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netherfeildren · 1 year ago

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Pink : Part I : Humanist Seeking Person in Love

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Humanism: an outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.

The story of a son who won’t love you, and his father, who will.

-OR-

the father-in-law AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Slow burn but like not really; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 7.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

1. Humanist Seeking Person in Love

The video you’d watched had said that the differences between a jamb nut and a coupling nut should have been obvious. A jamb nut, which was what you were currently looking for, was typically half as tall as a standard nut, or a coupling nut, and would be of a small, stouter shape compared to the other options. As you stare at the wall of overwhelming stock, the incomprehensible mess of steel, PVC, aluminum and plastic hardware you feel, a little bit, like you’d like to start screaming as loud as you possibly can, for as long as you possibly can. Just a rip roaring and rageful, top of your lungs, screech. Maybe it’d scare the leering men around you. Maybe they’d desist from the ogling of your ass in the tight confines of your ratty leggings, or the mildly pitying glances as your frustration and confusion becomes more and more obvious.

You try and take a deep breath, glancing down at your phone again and the screenshots you’d taken of the parts you need to fix your leaky kitchen sink. Zooming in, you hold the picture up next to the pipeware currently gripped in your sweaty hand and wonder again if what you’ve chosen is the right piece. You don’t understand why the hardware store, a local business, isn’t as neatly and efficiently organized as the larger chains, and why they make it so damn hard for someone without experience to come in and shop. You don’t want to buy the wrong thing and waste the money you already don’t have, you don’t want to have to make the trek back to this God awful fucking place. You hate the hardware store, you hate the way it smells, dusty and wooden, the cavernous hollow echo of it, the leering gazes of the men shopping, looking at you as if you’re some helpless child, something soft and easy to snap up and eat. You hate the memory of following your father around on many a Sunday morning after he’d forced you to come with him in some false attempt at bonding, at spending time together when really all it was, was another instance of you cowering behind him, trying to make yourself as silent and small as possible so as to avoid his anger and irritation.

You look back down at the piece of PVC in your clutch, at the picture of what you’re supposed to be buying again, back at the other option, a copper bolt you think might look right but can’t really tell the difference, and you feel the backs of your eyes pinch and go hot and achy. A sharp, throbbing pain starting up behind your left eye and spiraling out like a stain to cover your forehead. You want to go home. You want your kitchen sink to stop leaking. You want the past year to never have happened. For your marriage to not have so irrevocably unraveled that the husband you’d so desperately fought to keep had left you out in the cold, divorced, very nearly penniless in a new apartment that you couldn’t make feel like home no matter how many fall scented candles and throw pillows you stuffed into every nook and cranny. You want to not have to make decisions like these and take care of things like this. You want very, very badly for someone else to come and take care of you, help you, make the choices that seem very hard in the moment but that, in the grand scheme of things, aren’t really so difficult, but that still sometimes call for a second opinion, wiser, more experienced hands.

And in that next blink, in a soft, deep voice that should not be as easily recognizable in your mind as it is given the handful of times you’ve actually heard it, your name, being murmured from behind you. The lilt of a question, the gruff of shock coating the syllables as it pushes against your bare nape. Soft as a sledgehammer, like ice water down your naked back, your shoulders hitch up to your ears, going tense and frightened, a hot flush of shame spilling through you, the keenest desire to run away from that soft voice as fast as your stupidly October flip flopped feet’ll take you. You hiccup the half sound of his name, not turning around, lashes fluttering quickly to prevent the dry heat of your eyes from spilling over, nerveless fingers going listless around the plastic nut. You don’t want to turn around. This is a cursed place, this hardware store, and you should never have come, and you really do hate it here. Deep breath, deep breath. Be polite, be succinct. You don’t need to talk to him. You don’t need to think about the past. Fuck the sink, fuck the pipes. You’ll just move apartments. You let a long stream of air out of your mouth, and then turn on the ball of your foot to face him.

“Mr. Miller,” you breathe with a limp smile you know isn’t going to fool anyone.

He frowns, the line of his mouth wavering as he tries to contain his displeasure. “We really back to that?” You shake your head, looking away from him as the last shopper in the aisle you’re inhabiting walks away, leaving the two of you alone. The store suddenly seems to exist in a vacuum echo, all other patrons seeming to disappear, all sound going out. You even feel the imitation of a hollow pop in your ear drums. When you look back at him, he’s really scowling now. His strong brow pulled down over those too pretty, thickly lashed hazel eyes that you know so well on another man, a younger version of him.

It was the first thing you’d noticed about him, the first time Sam had introduced you to his father, they have the same eyes. The same but different. There was a coldness to Sam’s gaze that you hadn’t recognized until it was too late for you, but you recognized it now, with a painful sort of awareness, recognized the lack thereof in his father’s eyes, how different they were even in their similarity.

He raises his brows at you, a pressing gesture, “Joel.” His name feels like salt on an open sore in your mouth. “What are you doing here?” And he looks at you, just a little bit, like you’re an idiot, or maybe that’s only you, for his voice is gentle when he says, “Pickin’ up supplies with some of the boys on my crew. What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart? Sam with you?” Your heart beats like that of a small and hunted creature, pounding painfully against the confines of your ribs while a hot, humiliated flush washes through your entire body, heat suffusing your face so intensely there’s probably steam rising off the surface of your skin. You shake your head quickly, a barely there jerk. You’re suddenly trembling so hard your throat aches as if it’s been pierced by a lancet straight through. Another sharp jerk, and he steps forward a concerned look marring his face.

“You haven’t spoken to him.” It isn’t a question.

“He’s been feildin’ my calls for months. Assumed I’d done something– something else, last time to piss him off again. What’s wrong? Everything okay?” He pauses, head tilting, and you can’t look him in the face as you say it, gaze falling to your fingers twisted around the nut.

“We’re not together anymore. He– he left me. We got divorced six months ago.”

Shocked into silence he takes another step towards you, the toe of his heavy boot coming into your eye line. The ends are thick and rounded, and you wonder if there’s a casing of steel within, how much a kick in the ribs would hurt delivered by a boot like that, and the violent thought startles you, your eyes going wide, shooting up to his face as if worried he could read your thoughts. Ashamed that something like that in reference to him would even cross your mind, for looking at him, the gentleness in his gaze, the utter concern, a man like this would never hurt a creature softer than him, you know that.

It’s funny, or strange, or a phenomena not easily understandable or explainable unless you’d had a certain type of experience with a certain type of man, but there was a sort of sixth sense instilled in a person who’d dealt with cruel men that made it easy to recognize when one had the capacity to hurt you and when he didn’t. There were, of course, those who were good at masking it, but there was always something, a way they held themselves or moved around others, the cadence of their voices, clues that spoke of the sort of man he was. And from the first moment you’d met him, you’d thought Joel had something that spoke only of gentleness. Despite his size and seemingly rough aspect, there was something about his voice, and the way he carried himself, the way he moved around those who were smaller or weaker or less, less alive, less potent than him, that was always careful and always aware.

“What?” He moves as if he’s going to reach for you, and you flinch back, the curve of your spine bumping into the framing of the shelves behind you, face turning away quickly. He goes tense, forcing himself into stillness, the white of his teeth flashing in a grimace, but he puts his palms up in a staying gesture, it’s alright, easy, he murmurs, I won’t touch you, hands lowering to fist in the pockets of his jeans into tight balls of false restraint. As if he’s afraid of what they might do of their own volition otherwise. “What do you mean he left you? What happened? He–”

“I don’t want to discuss this with you. Call him again or– or I don’t know. It’s not my business anymore. He was never happy with me,” you stupidly add, finally braving a look back at his eyes again, a bitter laugh scratching up your throat, “You know this. Call your son, Joel.”

You move to leave, to get away from him, but he shifts, blocking your escape, sending your heart up into your throat. “Honey, wait–” but you’re spinning on your heel the other way, stumbling in your flip flops, and you think he says something about the wrong way, but you’re rushing, blindly trying to get away from him down the aisle as fast as you can. You’re going to cry, you can feel it, any second now. You weren’t expecting to see him, the reminder of everything that had happened, your marriage and its failure and the part Joel had played in it. A painful and jarring shock to your nervous system that you’d not been prepared to receive. You blindly scramble through the aisles of the hardware store, losing yourself to the gloom of the dimly lit back rows where plywood and carpeting are stocked, that detested dusty hollow smell intensifying. You take another blind turn, another, until the sounds of the store have gone faint and then a frightening pressurized silence. Bracing your palms against one of the eye level shelves you let your head fall between your shoulders, your bag sliding down your arm to hang and sway at the bend of your elbow. You watch the slow back and forth pendulous movement, eyes wide and blurred. If you don’t blink, you won’t cry, and you’re so fucking tired of crying over this.

“If you were tryn’a get away from me, exit was in the opposite direction,” comes his voice again. Your eyes flutter shut, a single tear drips from the line of your lashes onto the dusty concrete floor.

“Please, go away,” you croak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“What do you think happened? Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“He– he’s a fuckin’ idiot, sweetheart–”

Your stomach lurches, “Don’t call me that.”

But he doesn’t listen, continues on unheeded. “There’s gotta be something we can do. I’ll– I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him see that–” You let your head fall back the opposite way now, looking up at the high, cavernous ceiling of the store, another bitter laugh. It’s the only kind left to you now.

“I don’t want him back, Joel. Be serious.”

“He needs you–” And oh, that makes you angry.

“Fuck you.” You spin around to spit the words at him, rushing forward to shove at his rock solid chest. He doesn’t budge even half an inch. You shove again, again, a humiliating sob making its way up your chest. You blink then, you can’t help it, the tears fall unrestrained. It’s a specific type of humiliating, facing the estranged father of the man who you’d been married to, who’d been unable to love you, who’d abandoned you.

Sam and Joel had been unaware of each other’s existence for almost twenty eight years, but two years ago, Sam’s mother had finally told him about his father, his name, where he lived, how they’d gotten together when they were too young, and how she’d split, scared and vulnerable, without telling him a thing. The two of you’d gone looking for the man, and you’d both been varying degrees of shocked at what you’d found. Sam, faced with a man so unlike himself he’d immediately resented him more than he already had for the fact of his absence his entire life. You, as well, faced with a man so unlike your husband that it had made you resent your marriage even more. Immediately welcoming, loving, patient, gracious and generous and forgiving of the fact that a son had been kept from him for almost three decades. Despite the severity of his character, his serious reservedness, he’d done everything in his power to open himself to this long lost son. Not once had the news been met with cruel anger or outrage. Joel had accepted his son immediately and without question, listening to his mother’s reasoning, accepting the fact that a mistake had been made, forgiving, willing to move on and embrace Sam in all the ways he’d been denied for so long. Sam hadn’t been able to fathom it. He’d been mistrustful, hostile, angry, all the things he always was but compounded and heightened to a terrible degree he eventually started taking out on you.

And it was funny because the fraught, or lack thereof, relationships with your fathers had been the thing that had initially bonded the two of you. Too young and alone and without direction, you’d met him in your last year of college. The relationship had immediately developed without boundaries or reason, you’d been obsessed, a little desperate, unquestioning, and then married a few short months later. Two too young, too lost people, burdened with daddy issues. A terribly sad cliche. You’d never had a chance. You never should have been. And there’s a part of you now, looking up at this man, your ex-husband’s father, that wants to feel angry at him, that wants to spit in his face and say this is all your fault, everything that happened to me, everything that was done to me was in your name, and I blame you for all of it, but you know it’s without reason or countenance. And worst of all, anger, blame, resentment, it’s not anything near to the things you feel when you look at him. The memory of a small, dark restroom flashes in your mind’s eye, his eyes gleaming above your face, the thick slope of his shoulder, the patterned wallpaper behind him, sickening comfort.

You go still and frozen, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt, jerking with a painful shiver from the top of your head, down the length of your vertebrae, to the tips of your toes that cramp and spasm. Looking up at his face, you can feel a pulse throbbing in the muscle beneath your right eye, and the way he looks down at you, as if he’s never felt as sorry for any other creature in his entire life as he does for you in this moment, so embarrassing. You let your head fall forward again, landing with a soft thump against his chest, an uncontrollable tremble moving like fire through your frame. “Fuck you,” you say again, whispered, soft and weak and without any sort of force behind it. “How dare you say that to me,” another tear. “He’s always needed you. It was never me he wanted, never me he needed. It was always you.” You watch as one hand withdraws from its pocket cage, lifting to push a soft tendril of hair back behind your ear. And there’s fire left in the wake of the brush of his skin at the hollow there. Another shiver of a worse kind, one of desire, one of lust, moves through you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it – I’m sorry, honey.” Stupid southern charm and their stupid pet names. You clutch at his shirtfront more tightly, press your forehead harder into his sternum, and he brings his hand to your shoulder, tucking you into himself more securely. He’s huge and warm and smells faintly of salt and sweat and laundry detergent. Something clean and fresh and masculine. He smells alive. His other hand comes up to the back of your head, moving through your hair. Fucking, Sam, he murmurs above you, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head in that disappointed fatherly way. “Tell me what you were looking for. What had you lookin’ so confused and irritated in the plumbing aisle?” You’d laugh if you could, a non bitter sort, but you don’t have the ability anymore, and that makes you so angry. Angry and irrational.

“My sink’s leaking, and I can’t afford a plumber because your son divorced me and left me with no money and no house and nothing for myself, and I hate this stupid place. I hate the way it smells, and I hate that nothing’s labeled clearly, and I hate the way you men,” you shove at his chest a little bit again, “look at me like I’m some dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right.” Even if that’s what you kind of feel like, a dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right anymore. Slightly out of breath, you go limp and exhausted against him. His palm flattens at the center of your spine, supporting you, and it’s so fucking inappropriate. You should move away. You don’t know him well enough for this, he’s your ex-father-in-law, you shouldn't let him touch you, but should and should not and right and wrong and inappropriate or not has never really mattered to you where Joel Miller is concerned. “This is the worst place in the whole world,” you mumble, voice muffled from where your face is squished against the annoyingly hard and delicious muscles of his chest. You feel, keenly, like you’re being a little bit ridiculous, a little bit embarrassing, but his big hand is slowly moving up and down the length of your spine, soothing and comforting, and you can’t bring yourself to care. He’d been kind from the first second you’d met him, and then, at the worst moment, he’d been understanding, and you’d never really stood a chance against him either.

You’d never had a chance with the son, you’d never stood a chance against the father, there had never really been much choice or possibility for you as a whole where either of them were concerned.

I was such a little person. Tiny in my insignificance, naivety, hope. Desperate to be as good as I could be, and pathetic in my failure to make myself into what I thought the world wanted of me.

“You can’t afford–” He breathes out roughly through his nose, stopping himself from continuing. “Do y’know what it is you’re looking for? What part?” And you nod your head, still buried against him, unable or unwilling to pull away. “Let me help you,” and he says it so, so gently that it makes you want to stomp your foot and cry and throw a fit at the unfairness of it all.

“Don’t want your help,” you can’t help the muffled whine it comes out as. All you want is for someone to help you.

“Of course you don’t, sweetheart,” he soothes. “But let me anyway. S’the least I can do for talkin’ out of my ass.” You finally pull back, looking up at him, and he brings his thumb up to catch the wetness at the fine skin beneath your eye. “Please, don’t cry,” he whispers like it hurts him.

And even though he’s currently catching the salt of your eyes with his fingers, you lie obstinately, “I’m not,” whispered back just as quiet.

After he helps you find the correct piece for your sink, finally, which ends up being neither of the options you’d been previously weighing, a fact that almost sends you over the deep end again, and paying for it at his aggravating and overbearing insistence, he walks you to your car.

“Is he still in Austin?” He asks as he holds your door open for you, your shopping bag still clutched in his hand. One of the guys on his crew had come to find him while you were checking out, but he’d sent him away with a shake of his head, said he had something to take care of.

“I don’t know, but he sold our house.”

“Fuck– Where’re you living?” The sound of his spit curse has a wet flutter moving through you, shame following bitterly in its wake.

“I got an apartment in the East Side.”

“And he just left you to fend for yourself? Took your fucking house?” He’s getting angry, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get angry. Something foreign like excitement jumps within you.

“Well, that’s the point of divorce, Joel. You separate and are left to your own devices.” You reach for the little plastic bag, but he jerks it out of your reach.

“He has a responsibility to you. He–”

“Again… the point of divorce.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, that boy,” he mutters, shaking his head. And that’s the thing of it, you think, that’s always been the crux of the issue. Sam was always a boy, has always been just a boy… there had never been any chance. “Let me come help you with the sink. Let me fix it for you.” Something to take care of, that’s what he’d said, that’s what he’d called you, what he sees you as.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish getting the words out, full of regret, and a wish that it could have all been different from the very start. “You know that isn’t a good idea,” and he goes silent because he does, he does know, he’d known since the first time probably. It had been obvious in the way that a secret thing can only be between the two people involved in the unsaid. “I can do it myself. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”

“You still got the same number?” He asks.

“Please, don’t call me. Call Sam. He’s the one that needs you. He’s the one that–”

“And who’s taking care of you? Who’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart? You need someone too, we all do.”

A flash of that earlier anger again, and you reach forward to rip the bag out of his clutch now, angry because he’s right. Because he’d always seemed to have a grossly misplaced ability to read you exactly as you are. He’d read you for what you were from the first second he’d laid eyes on you, naive and hopeful and falsely in love with a son who’d never loved either of you in return. “Maybe,” you tell him, “But that can’t be you.” He looks away from you, gruff sound of irritation passing through his clenched teeth, and he drags a heavy palm down his bearded mouth. Fuck, again that provoking spit curse. The wallpaper in that dark restroom had been covered in little blue motifs, butter yellow details sparsed throughout. It had surprised you, the pretty and delicate design in the home of a, for all intents and purposes, bachelor. It spoke of intention and attention to detail, to his space, to care of his home. That dim moment was, strangely, sickly, the brightest memory of the entire two years of your marriage.

“You still got my number?” He presses anyways. Unheeded or uncaring of you trying to push him away, and there’s something about that, that’s pleasurable, his inability to let a thing go where you’re concerned, his unwillingness to allow you to hold him at arms length. Like he doesnt care to be kept away from you, and so he won’t. You nod your head once, face burning, molars grinding to keep yourself still and in place. You’d felt, for two years, trapped, running in place, and now left limp and exhausted and colorless, and you hope that he can’t read that exhaustion in you. For some reason, that would be more embarrassing than everything else, for him to see just how defeated you’d been left. He gives you one of those looks, those direct, piercing, aggravating looks that you’ve seen from him before, aggravating in a way that is inciting, like a relentless tongue against a slick swollen cunt, God. Your hands are shaking, and he bends his head down to your level to look at your directly, “You promise me that if you need anything, anything at all, doesn’t matter what it is – that you’ll call me. No matter the hour, no matter what it is. Promise me.” Another sharp jerk of your chin, if you talk you’ll scream or make a sound not wholly belonging to the body of a girl, woman, whatever you are. Another nod, the mute shape of an okay passing through your lips. And his face is so concerned, his hand almost lifted in the imitation of what you have to tell yourself, as a form of self preservation, is an ill intentioned caress or hug, but that you know he’d mean as nothing more than genuine comfort. You deflate in relief when he doesn’t touch you, right here, out in the open for the whole world to bear witness to. Things like that, after all, are only meant for dark, wallpapered bathrooms. He’d already taught you this.

The relationship had not been what either of them had expected, Sam and Joel, from the get go. There was a smallness to his son, a pettiness and a cruelty and a spoiled rotten vein through the core of him that was incongruous with who Joel was as a man, something that was glaringly obvious to all involved. And try as he might, in those early days, they could not overcome the disparity in their personalities. The attempts from Joel at closeness had been fraught with tension and unsaid resentments, and eventually Sam had given up, stopped answering his father’s calls, evading his attempts to connect. Your marriage had spiraled into dissolution shortly after that. As if the failure to find whatever it was he’d for so long hoped for in a relationship with his father had highlighted all of the things you yourself lacked, all the ways in which you were so specifically dissatisfying to him and always would be.

The marriage had not ended up being what either of you had hoped for, the honeymoon phase quashed and dead early on, no brightly lit halcyon. Reality had set in quickly when confronted with the disjointedness of your pairing, a bone out of place, your specific inability to please him in the ways he’d thought you would when he’d first met you. There was something about you that had always been a little bit lacking, something ascetic and cold natured about your personality at times. Since you were a child, trying to appease an unappeasable father, to emulate a singular mother. Always impossible, always falling just short of utter failure. Not so terrible that you were outwardly obvious in your mediocrity, but never everything you could be. Painfully, succinctly average. Sam had come to realize this quickly. Perhaps, unaware prior to tying himself to you because the only thing you’d ever been not average at, was being a little bit of a liar, of being placatingly complacent when the moment necessitated, manipulative in a way that you found protecting. But you see, that’s what happened when you had a cruel father who always needed appeasing, something Sam, in his abject fatherlessness, couldn't understand. Funny, you’d said that to him once, near the end, called him abjectly fatherless, his weakness a consequence of his lack of a paternal role model, and oh, how he’d hated that. Endings could bring out such cruelty in people, you’d found.

But the manipulation of a moment had become, in some ways, your only talent. The art of superficial gratification at a moment's notice as a way to keep the people around you falsely happy and calm. Like all small and frightened creatures, you’d learned your strengths well, but as all truths do, yours had eventually surfaced. The fact that you weren’t really so appeasing in the ways he desired, not so nice, not so perfect, not so subservient. That the persona was all just a way to keep him happy as a means of getting someone to love you, to stay because you didn’t know how else to be.

Your mother always said you could’ve been nicer to him. She was a kind, soft, patient thing. Quiet and easy and always, always, above everything else, understanding. It was the worst thing about her. A detriment, a weakness, and she resented you for your resentment, for seeing her as such, but you could never help it. Always asking you why you couldn’t just be a nice girl, a good girl.

You didn’t think you had not been nice, not been good. You had only been yourself.

Your father had always hated that about you, you being yourself. The man you’d chosen to marry didn’t seem to like it very much either. And she’d tried to instill her better qualities in you, your mother, so you weren’t all bad all the time. There could be a brightness and a lightness and a sweetness to you sometimes, it’s true. You weren’t always all bad. But there was – is still – also a bitterness and a resentment and an anger, a screaming that you could not quell no matter how hard you tried. And so you’d attepted to give him everything you could, your husband, everything you had at your disposal in all ways, to do and be all he could have ever asked of you during those two small years of marriage. Because truly, they had felt so very small, made you even smaller.

Everything except for sex. You’d never been able to give him that the way he’d wanted.

At first, it had been normal, sweet, soft missionary in the darkness, tepid insinuations of orgasms, always hushed, always exactly how he wanted it. But eventually, when the other parts of you began to fail, he got mean and callous and casually cruel. And as you pulled away physically, he called you frigid, a prude, boring, cold, bad in bed, didn't know how to make a man hard. And it had made you so agonizingly insecure, already a sensitive and anxious thing when it came to your physical form, he’d beaten you down, embarrassed you, belittled you.

With time, you’d realized the truth of it which had been nothing more than that you’d never really wanted him. He had never made you desperate, he had never made you wet. It was his character, his attitude, yes, but it was also him. He just wasn’t it for you, and it wasnt that you were a prude or frigid at all, only that you needed patience and understanding and care, gentleness. Things he possessed none of.

You just needed a little time to warm up and someone who wanted to give you that time.

The reality that your life had not been full of varied and foolish adventures, and that time had seemed to simply slip away like an echo in the brain from one moment to the next was duly painful. A handful of months of wan and false lust, two years of cold, bitter marriage, and now, six months of barren aloneness. Too many mistakes had been made, too many regrets, three big ones that could be held like stones scorched to burn by the sun in the palm of your hand so that even if you let them go eventually, their imprint would still be scarred into your flesh afterwards forever.

So, perhaps the divorce had been painful in the moment. Or not perhaps, there was nothing uncertain about it, you’d fought tooth and nail to make it work, to keep him with you. Prostrated and humiliated and debased yourself. But with time, it became obvious that it was a fantasy you decided you should finally cast aside, as all children do childish things at a certain age. And then, it had been the easiest thing in the world. After all, and let’s be honest now for a moment, the reckoning had come in the shape of his father. That is, at the end of it, the reason you’re really here.

Sat now, before the open cabinet below your kitchen sink, leaky pipe drip, drip, dripping monotonously in front of your glazed over eyes, you think of him. He’s a large man, intimidating and dark and stoic. Taller and broader than his son. Lush, mahogany curls streaked with silver that speak of age and experience like the smile lines around his eyes. Deeply grooved when he laughs that beautiful laugh of his. He looks exactly like the opposite of whatever his son is, like he’d have the ability to make the opposite of you, to pull out of you whatever the antithesis is of what his son was able to. It had been immediate, the nature of your thoughts towards him. The desire, the desire, the desire, you had wanted like you’d never wanted before — like an illness, like dying.

Your marriage had been circling the drain, and then you’d met him, and it should have been innocuous. He’d been kind and polite and welcoming, but also, aloof. Holding himself at a distance, something afraid that he carried within himself, like he didn't want to hope, like he was just a little bit scared of what it meant now to have a son, something to lose. You knew a little bit about that, the worst part of it all is never the cruelty, it’s the hopelessness. Everything had become so much worse after meeting him. An unbearable sort of awareness of something that your listless, frigid self recognized as man, man, man, something like hunger. Something slanted about the desire, wrong, sure, for he was your husband's father, and yet, you wanted him. You wanted to know what he smelled and tasted like, and what the weight of his cock on your tongue would feel like. If it was bigger than his sons, you were almost positive of that, if it would stretch the corners of your mouth to near splitting, the hinges of your jaw to aching.

You’d met your husband's father, and had realized, painfully, with uncompromising clarity, all that your husband could be, all that he was not, all that he would never be. There was no comparison between the boy and the man, and it made you hurt.

Your eyes flit back to the screen of your open laptop and the instructional video there, popping another fuzzy peach gummy onto the flat of your tongue, mouth full of sucking sugar. You’re going to fix this sink if it’s the last thing you do, and you’re not going to think about him again. But tomorrow, you’ll start not thinking about him tomorrow. The talent of a liar never really wanes.

The apartment is quiet, nothing but the cheerful crackling of your sweet pumpkin candle and the mocking splish splash of the drain pipe. You had, in recent weeks, come to think of your abandonment as something of an accomplishment. Perhaps, your loneliness is a good thing, you’ll tell yourself as a comfort, a sort of friend; you can’t be used against yourself again in this solitude, and oh, how you’d been used. That anemia in your character, the ascetic thread of your personality had been weaponized and wielded against you until you couldn’t tell up from down and left from right. You were certain there’d been cheating, even if you’d never had any proof to confirm it, merely grateful you’d never gotten sick as way of evidence. But you knew. And it could've been so much worse for you, of course, of course it could have. But he’d left your mind so off kilter, broken and confused and not yourself. Utterly damaged in a way that was humiliating and devastating when you thought of the way you’d been, such a little person. So often, not a woman, just a little girl.

And then his father. Joel. Seeing him today – you had never felt the way you should have felt towards him. Like your eyes were open, awake for the first time in your entire life. A man like that – he was changing. And you wanted, needed very much to be changed. Seeing him today, being presented with that reminder of what he was, how he made you feel, how he’d always made you feel. There’s something ghoulish about you concerning him – about this desire. That ascetic or anemic or under-grown, illformed thing about you, exterminated in the thrum of how alive he is. How unlike his son. You’d never known what it specifically was, never been able to categorize it, and then there had been that moment, brought so low, six feet beneath the ground sort of debased, and he’d been there and you had been – unburdened from the weight of his own son, by him, and you’re not even sure he knew the extent of it. The power he’d wielded over you in that moment in the dark. And you can’t say it out loud, what it is you’d want from him, you can’t even say out loud what it is about him that changes you as it does – not a woman, just a little girl – but you think that if you could just see him, then you’d know, or maybe you could be brave. You don’t know what it is, but you’d know it then, with him in front of you, you’d have the answer to this question that’s plagued you for so long – how to be yourself in a way that is good.

You’re pushing yourself to your feet, fueled by the thought, fingers gripped over the ledge of the counter to pull yourself up, sink forgotten, stumbling to your front door, shoving your feet into your shoes and fumbling for your keys. How to be yourself in a way that is good.

When you were seventeen, your father had been at his angriest. Angry in that way that all angry father’s are. Loud and brutish – an anger that is cowing, a sign of true weakness. Brute force in the shape of the man who gave you life. When you think of it now, even as a grown woman, you still feel that phantom limb of fear, and you know that it isn’t normal for a grown woman to be afraid of her father, and yet you are. And then to think that you’d gone from your parents home directly to the bed of the same sort of man, one even crueler, if possible. You’re forced to laugh your singular terrible, self deprecating laugh at the irony of it – even worse, if possible. For what’s worse than a person who constantly needs to be soothed into kindness and patience and calm?

Once, in that terrible seventeenth year, funny and strange and unknowingly perfect, you’d been gifted the Farmer’s Almanac by your elderly neighbor. She’d said that she’d read it since she was a girl, liked the peace in knowing that the year had been predicted by experts and put down on paper. It made life seem more secure, more in control in a small way. You’d needed that during that turbulent time, locked in your teenage bedroom, lulled to sleep by the sound of your father’s anger and the year’s long-range weather predictions before your blurry eyes. It was so comforting to be able to read the future in text, catastrophe or sunshine, at least it was there. You still read it to this day. And there’s no congruity to the thought now, as you crawl into your car, a ghoul in the night, banging your knee on the hastily opened car door, sprouting gooseflesh in the cold; this desire, desire, desire that is the worst thing you’ve ever felt in your whole life, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to stop because there is something about control in this moment also. Control like knowing what the future will be like on paper, control like a man who is entirely grown into himself, who knows who he is and who he is not and is not uncertain, who will not yell, who will not hurt you. He has this – your husband’s father – you know he does. There is something about control, there is something about knowing how a thing will be, there is something about being yourself in a way that is good.

You’d picked up the wrong wine on your way here. Rushing, trying to fix your makeup in the car, you’d gotten confused, chosen the one he didn’t want instead of the one he did. And it was nothing, or an accident, surely nothing to incite his ire, but he’s so fucking angry hovering in front of you. He looks at you, now sometimes, like he hates you, like you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. He said you’d humiliated him in front of his father. That he was going to think he didn’t have good taste, couldn’t afford a decent bottle of wine. And you don’t know Joel very well, but he doesn’t seem like the type of man to care about such things. Calling you an idiot in that poisoned shrill tone he takes on when he’s delivering a set down, and you’re trying to tell him to please, please keep your voice down, Sam, your father is going to hear you. You’d heard someone say once that a truly powerful man never feels the need to raise his voice, it simply isn’t necessary for him, and you’re reminded, terribly, of your father, with the sight of your shrill and seething husband in front of you. And then a low toned that’s enough, son from the mouth of the kitchen, and it’s so much worse, entirely catastrophic in a way, and you’re rushing away so humiliated, face on fire, tear caught over the trough of your lower lid, trying the doors in the hallway for the nearest restroom. You hear the murmur of voices, one struggling to maintain composure, the other, cool and steady, then the slam of the front door, and finally, the silent din of his house settling around the two of you as you find a restroom to hide in. Your heart beats so fast it makes you nauseous, knees strangely aching, listening to the heavy steps of Joel’s boots, as if he’s trying to warn you with those measured, weighted thuds that he’s coming, coming, coming for you. Turning to face the far corner of the restroom, you press your palm over your mouth, face slippery and burning and so stupid, the soft swoosh of the opening door, a paused breath as he takes in your form huddled into the wallpaper, and then the muted snick of the door closing behind him, shutting the two of you away together.

Part II

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#pink fic #Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #Joel Miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us au

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solitary-traveler · 1 year ago

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Seeking Sweet Serenity

You're tired after a long day and Wanderer is there to help you.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Notes: This is very self indulgent. School sucks ass and I fr need to be comforted by Wanderer.

Art: @yXaBLUGg7Yqtw1y (X)

Warning: None, this is just pure fluff.

Life is shit.

So shit.

Your natural efficiency attracted incompetency, individuals at every turn would raise their voice to seize your attention. Yet every word they spill, every letter that rolls out their tongue, were nothing but vexing phrases.

“Traveler, please help me!”

“Traveler, can you do me a favor?”

You were sick of it.

Your throat releases a sigh from its confines as you shoulder brusquely the wooden door in front of you. A feeling of tranquility often swaddles you upon entering your shared apartment with Wanderer, but right now, the solace you had found was rived from your grasp, leaving you vulnerable to animosity. Your thoughts torment your brain, tears pricking the rim of your eyes. Oh how you’d do anything to stop yourself from feeling this way.

Upon overhearing the door screech, Wanderer glances at the entrance. He caught sight of your silhouette, stumbling on your feet. The corners of his lips shifted upwards, it was amusing how much you were akin to that of a drunk person. He rests his arms around his chest, shoulders slumped against the wall. “Who killed you? You look like a corpse”, he teased.

You didn’t answer, opting to stay quiet. The stillness grew, leaving a lingering sense of unbearable silence hanging in the air.

Wanderer couldn’t help but raise a brow. You were acting most peculiar today. Usually, you would’ve returned his jab, possibly even teasing him back just to watch him squirm and insult you back. Yet you remain rooted in your place, not uttering a single term.

Sensitive to this agonizing dread of not hearing your voice, he decided to approach you. His footsteps were light, his sandals clicking across the floor boards. “You alright?” he asked, looming over you. Despite his imposing figure, he was gentle, almost afraid that he might break you with every word that slips out his mouth. Without warning, your figure clasps its hands around him, leaving the Wanderer stunned. “I’m fine”, was the reply you managed to choke out.

