#just realized I wrote 'lower face marking' twice... I guess it's that important

[who-is-riley]

currently unnamed turian girl

should I risk throwing some watercolour onto the page?

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

“What Do You Call Me?” - Din Djarin x female!reader

Summary: You try to note down and learn all the words Din speaks in Mando’a but there are a few whose meanings you just can’t figure out on your own. So, you have no other option than to ask him what the names he is calling you actually mean.

Warning: Din speaks some Mando’a (yep, still a warning), … I don’t think there is anything I should warn you about tho, it’s only a short fluffy oneshot... happy Valentine’s Day! 💜

Category: fluff

Words: 2.500

Notes: There is no use of (Y/N) in this one! Note 2: I finished this piece two hours before it was posted (I scheduled it and immediatly went to bed afterwards) because I really wanted to have something for Valentine’s Day… so it’s not beta-read at all. I normally read through my writing at least twice but that didn’t happen here.... it’s late, I’m tired… hopefully Din isn’t too OOC and I don’t cringe too hard tomorrow morning when I re-read it and delete it because I’m embarrassed. Fingers crossed! Note 3: I must add that it was rather relaxing to finally write something under 8.000 words…

_________________________________    

“What Do You Call Me?” – Din Djarin x fem!reader

It's no secret that Din's really smart. He's very knowledgeable and you really admired all his knowledge about different cultures and languages. You were especially fascinating by whatever language sometimes slipped over his lips, often when it was just the kid, him and you. After a while you figured that it was most likely Mando'a, the language of the Mandalorians. And the more it happened, the more often the words slipped from his mouth, the more curious you got and you began to wonder what exactly all those words meant. So, you had started to note them down on your datapad, or at least their pronunciation because you had no idea how to actually spell the words. You could write down their pronunciation fairly well but with what you really struggled was with their translations. Only a few were fairly easy.

