparing him for her.

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #matt casey x sylvie brett #furrynachosublime #prompt fic #my fic #angellwings writes

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kaysfanficcorner · 2 years ago

Text

Out of This World Chapter 4:

Smuggler’s Moon

Author’s Note: Welcome everyone! This chapter is one that I’m pretty proud of and I’ve been looking forward to sharing. I had a lot of fun with this one, and sincerely hope you enjoy! A few edits have been made since this was posted, as I realized that I forgot to change something. If you’d like to be added to the Taglist please let me know!

Summary: Things on Nar Shaddaa take a turn, and the Earthling is forced to take matters into her own hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: Cursing, blaster violence, death. This story is strictly 18+

AO3

*****

Spending several hours locked inside the Razor Crest with the little green kid under your charge and your orange feline is nothing new to you by now. After nearly seventy-five days of living on the Razor Crest, its quite the normal routine. You’ve stayed put for all of Mando’s hunts thus far, sometimes for days, so its not a huge deal. What is new to you is the fact that a dangerous alien species might want to eat your brains because you’d agreed to be Mando’s bait. On top of that, you can’t help but feel as if the events over the last couple of days have led to you feeling much closer to the Mandalorian. So your worry for his safety is more at the surface than you’re used to.

Anxious, you find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the open cot when four and a half hours have gone by without a word from your cosmic companion. You’ve been avoiding using the coms to call him for fear of interrupting the hunt, but its getting late. Mando himself said that Smuggler’s Moon is much more dangerous after nightfall, so as soon as the sun sets you feel incredibly perturbed. The beauty of Nal Hutta’s rings in the dark sky isn’t even enough to ease your mind.

Inside the cot, the kid is curled up in your black blanket looking cozy as ever. His facial expression, however, is anything but cozy. Ears cast downward, your nanny child looks up at your pacing with worry in his large eyes and a frown on his little mouth. When you stop to look down at him, he makes a noise of displeasure.

“Yeah I don’t like this either, kiddo.” You agree, eyes flicking to the com-link on your wrist. “I should just call him, right?”

The kid responds with a little babble, and you nod.

“Call him it is,” you say with a sing-song tone of fake cheerfulness. “Hopefully this isn’t a bad time.”

Holding your wrist up in front of your face, you click the call button and a little beeping noise goes off after a second. “Mando?”

“Is everything alright?” Mando’s voice filters through, immediately calming your nerves a little.

“Yeah we’re fine, I was just checking on you.” You say back, sitting down on the edge of the cot while leaning back to run a gentle hand over the kid’s mildly hairy head. “The kid misses you.”

“Just him, huh?” There’s a lightly comedic tone to the Mandalorian’s voice, and you can’t help but think he sounds slightly flirtatious.

“I mean, I guess I do too.” Quipping back with an air of flirtation yourself, you allow yourself a moment to enjoy the feeling this stirs in you. Then you force your voice to grow a little more serious, “It’s getting late, is it sketchy out there?”

Crackling filters through the speaker at first, followed by his voice again, “Nothing I can’t handle, but there’s no sign of the Anzat anywhere. I’m on my way back to the ship now. We can try again tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. Come back home and rest.” You say, content with the knowledge that he’s coming back in spite of your unease with the Anzat being out there somewhere. It won’t occur to you until much later that you’d used the word home to describe the ship.

“Mm,” he responds with a pleasant sounding hum. The com-link makes anther beeping noise, and he’s gone.

About fifteen minutes or so later, the hatch of the Razor Crest opens and the familiar glint of silver heading up the ramp fills your stomach with butterflies and your chest with relief.

The baby coos happily and jumps down from the cot, running on his little legs to meet his foster father as the ramp is closing again. Mando squats down to scoop up the kid in his arms, hugging him to his chest in a fatherly embrace as he stands to full height again.

“Hey buddy. Yeah, I’m back. It’s okay,” Mando soothes as the child nestles into him. Then the helmet turns slightly to fix upon you. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“He’s my top priority,” you say, “but you’re welcome.” Jupiter is circling your legs, so you squat down to pick her up with a chuckle. “Jupiter helped too. I’m pretty sure she loves him more than she loves me at this point.”

The two of you just stand there for a moment, each of you holding your respective well-loved creatures as you stare at one another.

After a beat, Mando sits the kid on a crate and starts to strip himself of his weapons. Letting Jupiter jump from your arms, you move to stand beside him and unstrap the blaster from your thigh before handing it to him to be hung up.

“So am I going out with you again tomorrow?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him.

The Mandalorian nods, hanging your blaster next to his. “If you’re up for it.”

“I am. I saw a few things I’d Ike to check out if I can,” you reply.

“Hungry?” He asks, turning to face you once his weapons are all put away in their proper places.

Holding a hand to your stomach you grin, “Starving.”

“Would you like to assist me? I could show you how to prepare some of the vegetables we bought today.” His voice sounds so lovely, and what he suggests is so domestic that your heart melts a little.

“I’d love that,” you nod, “If I’m being completely honest, listening to you explain stuff is kinda my new favorite thing.”

You’re so sure of yourself up until the words leave your mouth, but once they do you’re feeling slightly bashful all of the sudden. Mando’s very being is doing things to you that you haven’t felt in such a long time. It feels ironically alien, as if you’ve completely forgotten how to act in front of someone you’re attracted to.

But then Mando surprises you with his own words as they mirror yours, and the trepidation in you melts away.

His head tilts in that way that you love so much, “If I’m being completely honest, I enjoy providing you with new information more than you know.”

And so you cook with him, standing shoulder to shoulder in the tiny galley area as he explains some of the meager spices he has on hand. Where each one comes from, what its made of, and what combinations work best together. Then he shows you how to work what is essentially a hot plate that he rigged up himself using spare parts. This ship was not designed for long term living or luxury, it had been designed for military use. So in order to make it livable, Mando has been making little upgrades here or there over the years to make the Razor Crest into a sort of mobile home.

A silly thought crosses your mind while you are thinking about this, eliciting a snort and a laugh from you.

Mando’s head turns from focusing on sautéing the blue tinted broccoli-like vegetable matter, to focusing on you. His body language is some of the most relaxed you’ve seen from him despite where the four of you are and the hunt that still needs to take place.

His baritone chuckle filters through the helmet’s modulator, “What could possibly be funny?”

“I’ve told you about the vehicles we drove on Earth, right?” You ask, still laughing at yourself all the while. He nods, so you continue, “Well some people had these huge vehicles that encompassed very tiny living spaces to make long term travel more comfortable. We called them mobile homes, or RVs. It just occurred to me that the Razor Crest is your version of a RV. I’m gonna call it the Space RV from now on.”