But he knew better. He knew you weren’t fine.

Though how was he supposed to react to this? The Wanderer was never one to deal with emotions. All throughout his life, he channeled all his emotions into a glass bottle before throwing them far away into the depths of his non-existent heart. It wasn’t healthy, he knows that now. It only escalates everything further. He has long abandoned his fervent feelings, and he was just slowly unboxing them again. He doesn’t have any clue as to how one should properly deal with them. But watching you suffer in his arms made him wish he knew. It made him wish he was well versed in the area, that he knew how to help you with your current situation.

With only one card available to play, he decided to gamble his chance. He tried a method that worked for him, a process Nahida does whenever he was emotionally unstable. With a soft sigh, he cards his gloved fingers through your locks. ”You wanna cuddle on the couch… and talk about it?” he asked, a certain softness coating his words. You merely looked up and nodded your head meekly.

Wanderer smiles.

You just want to be comforted.

And he knew that.

He'll make sure you're okay.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fanfic #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #scara x y/n #scaramouche x reader #gender nuetral reader #genshin x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact wanderer #scaramouche fanfic #wanderer fanfic #scara fanfic

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years ago

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Contaminated // D. Grayson x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY. Minors get BACK. Go yearn for the mines awaY FROM HERE. Emotions! Sex pollen but it’s enthusiastic consent. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Three months ago, Dick Grayson told you he didn’t love you anymore and walked out the door. Tonight, you found yourself the unwitting victim of a Poison Ivy attack that forces Dick Grayson to end up on your doorstep once again. Will he help or will he leave once again?

Your hands shook as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Your skin prickled as the fabric of your hoodie scraped against the sensitive skin of your arms. A desperate whimper escaped your lips at the way your very cells seemed to burn with the strength of a thousand suns.

Somehow you got your mind straight long enough to lock the door behind you before you stumbled towards your bedroom. You kicked off your shoes as you went and your hoodie soon followed. Fuck, it wasn’t enough. Everything was hot but at the same time, you felt sweaty and chilled like you had a fever.

Something was wrong.

Grabbing your phone, you fought against the blurring of your vision in order to locate the contact you needed. You knew she would pick up the phone in seconds because she was glued to her tech everyday.

“What’s up, babes?” Barbara answered after the first ring. “If you’re calling to reschedule brunch, I have terrible news for you. I won’t allow you to skip out aga-”

“Babs,” you rasped. “Something’s wrong.”

The cheery tone fell from the redhead’s voice in seconds and you heard her start typing on her keyboard. “Where are you?”

“Home. I was walking home from work when Ivy attacked the park and I think I inhaled some of the spores. I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Barbara swore under her breath. “The closest person to you is Nightwing.”

Your heart dropped. No. Not him. “Who else?”

“Everyone else is busy. I’m sorry, but I’m sending him.”

Your stomach cramped painfully, nearly knocking you to your knees, and you let out a groan. “Okay, okay. Fuck it. Fine.”

“We’re going to help you. I promise. I have to go handle something right now, but I’ll make sure I check on you.”

“Thanks, Babs.” Your breath escaped you in short pants, like a dog in heat. Fuck, it was hot in here. You wanted nothing more than to strip off your pants and shirt and lay on the cool tile of your bathroom, but you couldn’t. Not when he was coming over.

Richard Grayson, your ex boyfriend. Richard Grayson, the man who came over one night three months ago and broke up with you on your doorstep. Richard Grayson, the man you had loved for years until your heart shattered with a few words.

“I don’t love you anymore,” he had said. And then he dropped a box of your things on the doorstep and walked out of your life.

Fuck Dick Grayson. Fuck Nightwing. Fuck him and his pretty boy smile. He could go to hell.

“Shit.” As if the mere thought of your ex triggered it, you were suddenly acutely aware of the seam of your pants pressing against the sensitive flesh of your cunt. Shit shit shit, you cannot be horny in front of Dick Grayson. You just needed to keep a level and calm head until he gave you the antidote and then you could send him out on his ass.

Another wave of shaking wracked through your body and you let out a hiss of pain, doubling over until your face met the soft fabric of your comforter. Your body joined you on the mattress and you pulled yourself up until your cheek rested on the cool rayon fabric of the pillow. Curling your knees up towards your chest, you let the shakes consume you and prayed that Dick wasn’t so over you that he refused to come.

As though he heard your thoughts, you heard the window to your living room slide open. The slight screech of the old rubber sides sounded faster than normal and you figured he just wanted to get this over with.

The window shut and footsteps pounded towards the door to your bedroom. Your teeth chattered violently as you shook with this hellish hot/cold state your body had been thrust into. The shaking made it hard for you to lift your head, but you were able to make eye contact with the last man you wanted to see.

“Fuck,” Dick said in greeting. “Babs said Ivy got you, but she didn’t say it was this bad.”

You willed your jaw to stop rattling and shrugged. “Ran home so I didn’t pass out on the sidewalk or something.”

He stripped off his glove and pressed the back of his hand against your cheek. Shit. Oh fuck. Just the feel of his skin against yours was euphoric. A small mewl escaped you and your back arched in some desperate attempt to get closer to him. Dick ripped his hand away, a panicked look flitting across his masked face.

“Damnit Ivy,” he snarled.

“Am I dying?” It certainly felt like it. Your skin prickled painfully at the loss of contact and you tried to hold back the burn of tears that grew in your eyes.

“No, you’re not dying.” His hand drifted up to his ear where you knew a comms device rested. “Ivy hit her with sex pollen.”

A startled, albeit bitter, laugh escaped you and you shook your head. Of fucking course. Sex pollen meant you would have to wait for the antidote and get progressively hornier and in more pain. Or you could get off…

On autopilot, your hand drifted down to the waistband of your pants but the small part of your brain still in control screamed at you to stop. Tearing your hand away, you inhaled deeply and pressed your face further into the pillow. Not when he’s here.

“Just go get the antidote and I’ll suffer for a bit,” you snapped.

Dick barked out a sardonic laugh. “Do you really think I’m going to leave you like this?” Oh, the irony. If you weren’t burning up, you would laugh in his face and tell him to get the fuck out. All you could manage was glaring at him from your fetal position.

“I thought leaving was your specialty,” you hissed, venom lacing your tone. Your barb made a direct hit because his trained impassive face crumpled for a brief second. The cool drag of a tear along your cheek made you aware of the rising heat in your face and you brushed the tear away.

“Fuck you Richard Grayson. I know you don’t want to be here so you can go. I’ll just wait until someone can bring me the antidote.”

“You’re in pain,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, well, as if you care. I’ll just call Wally or Kaldur. Hell, I’ll call up Jason. I’m sure he won’t mind helping.”

“Stop,” he growled. “You won’t call anyone. I’m here. I’ll help you.”

Despite the aching weakness in your bones, you pushed up off the mattress so you could face him fully. Your arms trembled with exertion, but somehow you held yourself up.

“You left me. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me or whatever, but you left me and so you don’t have a right to be concerned. So do what you do best, Dick, and leave.” You were impressed by the way your voice stayed firm despite the tears streaming down your face. You were bracing yourself to see him walk out once more, leaving you in pain, both emotional and physical this time.

He turned away, showing you the kevlar spandex weave of his suit on full display. Just a few more steps and he would be out the window and out of your life again. Your breath caught in your throat, the pain surging through your veins. You whimpered and started to slowly lower yourself back down, but two strong hands settled on your shoulder and waist. Dick curled himself around you as if he could protect you from the fire licking at your insides. You shuddered at the firm pressure of his hands on you and in the moment of clarity, raised your chin to meet his gaze.

He had taken the mask off.

“It hurts,” you whispered.

His head lowered and he inhaled deeply before speaking once more. “I can’t, baby. You’re not thinking straight.”

Clasping your hands against his cheeks, you drew his head up and leveled him with a look. “Please, Dick. Make the pain go away.”

You had missed the taste of him. Dick’s hands drifted down to your hips as he slotted his lips against yours and pushed you back to lay against the bed. A gasp escaped you and he swallowed it with his tongue that pushed into your mouth. Everything was happening so quickly that it made your head spin in the best way possible. You shuddered as he unbuttoned your pants and slipped his long fingers under the band of your underwear.

“Oh,” you moaned as he brushed the rough pad of his finger along your slit. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat before nipping at the soft skin of your jaw. Your legs closed instinctively as the toxin mixed with instinctive lust surged through your veins. Dick tutted and tugged at the hem of your shirt. You let him remove it and then he made quick work of your pants and underwear.

And then he stood up, unzipped his suit, and revealed the body you had dreamed about for nights.

Dick wasted no time in scooping you up and settling you between his legs, your back against his chest. One of his hands tugged your knee, pulling your legs apart, as the other drifted down to your soaked pussy.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he purred as you sagged against his chest. Dick nuzzled his nose against your temple as his fingers rubbed in lazy circles over your swollen cunt. Anytime your hips shifted, he made sure to keep you steadily locked in his hold.

“That feel good, baby?” he breathed. You nodded, too blissed out to speak, and he grinned that cocky smile you missed so much. Dick tipped your chin back and pulled you in for a filthy kiss, his tongue searching your mouth and leaving the lingering taste of his peppermint gum on your lips.

Your orgasm rocked through you faster than you expected thanks to the pollen flooding your veins. Legs trembling, you shook and thrashed against Dick as your cunt clenched around empty air. Dick held you tightly against him and continued his ministrations until you were whining about how it was-

“Too much. Ah! Dick, too much.”

“You’re still burning up, baby,” he murmured.

“I need your cock. I need you to fuck me again. I missed the feel of you in me, Dick.”

His tongue trailed along the sweaty line of your neck and your back arched off of his chest as he left along a cool trail. His slick soaked fingers drifted up to rub and pinch your nipples, alternating between both with equal devotion.

“Did you fuck anyone else?” he panted. “Tell me, baby. Did another man make you feel as good as I do?”

“No!” You needed him to fill you. You would combust if his long cock didn’t enter you in the next five seconds. You struggled against his grip in an attempt to flip yourself over and ride him, but Dick was too strong.

“No,” you gasped. “I touched myself and thought of you. No other man could satisfy me.”

As though you were a delicate package, he cradled your head as he slid you down onto the mattress and slotted himself between your spread thighs.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, princess.”

Any retort left you as your mouth dropped open. Three months without him had made you forget how fully he consumed you. Your folds parted as he split you open with his shaft, whimpers and pants escaping him as he slowly and surely slid into your waiting body. He hefted your legs up and you wrapped them around his waist as he finally bottomed out.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

You, your traitorous mind echoed. Not this. You.

No. This was just his way of helping you.

A throaty groan tore past your lips as he pulled out, the veins of his cock dragging against your walls, and then pushed back in. Your eyes rolled back as he brushed against your g-spot. He was more than just his name, not by much. Dick Grayson laid pipe like he was a union plumber going on forty-five years.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Grayson.”

He yanked his hips back and drilled into your cunt. You clawed at his back as he started to jackhammer into you. The fever was slowly abating as your second orgasm built. You lifted your hands to play with your own tits but he batted them away. Dick ducked his head down and enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking at the soft skin there. The constant stimulation adding to the electricity surging through your veins and you threw your head back. Dick let go of your breast with a soft pop and he stroked your cheek, dragging your attention back to him.

“Look at that, princess. Look at how well you take me,” he said. You nodded dumbly at his words and he forced your head up. Your gaze fixed on the way his cock slid in and out of you and, coupled with the feeling of him inside of you, had your second orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

“That’s it. There’s my good girl. You were made to take me. I missed fucking this pretty pussy. I. missed. you.” He punctuated the last three words with deep thrusts before he pulled out and let his cum streak along your tits. Dick’s chest heaved with exertion but he reached up and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and then to your cheeks.

“How…how is it?” you asked.

He scooted back a bit and leaned forward so he was bracketing your hips. “You like doggy style, right?”

A pounding headache and a dry mouth was your morning gift. The warmth of the sun touched your cheeks gently and you relaxed when you realized you were no longer sweating buckets and burning up.

But a heavy, warm presence was still in your bed.

You slowly turned over to face Dick who was already awake. He reached up and checked your temperature again before offering you a wry smile. “Fever broke. You passed out around orgasm number six. I got you some water and snacks and you’ll need to take a shower. I can start the laundry once you’re in the shower. I’ll wait to leave until you’re feeling alright. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart ached at the tenderness of his words. This was the man who practically launched himself off the couch to get you a bandaid after you gave yourself a papercut while reading a book. This was the man who kept your favorite coffee and tea stocked at his place. This was the man who walked out on you and told you that he didn’t love you anymore.

“Dick…” Your soft voice stopped him from climbing out of the bed. He settled in next to you, the thin sheet pooling at his waist and revealing his well-muscled torso.

“I left because they put a hit on your head,” he said. Warm breath washed over your face and you shivered at the contact. His azure eyes searched your face before he continued.

“I couldn’t risk losing you. Permanently. I’ve buried too many people, baby, and I refuse to lose you until you’re old and gray.”

“No one knows I’m connected to Nightwing,” you whispered.

“No, but they know you were connected to Dick Grayson. There are a lot of people that aren’t happy about what I’ve been doing to help Bludhaven. I’ve made enemies and they knew exactly where to target.”

“But Nightwing stopped them, right?”

His full lips lifted at the corners, amused at your unfailing trust in him, and he nodded. “Destroyed their entire operation.”

“So there was no threat.”

His eyes softened and he reached up to touch your cheek. “Being with me puts you at risk. Always.”

“I never felt as safe as I did with you. Last night, you helped me because you would never let anything hurt me. Right? You’ll never let anyone hurt me.”

He moved in close and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips drifted down to lay a kiss to each eyelid, cheek, your nose, chin, and finally landing on your lips. This wasn’t the rushed, burning kisses from the night before.

This was soft and gentle and, underneath the veneer of sweetness, it was an apology.

“I’ll go get the shower started so it’s warm,” he murmured once he pulled away. “And I’ll cook breakfast while you’re getting clean.”

“And we’ll talk?”

He smiled. Not the fake media smile he perfected years ago. Not the confident, cocky grin he gave his teammates. It was the smile only you saw. The soft, tender curve of his lips as his vulnerability shone through.

“Yeah.” His fingers interlaced with yours. “We’ll talk.”

Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @bunny-kawa @khaylin27

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing smut #nightwing #dick grayson smut

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improbable-outset · 11 months ago

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📄 𝐈’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

↳📄 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟎𝟎𝟒 𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Angst, Pre-break up argument flashbacks, both you and Miguel being pretty hostile to each other lol, pregnancy scare, established relationship with your new man that Miguel hates :(

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been over a year since you split up, but unfortunately for Miguel, things are still taking a toll. Even after going your separate ways, you still have to see each other everyday and it was affecting his performance. Meanwhile, your dual life as a loyal lover and as Spider-Woman is putting a lingering strain on your new relationship. The ripple effect of your breakup is coming back to bite you in the ass in the most unexpected way possible.

1 year ago…

It felt like you had been going back and forth for hours but it had only been less than 30 minutes. It might be because you have been holding this grudge for so long and you were finally voicing it out to him.

Though, your argument has been going around in circles with no conclusion or resolution to be found. The room echoed with your voices along with the subtle hum of the monitors around you.

“None of this matters. It never did, it doesn’t matter what we feel and what he want,” Miguel said, back was facing you as he spoke, not fully engaged in the conversation or paying full attention to you right now. This argument seemed to serve no importance to him.

“Are you saying that our relationship means nothing to you,” you quipped.

He sighed, seemingly exhausted from hearing the same thing over and over again. “What I’m saying is…it’s a distraction that I can’t afford to have,” he glanced over at you before his gaze fell back on the monitors— reluctant to maintain eye contact with you. “You are a liability,”

“Liability?!” Your voice almost came out as a screech.

“Yes, a liability. I can’t get comfortable when the responsibility of the multiverse is on my shoulders, I can’t let my guard down…and our relationship is only getting in the way,”

“We’re supposed to make each other be the best version of ourselves, with or without the multiverse. Not be cooped up in one room all day,”

“Right, I keep forgetting that you’re incapable of understanding the magnitude of the situation. This requires undivided attention and I need to keep my head in the game. Not…this. Us,” He snapped back. The last word came out as a snarl, like it was venomous.

Us.

At one point in your relationship, hearing that word made you feel like you had a special connection you both shared.

Us.

Now the word lost its meaning and it felt heavy, like being with you felt like a chore.

“Why did you agree to this relationship if this is all you’re gonna do,”

“That was a mistake, a lapse of judgment in my part for believing this would be a good idea,”

It was hard to believe that this was the same man that opened up to you about his insecurities and leaned on you for emotional support.

He always made you feel reliable, but now given the situation you were in, it was all fickle. All those special moments were thrown back in your face.

Was it all just a rose-tinted illusion just to make you believe that he did value you and your relationship?

“You can’t just leave HQ just for one night?” You left the question hanging even if you already knew the answer. His lack of response was enough to speak volume anyways.

Your line of sight landed on one of the footage of him and Gabriella after her soccer practice. You watched as it displayed Miguel picking up Gabriella, a huge grin flashed on his face, before giving her a hug.

It was hard to believe Miguel even harbored that paternal instinct in him when all you’ve witnessed was his stoic attitude. Even if he did display his vulnerability, it was rare and those moments felt like catching smoke with your bare hands.

After a long moment of silence, you finally remarked, “I don’t think watching Gabriella’s file is healthy,”

There was a micro shift in his demeanor that was so subtle, but you still managed to pick it up. His muscles tenses like he had just been pricked by a thorn.

“Don’t even think about bringing her up,” his voice came out cold and sinister, a warning to prevent you from going deeper. “You don’t know the whole story”

“I know enough,” That was enough for him to finally turn around to look at you, unleashing his inferno of fury in full glory.

“No, you don’t! You don’t know anything about her. You’ve read her reports. You’ve seen the surveillance videos. But that isn’t the whole story,”

“Maybe not but I know it’s the main reason why you’re so driven by guilt, you can barely see what’s in front of you,”

“Oh I see everything that’s in front of me. Everything that matters," he scoffed before continuing on,"I’m doing what I have to do, and here you have the gall to get upset over me not paying attention to you?”

At that moment, your mind reeled back to the night you were experiencing a panic attack because you had a pregnancy scare. You still vividly remembered the taste of bile climbing into your throat from the fear.

It didn’t help that you were alone in that situation. You were in the HQ bathroom because you thought it would be easier for Miguel to be there for you if you were in his dimension, but you were only met with disappointment when he was on another mission.

You remembered gripping onto the pregnancy test tightly, you felt the sweat from your palms while struggling to breathe. For a long while, you were reluctant to take the test, too anxious to see the results.

Thankfully, the test came out negative. The relief that followed was like cool water over your heated body. You didn’t want to imagine how things would’ve unfolded if it was positive— more importantly, you didn’t want to see Miguel’s reaction if you were pregnant with his child.

“I’m not talking about me anymore, I’m talking about a bigger picture,”

By bigger picture, you were talking about the far future and what potential it could hold. Despite being aware of the importance of keeping the Multiverse in balance, you still wanted Miguel to have a fulfilling life— one that wasn’t so heavily influenced by the Spider Society.

But that was practically impossible if he kept himself in his office. It was counterproductive when it came to healing from his grief and guilt by replaying Gabriella’s footage over and over again.

Surely this was going to take a toll soon and you didn’t want to witness him tearing himself apart and let his guilt dictate his life.

“There is no bigger picture than this. This is the picture,” He gestured at the monitors behind him. “This is where my attention should be, everything else is secondary.”

“I’m starting to feel like you’re having tunnel vision,”

“Tunnel vision?!” His voice escalated in pitch and came out harsh, like blade cutting through the mounted tension in the room. “I’m the one who sees more than you ever will!”

His words, even if they were hurtful to hear, were starting to have some weight on them and it made your arguments pale in comparison.

Everything you said seemed to be thrown right back at you in the most ruthless way and you were starting to feel like this was getting pointless.

There’s nothing you could say that could change his mind and you were beginning to accept that.

“You know what, you’re right. It’s not like you’ll ever share with me what you see,” It was time to throw in the towel, this was not going anywhere now.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s not important. But like you said, I’m a liability and in your way so I’ll see myself out,” Your turned your heels and hopped off the platform before you made your way to the exit. “This relationship was a waste of time and effort,”

It was past noon when you heard a soft knock on your door. With a frown, you swung open your door to see that it was Albie in his usual work attire.

“Hey…uhm shouldn’t you be at work?” You asked, surprise evident in your tone.

“I’m on my lunch break,” he replied, holding up a plastic bag and mirroring your smile.

“But you always have lunch in your office,” Even if you were happy to see him during work hours, this change in his routine wasn’t like him. But what added to your confusion was the newfound sparkle in his eyes as he spoke.

“I know but I wanted to see you. Plus, I went to the bodega and picked up your favourites,” It was an odd change seeing him come over to your place to eat. You knew he preferred having his lunch at work so he could maintain the professional atmosphere without any distractions.

Nevertheless, you stepped aside to let him in. You both padded to the living room and he placed the bag on the coffee table. Albie always took pride in his looks, keeping his hair well-groomed that went hand in hand with his sharp attire. The early afternoon sunlight casted over the room through the balcony doors, giving a warm glow.

You couldn’t help but pick up the slight energy in his step as he walked and the grin that was plastered on his face, despite the long hours he spent at work. You watched him take out your sandwich and handed it to you.

The familiar aroma of fresh bread and deli meat immediately overwhelmed you and reminded you how hungry you were. You took the first bite and was immediately filled with the cocktail of flavours and spices from the meat.

“You seem excited,” you pointed out before you took another bite from the sandwich. You haven’t seen him look this ecstatic since the night you confessed that you loved him back.

He rubbed his neck, trying to conceal his enthusiasm. “Heh, am I that obvious?”

You nodded. “Like reading a book. Is there something you want to share?”

He put his hands up in mocking surrender before he said “Okay, okay you got me. Yes, I do have some pretty exciting news. That’s why I came to see you,”

You arched your brow mid-chewing and listening attentively to what he had to say. His lips twitched up, enjoying the suspense of the moment.

“Do you remember how I’ve been working on that project with the major corporation for the past few months?” He asked.

You nodded, still remembering the long hours and the late night calls he got. Albie worked as a cyber security consultant for a reputable firm. He specialised in helping organisations protect their systems and data from cyber threats.

Albie was good at what he did and you can tell he took pride in his work. He would always share news about his career and keep you in the loop as much as possible.

His wide grin from earlier returned as he continued. “Well it’s still in the working progress and so far things are looking pretty promising. But once this project is completed, there’s been talk about a potential promotion. A senior consultant role,”

Your brows raise in pleasant surprise as you were taking in everything he was saying.

“That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, you found yourself leaning forward, eager to hear more.

“Thank you, babe. I’m not there yet but I’m hopeful. There are a lot of perks to this promotion like the salary increase which will give us a stability for a better future, but there’s something else too,”

“What’s that?”

“Well one of the benefit packages comes with a Health and Wellness program which include gym memberships. If I get this promotion, I thought we could maybe start hitting the gyms together after work and make it our thing,”

The moisture in your mouth instantly dried as you tried to swallow another mouthful of your sandwich. Ever since you’ve joined the Spider Society, you’ve only been using the gym back in HQ rather than in your dimension.

You still remember the day Miguel gave you a tour of the gym and how he managed to convince you to use it regularly instead of the gyms back at home because they were not catered for spider people like you.

You knew he just said that just so you would work out with him. But now, you would go there alone and you would much prefer it that way. It felt more comfortable being surrounded by people like you.

But you couldn’t tell Albie that. He wasn’t aware about your secret identity as Spidera-Woman and it should be kept that way. You managed to mask your internal conflict with an encouraging smile.

“Yeah definitely, I just need to check my schedule to see if I can make time fit.” You said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as you could and match his high spirit. You didn’t want to ruin his happiness by being doubtful, this was a huge opportunity for him.

“Great. We can even try out some of the gym fitness classes they offer too. At least then we can spend more time together.” He went on, rambling. It made your stomach flutter knowing that he really wanted to share the benefits with you. “This will be amazing,”

“Yeah…let’s not get too ahead of ourselves though. You still haven’t got the promotion yet,” you tried to reason with him before he made any unattainable plans.

Albie had the tendency to be overly hopeful about things and as much as you appreciated his enthusiasm and his support, he can go overboard without realising it.

“You’re right, speaking of which I’m gonna have to leave for 1. How’s the sandwich?”

You swallowed the mouthful before you answered, “Perfect,”

Later in the evening, you were alone again in your living room. The only source of light came from the screen in front of you, casting a soft glow that illuminated the room.

The only noise that could be heard was the TV in the background. Otherwise, the apartment was quiet enough to hear the low bliss of the traffic outside. Even if you didn’t have company for the night, it was still peaceful.

Amidst the serenity, you couldn’t help but subconsciously reminisce about the stark difference between your evenings with Albie compared to those spent with Miguel.

When he was not working a late shift, nights with Albie would be filled with tranquility and quality moments together. You would often find yourself curled up on the couch while nestled onto his chest.

A stark contrast to the time spent with Miguel, where moments together were rare occurrences. His duties as Spider-man and leader of the Spider Society left little room for personal connections. The fact that he was not from your home dimension added another layer of complexity to your relationship. You’d be lucky if he even left his own dimension just to be with you.

But, you didn’t want to mull over it and open the door to any unnecessary longing of ‘what could’ve been’ and ‘what if’s’ tonight. You had Albie now and every moment left like a treasure trove of warmth and comfort.

Your dinner that you made fresh was sitting on the coffee table in front of you, waiting to be eaten. Just as you were about to pick up your plate to start on your food, you heard a sharp whisper in your ear that sent a chill down your spine.

“Hey,”

You flinched.

That was not something you wanted to hear when you were home alone. You quickly cupped your ear instinctively before you saw a marigold hologram glitch in front of you that was followed by Lyla’s figure.

“Hey girl,” she greeted, fluttering her fingers in a wave.

“Lyla—! Jeez don’t scare me like that,” You exclaimed before signing in both relief and annoyance.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your night with a grand entrance,” You didn’t want to admit that she already did just that. She glitched around you, disappearing and reappearing in different directions around you as she spoke. “By the way, Miguel needs you back in HQ,”

“Right now? Can’t he get someone else? I’m supposed to be on my day off,” you protested.

“Actually your days off are on Mondays and Thursdays,” she reminded you. You quickly glanced at your calendar and saw that she was right. You sighed again. So much for enjoying the evening to yourself.

“Alright…tell him I’ll be there in 10,”

“Copy that,” she saluted before she glitched away, leaving alone with the food in front of you.

You watch the steam waltz into the air from your hot meal, almost teasing you. It wouldn’t taste the same when you reheat it in the microwave. Yet, a part of you was glad that you didn’t start eating yet. Dimension traveling on a full stomach always ended in motion sickness.

You took the plate and made your way to the kitchen and covered it with a foil sheet. You then headed to your room to change into your suit and tapped on your watch, activating a colourful whirlwind portal for you to step into.

Hold onto Albie for me 🥹🤞🏼 he’s a stable man (for now)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @femaholicc @keepitreal001 @risararelywrites @jadeloverxd @cl3stevu

@scaleniusrm @smartyren @homewreckingwreck @indecisive-capricorn @toyfortoji

Lmk if you wanna be tagged for this series (i didn’t know who to tag here so I tagged whoever commented on part 1)

Part 3…data loading ⏳

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nico-esoterica · 6 months ago

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Be as emotional, spiral-y, fearful, and doubtful as you want. They don't manifest or sabotage your manifestations if you don't believe them and stick to your story! They're just emotions! Feelings! They're just chemical reactions! Throw the manifestation community rules OUT!

You don't need perfect mental health to manifest. You don't need to be confident or believe anything will happen. You just need to pick a story that you say is happening/will happen/has happened and stick to it. Tenses don't matter. Nothing does.

Thinking in your favor about yourself and your manifestations as a topic (money, relationships, success, health, beauty, etc) helps you feel better about being in control and only benefits you. But being a shining beacon of perfect mental health and fearlessness aren't necessary. Tbh, I interpret fearlessness as not giving a flying fuck if you're afraid and sticking to your guns anyway.

That's why so many people have still manifested in the midst of depressions, giving up hope, and flat out leaving the law of assumption all together conceptually. As long as you haven't changed your mind and said it's not coming, can't happen, etc, and maintained that and weren't just having a moment that you corrected, you still getting your shit, baby.

Baaabyyyyyyyyy, you have your fine ass sp, your dream body, and your billions. You're in Forbes, Vogue, and Jeff Bezos is sick of you bc you've outshined him.

YOU'VE GOT IT! *pygmy hippo screech*

#loa #manifestation #law of assumption #tips

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heylittleriotact · 5 months ago

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🕯️ THE RITUAL HAS BEEN COMPLETED AND I AM SUMMONED BY @emmg 🕯️

WIP ✨WHATEVER✨

I have a lot of Emmrook things in mind that I want to write (I made a list!), but I only have one brain and one dominant hand for writing, so I’m just dawdling away at my leisure.

Currently I’m working on my take on a scene that would take place directly following the end of the game because BioWare hates us and decided we don’t need any closure for our Rooks or their love interest aside from some vague ‘live, laugh, love’ bullshit epilogue slide.

Rook works their fucking ass off the entire game and is basically the emotional sponge for everyone else’s issues, pushing themselves beyond what’s healthy to see their goals through. Emmrich remarks on it on at least two separate occasions, so I think my Rook would probably find herself in a position within hours of everything concluding where her body and her mind just stand on the brakes and say, “Nope! We’re done! We cannot and will not do any more things until you take some time to recuperate!”

And who’s going to make sure that happens in the most romantic, wholesome, and slightly stern but sexy way?

Emmrich, of course 🤍

Also, I’m reverse uno-ing @emmg because I want to know what you’re cooking. LET ME INNNNNN.

I’m also tagging @allofthebarks because she said she has things she wants to write but the writing just isn’t coming, so comfort yourself in my clumsy, unedited WIP and just write A Thing. Dooooo it!!!

Veilguard End Game Spoilers Under The Cut

Cheering and accolades followed them through the ruined streets of Minrathous, and Amina took the time to ensure that no waiting hand was left unshaken, no hug went unreturned, and no condolence went unoffered. It took them nearly two hours to make their way to a damaged but still structurally sound estate secured for them by the Shadow Dragons but as far as she was concerned, it was time well spent.

As the ornate doors of the manor closed behind them and the cacophony of their victory was muffled, Amina took two steps into the manor, bent at the waist, and splattered the floor with the contents of her stomach.

Emmrich was on her in an instant, holding her long black hair aside with one hand and stroking comforting circles on her back with another.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?” Taash demanded, taking a step forward. Her voice was distant - drowned out by the screeching whine in Amina’s ears.

She felt her legs wobble and give way, her armoured knees colliding roughly with the ground as she threw out a hand to steady herself, not caring that it landed right in her sick: everything was too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too… real. It felt like she was being driven out of her own body like a wayward spirit, her essence clinging desperately to whatever it could hold onto to tether her here.

Just as distantly, Amina could hear Emmrich respond to Taash but his words were lost on her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm and lurched clumsily to her feet.

“Harding - I need to go to her mother—“ Her voice broke: she hadn’t had time. None of them had had time to tell her mother about Harding’s death before Elgar’nan forced their hand.

She clenched her teeth at the sensation of hot tears cutting through the accumulation of grime and gore and sweat on her face, snarling defiantly through the deluge of agony crashing through her… breaking her from the inside.

There’s still work to be done…

She was pulling away from Emmrich, her course uncharted but steadfast: she needed to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. It didn’t matter, as long as she was doing something… as long as she was helping. But no matter how she pulled and tugged, he wouldn’t let her go: lithe as Emmrich was, he wasn’t weak by any stretch.

With some effort he managed to put himself in front of her, gold rings clinking against silverite where he gripped her shoulders before pulling her tight against him.

“Breathe, darling.” He instructed, enshrouding her diminutive frame in his own. “I need you to breathe… can you do that for me?”

She managed an anguished sob in reply but nothing more: any attempt to draw breath was met with unforgiving resistance as her airways slammed shut in seeming rebellion of life itself.

Arrangements need to be made - things need to be taken care of, and I’m the only one left to take care of them.

No. First I need to breathe.

“I’ve got you: you’re safe with me.”

More tears rolled down her cheeks as her eyes clenched shut and she forced a thin, ragged inhalation into her lungs.

“Well done, darling.” Emmrich encouraged, ever calm, ever heartening. “Now let’s try for another one, shall we? I’ll do it with you. Let out your breath on the count of three: one… two… three…”

She felt Emmrich contract against her as he slowly exhaled with her. None of this was new to her: Nevarran breathing techniques were required learning for Watchers. Claustrophobia could present unpredictably, and if one found themselves turned around or overwhelmed in the Necropolis, being able to stay calm was vital to survival.

“Perfect. Now another breath in…” He waited while Amina drew another shaky breath then loosened his hold on her to gently cup her cheek. Within moments she could feel the familiar soothing tingle of Emmrich’s magic coursing intimately through her, seeping through her nervous system and providing some relief.

“Emmrich,” she rasped, clutching at his chest. “I… I need to—“

“Do absolutely nothing.” He interjected sternly, his voice absent of any playful familiarity or scholarly flair, though it softened almost reflexively as he continued. “You’ve overextended yourself, Amina. You’ve been overextended for some time, but you pushed through to see this to the end - and you have - but my love, you can’t evade the reality of what you’ve been through indefinitely… you need to rest and take time to come to terms with things.” He drew his thumb over her cheek, speaking to her like she was the only person in the room.