When yet another cable went lose somewhere in the walls of the Razor Crest and Din yelled "HAR-chak" after noticing the problem you knew it had to be a swear word or something along the lines. Maybe "shit" or "damn it" but you never were too sure about it. Languages were tricky. Sometimes there just wasn't a translation for a specific word, and you could only note down a rough association. But you made it your mission to at least try. To try noting them all down, give them a translation or context in which you heard Din use them and learn them. It was hard, especially when you just couldn't figure a consistent meaning out. And you couldn't ask Din. Well, you could, but you didn't want to. Din didn't know about your little mission and you wanted to keep it that way for now. You wanted to surprise him with your effort, you wanted to be able to from at least one sentence before bringing it up because for now you were a bit too embarrassed and unsure. You wanted to impress him. You huffed and glanced up at the streaks of silver and blue that were swirling around the Razor Crest while in hyperspace. You were sitting on one of the co-pilot seats, legs perched up and pressed to your chest. Biting your lip in concentration you pushed your hair back with your free hand, the other one was holding your datapad, as you sighed deeply. You were frustrated, there was no other way to describe it. All the letters you wrote down seemed to laugh at you whenever you glared at them in anger when you weren't able to decipher their meaning. With a groan you put the datapad down on the floor beside you. You just couldn't look at it anymore, and stretched all your limbs away from your body, melting into the seat. You tried to focus on your breathing, to calm down your frustrated thoughts. Your goal of forming at least one sentence seemed even further away now than when you started your little mission. There were just too many inconsistencies. Sometimes you thought you finally figured out what the nickname he called the kid by meant only for him to call you by the same name. You were sure that Din wasn't calling you by a name that would translate to "child". You furrowed your brows. At least you hoped so for his sake. But one word that left you especially baffled was "REE-yay". You couldn't quite pinpoint when he started to call you that but it must have been very early on. And you could never figure out a consistent usage or meaning. At first you thought that it maybe just meant girl or woman? But you weren't so sure about that anymore. It somehow didn't feel right. The word felt too … intimate to only mean girl or woman. You huffed and scratched your neck in an attempt to soothe the aching and to sort your thoughts. You just wanted to figure out what he was calling you at that point. You didn't even care anymore if you had to ask Din to finally figure it out. You just wanted some clarity. "What are you worrying about?" You leaned your head back to look at Din who was standing behind you, his hands on the back of the seat to either side of your head. For a moment you just stared at him, in awe of how the flickering lights of hyperspace reflected on his armor in such a stark contrast to the void of his black visor. Something so typically Din in a way. You quickly shook your head and lowered your gaze when you felt heat rise to your cheeks. "I'm not worrying, just thinking" you mumbled and crossed your arms before your chest. Din chuckled lowly behind you and then sat down in the pilot seat beside you. "What is my verd'ika thinking about then?" Your body tensed, not only because of the new nickname but primarily because of the "my" he had put before it. What did he mean by that? What was he calling you? My friend? My buddy? My ... woman? You almost yelped at that thought but managed to force your jaw to stay shut. With your eyes wide and round you stared at the Mandalorian. His gaze was lowered and focused on the switches and buttons before him but not in an embarrassed manner or in an attempt to hide from your gaze. He seemed carefree and relaxed. He wouldn't just call you "his woman" and not react, right? You faintly nodded at yourself. No, this nickname meant something else. It had to because you weren't sure if your heart could take anything else. You blinked and noticed that Din was now facing you, his head tilted to one side in question. With heat rising to your face once again you noticed that you hadn't answered him yet. "Ehm, nothing really. Nothing important, don't worry." You bit your lip and cursed silently at yourself. This could have been your chance to ask him. To ask him what all those names meant. But you didn't. _______________ "Can you hold this, ner ka'ra?" Din asked and handed you a tool without turning to look at you. "O-of course" you stumbled and took the tool from him, so he had a free hand to grab the cable that had come loose yet again. You gulped and pushed your hair back while you glanced at Din's back as he continued to work. The nickname he had called you was already well known by you. He had started to call you that and that other word "REE-yay" more frequently ever since one week or two. Almost no other nickname or word in Mando'a left his lips anymore, which made it rather difficult to achieve your goal of learning one sentence in that language. And you still had no idea what the nicknames meant either. You figured that "nair" translated to "my" but that only made your face heat up even more than before. "Riye?" Your eyes snapped back to his dark visor that was now turned to you. Embarrassed you realized that you had spaced out and probably missed something he had said to you. "What?" you asked, your eyes wide and unblinkingly staring at his helmet hiding his eyes from you. Din let out a sigh and completely turned around to face you. You gulped and redirected your gaze upwards. "Something is on your mind. What is bothering you?" "Always so direct" you joked and laughed nervously, fumbling with the tool in your hand. "Riye" he addressed you carefully but with a slight warning in his tone. He was serious. You bit your lip and stared down at the ground, not able to hold his gaze. But you stayed quiet. With your mind racing circles in your mind, you couldn't decide if you wanted to finally ask him or not. When you felt hands on your shoulders your head shot up and met with the void of Din's visor again. You gulped, your eyes flickering from the visor then to the wall and back to his visor repeatedly. Then you let out a long sigh. Without a word you put the tool in your pocket and instead grabbed your datapad and quickly pushed it against his chest before you could retrack again. Perplexed Din lowered his head to stare at your hands before he slowly took the datapad from you. Silently he read through all the words you had typed down. "I tried to note down all the words you speak in Mando'a and translate them" you began to explain, fiddling with your hands while your eyes were directed to the floor once again. "But I only managed to figure out their rough pronunciation and write down some notes, I... I really struggle with their meaning" you continued to ramble. When Din didn't react after a few long heartbeats, you cautiously glanced up at the silent Mandalorian. He was unmovingly staring down at your datapad, his body completely tense. Then suddenly his head snapped up to meet your gaze. "When did you start doing that?" Confused you blinked for a few seconds, trying to sort your thoughts. "Ehm, a few weeks? Maybe two months or more?" you guessed and shrugged your shoulders. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to at least learn one full sentence to surprise you with it but..." you didn't finish and just gestured to your chaotic notes that mostly consisted of furious question marks. Din looked back down at the datapad. "Why?" You furrowed your brows. "Why?" you asked to make sure you heard him correctly. The Mandalorian nodded, his helmet still lowered but you weren't sure if he wasn't maybe looking at you. Out of reflex you pointed at him. "Because..." you cleared your throat. "Because of you." Your clasped your hands before your chest after that, your eyes darting around again in nervousness. Din slowly lifted his head and you felt his gaze burning on your skin form behind the visor. Both of you stood there, frozen and not daring to breathe for what felt like an eternity. You bit your lip and began to fumble with your hands again. "I-" Din started. "I don't know what to say." You couldn't hold back your laugh, the nervous giggles that finally spilled over your lips as you shook your head. "Sorry" you said breathlessly, the laughter still very noticeable in your voice, though. "I don't know why I'm laughing." That made Din laugh, too. He handed you back your datapad when you had calmed down. "I'm impressed" he stated and pointed at the device. "Most of the pronunciations are correct. But the translations..." He chuckled lowly and stemmed his hands against his hips. You crossed your arms before your chest and raise done eyebrow at him. "What do you call me then?" "What?" Din asked perplex, the laughter suddenly vanished from his voice. He almost sounded... flustered? Or at least surprised. "You said the translations of the words were wrong so teach me what they really mean" you proposed with your chin slightly raised in a challenging manner. You grabbed your datapad again and looked through the words as you continued. "Most of the words I wrote down are nicknames, so what are you calling me?" Din froze, you couldn't even see his chest rise and fall anymore. Now you were pretty sure that he was flustered and embarrassed. Or maybe even scared that you would figure out the meaning of his nicknames for you? Your body vibrated in anticipation, eager to finally get to know what all those nicknames mean. "Din?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed. "What does "REE-yay" mean?" For a few more moments he stayed still before he cleared his throat and tilted his helmet away from you, staring at the wall behind you. "What does... riye mean?" he questioned, his voice uncharacteristically high and trembling. You hummed and nodded. "Ehm, it means..." he started and directed his head back to face you. "It means favor, benefit or good turn." You furrowed your brows. "Good turn? Benefit?" you asked confused. "What does that have to do with me?" "When used as a term of endearment it means that this person, upon meeting, changed live for the better" he explained quickly. "Just like how you change my life for the better." Your eyes grew wide. "Wha-what?" Din slowly reached for you without another word and placed his gloved hand on your cheek that was already burning again in embarrassment. "You made my life better, riye. You and ad'ika, the kid." Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes stared into the void of his visor, selfishly longing to peek behind it to see if his eyes were equally as wide as yours. "I-" you began but you had no idea what you even wanted to say. Your eyes darted around again as you tried to find the words, any words. But Din's hand on your face, his thumb drawing slow circles on your cheek, made you shiver and gasp for air. You had expected a lot but nothing like that. You hadn't been prepared for that confession. You had no idea what to say, so instead you just let your datapad fall to the ground and placed your hands to either side of his helmet. Din tensed but when he realized you weren't about to move any further, he let his hand wander from your cheek to your eyes, covering them completely, leaving you in the dark. Then he placed his free hand over one of yours. The touch sent shivers down your spine and you felt your heart beat repeatedly against your ribs in anticipation. Then he slowly guided your hand up, lifting his helmet in the process. It didn't move up much, just enough for him to place his lips on yours. Your heart skipped a beat when his lips melted over yours, dancing against them, tugging at your bottom lip ever so slightly. You gasped and stepped closer, pressing your chest against his. Even with his hand covering them you shut your eyes tight, as you soaked in the feeling of his lips, rough and soft at the same time. The heat spread from your cheeks to your neck and further down until it settled in your stomach. The flames in your belly hungrily fluttered and stretched towards Din, craving his touch and more. Your fingers began to tremble against his helmet, unable to hold onto anything. You let out a short whine at that and pressed even further into him. The coldness of his beskar, however, did nothing to soothe the fire in your veins. Slowly Din pulled away, his lips still hovering over yours, touching ever so slightly. "You changed my life for the better, too" you whispered into the dark, a small smile adorning your face now. And before you knew it Din's lips were back on yours.