The mental image of Mando and the kid sitting in the front seat of an old 80’s Winnebago is so hilarious that it makes you cackle, throwing a hand onto Mando’s shoulder as you lean your head back and hold your stomach with the opposite appendage. What really gets you is that you imagine both Mando and the kid with little Mickey Mouse ears as if they’re driving back from Disney World. Mando’s helmet with black ears on top is such a ridiculous notion.

The Mandalorian looks to where the kid is sitting on a tall stack of crates in order to be level with the two adults, shaking his silver head. “Do you understand why she thinks that’s so funny? No? Yeah neither do I, kid.”

When you finally stop laughing, wiping a stray tear from your left eye, you let go of Mando’s shoulder to stand up straight again. “Oh man, that was great. My cheeks hurt from laughing so hard.”

“Such a strange woman,” Mando says, chuckling again.

“You like it,” another bout of courage emerges from within you.

“I do,” he agrees, leaving you a smiling mess.

In an effort not to over do the flirting too quickly, you redirect your attention to the kid. As much as you’re enjoying this new level of banter between yourself and the Mandalorian, it’s probably best to ease off a little.

“What do you think about it, Green Bean?” Scooping the child up into your arms, you swing him a around a few times before dancing to and fro as you bounce him. Humming one of his favorite Earth songs as you boop your nose into his, the kid squeals with delight while grinning up at you.

“You’re talented with him. Do you want one of your own one day?” Mando suddenly asks, voice earnest.

“A kid?” Halting your movements, you look down into the huge dark brown eyes of your nanny child and run a finger along one of his long ears. His mouth opens and closes as he babbles. “Honestly? If I have to give birth to it, the answer is no. Pregnancy, or rather the idea of having to go through it myself, has always made me super uncomfortable. I’ve always said I’d adopt a child if I had the right partner to do it with, though. There are too many little ones out there in need of a loving family. Having a biological offspring isn’t important to me in the slightest.”

“That’s a noble way to look at it,” he says after a moment. “Any foundling would benefit from having a mother like you.”

“Thank you for saying that.” Your heart swells at the compliment, and to hear him speak of you in such a way. “You’re great with the kid too, Mando. You’d make a wonderful dad.”

The Mandalorian suddenly sounds vaguely dejected, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I appreciate that.”

You frown, noticing his change in demeanor. “You okay?”

Coming to stand directly in front of you, Mando reaches a gloved hand out to stroke the kid’s head. “Just don’t want to think about the day he’s not here anymore.”

The two of you look down at the little green baby, waves of sadness washing over you. Mando’s probably feeling something similar, if not worse. The kid babbles and wiggles his clawed hands around, adding to the conversation in his own little way.

Your eyes flick up to the black visor, and your hand unconsciously rises to cup the side of the beskar as if you’re cupping Mando’s actual cheek. He doesn’t flinch or try to stop you from touching the helmet. This is the first time you’ve ever felt it’s cold exterior on your fingertips. “Then don’t think about it right now. Just enjoy him. Enjoy this time with your foundling.”

After handing the child to the Mandalorian, its very clear that he’s having a deeply emotional moment. The way he gently presses his helmet to the child’s forehead while holding him in such a loving manner causes you to get misty eyed. Staying quiet, you move to finish up with the meal. Mando already completed most of the work, so there’s not much left to do anyway.

A somber silence falls upon the Razor Crest as you stir the blue vegetables and Mando rocks his foster son back and forth.

*****

The following morning Din wakes up to the sound of your soft humming. His helmet is on, he’s in the cot with the door open, his gloves are off, and he’s holding the sleeping child to his chest.

You’re on the other end of the room in the galley making a pot of caf, and since you haven’t noticed that he’s awake yet, Din takes a moment to appreciate your appearance. With messy hair in a heap above your head and very little clothing, you’re a sight to behold. On your torso you have on a dark purple sleeveless garment that covers your breasts but not much else, and on your bottom half you have on a pair of black pants which only reach down to mid thigh. Your socked feet are hip width distance apart and you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wait for the caf to finish brewing.

Just as Din is ready to alert you of his presence, you bend at the waist with your chest to your thighs and let your arms dangle below your head. You take a few deep breaths in this position and then you crawl your hands out in front of you and your body takes on an upside down V shape. After taking more deep breaths you extend one leg into the air before bringing the leg down in front of you. With knee and ankle behind each wrist, your other leg slides straight back behind you. You hinge at the waist and bend your body forward, forehead resting on stacked palms.

He’s seen you do this yoga exercise before, but on this particular occasion Din is completely mesmerized by it. Your flexibility and the possibilities of such a skill cause his mind to wander to unsavory places.

Then the child stirs with a loud noise, and the inappropriate trance is broken.

“Morning guys,” You say from the floor, never once breaking the stillness of your pose.

“Good Morning,” Din replies, yawning softly after. The kid gets up and climbs across Din’s body before he hops down from the cot, moving over to where you’re changing poses.

“Hi, Green Bean. Just give me a sec and I’ll love on ya.” You’re finishing out the same pose but on the other side, and the kid ignores you by climbing onto your back anyway. You don’t move, but your chuckles shake him around a little. “Alright that works too, dude.”

As Din pries himself from the cot, he looks down to where your blanket and pillow are in a heap just outside of the cot. It had been made into a makeshift little sleeping spot the night before.

“Did you sleep okay there?” He asks, stretching his arms out as he stands to full height.

“Yeah I slept fine enough. This whole Anzat thing is a little creepy so was just nice to be close to you both.” You reply, pushing yourself up with the child still sitting on your back as if he’s riding a blurrg. Slowly, he begins tipping to the left and his whole body inevitably starts to follow.

Din grabs him just as he’s about to slide off of you, and you take the opportunity to stand up again. “You can have the next turn in the cot,” Din says.

“I wont say no,” you groan a little and put a hand to your lower back, “I was doing yoga for a reason.”

“Perhaps when we are done with this I’ll see about getting a second cot put in.” Din watches you carefully as he makes this suggestion, knowing full well that it’s an invitation for you to stay on the Razor Crest for as long as you want. He wants to see if your reaction is as positive as he hopes it will be, and he’s not disappointed.

Your eyes widen slightly and your mouth drops open into a wide grin. “Really?”

“If you’re going to stick around for a while, you’re going to need a proper place to sleep.” Din’s own grin is spread across his features under the beskar.

To Din’s surprise you say nothing but instead close the distance between the two of you by hugging him around the waist, careful not to bump into the kid who’s still in Din’s left arm. The right hugs you back a little after a slight moment of hesitation. A beep suddenly goes off in the galley then, causing you to pull away from him sooner than he would have liked. Looking up at Din with a content smile, you kiss the green child atop his little head before moving to go deal with it. The tender sight of it is almost too much for him.

With your back to Din, you look over your shoulder slightly and ask, “Caf?”

“Please,” Din agrees with an almost dreamy voice, chest so full after such an innocent display of affection towards his foster son. He’s well aware that he’s allowing himself to become entirely too attached to you, but at this point he’s not sure that it’s something he can help.