“But—“

“All that needs to be attended will be seen to: Lace’s mother will be informed of her sacrifice in an appropriate manner, and the… actions of the Inquisitor will be communicated to the south.” He hung on the word ‘actions’ seemingly unsure of its accuracy but ultimately too focused on Amina to care.

She opened her mouth to argue, but likely having anticipated this from her, Emmrich spoke first.

“You’ve done so much and helped so many without asking for anything in return… please let me be the one to help you in your moment of need?”

His eyes searched hers, soft and pleading, and she studied the face of the man she loved: each pleasing curve and angle that she had committed to memory etched on her heart. The crinkled lines at the corners of his eyes, and the creases around his familiar mouth spoke of years of smiles offered to comfort and soothe.

He was filthy too, and his hair was limp and disheveled, strands of it hanging into his face… but oh Maker how she loved him…

“I love you…” He whispered for her ears alone, his lips ghosting over hers. “And I so look forward to reminding you of that fact every day for the rest of our lives… so let me begin now: let me take care of you.”

#wip #wip whenever #dragon age #datv #da:tv #veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #da:tv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilgaurd spoilers #datv spoilers #emmrook #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrich romance #v writes

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worth-the-chaos · 1 year ago

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Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: With the events of last fall in the past, you attempt to move on, still working on your academics and babysitting Dustin. You and Steve have drifted since your encounter with the otherworldly, but he begins to make more active efforts to talk to you, making sure you have an invite to Tina’s big Halloween party.

Content Warning: swearing, stancy, reference to upside down stuff, billy being an ass, college application stress, drinking, anxiety and trauma

Word Count: 6.3k

Author’s Note: Again, I’m trying to follow a lot of the plot lines of the series for this x reader, so a lot of it is probably a bit familiar! This part follows the reader’s involvement through Halloween, when things begin to turn sour again.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Next Part

***

You took a deep breath as you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Half-dressed for the day, your eyes couldn’t help but focus on the scars that littered your upper arm, remembering when they used to be deep gashes.

It had been about a year since you stood in the Byers’ house fighting for your life against the horrifying entity from what the kids elected to call the Upside Down. Though your physical wounds had healed, the emotional ones still lingered. Every once in a while, fear invaded your consciousness as you thought back to the flashing lights and the low growl resonating through the small family room. Sometimes when you closed your eyes, you could still see the rows and rows of razor sharp teeth, inching closer and closer to your face.

It was paralyzing, but you shoved those thoughts and feelings aside as you threw a long sleeve shirt on, covering the physical evidence of your fight against the supernatural. Stop thinking about that, you reminded yourself, it’s all over now.

The walk to Hawkins High wasn’t terribly long, though you did still wish you were fortunate enough to afford a vehicle of your own. Once you finally reached the parking lot, a car honk drew you from your thoughts and you were met with the familiar face of the one and only Steve Harrington as he smiled and waved from the driver’s seat. Sat next to him was Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s talk with her in the hospital evidently had been successful because they’d been back together since then, coming up on their first anniversary. You found it difficult to be happy for the couple, but you pushed the jealousy down in your chest and did a small wave back, a half smile on your face. Nancy didn’t respond with the same enthusiasm as Steve, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

The window suddenly rolled down and Steve called out, “Hey y/n! I’ll see you in study hall! I have a question for you!”

“Okay…? See you then, I guess,” you responded, a bit surprised. Since last year, Steve had rethought his life choices. He wasn’t the same douchebag he’d been when he broke Jonathan’s camera and called Nancy a slut. He dropped Tommy H and Carol, started focusing a bit more on school, and was generally a lot nicer than he used to be. However, despite the way you both risked your lives together, blindsided by the paranormal darkness lurking in Hawkins, you both kind of fell out of touch.

He had Nancy and you had…well, you had your studies. And your babysitting gig. One year strong babysitting the Henderson kid, and only one apocalyptic encounter. Needless to say, you were doing pretty damn good.

Suddenly, the sound of tires screeching on the pavement drew the focus of the three of you away from the semi-awkward encounter, watching as a car with California plates peeled into the parking lot. A boy you didn’t recognize stepped out of the car, flicking his cigarette behind him. A young girl emerged from the passenger seat, turning and making her way down the hill in the direction of Hawkins Middle.

You scoffed, being the impeccable babysitter that you were. Was this guy really too lazy to drop his kid sister off at her school that was less than a block away?

He swung his car door shut and paused, looking you up and down before sending a wink and smirk your direction and turning to make his way into the high school. Your hands gripped your backpack straps a little tighter, feeling like an object to be used or consumed under his gaze. You didn’t have a good feeling about this boy, and something told you that Hawkins High had found its replacement for the King Steve that disappeared when Harrington wisened up last year.

“Who is that guy?” You suddenly heard Steve’s voice ask, annoyance painted on his face. He wasn’t too thrilled with the way he had looked at you. Steve knew the type of guy he was; the type that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and in that moment despite the countless girls drooling over his dumbass mullet, he had zeroed in on you.

“Must be new,” you responded, forcing a smile in an attempt to demonstrate that the mystery boy’s actions hadn’t fazed you. You fought an otherworldly entity; surely you could handle some asshole jock. In a way, you already had, and look how that turned out.

“The two of you should steer clear of him. He’s bad news,” Steve warned. Nancy and you didn’t argue, nodding before you took off to enter the building so you wouldn’t be late for first period.

By the time you were on your way to third period study hall, you had already spent the morning contemplating what Steve could possibly have to ask you. It was your junior year, his senior, and while you were taking it for the extra study time, he was taking it to avoid coursework from one more class, largely using it as a time to take a school sanctioned nap. As such, normally you didn’t interact much during the one hour break from boring lectures and busy work.

“Hey,” Steve whispered as he slid into the chair next to you, a stark juxtaposition to the way he slammed his textbooks on the desk, causing you to jump.

“What? Not taking your spot in the back corner so you can sleep without Mrs. Reed giving you shit?” You asked, staring up at him innocently.

“Actually, I was thinking I could get us out of here for the hour.”

“And how do you suppose that’s going to happen?”

“I’ll put on the old Harrington charm…just watch,” he smirked as he stood up, grabbing you by the elbow to drag you to the teacher’s desk. Mrs. Reed was not the type of person to mess with. She wore her hair up in a slicked back bun that meant business, wearing a scowl like it was an accessory. You seriously doubted the “Harrington charm” was going to do shit to get you out of that classroom.

She glared at the boy through her thin wire glasses, clearly not in the mood for his shenanigans. “Is there a problem?” She droned out, her expression fixing further into annoyance, if that was even possible.

“Actually, Mrs. Reed, I’m afraid there is,” he started, “you see, y/n here was just telling me about how she has this big presentation in her fourth hour class, and she was really hoping for an opportunity to practice. Is there any possible way you’d be so gracious as to let us utilize one of the study rooms in the library? I mean, we can’t go letting Hawkins’ star pupil do anything less than ace this thing, am I right?”

He shook you by your shoulders a bit at the end, and even though the compliment was nothing more than a lie, you still flushed under the praise. It wasn’t everyday that you got complimented in front of your entire study hall class by the most popular student in the school.

“Is that so, y/n?” She turned to you.

“You know me and my nerves, Mrs. Reed; I could really use the help. And besides, Steve is probably about the most rowdy audience I could possibly have, so presenting after this will be a piece of cake,” you pasted a smile on your face. You felt bad lying to her; she’d been a pretty decent English teacher your sophomore year.

“Fine. Don’t worry about coming back before the end of the hour. I know I can trust you to keep Harrington in line,” she answered, glaring at Steve before turning back to the work on her desk, done with the bullshit of high school students; the good ones and the bad ones alike.

You both quickly thanked her before Steve grabbed both of your backpacks and you headed out the door.

“Okay, if I’m going to be completely honest, I was about 85% sure that wasn’t going to work. Mrs. Reed fucking hates me…like a lot,” Steve breathed out as he tossed you your bag, his cocky facade finally dissipating as he continued down the hall.

“This better be a good fucking question, Steve,” you grumbled, not happy about the lie he forced you into, “what am I supposed to do if she asks me about my presentation? What am I supposed to do if she talks to Mr. Hayes?”

“Woah, woah, woah, cool your jets,” he rolled his eyes, “Mrs. Reed is probably a year or two away from retirement and barely even cares about the shit she’s teaching, so I think you’re going to be fine.”

You entered the library, quickly moving to one of the study rooms. You tossed your bag on the floor, already tired from the day and not fully emotionally prepared to spend an hour one on one with Steve.

“Alright, what’s the deal?” You asked as you sat in one of the chairs, crossing your arms as your face fixed into a glare.

“Well, first of all, here,” he shoved an obnoxiously orange flyer at you. You grabbed it a bit aggressively, still not super happy with the boy in front of you. He had a dorky-ass grin on his face though, and it almost broke the cold exterior you were trying to keep up….almost.

“‘Tina’s Halloween Bash, come and get sheet faced,’ are you kidding me? This is what we’re skipping study hall for? Dude, I have an AP chem test this week that I really needed to study for,” you whined, shoving the flyer back at him.

“No, of course this isn’t the reason we’re skipping. I may be dumb, but I’m not an idiot,” he said as he shoved the flyer back at you, “It’s just…I know you never go out, a-and—and it’s Halloween! You can’t stay in on Halloween! Plus, Nancy and I are going to be there, so it’ll be fun, I swear it.”

He leaned across the table, the elbow of his right arm settling right in the middle as he reached his hand towards you. Your focus shifted to his extended pinky. You looked at him incredulously as he waggled it a few times, looking at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes. This boy was going to be the death of you, but you wrapped your small pinky around his anyway.

“I’ll consider it. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“You know what, I’ll take it. Which brings me to my next topic, and pretty much the entire reason for this in the first place, which is that Nancy thinks my application essay sucks and I really need some fucking help,” Steve leaned back while he ran his hands down his face.

You felt a pang in your heart because you knew how stressful this all probably was for the boy. You’d been smart and planned accordingly, so getting into colleges wasn’t the part that was stressing you out; it was the finances that did. Steve on the other hand had screwed around for two and a half years and now somehow needed to manage turning things around enough so that he had even a fighting chance.

“Just give it to me,” you sighed and he quickly handed over the essay he had written.

Steve watched your eyes scan the page as you read the words that he had spent the last week writing. He was a bit embarrassed, to say the least; he had taken one English class with you last semester and knew that he didn’t even write half as well as you did. Hell, Nancy didn’t even come close and her writing was really, really good.

“You…you compared winning a basketball game to your grandfather fighting in the war?” You asked incredulously.

“…yeah?”

“Steve.”

“I know, I know! It’s bad, but that’s why I need your help! I was gonna have Nancy help me but we have this thing tonight and I can’t miss it and—“

You cut him off. “Steve, stop talking. I can help you…but I think you’re going to have to rewrite this whole thing.”

Steve hung his head and buried his face in his hands. Of course I’m gonna have to rewrite the damn thing because it can never just be fucking easy. He felt your hands pull on his wrist and he looked up, finding you staring at him sweetly. A bit pitying, but it was still sweet. With that, some of his anger subsided and he took a deep breath.

“You just need to find something more meaningful to you. I mean, I can tell your heart really isn’t in this. Besides, sometimes the best essays are about the things you’ve lost, not the things you’ve won.”

Steve thought about this. He lived a pretty privileged life. He didn’t want for anything, his future was pretty much set so long as he took the job at his dad’s company, he had the girl, the car, the hair, etc. Sure, his parents kind of really, really sucked but that was small potatoes compared to all of the things he had easy. It was hard to think of something he really, truly lost.

He almost had lost you.

His thoughts flashed to the demogorgon, the way his heart stopped and instinct took over as he had swung the bat with all his might to get the damn thing away from you. He pushed the thought away and suddenly he wasn’t interested in working on this essay anymore.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m gonna need some time to brainstorm some things to write about, but in the meantime, how about we focus on that AP chem test, huh? I mean, there’s no way you don’t have color-coded flash cards and all that jazz”

“Steve, you really don’t have to. I’m sure you have a lot better things to do than to help me cram for some dumb test.”

“Hey, first of all, if it’s important to you, it’s not dumb. Secondly, I might be a shit learner, but I’m a pretty damn good quizzer, so hand ‘em over,” he motioned for you to hand him your index cards as you sheepishly pulled them out of your backpack in their color-coded glory.

“How could I have possibly known?” He feigned surprise.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

***

When all was said and done, you felt moderately better about your AP chem test. Steve wasn’t lying when he said he was a good quizzer; by now, you had every word on every one of those damn cards memorized. During your walk to the Henderson household, you pulled the bright orange flyer out of your pocket. You couldn’t help but smile thinking back to Steve inviting you. He wanted you to be there.

“Y/n!” Dustin drew you out of your thoughts as you quickly shoved the flyer back into your back pocket. The middle school and the high school let out at the same time. He wasn’t far behind you, sat atop his bike as he hopped off and walked with it next to him so he could talk to you.

“You can ride your bike home. I seriously doubt you can get into any serious sort of trouble in the five minutes it takes me to catch up,” you reminded him, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true; in fact, the boy was such a problem sometimes that you considered upping your rate to charge his mom for hazard pay.

“First off, I think you underestimate how much faster I can get home on my bike than you can on foot. Secondly, what was that you just put in your pocket?”

“It-It’s nothing,” you said maybe a little too quickly as your face heated up.

“Bullshit. Spill.”

You sighed. “It’s just some stupid flyer for a big Halloween party. Nothing that concerns you, unless you somehow age several years in the next few days and are suddenly eligible to attend,” you joked, sarcasm lacing your tone as you tried to gather your bearings and act more casual. He didn’t need to know that, to you, it was more than just some Halloween party; it was a Halloween party that Steve Harrington had invited you to.

“You don’t go to parties though,” Dustin was quick to remind you. He was right. Sure, early on in high school you’d been invited to a few, but after you continued to decline, people stopped reaching out.

“Well…there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” you muttered.

“Are you gonna dress up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who invited you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Was it a guy?”

“No!”

“So it was a guy!” Dustin exclaimed. You rolled your eyes and jogged ahead, trying to put some distance between you and the incessant questioning of the boy you had the great misfortune of babysitting.

“Your silence is incriminating!” He shouted after you, unable to run very gracefully while attempting to guide a bike around.

You shook your head and sighed. Could babysitting Henderson ever be easy?

***

You walked towards Tina’s house feeling more than just stupid. You didn’t even know Tina super well outside of her always bumming notes off of you when she missed fifth period French. After your conversation with Dustin, you began considering the many elements of a Halloween party that had slipped your mind when you pinky promised Steve you’d go. You hadn’t thought about a costume because, frankly, you hadn’t initially been planning on doing anything for Halloween; it was just going to be another Wednesday for you.

As such, you had decided not to dress up, instead opting to pick apart your closet to find clothes that would maybe scream “party,” settling on your favorite pair of jeans, a low cut black tank top, and a denim jacket. So, yeah, you weren’t in costume, but at least your tits had kind of showed up to the party, so you decided that was good enough.

The mess of bodies dancing at different levels of sobriety made it difficult to navigate the front lawn and you hoped with all your might that Steve and Nancy were already there. You got closer to the front door when you heard the headache inducing sounds of high school testosterone as a bunch of the douchebags from Hawkins High hyped up Mr. California for doing an absurdly long keg stand.

Gee. Great.

As you reached to grasp the doorknob to let yourself into the party, a hand from behind you slammed the door back shut just as soon as you had opened it. You were met eye to eye with the mullet headed, leather jacket wearing douchebag himself. Something was off about this boy (besides the fact that he was unbelievably hammered), and you thought back to Steve’s warning to stay away.

“Hey,” he slurred as he looked you up and down, his eyes pausing longer than they should’ve when they reached your chest. You felt small under his hungry gaze, but you refused to allow yourself to visibly shrink so you straightened your posture and forced your chin up as you looked him in the eye.

“Excuse you,” you muttered as you tried to pull on the door handle again. Obviously it didn’t budge, and he laughed at your attempt. You scowled as you met his eyes again. “What’s your deal, man?”

“The name’s Billy. Billy Hargrove,” he shot you a smirk that screamed trouble as he extended his hand towards you, offering up a handshake.

What a total ass. Fortunately though, he was cocky enough to think that striking up a conversation would cause you to stay, removing his hand from the door, so you took the opportunity to maneuver past him, opening the door and slipping inside.

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit,” you added before slamming the door in his face. You saw the look of shock flash across his features before he disappeared from view and you couldn’t help but feel good about it. The feeling quickly dissipated though as you attempted to weave around the living room, nearly tripping as you made your way into the kitchen where you met Nancy.

“What’s in this?” She was asking a guy in a toga. You recognized him from your second period class, but you didn’t know his name.

“Pure fuel! Pure fuel! Whoo!” He shouted back at her, and you realized you were perfectly fine not getting to know him.

“Well, with that ringing endorsement, we’d be dumb not to have a little, right?” You chuckled and Nancy spun around at the sound of your voice.

“Y/n, you made it,” she said, smile not really touching her eyes, “Steve wasn’t sure you were going to show.” Both of you dipped red solo cups into the questionable mixture, filling them up with the red mix of booze and punch.

“Yep, here I am. In the flesh,” you laughed again, trying to dispel the awkward energy. Something about her seemed off; normally she would be much more friendly. You hoped that you hadn’t done anything to upset her. “Nancy, is everything okay?” You asked quietly as you gently grabbed her wrist.

“I’m fine,” she replied as her jaw set and her tone told you not to push the question. You let go of her wrist and nodded, letting her know that you were going to let it go for now. Her body relaxed and you lifted up your cup toward her.

“Cheers?” You asked with a half smile on your face. This earned you a small smile from the girl as she brought her cup up to tap yours. You smiled and both of you brought your cups to your lips, you taking a small sip while she threw her head back and downed the whole glass.

“Hey! Woah, woah, woah, take it easy! Nance!” Steve was suddenly beside you, reaching across you to try and grab the cup out of her hand.

“We’re just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn’t that the deal?” She glared at him before downing more punch, wiping away the bit that spilled onto her face, and shoving her way into the crowd to dance.

Steve’s expression fell a bit as he watched her leave, but his focus shifted to you. “Sorry about that. She’s just…in a bit of a mood today,” he apologized and shook his head, “but I’m so glad you’re here! I mean, I was pretty sure you were gonna bail on me considering I know for a fact that you were invited to some of my house parties last year and you didn’t show.”

“How dare I, right?” You rolled your eyes and chuckled. It’s true. You had been invited to his parties, especially after your encounter with the demogorgon had brought the two of you together in a weird but irreversible way. You would always have that experience, but you weren’t interested in changing for him. Besides, he was never the one to personally extend the invitation, instead you heard about it from someone else every time.

“You aren’t in costume.”

“Way to point out the obvious,” you retorted, finishing your first cup of punch. Steve shot you a look, clearly not trusting that you knew your limits with alcohol. “You’re joking, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it seems a bit hypocritical for the king of parties himself to be judgmental about someone else’s drinking habits.”  “Well, it’s exactly that. I don’t get the impression that you have drinking habits, and if it’s your first time drinking, you should watch yourself, you know? Can’t fault me for looking out for a friend,” he added and you bristled a bit at that last word. Friend.

“Y/n, what?” He asked, noticing your reaction. You sighed before responding, not really sure how this conversation was going to go.

“So…we’re friends now?” You asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

Steve was taken aback, clearly confused by your confusion. “What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Y/n, we went through so much together last year, I mean, did you really think I was just gonna drop you like all that shit didn’t matter?”

“You kind of did. It’s not like we hang out or really talk or anything remotely close to what friends would do. We’re just two people who know each other a little bit better than we did. I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘being friends’,” you responded, putting air quotes around the final words. You hoped that your statement didn’t hurt him. It was the truth though. Your shoulders tensed as you awaited his response.

“You know what? You’re right y/n, and I’m sorry. I should’ve done more to keep in touch, and I’m not going to make any excuses. So let’s just start over, okay?” He asked, his big brown eyes staring into yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you nodded, not trusting that your voice wouldn’t fail you.

“Alright, perfect,” he smiled, and suddenly he extended his hand towards you, “hey, I’m Steve. I don’t know you but you seem pretty tough, and like you might have some killer fighting instincts, so I thought we could be friends.”

You laughed. Like really laughed, and Steve was beaming. You wiped away a tear that slipped from your eye as you took a breath to regain your composure. It was all so absurd and perfect and so incredibly Steve that you couldn’t help but accept his offer. You willed your palms not to sweat as you grabbed his hand and shook it, “Well, I’m y/n, and yeah, you’re right; I do have some pretty kick-ass instincts, but I can’t promise it will keep you out of trouble.”

“That’s okay because I’ve got some pretty kick-ass moves myself, so I think we’ve got it covered,” he added, smiling at you. He let go of your hand before saying “well, Nancy’s probably halfway to being shit faced, so we should probably go party it up with her while her memory’s still intact.”

You nodded as you turned to exit the kitchen, Steve placing a hand on your back as he guided you through the mess of people dancing to get to Nancy. It was fun to let loose and dance, and you wondered why you hadn’t let yourself party like this before. It felt freeing, and you felt the slight buzz from the drinks that you’d had as you let your body move to the music that was almost too loud to hear yourself think.

Suddenly, you felt hands around your waist, and you instantly sobered up, remembering a big part of why you didn’t like parties: asshole guys who were just looking for a quick hook up.

“Hey!” You shouted as you turned around, eyes met with the same piercing blue ones from earlier.

“Woah, no need to get all angry, baby. I gotta say it’s pretty hot though,” Billy chuckled as he moved his hands to grab at your waist again. You maneuvered away from his grasp, swatting his hands away.

“Can’t you tell I’m not fucking interested,” you replied.

“Baby, come on—“

You cut him off, “I’m not your fucking baby.”

“No need to be a bitch about it, come on. Can’t have a little fun?”

“She said she’s not interested, dude. Leave her alone,” Steve spoke up, having realized the position you were in. He moved to stand between the two of you, pulling you by the wrist behind him. Nancy was pretty wasted but aware enough to act, as she took your hand and pulled you farther away, weaving through the crowd to create some distance.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware that you had two girlfriends, Harrington. I mean, I’m shocked you even have the one to begin with,” Billy retorted, taking a step towards Steve.

Steve stood his ground, knowing it wasn’t worth it to get heated over Billy’s comments. Billy just wanted to get a rise out of him and Steve wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction.

“I’m just looking out for a girl that needs help. If you’re not going to listen to her maybe you’ll listen to a guy, okay? So walk away.”

“Whatever, Harrington,” Billy replied as he shoved Steve in the shoulder and turned around to walk away. Tommy H was hot on his heels, a mindless dummy and fair weather fan to whoever he deemed to be top dog at any given moment.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Steve caught up with you and Nancy.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Ugh, I just hate assholes, like come on!” You exclaimed, hugging your arms around yourself in an attempt to be self-soothing.

Steve opened his mouth to apologize when he realized Nancy was going back to the punch bowl. He quickly pivoted, following her into the kitchen. “Nancy, no, you’ve had enough, okay?” He said as he tried to grab the cup out of her hand again like he had earlier.

“Screw you,” she slurred, pulling her hand out of his reach and dunking her cup in the bowl.

“No, Nancy, I’m serious! Stop…Nance, put it down,” he warned, grabbing at the cup again. Nancy continued to protest, and Steve continued to fight it until he lost his grip on the cup and its bright red contents went spilling onto Nancy’s pristine white shirt. An audible gasp rang out through the party as those in the near vicinity stopped their dancing to gawk at Hawkins’ power couple’s power struggle.

“What the hell?” Nancy whispered as she stormed out of the room, and Steve pushed past you to follow, yelling after her. And just like that, you were alone. Without Steve and Nancy’s presence to calm you down, you felt your anxiety rise in your throat. You scanned the crowd, trying to find anyone that you knew moderately well enough to crash their group, and when you found no one, you cursed yourself for being such a loner. That was until your eyes met Jonathan Byers’, dressed equally un-festively, and you sighed a huge sigh of relief.

“Jonathan!” You shouted over the music, making your way over to him. Clearly he had seen what just transpired between Nancy and Steve, eyes darting back to focus on the hallway they’d disappeared down.

“Hey, y/n. What just happened?”

“Nancy’s pretty wasted and Steve was trying to cut her off and he spilled her drink on her. They’re probably in the bathroom trying to clean it up, though I doubt it’ll do any good. That punch is definitely going to stain.”

You didn’t know Jonathan super well, but you resonated with him. Both of you were more inclined to keep to yourselves, but via absurd and inter-dimensional means, ended up intertwined in the lives of your high school’s most popular couple. You saw the way he looked at Nancy when they talked, and it wasn’t dissimilar to how you looked at Steve; wanting for something that you couldn’t have but settling for what you did.

The two of you found a quiet corner and continued to make small talk, catching up on each other’s lives since you didn’t talk much. Jonathan told you about how Will was struggling, still visiting Hawkins’ Lab for appointments in an attempt to sort out his PTSD.

“The doctor says it’s some anniversary effect, and how since we’re coming up on a year, he’s just more on edge than usual. He’s been having these episodes though.”

“Episodes?”

“Yeah, they’re kind of like these waking nightmares I guess. He’s still scared out of his mind, y/n,” Jonathan explained, and you saw the pain in his expression. Your heart ached and you felt a lump in your throat as you thought about the way the poor kid was struggling. You wished you could just make it all go away, that you could erase it ever happening in the first place.

“And you trust this guy? The doctor I mean?” You asked hesitantly.

“He seems like a good guy. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he’s being completely transparent. I guess I’m on edge too. It just seems like everyone’s bracing for something else to happen,” Jonathan added, and you felt the tension in your shoulders as he said it.

Suddenly, Steve stormed through the family room, Nancy noticeably absent. He quickly maneuvered through the crowd, reaching the front door and slamming it shut behind him.

You looked at Jonathan. “Divide and conquer?” You asked, knowing that the two of you were going to have to pick up the pieces of whatever had happened between the two of them. Jonathan quickly nodded, as you dropped your prior conversation. “Okay, I don’t have a car and Nancy’s not in a state to walk home, so you take care of her and I’ll handle Steve,” you added as you started walking backwards to make your way towards the door.

“Are you sure? He seems pretty mad.”

“I’ve handled worse!” You shouted back as you turned and swiftly made it out the door. Your eyes scanned the front lawn, still littered with people, but they quickly found the brown mop of hair that you had become familiar with just as he was reaching his car.

“Steve!” You shouted, but he ignored you, fumbling with his keys as he tried to unlock the door. By the time he finally managed to get it unlocked and opened, you had grabbed the side of the door so he couldn’t close it and drive off.

“Y/n, just leave me alone, okay? I’m seriously not in the mood,” he warned, his head hung as he tried desperately to avoid eye contact with you. His voice wavered a bit and you could tell by his body language that he was pretty upset.

“No, I’m not going to leave you alone; you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Then get in the car because I’m not fucking staying here,” he sighed and you hesitated before moving around to the passenger seat.

“What happened?” You gently asked as he began to pull away from Tina’s house, the night that you had all been anticipating clearly ending in disaster.

“Oh, you know, just Nancy saying that our relationship is pretty much complete and utter bullshit which is what every guy wants to hear from the woman that he loves,” he replied. His announcement of his love for Nancy stung, but you pushed it aside; this wasn’t about your feelings.

“What do you mean? What’s going on? You guys always seem so happy together,” you were honestly pretty shocked. They were the perfect couple; the kind of people who would end up high school sweethearts and the talk of every high school reunion. It couldn’t possibly all be bullshit.

“The Hollands are selling their house to pay some private investigator to find Barb.”

Oh.

Your stomach dropped and suddenly your body seemed to remember the alcohol you had consumed.

“Steve, stop the car.”

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on? Are you—“

You cut him off, shouting “just stop the damn car! Now!” The car screeched to a halt as he slammed his foot on the brake pedal. You quickly opened the door, retching onto the desolate backroad that you were currently on. Steve rubbed big circles across your back as your stomach emptied its contents. When you were done, you shut the door, tears running down your face.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. Sometimes I just forget about all of it; push it all away because I’m not ready to handle it and I just think about what it was like to be face to face with th-that—that thing and I can’t imagine what Barb’s final moments were like and I just—“ your sobs cut you off, unable to speak through your horror in contemplating Barb’s death.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay y/n. I’m right here,” Steve reminded you, pulling you into a hug as you buried your face in his neck. He held onto you until you were able to calm down and you pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry. I monopolized your turn being the one in crisis,” you let out a weak laugh, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes as you sniffled.

“No, honestly that was helpful. I think I get where Nancy’s coming from a little better now. Maybe she didn’t really mean all that shit about us, you know?” He rationalized.

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied, your voice small.

“Hey, don’t disappear on me now. We’re handling this crisis together and we’re putting it behind us, okay? So what’s going on?”

“It’s just…I was almost her,” you whispered, looking in horror at Steve.

“What?”

“I was almost Barb. If you hadn’t shown up—“

“Y/n, don’t think like that. You can’t think like that. It’s going to eat away at you. You’re here. I’m here. And we’re okay,” it seemed like he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. You nodded, not entirely persuaded but ready to be done with the conversation. “Alright, where to?”

“Just mine, you know,” you said quietly, embarrassed that Steve was going to see your house. It was dinky compared to the Harrington residence. You knew he wouldn’t care, but you couldn’t help but feel inferior.

“Sure thing,” he replied as he put the car in drive, as you both attempted to put the evening’s sourness behind you. You chatted and caught up on all of the normal things you’d missed as you’d drifted apart this past year and by the time he reached your house, you felt a little bit better about things.

If only the two of you knew about the danger that was still lurking right under your feet.

***

a/n: I hoped y’all liked this chapter! I’m so excited to continue this story as we unpack all of the upside down nonsense of season 2! I’m new to this whole writing fanfic thing, so if you really liked it, I would be forever grateful if you would be so kind as to reblog it! It really helps it get to other people!

#steve harrington x reader #joe keery #stranger things #netflix #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington the babysitter #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers

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polaroidhugs · 1 month ago

Text

Poker face

CH 2 - Poker face

(CH 1. - HERE)

Summary: You and Chishiya partake in both of your first 'games' in the new deserted city of Tokyo—except for the teeny fact that neither of you has ever played the game at hand before and everyone else at the table seems to be masters.

A/N: Ohmygosh this chapter was so annoying to write... (Why it took so long.) I learned how blackjack works writing this while going over the manga at least ten dozen times. Though I didn't explain it in the writing cause just who do you think I am. ANYWAYS, enjoy.

WARNINGS: Swearing. Gore - gun wounds, nooses etc. (But it's not very descriptive.) Alluding to criminalistic past.

WC: 7235 words.

“So it looks like we can’t move from these seats until we finish!” The show-off declares loudly, as if we’re all too moronic to understand somwrhing so obvious. His voice is filled with a disgusting superiority that makes me want to sucker punch him in his flashy golden teeth. “And we get a hangin’ if we lose? Chilling!”

“Let’s just get this over with.” The old lady sighs, uninterested in what the Show-off has to say. She takes another slow drag from her cigarette, a thick cloud of smoke pouring from her nostrils. “That disgusting voice of yours reminds me of my late husband.” She adds, her voice laced with a disgusting sense of bitterness. I don’t know a thing about her late husband, but I understand. The show off’s voice is an assault on my beautiful ears, screeching and grating like nails on a chalkboard.

“One winner remains…” Tall-hair mumurs to himself. “So that means we’re all facing eachother.” Thanks for your insight, genius. none of us would’ve figured that out without your input.

“Excuse me, may I ask something?” Chishiya speaks up, his voice smooth and casual. He tilts his head to the side, his posture languid and composed, like he’s already one step ahead the rest of us idiots.

I can almost feel what he’s going to ask, unless I’m assuming cause it’s all that’s plaguing my mind:

“Do people really die in this game?”

It’s not just an assumptiom. He asked the question for the both of us. But there’s a reason- or, reasons I didn’t ask that question myself: One, nerve. But also, we’ve only just arrived, and I assume these people have too. So how would they know the answer to that? Surely Chishiya is aware of that too. He must be. Before I can get too lost in the spiral of my thoughts and questions, a gruff voice cuts through the tension.

“Ain’t this somethin’!” Show-off barks. “Didn’t expect for some newcomers to get mixed in!” That settles it, then: Yes, they do. But hold on- newcomers? That would mean that he and the others must have been here longer than we have. but how can that be so? This isn’t some back to the future shit, is it? No, that’s impossible. My head is spinning.

On the table lies a piece of paper with endless ballpoint writing on it. I slip past Chishiya, my arm brushing against Chishiya’s shoulder as I lean over to grab it. Upon inspection, It’s the rules for this game of blackjack. I pass it to Chishiya, who takes his sweet ass time to read through it, not like this is life or death, or anything. Take your time, man.

“So, do you understand?” The question slips from my lips, but it’s not a casual inquiry. No, I’d frame it more as a desperate plea. I look him in his eyes, and I know my emotions are evident; they’re screaming through my my expression to the point it’s painful to hold.

He lets out a small, almost amused chuckle. “I don’t really get it all.” He admits to me, his words landing like a hard punch to the stomach. My face falls instantly, and in sensing my reaction, Chishiya tries to salvage whatever trust I just had in him.“I guess I’ll learn as I go.”

After a few seconds of just me looking at him in horror, the chips get come out of the table on rectangular platforms infront of each of the 5 contestants.

A few agonizing seconds pass of me, frozen, just staring at Chishiya in horror. But then, as if on cue, rectangular platforms infront of everybody at the table emerge, and they all have vastly different amounts on them. My mind goes blank for a second before I realize just how different the amounts are.