_________________________________

Taglists:

Permanent Simps: @buckysalefty

Din Djarin Simps: @theflightytemptressadventure / @sarahjkl82-blog / @remmysbounty / @cali-beaches-wakes-and-boards / @idekah / @freeshavocadoooo / @dindaddy / @wonderless-screwup​

If you want to be added/removed/switched to another taglist at any point just let me know!

The crossed out names I couldn’t tag normally (I had to do some coding for it to work) so PLEASE check if “Allow this blog to appear in search results” or anything similar regarding tagging in your settings is turned ON for your blog! I hope that works so I can tag you more easily the next time, BUT if your name is still crossed out the next time shoot me a message to let me know you turned it on but it still isn’t work, please. I’ll try to find another solution for it then.Thank you! 💜

[kian-bera]

July 12th

July 12th

You May be asking what’s so important about today’s date that I made a whole thing about it. Well today is the death day of one Alexander Hamilton

215 years and a day ago Alexander met Aaron Burr in Weehawken, New Jersey. It was the result of long bitter tensions between the two men, starting with Aaron Burr won a senate seat over Philip Schuyler, Alexander’s father in law. Hamilton wrote many bitter letters about the senator often to his friend and former army companion James Mchenry. Part of a letter reads as follows,

”Nothing has given me so much chagrin as the Intelligence that the Federal party were thinking seriously of supporting Mr. Burr for president. I should consider the execution of the plan as devoting the country and signing their own death warrant. Mr. Burr will probably make stipulations, but he will laugh in his sleeve while he makes them and will break them the first moment it may serve his purpose.”

Aaron ran for Governor of the state of New York when he realized that he had no chance against Jefferson in the 1804 election. Hamilton worked with the opposing party campaigning against Burr, causing him to loose to Morgan Lewis.

Both men had been involved in duels in the past. Hamilton having been in 10 previous duels and aiding as a second in two.

The dueling grounds had been used for 10 previous known duels between the years of 1700-1845.