You bring him a steaming cup, motioning that you’d like to take the kid with your own cup in hand. “I’m going to hang out upstairs so you can have some privacy. The cat’s already up there, so come on, kiddo.”

Din doesn’t want you to go, so he reaches out a bare hand to grab your forearm. His thumb gently runs along the inside of your wrist a little. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m not comfortable invading your space.” You counter, frowning a little. Clearly, you’re confused as to what Din means.

Din thinks for a moment, feeling incredibly conflicted about wanting to be able to do something as simple as share a morning caf with his friend while not actually having that luxury. Then an idea strikes him and he hands you the kid, pulling up a rectangular crate. “Sit here,” he says, motioning towards one edge.

Looking skeptical, you comply regardless and Din moves to sit on the other side of the crate with his back against yours. The two of you are pressed into each other while facing in opposite directions.

“Are you sure about this?” Your voice is clearly shocked by his suggestion, and he looks back to make sure you’re keeping the kid facing in the same direction away from him.

“I won’t lift it higher than my mouth,” Din assures you. “Before you came to stay with us, I used to do it while the kid was in the room and he never saw my face. I’ll be careful.”

You stay quiet for a moment before Din hears you take a deep breath and let it out, accompanied with a pleasant sounding noise before you respond. “I promise that I won’t turn around until you give it the all clear. He won’t either, I’ll keep a close eye on him.”

With that, you lean more of your weight into his back as you get comfortable and Din can hear you take a long sip from your steaming cup with a contented sigh.

So he lifts the base of his beskar helmet just enough to take a lengthy drink from his own cup, a warm contented feeling flowing through him along with the warmth of the caf running down his throat.

*****

A few hours later, you find yourself back on the streets of Nar Shaddaa with the Mandalorian never more than a a foot or two away from you. This time you’ve donned the new clothes you purchased the day before, and its a look you could find yourself getting used to. Back on Earth you’d been so worried about what people thought of you that you rarely dressed in a way that suited your inner personality, even with the attempts you’d been making to break yourself of the toxic mentality that sprouted in your youth.

Living in this galaxy, indescribably far away from anyone who ever knew you, life feels more free than you ever thought possible. Here you feel more able to be your most authentic self, to present yourself in a way that fits in with the version of you that you’d like to be. It’s invigorating.

Following Mando, face once again hidden beneath the black hood from the day before and blaster strapped to your new suspenders, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be in this juncture of your life. The idea of staying in this galaxy, of flying off on adventures to random planets with your cosmic companion and his alien kid, feels so right that the back of your head tingles as something akin to exhilaration flows through you. It’s beginning to sound like the most appealing option at your disposal, despite how the littlest part of you is still very conflicted. What’s going to change if the kid leaves? Palatable fear of heartbreak is also in your thoughts, heartbreak if the kid isn’t around anymore and if Mando never reciprocates your feelings. You don’t want your life to revolve around another person, but instead for his presence to become complimentary to your own.

Do I want this for the right reasons? You ask yourself, watching the Mandalorian guide you trough the crowds that somehow seem bigger than they had the day before. He’s playing a major role in why you can see yourself staying, whether you’d like to admit it or not.

Mind wandering to the morning, how it felt to sit back to back with him while enjoying your morning coffee together, another thought crosses the forefront of your mind. To Hell with the right reasons. You’ve over thought every decision in your life and that’s why you haven’t done anything with it. This could be your chance to finally live.

Watching the man you’ve grown very fond of weave in and out through the swells of various species bustling around, you can’t help but grin widely. Thinking about a life, a real one where your perpetual sense of autopilot is finally turned off, with the Mandalorian by your side leaves you a giddy mess.

The Mandalorian in question then turns to check on you, and you’re sure the look of giddiness on your slightly hidden features is not mistaken for anything else.

“What are you smiling about?” He asks, stopping off to the side of the foot traffic.

“Oh, you know, this and that.” You reply, still grinning.

“Mm,” he hums, helmet dipping slightly, “What was it you wanted to do today?”

“Well this may sound silly,” you start, and he cuts you off.

Head tilting to the left, Mando’s voice drops a little so that only you can hear him. “You don’t have to preface what you want with an excuse. Ask.”

Although it’s a little hard for you to be upfront about what you want, you take a deep breath and look right into the visor where his eyes ought to be. “I’d like to get art supplies for the kid and I’d like to get my hair cut. It’s too long to properly manage and it’s been driving me nuts.”

His voice is clearly surprised, “Oh. Sure, you can do that.”

“I have no idea where to go, do they even have places like that here?” You ask, feeling awkward about getting a haircut in a place like Nar Shaddaa even though it was your idea to begin with. Hopefully this isn’t about to be a huge disaster that you’ll have to live with for a the next few months.

“Yes there’s actually a place up ahead. Will this take long?” Mando asks, and you shake your head.

“I mean maybe an hour tops if there’s no wait.” You reply, yelping when your shoulder is roughly bumped by a pedestrian who walks a little too close. Shooting a glare in the person’s direction makes you feel slightly better, but you look back to Mando with irritation in your voice. “Damn, that guy could have said excuse me or something.”

Mando watches the person closely for a few moments before his attention falls back onto you. “Would you be comfortable with it if I take care of a few things while you’re in there? I’ll be done before you so I can grab the things for the kid, and I’ll wait for you outside until you’re finished.”

“Works for me,” you agree, waving your wrist carrying the com-link around. “I’ll call if I need you.”

“Likewise,” he says.

*****

Din is almost certain that the man who’d bumped into you is not entirely human, and so a red flag goes off in his head as soon as he gets a good look at the guy. Although Din didn’t get a good look at it, something about his face is just off. Particularly his slightly flared, bulbous nose and grayish skin tone. On top of this, it ad been no accident. The man had deliberately knocked his shoulder into yours. If Din were to bet on it, his credits would be on this man to be the suspected Anzat.

But why would he make his presence known on purpose? The only reason Din can surmise is that the Anzat is also hunting, and that had been some form of tactic on his end. Din wishes desperately that he hadn’t been foolish enough to take a bounty puck for a species that he only carries basic knowledge of.

He could be endangering the kid and he could be endangering you. And why? Just because he’s confident in his abilities both as a warrior and a hunter? But what if that’s not enough?

Regardless, Din decides not to alert you to any immediate threat as he drops you off at the beauty shop. Once he’s sure that you’ll be there for the next hour or so, he heads out into the crowded market in search of the possible Anzati man. Din hopes to Maker that leaving you on your own isn’t a huge mistake.

The better part of a half hour goes by, leaving Din with no trace of the man he’d seen earlier. He picks up some art supplies for the kid per your request when he stumbles across a small stand for it, along with a few personal items for himself at another, but he’s never not on high alert.