Oh, we are so fucked. While everyone else has atleast a dozen chips, the guy with a buzzcut having 30-something, Chishiya and I get graced with a lovely five. five!

“Why are they different? Ain’t this unfair!” Show-off yowls in anger. Imagine how we feel, damn Show-off! You have quintuple what we have, and you’re complaining?

“Most likely the number of chips we were given,” Tall-hair speaks up. Only Buzzcut left now, then I’ll have heard every one of these people speak. These are going to be the last people I interact with, so I should probably cherish it, right? Damn, my sense of finality is through the roof right now. How fascinating.

“Relates to our remaining allowances on our visas. It’s how much time we have left.” Visas? My mind highlights the word. My probation isn’t over for another year now, so what importance does a visa pose for me? Especially when everybody else is gone?

“I see.” Buzzcut speaks up. Five for five! “Those whose visas end today have 5 hours left before they’re killed by a laser. Each of these chips represent an hour.” Are you fucking kidding me? My mind reels with disbelief, but it’s quickly replaced by a seething, gnawing anger that envelops me. A laser? Is this purgatory? Did that pussy from juvie’s curse actually work? What the hell did I do to deserve this? Sure, I’ve hurt some people over the years—made mistakes I can’t undo—by death by laser? It’s absurd. The thought almost makes me laugh, but there’s no humor in it. What kind of sick joke is this?

I glance at Chishiya, and all I see is a blank mask of concentration. His eyes are locked on the chips infront of him. Then, slowly, he shifts his head, just enough for his peripheral vision to catch my gaze. A slight grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.“The two of us don’t have much time left, so how about we get this started?”

The first person dealing is Tall-hair, and that’s just about all I think I’ll be able to understand out of this game moving forward. The rest? I’m leaving that up to my guy here. Everybody at the table bets a miniscule amount of chips, and Chishiya bets one: Good, if he had bet anymore than that, I think I’d strangle him.

“Hit. Stand. Split.” These three different words tumble from everyone else’s mouth, where exactly they came from a blur. I’m lost, right now the game makes no sense to me. But then there’s Chishiya, observing it with that same detached intelligence he always seems to have.

“Your turn.” Tall- hair tells Chishiya indifferently. Meanwhile, the others at the table are watching Chishiya, their eyes practically praying for his downfall. “What will you do?”

I don’t think. I just react. Without a word, I grip onto Chishiya’s shoulders, shaking him gently but still with urgency. It’s an unspoken way to tell him, ‘Think wiseley- if you fuck up, we’re dead.’

“Okay. hit.” I hope like hell that was the right call. The dealer slides a pair of cards towards him: a 2 of spades and 3 of diamonds, both joining his pre-dealt hand: the Jack of clubs and 2 of diamonds.

“Hm…” Chishiya thinks for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between his cards with a rapid intensity, like he’s thinking of all 14 million universes Strange mentioned at once.

“Hit.” He says again, more decisively this time.

For some reason, that’s enough to surprise Show-off. His expression shifts, like he wasn’t expecting it. That can’t be a good sign for us.

"Hm..." Chishiya's gaze flickers downward, his eyes darting back and forth between his cards with a rapid intensity, as though he's looking through 14 million universes like Doctor Strange.

The next card slides towards Chishiya—- a 4 of clubs. I don’t know all the intricacies of this game, but I remember one thing from watching my boss play: Your hand reaching a total of 21? As good as it gets. A smile shines onto my face, and before I can stop it, my fingers instinctively tighten against Chishiya’s collarbone, giving him a small shake. I shouldn’t be so jolly right now, but a part of this feels more thrilling than terrifying.

“I did it, a 21. Isn’t this the strongest hand?” Chishiya flaunts as collective grumbles come out from everybody else at the table. Damn, that’s satisfying. I almost wanna shove it in everyone’s faces that a guy who didn’t know the rules 15 minutes ago beat their asses, but I’ve gotten my head shoved into the dirt enough times cause of that now to know to think before I do.

“If you hadn’t taken four, I would’ve won that.” Tall-hair states, his eyes practically burning into the side of Chishiya’s face. The intensity of his stare is something serious, I can almost feel the heat from here.I think everyone here seriously have something against us: It’s like the moment they saw us they got distracted from eachother and all just unanimously started to pray on our downfall.

“Let’s just call it beginners luck.” Chishiya says cheerfully as he flashes a smile. It’s the kind of smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

And onto Show-offs turn for dealing. Chishiya, unfazed, continues to observe, his eyes scanning the table as he places a single chip on the line again. At this point, my hands have travelled from his shoulders back to the chair. The way he doesn’t care I had my hands on him is so refreshing, if he was any other guy he would’ve thought I was hitting on him. Gross.

The voices of the others around the table drift in and out of my awareness. My eyes fall to the chips. Buzz-cut is sitting comfortably with a towering stack of 70-80 chips while everybody else has around 30. Except for Chishiya and I- we have around 10. Great. In the distance of my mind, I can one of them irate about how the cards not being in their favor. Imagine how we feel, asshole.

My train of thought gets derailed by Chishiya. “I think I’ve got it.” he tells me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he gives a small nod. There’s a reason why Chishiya’s a fancy med student at the same age as me. I’ve been observing, but nothing has clicked for me. Meawhile, he got it. What did he get, exactly? I don’t know. It.

The game progresses to the next round, and Chishiya casually starts fiddling with his chips, letting one slide between his fingers and clicking it repeatedly against the table. click…click…click… against the table, over and over. It’s kind of irritating me to be honest, which is good. It means it’s also irritating the other players, too.

“Hey…” Show-off speaks up, his voice rough and almost likd a growl. Creepy. “Thats fucking annoying! I can’t concentrate!” Then, without missing a beat, he turns to me as if I’m some great voice of reason that’ll make Chishiya stop: I won’t.

“Oh, well, it’s not like it’s against the rules.” Chishiya states dryly, though there’s a smugness bleeding through his statement.

“Tch…” The sharp click of Show-offs tongue cuts through the air like a knife. “Fucking brat!” He bellows. It’s a wonder how this guy’s vocal cords haven’t been shredded by now. Seriously, does this guy ever get tired of screeching all the damn time? I’m suprised his voice isn’t raspier than it is.

“Hit. Stand. Hit.” In the blink of an eye, Chishiya has amassed about 10 tokens, pushing up our total up to 21. He’s good. Even I can’t quite figure out how he pulled that off. But then again, I haven’t exactly been absorbing the details of what’s happening infront of me. I see it, but I don’t absorb it.

A sharp, incredulous “Wha…” Comes from Show-off, and I already know he’s about to throw another hissy fit. Here we go again. “How the hell…” He mutters, vis voice rising a few decibels as he abruptly stands up from his seat, the noose around his neck following him. Well, isn’t that just dandy? “Are you going up in chips!?” He slams his hands into the table, hard enough to send the stack of chips Chishiya had so carefully stacked scattered all across the table. I let out an exasperated groan, leaving over the table to put the chips that are rightfully ares back in a pretty stack. As I metisculously stack them back into place, I hear the Lady’s voice, calm but probing.“Cheating?” She asks, with no real accusation in her tone. She doesn’t seem annoyed if Chishiya is, which he isn’t. She’s just curious.

“I guess you could just call it card counting.” Chishiya speaks up dismissively as he plucks one of the chips I missed and adds it back to our stack. “It’s simply a game of numbers. In the long run, the percentages settle out.” Ah, I see. So that’s what he’s been thinking about. He was coming up with a way to make his decisions in this game based on statistics. A small spark of hope ignites in my chest. We are so getting out of this alive!

“Are you telling me that in this short amount of time, you came up with a card counting theory?!” Tall-hair asks in disbelief, his sharp features twisting into a mix of shock and suspicion. But, as disbelieving as Tall-hair is, there’s someone in even more disbelief than him– and boy, is he vocal about it.

“Only the most skilled could actually pull those calculations off! So how’s an amateur like you…” Show-off trails off in thought, like something has just dawned on him. So, he just shuts up. Good, his loud, grating voice pisses me off. His silence is like music to my ears.

“Please feel free to take note.” Chishiya smiles. His voice, usually flat and emotionless takes on a mocking tone, dripping with a subtle arrogance that makes me joyful. “After all, the only thing idiots can do is mimic others.”

And with that, the gazes of the others change when they look at us– No longer dismissive. It’s insane how they can go from looking at us like we’re weaklings to their eyes burning with resentment, and, pinch me if I’m dreaming, maybe some fear. It’s intoxicating, how it feels to have the people who looked down upon you a second ago suddenly see you as on their level. A threat. But we’re not on their level, at least, Chishiya isn’t. He’s above them.

Now it’s Tall-hairs’ final turn as dealer. Chishiya’s gaze locks onto him, his sharp eyes narrowing in concentration. He’s thinking. God, I love it when he does that. Every thought he makes puts us a step closer to walking out of here alive.

The mantle of dealer gets tossed to Show-off. He thinks he’s being sneaking, but his cheap trick is painfully obvious to me. As he slides a card across the table to the Lady, I catch the glint of his tacky golden ring reflecting the light: He’s using it as a mirror to see the second card, then deal from there rather than the top. It’s something my old boss told us to look out for. Or rather, he caught someone cheating that way and what he did is forever ingrained in my mind now. Man, that guys’ eye was almost pitch black when we left.

I lean forward, resting my hand on the edge of Chishiya’s chair, and bend down to share eye level with him. The wood of the chair is cool beneath my sweaty palms. My voice drops to a whisper, low enough so only he can interpret what I’m saying.

“Chishiya…” I murmur, my breath brushing against the shell of his ear. “Tell Dealer to lose the ring.” Chishiya’s expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t say anything back to me. He just follows my command like a robot. “Hey. Gold-tooth Geezer.”

Show-off pauses mid motion, his hand freezing over the deck of cards. His gold-capped teeth glint under the dim lighting of the room as he shoots us a glare. His eyes filled with a mix of confusion and anger. I don’t think it’s just Chishiya interrupting him that irked him, but also the fact that he got called a gold-toothed geezer.

“‘Looks kind of hard to deal with that ring,” Chishiya continues, his voice smooth and taunting. He raises one arm lazily, his fingers waving back and forth like a pendulum as if he had a fancy ring of his own “How about you take it off?”

Geezer’s face darkens, his expression twisting into something ugly and venomous. If it weren’t for the noose and rule of the game restraining him, I’m certain he would’ve lunged at Chishiya. Instead, Show-off’s hand shake with anger as he yanks the ring off his finger. “How annoying can you be!” He roars. Heh, I’m not sure if he noticed, but the cigar somehow still in his mouth made him have a bit of a lisp there.

The game continues on, and Chishiya and Tall-hair both bust, which I’ve come to figure is quite bad. Show-off yells something about taking all of our chips while reeling them in with his arm, forgetting how angry he was just a few seconds ago. For the next round, Chishiya slides a single chip towards the center of the table with his middle and index fingers.

“Why so little? Luck’s finally on my side. Wish you would bet a little bit more.” Show-off taunts, his voice dripping with a disgusting arrogancy as his eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes me want to run out of the room. Can this creep stop staring at me? Jesus. I avert my eyes, but I can still feel him staring.

“I’ll soon have you begging…” Show-off continues, widening his eyes manically. “And I’ll erase that smug smile off of your face.”He leans back in his chair, the wood creaking underjos weight, and lets out a guttural laugh as he does so.

“Betting a little more, huh?” For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Buzzcut speaks up, his voice deeper than before. “Fine. I’ll go all in.” He pushes all 30-something off his chips to the middle. The chips clink together as they slide across the surface, which, in the silence of the room feels unnaturally loud

his cool demeanor not wavering for a second though he’s risking his life here: If I want to survive in whatever happened to this city. Buzzcur’s expression remains stoic, even as he risks everything— even his life. If I want to survive through whatever the hell this city has become, I’ll need to be like him, or Chishiya: Uncaring. Unshakable.

Geezer sputters, his face flashing with indignation. “34 chips? You- what are you trying at?”

Tall-hair, ever the smooth talker, interjects with a voice calm as still water. “This game needs to end with one person within the time limit, otherwise it’s game over for all of us.” He pushes his chips forwards as well. “So, now we need to reliably destroy one person at a time. According to the rules, the bet limit is the amount of chips the dealer has. Now if you, the dealer, ends up with a bust, you’ll have 0 chips. Basically, you’re going to be the first person to leave us.”

Ooh! A coup d’etat! I like it! Kicking out the bitchiest player first is a stroke of genius. But hold on, if Chishiya is dealing next, they might try the same thing with him. We’re not safe.

“Us non-dealers just have to keep going from bust.” Lady takes a slow drag from her cigarette before exhaling a thin stream of smoke. She fixes Show-off a piercing stare, her lips curling into a mocking ‘how do you like that?’ smile.

Show-off grumbles, the light from his eyes soaring away. Every muscle in his face is scrunched into anger, anger directed towards me. He saw me whispering into Chishiyas ear, he knows I’m the one who set this in motion. Forget wanting to jump across the table and smack Chishiya— he wants to kill me.

“So, you bastards are trying to off me first?” He sneers, his lps twisting to a laughable imitation of a smile. It’s not sincere, not even close. He’s trying to convince himself right now, ‘there’s no reason to panic. My tricks are perfect! Just get through this round and I’m fine.’ Haha. You are so dead, dude: Just accept it!

Chishiya and Tall-hair both decide to stand with their cards, and that sours Show-off’s face down to what it should be: Worried.

Buzz-cut notices the sbift, and I guess he decides to grace Show-off with one final speech before his death. “In my store, people like you come in and out all the time. From the Yakuza to the shopping district owner, they overestimate the effectiveness of their own tricks. Just because you’re using tricks, does that make you a strong gambler?” The lady stands.

“There was a crepe store owner who came into my shop every night, clutching his earnings of the day. The tricks up his sleeve were just average, but one night he began to fall into a large losing streak. He took a loan from his house and what followed was his tipping point. He only had his own self left to bet. He was then wiped from the face of society. It was a shame when I realized I wouldn’t be able to taste those delicious crepes again.”

The lady stands once again: It’s kind of fascinating, with every new move we make, Show-off’s face contorts to a completely different sense of dread.

“That crepe vendor relied too much on tricks. These chips, whether they be money or time remaining, in the end, it’s your life you’re betting with: Unless you have the backbone to stare death in the eye, tricks aren’t going to help you for shit.”

With hearing that, Show-off is trembling in his chair. Of course, he’s too arrogant to wipe that fuckass grin off his face. His breathe is shaky as he deals another card.

“Did you know? The chance of a dealer bust is apparently thirty percent?” With that, Show-off plops his last card onto his jack and six: It’s a king. Over 21. A bust.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, there’s a sickening crack, the noose around Show-off’s yanks him onto the air, snapping his neck. His body swings around in the air for a few seconds before slowing down and just… Hanging there. It truly is a gruesome sight, but for some reason I can’t seem to look away.

Just our luck. Chishiya is the next to deal. That means we’re back to being prey. I liked that coup d’etat moment. I think it all brought us a little closer, you know? But now that we’re the government in this scenario, I’m not so sure I’m liking it. Just stick to my thought process, I tell myself. it hasn’t failed me so far: My boy Chishiya’s got this.

With Show-off’s death, Chishiya gains a measly one chip, while Buzzcut now holds a staggering hundred. That’s great. What’s even greater, is what Buzz-cut utters next. “With this, one person is out. We’ll absolutely destroy the next dealer.”

Now I’m the one wanting to lunge across the table to punch somebody. How the tables have turned. Then, I hear it– the familiar ding! of my phone. I reach into my pocket and pull it out. “Time remaining: 20 minutes.” Come on… I don’t know much about Blackjack, but that’s probably enough time to skip killing us, right? With the speed this guy is trying to kill us off, he can definitely afford to skip us! In terms of chips, we’re the least he has to worry about! We have 13 and he has 30.

Tall-hair’s expression is razor-sharp, his piercing gaze locked onto Chishiya as she deftly flicks out the next round of cards. So, I astutely watch him back. I’m not sure why. To assert my dominance, maybe? Chishiya is calm as a swan, but if I’m back her sweating my ass off, what good is his poker face?

Tall-hair senses, my stare, and our eyes meet. His widen slightly, a flicker of surprised breaking through his stoic expression before he quickly looks away, focusing on the card that’s been dealt to him.

“It’s about time for the show-down.” Buzzcut announces, his chin resting on his interlaced fingers as he stares deeply into my soul. I meet his stare head-on. He doesn’t seem to care, though, as he just averts his gaze to his chips and pushes them forward.

“I’m betting the max.”

Everyone else at the table stands. Even Lady, whose hand is a pair of tens, remains standing. Right now, our hand is a 5 and 9. Chishiya contorts his fingers like hes reaching for something, and hoverd them over our two cards.

“We’re in trouble if this isn’t a low card… This is my good luck ritual.” He smirks, and I can see him glancing back at me out of the corner of his eye. Maybe a good luck ritual isn’t a bad idea, but I have no idea what to do. So I guess I’ll just pray.

Buzzcut stands up and slam the table just like Show-off did few minutes before biting the dust. “You just don’t know when to give up. Stop fucking around and hurry up!”

Chishiya doesn’t react. Not a flinch or twitch. He remains nonchalant as ever, his movements smooth and deliberate and slides our card across the table. I almost can’t bring myself to look. Whatever this card is decides whether or not we get hung or not. Hold on, there’s no noose around me. How would I die?

It’s a 7 of spades. Relief spreads through me– I don’t have to worry about that yet.

“21. Dealer takes all. Guess my ritual worked.” Chishiya says coolly. He glances back at me, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say it almost looked like Chishiya was trying to get my approval, to notice that what he did was extra badass. To his credit, I do see what he did there: A turnover. He drew everybody’s attention to his hand, including mine, and flipped the deck over to get the unused low cards on the top rather than the high ones while they weren’t paying attention .

“Huh?” Buzzcut slams back down into his seat. “Was that a fluke?” Lady gasps, her eyes wide as she takes a long drag from her cigarette. Tall-hair doesn’t say a word, but the look on his face tells me he knows how that ‘fluke’ really happened just as I do.

“What will you do? Bet the limit again? But if I win this time, I’ll have more chips, and the one being hunted will be you.” I want so desperately want to rub it in Buzz-cut’s sorry face that my guy beat his little game, but I have to bite my tongue. It’s always the braggers that walk away embarrassed of their defeat. Well, I guess I wouldn’t have to worry about that, cause I’d be dead. But my point still stands.

There’s a long pause of waiting for his answer, and it just beckons me to brag. I have to clench my jaw tight to stop myself. “First, I refuse. From here on I will not let the slightest trick past me. If you do so, consider yourself dead!” What’s he gonna do? Shadow box me? The rules stated no illegal restraint. But then catch something–something I have no idea how I haven’t caught before.

A fucking handgun in the table.

I guess my brain didn’t really process it before or something, but there are guns infront of everybody, the only thing covering them being a thin pane glass,with large red buttons infront. Damn, how did I not notice that? That’s so obnoxious! The rules do state no illegal restraint, but what about legal? That’s what those babies are for.

Chishiya has been the star of the show, but once I get a hand on that sweet firearm, I’m stealing the spotlight right out from under him. No way a guy like him can properly use one, much less the other fuckwads at this table. Man, I’ve been waiting for this day. A day where being a deliquent loser all my highschool years pays off.

I’ve been so wrapped up in thought, practically drooling at the thought of the gun that I don’t notice the display Tall-hair has going on. He’s fanned all the cards out onto the table, furrowing his brows as he looks down at the cards with a stone cold face.

“What are you trying at?” The Lady asks for me, smoke pouring out of her mouth as she asks. “To ensure no foul play, I’d like to inspect all the cards.” Okay, buddy. You’re not fooling nobody. You’re about to enact the fouliest play of them all with how much you’re doing. I’m not quite sure what he’s doing but I have a guess. With some tricks he was doing with his cards earlier, I can deduce he’s a magician. He’s probably going to shuffle his cards in a way where he can know the exact cards that are there. To pull that off, though, he’d have to be one good motherfucker at memorizing cards. Is he? I hope not.

Tall-hair reassembles the deck and begins to deal out the cards but before he can deal the Lady her’s, he’s caught red-handed: Second- dealing. One of the most basic tricks in the book, and his magician ass still messes it up? This guy is pathetic.

The second card is hanging out of the deck as Tall-hair face falls, his expression morphing into one of pure defeat. Beads of sweat dot his forehead, his heads trembling with barely concealed anxiety.

It was his fear that gave him away. If his hand hadn’t been shaking, if he hadn’t tried to snatch the card from the deck too quickly, iif he hadn’t pressed down on the deck so hard, he might’ve succeeded. It’s definitely something he’s done before, he isn’t some newbie.

“Uh-oh.” A large grin plasters across my face. It’s horrible I find this amusing, it really is. I know it is. But I’m just so glad he’s next on the chopping block and not me. “No excuses. You’re caught red-handed.” I open my hands, my eyes locking on his. Does this count as bragging? No… Just mockery, I think. What am I doing? This is cruel. And yet, I just can’t stop the words from flowing out of my mouth.

“What da’ya think, guys? How do we settle this?” I clap my hands together and purse my lips, tilting my head at Tall-hair. As if on cue, the red buttons on the table begin blaring an ear-piercing alarm and flashing a violent, pulsating red. Every button lighrs up– except for the one in front of Tall-hair.

“Wha- What’s going on?!” He cries, his voice cracking as he whips his head around, searching our faces for answers. His eyes are wide and frantic. Fuck me, I’m horrible. “I see. So that’s how it is.” Without hesitation, Buzzcut slams his fist down on his button. The glass covering his gun whirs open, retracting into the table. In a blink, he grabs the firearm, his fingers wrapping around the grip and points it directly at Tall-hair.

BANG!

The sound is deafening, reverberating through the room. One moment, Tall-hair is standing there, the next, he’s crumpled on the ground, a pool of dark blood spreading beneath him, seeping from the bullet wound lodged in his skull. Still with that same terrified look he had when he was alive. The rope makes a soft wooshing sound as it falls to the floor besides his lifeless body.

Shit. I haven’t seen a sight like this since I was in juvenile. This is so fucked, man… Why am I here? I should be home after a long day of being slumped in front of my computer, typing away at some meaningless report, pretending I’m doing something important. But instead I’m playing a life or death game of blackjack with this random genius who was a stranger to me before today.

I avert my eyes away from the repulsive sight, but I can still see Tall-hair’s in my peripheral vision. I focus them on the next card dealer, Buzzcut. His large amount of chips are stacked infront of him like a great wall, he has to go out of his way to avoid knocking them over as he reaches for the bloodied deck of cards. Disgusting.

“There’s four- really, three of us left. We’re nearing the climax. First I have one word of warning.” Oh, great, I think, rolling my eyes. Are you gonna tell us you’re gonna kill us if we cheat? You already proved that point. But Buzzcut isn’t done. He plucks a card from the top of the deck—the ace of spades—and holds it up for us to see.

“Have you ever heard of a card mechanic? Their sleight of hand operates at machinelike precision. They’re trick masters hired by casinos.” He flicks his wrist, and the ace vanishes into air. Then, he does it again. And suddenly there are three ace cards fanned out in his hands. We are so done.

“You won’t be able to win any hands when I’m dealer. So when it’s yor turn to be dealer… I’ll bet the limit and destroy you one by one. You won’t be able to see through my tricks, and I won’t let any of your tricks slide. From here on will be my perfect game.”

I just have to beat this guy now. ‘This will be my perfect game?’ Who the hell do you think you are?

The Lady takes a long exhale. It’s almost like I can see the annoyance radiating off of her. Her eyes are sharp, and she’s staring Buzzcut down like she knows everything about him. This is amazing for me and Chishiya: there’s a common enemy in the room right now.

“What a bunch of good for nothings. Over confident, arrogant, deceitful, always thinking of kicking down others. Each and every single self proclaimed master is a good for nothing.” Just what I was thinking, girl! I muse. Great minds think alike!

“You make it sound like you’ve got experience.” Buzzcut responds dryly, but he frames it as a question.

“Yeah. The absolute sleaziest trick master I knew was my idiot late husband. Always so full of himself, everything that came out of his mouth was a brag. The lies that came from that man smothered him in debt and women… I don’t know why I stuck with him for so long…” yeah, I don’t know why either. He sounds horrible. But atleast she’s admitting it now.

“After that idiot died, I arrived in the borderlands, and thought of myself as purified of his debts…”

Borderlands? I thought this was Tokyo? Is this some type of alternate reality where this place was taken over by some corrupt form of government? Hm. Borderlands does have a nice ring to it.

“…Yet here I am, trapped and having to spend the night with the character I hate the most.”

A thick silence settles over the room as we let her words linger. I hate this loser already, but imagine having to be next to him with him reminding you of your late husband? That’s rough. I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

“Oh, by the way…” Chishiya interjects the silence. What in the world could he possibly think to say right now? It better be something good, atleast. “That thing that you showed us with the cards disappearing and reappearing… If you could do that you’d be able to palm any card you’d like. What if, let’s say, you had hidden one or two cards up your jacket sleeve?”

I thought the nastiest of glares had already been given out today, but good grief, the look Buzzcut gives to Chishiya is horrible. What’s my guy’s point here, though? What is he trying to do? I so desperately want to find out, it’s like I’m a detective as I scan his face. It’s the same as always, except with a little mischievous glint in those eyes of his.

“I wondered what you had to say. So what? Are you going to conduct a body search?” Chishiya laces his fingers together, that sly smirk I already know all too well spreading across his face. “Why not make a bet with me? There’s a card in your left sleeve, yes or no?” He hums.

Buzzcut grumbles and looks down at his chips. “This is stupid. This far into the game, there’s no-”

“Hey, Old Lady, do you want in?” The lady gives Chishiya a surprised look, one of ‘I’m surprised you have the balls to do this.’ Oh, shit. I see what Chishiya’s doing. And there’s no way I’m stopping him. Buzzcut has this one coming.

The lady exhales slowly, a stream of smoke curling from her nostrils. She smushes the cigarette into the table, the ember dying under the pressure of her fingers. A stressed sigh escapes her lipstick-covered lips. “Good grief, what an unpleasant role. Don’t think this is your doing, boy.”

Buzzcut sputters, his eyes widening. “You two! What are you talking about?” Just as soon as the last word leaves his mouth, he realizes it. Just like everyone before him, his face goes from this violent, cocky expression to pure terror. It’s fascinating that death can change the way people act so quick. I mean, would I have ever mocked the magician if this was a normal game of blackjack? Well, yes. But not out loud.

Chishiya, ever the provocateur, grabs one of our leftover cards and crumples it in his hand with a casual flick of his wrist. He lets it go, and the crumpled card flutters weakly in the air before drifting to the ground like a dying leaf. “Uh-oh,” he says, his tone mockingly innocent. “I crumpled an inconvenient card. In front of everyone’s discerning eyes. I’ve cheated, haven’t I?”

Same as when Tall-hair was caught cheating, the red button blares and flashes red. Singular. The only person who can enact the punishment is the Lady.

“There’s only one bullet each, you already used yours earlier. In this situation, the only one to enact judgement on the boy is me, isn’t it?” Without hesitation, she slams her palm onto her button. The glass covering her gun whirs open. It didn’t take more than a second, but watching it felt like it took a minute.

She grabs the gun and aims it directly at Buzzcut. He freezes, his body locking up. Sweat beads on his forehead, glistening under the harsh lightm and his chest heaves as he begins to hyper ventilate.“To yet another person, game over.”

THUD!

The sound is sickening, a dull thump as Buzzcut’s body collapses to the floor. Blood blooms across his white shirt, spreading rapidly from the bullet wound in his chest. His eyes are wide, looking up blankly at the ceiling. And what do you know? As his body slumps, a couple of cards slip out from his sleeve. Good riddance. The only thing standing inbetween us and life now is this Lady. She takes a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket along with a lighter.

“Oh look. He had them up his sleeve after all. He cheated. Appropos restraint was expected. Old lady, you were justified. You could have shot me, ended me and her both. Yet you knew you were right.”

Lady flicks her lighter to the cigarette dangling out of her mouth then takes another drag from it. “If I were to kill you, I would have just lost to his trickery. Besides, forty three years I was struggling with that idiot husband. Even if I don’t like it, I’ve come to understand these ‘trick masters.’”

“You’ve been through a lot.” Chishiya replies dryly. “My condolences.”

“You two are quite the pair.” The lady says, her lips curling into a faint smile as her eyes drops to the pile of chips infront of us. The hell does she mean by that? I think, my brows furroing as I glance down at Chishiya. I was carried by Chisiya the entire game, I didn’t even get to use the beautiful gun infront of us.

“Without knowing the rules on your first day in the borderlands, you defeated masters of trickery… You, girl,” Her eyes shift to me, sharp and appraising, and she points the cigarette in my direction like a conductors baton. “You caught that gangster cheating. I saw you warn the boy. I’m not sure he would’ve found out without you.” This woman really knows how to ring my bells! Keep them compliments coming, please!

“You two have manipulated everything all the way to defeating me. Since I’ve used my gun, no matter what tricks you do infront of my face, I can’t do anything. With the card you destroyed, my chances of winning are reduced. You really are quite the boy.” The lady chuckles dryly, chucking her freshly lit cigarette to the ground. What was the point of lighting it if you were just going to throw it out a second later?

“Coming up on the end of my life, I have no regrets. Let’s end this quickly.” The lady does just as Chishiya did a second ago, and grabs a useless card, crumbling it. The red button in front of her blares to life, its alarm piercing the air as it flashes a violent, pulsating red.

Are you serious? I thought she’d atleast maybe want to just do the normal hit-stand-bust, but relying on us to shoot her? Oh, God. I was just practically fantisizing about using that gun, but on the lady? I liked her, damn it! the other guys could’ve gone and sucked my dick! But her? She’s seems like somebody I could’ve looked up to when I was younger, and that was rare considering I didn’t give shit about authority.

I look at her, searching her face for any sign of fear, any hint of the terror that the others had before her. But there’s none. No sweat dripping down her forehead, no trembling hands, no wide-eyed panic. Instead, she’s calm, almost serene, a warm smile playing on her lips as if she’s at peace with what’s about to happen.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out with trembling hands. The screen lights up with a notification: ‘1 minute remaining.’ My heart pounds in my chest. I have to do this, I tell myself, my throat tightening. If I don’t, all three of us are dead.

I gulp, my mouth dry as I press the button. My hand shakes as I reach for the gun, the cool metal sending a shiver up my arm as I grip it tightly. I raise it, pointing it at the Lady’s head, my finger hovering over the trigger.

Game clear.

Next chapter!!

#chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #chishiya x fem!reader #aib chishiya #aib #alice in borderland #alice in borderland x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #slow burn #poker face

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klausysworld · 1 year ago

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Love is never simple PART 2!!! (Part 1 here)

(I will be changing some things about the original plot, I hope that nobody minds)

After returning home Klaus ordered two of his hybrids to follow and report on Y/n. If she was any good at vampire hunting then he needed to keep a good eye on her. He didn't want her to think she had any kind of upper hand over him.

It was clear to say that he underestimated her.

The second his hybrids set their eyes on her she could sense it. It clicked in her mind immediately that Klaus knew. She had two ways to play: pretend she didn't know or send him a message. She didn't think about it for too long if she were honest, she desperately wanted to behead a hybrid.

It was easy to take them out, they weren't expecting her to be behind them when they followed her round the corner. She called Tyler and yelled t him to get his sorry ass to the street she was on. She them threatened to leave him in a similar state to his fellow mongrels if he didn't do exactly as she said.

That evening, when klaus came home he found both hybrids sat on his bed. Blood covered his bedding, drenching the mattress and staining everything. The hybrids held the others heads in a way that made it seem like it was an offering and it was so psychotically disturbing that Klaus found himself smiling. A laugh left his lips and he pressed his hand to his mouth to quieten himself, unaware that Tyler was messaging Y/n and letting her know of Klaus's reaction.

Klaus changed rooms, not wanting his floors to be stained. The hybrids were burned and he let the others mourn them for a day before getting back to work. He then began to wonder how he should go about Y/n. Clearly she didn't want to be on his side, however he also remembered how she had behaved on the night of homecoming. She had started off being revolted but for a good few minutes she completely forgot what he was. Deep down she was still a just a girl and he could use that to his advantage.

Klaus decided he would try to push her buttons a little. He knew that she had been apart of the reason that Damon and Mikael didn't kill him, this fact made him curious. She didn't want him dead? Or she did but for some reason she needed him alive? He wasn't sure but whatever the reason, she didn't show any warning signs that she was planning his murder. Besides, she wouldn't have sent him his hybrids like that, proof of what she was, if she planned to use it against him. She was smarter than that, he was sure.

He barely slept as he thought of every possibility. He had so many questions that would never be answered and so many theories that would never be proved.

Meanwhile Y/n was sat at her desk, a book in front of her that she had filled out herself. The title?:Niklaus Mikaelson.

She stayed up all night making sure she studied all of his silly little tricks. She found any connections to witches he still had, she needed to make sure he had nobody powerful beside him. She knew that the rest of the originals would be walking around town soon enough and she couldn't have them in contact with witches as well. The whole damn town would be up in flames.

So she set out early, around half 3 in the morning. She sped to get to the desired states, knife in hand and gun hidden just incase she couldn't get close.

Y/n was gone for over week killing off the closest of Klaus's alliances. By the time she returned, Klaus had Tyler bite Caroline and Elena was missing. Damon rang Y/n in a state, telling her that Stefan had her and was threatening to throw her off Wickery bridge.

Y/n had just gotten into town and pulled her car over when she spotted Stefan's car screeching to a stop. Elena's cries could be heard and Stefan's yelling.