Burr, William Peter Van Ness ,his second, Matthew L. Davis, and another man, who some speculate to be a man by the name John Swarthout, and the rowers arrived across the Hudson at 6:30 am. Hamilton, Nathaniel Pendleton , his second, and Davis Hosack arrived a few minutes before seven. Lots were cast for first choice on gun and who’s second would initiate the duel. Both were won by Hamilton’s second.

First hand accounts of the duel agree that there were two shots fired. One hitting a branch above Burr’s Head, the other striking Hamilton right above his right hip. The bullet ricocheted off a false rib fracturing it and causing damage to his internal organs.

Pendleton’s account stayed that Hamilton fell to the ground immediately. Burr stepped forward in a speechless manner as if he were in shock before being hustled away by Van Ness.

No one knows who shot first as the seconds were turned away from the sight. Both did so, so they later they could testify ‘they saw no fire’.

After much research, historian Jospeh Ellis gave his best guess as to what happened.

“Hamilton did fire his weapon intentionally, and he fired first. But he aimed to miss Burr, sending his ball into the tree above and behind Burr's location. In so doing, he did not withhold his shot, but he did waste it, thereby honoring his pre-duel pledge. Meanwhile, Burr, who did not know about the pledge, did know that a projectile from Hamilton's gun had whizzed past him and crashed into the tree to his rear. According to the principles of the code duello, Burr was perfectly justified in taking deadly aim at Hamilton and firing to kill.”

Hosack wrote an account of what he saw that day at the duel about a month later on August 17th. He had testified that he had only seen Hamilton and the two seconds disappear into the woods. He heard two shots and ran out to find a wounded Hamilton. He testified that he had not seen Burr who was hidden behind an umbrella carried by Van Ness. He gave a clear picture of the events actions in a letter to William Coleman.

“When called to him upon his receiving the fatal wound, I found him half sitting on the ground, supported in the arms of Mr. Pendleton. His countenance of death I shall never forget. He had at that instant just strength to say, "This is a mortal wound, doctor;" when he sunk away, and became to all appearance lifeless. I immediately stripped up his clothes, and soon, alas I ascertained that the direction of the ball must have been through some vital part. His pulses were not to be felt, his respiration was entirely suspended, and, upon laying my hand on his heart and perceiving no motion there, I considered him as irrecoverably gone. I, however, observed to Mr. Pendleton, that the only chance for his reviving was immediately to get him upon the water. We therefore lifted him up, and carried him out of the wood to the margin of the bank, where the bargemen aided us in conveying him into the boat, which immediately put off. During all this time I could not discover the least symptom of returning life. I now rubbed his face, lips, and temples with spirits of hartshorn, applied it to his neck and breast, and to the wrists and palms of his hands, and endeavoured to pour some into his mouth. Soon after recovering his sight, he happened to cast his eye upon the case of pistols, and observing the one that he had had in his hand lying on the outside, he said, "Take care of that pistol; it is undischarged, and still cocked; it may go off and do harm. Pendleton knows" (attempting to turn his head towards him) "that I did not intend to fire at him." "Yes," said Mr. Pendleton, understanding his wish, "I have already made Dr. Hosack acquainted with your determination as to that." He then closed his eyes and remained calm, without any disposition to speak; nor did he say much afterward, except in reply to my questions. He asked me once or twice how I found his pulse; and he informed me that his lower extremities had lost all feeling, manifesting to me that he entertained no hopes that he should long survive.”

Pendleton and Van Ness issues a press statement about the events of the duel and the rules of which were agreed upon. Later in an amended version of Pendleton’s statement, he and a friend went back to the dueling site a day after to find where Hamilton’s bullet had gone. The statement reads as,

“They ascertained that the ball passed through the limb of a cedar tree, at an elevation of about twelve feet and a half, perpendicularly from the ground, between thirteen and fourteen feet from the mark on which General Hamilton stood, and about four feet wide of the direct line between him and Col. Burr, on the right side; he having fallen on the left.”

The pistols used in the duel belong to Hamilton’s brother in law John Church Baker, who was a business partner of both men. Later legend claimed that Hey were the same pistols used in 1799 in a duel against Burr and Baker. Burr however wrote in a memoir that he had supplied the pistols for that duel.

Thank you guys so much for reading this and I hoped that maybe you learned something from it. Bye

[angstymarshmallow]

take a break (Griffin x MC)

[A little note: I have a soft spot for people meeting in libraries and flirting while trying to study. Here’s a little idea that kind of wrote itself and was exactly what I needed on a kinda crappy Sunday. I have been desperate to write some griffin content for awhile now, let me indulge myself. Hope y’all enjoy!]

[Words Counted: 1833]

It was almost mid-afternoon when Rhia realized there was no use trying to finish her assignment. She slumped over her desk situated in a corner of Pentaghast’s library, wanting nothing more than the floor beneath her to suddenly open up and swallow her whole.