Which is why it startles him some when a vaguely familiar voice interrupts his train of thought.

“Oh, so the Mandalorian is back,” it’s the elderly Twi’lek from the day before. Somehow Din’s ended up back in front of the jewelry stand. “Where’s your wife?”

“Not my wife,” he says curtly.

“Whatever she is to you then, where is she?” The woman croaks, coughing after.

“What does it matter?” Din responds, turning to walk away from the woman entirely.

“She must be important. A man paid me a lot of money to tell him where the two of you went yesterday.” She smirks, “If you meet his price I’ll tell you where I last saw him. I’ll even throw in that cheap necklace your woman was admiring for free.”

Din’s spine straightens, muscles tightening. He turns back to face the Twi’lek with loose morals and moves to stand in front of her. “How much?”

“Fifty,” she says evenly, and Din drops half the amount of credits on the table without hesitation. She looks down at it with a scoff, then back up to the Mandalorian. “That’s twenty five.”

Protecting the ones he cares about is his only priority in this moment. His hackles are more than raised. Din squares his shoulders and fixes her with a glare beneath the beskar. “If you told him where we were going then you don’t deserve anything at all. I’m being generous.”

The old woman fixes Din with a hard stare before her features melt back down to uninvested and she shrugs her shoulders, looking away. “Suit yourself.”

Din carefully sets his blaster down on the table and points it at her, voice low and even as he leans forward. “I wouldn’t kill an old woman, but I would definitely ruin her afternoon.”

Green hands in the air as a sign of surrender, the woman shakes her head. “Fine, I’ll take the twenty-five.”

Din puts the blaster back in its holster while she scoops up the credits and stows them away in a pocket. The Mandalorian continues to glare at her, hoping that his body language is getting his anger across. “Speak.”

“I told him that you were going back to your ship. I heard you name the vessel when you walked off with her. He passed by here again earlier today, but I did not speak to him.” Her unhelpful response makes Din want to shout, but he stays cool.

“Do you know anything else about him? Where he went after you saw him?”

“He went down towards the food stands. That’s all I know. But I’ll tell you this: I think he’s not human.” Shaking her wrinkled head, she repeats the last statement. “Definitely not human.”

Din stands to full height again, turning his back to the woman. “Thanks,” he says, wanting to add a ‘for nothing’ but decides not to.

But then her voice picks up again so he stops. “If I’m right, you might want to be careful. His kind can control the minds of others in order to get what they want. Some kind of genetic ability.”

Stomach turning, a suddenly nauseous Din Djarin processes this information while deciding that he is, indeed, a fool. He’s got to get you back to the ship as soon as possible.

On his way out from under the Twi’lek’s canopied stand, he sees the planet necklace you’d admired the day before and he pauses to look back at the old woman with his hand hovering over it.

“Go ahead, I’ve got a whole crate of those. It’s shiny junk.” She waves him off, turning her attention to something mundane on the table

Din pockets the necklace and starts to head back in your direction when his com-link beeps.

“Hey, Chrome Dome. I’m almost done, where are you?” Your voice filters into his helmet’s speakers.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Stay put.” Din’s on edge, and knows that he probably sounded as much to you.

“Copy that,” your reply comes, and with a another little beep your voice is gone.

Din takes off in your direction briskly, well aware that the Anzat could be close by. This is man a hunter and Din knows the language of a hunter better than any of the many languages he can speak.

He rounds a corner after a long five minutes of dipping and dodging, and Din sees you standing with your back to him in front of the beauty shop. Your hood is up but when he recognizes your body and clothes right away, a sense of relief washes over him. The Anzat may be close but now that Din has you he can get you back to the kid and deal with the brain-eater in the only way he knows best.

When he approaches and you turn to face him, pulling back the hood once you realize it’s him, you barely look like yourself for the first few seconds he’s observing you. Din says your name in a questioning tone and then adds a stunned, “wow,” when he truly takes in the sight of you.

Your wild hair, once long and unruly, is cut nearly as short as his own hair is beneath the helmet. It’s the shortest in the back and gets longer in the front, with wavy pieces falling elegantly across your forehead. On top of such a drastic change, the color has been altered to a dark shade of purple.

Din is so floored that he momentarily forgets that there’s danger afoot, wishing that he could reach a bare hand out to touch it.

“I’m obsessed,” you say with a grin as you reach up to move it around on your forehead a little, clearly more than happy with the results. “They used some guck from a morogian snap plant to dye it. Apparently the color will hardly ever fade, and it didn't take as long as a dye job back home. I would have been too self conscious to try hair like this on Earth, but I’m so happy that I went for it.” Then your face suddenly becomes bashful, voice taking on a timid tone. “You like it?”

“Mesh’la,” Din breathes, then quietly adds on for your benefit, “beautiful. Mando’a for beautiful.”

Cheeks flushing, you dip your head in a nod. “Thank you, ner burc’ya.”

Then you notice the bag he’s carrying and ask if he got the supplies for the kid, and Din snaps back into reality. The effect you have on him is worrisome if it can distract him this much.

“You need to get back to the Razor Crest. We may have a problem.”

*****

Ranik A’kazz follows the woman and the Mandalorian all afternoon, attempting to break into the woman’s foul smelling mind for most of it. She appears to be the weaker of the pair, and so he assumes that entering her mind will be one of the easiest attempts he’s ever made.

Ranik assumes wrong. No matter how close he gets, he cannot break into the mind of the woman to save his life. It must be whatever is wrong with her that makes her smell so awful. Perhaps where she comes from is a tainted place.

No matter the reason, Ranik is unsuccessful and must give up. Even though it pains him to have attempted it, he cannot even break in after making physical contact out on the street. Touch usually creates an instant link, and this results in nothing whatsoever. Having to touch her is indescribably awful for Ranik, offending every single one of his senses.

After Ranik realizes he will not be able to break into the woman, he knows he must attempt to break into the Mandalorian.

Then the pair goes their separate ways and he follows the Mandalorian from higher up, using his excellent skills in agility to climb along some of the buildings. Ranik watches as he stops to speak to the old crone at the jewelry stand again. The bounty hunter pays her for information regarding Ranik himself, and then moves on to find his woman again.

Ranik drops down once the Mandalorian is out of sight, moving swiftly to the jewelry stand. The old crone doesn’t even get out a word before Ranik puts a blaster to her head and pulls the trigger.

*****

Stomach in knots, you’ve got an uneasy feeling in the pit of your gut all the way back to the ship. The Mandalorian is booking it, so you really have to pick up the pace in order to keep up. Once you're inside and you know that the kid and Jupiter are still safe, the uneasy feeling doesn’t subside.

Out of breath, you pant, “Mando, please be careful.” You look up at him with a grimace. “I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is gonna happen.”

“I’m always careful,” Mando replies. You think he must have really noticed the contorted look on your face because he quickly adds, “I promise I’ll be as careful as I can. You be safe and take care of the kid.”

