#my filter and a couple of screws are gone

[ent-is-indecisive]

[themissingnumbers]

WARNING: FLASHING/GLITCHING IMAGE UNDER THE CUT. This also contains descriptions of gore and body horror.

[ @pkmn-monochrome - Previously... ]

Red narrows his eyes as he stares down at Cody, shutting up and listening as they explain. The corners of his lips twitch as they finish, the shadow cast over his eyes falling ever so slightly heavier.

"... So, that's how it is, hm?"

"Barely... any different..."

"... Exactly what I..."

"..."

"I've gotta say, you've really got a way with words! You're so articulate when you're scared, Cody."

He snickers to himself, hopping off the grave and pacing around, looking between the other and the Ghosts.

"Observant, too~! You're right, I really couldn't be bothered to care what you think of me. I'm not exactly here to make friends. I'm sure that'd the last thing you'd want, anyways! See, I'm just here to satiate some curiosity."

He leans in front of Blastoise, tilting his head.

"I would like to formally apologize to the oversized Sobble-in-a-shell for my language. I'm not exactly used to being around others... Twenty-six years of imprisonment wouldn't really teach a guy to have a filter, heh."

He waves a hand nonchalantly, completing the circle.

"And as for your marketable figurine of a rat, well... I'm not interested in being a snotty kid forever. Unfortunately, I don't need any hacking done to screw up my game badly enough to change some things around.

But, hey... I'm not here to make chit-chat with a couple of one-note monsters. It's all about you, the most REAL one in this room. Cody, Cody, Cody, star of the show~! Let's get back to the point. I know you don't exactly think highly of... things like me. What was it you told that one poor girl- 'You've had more than a decade to get over yourself,' right?"

He throws his head back, cackling as if the old remark is the funniest thing he's heard in his life.

"I meant it when I said that I don't CARE. But I AM nosy, and your vitriol towards REDs in particular is just so interesting... Even seein' the face clearly strikes a nerve. So honestly, I'd LOVE to hear EXACTLY what you're thinking..."

"If only you were willing to spit out any fighting words, that is! But you've been so much more polite than I expected, after all the reading I've done..."

He passes by in front of the other, looking off into the distance.

In that moment- a moment of passing footsteps, of the blink of an eye, of a lack of care... something heavy fills the air.

A damning presence looks down on Cody with a dozen eyes, countless mouths, gnashing teeth and twitching claws, two hundred and fifty-five whispering voices. It's a disgusting and shambling creature, a sick and unholy patchwork of amalgamated hearts and yellowed blood, wrapped up in tattered flesh and backwards fur, mismatched feathers and scales and blubber and skin. Writhing, wheezing, bleeding, rotting, every misplaced piece existing out of sync.

Something impossible. Unknowable. Invalid.

The feeling it imposes upon them is suffocating. Like not breathing for years, like something vile filling their lungs, a sickness that is rising, thrashing, tearing, desperate for a taste of "fresh meat" if one could even call a dead trainer that anymore.

"It almost seems like there's something you're worried about," the voices from within it hiss, layered countless times under the casual and teasing tone of Red's own that is lost under the madness...

... Yet the instant the words spill from his lips, that awful sensation is gone as quickly as it arrived. Everything is as it should be. Despite how intense it was... It was little more than two seconds of some sick kind of illusion.

Was it even real? Was that pain all false? Red hasn't lifted a finger, no less even looked Cody's way.

It's as if nothing even happened.

"I wonder, I wonder, what it could be~?" the man babbles on as he walks away, feigning ignorance- because he must be, he must be screwing around with them at this point, right? How could he NOT be?

And now he's laughing- giggling to himself under his breath, like this whole ordeal is some joke that only he's in on.

"After all, I'm just some harmless little video game character. I'm not even real, right?" he chides, "Certainly nothing like one of your big bad players who could crush your shoddy little cartridge cause you decided to be a little bi..."

He trails off, managing to catch himself.

"... Decided to misbehave. What, you don't think I hold any real power over this place, do you~? I can't cause..."

"... Permanent damage."

He slows to a stop several paces away from the monochromatic trainer, spinning on his heel to look at them with a smile that could be described as warm, but...

From heart, to flesh, to grin- there's not a single warm thing about this man in this moment. Only proven further by a final remark, laced with a threatening kind of curiosity.

"So would you like to stop trying to play nice and tell me what you really think of me... Or are you gonna let me get bored?"

[kaysfanficcorner]

Out of This World Chapter 4:

Smuggler’s Moon

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

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

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader

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

AO3

*****

Spending several hours locked inside the Razor Crest with only the little green kid under your charge and your orange feline is nothing new to you by now. After nearly seventy days of living on the space craft, its quite the normal routine. You’ve stayed put for all of Mando’s hunts thus far, sometimes for days, so doing it now shouldn't be such a huge deal. What is new to you, is the fact that a member of a dangerous alien species might want to eat your brains because you’d agreed to be Mando’s bait.