Ugh. Why couldn’t she memorize this blasted thing? What was stopping her from getting every detail of this spell right? This wasn’t like her, Rhia Saxon wasn’t known for failure, for getting lost in her notes or her professors’ words. She was used to being at the top of her class, a pioneer in her own right when it came to academics and understanding virtually everything the second they were laid out in front of her. She had never needed more than a few minutes to process, well – everything.

But Penderghast was different. All of her experiences up until now only seemed to emphasize just how different this place was. And nothing in her life before could have prepared her for this. For how complex each class was. Regardless of how many classes she went to; each time she learned something useful – there were already a dozen other things waiting for her too.

How was she going to survive this semester – let alone four years here?

The possibilities truly seemed endless and Rhia felt overwhelmed.

Groaning for what had felt like the fourth time today, she covered her face with her hands and barely stifled the sudden urge to scream. Maybe Shreya was right. Maybe she needed a break. Frowning faintly at the thought, she flipped through another page of her notes before she heard a familiar voice somewhere in front of her.

“Don’t you ever want to take a break, Rhia?”

Startled by the sound of his voice, Rhia blinked up in surprise as familiar dark eyes met hers’. It always happened when she saw him – the first second their eyes connected which made her body react instantaneously. Gooseflesh prickled her skin and Rhia had to tug her the sleeves of her sweater to hide them.

He had a book tucked under his arm and was equipped with a smile warm enough for her to feel all the way down to her toes.

“Griffin, hey.” She hated how breathless her voice sounded the moment she said his name and averted her eyes quickly. “And to answer your question, yes. I do. Sometimes.” She paused for a moment, “okay well maybe not a lot – but between someone trying to kill me and all the weird things happening lately, let’s just say working on my assignments are a welcome distraction from the rest of reality.” She shrugged.

“Fair enough.” Griffin agreed. He pulled a seat from another table and sat in front of her.

The second his eyes lifted back to her, Rhia felt something inside her stomach flutter. Trying to ignore it, she fidgeted in her seat as he leaned forward.

“I believe in staying on top of my classes as much as the next person – you know how much my studies mean to me.” Resting his hands on the table between them, he continued. “But taking breaks are just as important too. They give your brain a chance to relax. To breathe.” His expression softened, “I know it’s been rough these past couple weeks and I’m sorry I haven’t always been there to help.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t like he could have done much anyway; the shadow monsters suspiciously always knew when she was alone.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is – I’m worried about you Rhia...” He trailed off for a moment as one of his hands reached between them, inching towards hers’. “And I know you’ve been stressed lately,” he continued slowly, “and maybe taking some time for yourself with me could help.”

She closed the rest of the inches between their fingers and the slight tingle she felt along her spine made her slightly shiver. Were her ears deceiving her or was he suggesting a date? She shook her head. “I know you mean well,” she started, biting her lower lip. “But this is how I cope. How I’ve always dealt with things. I like trying to understand every angle, every option. I need to.”

“Ever the metal attuned, eh?” His face twisted a little with disappointment before just as quickly disappearing. “Alright, then I’ll help.”

“I – what?”

“You heard me,” his grin came back – and the full weight of it made Rhia’s heart skip a beat. “If you’re going to be locked here all afternoon then let’s at least be stuck together.” His eyes dropped to her notes, “may I?”

“Uh, sure.” Wide-eyed, Rhia watched as he picked up her notebook and began sorting through her notes. He had such a look of intense concentration that Rhia suddenly felt tight-lipped. She couldn’t explain it. They’ve had other moments by themselves – but this was different. There was a table between them, and they weren’t holding each other and over-looking the stars.

“I see the problem here.”

“You do?” She tried to drag her mind back to the present before her wayward thoughts got the better of her. Stray thoughts had lingered though; the way he held her the last time they were alone, the way his lips had felt – a fissure that had built between them, the way he smiled at her as they cuddled up to each other. Focus, focus. She instructed herself thinly.

Clearing her throat, she dropped her eyes back to her book as he turned another page and pointed at her notes. “Something wrong with it?”

“Yeah,” He was suddenly leaning in again, further this time and Rhia’s stomach tightened at the lingering smell of his body wash. Had he just showered before coming to library?

The thought had sent another set of images inside her head. Images of what he looked like without any clothes on –

“It’s right…here.” His dark fingers circled a diagram she copied in class. “I think you’ve got some of the ingredients wrong.”

“Oh? Where?” Frowning a little, she bent forward until her forehead smacked right into his.  He winced a little and Rhia fumbled to apologize. “God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” She tried to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks as she reached between them to touch his forehead.

It was supposed to be a touch, a simple touch to convince herself that she didn’t leave a mark but the moment she did, she realized her mistake. His skin was unmistakeably smooth, and the spark that followed at the simple touch made her fingers shake. Her mouth opened slightly as his eyes slide to hers’. Magnetic. There was something magnetic about his eyes, how they were able to pull her in. It was how she had felt the moment they met from orientation so many months ago.