“I promise,” you say almost sadly, holding on to yourself.

Then the Mandalorian surprises you by closing the distance between you and placing a hand on your shoulder. Leaning forward, he gently rests his beskar clad forehead to yours. The metal is so cold, your nose fogging up the visor a little as you realize that his eyes, his face, it’s all so close to you.

What you wouldn’t give to kiss him.

“I’ll be back,” he says after a long moment.

“You better,” you reply seriously.

Then you break apart, and he reminds you that the com-link is still open and you’re welcome to use it if you need him. You know to use it sparingly if he’s on the hunt, but the fact that you have it at your disposal is a welcome comfort.

Mando scoops up the kid for a little hug before handing the baby over to you, he pats the cat on the head, and then he makes his way down the ramp of the ship. He turns to look at you as the hatch closes back up.

You hate seeing him slowly disappear, and you hate how vulnerable you suddenly feel without his presence.

Sighing, you take the baby and the cat back over to the cot so you can shut the three of you inside while hoping for the best end result to this situation. Of course you bring the blaster in with you, just to be safe. Although you're still not a great shot, the practicing you’ve been doing with Mando has paid off considerably. You’re much better than you were a few weeks ago.

There you spend the next hour fiddling around nervously on the iPad while checking the com-link every couple of minutes. The kid is preoccupied with your new hairstyle for a little bit but after a while he’s clearly getting bored, restless, and worried for his foster dad. It’s getting on your nerves a little but you don’t feel comfortable leaving the cot just yet. He’s fussy and on edge just like you are, and for that you can’t blame him.

Suddenly, causing you to jump, the com-link goes off. The baby looks down at your wrist with a concerned look on his face, ears casting downward.

“Hunt is almost complete,” Mando’s voice filters through, but something about it sounds completely off. Your heart sinks with dread. “I’ll be back to the ship soon.”

Perhaps you feel as if he’s off because you’re not used to speaking over coms when he’s on high alert. You respond with, “Copy that,” and he goes radio silent again.

Within fifteen minutes you can hear the hatch of the Razor Crest open back up and relief floods your system. This entire situation has you so unnerved, and you’re looking forward to being done with it.

When you hear the ramp shut again, you press the little button beside the cot door and the thing slides up to open. The smile you were planning to greet your friend with drops upon seeing the scene before you.

Mando is walking towards you with his hands behind his head, and he’s being followed closely by a man you’ve never seen before holding an open hand out towards Mando’s back. Instinctively, you move your entire body in front of the open cot to hide the kid.

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically, eyeing the stranger with a narrowed expression of distrust.

The man has a round bulbous nose, grayish skin, and seemingly human looking features. Long brown hair tied back and tan colored clothing make him look less harmless than he actually seems to be. If he has Mando held up, he’s clearly dangerous.

“So you’re the one who smells so repugnant,” the man says, holding back an obvious gag as he speaks to you with a strange accent.

You snort, trying your best to play it cool even though you're losing it inside. “Aww! Thanks for the compliment, dickhead. What do you want?”

His facial expression changes from that of revolted, to one of obscene pleasure. “The child behind you, madam.”

You look down to see the kid peeking out from behind your legs. The cat comes out of the cot as well, hissing violently at the intruder.

“Fat chance, dude. Mando, what’s going on here?” You address your cosmic companion, but he doesn’t answer. Nor does he move a muscle.

“The Mandalorian is under my thumb for the time being, I’m afraid.” With that, the man waves his hand and Mando drops down to his knees with a painful sounding thud. If he felt any pain from that, he makes no obvious show of it. The stranger continues, “My name is Ranik. I am the bounty your friend here was looking for.”

Okay, so the Anzat has mind control powers. Although you’re absolutely terrified, an adrenaline fueled maternal instinct to protect the child takes over and allows you remain calm on the outside.

“Cool, nice to meet you. You’re still not taking our kid.” You reply evenly, fully aware of the phrasing.

“Oh but I think I am. There’s nothing you or your friend can do to stop me.” He then moves his hand away from Mando, who fully drops to the ground in a heap, and instead points his open palm out towards you.

A small prickling feeling starts at the back of your head, but that’s all that ever comes and it quickly fizzles back out. It feels just like an odd sensation you’d felt earlier that day in the market, the realization of what that means washing over you.

Ranik seems to grow frustrated by this, “What species are you? Your brain chemistry is unlike anything I’ve ever come across. Your soup is abhorrent.”

“Human,” you bite back, “I guess where I’m from we’re just built differently.” Taking a chance, you glance down at the kid and then to the blaster still strapped to your hip.

“Regardless, I’ll be taking my meal now.” Ranik draws out, and to your sickening horror fleshy tentacle like things begin to wiggle out of from little holes on either side of his face.

The protruding gray flesh is appalling, and when you imagine him using those to kill the child you’ve come to love, your stomach turns while your anger flourishes.

On the ground Mando groans, curling up into a fetal position while cradling his helmeted head in his hands. He’s not going to be any help any time soon, and you quickly realize that this situation is entirely on you to handle.

Just as you’re trying to figure out what to do next, Ranik’s hand moves down to point at the kid. Struggling to fight back, the green toddler puts his own hand up and closes his big brown eyes. His little arm begins shaking, and then his eyes open again. They seem to be glazed over, his arm dropping to his side as he starts mindlessly scooting out from behind your legs.

Ranik has a mental hold over him. You do not allow yourself to panic, though, grabbing the blaster from your thigh and flicking the safety off just as Jupiter launches herself at Ranik. He cries out in anger as she digs her claws into his leg an bites down, batting her off of him with a force you do not appreciate. She’s unscathed, but he knocks her back a good five feet and your blood boils.

Seething between your teeth and scared out of your mind, you hold the blaster just the way the Mando taught you. “You’ve got one more chance to fuck off. I suggest you take it.”

The kid is nearly to Ranik now, the sickening tendrils from his face whipping around wildly. Almost as if the tendrils themselves are excited at the prospect of a good meal.

Ranik goes to bend over in order to pick up the child, and you fire. The first shot misses and Ranik stands up, angrily regarding you.

“Your presence is becoming tedious, foul woman.” He spits, forgetting the child just long enough for you to fire again.

This time the blast hits him directly in the chest and you let out a scream of rage. You fire multiple times, peppering him with shots until he drops to the floor. Shaking all over, you run over to where the Anzat lay bleeding on the floor. He twitches, tendrils still waving around wildly as he makes little sputtering noises. Then he begins to pick himself back up, coughing up oddly colored blood all the while.

Without a second thought, you put the blaster to his head and pull the trigger.

Ranik crashes back down to the floor, the sick realization that you’ve just killed someone washing over your body. The blaster falls from your grasp with a loud clink on the ground, and you drop down onto your hands and knees. Dry heaving, you hold your stomach as you sob wildly.