On top of that, you can’t help but feel as if the events over the last couple of days have led to you feeling much closer to the Mandalorian, so your worry for his safety is more at the surface than you’re used to. Both because you like him and because if something happened to him, you and the kid would be royally screwed stranded on this moon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About fifteen minutes or so later, the hatch of the Razor Crest opens and the familiar glint of silver heading up the ramp fills your stomach with butterflies and your chest with relief.  The baby coos happily and jumps down from the cot, running on his little legs to meet his foster father as the ramp is closing again. Mando squats down to scoop up the kid in his arms, hugging him to his chest in a fatherly embrace as he stands to full height again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love that,” you nod, “If I’m being completely honest, listening to you explain stuff is kinda my new favorite thing.” You’re so sure of yourself up until the words leave your mouth, but once they do you’re feeling slightly bashful all of the sudden. Mando’s very being is doing things to you that you haven’t felt in such a long time. It feels ironically alien, as if you’ve completely forgotten how to act in front of someone you’re attracted to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mental image of Mando and the kid sitting in the front seat of an old 80’s Winnebago is so hilarious that it makes you cackle, throwing a hand onto Mando’s shoulder as you lean your head back and hold your stomach with the opposite appendage. It's not lost on you that he freely allows the touch. What really gets you, though, is that you imagine both Mando and the kid with little Mickey Mouse ears as if they’re driving back from Disney World. Mando’s helmet with big black mouse ears on top is such a ridiculous notion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coming to stand directly in front of you, Mando reaches a gloved hand out to stroke the kid’s head and the t shape of the visor fixes on you. You cant help but feel like he's looking you right in the eye as he says, “Just don’t want to think about the day he’s not here anymore.” 

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din grabs him just as he’s about to slide off of you, and you take the opportunity to stand up again. “You can have the next turn in the cot,” Din says, watching you stretch your arms up over your head and trying desperately not to focus on your breasts for too long.

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

He's struck with an idea, acting on impulse as he voices it out loud, “Perhaps when we are done with this I’ll see about getting a second cot put in.”

Din watches you carefully as he makes this suggestion, knowing full well that it’s an invitation for you to stay on the Razor Crest for as long as you want. He wants to see if your reaction is as positive as he hopes it will be, and he’s not disappointed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

Do I want this for the right reasons? You ask yourself, watching the Mandalorian guide you trough the crowds that somehow seem bigger than they had the day before. He’s playing a major role in why you can see yourself staying, whether you’d like to admit it or not. You don’t want your life to revolve around another person, but instead for his presence to become complimentary to your own.

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

Watching the man you’ve grown very fond of weave in and out through the swells of various species bustling around, you can’t help but grin widely. When he'd made a comment about having another cot put in for you, it was clearly an invitation to stay. Thinking about a life, a real one where your perpetual sense of autopilot is finally turned off, with the Mandalorian by your side leaves you a giddy mess. 

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

“What are you smiling about?” He asks, stopping off to the side of the foot traffic to lean over you. You're caught, but you're not upset about it.

“Oh, you know, this and that,” you reply with a flirty tone, still grinning.

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

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

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

Although it’s a little hard for you to be upfront about what you want, you take a deep breath and look right into the visor where his eyes should to be. “I’d like to get art supplies for the kid and I’d like to get my hair cut. It’s too long to properly manage without the right products and it’s been driving fucking me nuts for the last couple of weeks.”

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

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

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

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

Mando watches the person closely for a few moments before his attention falls back onto you. “Would you be comfortable with it if I take care of a few things while you’re in there? I won't stray far. I’ll be done before you so I can grab the things for the kid, and I’ll wait for you outside until you’re finished.” 

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

“Likewise,” he says.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not my wife,” he says curtly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

What you wouldn’t give to kiss him.

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

“You better,” you reply seriously.

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

Mando scoops up the kid for a little hug before handing the baby over to you, he pats the cat on the head, and then he makes his way down the ramp of the ship. He turns to look at you as the hatch closes back up. You hate seeing him slowly disappear, and you hate how vulnerable you suddenly feel without his presence. 

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

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

Suddenly, causing you to jump, the com-link goes off. The baby looks down at your wrist with a concerned look on his face, ears casting downward. 

“Hunt is almost complete,” Mando’s voice filters through, but something about it sounds completely off. Your heart sinks with dread. “I’ll be back soon.”