Rhia froze. Her eyes helplessly stuck at staring at him, watching in quiet fascination as he raised his hand and shifted hers’ to cup his cheek.

The gesture alone made her stomach flip.

“Has anyone ever told you- you’ve got pretty eyes?” Rhia blurted out.

A hesitant beat passed between them.

“Oh god, did I just say that out loud?” She wanted to suddenly disappear. No – more than that she wanted to pretend everything that just happened was a figment of her imagination and this whole time she was simply daydreaming about Griffin instead of him here – in the flesh.

The sound of his laugh halted her thoughts. Much to her relief, her words hadn’t sent him running from the hills. Instead, his laugh died into a smile. She kept forgetting that Griffin was unlike most people she had ever met.

His eyes were practically sparkling with amusement as they held her gaze. “I think you’re the first one.”

“Oh, well.” She said lamely. Yay me, I guess?

Did that also mean she was the only person that was interested in being more than friends – or whatever this was between them? She couldn’t be. They had only kissed twice, but Rhia liked to think that Griffin didn’t simply go around kissing just anyone.

“But I think what’s even prettier was coming in here and finding you here. “ He lowered his voice to a husky undertone. “Seeing you here.”

Oh god.  His grin was going to make her melt into a puddle, she simply knew it. Just sitting here and not turning red was going to be harder the longer they talked like this. He must know the effect he had on her.

Clearing her throat, Rhia finally mustered enough will power to drop her hand but not before he shifted to place a swift kiss across her knuckles. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She meant it as a joke but his gaze suddenly turned so serious that her throat went completely dry.

“No, just you.” He addressed with strong conviction.

“I – ” she hesitated, “you’re awfully distracting for someone that’s supposed to be helping me with my studies.” To add to her point, she exaggeratedly dropped her gaze to her notebook still sprawled between them.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

She lifted her eyes back to his as he tried to hide his smile. But it was to no avail as Rhia could still see the corner of his lips fighting to stay even. “Besides, you distract me too.” He nudged her with a foot underneath the table.

Before she could stop herself, she quirked an eyebrow at him and blurted out. “Oh yeah, how?”

“Have you seen yourself, Rhia? You light up pretty much every room you’re in.” He smiled, exerting a quiet confidence she had always admired about him. “Heck even in Thief practice yesterday, when you thought about using the Earth like that against me last minute – ” he stopped to whistle and then shook his head.

“So that’s why it was so easy to capture your flag.” Rhia teased uncharacteristically, but on the inside she was practically glowing from his compliment.

“Or maybe I just wanted you to find me.” His gaze grew intense enough for Rhia’s cheeks to grow hot. 

He certainly hadn’t made it a challenge. “You’re too distracting for your own good Langley,” she declared shaking her head. Her eyes darting between him and her notes. “Almost enough for me to want to put this off until tomorrow.” 

He was grinning again and his grin was giving her all sorts of ideas that had nothing to do with studying. “Only almost?” He tried to flutter his eyelashes innocently at her until she laughed.

“Okay, okay.” She concedes, smiling. Her cheeks ached from the effort of smiling so much but she couldn’t help it, his smile was too infectious. Actually, a lot about him was too infectious. “Let’s take a break and grab something to eat.”

“It’s a date then.” He stood first and handed her the pair of notebooks on the desk despite the seconds it took for her to recover.

Stomach fluttering, Rhia didn’t hesitate in gripping his outstretched hand and linked their fingers together. “Only if you’re buying.”

-

[bisymmetra]

i. title: détente

ii. fandom: overwatch

iii. characters/ships: jack morrison, ; gen, background ships, might be reaper76 if i make this a thing but rn it’s shipless

iv. warnings: uh, discussion of ptsd/panic attacks/nightmares, but like vaguely? like nothing triggery really but if youre sensitive, brief mention of alcohol, more specific champagne and the pop of it setting off a panic attack

v. tags: dogs, im using forty nine for jack’s age bc the timeline’s all over and i put 45 - 55 in a rng and got forty nine, angela ziegler has #connections, this is five pages and just short of 2k words wtf, tenatively, bonnie the dog, therapy dog, this is jack centered tbh but if i write more hana’s getting a cat, idk if i truly like this

vi. summary: “Uh,” Jack says, the stumble coming out before he can stop it. “That’s a dog.”

“It sure is,” Angela says agreeably, depositing it in his arms and sipping her coffee. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s June,” he deadpanned, as the wriggling little thing laps at his visor.

vii. notes: i wrote this in an hour and i dont know if i truly like it but bonnie the dog is a thing now. i literally just listened to alberta by eric clapton while writing this. will be on ao3 in half an hour. @snowsheba​ saw these hcs that inspired this first. 