“What have I done?” Saying this over and over again, you fall over onto your right side.

Mando’s voice is in your ears then, saying your name. It’s weak, but he sounds like himself again. “Ugh, my head.” He groans painfully, attempting to pull himself up with shaky arms.

“Mando?” Your sobbing subsides for a moment when your need to check on him takes over, crawling over to where he’s trying to gain his bearings. The kid is sitting up next to his foster father, blinking wildly while holding onto his own head with little claws, face scrunching up in pain. Laying a hand on Mando’s chest, you touch the forehead of his helmet with the other as you peer into the visor.

“Wha- what happened?” He asks, shaking his head around. Once he’s able to sit up again, his breathing is heavy and strained. You break apart and slide back a little.

“I killed him,” you say quietly, arms holding onto each other as your rock yourself.

“Shit,” Mando curses, saying your name again followed by a string of apologies.

Jupiter comes over to sniff at the three of you, ensuring that the humans and her little green friend are still in tact, before hissing down at the body of the Anzat and scampering off. When you down look at his lifeless face, long tendrils still hanging limply from his cheeks, you fall onto your back as you panic once again.

The child waddles over to you and places a tiny hand on your forehead, and you start to sob even more hysterically at the thought of what would have happened if you hadn’t just killed someone. You grab him and hug him to your chest tightly, “I’ve got you, little Green Bean. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Then you pass out.

*****

Sever hours later, you awake in the cot with your blanket draped over you and Jupiter sleeping by your side. Head pounding in painful waves and body dripping with sweat, confusion fills your mind as to why you’re in bed and why you feel horrendously. You sit up as if your body weighs a ton, and you finally understand what people really mean when they claim to feel as if they’d been hit by a truck.

“Mando?” Calling out to the Mandalorian, you peer around your view of the first floor for a moment before your eyes land on an oddly colored stain on the floor and the memory hits you like a brick.

You see every moment of it play out before you, seeing the Anzat die by your hand as pang of nausea drops through your belly.

“Oh, fuck,” you exclaim, taking a few deep breaths with your eyes closed in order to try and clam yourself down.

Suddenly Mando’s voice is in your ears saying your name and your eyes snap open. He’s crouching in front of the cot, watching you closely. The cat jumps down and runs off.

“Mando, I-I,” your lip begins to quiver as you stutter off.

“I’m very sorry that you had to do that,” he says gravely.

“I can’t believe I killed someone.” Your body starts to twitch and convulse with anxiety.

His shoulders square a little as he shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have had to. It’s my fault for taking this quarry. Taking a life for the first time is something that will be with you for a long time, but you protected the child, and for that I can’t thank you enough.”

“Where is he?” You’re asking about the kid.

“Sleeping in the pod over there. He’s worn out but he’s okay. Unfortunately this sort of thing isn’t new for him.” Mando responds, gesturing to where the closed pod is sitting on the floor nearby.

Thinking about how devastated the two of you would be if the child had been killed instead, some of the guilt you feel subsides and your nervous system evens out a little. You know that you may never not feel guilty for taking a life, but you were defending an innocent toddler from horrific murder. Saving the child means you also saved Mando from unspeakable heartbreak. As much as this is huge a shock to the system, you’re grateful that the ones you care about are still with you.

“It’s not your fault, Mando.” You say after a moment, sighing as you run a hand through your hair and are shocked by what you feel. “Oh shit, I forgot this is short now.”

Mando also sighs, looking away from you. “I think it’s best that you stay on Nevarro when we return.”

Your heart sinks, “What? What are you saying?”

“I endangered the child. I endangered you. I am not fit to care for him or to be your friend. I’m going fulfill my duty by getting him to his people as soon as possible and you’re going back to Nevarro.” His voice is both strained and cold.

“No,” you say angrily.

“Yes,” he bites back.

“No. You’re not going to punish me or yourself for a mistake that wasn’t completely your fault.” At this point your head is pounding so badly and your temper is rising so much that you want to scream at him.

The Mandalorian’s head dips, “Your presence here is distracting. When I’m distracted, people get hurt. I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

You can’t help but argue, a storm of emotions thundering trough your body. “You haven’t hurt anyone. A stranger tried to hurt us. I feel sick knowing that I killed him but nothing was going to harm that baby while I was around. The only reason the kid is still here is because the Anzat couldn’t control my mind. And the fact that he controlled yours is not your fault. Nor is it mine. How could we have known that would happen? Without that being a factor you would have taken him down like it was nothing, and you know it. People fear you. I’ve seen it for myself. That’s because you’re good at what you do.”

Looking back at you, his voice becomes bitter. “Taking the bounty was reckless and cocky. I should have learned more before jumping into it.”

“So you make a mistake and suddenly we’re not allowed to be friends anymore?” Now tears are forming in your eyes, fists balled up in your lap. “That’s not fair.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I’m not fit to be your friend.”

“Yes you fucking are.”

Crawling from the cot and onto the floor, you’re sitting on your knees right in front of him. Close enough to touch. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, and his silence pisses you off. Angrily shoving at his beskar covered chest, a tear escapes from your left eye and runs down your cheek. He doesn’t budge, continuing to watch you closely.

Letting out a guttural noise of frustration, your brow swoops down to narrow at him. “I killed that guy to protect the little one we both love dearly. I also killed him to protect you. You are my friend. In fact, you’re the best friend I’ve had in a very long time. I am not going to give up on that because this happened, and if you did it would kind of break my heart.”

Silence befalls you both. The Mandalorian’s movements are slow and precise as he crawls forward and turns to lean his back against the wall, grabbing you around the waist to pull you to him. You’re suddenly seated between his legs with your back pressed to his body, warm in spite of the beskar. Arms still circled around your waist, he slowly takes both of his gloves off. The skin beneath reveals itself to you, breath hitching in your throat when the fingers of his right hand come to intertwine with those of your left. Your body melts into his and you feel like you could stay this way for hours.

“I’ve killed many people in my life in order to protect others. This is The Way,” he says after a moment, “but you are not Mandalorian. You have not been trained to fight like I have. To process what it means to kill another living being. I should have never put you in this position.” Leaning his head down to rest on top of yours a little, his beskar helmet is pressing into you. The metal feels even harder against your head now that there’s less hair to cushion it.

You grip his hand, tracing small circles into his tan skin with your thumb as you press back into the helmet gently. “But even still, I do not and will never regret my choice to save the kid. This is definitely going to fuck me up for a while but it’s my responsibility to heal from it, no one else’s. Something like this could have happened without your involvement, so please hear me when I say that I am never going to blame you for this. Life can be ugly sometimes, but the ones we care about are what make the ugly moments more bearable.”