Y/n ran over, opening the car door and pulling Elena out into a hug. Elena sobbed into her chest hysterically while Stefan slammed his own door shut.

"Put her back in the car" he demanded, his eyes still void of any emotion. Y/n went to scream at him but Elena was already there "how could you? My parents died on that bridge- I almost died...you know that...you saved me" she whimpered, holding onto Y/n's sleeve like a little child.

Stefan tried to make the argument that this was the only way to get at Klaus. That he had the upper hand and that he wasn't actually going to drive off the bridge but Elena wasn't budging. She begged to know what would have happened if Klaus didn't give in but Stefan didn’t entertain the idea. After letting Elena stand her own for a moment and seeing Stefan so carelessly regard her life, Y/n snapped.

"Elena get in my car" she instructed and Elena fell quiet. She hesitated for a second, but after taking in the expression on her face and knew it was best not to argue. Obediently, she walked to Y/n's car and sat in the passenger seat. She could see Y/n's phone and so rang Damon, warning him that Stefan may turn up bloody and bruised and also crying down the phone over what happened.

She tried her best not to look up when she could hear the muffled yelling and fighting from in from outside.

Y/n had Stefan on his knees, bleeding from the head and stomach, a hand of his 'hero' hair in her grip as she dragged his face up and leant down "Give Klaus those fucking coffins back or I swear to fuck that I will help him destroy you" she threatened but he shook his head with laboured breathing.

"I won't let him win" he panted and she smacked him across the face making his head whip to the side before back to her

"how blind are you Stefan? If this is how you're behaving then he's already won." she whispered, holding his chin tightly. She scoffed lightly when he wouldn't look and her "you're fucking pathetic" she told him. "If you think for one moment that I'm going to let you petrify Elena, torture everyone around you just for some stupid revenge fantasy-"

"He ruined my life, Y/n! He's already destroyed me and I want to watch him hurt" he growled

"why?" she questioned, knowingly

"Because I'm fucking angry Y/n!" he stated and a small smile quirked at her lips. She could work with Stefan if he felt something, his humanity was trying to come back.

"Then you care too" she whispered "you're just not letting yourself feel everything"

"I can't Y/n" he uttered, his eyes watering "If i let myself feel everything- everything I've done...I can't survive that"

"You deserve to feel the pain Stefan. Look around...you need to feel the hurt so that you can move past it." she told him and he looked down. "I give you until tomorrow night to give in before I'm forced to handle this my way" she muttered before placing her hands at his jaw and snapping his neck to the side.

She got into the car and drove Elena and herself to Caroline's. Klaus was just coming out of her house making Elena lower in her seat while Y/n got out the car.

Klaus glanced her up and down, noting the blood she had splattered all over her clothes and the teary doppelgänger in the car. "Caroline's been healed" he told her calmly, keeping his distance.

"I'll be changing the ownership of that house so you can't get in" she warned and he chuckled, watching as she grabbed a white birthday bag from her boot and walking towards Carolines.

He watched her for a moment as she opened the front door, he listened as she gave Caroline a hug and her birthday present before leaving shortly with the promise of seeing her tomorrow. His eyes locked back on hers as soon as she stepped outside

"what?" she barked and he smirked

"nothing, nothing" he claimed and she sighed "I was just wondering whose blood-"

"Stefan's but don't worry, I didn't kill your boyfriend" she mumbled, heading back to her car

"He's not- oh for gods sake" he muttered, following her "Where is he?"

"Hopefully thinking his time over" she opened her door and looked at him once more "You should have you coffins within 48 hours, if you don't...come find me" she told him for sitting down and closing her door. He watched in interest as she pulled out of the drive and Elena began to whisper to her.

Once they got home Y/n told Elena of her and Stefan's conversation and how she hoped that this would bring the Stefan they knew back. Elena looked at Y/n with a soft look

"You think...he could be something less than a monster?" she asked quietly and Y/n swallowed thickly.

"I think...I think he doesn't want to be a monster" she whispered "I- he wasn't always a monster...so maybe he could...I don't know, like, be better?" she mumbled, confused with the situation herself. "But that doesn't mean I like him, or that you should ever feel like you have to forgive him." she told her and Elena nodded.

"I don't think I can... not for a while" she whispered and Y/n nodded

"That's probably a good thing" she smiled weakly and the two sat for a moment before disappearing to their own rooms in an attempt to get over this day.

Thankfully, with an extra shove from Damon, Stefan came to and agreed to make a truce with Klaus. So they decided to give all the coffins back, however before leaving them in Klaus's living room, they undaggered every last Mikaelson. Except of course, the one which was closed but Y/n had witches on the phone to figure out how to open it already.

It took the help of a lot of Bennet witches, dead and alive, they even had to locate Bonnies mother. Surprisingly there was no sight of Klaus or his family for the few days it took them of draining the coffins magic until they were sure that the seal was broken. Y/n had firm words with Abby and made sure to comfort Bonnie as well as she knew how to.

And then they waited.

Unbeknownst to them, the Mikaelson house was practically a war zone. Klaus had been enduring a series of well deserved torture from each of his siblings, screaming empty threats and promises at them until they temporarily killed him in some of the most painful ways they knew how to shut him up.

Until each of them was silence by the mere presence of their supposed-to-be-dead mother. She claimed the house as her own in a matter of seconds and had her children on a tight leash.

They cleaned up and hid in their rooms, confused, afraid and somewhat hopeful.

Another day went by before Esther decided they needed something special to celebrate their reunion, a ball. She also demanded that they try to find dates. Niklaus especially.

Esther was a clever women, a crafty bitch of a witch. Over her last few years of being on the other side she had kept an eye on Y/n. She had spotted her, seen her potential and invested herself into it. Esther had also happened to see the homecoming, she knew that her son's interest had been captured. She knew how easily Klaus would soften just from a girl being kind to him for a few moments. Whether he liked it or not, Y/n had now taken a place in his mind. Esther also believed that despite Y/n somewhat befriending a couple vampires that her hatred would outweigh any bond she seemingly built and that if she could get her to the ball and spoke to her then she would be of even more use.

And, as expected, Klaus went to the Gilberts house. He had an invitation in one hand and a beautiful ballgown wrapped up in the other. For some reason he had a weird feeling in his stomach and his head ached. He gave a few hesitant knocks to the door and stepped back. He took a breath, fully prepared to be hit and told to fuck off and die.

He did not expect a half asleep Y/n to open the door, her eyes squinted to block the sun, her hair big and fluffy and her face bare of any makeup. Her brows scrunched together when she saw Klaus and she cleared her throat

"Yes?" she asked, trying to sound more assertive but the oversized jumper and sleepy eyes made it far too difficult to take her seriously. He could feel his face twitch to a smile but he tilted his head down to hide it. He shook his head subtly to himself before looking ack to her eyes and opening his mouth to get some words out. Instead, he just ended up staring at her, unable to form the sentence he wanted making her wipe her eyes and wake up more to pay attention.

Her eyes dropped to the gifts in his hands and his awkward, nervous behaviour. "Oh dear" she muttered and his face flushed, was she going to say no before he even asked? With a sigh and an eye roll she reached her hands out and took both items from him, placing the box inside by the door and tearing the envelope over. Klaus watched with wide eyes as she read both the formal invitation and Klaus's personal message where he asked her for a dance. She doubled checked that times before glancing up at him.

"See you at seven" she whispered with a nod before closing the door. He stood there for another minute before turning around and heading home, unsure on what he was supposed to do now.

Meanwhile Y/n walked into the kitchen where the Salvatores, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie and Matt all sat looking to her expectantly. She held up her invitation and in return they each held up theirs.

"Alright so, just so we're all on the same level-" Caroline began, leaning forward in her seat "some guy named Kol has invited me, Elijah invited Bonnie, Rebekah wants Matt and now Klaus has asked Y/n!?" her voice progressively grew louder and higher. Damon and Stefan sighed before Elena spoke

"Yeah.. and uh... Esther, their mother, wants to speak to me...privately" she mumbled and everyone went quiet for a second.

"So do we...go?" Bonnie asked and they all murmured quietly.

"I mean...free drinks and possibly food? Do they do food at dances or do I have to eat before I go?" Y/n asked tiredly and Caroline shook her head

"No no, you'll look bloated if you eat beforehand" She muttered and Damon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right" Y/n whispered.

"Screw it, we should go" Elena decided and reluctantly everyone came to an agreement.

The girls would all go to Caroline's to get ready and meet the guys there.

Once they had done each others hair and makeup, made sure they all felt right and ready. They all stayed in Bonnie's car for a little while outside of the Mikaelson mansion

"Something bad is going down tonight" Y/n murmured and Elena sighed.

"We have to face it" she whispered

"Or we get shit faced and forget whatever goes down?" Y/n offered and Bonnie giggled while Caroline placed her hand over her face before opening the door

"come on, lets get" she called and they groaned as they piled out and maid their way inside.

Y/n let them filter out to the Salvatores and their dates while she swiftly weaved her way toward the sweet scent of alcohol. For once she didn't sense Klaus watching her as she downed four flutes of champagne in the space of 60 seconds, letting it rush straight to her head and smiling to herself.

With a quiet chuckle Klaus made his way over, standing just behind her and to her side as he cleared his throat "Y/n?" he called and she whipped round

"Klaus" she greeted and he smirked

"Enjoying the beverages?" he teased lightly

"Uh honestly no, it's rather disgusting but if you drink it fast enough then you don't really taste it" she grinned and he raised a brow

"Well...that's not what I was expecting...then again you've been very unpredictable today...are you feeling alright, love?" He whispered the last bit as though it were a serious matter and she rolled her eyes once more.

"Well everyone else got an invite, I was glad not to be the only one" she told him and he hummed

"I see" he stated, looking her over for a moment before taking a breath and smiling "you look stunning, sweetheart" he complimented and she glanced away from his gaze.

Y/n wasn't the relationship type. She wasn't ever really given compliments, she was rude to most people especially supernaturals and lets face it they covered half the town. The occasions she did attract attention it was because she 'looked hot' or 'sexy' which only pissed her off more and made her avoid any kind of revealing or tight clothes when since the 9th grade. So she didn't really think Klaus meant anything by those words, and she didn't want him or anyone to say things like that if it didn't mean anything.

So she looked past him and ignored the compliment, instead glancing around to spot everyone. "So do you have to like announce the dances or do you just go whenever?" she asked and he tilted his head

"I thought this town had dances all the time, you've never been to one?" he questioned, and she shook her head

"Elena dressed up and did the dances with mom. I went to Aug- I went hunting with dad" she answered and he nodded

"Hunting..." he trailed despite knowing the answer

"Vampires"

"Vampires" he repeated. "When exactly did you start hunting vampires?" he asked curiously and she shrugged.

"I don't really know...I was maybe six or something like that when I saw one and it soon after my dad was filling my head with knowledge on them" she explained and he frowned a little but before he could comment Esther was tapping her glass and encouraging her children to come together so should properly announce the occasion.

Esther switched her gaze between the Gilbert sisters and the Bennet witch. She couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement, everything was going her way. So she stood proudly for a moment as she watched her children dance what she assumed to be their last nights away.

Klaus gently placed his hand on her waist, watching her shift and take a breath before taking his hand. She didn't like to touch him, he could tell by the look in her eyes but she didn't push him away, she still put her hands on him with no intention of harm and that was enough to make Klaus smile.

Y/n tried to forget that he was a psychotic thousand year old vampire/werewolf hybrid just for a moment but it was more difficult this time. The music was slow, unlike the homecoming, and there was a specific routine which she was already struggling to follow which meant he couldn't decide to start spinning her around unless she wanted even more eyes on her and he knew for a fact that she didn't. Klaus could feel how tense she was, her eyes never landed on him and when he tried to compliment her she only looked more uncomfortable.

He sighed to himself and watched her for a short moment. She truly did look elegant that night, like a princess. The dress fit her like a glove and for once he was able to see the soft curves of her body though he knew not to comment on that. He wasn't really sure if he was allowed to comment on anything. She was gorgeous, the makeup on her face only emphasised the features he had already liked on her, like her eyes and her lips. But at the same time he wanted to see her like he did early that day again, when she was drowsy and messy. He liked that she didn't cover up every tiny little mark on her skin or feel that she had to sit and style her hair each morning, though he was still fond of how it had been done for this evening. He had so much he was thinking but he couldn't find a way to say any of it to her. Not when she looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here.

Reluctantly he tried to catch her eye "Love?" he whispered and she glanced to him "can I show you something?" he asked and she nodded, anything would be better than pretending to enjoy any part of that.

So he guided her upstairs, to his art room. She was skeptical but he expected her to be as such. Still, he took her inside and let her look around. His eyes followed her, waiting to see if her expression or body language would give away any of her thoughts or opinions.

Curiously she dug through his sketches, seemingly looking for something specific. He came beside her and placed his hand on top of hers "What are you searching for?" he asked quietly and she looked up at him for a moment. He tilted his head and gave a gentle smile to try and show he bared no harm and she hesitantly told him

"The sun and moon curse...you made drawings right? On scrolls and stuff?" she questioned and he smiled

"I did yes" he confirmed and took her had without thinking, bringing her to his room where he then let her go and began digging under his bed making her laugh. He remerged a moment later with a box, he tossed the lid onto his bed and pulled out a bunch of old, tattered pieces of paper. He flipped through them before bringing a few over to her, letting her hold them and study them with genuine interest. He explained what different parts meant and found himself with a hand on her shoulder as he pointed to different sections.

"Just to be a hybrid?" she questioned and he shook his head

"I don't care that I'm half and half, if anything it's only made things more difficult. I just wanted to feel whole." he told her, glancing to find her fully turned to him and listening making him sit down on the edge of his bed and her to follow suit, much to his surprise, before he continued. "When my mother suppressed my werewolf side, it quite literally felt like part of me was locked deep inside me and begging to be set free. I walked this earth for a thousand years, never feeling quite like myself...though I suppose I don't really know who I am anymore. In some ways your mindset is correct, vampirism changes a person. But it was not vampirism that made me a monster... it was my mother and my...and Mikael. I'm sure you know of plenty humans that you and the rest of the world would consider a beast. If they lived as long as I have, even without the urge to drink blood, they would become a horrible creature no matter their species."

She contemplated his words for some time in silence and he let her. She knew he was right. Anyone would go mad if they had been though the masses that he had and had to keep going that that amount of time. Y/n didn't like that there were so many different ways to think about things. She wished that it was as simple as 'all vampires are evil' but it would never be that way.

She looked at him for a minute or so, it was so odd how someone so vicious could look like an angel. She always told herself it was a disguise but really it was proof of who they used to be. Their eyes especially, they held so much. Especially his, she could see the pain and the sadness, the anger and the betrayal, fear and paranoia, but she could also see that little flicker of warmth. Part of her wished that she could go back and never of left her fathers office, she shouldn't have gone near those vampires. She wished she could help Klaus relight that little spark inside him but she just didn't think she could. Her hatred was deep rooted, she had been and secretly still did torture and experiment on vampires. She had been stealing blood samples from her supernatural friends and giving it to Augustine. For years Y/n assumed that she was doing the right thing, protecting her own, but now she worried that she had been behaving almost as badly as the vampires themselves.

She hesitated slightly but Klaus still saw it, he could see a lot going on in her head and let it settle before speaking again.

"You can keep the aztec sketches" he told her and she blinked at him

"Oh- no that's okay" she smiled and handed them back to him but he pulled his hands away

"I don't know why you wanted to see them but I'm glad that you did and that you spoke to me...listened and what have you. I didn't really think you would come tonight and so I want you to have them as a thank you of sorts?" he told her and she smiled softly

"Can I ask...why would you want me to be here tonight? I mean you have a lot of options, less complicated ones. I don't know what you thought tonight would become but surely you didn't think that anything more could become of this right?" she asked and he shrugged softly

"Maybe one day" he offered but she shook her head

"I will never be a vampire" she reminds "and I don't think I could ever truly have feelings for a vampire and even if I did, what would be the point if I just grew old and you didn't?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon sweetheart" he whispered.

They both sat quietly for a moment before a thud and a crack could be heard. They both let out a huff before Y/n groaned "Fucking Salvatores"

Klaus let out a laugh and stood up, offering a hand to Y/n and pulling her up "I'm certain a Mikaelson will have involvement too" he smiled and she tutted

"Oh what ever will we do" she whispered as they made their way back downstairs, finding Kol on the floor and Damon standing over him. She gave Klaus a look to which he smiled knowingly as she followed Damon to his car, before turning to deal with his own family.

They were both to busy to realise the glare that Esther had on her face. She had only heard the last few exchanges of their conversation and then that look at each other. She expected Klaus to fall fast but Y/n was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to help kill Klaus. Still, Esther held onto a small amount of hope that Y/n wasn't completely taken yet and would at least stay out of the way when she eliminated the vampire race.

That night everyone seemed to go to sleep with a bucket load full of thoughts swimming around their minds. Some more dreamy and others leaning more towards nightmares. It was unknown which ones would come true.

(There shall be a part 3, I just didn’t want it to be a drag to read all in one go)

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bonebabbles · 1 year ago

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Slash's Famous Scene

Here we are, lads. Everyone's favorite scene in the totally best arc of WC. The one where Slash pins a pregnant woman to the ground and licks her face, while threatening her fetuses and cutting her cheek open so Clear Sky can have more man pain.

So far I've been using "fridging" as synonymous with the brutal killing of a female character to advance a male character's arc; but I do want to remind everyone that the term "fridging" describes disproportionate violence done to women in the service of their husband/brother/father/son's arcs. It doesn't HAVE to be death; it can also be battery, maiming, depowering, or sexual assault.

So far, 8 women have died to serve male arcs, most of them for Clear Sky specifically. Fluttering Bird, Bright Stream, Storm, Misty, Bumble, Turtle Tail, Rainswept Flower, and Petal. Now Star Flower gets sexually harassed and kidnapped, bringing the arc's fridge total to 9.

Anyway content warning, obviously. It's still Warrior Cats and doesn't get too graphic, but this bag contains a dead dove.

First, Clear Sky gets another toesucking from the ghost of his wife who died after leaving his controlling ass. Specifically, after he threw his disabled brother out of his Clan, and after his lust for seeing random people (including his brother) get mauled at the border resulted in the death of Fox.

She tells him that his behavior never drove anyone away, it was all totally not his fault. I'm waiting for a laugh track and it never comes. The apologetics in this arc are unrivaled.

Then, Clear Sky wakes up and his pregnant wife is not next to him. So he goes looking for her and sees her being flanked by Slash and his memorable minions, Grunt 1 and Grunt 2. Star Flower is so possessed by fear that she doesn't move.

They REALLY need to sell that Slash is TRUE evil, PURE evil, because of the wet fart that is Clear Sky's redemption arc. They're saying that Clear Sky ISN'T bad, because he is not this. A dirty, sadistic monster who coos evilly about how he's going to hurt the kittens in his wife's belly and cruelly twitches his whiskers.

(as a petty side detail, please also note that this passage cannot even keep Slash's fur color straight. Behold, a cat so evil that he cannot even remain a brown tabby! He turns gray when he commits nefarious deeds! Ashfurification included!)

Star Flower is the one being pinned to the ground and having her face cut open as Slash screams about how she promised her father she'd be his mate, but this scene is about Clear Sky's distress. Star Flower is an object to this narrative, which these two men are in conflict over.

The pinning, the violence, the sexual implications, are being done to make Slash as monstrous as possible to contrast to Clear Sky. Slash doesn't kill anyone, so the narrative needs to make you SO UPSET your emotions are thrown into overdrive, so you'll accept how truly terrible he is.

The simple truth that this rancid book is trying to make you ignore, is that Clear Sky is exponentially more deadly. He has caused harm so unspeakable that they have to describe his bloody murders in passive voice. They "died" now, instead of "were killed," and the violent system he created is presented as "making up" for the trauma he's caused to the survivors.

"Pushing his muzzle close to her injured cheek, he licked the blood from her fur with a long, lingering lap."

Think critically about the characters they are presenting and the actions they make them do. None of these are real people. They are writing choices. They have portrayed Slash as a perverted, domineering, child-abusing savage, so Clear Sky the Settler can look good in comparison.

then Star Flower gets dragged off, kicking and struggling, feeble and completely unable to defend herself as clear sky thinks about how she might die along with his fetuses.

Obviously Clear Sky is so very stressed out by all this and needs to blow off some steam, so he smacks the nearest woman and starts screeching about how Star Flower is more loyal than the son he abuses

The first thing he does after the Slash event was physically assault the nearest woman. I can't... I don't have the words. Are you seeing this. Do you see what I am fucking dealing with. literally the first woman he sees.

"DOES THAT FEEL LIKE AN ACT??" He bellowed like a fucking wifebeater at the girl whose face is bleeding because he cut her in a fit of rage. That's fine as long as you don't lustfully lick it afterwards I guess!!!

#dotc hate #bones reads dotc #Slash dotc #this arc is going to END me #ill also get into how slash's description of events is a lie #but the fact he is a liar and pulling a bluff is a plot point later #Starf is around the same age as Thunder based on her order of events and Clear describes her as 'young'#Starf also does not lie. They talk about 'manipulation' and 'betrayal' but no. she's very honest #the only misleading she ever does is through vagueness like when thunder asks her 'do you know one eye'#and she says 'yes' but doesn't elaborate #a woman will have absolutely no choice in her actions and do nothing wrong by telling her dad about an assassination attempt #and the writers will put that on the same level as a man who beats kids and kills women and commits war crimes

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itsjuststardust · 1 month ago

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Heaven in Hiding - Chapter 25: Don't Look Back

Heaven in Hiding Masterlist

Word Count: 23,820

Author's Note/Chapter Warnings: Oh, dear readers... We have reached the conclusion of 'Act II' of Heaven in Hiding. I will save most of my thoughts and feelings for the end of the chapter, but I have a couple of things to warn you about. First, I hope you like long chapters because this one officially takes the crown for the longest chapter (thus far) at 23.5k words (sorry, not sorry). So, make yourself comfortable, put your feet up, and play your favorite sad girl music. Second, this chapter follows the last half of Ch. 7: The Reckoning and Ch. 8: Redemption. I borrowed some of the dialogue from the show for this chapter, but I have changed some to fit with my story. Lastly, there is some sciencey stuff in here that I have taken creative liberties with. Just go with it. That's all I have without spoiling the chapter, but if you need to read chapter warnings, please jump to the A/N at the end of the chapter so you can prepare yourself. MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY 🎵Chapter Soundtrack🎵 “Francesca” - Hozier Without further ado... may I present the 🐍🐍 Act II 🐍🐍 finale of Heaven in Hiding - "Don't Look Back"

Chapter 25: Don't Look Back

“Alaina!” he called after the blur of green velvet that stomped past him.

“Trouble in paradise?” Karga asked, keeping his watchful gaze on Alaina as she headed toward the lava river.

Din growled and stormed after her, knocking Karga’s shoulder a little more forcefully than he intended as he passed by his former guild leader. When he made it to that beautiful pain in his ass, he was going to remind her about her promise not to do anything rash, like stomping off away from the safety of the campsite. Especially when they knew the odds were stacked against them.

A shock of white came up over the hill, standing in sharp contrast to the surrounding black and lava-cracked landscape. Din froze at the sight of the weasel-eyed doctor as he walked towards Alaina, who was so lost in thought she didn’t even realize her former friend was approaching her.

“Oof,” Alaina grumbled when she smacked straight into Pershing. “I’m sorry—” she cut her apology off when she realized who it was she just ran into.

“Hello, Lainey.”

Din stood a short distance away, watching Alaina closely as she stared in shock at the man before her. He was still close enough to intervene if needed, but he decided that it was best that the two had their emotional reintroductions in private.

A guttural cry he’d never heard from another living being before left Alaina’s mouth, startling both men. Pershing’s face turned to one of shock as his former friend launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground.

So much for introductions. "Kriff,” Din muttered as he ran to the two scuffling on the ground.

“I hate you!” Alaina screeched and wound her arm back before clocking the doctor smack in the middle of his face.

A small swell of pride formed in his chest. At least her form was improving, Din noted with a cringe as she went in for another punch.

“Alright, alright,” Din grumbled, grabbing Alaina around her waist to pull her off the doctor. Alaina thrashed in arms, clawing and kicking to get back to Pershing, who was now holding his bloodied nose as he attempted to crawl away from his petite attacker.

“Tranyc,” he murmured, holding her tightly against his chest until he felt her relax. “You can’t kill him. Yet,” he added when she growled.

“Fine,” she huffed, and he set her down on the ground once he was convinced Alaina wouldn’t immediately charge at Pershing again.

Din returned his attention to the doctor who was examining the blood on his hand left over from his bloodied nose.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Pershing muttered, looking up from his hand to stare at Alaina, who let out a low growl. Din held his arm out, preventing her from attacking the doctor again. “I see you were still traveling with the Mandalorian,” he commented with a tight smile before turning his attention to the Mandalorian. “Thank you for returning her. Again.”

Din cocked his helmet at the doctor’s words. Returning her? He crossed the distance between them in three strides, taking special pleasure in the terror in the man’s eyes. When he reached the white coat, Din’s elbow reared back before delivering a quick snap to the man’s face. Pershing fell to the ground, groaning as he held his face in his hands. If his nose wasn’t broken before, it was broken now.

Din turned back to Alaina, who was giving him a bright smile. “One quick jab to the face, right?” he asked, grinning when Alaina giggled. “Although your form is getting better,” he complimented with a nod.

Alaina’s eyes sparkled, refracting the light from the lava river as she said, “Thank you!”

When he returned to Alaina, he grabbed her right hand to inspect it for damage. Her knuckle only had one minor cut, but it wasn’t too bad overall. “You let your elbow drop,” he said, balling her fist back up and using his other hand. He lifted her elbow to put her in the correct form. “Just because you continue to punch someone doesn’t mean you get sloppy.”

“Well, I was just surprised when I hit him, and my hand didn’t immediately shatter,” she said, grinning at his helmet. “It’s easier to punch someone in the face when they don’t have a beskar helmet.”

He hummed and nodded, letting go of Alaina’s hand to return his attention to why they were there.

Pershing had managed to make it back to his feet and had dried blood caked under his nose and some splattered across his uniform, but it was the way he was looking between the two of them as if they were some puzzle he had yet to solve. Some deeply buried feeling of protector surged through him, and Din had to restrain himself from putting an arm around Alaina’s waist to draw her to him so that he could rub it in the other man’s face that Alaina was his.

“Now that the two of you have been reacquainted, you said you had a solution?” Din asked, prompting the doctor.

Pershing jumped at his words and shook his head, returning to the problem at hand. “Um, yes,” he nodded and reached behind him to dig through a canvas backpack until he retrieved a datapad. The man’s face faltered when he turned to look back at Alaina. “Lainey, I just want you to know I never intended it to be like this.” Alaina scoffed. “I didn’t! If I would have known—”

“Penn, you sent a bounty hunter after me! You used me as a science experiment for five years!” Alaina’s reprimand slowly crescendoed to a scream. “You tortured me! You locked me away until I went crazy! Even when I started having seizures, you still didn’t stop! So don’t give me the if I would have known bullshit!”

“I’m sorry! He was breathing down my neck for results! I thought I was close!” Pershing pleaded. “Lainey, you know I would never—”

“I don’t! I don’t know you!” Alaina seethed. “I thought I did, but obviously, I was wrong about you!”

Din gripped Alaina’s arm to stop her from continuing and to give her a small show of support before turning his attention back to Pershing. “Arguing about the past is going to get us nowhere,” he started, letting go of Alaina’s arm. “You agreed to meet because you wanted to make it right. How do you plan on fixing her?”

Pershing’s eyes looked between him and Alaina. “I’m sorry. I know you brought her back here, but why do you care?” he asked, trying to work out the puzzle before him.

His blaster was in his hand instantly, directed at the doctor’s head. Pershing’s hands shot up, with his datapad still in his right hand.

Alaina’s hand came to rest on his forearm, encouraging him to lower his blaster. “Just answer the question, Penn,” she said, sounding exhausted from arguing already.

As Din lowered his blaster, Pershing’s hands dropped. “Maybe we should go talk. In private,” he suggested.

At his comment, his blaster rose, forcing a sigh from Alaina. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of Mando,” she told Pershing as she gripped his forearm again until he lowered the blaster again.

“But—”

“No buts,” Alaina stopped him. “If you can’t say what you came here to say in front of an audience, then we’re leaving,” she announced, making Din bristle. “And if you think that Mando here is going to let you out of his sight, you are mistaken,” she informed him with a shake of her head. “We don’t trust you,” she ground out bitterly.

“Okay,” Pershing agreed quickly. “Okay. Maybe we could go closer to the fire,” he suggested, nodding to where the others had set up camp nearby. “It’s not safe out here at night.”

Din nodded and motioned toward the campsite. Pershing nodded and walked with them the short distance to the fire. “How long do you have before they notice you’re missing?” he asked the doctor.

“My supervisor at the compound in the city thinks I headed out to the main lab in the lava flats early, but the lab doesn’t think I’m coming until the morning. They won’t come looking for me until late in the morning,” Pershing told them. “It’s not a lot of time, but it’s enough to do a couple of tests on Lainey—”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Alaina snapped.

A flash of pain came over the doctor’s face, but he recovered quickly. “As I was saying, it’s not a lot of time, but it’s enough to do a couple of tests on Alaina and compare it to the previous data I have.”

“And then?” Alaina prodded with a glare.

“I need to start with the tests first. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions without all the data,” Pershing answered, keeping his head directed down at the lava-cracked ground, avoiding eye contact with his former friend.

Alaina scoffed, “Like you jumped to the conclusion that I’m dying?”

Pershing sighed. "Lai—Alaina, I didn’t lie to get you here." When they reached the fire, he stopped to return his attention to Alaina. “Please believe me. Let me proceed with the scans. Then we can talk more once I have more data.”

Alaina nibbled nervously on her bottom lip before turning to look up at his helmet. Din cocked his head, wanting her to come to the same conclusion that he had—they’d come all this way for answers; they weren’t going to leave now without some. It would be easier for her to reach that conclusion independently than for Din to force her to participate. Alaina could be stubborn when she wanted to be, and it wouldn’t do them any good to waste what precious time they had arguing.

“Okay,” she nodded, and Din placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back when she gave him a tight, nervous smile.

“O-Okay,” Penn stuttered as he watched Din’s simple contact with a concerned face. “Let’s—Uh—Let’s find a spot where we can get comfortable,” he suggested, nodding to the large lava rock Karga was already propped up against.

Din gave her a gentle push to get her moving. One eye was on Alaina and the doctor, but he kept an alert eye on the others—Karga was giving orders to the other two he’d come with to go hunt something for dinner. Dune was walking the perimeter with her borrowed rifle like the soldier she was. Kuiil was with Grogu, pulling the kid’s new floating pram around their blurrg while he listened to the kid babble.

“The Child is still with you,” Pershing commented as they reached the lava rock.

Alaina picked the opposite end of the rock from Karga to sit down. “Why wouldn’t he be?” she asked as she made herself comfortable with her back propped up against the wall.

“I—I don’t know,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Of course, I would have thought you’d have parted ways with the Mandalorian, but that doesn’t appear to be the case,” Pershing answered, unable to tear away from the kid. “You were never one for, what did you call them? Meatheads?”

Din looked to Alaina with a cock of his helmet at the comment, earning him a snicker from the blonde.

“Yeah, well, this meathead isn’t so bad,” she admitted to the weasel, giving Din a playful kick to his boot.

When the doctor looked at Din with watchful eyes, Din glowered back at the man, refusing to back down. “Don’t you need to get started?” Din prompted with a growl.

“Right,” Pershing nodded and moved to sit opposite of Alaina.

With one last look around the campsite to ensure that everything was okay for now, Din sat next to Alaina while Pershing dug through the pack of supplies he had brought.

If the doctor was surprised that the Mandalorian was sitting beside his friend, he didn’t show it. Pershing placed four monitoring devices along Alaina’s forehead, each with tiny wires attached to white stickers that all returned to the doctor’s datapad.

When the doctor pulled out two more monitoring stickers, Alaina took them from him so she could reach through the top of her shirt to stick one on either side of her chest. “I’ve done this before,” she reminded the weasel.

“Right,” Pershing replied softly. “Then we will go in the normal order,” he said, making Alaina scoff. “I need to be able to compare results as accurately as possible—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alaina grumbled. “Meditation first?” she asked, to which the doctor nodded. Alaina turned her green eyes to his helmet and gave him a soft smile. “There are three tests in total. He’s going to monitor me for thirty minutes at a time while I do different things. Meditating is first,” she explained.

Din nodded, “Let me know if you need anything.”

Alaina reached for his hand and gripped his glove tightly. “Just be here,” she whispered.

Din gripped her hand back, and the two shared their look for one last brief moment before Alaina gave him a subtle nod. He kept his helmet directed at her, waiting for the first inclination for something to go wrong. Alaina’s eyes closed as she rested her head against the lava rock as she… meditated, he supposed.

As the minutes ticked on, Din’s eyes slid to Pershing but caught that he wasn’t studying the datapad like he would have thought. Instead, the doctor’s eyes were locked on Alaina and Din’s intertwined hands.

Din cocked his helmet at the doctor, making him flinch when he realized that he’d been caught. Pershing’s cheeks tinged red, and he returned to focusing on the datapad to analyze whatever information he was getting.

Din’s teeth ground together at the weasel, but Mando refused to take his eyes off the other man. They hadn’t come all this way for the man to get distracted by his feelings. His alleged best friend’s life was literally in his hands. If there was a time to focus—it was now.