It’s four in the morning the first time he tells Angela about the dreams.

Nightmares, really. The kind that leave him grasping at catching his breath, the sweat on his brow chilly wet and clingy in the Spanish night. The kind that leaves your heart thrumming in his ears. He doesn’t - he doesn’t think this is anything important, really. It should be expected, really. He’s old, now, and he’s been military for forty damn years. He’s seen some shit.

Most people who got up real early to find him already awake didn’t question it - dreams of their own, he guessed, or maybe just expecting career military to be up at the crack of dawn. And they weren’t wholly wrong - years on a farm and years in the military have him waking up earlier than most the base, on the nights where he doesn’t wake up around two or three.

It’s the fourth time that Angela’s woken up at three in the morning to find him awake. The kitchen. this time. The practice range twice before, and once in between that in one of the commons, a book on his lap. (He didn’t much like being there, on one of those nights, but he’d had a nightmare about an incident in Kuwait, and the walls of the room had been suffocating. Hana had also been sitting there, playing some vintage game in the low light. He figured they were there for similar reasons, and didn’t say a word for hours.)

“Jack,” Angela said. The clock on the wall is a bright, neon blue 3:49 AM. Jack, to his credit, manages to look up from his coffee and at her. In the fluorescent kitchen light, her dark circles look more prominent, the mess of her hair tied in a loose not. She has a bottle of water in her hand. She looks exhausted. Momentarily, he wonders how much sleep she’s getting, then feels like a hypocrite.

“Angela,” he musters, swallowing. “Lovely morning.”

“The sun won’t be up for another few hours,” she said. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, which - it isn’t a lie, really. He couldn’t get back to sleep, after tonight.

“Doesn’t seem like you ever do,” she says, sliding down across from him. “That’s not good for your health.”

“I get a few hours,” he says. Three and a half, tonight. “Could be worse.”

“Jack,” she admonishes. “This isn’t - have you been dreaming?”

“Most people do sometimes,” he says, which - technically correct, but not what she’s asking. There is a beat, which is mostly filled with Angela frowning deeply at him and Jack staring at his coffee. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Except it doesn’t really work, because Angela is phenomenal at seeing through bullshit, and this isn’t the first accident she’s seen. (There was once, with a bottle of champagne, and the noise and laughing sounds like screaming so easily and. Jack had excused himself, mumbling, hands shaking. Angela had followed when everyone was distracted. Angela knows. How could he think he could win at lying to her?)

“There are people who can help with - everything,” she says. “I know a few that are - they’re good.” Jack fixates on everything but Angela’s face, feeling naked without the visor. He instead stares at where her neck meets her shoulder, the marks Fareeha had left. There’s a stain on her shirt’s collar, of what’s chocolate, coffee, or blood. It’s dried brown, almost reddish brown in the light. Out the window, the Gibraltar night is interrupted with crickets.

He wonders what Angela dreams of. People she couldn’t save, his mind fills in. Genji’s corpse-body, when they first brought him in. People she can’t save. Gunshots.

Jack sighs. It’s a gesture that makes him feel older than he is.

“They’re just bad dreams,” he says, voice low and deep. It feels like a confession. “Omnic Crisis. Overwatch. Old things. I’m an old man, Angela, it doesn’t mean anything’s wrong just because it keeps me up.”

“You’re not that old, compared to the average,” she muses absently. “You’re only forty nine.”

“Fifty in a few weeks,” he said, hoping for a diversion. “I’m not a young man anymore, anyway. And I can’t really see a therapist, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Why not?”

“I’m legally dead, remember?” Angela nods, clearly contemplative. He closes his eyes. “‘s just dreams, either way. Doesn’t matter a bit.”

There’s a long pause. Angela rises from her seat. “Good night, Jack,” she murmurs.

For days, he waits to see if Angela brings it up again, or tells someone, or something. He’s worried about it.

It’s just dreams, and anxiety and - it doesn’t matter. He just doesn’t want people to look at him differently. But no one does and Angela doesn’t say anything. It’s almost as if their early morning conversation is forgotten.

It’s been nine days when he first realizes Angela didn’t forget at all. He’s sitting in a common room, talked into joining most of the other agents. People are mostly in their own groups. Hana and Genji are playing some Mario Kart thing, the engineers at a table discussing - schematics, he thinks, but he’d heard the words Pop Tarts and doubted himself - Jesse and Hanzo and Fareeha talking in soft voices. Lena, Reinhardt and Ana at a table, Wid- Amelie, he corrects himself - Amelie joining them. Sombra and Lucio at a table hollering about the game Hana and Genji are playing. Who had cajoled two thirds of their ex Talon agents and how is lost on him, but he’s almost glad Gabriel wasn’t here, even knowing - this is a talk for another day. Jack is at one of the old, worn seats, an old book in his lap.