“As foundlings we are taught that protecting our fellow Mandalorians at all costs is essential to our way of life,” Mando begins to explain, “Our creed dictates that loyalty, solidarity, and keeping one’s word are all traits of a true Mandalorian warrior. Today you wore the traits of a Mandalorian and you wore them well. You may not be one of my kind, but I believe you have the heart of a Mandalorian. There is a warrior somewhere within you.”

At first you don’t really process how significant what he just said really is, and then it hits you. Your mouth falls open as you blink a few times. “Wow. Thank you. That’s probably the best compliment I could ever receive from you, Mando.”

Words taper off for a few minutes, the two of you holding each other on the floor of the ship you both consider to be home. Then the stillness is broken when the Mandalorian suddenly speaks again, voice a low hum within his armor-plated chest.

“Din,” he whispers in your ear, arms tightening around you considerably as he says it.

Leaning your head to rest on his shoulder, you look up at him and whisper back, “Is that Mando’a for something?”

“It is my name,” he breathes, “Din Djarin.”

Your heart is both heavy and full at the same time, chest swelling with more emotion for him than you can really process in such a weakened state. “Din,” you repeat quietly as a sleepy little smile spreads across your face. “It’s handsome, and it fits you so well.”

“Only others of my kind or those I trust completely know my true name.” Din’s baritone voice sounds so much more lovely to you now that you have a real name to put to it, to the man who has slowly been bewitching you for weeks on end.

You want to say it a million times, adoring the way it rolls off of your tongue. “I understand. Thank you for trusting me, Din.”

“Thank you for saving us,” he responds, “I am in your debt.”

“Just save my ass next time the occasion calls for it and we’ll be even,” you laugh a little, then when the ugly memory runs through your mind again you grimace. “Ugh, I feel like shit. The guilt is eating me up inside and its making my head hurt.”

“I know,” Din says soothingly. “When we get to Nevarro I’ll get a room with a real bed for a few days. You need proper rest.”

As he says this, the child’s pram opens up and his little green head pokes out. He looks just as exhausted as you probably do and how you assume Din also looks under the beskar. Slowly, the kid climbs out of the pod to come join his humans. Little legs carry him to the two of you, noises of discomfort leaving him as he does so.

When the kid climbs into your lap and nestles into your stomach, you run your free hand over his small head while still squeezing Din’s fingers with the other. Din’s free hand moves to his foster son, a three-clawed green hand wrapping around Din’s thumb as the kid holds him back.

You sigh, “All three of us need proper rest, Din.”

“Mm,” he agrees with a hum. Then a slap-happy, giddily little laugh erupts from you, causing Din’s chest to rumble beneath you. “What is it?”

A loopy grin spread across your face, you snuggle into his beskar covered shoulder more as you cradle the child. “I just can’t believe I know your real name. I love saying it.”

“I love hearing it said in your beautiful voice.” Din nuzzles his metal covered head into you. “I’m sorry that I considered leaving you on Nevarro. Fear poisoned my thinking.”

“I forgive you,” you accept his apology, “and I’m afraid too, if it makes you feel any better. All of this scares the hell out of me.”

Without much forethought, you pull his hand up towards your face and press your lips to his knuckles. Din makes an indistinguishable but attractive sounding noise, and you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself for causing it’s occurrence.

*****

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*****

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@luc-k-y | @theslytherinwriter | @somewereinthegalaxi

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vegetable-man · 2 years ago

Text

Divine Intervention

FLUFFY WINTER FIC JUST DROPPED. I’m halfway done with finals. Bless the lord. N e wayz, I wrote this bc I think Eddie is so bae. no warnings just love fr. Sending u kithes <3

Divine Intervention

Eddie munson x reader (a slight mention of mechanic Eddie). Same universe as my other mechanic eddie fic.

{*_*}

Indiana was surprisingly cold in the winter. As soon as October came around, a chill would start to crawl down Eddie’s spine and soon enough would leave his back tight and aching. While he never complained, it kept him under the flannel and thick comforter of his bed like a super magnet.

Needless to say, Eddie wouldn’t get up for anybody.

Well, not quite anybody.

…

Max actually liked living in a small trailer with her mom. Living in that big house with Neil and Billy was far colder in the summers than it was here in the dead of winter. She settled quite nicely in her small bedroom and admired how peaceful her mom kept the place.

There was also another thing Max liked about living in the trailer park: she knew anything and everything about everyone.

You wouldn’t peg her to be much of a nosy girl but in truth, Max was a hardcore people watcher. She enjoyed silently observing her neighbor’s lives and arguments, even noticing small changes in their routines.

Max noticed when Mrs. Wilt got a new senior dog from the shelter. She noticed when the kids down the street started to feed the stray cats.

She also noticed that Eddie had been leaving his trailer much earlier than usual.

Now, being the observer she was, she knew that normally, Eddie was late for everything. He was late to the house parties at Steve’s, he was late to pick up her boyfriend and his friends, he was even late to his own campaigns.

As soon as there was even a thought of snow falling from the impossibly dark morning sky, Eddie was dressed and out of the trailer at 6:30 AM sharp.

The van starting up would wake her up, and Max would blearily look out her window at the trailer across from the window. Eddie would be out there warming up the car, brushing snow off his windshield, and sometimes running frantically back inside to grab something he probably forgot.

With a roll of her eyes, Max would roll back into bed and wait for her mom to wake her up in another half hour for school.

…

Wayne always kept the news on, especially in the afternoons. He didn’t care for the news, no, but he did care about the weather for the week.

After a small dinner between himself and his boy, Wayne sat his heavy bones down on the couch to watch some TV. Eddie grabbed two beers and a couple of papers, presumably for one of his games that Wayne didn’t quite understand, and set up camp on the small chair that accompanied the couch in their comfortably cluttered living room.

Handing Wayne an opened beer, Eddie sat down in his chair and took a swig from his own bottle, eyes trained on the TV.

“what are they sayin it’s gonna be?” He asked his uncle.

“a couple feet of snow” he groans out, and suddenly he smirks “you better head on to bed, boy”

“Fuuuuuck” Eddie gripped his forehead and leaned forward. With a breath he sat back up, barked out a quick ‘yeah I guess you’re right’ and dragged his feet to the bathroom to wash up before bed.

On the couch, where Eddie couldn’t see him -where no one could see him in fact-, Wayne couldn’t help the smile and sigh that escaped his mouth and entered the very bottle he sipped.

…

There was nothing that irritated Eddie more than his 6:00 AM alarm on a cold morning.

His body felt warm, his nose felt cold, his brain felt like a brick. And yet, Eddie dragged himself out of bed to put on his usual uniform except with an added twist: the winter coat that you had bought for him last Christmas. While Eddie thought that a bulky coat would destroy his style, it seemed like you had thought of everything, it was a true Wilson leather jacket with all the padding and insulation to get him through the arctic. Eddie knew that wasn’t true, but hell, he’d never see Michigan anytime soon much less the arctic circle. He just knew you didn’t want him to be cold, and he’d do anything for you.