The countdown inside his helmet ticked off, and Din felt the minutes drag by. Alaina was meditating while Pershing was focused on whatever data he was receiving on his end. It wasn’t until almost twenty minutes later that Din noticed Pershing’s lips frown slightly and his brows knit together at whatever he saw on the screen.

“What?” Mando asked, startling the doctor.

“Vermilion fingertips.”

Din’s helmet snapped back to Alaina at her whispered words. Her eyes were open now, but the unsettling, vacant eyes of a vision replaced her normally expressive emerald ones. More alarming was the slow stream of blood coming from each nostril.

“Alaina!” Din called, squeezing the limp hand in his glove.

“Wait!” Pershing whispered, holding a hand out to stop him. “This is good,” he told him excitedly. “This is good. Don’t try to interfere.”

“He’s coming,” Alaina whispered, and then her words dissolved into a fit of unnerving laughter. “He’s coming to take the sunlight away and rip it apart limb by limb,” the ramblings continued.

Din looked at Pershing, but he looked just as confused as he did. He remembered that vision. It was the first vision she’d had in front of him in the woods of Sorgan. He hadn’t thought much of it until her next vision on their last day in the village and then had assumed she was warning them about the hunter lurking in the woods.

“Don’t trust the moon. She’s always changing,” she giggled, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Pershing…” he growled, but the man waved his hand to silence him.

“Vermilion fingertips walk the end of the road,” she continued, and then her head slowly turned to stare down his helmet, somehow still able to find his eyes under his helmet. Her hand moved, and Din released it from his grip, allowing her to move it freely. Alaina’s now free hand rose until it found the transparisteel ‘T’ of his visor and let her index finger trace along the glass. “Remember, the foundation survived,” she whispered.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as Alaina’s finger slid off his helmet, and he waited for the vacant look to leave.

The few times he’d witnessed one of her visions, they had ended one of two ways: disorientation or unconsciousness.

But nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

Din watched helplessly as her green eyes rolled back into her head, and her petite body went rigid.

“Hold her down!” Pershing ordered moments before Alaina’s entire body collapsed, and she began convulsing. “Hold her down! On her side!”

His heart pounded against the beskar plating outside of it. His surroundings faded away to the point where the only thing he could see or feel was Alaina. His gloves fumbled as he tried to contain her body as it thrashed under him. He felt utterly helpless as foam began leaking from her mouth, turning red as it came into contact with the blood from her nose.

“What’s happening?!” he barked at the doctor, who was drawing something up in a syringe.

“Seizure,” he supplied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Pershing took the syringe and instructed Mando how to hold her arm so he could find a vein.

The two worked in tandem, and by the end of the injection, the convulsions slowly came to a stop until the body he had pinned to the ground went limp in his hands.

“What did you do to her?!” Din demanded as he attempted to make Alaina comfortable.

“I didn’t do anything!” Pershing defended. “She had a premonition—Wait,” he paused, and his expression changed to one of curiosity, “has she not had any seizures since she’s been with you?”

Din shook his head. He would have remembered something as terrifying as that.

“Interesting,” was all Pershing commented before he buried his nose in his datapad.

“What happens now?” Din asked, stroking Alaina’s hair back off her forehead, and took the corner of his cloak to try and clean Alaina’s face up the best he could.

“I gave her an anticonvulsant. She’ll be unconscious for a while,” Pershing mumbled.

“What about your tests? Alaina said there were three.”

“I’ll continue to monitor her scans while she is unconscious,” Pershing told him while he rummaged through his pack to pull out another datapad. “Catching a premonition is better than I could have hoped for. It will give me a better understanding of her neuropathways now compared to her last scans. There used to be four tests, but since she lost her telekinetic abilities, it’s harder to prompt a premonition out of her.”

Din frowned, “Telekinetic?”

“She used to be able to move objects,” Pershing explained, pausing his studies of the datapad to glance at Alaina.

“Until you went meddling in her mind,” Din accused, fixing the doctor with a knowing tilt of his helmet.

Pershing’s eyes slid from Alaina to his helmet, “It wasn’t intentional.”

Din scooted closer to Alaina, shifting her to rest between his legs and her head on his lap. “She was able to move something a few weeks ago,” he told the doctor as he stroked Alaina’s hair.

Pershing’s eyes went wide, “She did?” Din nodded, and the doctor excitedly scrambled a little closer to them. “Wh-what happened? Was it intentional or accidental? You said a few weeks ago, has she tried again since?”

“She was working with the kid,” Din started, trying to remember the last afternoon on their moon. “She was giving him lessons to work on his powers, and I think trying to see what she was still capable of,” he continued, looking down at the unconscious blonde in his lap. “They were meditating, and she was trying to get the kid to float a rock. I was sitting with them, and the rock suddenly began to lift off the ground. I looked, and the kid was smiling at Alaina, but Alaina was doing it.”

“So the ability wasn’t lost forever,” Pershing muttered, smiling at Alaina. “What happened next?”

Din sighed. “The whole thing lasted a minute tops. And then… it was like something snapped inside of her. She started screaming and clutching her head. Her nose was bleeding. She said it felt like it was burning her, and whatever happened, it was. She ran a fever and went in and out of consciousness for hours. Once her fever broke, she was able to get some real rest, but…” he tapered off as his chest clenched remembering back on the event. How could he have missed her slipping away in his arms?

“But?” Pershing prompted him eagerly.

“But I don’t think she ever fully recovered,” he finished. “She complained about headaches off and on, and she’s looked drained since. I thought it was getting better. I wanted to believe it was getting better… and then we got your message,” he finished, directing his helmet at the doctor.

Din watched the doctor’s face change from open excitement to a more closed-off, disappointed look.

“You weren’t lying in that message, were you?” Din asked, keeping his helmet on Pershing. “She’s dying, isn’t she?”

Pershing’s eyes looked up from Alaina’s prone form to his helmet, and the pained look the doctor gave him was the only confirmation Din needed.

“Why?” Din asked, clutching Alaina tighter.

Pershing’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I’m not sure the exact reason why,” he admitted. The doctor’s lips flattened, and he shifted to pass Din the datapad that wasn’t connected to Alaina. “Those are her brain scans when we first began our trials. Before she lost her original powers,” he explained.

Din took the datapad from Alaina in one hand while keeping the other on Alaina. He frowned at the intricate web of yellow lines staring back at him. “What am I looking at?”

“Her neuropathways,” Pershing informed him. “Her neuropathways before she lost her original powers. It’s only one of at least ten other tests I performed regularly. My original hypothesis was that her powers were located in a specific area of her brain, and I thought if I could track down their location, I could figure out how to activate other powers.”

“Original hypothesis? So, you were wrong?”

Pershing nodded. “But I continued to monitor them because you never know what information will make or break an experiment.”

Din looked down at the web of yellow neuropathways that made Alaina—Alaina. They were bright and golden like the sunlight.

“After you kidnapped Alaina and the Child,” Pershing continued with a glare over the top of his glasses, “the Moff insisted that we jump straight to trials. I had five years of data on Alaina, and we had the Child’s blood,” he told him. “I had three different test groups, each with three volunteers,” Pershing stopped, and Din looked up from the datapad when he didn’t continue. The man’s face morphed into a haunted, far-off look. “They all died,” he whispered. “Everyone of them. I—I don’t know what I did wrong. I’ve been developing those methods for years, and not a single one of them worked.”

Din didn’t know whether or not to be relieved that the doctor’s trials had so far been unsuccessful or angry for the nine volunteers who lost their lives to a mad scientist.

“So, I went back to the beginning to try and find another avenue to try,” Pershing said, looking at Alaina. “I don’t know how I missed it, but neuropathways are difficult. There are millions upon billions of them. Every time you learn something new, a new one forms. On the opposite, others fade away. That,” he paused to point at the datapad Din was holding, “is the very first scan of her brain that I took.” The doctor reached to flick through several images to show Din, but he couldn’t see anything different about them. “They all look similar, correct?”

“Yes. How can you tell she’s dying if they all look the same?” he asked, looking up from the pad in his hand.

“Well, a skilled eye would tell you they are not the same,” Pershing told him. “In her first few months, she developed many new neuropathways… because she was exposed to certain new… experiences.”

“Like torture?” Din ground out.

Pershing’s lips flattened, and the weasel adjusted his glasses on his nose before nodding. He took the datapad back from Din and fiddled with it to bring up new scans to show him. “These are after she had her first premonition and lost her original powers,” he explained, flicking through several new images.

Din frowned as he looked over the scans. Maybe Alaina was right, and maybe this was too advanced for them to understand because Din couldn’t find any noticeable difference in what Pershing was showing him.

“When you’re looking at the scans chronologically, even to the trained eye, it’s hard to find the subtle differences,” Pershing continued, and Din could already tell by the look on the man’s face he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “It’s when you compare the data from the beginning,” he stopped to bring the scans back to the first one, “to the last scan I took side by side. Can you see them?” Pershing’s face drew painfully, and he brought up a new scan for him to see. Then, he split the screen so that Din could compare the two. “The one on the left is the first scan I took of her, and the one on the right is the last one I took,” he explained quietly. “The last one was actually the day you came for the job. Lainey had complained that her bones were vibrating, and I performed my scans a little early that day but couldn’t find anything abnormal. She snapped and tried to run and ended up running into you.”

He remembered that moment vividly. The frail-looking girl in the flimsy white hospital gown came sprinting out of one of the back rooms and was too busy looking behind her and crashed into him. He remembered everything. How her emerald eyes filled with hope. How her hair was dull and reminded him of straw. How gaunt she had become… He remembered it all.

“Tin Man?” Alaina’s doe-eyes were emerald pools, looking up at him for help. “Save me. Please.”

After five years, Din Djarin had been given a second chance.

Now, Din Djarin stared at the two images, noting the millions of golden webs of neuropathways on the left side. However, compared to the image on the right… there were maybe a little over half the number of neuropathways. He took in the cold, hard facts before him and felt that second chance slipping away.

“And now?” he rasped, forcing himself to look away from the datapad in his hands to look at the doctor.

Pershing’s face remained a blank, emotionless canvas as he turned the datapad connected to Alaina around for him to see for himself. Din’s heart sank. The differences weren’t quite as dramatic as the images on his pad, but they were still there. She had maybe lost another quarter of what she had compared to Pershing’s last scan. Not only were her neuropathways diminished, but two new colors weren’t a part of the original scans.

“What are those?” he asked, pointing to the small red and blue patches mixed with gold pathways.

Pershing shrugged, “That, I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before.” Pershing took his finger to the datapad, and Din watched as the images rewound. “This is when she started meditating,�� he explained. “They are there before the premonition. And then, she has her premonition,” he paused to fast forward through the scans, and Din watched as the golden web of pathways exploded to life, looking more like the original scans Pershing took. “And this is after the premonition,” he continued, forwarding again to the picture he showed Din. “Neuropathways are unique to the individual, like a fingerprint. The datapad is highlighting those two patches because they are different from hers,” he explained.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t have an answer to that now,” Pershing admitted. “With the theory that a neuropathway is like a fingerprint… my first inclination is to say that those do not belong to Alaina,” he said slowly and then shook his head. “But that has to be impossible. That would mean that somehow there is not one, but two, other people sharing brain space with her.”

Din’s chest clenched at his words, and he turned to look at the kid, still tucked away in his floating pram. As if feeling Din’s gaze, Grogu turned to look back at him, and he was immediately transported back to the night that everything changed—the night on their moon when they became trapped by Alaina’s mind.

“You’re not meant to understand the innermost thoughts of another,” Alaina had told him.

“Innermost thoughts? Are you trying to tell me we’re trapped inside your mind?”

He remembered the decaying room that represented Alaina’s mind. Her haunting eyes were black, bottomless pools. How the three of them experienced memories of their past…

“I can’t keep you two out of my head. It’s taking all of my power to keep our memories separate, but you guys are so loud it’s making it hard.”

Din turned to look back at Pershing. Should he tell him? Tell him that perhaps the man’s theory wasn’t as preposterous as he thought. Tell him that those two patches very likely represented him and the kid and their bond with Alaina.

“Without further research, I can’t answer that question,” Pershing began, turning the datapad back around to study it. “But whatever they are, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if they weren’t there.” Din didn’t have to ask him to explain. The doctor pressed a button on the pad and then turned it around for Din to see. “Because without those two patches…” he tapered off.

Din clutched Alaina tighter at the image of her remaining neuropathways. Without the two patches, it was alarming to see the difference between her current scan and the last one Pershing took.

“It looks like they’ve acted like a bandaid of sorts,” Pershing said with a shrug, taking the datapad back.

“How long?” Din asked, knowing that Pershing knew precisely what he was asking. How much longer did Alaina have?

“I don’t think I could give you an exact date,” Pershing answered, studying the datapad. “Without those two patches filling in some gaps, I would have said weeks, but I think months if we do nothing.”

“Months?” he asked, unable to believe the doctor’s answer.

Pershing nodded and returned his attention to his unconscious friend. “Three to six months based on the current rate of deterioration,” he elaborated. “Her mind will go before her body. Even if those two mystery patches are the only thing she has left, I don’t think it would be enough to save her. You mentioned headaches and nose bleeds when she was able to move a rock?” Din nodded. “Have those continued?” Din nodded again. “Briefly, I was hopeful when you said she hadn’t had any seizures with you. She was having them with an increasing frequency before you kidnapped her. But that doesn’t appear to be the case,” he sighed. “I believe her symptoms will continue to progress until her mind is gone, and her body will fail at some point after her mind goes.”

Din looked down at the unconscious blonde in his lap and tried to imagine what his life would look like without her. He tried to imagine waking up in the morning without a sea of honey-blonde curls obstructing his helmet. He tried to imagine taking care of the kid on his own without Alaina there to help. He tried to imagine coming down to the hold and not finding Alaina subconsciously going through what was likely old choreography when she would move around out of boredom. He tried to imagine what it would be like not to hear her laugh or her quick-witted sarcasm. He tried to imagine never seeing those emerald green doe eyes ever again.

The images of that future were bleak and dull. Traveling with Alaina and Grogu these past months had made him almost forget what it was like to travel alone.

The what-ifs flooded his mind. What if he succeeded five years ago in preventing Alaina from walking into the hands of Penn Pershing? What if he paid closer attention to Alaina’s symptoms and forced her to get help sooner? What if he had stopped to take some of the research and information that were undoubtedly stored on the computers back at the compound in hopes that they could find another doctor to help them?

But now wasn’t the time to think about the what-ifs or the worst-case scenarios. Now was the time to get answers.

“Was it worth it?” Din asked lowly. Pershing’s surprised eyes flashed to his helmet at his question, making his fists clench and teeth grind. “She was your best friend,” he continued, rage filling him. “She’s only been a part of my life for a handful of months, and I can’t imagine her not in my life. But you… she was a part of your life for twenty years! The two of you grew up together. She loved you!” he snapped. Vaguely, he realized that his voice carried the angrier he became, and they now had the attention of everyone at the campsite. “Was it worth it?” he rasped, ready to punch the man again.

Pershing’s mouth opened and closed like a fish struggling for air on land. “You have to understand—”

“I understand enough,” Din cut the doctor off with a growl. “How do you plan on fixing her?”

Pershing nervously tinkered with his glasses while he got his thoughts together. “I have a theory,” he began slowly, still keeping his gaze diverted from him. “I would need to take her back to the main lab with me to perform some more tests—”

“Not happening,” Din ground out.

“You asked how I plan on fixing her, and I’m telling you what I need to do to do that,” Pershing snapped back with a glare. “The scans of her neuropathways are just the beginning. I need more information.”

“And what once you get that information… what is your theory?” Din asked, running through a million different scenarios in his mind. What if they took over the lab while Pershing performed his tests, and once Alaina was better, they fled? Was there somewhere else they could take Pershing to, somewhere away from Nevarro and the Empire, where he could still do his tests? Could they find another place before it was too late?

“I believe the Child holds the answers,” Pershing announced, and the two men turned to look at the kid, who was oblivious to the attention directed at him as he ate some of the roasted meat that had been cooked after the hunt. “I know my first trials with the Child’s blood weren’t successful, but I know the answer is in there. I have a small sample of the Child’s blood left. It’s not enough to repeat my previous experiments…” When Pershing’s voice tapered off, Din turned to look at the doctor, only to find him already looking at him with nervous eyes. “To thoroughly test my theory… I would need them both to come back to the lab with me.

“Not happening.”

Din jumped at the sound of Alaina’s slurred words. He looked down and saw Alaina’s eyes open, staring at Penn.

“Lainey—”

“I said it’s not happening,” Alaina cut him off, voice scratchy and groggy from unconsciousness. She struggled to get up, and Din immediately moved to help her sit up. Once she managed to sit up, she collapsed back against his chest, exhausted by the effort, and rested the back of her head against his right shoulder. She ripped the monitors from her forehead and chest and tossed them back at the doctor. “You’re not touching the kid.”

Din brought his gloved hands to her upper arms. “How do you feel?” he murmured in her ear as he stroked her arms.

“Like I got trampled by a herd of blurrg,” she grumbled, eyeing the beasts they’d used to ride out here. “But not bad enough to let him experiment on the kid.”

“Lainey, this is just the beginning,” Pershing warned her. “But I truly believe that the Child’s biology holds the key to fixing you. Without him… this,” he paused to point at her, “is just the beginning. I wasn’t lying in my message, Lainey. You will die without my help.”

“Then I’ll die,” Alaina responded flatly.

“Lainey,” Pershing pleaded.

Din gripped her arms tightly. “Alaina…” he murmured but didn’t know what to say. What was there left to say?

Alaina patted the top of his thigh. “Tell me, Penn,” she began as she wormed her hands between the armor on his thigh. “You already have a sample of the Child’s blood and began your little experiments, right?” Pershing nodded. “You said you’d had disastrous success in your message,” she reminded him. “Just how many experiments lost their lives in your hands?”

“Nine,” came Pershing’s whispered reply.

“Nine,” Alaina huffed out a sad laugh. “I guess that makes me experiment number ten, huh? I heard you tell Mando you had some of his blood left?”

Pershing nodded, “Maybe enough for one more,” he said and then shook his head. “But that’s not enough! I need that sample to test my modifications before I proceed with you!”

“Penn, you’re not touching the kid. If you have enough for one more person, you’ll have to make that work.” Alaina and Penn glared at each other. “You’ve got enough of a sample left for one person, and you’re telling me that big brain of yours doesn’t have any ideas?”

Din focused all his attention on the nervous-looking doctor across from them and could tell the doctor was struggling to answer that question. After another moment, Pershing finally nodded, confirming Alaina’s suspicions.

“Now, I want you to look at Mando and promise him that if I go back with you, and I just mean me, because the kid is off limits,” she told him. “Look Mando in the helmet and promise him that if I go back with you, your body count won’t go from nine to ten.”

Pershing’s eyes slid from Alaina to his helmet, and Din could tell by the gutted look on the man’s face that he couldn’t make that promise. “Which is why the Child needs to come—”

“Not. Happening,” Alaina reminded him, hardening her eyes at her former friend. “Look Mando in the helmet and promise him that if you are successful and save my life, you’ll let me go when you’re done with me.”

Din continued his silent stare-down with Pershing, feeling every promise he made to Alaina slip away.

“Alaina—” Penn began nervously but was cut off by his former friend.

“Will you not let me go because you’ll need me to continue your experiments? Or will you not let me go because there won’t be anything left of what makes me… me?” Alaina asked. “If you’re successful, look me in the eye and tell me the odds that my brain won’t be a scrambled, worthless mess.”

Pershing looked between them, and Din thought his heart breaking was terrible enough, but through their bond, he could also feel Alaina’s break.

This couldn’t be it. There had to be something else. Some other alternatives were his only options, which weren’t losing Alaina or losing Alaina and the kid.

“Lainey,” Pershing began with a pleading expression, but whatever the man was about to say was cut off by the sound of a creature screeching in the night above them.

A blur of shadow and a wing swooped in front of them, and Din acted on instinct. He flipped Alaina to the ground with his larger body, shielding her from the beast.

Chaos erupted around them. There was shouting, and Dune was firing rounds blindly at their winged attacker. One of the blurrg let out a pained roar, and Din lifted his helmet just in time to catch a pair of talons sinking into the animal and carrying it away.

“Drop her!” Kuiil ordered, firing his weapon at the beast, carting off his precious blurrg while the other had the kid tucked away between him and the lava rock.

Another beast dropped from the shadows of the night, and Karga cried out when its talon scraped his bicep. The second winged beast changed course, went for one of the other blurrg, and took off with a second mount before flying away, leaving their party a frazzled, panicked mess.

He looked down at Alaina, inspecting her for any evidence of injury. “I’m okay,” she whispered, nodding at him. He turned his attention to Pershing, who had huddled up into a ball next to him and found that the doctor had survived without incident.

“He’s hurt badly,” Kuiil’s voice grabbed their attention, and Mando scrambled to get him and Alaina up off the ground.

“Hey, we could use a doctor over here,” Dune called from Karga’s side. The ex-trooper grabbed a band to tourniquet the guild leader’s upper arm.

“How bad is it?” Din asked as he and Alaina came to the injured man’s side.

“Bad,” Dune answered, nodding to Karga’s arm.

Din frowned at the gashes on the man’s arm and watched as the skin and veins under his skin quickly turned colors and spread as the poison raced through his system.

“So,” Karga started, gritting his teeth against the pain. “This is how it happens?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Dune glowered and glanced back behind her. “Come on, I need a medpac!” she yelled at Pershing.

Pershing hovered nervously next to Alaina and fiddled with his glasses as he watched Karga groan through another wave of pain.

“Penn,” Alaina whispered. “Help him,” she pleaded.

“I—I—I’m not that kind of doctor!” Pershing stuttered.

“So glad we came all this way for you,” Dune grumbled sarcastically. “Give me your medpac,” she ordered.

“I don’t have one,” he admitted. “I only came prepared with supplies I thought I would need for Alaina!” he defended when the ex-soldier glared at him.

Dune huffed and looked around at the rest of the group, “Come on, someone has to have a medpac on them!”

The other two hunters shared a look before turning their blank expressions back to their boss.

“Get this thing outta here,” Karga ground out through the pain, and Din had to do a double take when he realized that somehow Grogu had wormed his tiny body up to the injured man’s side.

Alaina’s hand gripped his forearm, and the two held a collective breath when the toddler placed one of his tiny, three-fingered clawed hands on the man’s injury.

“Wait,” Kuiil whispered as Grogu closed his eyes.

It was like watching Alaina’s shattered hand and wrist be repaired all over again. Grogu closed his eyes and focused on the wound, and Din watched in disbelief as the venom slowly receded until the infected veins and skin disappeared. The gashes on his arm healed until you couldn’t even tell the man had been moments away from death.

And just like he had with Alaina, the kid’s eyes fluttered closed, and he collapsed from the effort.

Din shot forward, grabbing the unconscious toddler to inspect him. The kid gave him a couple of sleepy blinks before he drifted off into unconsciousness, but his breathing and heart rate remained steady, allowing Din to relax. He clutched the kid close to his chest while the toddler slept. He had enough of his clan getting injured against their will for one day.

He turned back to tell Alaina that Grogu was okay but frowned when he watched Alaina dragging a stunned Pershing away from the group.

“How’s the womp rat?” Dune asked, pulling his attention to the rest of the group.

“He’s fine,” he replied. “He’s done this once before. He needs to sleep it off.”

Dune nodded and then jerked her head toward where Alaina had wandered. “Go. I can watch him," she said, pointing at Karga, "and let you know if something changes.”

Din nodded his thanks and followed after the former friends with Grogu nestled in his arms. As he reached the end of the lava rock where they had been sitting, he paused at the sound of Alaina arguing with Pershing on the other side.

“No,” Alaina growled.

“But Lainey, he healed—”

“Penn Pershing, no!” Alaina yelled.

Din peaked around the rock to find the two in an intense stare-down, but he remained where he was, curious to hear what Alaina was so upset about.

Pershing ended the tense silence with an exasperated sigh, “But—”

“Let me make one thing very clear,” Alaina cut him off and crossed her arms over her chest. “If you touch one hair on that child’s head, I will kill you.”

Din looked down at the sleeping child in his arms, feeling an equal wave of protectiveness crash over him.

“Lainey, he healed Greef! I’m telling you that the Child is the answer to fixing you!” Penn argued.

With his helmet still directed at Grogu, Din clutched the child in question closer to his breastplate. The doctor seemed so confident that was the case... but at what cost would that come for Grogu?

“You mean he’s the answer to Project Vermilion!” she snarled. “I can tell when you’re lying, Penn. Saving me is just a side effect of what you really want,” she continued with disappointment dripping from her voice. “You’re not getting your hands on Grogu.”

“Grogu?” Pershing asked, confusion evident in his question.

“It’s his name,” Alaina informed him. “And I’m not going to let you use Grogu; I’m not going to let you use someone so innocent and pure to fulfill your dreams of creating a legion of super soldiers.”

“That’s not my dream, and you know it!” Pershing snapped back angrily. “I told you what my dream was, Lainey! A way to help people. A way to clone organs so no one has to lose their mother to heart failure, or a way to cure cancer so that no one has to lose their mother to cancer—”

“Don’t!” Alaina ground out, and Din peaked around the rock just in time to catch her weakly shove Pershing in the chest. “Don’t use them against me!” she seethed, making Din realize that the doctor was possibly talking about Alaina’s mother. “Maker! They would be ashamed of you! Using their memories to justify your actions! Shame on you!” she finished with another shove.

“Alaina—”

“No! You realize that you’ve been played, right? Do you realize that Gideon won’t let you work on what you want to do until he gets what he wants?” Alaina continued her beratement of the doctor. “And when he finally gets what he wants, what then?” she asked, but Pershing had no follow-up to that question. “Gideon is going to chain you to Project Vermilion for the rest of your life, and he will come up with reason after reason why he won’t let you work on what you want.”

“You’re wrong, Lainey. It may take time, but Gideon promised me. And I’m sorry you don’t like his dream, but he only wants to bring order to the galaxy!”

“Order?” came Alaina’s harsh, disbelieving bark. “He wants to own the galaxy, and you’re helping him achieve his dreams. If Grogu is the key to fixing me, that means he is the key to Project Vermilion, and I will use whatever time I have left protecting him to make sure that never happens.”

“Lainey—”

“I’m not kidding, Penn,” Alaina said, voice low in warning. “The Mandalorian and Grogu… they are my family now. And I will do anything to protect the two people I love most in this whole stupid galaxy.”

Din swore his heart stopped at her admission. Love.

“Tell me after,” Alaina told him, stopping him before he could make his declaration. After they had endured this and returned to their moon…

“Love?” Pershing scoffed, interrupting his thoughts. “You love the Mandalorian? The same one who brought you in?”

Silence hung in the air, but Din dared not move from his hiding spot.

“This is your only warning,” Alaina said quietly.

“But… but you’re dying,” Pershing pleaded, and Din’s chest clenched at the despair coming from the man’s voice.

She nodded, “Yeah? And whose fault is that?”

“Let me help you. Please,” he whispered, and Din’s fists clenched when the doctor put his hands on Alaina’s shoulders. “Come back to the base with me, and I will call off the hunt on the Child.”

Alaina scoffed, “Like you have that kind of power.”

“I have the Moff’s ear! I can convince him to drop the hunt, but I need one of you to continue.”

“Then I guess you’re not continuing.”

“Lainey,” Penn whispered, putting a hand on Alaina’s forearm to stop her. Alaina snarled and snatched her arm out of his grasp, and the doctor put his hands up, likely hoping to calm her. “Lainey, please just consider it. If you come with me, yes, the trials would continue—”

“And you think Gideon will let you continue with someone dying when the real key to unlocking his twisted experiment is out in the galaxy?” Alaina countered.

“He doesn't have to know," Pershing whispered, and Alaina rolled her eyes at his suggestion. "I’ve spent years cultivating that relationship. I won’t tell Gideon you’re dying; he’ll just be happy one of you is back!” Pershing said, desperate for Alaina to change her mind. “Come back with me, and I’ll convince him to call off the hunt on the Child and the Mandalorian,” he offered, and Din went cold when Alaina’s face appeared to entertain the offer. “Come with me and the two people you… love most in the galaxy are free.”

Din held his breath while he waited for Alaina’s answer. Part of him knew that Alaina would never, but another part of him knew the rash, protective woman and knew that if she were given the opportunity to ensure Grogu and his safety, she would take it.

“And when you kill me in your trials,” Alaina whispered, “can you promise me that they will continue to remain free?”

Pershing’s mouth opened, but the man appeared to struggle with an answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Alaina replied sadly. “You can stay with the group tonight, but you have to go at sunrise. Alone. I’m not coming with you. I want whatever time I have left to be spent with them.”

“Lainey—”

“No,” she whispered. “We’re not friends, we’re not family. You’re just some person who was in my life once. You don’t get to call me Lainey. And I don’t have to go with you,” she finished, and Din watched as she turned away from the doctor and trudged back to the campsite.

Din looked at Grogu while he processed the conversation he eavesdropped on.

“How much of that did you hear?” she asked around the corner of the lava rock, making him jump. “Come on, you’re not with the rest of the group. It’s not a hard guess that you’re lurking.”

Din stepped out from his hiding spot, and when Alaina gave him a knowing look, all he could do was shrug.

“How much of that did you hear?” she asked again with a raised eyebrow.

Din looked down at Grogu, still sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the fight over him, and then looked back at Alaina. “Enough,” he answered quietly.

Alaina smirked, “So, basically everything?”

Din shrugged as Pershing walked past them, refusing to look at the three of them as he went to join the others near the fire.

Alaina walked over to him and smiled at Grogu cradled against his chest. She raised her hand to stroke the kid’s forehead, using her fingertips to smooth his wrinkles. “I can’t risk it,” she whispered as her hand went to rub Grogu’s ear. “Even if Penn isn’t lying, and Grogu is the answer to fixing me…” she tapered off and shook her head dejectedly. When her hand fell away, Alaina looked up at his helmet, and Din hated the glassy green eyes full of unshed tears looking back at him. “If Penn figures out how to fix me, that puts them one step closer to figuring out how to give our powers to others… and…” a choked sob prevented her from continuing, and she had to take a step back to wipe her eyes.

Din looked down at the sleeping toddler in his arms. Their sleeping toddler…

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Alaina pleaded, wrapping her green cloak tighter around her body. “Tell me I’m wrong because it’s not enough time,” she sobbed, and when she stepped forward, Din took the arm that wasn’t holding the kid to clutch Alaina tightly to him.

Din’s eyes pricked with tears. “We can still go with the original plan,” he whispered. “I just have to help Karga take out the Imps, and then we’re home free.”

Alaina sighed and pulled away from him, “Din—”

“If Penn can do his research here, he can do it anywhere,” he argued, cutting off any arguments she had. “You saw the med bay on Dietes. We can take him there! Rhoam wouldn’t care!”

“And then what? Are you going to let him poke and prod and experiment on Grogu?”

Din reached to grab her hand with his free one, keeping her near while he wracked his brain, trying to find a solution that would work in their favor.

“It’s over, Din,” she whispered, resting a hand on his chest. “Let’s go back to the Crest—”

He shook his helmet, not ready to admit defeat, “Alaina, no—”

“And we can take everyone home,” she continued, smiling back at him with tear-filled eyes. “And then we can go to our moon and just stay there and enjoy the time we have left. Together. As a family.”

Din gripped her hand tightly as a stray tear fell down his cheek. There had to be another option. Something they hadn’t considered yet, or even just their original plan. They hadn’t come all this way for nothing.

“No,” came his response before he could stop himself.

Emerald eyes blinked back at him. “No?” she asked, surprised to hear his answer.

“No,” he repeated, standing up a little straighter. “We follow through with the plan. We’ll break into the lab and steal the last sample of Grogu’s blood if we have to—”

“Stop! Listen to yourself! I’m standing right here in front of you telling you what I want—”

“You’re asking me to watch you die!”

“Yes. I am,” she whispered. Alaina gripped his glove tightly in her hand and looked up at him with those damned doe eyes. “I am asking you to be with me in my last moments. I want to go back to our moon, and I want to run through the lavender grass and swim in the lake. I want to go hiking with you and Grogu. I want to end every night talking by the campfire. And I want to fall asleep in your arms every night. And when it comes time—”

“Laina,” he rasped, but Alaina shook her head and leaned forward to kiss his chest.

“And when the time comes, just let me go. Let me have this. Please.”

Din shook his helmet as more tears came.

“Come on,” she whispered, tugging his glove. “Let’s try and get some rest. We can figure out how we’ll all get back to the Crest with just one blurrg in the morning.”

In a daze, he let her direct him back closer to the fire, and she picked a spot on the outskirts so they would still have some privacy. As if on autopilot, Din went down to the ground and tugged Alaina’s body back against his chest so he could hold both of them. The rest of the group was huddled around the fire. Kuiil was with the last remaining blurrg, and Pershing had his nose buried in a datapad. Everyone was quiet in the wake of the attack, but he caught Karga looking his way out of his periphery. With a sigh, he ignored the guild leader’s curious gaze and held onto his clan tightly.

Alaina turned her head and placed a discrete kiss on his bicep.

“It’s not fair,” Din murmured, staring vacantly at the fire.

“I know,” was all Alaina said.

What else was there left to say?

“Well?” Dune’s question startled him out of his somber thoughts the next morning. “Are we still proceeding, or…”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, unable to take his eyes off Alaina.

She was standing with Kuiil on the perimeter, with Grogu clutched tightly against her chest, rocking him. The kid woke up with them at the crack of dawn, bright-eyed and back to his usual self. Alaina took the kid in her arms and listened as the kid babbled excitedly at her, smiling and nodding along with him. How she could act like everything was fine…

“Didn’t get good news, I take it,” Dune asked, looking back at Alaina, who was now trying to extract a lock of her hair out of the kid’s grasp.