Perhaps you feel as if he’s off because you’re not used to speaking over coms when he’s on high alert. Perhaps nothing is wrong. But the day before he'd sounded almost playful with you, and this barely sounds like him at all. You respond with, “Copy that,” and he goes radio silent again.

Within fifteen minutes you can hear the hatch of the Razor Crest open back up and relief floods your system. This entire situation has you so unnerved, and you’re looking forward to being done with it. 

When you hear the ramp shut again, you press the little button beside the cot door and the thing slides up to open. The smile you were planning to greet your friend with drops upon seeing the scene before you. 

Mando is walking towards you with his hands behind his head, and he’s being followed closely by a man you’ve never seen before holding an open hand out towards Mando’s back. Instinctively, you move your entire body in front of the open cot to hide the kid.

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically, eyeing the stranger with a narrowed expression of distrust.

The man has a round bulbous nose, grayish skin, and seemingly human looking features. Long brown hair tied back and tan colored clothing make him look less harmless than he actually seems to be. If he has Mando held up, he’s clearly dangerous. 

“So you’re the one who smells so repugnant,” the man says, holding back an obvious gag as he speaks to you with a strange accent. 

You snort, trying your best to play it cool even though you're losing it inside. “Aww shit, I knew I forgot to put on deodorant today. Thanks, dickhead. What do you want?”

His facial expression changes from that of revolted, to one of obscene pleasure. “The child behind you, madam.”

You look down to see the kid peeking out from behind your legs. The cat comes out of the cot as well, hissing violently at the intruder. 

“Fat chance, dude. Mando, what’s going on here?” You address your cosmic companion, but he doesn’t answer. Nor does he move a muscle.

“The Mandalorian is under my thumb for the time being, I’m afraid.” With that, the man waves his hand and Mando drops down to his knees with a painful sounding thud. If he felt any pain from that, he makes no obvious show of it. The stranger continues, “My name is Ranik. I am the bounty your friend here was looking for.” 

Okay, so the Anzat has mind control powers. Although you’re absolutely terrified, an adrenaline fueled maternal instinct to protect the child takes over and allows you remain calm on the outside.

“Cool, not nice to meet you. You’re not taking our kid.” You reply evenly, fully aware of the phrasing.

“Oh but I think I am. There’s nothing you or your friend can do to stop me.” He then moves his hand away from Mando, who fully drops to the ground in a heap, and instead points his open palm out towards you.

A small prickling feeling starts at the back of your head, but that’s all that ever comes and it quickly fizzles back out. It feels just like an odd sensation you’d felt earlier that day in the market, the realization of what that means washing over you. He'd been watching you the whole time. 

Ranik seems to grow frustrated by this, “What species are you? Your brain chemistry is unlike anything I’ve ever come across. Your soup is abhorrent.”

“Human,” you bite back, “but I guess where I’m from we’re built differently.” Taking a chance, you glance down at the kid and then to the blaster still strapped to your hip.

“Regardless, I’ll be taking my meal now.” Ranik draws out, and to your sickening horror fleshy tentacle like things begin to wiggle out of from little holes on either side of his face.

The protruding gray flesh is appalling. When you imagine him using those to kill the child you’ve come to love, your stomach turns and your anger flourishes. 

On the ground Mando groans, curling up into a fetal position while cradling his helmeted head in his hands. He’s not going to be any help any time soon, and you quickly realize that this situation is entirely on you to handle. 

Just as you’re trying to figure out what to do next, Ranik’s hand moves down to point at the kid. Struggling to fight back, the green toddler puts his own hand up and closes his big brown eyes. His little arm begins shaking, and then his eyes open again. They seem to be glazed over, his arm dropping to his side as he starts mindlessly scooting out from behind your legs. 

Ranik has a mental hold over him. You do not allow yourself to panic, though, grabbing the blaster from your thigh and flicking the safety off just as Jupiter launches herself at Ranik. He cries out in anger as she digs her claws into his leg an bites down, batting her off of him with a force you do not appreciate. She’s unscathed, but he knocks her back a good five feet and your blood boils.

Seething between your teeth and scared out of your mind, you hold the blaster just the way the Mando taught you. “You’ve got one more chance to fuck off. I suggest you take it.”

The kid is nearly to Ranik now, the sickening tendrils from his face whipping around wildly. Almost as if the tendrils themselves are excited at the prospect of a good meal.

Ranik goes to bend over in order to pick up the child, and you fire. The first shot misses and Ranik stands up, angrily regarding you. 

“Your presence is becoming tedious, foul woman.” He spits, forgetting the child just long enough for you to fire again.

This time the blast hits him directly in the chest and you let out a scream of rage. You fire multiple times, peppering him with shots until he drops to the floor. Shaking all over, you run over to where the Anzat lay bleeding. He twitches, tendrils still waving around wildly as he makes little sputtering noises. Then he begins to pick himself back up, coughing up oddly colored blood all the while.