Even get up at the crack of fucking dawn.

When finished his morning routine, Eddie was much more awake than before, but not anymore prepared to face the biting cold of the outside.

Still, he grabbed his keys and headed out to warm up the car and drive off.

As soon as the heat had filled the car, Eddie shifted out of park and slowly drove out of the trailer park through the newly falling snow.

…

If the roads in Hawkins were bad enough in the summertime, the wintertime felt like a deathtrap. There weren’t enough plows to keep up with the roads that weren’t frequently used such as I don’t know, most of them?

And while Eddie didn’t care for driving in the snow, he knew you were absolutely terrified.

You had your own car, you own routine and places to go, but it all seemed to slow down when there was a dusting of snow or ice on the asphalt. Once, you had called Eddie in a panic because you were stuck at school in a blizzard and couldn’t even get out of the parking lot without sliding.

Eddie laughed, he didn’t mean to, but blizzard was a gross overstatement.

Nevertheless, he drove his ass up to your college campus to save you from the dastardly dangerous terribly scary snow.

Ever since then, Eddie vowed to never let you drive in the snow again.

…

Back in the van, Eddie navigated the tight and windy roads of Hawkins to your house. Not even fifteen minutes by car, and Eddie knew he would be early like he always was.

Pulling into your driveway, which was quickly building up snow, Eddie saw that the garage was open and the lights were on. He knew enough of your family’s routine to know that both your parents were leaving for work at their usual time. Too fucking early, but their usual time regardless.

With an empty spot in the garage from the recent departure of your father, Eddie pulled into the spot and waved at your mom who was warming up her car herself. She looked over at Eddie and gave him a tired wave and smile, one that said ‘yeah hun she’s still in bed’.

Shutting off his car and tightening his abdomen, Eddie braced for, and eventually threw himself, into the cold air lingering around your garage. It wasn’t a long walk to the door which led into the coatroom, perhaps 10 steps. But these were 10 steps in which Eddie felt his back start to cramp and started walking with a hunch.

Your house was much warmer, though, which made up for the incessant and violating cold.

Taking off his boots and heavy coat, Eddie entered your house and beelined for your bedroom.

…

If Eddie was frozen before, he was entirely melted by the way you were swallowed by the seven..? He tried to count, blankets on your bed. He heart melted through his chest and in a puddle that made his socks wet with sticky and sweet love.

He could barely see your long and steady breaths from under your blanket and what he could see told him you were utterly out.

With firm steps to your bed, Eddie sat on the edge and dipped the mattress in a way that exposed your face a little further to his sight. Now, he always thought you were cute, even far before he told you for the first time, but Eddie was always hit by it the most when you were sleeping. When you would get a small furrow in your brows and cheeks would squish from the pillow supporting your face.

Cuteness aggression was an intrusive thought that Eddie used all his power to resist.

Compromising with himself, Eddie placed a firm kiss on your temple. Firm, now, meant that the kiss pushed almost your whole head a few inches into the pillow, and exposed your neck for a slight moment from the motion. Eddie used this moment to slip his hand into the crook of your neck and gently rubbed across its length.

A bit startled and groggy from sleep, you furrowed your brows and without opening your eyes, graveled out a small “hello?”

Eddie bit back a laugh and stroked upwards towards your cheek “Good morning sweetheart” and pressed an even deeper kiss to your temple.

With a small sleepy gasp, you moved from your side and onto your back and softly whined out “Eddie? Hi! G’Mornin”.

With that, Eddie laid his torso on top of yours as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, breathing in his hair and soaking in his warmth.

Eddie knew, however, that if you wanted to be on time for your 8:00 AM class, you would need to get up right about now.

“You’ve gotta get up and ready sweetheart” he spoke near your neck.

“No.”

“Come on up now” Eddie used his leverage to lift you into a seated position. Seated in a valley made by the mountains of blankets on your bed, perhaps not up, but maybe more slouched than anything.

Eddie laughed at your messy hair and slightly swollen eyes as you yawned and embraced him again in your new position. This time, with your head on his shoulder and your cheek squished into his collarbone.

“I love you so much” you squeaked out.

“I know honey” he rubbed your back “I love you too” and he kissed your hairline.

Marinating in the love, as Eddie called it, you both sat exchanging small gestures and warmth under the soft glow of your bedside lamp.

A ringing of the phone somewhere down the hallway interrupted you both and sent Eddie slowly pulling away from you padding towards the wall where he picked up the receiver.

Great news.

Eddie grinned as he blinked out the lingering exhaustion from his eyes and called the garage.

“Hey Ray… yeah bud… nah… no yeah that’s perfect I was calling to call out anyway!” Eddie barked out a laugh. They were closing the garage for the blizzard “yeah, It shouldn’t be a hard job anyway… no I’m with my girl… no worries man… stay safe I’ll see ya Monday!”

Eddie always felt a sort of divine intervention around you.

First your college campus closes due to weather, and then his garage takes a day off too.

Perfect, he smiled.

Walking back to your bed, shutting off the hallway and kitchen lights on the way, Eddie opened the door to your room and slipped inside. It was dark besides the lamp which was still on and you, well, you had fallen back under the oppression of your six, eddie finally decided, blankets.

Grabbing a pair of his sweatpants from your drawer, Eddie slipped them on in lieu of his jeans, shut off the lamp, and climbed into bed with you and your squished cheeks.

Eddie maneuvered your half asleep body next to him and caressed the back of your head until you fell back asleep with a newfound warmth next to you.

Eddie was comfortable. It was dark, it was warm, it was heavy, and you were next to him.

Divine intervention, he reminded himself. And then, like young men can’t resist, he fell deeply asleep.

…

Eddie woke up to two things. Well, three. Eddie woke up to three things.

He woke up to the soft white winter light. A morning snow kind of light beaming from the windows of your room. It was somehow one of the most loving and nostalgic scenes that he could think of. A fresh snow gleam was a sight to warm the heart.

The second thing Eddie woke up to was the heavy dip next to him on your mattress as you re-entered the bed.

The third thing Eddie woke up to was the smell of hot chocolate.

Eddie took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, and stretched his arms up and out before looking up at you and the mug of hot chocolate you sported.

Your hair was still messy, your glasses were on, and you brushed the hair out of Eddies face as you traced his jaw towards the outer corner of his eye.

Eddie moved his head to slightly bite the meat of your thumb and kiss the palm of your hand.

Groaning and lifting himself to a seated position, he grabbed the mug, tugged you into his side, and thanked divine intervention once again.

#eddie munson x reader #EDDIE MY BELOVED #eddie x y/n #mechanic!eddie #Eddie fluff #eddie munson #i want to have a morning winter cuddle when school is canceled and be little babies with eddie under the blankets IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK

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