Din shook his head and forced himself to look away from Alaina to bring his attention back to Dune. Karga was standing a few paces in front of them, and Din caught the guild leader snapping his head away as if he were listening to their conversation.

“What do you want to do?” she asked, gripping her rifle tighter.

“I want to take that weasel and make him make it right,” he ground out.

Dune nodded, “And what about Spunky over there?” she asked, nodding to Alaina. “What does she want?”

Din turned to look back at Alaina, and his heart clenched when he watched her laugh at Grogu when the blurrg they were next to sneezed and startled the toddler. “She wants to go and just let… nature take its course,” he revealed, but Dune didn’t look surprised. “And I understand. To save her—if he can even save her, he needs the kid, too.”

“And then you risk losing both of them,” Dune pieced together.

“I risk losing both of them and risk Pershing figuring out how to make super soldiers for the Empire,” he seethed, clenching his fists.

“So, we’re leaving?” Dune asked.

Din took one last look at the campsite. One of Karga’s hunters was lurking nearby, and the other was hovering near Kuiil and Alaina. Pershing was repacking his bag and giving glimpses to Alaina as he procrastinated, leaving to head to the lab. Alaina caught his gaze and gave him a sad smile. She kissed the top of Grogu’s wrinkly head, making the kid giggle, and then returned her attention to Kuiil.

Could he do it? Just let it all go and give in to Alaina’s requests. And then, in three months, watch her begin to slowly waste away?

“Listen to you,” Karga grumbled, keeping his attention locked on the horizon in the distance. “When did you become so soft and indecisive?” his former boss asked and turned around to level a look at Din.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Din bit back. Dune snarled at the man and came to stand beside him in a show of silent solidarity.

Karga shrugged, “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But it sounds like you’re letting your feelings get in the way of what you know you need to do to save your girl.”

The man’s comment was another punch to his already sore gut. “Drop it, Karga,” he growled. “I respect her decision.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed him with a disappointed look. “Decision?” Karga scoffed. “She’s giving up!”

Din shook his helmet, “That just goes to show you don’t understand. The Empire experimented on her and had plans to do the same with the kid. What if saving her means unleashing Imperial super soldiers on the galaxy?” Din asked, eager to hear someone else’s input.

“The galaxy has dealt with the Empire before,” Karga countered weakly. “Look, I don’t know what all they did to her, but I know what you’ve done for her,” he paused, but Din couldn’t take his eyes off the man. “I know you, Mando, and you wouldn’t have risked everything if you didn’t believe in them,” he said lowly, subtly nodding to Alaina and the kid. “And I’ll admit, I maybe overheard some of what went on last night,” he admitted and then gave him a knowing look. “Hard not to without all that yelling. But I’ll tell you what I see.” Karga paused again and turned his attention to Alaina, smiling at Grogu and showing him how to pet the blurrg gently. “The little green guy may be the key, or whatever Doctor Pershing was blathering on about, but if that was the case, why not just take the kid and run? Why are they so concerned with getting the girl back?” he asked, looking back to Din.

“Because she’s one of their experiments?” Din asked, feeling like he was missing the question. And the weasel of a doctor had unrequited feelings for Alaina, but he kept that thought to himself.

“Think it through, Mando,” Karga nodded at him. “They want both of them, but why? Why do all of this for a dying girl?”

Mando froze and cocked his helmet, “What do you mean they want both of them? What aren’t you telling me?”

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Karga told him, giving him an unsettling wink. “Now, answer the question: Why do they want both of them?” Din shared a look with Dune, but the former drop trooper looked just as clueless as he did. “It’s because they’re scared. Of her. Of what she could be,” he whispered, pointing at Alaina. “We’ve dealt with the Empire before and will again, but what if we had her? What if you go with your gut and take the doctor—”

“Boss,” the hunter nearby interrupted, staring at Karga as if the man was saying something he wasn’t supposed to.

Karga held up a finger for his hunter to wait before he continued. “But what if you take the doctor, and he fixes her? They couldn’t replicate their success immediately, but we would have her on our side and be ready for them when the time came.”

Din felt his heart rate slowly increase at the man’s words, and for the first time since landing on Nevarro, hope came to him in the form of an unlikely ally.

And then that hope was dashed. “She wouldn’t want to be used as a weapon,” he said, shaking his helmet.

“Then that’s her choice,” Karga shrugged. “After everything she's been through, if he can fix her, she should get to choose what she wants. Besides, what if he fixes her, but she loses her powers? Even if she’s just alive as a regular person with no powers to make her special, or he ends up turning her into a god, she’ll still be alive. And that—That. Will. Terrify them because she’ll be out in the galaxy. Maybe she’ll be in hiding. Maybe she’ll go to the New Republic and offer her services to them. Maybe she’ll turn into a god and go after them herself. They’re scared of the unknown. They’re scared of what they can’t control. But if they have her… then they have all the pieces. So, what’ll it be?”

Din’s fist clenched, “What if he can’t save her and she dies?” he asked, looking between Karga and Dune.

“From where I’m standing, it looks to me like she’ll die if you do nothing. At least this way, you tried,” Karga offered.

Everything seemed like it came closing in around him, and he felt torn in his decision. Go against her wishes and maybe save her life? Or… He knew what he wanted to do, but he looked to Dune for support.

“Don’t look at me,” she smirked. “You promised me saving that spunky scrap of sunshine and taking out some Imps while we’re at it.” Din smiled at his friend’s blessing. “But it’s your call. You’re the one who is gonna have to handle her because I have a feeling she’s not gonna take this well.”

Din’s helmet swiveled back to Karga, and his old boss was already smiling at him like he knew his answer. “We’re in.”

Karga acted immediately, his face going into battle mode. Then, his hand went to his blaster, and he took out the two hunters he had come with. “The jig is up, Doctor Pershing,” Karga announced in his booming voice, surprising the rest of Din’s party, and Pershing’s eyes widened in surprise. “He had an entire squadron waiting back at the lab to take the girl and the kid,” Karga informed them, aiming his weapon at the doctor.

Din’s helmet snapped to the doctor, who looked like prey caught in a snare. Fire filled his veins as the weasel’s mouth gaped like a fish. He’d been sent to lure them into a trap, and now the tables had been turned on him.

“Cara,” Din said darkly.

Dune smiled, “With pleasure,” she replied, already knowing what he wanted. The former soldier marched straight to Pershing, knocking him unconscious with the butt of her rifle.

“What are you doing?!” Alaina yelled, mouth agape as her former friend dropped to the ground.

Din took a deep breath at Dune’s knowing eyebrow lifted at him at Alaina’s angry question.

“Kuiil,” he called for the Ugnaught, and the short man came to join them. “Can the blurrg handle you, Alaina, the kid, and that weasel?” he asked, nodding to the unconscious doctor Dune just threw over her shoulder.

Kuiil looked at the doctor and then looked back to him to nod. “The extra weight may weigh her down, but she will make the journey back to your ship,” he replied.

Dune went to toss the unconscious Pershing over the blurrg’s back just as Alaina stomped over with Grogu clutched tightly against her chest.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, searching his helmet for her answers.

“Change of plans,” was all Din had to say.

Her emerald eyes hardened at his words. “We talked about this!”

“We did,” Din nodded. “Alaina, you were right. This whole thing was a trap. I’m sending you and the kid back to the Crest with Kuiil, and then Dune and I will head into the city with Karga and make them hurt.”

“But—”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he stopped her. “When we get back to the Crest, we’re taking Pershing, and he’s going to fix you.”

Alaina looked around at the group for some backup and found none.

“Wait,” Karga stopped them. “It might help to bring them with us. Use them as bait. The Imp will let us in straight to his lair without red tape.”

Din shook his head. “We’re not taking any risks. Kuiil, take them back, and have the droid tie Pershing up—”

A harsh bark of laughter escaped Karga, and he asked, “You’re traveling with a droid?!” but Din carried on, ignoring the man’s jibe.

“Initiate ground protocols once you’re all in. Nothing will get through those doors once you’ve engaged that,” he instructed Kuiil.

Kuiil nodded at his instructions, passed him a commlink, and then turned to Alaina to lead her back to the blurrg.

“No,” Alaina argued, pulling her arm from the man’s hand.

Din tapped a button on his vambrace, and Grogu’s empty, floating pram came to his side. “Alaina, this isn’t up for debate—”

“I’m coming with you,” Alaina snapped.

“Alaina—”

“No! If you’re not gonna listen to me, then I’m not gonna listen to you!” she yelled. “I’m going with you.”

Emerald eyes locked on silver beskar, but neither of them backed down. He knew that look. He knew that those sharp green eyes meant that she was going to do something rash and ignore him anyway. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Alaina knew the city, the Imp compound, and the Imp in question, and if she were to come with him, he could at least keep closer tabs on her…

Din sighed, “I assume if I tie you to the blurrg, you’ll find a way to cause more problems?” he asked, and Alaina nodded.

“It’s the right call,” Karga tossed in his opinion. “One glimpse of that blonde hair, and we’ll walk in like we were invited. Even if you send the Child back, and we take the empty pram, that will buy us more time than you know.”

Din Djarin hoped he wouldn’t live to regret this. “Fine, but remember what I said about being rash—”

“Really?” Alaina deadpanned. “You really wanna lecture me about being rash right now?”

Din ignored her question and nodded back at Kuiil. With a kiss and whispered words to the kid, she reluctantly passed him to Kuiil.

“I will guard him with my life,” Kuiil told Alaina, bringing tears to her eyes. “I have spoken,” he finished and turned back toward the blurrg.

Din placed a reassuring hand on Alaina’s shoulder as they watched him ride away with Grogu and Pershing.

Alaina returned the gesture with a squeeze to his glove before she turned her fury toward Karga. “How do we know we can trust you?” Alaina asked Karga, squaring up with the larger man.

Karga looked taken aback by the question, but when he and Dune stared back, waiting for his answer, the man rolled his eyes. “Aside from the fact that I just shot two of my own people and warned you about a plot to take you and the Child back?” Alaina nodded at the man’s question, forcing a sigh out of Karga. “The plan was to take both of you if you were both still with the Mandalorian,” he started. “Doctor Pershing thought he would be able to convince you to go out to the main lab. From there, we were hired to take the Child and kill Mando,” he told her. “And if that didn’t work, then it would be up to me and my hunters to take out Mando, grab you and the Child, and take you to the lab ourselves.”

Alaina seethed, turning her anger on him now, and Din could tell she was doing her best not to yell I told you so at him.

“But I couldn’t go through with it after what happened last night!” Karga countered, showing the group the lone remaining scar on his arm, which was all that was left after Grogu saved him with his powers. The man looked pleadingly between him, Alaina, and Dune. “Go on. You can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn’t violate the code,” Karga offered, opening his arms. “But if you do… the Child and the girl will never be safe,” he warned.

“Then why suggest bringing us along?” Alaina asked, and Din could tell by the expression on her face as she watched Karga that she was attempting to get a read on him. “What’s to say there isn’t a trap waiting in the city for us?”

“I suggested it because it’s the right call,” Karga answered, not stepping down from the argument. “Because if I just show up with Mando, it will look suspicious. But if I show up with you and an imaginary baby,” he paused to point to the floating pram, “they have to let us in. They think you'll be at the lab, so when we change the plan, it will buy us time to have you as a distraction while we set up our new trap," Karga said, and Din caught Dune giving him a subtle nod that she reluctantly agreed with the man's plan. "You have no idea the monstrous reward for you and that little green bogwing’s heads.”

Alaina pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and turned to give him a nod. So, Karga was finally telling the truth.

“Why even bother heading into the city?” Dune asked with a shrug. “We got what we came for. Let’s just take the doctor and leave.”

Karga shook his head, “Mando, listen to me. Even though that reward would let me live in luxury for the rest of my life, the Imps are choking the city. The guild can’t even operate out of it anymore. People are scared to walk the streets. Nevarro City deserves more than that. But even if saving the city wasn’t the right thing to do, and you just left… The Imperial client is obsessed with getting his hands back on those two. And now you’re taking their doctor? Something tells me that will trigger a worse reaction from them. You’ll never know a moment’s peace. You’ll continue to be on the run. As long as the Imp lives… you’ll never be safe.”

Din didn’t need Alaina to tell him Karga was telling them the truth.

“That’s just one high-level Imp,” Alaina argued. “Moff Gideon would still be out there, so even if we do this, we’re just buying time.”

“Yeah, but the Empire took over Nevarro City for you, right?” Dune asked Alaina and shrugged. “More or less. The compound, the main lab further out, this was all for their experiments, wasn’t it?”

Alaina frowned, “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess.”

“So, we take out the Nevarro City boss, we take the doctor, and we have you and the kid… Sounds to me like Gideon will have to start from scratch. Even if we have to lay low for a while, how much time do you think Gideon’s puppet master will give him to use what little resources the Empire has left to look for you?” Alaina and Din shared a bittersweet, hopeful look. “I won’t say it will be easy, but I think we just need to wait him out.”

Din’s mind raced with possibilities. They had at least three months before Alaina began declining. Hopefully, that would be enough time for Pershing to refine his research and devise a plan to save Alaina. They could planet-hop and reach out to Rhoam when it was time to proceed and make use of the castle’s advanced medbay.

“What’s in it for you if we go with you?” Din questioned his old guild leader. He knew how the man worked. He wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if there wasn’t something in it for him. “You wouldn’t be risking your life and giving up a reward like that if you didn’t have some kind of payout.”

Karga tipped his head and gave him a knowing smile. “I get the city back, just like I told you yesterday when we met at your ship. And it will be my city.”

“By saying you get the city back… just how many Imps are we talking about?” Dune asked, narrowing her gaze.

The guild leader brushed her question off with a wave of his hand. “As soon as we cut off the head of the snake, the rest will scatter.”

“And what if they don’t?” Din countered.

“They will.”

“Not good enough,” Din answered.

“You never answered my question,” Dune commented, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Karga.

“The mudscuffer in question has a personal detail of three to four troopers at any given time. When I stayed at the compound, there could be five to ten troopers at a time,” Alaina offered, turning to Dune. “That doesn’t include the troopers on the main base. I don’t know if I could give you an accurate number of how many are out at the lab in the lava flats. The numbers seemed to change. If Moff Gideon came, there were more.”

“So,” Dune drawled, “at least ten?”

Alaina nodded, “At least.”

Karga huffed, “Ten! Ten Troopers is an afternoon snack for a battle-hardened Shock Trooper such as yourself.”

Mando shared a look with Alaina and Dune. The ex-soldier shrugged her shoulders as if to say she was in, but Alaina didn’t seem as convinced.

“What do you think?” he asked the women, whose reactions were as polar opposites as their appearances.

“That this is obviously a trap and that stealing an Imperial Doctor was a kriffing stupid thing to do?” Alaina snarked.

Dune wrapped a friendly arm around Alaina’s shoulders, earning her a glare from the petite blonde. “Now, now, cutie," she tisked, "you can’t go into a fight with that kind of attitude,” she told Alaina, giving her a little wink.

“What kind of attitude are you supposed to have when you’re walking into impending doom?” Alaina asked, wholly disenchanted with Dune’s appeal.

“You go into it thinking about what you’re gonna do to the jerk who did this to you once it’s all over,” she answered. “That little tiny-eyed man was already terrified of you, and you’re dying. He’s going to piss himself when you come at him at full strength.”

Alaina seemed to mull that over, and then her emerald eyes went to his helmet. “Do you really think I could be terrifying?” she asked him with a teasing smirk.

Din chuffed. “Tranyc, I can honestly say I have never been more terrified in these last few months than I have been my entire life,” he answered, grinning when she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Ass,” she mumbled, making him chuckle. “Fine, we go in, do the job, and go straight back to the Crest. He can sort out the aftermath,” she grumbled, hooking a thumb back at Karga.

“Spoken like a true hunter,” Karga said, smiling at Alaina.

Din turned to Alaina to give her one last out. “Are you sure? Because once we get there—”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, placing a hand on the center of his chest. “Worst case scenario, they kill the dying girl—”

“Alaina…” he growled and covered her hand with his.

Silence settled over the group, and Din gave Alaina one last look, letting her emerald eyes fill him with determination.

“A Mandalorian and a ballerina?” Alaina asked him quietly, giving him a soft smile.

“They’ll never see it coming,” he whispered back, and the two smiled. With a sigh, Din reached behind his back and pulled out his cuffs. Ready to be used as bait?”

The Mandalorian followed behind Karga as they approached the city entrance. Alaina stumbled slightly, and he held onto her cuffs to brace her, but her eyes were fixed on the troopers guarding the entrance to Nevarro City. Din shared a brief look with Dune, who was walking on the other side of Alaina, and the former Drop Trooper tugged the band covering the tattoo on her arm up a little higher.

“Why are they guarding the entrance?” Alaina whispered behind Karga, but the man ignored her as they approached the checkpoint.

One of the Troopers stepped forward and held a hand to stop them. “Chaincode,” he ordered.

“I have a gift for the boss,” Karga told him, puffing his chest out proudly. Then, the man stepped aside to reveal Alaina and the floating pram behind him.

The Trooper glanced at Alaina, then returned to Karga and repeated, “Chaincode.”

Karga sighed, pulled his chaincode from his front pocket, and passed it to the Trooper.

“Something’s wrong,” Alaina whispered, garnishing her attention from the Trooper.

Din tugged on her restraints. “Quiet,” he barked, shaking his head, and said a silent prayer that Alaina wouldn’t flay him alive once this was over.

The Trooper’s helmet lingered on Alaina before turning to look at Mando.

“Don’t worry about Mando,” Karga brushed off. “As you can see, he’s cleared his name with the guild,” he announced, nodding at Alaina.

The Trooper returned Karga's chaincode and said, “I'm surprised it took him this long. That one’s got a mouth on her. You can proceed. He’s at the cantina.”

Alaina rolled her eyes and made a disgusted face at the man’s comment, leading Din to believe that this particular Trooper had been stationed at the compound with her.

Thankfully, the Trooper didn’t say anything else and waved them through the gates. Alaina kept her glare directed at the white armored soldier as they walked by and then, at that last minute, lunged and hissed at the man, taking him by surprise. Dune pushed her back between them as the Trooper tripped over his boots, trying to get away from the tiny woman, and fell to the ground.

“Cool it, Spunky,” Dune murmured but couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

Din gently tugged on the metal bindings around Alaina’s wrist as the trio followed Karga down the city’s main street, and one thing was very obvious—

“I thought you said the squadron was back at the main lab?” Alaina huffed under her breath, but loud enough for Karga walking in front of her to hear.

Din’s hand gripped Alaina’s binders tighter as he eyed the Stormtroopers lining the street.

“This is more than ten,” Dune seethed under her breath.

“Yeah, well, this was a direct result of Mando’s last visit to Nevarro City,” Karga grumbled as the cantina grew closer. “Things got heated after he crashed their little compound.”

Mando could feel Alaina’s worried eyes on him but could only discreetly rub his thumb along the underside of her wrist as they approached the cantina’s entrance.

The three took a collective breath as Karga opened the door and motioned for them to enter. “See, four, just like the girl said,” he whispered behind Mando as he followed them in.

The old man looked up from his table and didn’t seem surprised to see them.

“Look who had a change of heart,” Karga announced, walking around the trio to join the Client at his table.

The Client’s eyes looked between Mando and Dune before settling on Alaina. “A change of heart and a change of plans,” the man commented, keeping his eyes fixed on Alaina.

“Doctor Pershing thought you’d like to see them for yourself,” Karga brushed the Client off as he slid into the booth opposite the older man. “I had my men escort him back to the lab so there wouldn’t be any surprises. And I promised Mando here his spot back in the guild and one for his associate in exchange for the girl and the baby.” The Client’s eyes finally left Alaina to the closed pram. “I knew he’d come back around,” Karga laughed and patted the booth next to him for Mando to join him.

The Client’s eyes drifted from the pram to the Mandalorian, eying his new armor. “What exquisite craftsmanship,” he commented. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans,” he said with a tight smile. “Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?”

Karga nodded and smiled, “I would be obliged.”

The Client nodded to the droid at the bar, and the mechanical bartender began preparing drinks for their table. “Please,” the man said, returning his attention to the trio left standing. “Sit.” Dune gave him a displeased look before she slid into the booth next to Karga. Din tugged Alaina to follow, but the Client put up a hand to stop him. “She doesn’t get a seat at the table,” he informed them, with the slightest quirk of an evil smile as he stared at Alaina.

Mando looked at Alaina, but the blonde just rolled her eyes.

“Actually,” the man continued, reaching for something in the booth beside him. “I thought that since you were the one who took her, I would let you do the honors of chaining her again,” he finished darkly as he produced Alaina’s old collar.

Din bristled at the site of the metal slave collar as a lead weight settled in the pit of his stomach.

“I seem to remember you had an aversion to the collar, but I assume that since you’re returning her, you won’t care,” he continued, sliding the collar across the table for Din to take.

This was a test, and judging by the blank, neutral face that masked Alaina’s regular expressive face, she knew it too. She gave him a subtle flick of her eyes, and Din had to take a deep, calming breath as he grabbed the collar from the table. Alaina refused to look at him as he moved to stand behind her, brought it over her head, and lowered it into place around her neck.

He paused when he saw the leather cord of his mythosaur necklace resting on her neck. Alaina must have the charm tucked under her shirt because he hadn’t noticed she was still wearing it until now. He looked to his wrist, where the bracelet made of the lavender grass and black lake stones of their moon intertwined with a lock of her golden honey hair rested under his leather glove. He felt as if he were breaking some kind of promise. With his gut churning, he closed the collar around her neck and pretended to lock it, hoping her braided hair and hood would hide the fact that it was left unlocked, which meant that if the Client attempted to shock her, he would be unsuccessful. It was a risk, but a risk he was willing to take.

When he stepped back from Alaina, he had to restrain himself from reaching across the table and punching the smug look off the Imp’s face.

“I always knew I’d see you wearing this again,” the Imp said with his crooked smile. Then he motioned for Mando to take his seat and for the droid to bring their drinks to the table. Alaina remained frozen with a blank face, and her chin held high. When the Client snapped, Din’s fists clenched under the table as he watched her instinctively move to stand by his side.

“It is good to see order being restored,” the Imp continued, either oblivious or ignoring the disgust radiating from the three sitting across from him. “The girl will help restore order and allow the Empire to bring peace to the galaxy. The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric,” he preached. “Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now,” he suggested with a snarl. “Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.”

Din’s teeth clenched at the man’s monologue. He had forgotten how much the Imp could talk. When the old man’s eyes fell on the pram floating next to the table, Din’s hand hovered beside his blaster.

“I would like to see the baby,” he said, keeping his eye on the empty chamber.

Alaina’s eyes snapped to his helmet at the man’s words, and Din’s hand gripped his blaster.

“Uh—It’s asleep!” Karga tried to cover.

“We all will be quiet,” the Imp whispered. “Open the pram,” he ordered.

The communications radio flared to life from the bar, and one of the Troopers in the room motioned for their boss to come to the bar to take the incoming communication.

The Imp sighed. “Don’t think me to be rude. I must take this call,” he said before excusing himself from the table.

Din took the opportunity to check on Alaina but found her wide-eyed and pallid as she stared vacantly forward. “Alaina?” he whispered, but Karga motioned for him to be quiet.

“Focus, you are only gonna get one shot,” the guild leader told him, nodding toward the old Imp.

Din’s hand was on his blaster, but he was locked in on Alaina. He knew that vacant expression…

“This is bad,” Dune seethed, nodding to the Troopers gathering out the window. “You said four.”

“Hey, I never gave you any numbers. The girl gave you numbers,” Karga countered back.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly correct her, did you?” Dune shot back.

“Well, there are more. What can I tell you?” Karga whispered.

“Yes, Moff Gideon?” the Imp could be heard greeting in the distance.

Alaina’s head snapped to the old man at the sound of Gideon’s name, and she began nervously wringing her cuffed hands together, a nervous tick he hadn’t seen from her in months. When she turned back to look at the table, Din couldn’t say if it was because of how close they had become or their connection, but he felt his insides bottom out at the look of despair in her Emerald eyes.

“Have they returned our property?” the voice on the other side of the radio asked.

“Yes,” the old man confirmed.

“The girl and the Child?”

“Duck!” Alaina whispered, dropping to the floor.

Karga and Dune turned to give him similar baffled expressions at Alaina’s actions.

“What is she doing?!” Karga asked, voice becoming panicked as he eyed the Troopers, watching the woman on the floor go into a ball.

Their Imp host continued with his conversation, oblivious to Alaina’s actions behind him. “Yes. We have them both. The girl is cuffed and is in an acceptable condition, and the Child is sleeping,” he informed the man on the other line.

Mando turned to look at the two sitting next to him in the booth. “I’ve learned that sometimes, it’s better not to ask questions,” he said before dropping to the floor.

“You may want to check again,” the other man said as Dune and Karga joined him on the floor.

Din crawled to Alaina just as blaster fire opened from the other side of the window. Doing his best to protect Alaina’s head, he pulled her back to the table. Once they were huddled with their companions, Dune flipped the table on its side so they could use it as a shelter against the ravaging spray of blaster fire decimating the cantina.

Alaina flinched when he pulled her closer. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmured as he removed the collar and binders from her wrists. “I’m sorry.”

Alaina nodded into his chest, clutching him as the blaster fire dwindled to nothing, leaving the cantina covered in eerie silence.

“I guess I understand what the big deal is,” Karga quipped, staring in awe at Alaina. “That’s quite a handy gift you have.”

Alaina frowned at the man and then turned to look back at him. “He’s here,” she whispered.

“Who?” Din asked, gripping her hands tightly in his.

“Moff Gideon,” she said as tears filled her eyes. “We need to warn Kuiil.”

Din’s eyebrows furrowed, but he did as Alaina asked. “Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet?” he asked into the comm Kuiil had given him. Silence answered back over the comm. “Are you there? Do you copy?” he tried again when he saw tears leaking from Alaina’s eyes.

The comm crackled to life. “Yes!” Kuiil responded, and Alaina immediately sagged against him in relief.

“Are you back to the ship yet?”

“Not yet,” Kuiil replied.

Din rubbed Alaina’s back, and she looked up at him with her glassy, emerald doe-eyes. “Din,” she whispered quietly so the others wouldn’t hear. “Gideon can’t get Grogu,” she pleaded.

“Okay,” he nodded and brought the comm back to his helmet. “Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid outta here!” he ordered. “We’re pinned down!”

Dune got up from their hiding position and slinked along the back wall to find a better position to visualize their situation. “They’ve got us completely surrounded,” she told them.

“How many?” he asked.

“More than ten,” came her sarcastic answer. “And more arriving.”

“The squadron from the main lab,” Alaina pieced together. In the blink of an eye, her worried, terrified eyes hardened and found a new target—him. “Why didn’t you just listen to me?” she hissed, gripping his hands tightly. "I warned you this would turn into a trap, you stubborn man." She paused to shove the middle of his chest weakly. "Stubborn man!”

“Hey, Spunky,” Dune called, and Alaina’s head snapped to glare at the other woman. “Save some of that anger for the fight because a TIE fighter just landed.”

“Gideon,” Alaina said flatly. “He’s here.”

Din shoved down his feelings and grabbed Alaina, pulling her up with him. Karga followed their lead, and they went to take shelter behind a corner where they could see out the window and be in Dune’s line of vision as well. He grabbed Alaina when she tripped over one of the deceased Troopers shot down by his own team and forced her to look away from the dead Imp who had wanted her back in a collar.

“You have something I want,” a new voice said in the eye of the storm.

“No,” Alaina whispered, flattening her back against the wall behind him and clenched her eyes shut at the sound of his voice.

“Who’s this guy?” Karga asked, looking between him and Alaina.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not,” Gideon continued.

“Kuiil,” he barked into the comm. “Are you back to the ship yet? They’re onto us!” He attempted to keep the swell of panic at bay when he didn’t get an immediate response. “Kuiil, come in!”

“In a few moments, they will be mine,” the Moff continued, his deep, smooth voice unphased by their tense situation.

Alaina’s hand reached for his, and Din gripped it back tightly.

“Kuiil!”

“They mean more to me than you will ever know,” the man continued.

At his words, Alaina sobbed, and Din tugged her hand in his to pull her into his side with his arm over her shoulder.

“Kuiil! Are you there? Come in, Kuiil!” Din tried again, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

“Please, please, please,” he could hear Alaina’s whispered prayers as she clung to his side.

Din wanted to throw the comm against the wall. How had everything gone so terribly wrong?

“Is there another way out?” Dune asked, looking away from her observations to look at Karga.

Karga shook his head, “No, that’s it.”

No. This couldn’t be it.

“What about the sewers?” he asked, looking to Karga for confirmation.

“Sewers?”

Din nodded as a plan began to formulate in his mind. “The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers,” he explained. “If we can get down there, they can help us escape.”

“Yeah,” Karga nodded, “Sewers are good.”

“Checking for access points,” he announced, changing the settings on his visor to help him locate an opening.

“We can’t just leave!” Alaina said, distressed. “We can’t just leave Grogu with them!”

“We’re not, Tranyc,” he reassured her, gripping her hand again. “But we need help if we’re gonna get him back. We won’t be any help to the kid if we’re dead.”

“Yeah, about that,” came Dune’s flat words. “They’re setting up an E-Web,” she announced morbidly.

Karga sighed. “It’s over,” he grumbled and reached for the bottle of spotchka behind the counter, took a deep swig, and then offered the bottle to Alaina.

“Wh-what’s an E-Web?” she asked, looking between him and Karga as she peeked around the corner to see what they were looking at. “It’s just a gun?”

“Just a gun?” Karga scoffed, taking another swig from the bottle. “You’re gonna have to brush up on your weapons if you plan on being with a Mandalorian. Try cannon,” he explained.

“I found the sewer vent,” Din announced, pointing to the metal grate in the back wall.

Karga sighed in relief, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Din marched with Karga to the crate, and the two began attempting to open it, but they had little success.

Mando attempted to block out the high-pitched sound of the cannon charging, but from the way Alaina gaped at the weapon, she wasn’t as lucky. “Try to focus on something else,” he offered.

Karga scoffed and turned from the grate to speak to Alaina. “Don’t listen to him; you’re right to be terrified of that thing,” he told her, making Din want to strangle the man. “The power it takes to charge that thing is enough to level a large enough to level three-block radius, and that’s just the battery. That doesn’t even account for the weapon itself.”

“Alaina,” Mando snapped, and he waited until her wide, petrified eyes locked on his helmet. “Battle lesson number one, survive,” he told her. “We can’t do anything about what’s happening out there; we can only focus on getting out of here.”

“O-Okay,” Alaina mumbled and came to kneel beside him. “How can I help?”

Din smiled and patted her knee.

“It’s assembled!” Dune announced. “How long until that thing’s cleared?”

“Blow it,” Karga ordered him, nodding at the Amban phase-pulse rifle strapped to his back.

Din shook his head. “I’m out of charges,” he explained, showing the man his empty bandolier. "All I have left are my blaster and magnetic bombs,” he finished, pointing to the two tiny bombs left on it.

“Yeah, and you’ll blow us up while you’re at it,” Dune grumbled. “Get out of the way!” she barked and aimed the grate with her rifle.

Din grabbed Alaina and pulled her out of the way, holding her against his chest while Dune attempted to shoot through the grate. After a solid minute of rounds, Dune stopped and slammed her boot against the grate to try to get it to collapse, with no success.

“Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation,” Gideon told them in the quiet after Dune’s attempt at shooting through the grate failed. “I would prefer to avoid any further violence and encourage a moment of consideration.”

The group paused and waited for the shoe to drop.

“Alaina Corra,” Gideon began, and Din tightened his arms around her. “You could end this whole pointless, unnecessary display of violence. We already have the Child in our custody,” he announced, and if it weren’t for Din holding her, Alaina would have collapsed to the ground. “Turn yourself over,” he ordered. “Turn yourself over, and I’ll ensure the little friends you made on your field trip remain unharmed,” he offered.

Alaina turned her tear-filled eyes to him, and Din shook his head. “It’s not happening,” Din told her quietly. “There’s another way.”

“I’m sure a ballerina isn’t aware of the firepower currently aimed at you. Maybe your new Mandalorian friend can explain just how powerful this weapon is if you need an extra incentive.” Gideon continued. “Or, perhaps he could explain to you what it means to be a Mandalorian,” he suggested, making Din frown. “After all, he knows you don’t have to be born on Mandalore to be a Mandalorian.”

“You weren’t born on Mandalore,” Karga whispered. When Din shook his head, the other man’s look of surprise grew. “But you’re a Mandalorian?”

“Mandalorian isn’t a race,” Dune cut in.

Din nodded, “It’s a Creed.”

Alaina smiled and caressed his forearm, “I like that,” she murmured.

Sadly, their brief, tender moment was interrupted by the Moff. “But the two of you have had months to catch up, so I suppose you know that you both have that in common,” Gideon said with a chuckle.

“What is he talking about?” Alaina asked, pulling herself out of his arms to look at him.

“I have no idea,” Din muttered. “Why is he stalling?” he asked, looking at Karga and Dune. “The E-Webb is charged. They have at least fifty, if not more, officers out there. Why are they stalling?”

“You heard him,” Karga said and pointed to Alaina. “He wants the girl.”

Mando shook his head. Something wasn’t adding up.

“I’ll go,” Alaina said quietly. “If it means the rest of you live—”

“No,” Din snapped, gripping her shoulders. “You’re not handing yourself over to him. Something is… off.”

Alaina’s brow furrowed at him for a second, and then the wrinkles smoothed out, and she said, “Happy.”