“Jack!” Angela’s voice comes in from the hall, and most look up as she pushes the door open with her hip. It takes only a moment to discern why: in one hand is a mug of what is definitely coffee, and the other is a -

“I got you a present, you’re welcome,” Angela says.

“Uh,” Jack says, the stumble coming out before he can stop it. “That’s a dog.”

“It sure is,” Angela says agreeably, depositing it in his arms and sipping her coffee. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s June,” he deadpanned, as the wriggling little thing laps at his visor.

“Happy early birthday,” she replies. “You turn fifty in two weeks. There.”

The puppy - which, relatively, is pretty big, a St Bernard if he had to guess - laps at his cheek next. “This is a dog,” he repeats. “Where did you get this?”

“Her,” Angela corrects. “She flunked out of being a therapy dog because she liked to lick strangers or something along those lines. She needed a home. Dogs, I’ve been told, lower stress. You’re going to give yourself a stroke or a heart attack at this rate.”

In that moment, he realizes this is about what they discussed but Angela doesn’t want to say it in public. He can appreciate that much. “Can we even keep a-”

Lena is by his side, scooping her up in a second. Her, the dog, not Angela. “Why are you protesting? It’s a dog! Accept it and move on.” The dog licks Lena’s face delightedly, and everyone resumes talking over each other about - well. Jack rises, giving Angela a look. She just grins back, satisfied.

“Fine,” he acquiesces. Arguing isn’t going to do much, anyway. Angela’d kill him if he tried to return her, anyway, even if he hasn’t had a dog since he was a teenager. His family had kept hunting and herding dogs, all of which loved his mother more than anything. She gave them the most scraps. Lena shoves the bundle of fur back into his arms after one last lick, and he stares at her as she returns to licking his face. Her, the dog, that is. Not Lena.

The dog follows him around all the time. When he sits, she sits on his feet, gets comfortable. Angela tells him she’s a six month St. Bernard. They called her Nessie in training, but she never learned the name and really, it just makes him think of conspiracy theories. (Dimly, he remembers Reinhardt rambling about - he really wants to say Bigfoot, but the memory is twenty five years old.)

He mostly just calls her Dog, which outrages an alarming amount of people. Expectedly, Ana, Lena, and Angela are most fond of Dog. Unexpectedly, he’s caught Hanzo giving her scraps four times in three days. When he enters a room that Hanzo and Bonnie are already in, she’s in his lap and he looks like a deer in the headlights. (It’s actually really fucking funny.)

He sets her on the floor before bed, but she’s always curled up next to him when he awakens, like a really furry pillow.

It takes five days for him to really get used to the idea she could provide actual help.

It’s - another bad dream, because of course it is. Jack gasps for breath, kicks off the blanket, brow slick cool with sweat. His heart pounds in his ears. Him kicking the blankets must of woke the Dog, as she bounces up, presses next to him.

She shoves her head and back against his hands, in a way that would be petting if it was his hands moving, not her body. She licks his face tentatively, as if seeing if that helps. Jack can feel his heart start to slow, faster than his normal calm down times. He moves his hands, callouses running against soft fur. Dog takes this as encouragement, licks him more excitedly. Jack closes his eyes.

Normally, he’d get up. He wouldn’t be back asleep regardless, so he may as well get up. But Dog settles in next to him, and petting her evens him out, makes it easier to settle. He lets himself be lulled to sleep.

In the morning, he names her Bonnie. It seems fitting, somehow. She seems like a Bonnie. He’ll talk to Angela about a collar, soon.

In the meantime, he sits down at the cafeteria table, Bonnie by his feet, and pretend he doesn’t see no less than five people feeding her scraps.

He goes on a day long mission on July 3rd. His birthday’s the next day (he’s getting old, he thinks). It’s a short thing, mission wise. Fifteen hours securing a payload in the heart of London and back.

He’s with Lucio, D.Va, Genji, Mei, and Sombra for it, all these young kids making him feel much older than he is. (Mei, Genji, and Sombra are all in their thirties, he remembers. But he’s fifty tomorrow. They’re kids to him, anyway. They all have much more.. zest than he does.)

He gets back late, and he’s a little sad to not have Bonnie at the door when he enters the room. He discards his jacket to the desk and changes fast, glancing at the bed to locate his dog. She’s sleeping in her exact normal spot, with an approximately Jack sized spot next to her. Jack slides in next to her, and she shifts awake, moving to press into him. She licks his face hello, and he calms her by petting her back for a few minutes.

He breathes easy, relaxed. After a few, he glances at the clock. 12:02.

“Happy birthday,” he hums warmly, closing his eyes.

He sleeps well that night.

now on ao3!