Din nodded. That was it—something warm and… happy. Not an emotion he expected to feel in their current scenario.

“Okay, you two have officially lost it,” Dune said, eyeing them warily.

“No,” Alaina whispered and smiled up at him. “You feel it, don’t you?” she asked, smiling brighter when Din nodded back, and she turned her excitement toward Dune and Karga. “It’s Grogu,” she told them. “He’s happy.”

Their two counterparts stared skeptically back at them.

“I know it sounds a little weird,” Alaina began, but she was interrupted by a scoff from Karga. "If we had time, I would explain it… Well,” she paused and scrunched her face. We’d do our best to explain it, but we don’t have time, so just listen. Grogu is happy!”

Dune and Karga shared a skeptical look and then looked back at them, still unconvinced.

“Okay, he’s happy, so what?” Dune asked, annoyance creeping into her voice.

“It means Gideon is lying,” Mando filled them in as quickly as he could without going into the specifics. “Grogu wouldn’t be that happy if he was in their custody. He’d be scared. But he’s not scared. They don’t have him,” Din finished and shared a hug with Alaina.

“Great, they don’t have the womp rat,” Dune deadpanned. “How does that help us?”

“Ha!” Karga cheered, his joy becoming a full-on belly laugh. “It means they don’t have the kid, and they want both of them!” he exclaimed, yanking Alaina out of Din’s arms to plant a celebratory kiss on her cheek. “They’re stalling because they can’t fire that thing without killing her!”

Din nodded. “Maybe Kuiil’s comm got damaged, and they made it back to the Crest,” he hoped. He tugged Alaina out of Karga’s grasp, shooting the man an annoyed look.

“So, we’re fine as long as Spunky and the womp rat aren’t in the same place at the same time?” Dune asked, still full of reservations about their temporary stay of execution.

“Hey, I’m not arguing,” Karga announced, playfully punching Dune in the shoulder.

A speeder could be heard growing closer, and the four paused their celebrations to see who was coming.

The speeder slowed to a stop. Mando watched in disbelief as a Stormtrooper dismounted and helped a familiar weasel-eyed doctor in a dirtied white uniform and broken glasses get down after him.

“No,” Alaina whispered as she watched her former friend with a black eye limp to Gideon.

“Well, at least the kid is happy,” Dune snarked, walking back toward the grate.

“I don’t understand,” Alaina whispered, reaching for his hand. “If they got Pershing, where are Grogu and Kuiil?”

Gideon’s voice kicked up a couple of amps, pulling their attention back to the window.

“I thought you said you had the Child?” Gideon asked Pershing, and Mando heard the slightest irritation creep into the Moff’s voice for the first time since this began.

“There was… a complication,” Pershing finally settled on.

“A complication?” Gideon growled.

He could see Alaina let out a breath of relief, but he wouldn’t be able to relax until this was behind them. The blaster fire heard from the distance only cemented that this wasn’t over.

“What now?” Karga grumbled, and everyone glanced out the window to see what all the commotion was about.

A second speeder came tearing around the corner, forcing the Troopers filling the courtyard to jump out of the way, and those that didn’t jump were shot… by the IG droid.

The sound of Grogu squealing in delight when the droid held him as he jumped off the speeder, taking out three Troopers in his twists and turns.

Alaina’s arm came and smacked him across the gut, surprising him. “I told you we needed him!” she said with a grin. “Kuiil promised that he would protect Grogu!”

Din’s helmet tilted as he watched the IG-11 unit’s body spin and twist, narrowly keeping his kid out of harm’s way. When he looked down at Alaina, she cringed. “You were saying?” he snarked. Din sighed, “Cover me,” he asked Dune, who nodded. “Stay. Here,” he ordered, pointing at Alaina.

“Be careful,” she whispered, touching his forearm.

He paused and cupped her cheek, rubbing a gloved thumb against her cheekbone as the two shared a glance for only a second before he spun away with his blaster raised out into the fray.

As much as he hated that particular IG-11 droid, he was reluctant to admit he was handy in a shootout. The droid was holding his own, but with every twist and near miss the kid had felt like another year had been taken off Din’s life.

Another platoon of soldiers came around the corner, and he shared a look with Dune.

“Go!” he yelled at the droid, pointing at the cantina to direct him out of harm's way before the kid got hurt or worse.

Mando ran for the E-Web without looking back, spinning it to take out as many of the attackers as he could while Dune and Karga protected the cantina entrance. After several rounds, he took a hit to the back of his head, not enough to take him out, but enough to annoyingly knock him off his balance. Forced to jump off the cannon, he turned around to confront his attacker once he had stable footing and found Moff Gideon on the other side of the courtyard, staring him down with his blaster.

The man lowered his blaster and fired. Unable to escape the blast, Din was thrown, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, looking up at the sky. The Nevarro sun was high in the sky, attempting to chase away the darkness of unconsciousness creeping in around the edges. The tinnitus ringing in his ears was loud enough to block out the sounds of the battle around him, and the pain radiating from the back of his head was enough to drown out every other bodily function. He attempted to move, but nothing cooperated with him, and the harder he tried, the darker the edges started to bleed.

In summary, this was not good.

More than not good.

The scenery changed, and he was only vaguely aware that someone was dragging him out of the danger zone. The abrupt change in position and the speed of travel made his stomach roll and made him aware of the blood dripping from his head wound down his neck.

A flash of yellow entered his peripheral vision, and two bright, emerald-green orbs swam before him.

Alaina.

He couldn’t even feel her anymore. He must be in bad shape if he couldn't even feel that warm, golden, invisible string was just gone.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” her sweet voice filtered through the ringing in his head as she helped Dune situate him up against the wall in the cantina.

He tried to move his hand to grab her but was barely able to lift his hand off the ground.

“It’s okay,” she told him, grabbing his gloved hands and bringing them to her chest. “IG is cutting through the grate, and then we’ll all be out of here.”

“I’m not gonna make it—”

“Stop, of course you’re gonna make it,” Alaina brushed him off with watery eyes.

“Alaina—”

“No, you just bumped your head,” she interrupted, dropping his hands to cradle the back of his head. She frowned, and when she pulled her hands out from under his helm, her eyes filled with tears.

His eyes dropped to her hands, and he was unsurprised to see that there was blood covering her fingers.

“Vermilion fingertips,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off her hands.

“Alaina—”

“S-st-stop,” she rasped, still staring at her bloodied hand. “IG is cutting through the grate, and then he can drag you through—”

“Tranyc,” he stopped her, resting a hand on her thigh. “I’m not gonna make it.”

Alaina’s green eyes left her blood-covered hand and snapped to his helmet. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, we can help you. You just need to remove your…” she faded as she realized what she was about to say. “Please,” she begged. “This is to save your life!”

He gripped her thigh and felt tears well in his eyes, matching the same tears in Alaina’s.

There was a commotion from the other side of the cantina door, and they turned their heads just in time to see the Troopers breakthrough in a blaze of flames. As the ball of fire rushed toward them, his view was blocked by a curtain of honey-golden hair as Alaina threw herself over him like an idiotic human shield. He wrapped his arms around her waist but was too weak to flip them around. Instead, he clutched her like a lifeline. Like this was the last time he would be able to hold her.

Slowly, the curtain of hair shifted, and the two of them watched in surprise and then in awe as Grogu stood in front of the group with his eyes closed, using his powers to protect them from the Trooper’s flamethrower. Din gripped Alaina’s waist tighter as they watched him concentrate with his eyes closed as he waved his tiny three-fingered, clawed hands and used his powers to push the flames back, engulfing their attackers and sending them flying out of the cantina.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Grogu wobbled, dropped to his bottom, and then collapsed onto his back.

“Grogu!” Alaina called and left him to grab Grogu.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cara Dune standing nearby, staring at him, and he motioned for her to come over.

“I’m not gonna make it,” he told her.

Dune’s lips flattened, and she shook her head, “Shut up. You just rung your bell—”

“Cara,” he said, stopping her. “I need you to get them out of here. Find the Mandalorians. Alaina has my necklace; she won’t want to, but she knows what to do. They’ll help you get to safety. You know where to take them from there.”

Alaina returned and kneeled on both knees before him with an unconscious Grogu tucked away in her arms. Din weakly rubbed the kid’s head with his gloved hand, but he didn’t stir.

“Go with Cara,” he murmured, giving the kid one last caress before his hand dropped to his side. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel the exhaustion and the darkness creeping back in.

Alaina sobbed as she shook her head, “No! H-he could save you—”

“Alaina,” he whispered, bringing a hand to cup her cheek. “The kid just saved us all, and now, Grogu is going to need you. Go with Cara.” Alaina kept shaking her head, and Dune pried Grogu out of her arms and stepped back to give them some privacy. “We talked about this. It’s on you to protect the kid now. I can fend them off and give you time, but you need to go with Cara and find the Mandalorians.”

“Din—”

“It’s okay. Let me have a warrior’s death,” he asked as his hand collapsed by his side.

He stared back at those bright emerald green eyes, made brighter by the tears in her eyes as he lay slumped against the wall. The head wound would do him in, and he wouldn’t be responsible for the Empire getting their hands on Alaina or the kid because he slowed them down. The least he could do was take out as many Imps as possible to give them time to get through the sewers and get to safety. The kid would be well protected between Alaina, Dune, and the IG droid.

“Go,” he ordered Dune, jerking his gun toward the open sewer grate the IG-11 droid had just melted open.

Dune fixed him with a look before she turned to look at the droid. “Don't let her wait too long,” she ordered IG-11. She gave a lingering look to Alaina, who refused to leave his side. When it was obvious that Alaina would have to be carted off by the droid, Dune moved to follow Karga, who had already entered the sewers, undoubtedly eager to get out of the line of fire.

Alaina’s emerald eyes locked onto his from behind his helmet, and she brought a hand up to rest on the side of his helm, rubbing her thumb along the side of the silver beskar piece.

Din brought his hand up to squeeze her thigh, “Alaina—”

“It’s just a head wound… please,” she begged with a sniffle, cutting him off. “I’ve seen every other part of you…”

He sighed, “Alaina...”

“You’re a stubborn man, Din Djarin,” she told him, unable to hold back a sob that escaped her. “Let me help you.”

“You need to go. The kid needs you,” Din told her, bringing up his own gloved hand to hold the side of Alaina’s face, mirroring her actions.

Alaina grabbed his gloved hand and pulled the leather glove off before kissing the middle of his palm and rubbing her thumb over the bracelet she made for him. “We could get married!” she said with a watery laugh. “Right now. Then it would be okay, right?” she asked as her voice cracked at the end.

Din huffed out a weak laugh, “Alaina…”

“I already considered us the boring old married couple,” she tried. “We might as well make it official.”

“You deserve more than a marriage to a dying man—”

“Yeah, but we’re both dying,” she tried again with a shrug. “That makes it more romantic.”

He wanted to shake his head, but his body struggled to communicate. Alaina was wasting valuable time. Din wanted to say something, but the droid was there, ready to take Alaina, and there were too many words and not enough time left.

She inched closer to his helmet, cautiously bringing a hand up either side of Din’s helmet. He was frozen as he felt her fingers search for the release.

“Alaina—” he tried to stop her but gave up when he felt his helmet stop rising at his lips.

Her lips touched his, and he closed his eyes as he savored their last kiss. He could feel her tears fall and land on his face, mixing with the dirt, blood, and tears of his own. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her as close to him as he could, ignoring the pain to deepen the kiss. He hoped to show Alaina everything he couldn’t tell her in their last few minutes.

Eventually, Alaina let his helmet fall back down, and she opened her eyes only once it was secured over his head.

“Alaina, I—” he whispered, tightening his grasp around her.

“Wait,” she stopped him, placing her hand up to his helmet, like she was covering his mouth, and gave him a small smile. “Tell me after, okay?”

There wouldn’t be an after. Not for him. But if it gave Alaina the hope she needed to survive… “After,” he whispered, holding her tightly to him.

Alaina finally pulled herself away from him but grabbed his hand between hers. Her smile was worth it—Was worth everything. She leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to the center of the beskar helm, and Din let his eyes drift closed.

"The Child requires protection," the flat, uncaring voice of the droid said, interrupting their moment.

He could feel her freeze, and when she pulled away, she stared at his helmet as if she found the final piece to a puzzle. “Another living being…” she murmured. Alaina’s face hardened, and then she looked up at the droid, keeping his hand tight in her grasp. “The Child’s welfare is your only priority, right?” she asked the IG-11 unit.

“Affirmative,” came the droid’s instant answer.

“And do you agree that the Mandalorian is imperative for the Child’s continued survival?”

“Affirmative,” IG-11 confirmed.

“Alaina—” Din tried to stop her, but she spoke over him as she continued firing questions at the droid.

“And you’ll help the Mandalorian get back to the Child, no matter what the Mandalorian tells you—”

They didn’t have time for this, “Tranyc—” he slurred.

“—because it doesn’t matter what the Mandalorian wants. It only matters about the Child, right?”

“Affirmative,” IG agreed.

Alaina turned back to focus her attention on Din. Her eyes were filled with determination instead of fear, which put Din on edge. However, he couldn’t complain. If the last thing he saw were Alaina’s emerald eyes, he would have at least something beautiful to see before moving on to whatever awaited him in death.

“My mom told me something once…” she started and then tapered off, her eyes locked on his. “She told me that nothing in the galaxy was stronger than love.” He remembered. He remembered them trapped inside Alaina’s mind after seeing all three of their pasts, and she had told him while they stood in the snow-covered decaying room of her mind. “I thought I understood what she said, but I didn’t until now,” she revealed, giving him a sad smile as she covered his hand with his glove.

Din threaded his fingers through her hair, trying to look into her eyes to figure out what she wasn’t saying. “Alaina?”

“I need you to remember to stay a stubborn man,” she whispered, giving another kiss to his helmet before pulling away from him to give him a watery smile. “You’re a good man, Din Djarin, and I forgive you… Din, I... I love you.”

Din smiled. Now, he could die knowing he did everything he could for the woman and child he loved.

Alaina leaned forward to kiss the center of his helmet and rested her hands on his chestpiece. "If someone asked me if I would go through it all again, I would ask them to put me back in," she whispered into the beskar helm, her lips brushing the 'T' of his visor as she spoke. "You made me a better person. You were worth everything, Din Djarin. Don't ever forget that," she said, finishing with another kiss to his helm. "A Mandalorian and a ballerina?" she asked, and then her voice cracked, leaving her unable to finish with, "They'll never see it coming." With a watery smile, she rubbed his chest and said, "Don't look back."

Without another word, Alaina ripped two of his magnetic bombs from his bandolier and shot up, leaving her mother’s dagger tucked under the strap across his chest.

Din was frozen from a mix of confusion and shock from his brain injuries but still attempted to scramble up, but his body was uncooperative due to his head wound. After several failed attempts to stand, his back fell against the wall. Alaina was already out of his reach. She turned back to give him a sad smile.

“Alaina…” he whispered, shaking his head.

Alaina just stared at him with a pained expression before turning to look up at the IG-11 droid. “You save him, do you understand me? You save him and get him to the kid, got it? I can get you time. You get him to the kid, and you don’t let him come back. Take care of them. Please.”

“Alaina, no!” Din yelled, but it was too late. IG-11 already had him pinned against the wall, forcing him to stay down. “Alaina!” he screamed after her.

She didn’t look back, and Din watched her blonde hair disappear into the street.

“Hold your fire!” he could hear Pershing scream as his former test subject walked out of the cantina.

“Well, well, well,” he could hear Gideon’s voice speaking from somewhere, and his heart clenched. “The prodigal ballerina returns.”

It didn’t even register to him that the droid had his helmet off until the destroyed cantina came into full color. Still, Din tried to search over the droid to get a glimpse of Alaina. He had to stop her from doing something stupid before it was too late. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

“You can’t have the Child,” Alaina spoke, and Din swore his heart stopped in his chest at the determination in her voice. “You can’t have the Child, but you can have me.”

“No,” Din whispered, but the IG-11 unit kept him pinned against the wall as he treated his head wound with bacta spray.

“What’s to stop me from having both of you?” Gideon asked her.

The sound of weapons being drawn could be heard, and Din struggled to look around the droid. He needed to see what idiotic plan Alaina was trying to pull. She had two of his magnetic bombs, and he could clearly picture her holding them out in his head for everyone to see.

“You’re going to let the Child go. You’ll stop searching for him and the Mandalorian; in return, you get me. I know you still have some of the Child’s blood. And I am your control subject. I was experiment number one, and I’ll be experiment number ten. You don’t need both of us. You just need me.”

Silence filled the air, and his heart clenched, knowing that Gideon was actually considering her offer.

“And if I don’t accept your terms?” Gideon questioned.

“Then I set these off and take you all out with me," her nonchalant answer came. "I’m dead either way, so it makes no difference to me.”

The IG-11 unit placed his helmet over his head, and Din scrambled to try and stand, but his head still swam, and he relied too heavily on the droid to get up.

“And how do I know this isn’t a trap? That the Mandalorian and his little band of friends won’t come back to rescue you?” Gideon asked.

The droid's arms were tightly wrapped around him, preventing him from moving toward Alaina. Mando struggled weakly against the droid as it began to pull him to the sewer grate.

Alaina turned back, and his helmet locked onto her emerald eyes.

“Alaina,” he rasped as she gave him one last sad smile before she turned to face down the Empire. Alone.

“Because he knows there won’t be anything left of me to come back for.”

“I’ll kill myself before I go back to the Empire,” she had told him on Sorgan and had implied again on their trek between Dietes and Sorgan to enlist Dune.

“It won’t come to that,” he had told her so confidently a week ago.

“No!” he yelled as he was pulled to the ground.

He yelled at Alaina, the Empire, the droid, for not letting him run to save her and the galaxy.

“How maudlin,” Gideon sneered as IG pulled him through the open vent.

“Between Alaina and the small sample of the Child’s blood we have, we have enough to continue our experiments,” Pershing cut in. The man may be a weasel, but at least he could count on the scientist and his unrequited feelings to ensure Alaina stayed alive.

Silence stretched, and Din struggled pointlessly against the droid as he pulled through the sewer grate.

“Do we have a deal?” was the last thing he heard Alaina ask as the droid held him by his chest and drug him against his will. Eventually, the surface noise faded away completely when they stopped in the open sewers.

“Let me go! We have to go back!” he ordered, struggling against the droid's grip.

IG-11 continued to march him through the sewers. “Our directive is the Child. Returning to the imminent danger zone is counterintuitive,” he informed him in that standard droid—there was no room for shades of grey—argument.

Images from the last few months with Alaina and Grogu flashed through his mind. Of her dancing on the ship. Of her emerald eyes beginning to trust him. Of her trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms. In vivid clarity, his mind played their night together on Arvala-7: holding Alaina against his chest with his helmet off, looking at the sunset with Alaina. Their first kiss in the middle of a storm on their moon. Their first night together on Sorgan, and then their last time together… Their afternoon swimming in the green waters of the lake. Swaying with her while she danced with him surrounded by candlelight... She honestly didn’t expect him to leave her. Not after everything they’ve been through… He kicked himself for leaving the ship all those years ago and allowing her to get captured. Her green eyes haunted his dreams until he saw her again five years later and felt like the galaxy had given him a second chance.

He struggled fruitlessly against the infinite strength of the IG-11 unit as he marched them past their first corner of the sewers, out of sight of the main drag and Alaina… his Tranyc. He couldn’t let her—

The sound of explosions could be heard from the ground above. Whatever had blown up was massive and even rattled the sewers, making the ceiling quake and rain dirt and debris down on top of them. Din dug his heels in the dirt in a futile attempt to stop the doid.

“No!” he pointlessly yelled, the droid not giving in an inch.

“You are required to ensure the Child's safety,” IG-11 told him, voice flat and emotionless.

Din refused to give up, feeling stronger with every minute that passed.

“Mandalorian,” the droid stopped him, holding his shoulders tightly so he would not escape. “Do not let her sacrifice be in vain.”

Din sagged against him.

“Her sacrifice.”

“I forgive you.”

“Her sacrifice.”

“I love you.”

She couldn’t just be gone. That should have been him. Din had been fully prepared to be the one to make that sacrifice. He was one foot in the grave as it was until Alaina… until she…

“Hey! There you are!” Dune greeted them in relief as the IG-11 droid helped him around the corner. Dune rushed up to greet Mando, passing the kid off to the droid and taking the Mandalorian off his hands. “I got him,” she told the droid. She then looked around the vacant underground corridor, confused. “Where’s Alaina?”

Pain stabbed at Mando’s chest, and he turned his helmet to look at the kid, who was still in the satchel, safely carried by the IG-11 unit’s protective steel arms. The kid looked up at him with large, sad, tear-filled eyes, and his large ears fell as if he knew. As if he could feel it. Part of Din had hoped that since the kid was stronger with his powers, he could sense something from Alaina. That he could somehow tell that Alaina was still with them… But by the mournful look he got from the kid, Din could tell that his hopes were unfounded.

IG began to fill Dune in for him, “She terminated herself and statistically a large percentage of the Empire so that we had the necessary time to escape.”

Dune stopped, looking up to Mando with a shocked look of disbelief. “Mando, I’m—I—”

“We need to go,” Mando gruffed, yanking himself from Dune’s shoulder. He stumbled but righted himself quickly and continued through the corridor. They didn’t have time for reflection or platitudes of sympathy.

“Mando, hey,” Dune tried again, jogging up to his side. “I liked Alaina. I can’t imagine how hard you and the kid are going to—”

“We need to keep moving,” he cut Dune off again. “We need to get more distance between us and… whoever is left. Alaina gave us time. I’m not letting it go to waste,” he told her, trying to shove everything deep inside him. Because if he let himself think about it… about her… he would collapse, and there wasn’t time for that. Later. Later, he would break when he was back on the ship with the kid, but they needed to get to the ship first.

Din ignored the worried glances that Dune and Karga exchanged with one another and kept moving forward. He switched his helm to tracking mode to look for signs of his covert to lead them in the right direction. When they turned the corner, he froze at the sight that greeted them.

Piles upon piles of armor lined the corridor of the sewer. While the droid’s bacta treatment was working, and he could feel himself slowly getting stronger, he found it harder and harder to keep the grief at bay, and this discovery was the straw that broke the Mandalorian’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Dune murmured. “We should go.”

Din shook his helmet. “You go,” he murmured. “Take the kid and the ship. I can’t leave it like this.” He couldn’t leave Nevarro like this. Leaving without his partner was hard enough to wrap his mind around, but leaving without his partner and learning that his tribe had been wiped out as well…

He rounded on Karga. “Did you do this?” he seethed, pointing at what remained of his tribe. “Is this the work of your hunters?!”

Karga shook his head rapidly. “No!” he defended. “When you left with the prize, the fighting ended, and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They’re mercenaries. They’re not zealots.”

Din lunged for the guild leader and shook him, ready to take his anger out on the nearest person, and unfortunately for Karga, that was him. “Did you do this?! Did you?!” he shouted again, ready to throw a punch until another familiar voice stopped him.

“No. It was not his fault. We revealed ourselves,” the Armorer’s voice echoed down the corridor, and Din let Karga go and watched as the gold helmet-wearing Mandalorian sorted through what remained of their covert to add them to her cart. “We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted.”

So, this was his fault. “Did any survive?” he asked quietly.

“I hope so,” the Armorer nodded as she passed him. “Some may have escaped off-world.”

“Come with us,” he offered.

The Armorer shook her head, “No. I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.”

Din helped carry a few pieces as he followed her to the forge, with IG-11 carrying Grogu closely behind him.

When the Armorer turned around, she paused to examine the kid in his satchel. “This is the one responsible for all of this destruction?” she asked, pointing to the kid, who was hunched over with ears down, refusing to look at anyone.

Oh, kid, he thought brokenly. He walked to the droid and pulled Grogu from his satchel to present him to the Armorer.

“One of them,” Din confirmed as Grogu squirmed until he was huddled as close to his chest as possible so the kid could bury his face in his cowl. When the kid’s foot struck out one last time, it kicked Alaina’s dagger, and Din reacted quickly to prevent it from dropping to the ground.

He stared at the emerald gems of the serpent’s eyes and felt his chest begin to split open.

“You found the one the beskar dagger belonged to?” the Armorer asked, now staring at the silver weapon in his hand.

Din nodded and slowly breathed through his nose before explaining, “And she sacrificed herself so that the Child and I would live.”

“A noble death,” she replied with a deep nod. “What are your plans for the Child?” she asked, tilting her helmet to look back at him.

The crack inside his chest grew, and he looked down to share a look with Grogu. “If something happens to me, I want you to keep Grogu,” Alaina had told him on Arvala-7 after they watched the sunset. “I know you were a loner before, but I kinda think you’ve liked having us around. I want you two to travel, and explore, and take jobs, and… and whenever you come across a beautiful sunset, I want you to stop and enjoy it.”

“I am taking the Child as my foundling,” he declared.

“This is the way,” the Armorer proclaimed. “You have earned your signet.”

“Thank you,” Din nodded and clutched Grogu to him for a moment before passing him off to the droid to tuck back in his satchel. He couldn’t hear anyone approaching, but if they needed to make a quick escape, the IG droid would be faster than he would.

“Here,” Dune murmured. “Why don’t you have a seat? You need to rest.”

He said nothing but didn’t argue when Dune brought in something to use as a bench and helped him sit down. After she had him seated, she patted his shoulder before turning to leave him alone with the Armorer.

Din pulled Alaina’s dagger back out to look at the emerald gems that formed the serpent’s eyes. His gloved thumb absently rubbed at one of the gems.

“The serpent hilt is a Fanned Rawl, no?” the Armorer asked, making Din aware that she had been eyeing him from the other side of the forge.

Din nodded. “She said that the dagger had belonged to her mother. Alaina had no idea it was made of beskar when I asked her about it,” he told her, rubbing at one of the emerald gems. “She didn't even know what beskar was. She said that the dagger was a gift to her mother, and the hilt was constructed in the image of the Fanned Rawl native to her mother’s homeworld of Naboo.”

The Armorer paused her work to stare at him. He was used to the Armorer’s mysterious ways, but something about how her gold helmet froze made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “The Fanned Rawl is native to Naboo,” the Armorer confirmed. “It is also native to one other planet.”

Din frowned and looked down at the dagger, but his mind went blank. He then looked back at the Armorer, waiting for her to finish.

The Armorer’s golden horns tilted slightly before she said, “The Fanned Rawl is found native on two planets in the galaxy, Naboo… and Mandalore.”

Din’s helmet fell back to the dagger in his hands. A swell of emotions crashed over him—grief, anger, confusion, and sadness all battled for the lead, but for the moment, confusion won out. How her mother, a former Jedi, or almost Jedi, had even ended up with a beskar dagger in the first place… but it was hers, and then it was Alaina’s, and now it was his…

The Armorer walked around with his signet in hand. Din eyed the metal symbol, trying to see what it was as she welded it to his pauldron. When the Armorer stepped away, Din’s heart swelled, and he nodded his thanks to her for the thoughtfulness that went into her craft.

“Thank you,” he rasped. “I will wear this with honor.”

“You are now a clan of two.” The Armorer nodded, “This is the way.”

She hadn’t meant it as something to hurt him. She didn’t know that until an hour ago, they were a clan of three… but he had made a promise to Alaina. “This is the way,” he repeated, unable to keep the waver from his voice.

The Armorer fitted him with a rising Phoenix and restocked his munitions, but Din couldn’t help but look at his new signet.

When he left the Armorer after trying to get her to come with them one final time, he walked down the hall to where the rest of the group was waiting idly.

“Has anyone come down after us?” he asked, and Dune and Karga shook their heads. Din nodded and pointed down the corridor. “The lava river is this way,” he told the group. “We can follow it out to the other side of the city and then see what we have left to deal with.”

Karga nodded and followed Din's suggestion. IG-11 followed Grogu, leaving him alone with Dune.

“Are you gonna be okay?” she asked, stepping closer to him.

“I—I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this,” he rasped.

Dune nodded. “I know,” she whispered. “Are you ready?”

Din looked to his new signet—The symbol of a mudhorn, a representation of him and the kid's first encounter. The mudhorn alone would have been an appropriate signet, but the Armorer had used her skill to add one more element—the beast’s horn had an intricately crafted Fanned Rawl wound around it. The serpent came up over the horn, its head turned back toward the mudhorn with its mouth open and one fang visible.

With a deep breath, he gave Dune a solemn nod.

Din’s feet subconsciously carried him back to the city. He could hear the footsteps of the others behind him. No one said anything. No one tried to stop him.

Once they exited the lava river, Din found himself disappointed not to be greeted by Troopers on the other side. Part of him wished that there was more, something else to distract him from the pain that was threatening to overtake him. The group kept their guns raised, still prepared, just in case, as they walked across the eerily silent lava flats toward the city. Karga easily disposed of the one wayward trooper they came across, who looked just as surprised to see them as they were to stumble into him.

"I love you."

Din swallowed down the flashback. He just needed to know—to confirm what the empty hole inside his chest was already telling him. He needed to see her one more time. He needed to tell her... because it was after now, and he was supposed to tell her after.

He blinked the tears from his eyes as he marched toward the city gates.

He would find her and take her with them. Alaina deserved to be buried. She deserved someplace beautiful. Not Nevarro, this planet that brought her so much misery. She’d liked their moon. Loved running through the lavender plains and swimming in the lake's emerald waters. Din decided he would take her body there. Find a spot in the lavender plains close to the lake where you can still hear the water lap against the black shore. She deserved to be laid to rest somewhere beautiful.

Just as beautiful as she was.

Mesh’la.

When Din reached the city entrance, Dune stopped him with a soft hand on his arm.

“Hey, I’m all for closure, but don’t you think the kid has seen enough?” she asked, nodding to the green toddler, still carried by the IG droid.

Din looked back to the kid, who was staring at him with wide eyes, and let out a despondent cooing noise when he realized he had Mando’s attention.

He sighed and walked to Grogu. Din reached out and rested his gloved hand on his wrinkled head, giving him a gentle stroke like he’d watched Alaina do many times.

“Cara’s right,” he told the kid as if he understood him. After all, Alaina always told him Grogu understood more than Din thought. “I just need to… Alaina… Alaina, she wouldn’t want to stay here, kid," he tried to explain but stopped when his voice cracked.

Grogu closed his eyes and sunk further into the satchel, making the chasm in Din’s chest expand even wider than it already was.

“You’ll watch him?” he asked the droid without looking away from Grogu.

“That is what I am programmed to do,” it answered.

Din nodded and stroked the kid’s ear. “I’ll be right back, kid,” he whispered, turning to follow Dune and Karga into the city.

He took in the damage as he followed Dune and Karga. The buildings were in varying degrees of shambles, getting incrementally worse the closer they got to the center and the cantina. Some of the surviving residents seemed to have come out of hiding to explore the aftermath. Some look scared. Some looked injured. They weren’t his concern. They could be left to Karga to figure out later.

Din stopped to inspect the destruction when the trio reached the cantina in the town center. Buildings were decimated. The front of the cantina was obliterated and looked utterly unrecognizable. The small radius of other buildings looked to be in a similar shape. Din walked to what he guessed to be the center of the destruction and crouched down to inspect it closer.

Black chunks littered the area, and Din picked his helmet up to look around. Dune and Karga filtered through the debris, and judging by the looks on their faces, they’d come to the same conclusion he had.

Dank farrik—Alaina had blown up the kriffing E-Web.

“That Moff’s tie-fighter is gone,” Karga commented with a shrug. “There would be way more debris out here if it had been exploded. Maybe he grabbed Alaina,” he suggested hopefully.

Dune looked away from a Stormtrooper who had melted into part of the cantina wall and looked back at him with a skeptical look on her face.

He knew. The kid knew.

There will be nothing left of me to come back for.

Something silver grabbed his attention from the rubble, and he shifted some of the chunks of debris around until he freed the object—his blaster—the one he’d all but given to Alaina.

The blaster was dented and damaged, likely beyond repair, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he had a chance to dismantle it. He stared at the blaster in his gloved hands. He knew he should feel upset that his mentor’s blaster was damaged beyond repair, but he couldn't feel anything. Everything inside was numb.

Whispered, panicked words filtered through the numbness, and he looked up to see Dune and Karga having a heated argument. Dune’s eyes flicked to check on him, and she shoved Karga’s shoulder to nod in his direction, silently telling the man that Mando was watching them.

His former guild leader frowned when he saw his hunter staring back at him. "I'm sorry, Mando," Karga whispered.

Din watched in slow motion as the man knelt to move a couple of larger pieces away, revealing a glimpse of pale skin. When Karga’s hand came back up, he was holding Alaina’s anklet in his hand.

Finally, the numbness broke as the cord frayed and snapped in his chest.

🐍🐍 End Act II 🐍🐍

Chapter Warnings: Angst (duh), mentions of previous medical experiments/torture, a brief description of a seizure, canon typical violence… and… character death...

Author's Note #2: I can’t believe we finally made it here. When the idea for this story came to me, the last part(s) of this chapter was the first thing I wrote. Once this was written and the ideas started coming, I started plotting backward, and almost a year later, here we are. I also wanted to say thank you. Thank you for reading my story. Thank you for your kudos and comments. Thank you to the new internet friends I’ve met along the way. Heaven In Hiding would not have continued without y’all’s support. I won't beg for reviews, but I am *dying* to see what y'all think. Remember, dear readers, this isn’t the end of the road. It’s just the beginning. You know how I hate to leave you on a cliffhanger 😈 but I am taking a little break to go on vacation and take some time to hit the reset button. I hope to see you for 🐍🐍🐍Act III🐍🐍🐍

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Next chapter in series - Chapter 26: You Are Eternal

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