Without a second thought, you put the blaster to his head and pull the trigger.

Ranik crashes back down to the floor, the sick realization that you’ve just killed someone washing over your body. The blaster falls from your grasp with a loud clunk on the ground, and you drop down onto your hands and knees. Dry heaving, you hold your stomach as you sob wildly. 

“What have I done?” Saying this over and over again, you fall over onto your right side in a fetal posisiton.

Mando’s voice is in your ears then, saying your name. It’s weak, but he sounds like himself again. “Ugh, my head,” he groans painfully, attempting to pull himself up with shaky arms.

“Mando?” Your sobbing subsides for a moment when your need to check on him takes over, crawling over to where he’s trying to gain his bearings. The kid is sitting up next to his foster father, blinking wildly while holding onto his own head with little claws, face scrunching up in pain. Laying a hand on Mando’s beskar plated chest, you touch the forehead of his helmet with the other as you peer down into the visor.

“Wha- what happened?” He asks, shaking his head around. Once he’s able to sit up again, his breathing is heavy and strained. You break apart and slide back a little.

“I killed him,” you say quietly, arms holding onto each other as your rock yourself.

“Shit,” Mando curses, saying your name again and again followed by a string of apologies.

Jupiter comes over to sniff at the three of you, ensuring that the humans and her little green friend are still in tact, before hissing down at the body of the Anzat and scampering off. When you down look at his lifeless face, long tendrils still hanging limply from his cheeks, you fall onto your back as you panic once again.

The child waddles over to you and places a tiny hand on your forehead, and you start to sob even more hysterically at the thought of what would have happened if you hadn’t just killed someone. You grab him and hug him to your chest tightly, “I’ve got you, little Green Bean. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Then, for the first time in your life, you pass out.

*****

Sever hours later, you awake in the cot with your blanket draped over you and Jupiter sleeping by your side. Head pounding in painful waves and body dripping with sweat, confusion fills your mind as to why you’re in bed and why you feel so horrendous. You sit up as if your body weighs a ton, and you finally understand what people really mean when they claim to feel as if they’d been hit by a truck.

“Mando?” Calling out for the Mandalorian, you peer around your view of the first floor for a moment before your eyes land on an oddly colored stain on the floor and the memory hits you like a brick. You see every moment of it play out before you, seeing the Anzat die by your hand as pang of nausea drops through your belly.

“Oh, fuck,” you exclaim, taking a few deep breaths with your eyes closed in order to try and clam yourself down. 

Suddenly Mando’s voice is filling your ears saying your name, and your eyes snap open. He’s crouching in front of the cot, watching you closely. The cat jumps down and runs off.

“Mando, I-I,” your lip begins to quiver as you stutter off.

“I’m very sorry that you had to do that,” he says gravely.

“I can’t believe I killed someone.” Your body starts to twitch and convulse with the anxiety of it.

His shoulders square a little as he shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have had to. It’s my fault for taking this quarry. Taking a life for the first time is something that will be with you for a long time, but you protected the child, and for that I can’t thank you enough.”

“Where is he?” You’re asking about the kid.

“Sleeping in the pod over there. He’s worn out but he’s okay. Unfortunately this sort of thing isn’t new for him.” Mando responds, gesturing to where the closed pod is sitting on the floor nearby.

Thinking about how devastated the two of you would be if the child had been killed instead, some of the guilt you feel subsides and your nervous system evens out a little. You know that you may never not feel guilty for taking a life, but you were defending an innocent toddler from horrific murder. Saving the child means you also saved Mando from unspeakable heartbreak. As much as this is huge a shock to the system, you’re grateful that the ones you care about are still with you.

“It’s not your fault, Mando.” You say after a moment, sighing as you run a hand through your hair and are shocked by what you feel. “Oh shit, I forgot this is short now.” 

Mando also sighs, looking away from you. “I think it’s best that you stay on Nevarro when we return.” 

Your heart sinks, “What? What are you saying?”

“I endangered the child. I endangered you. I am not fit to care for him or to be your friend. I’m going fulfill my duty by getting him to his people as soon as possible and you’re going back to Nevarro.” His voice is both strained and cold. 

“No,” you say angrily. 

“Yes,” he bites back.

“No. You’re not going to punish me or yourself for a mistake that wasn’t your fault.” At this point your head is pounding so badly and your temper is rising so much that you want to scream at him.

The Mandalorian’s head dips, “Your presence here is distracting. When I’m distracted, people get hurt. I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

You can’t help but argue, a storm of emotions thundering trough your body. “You haven’t hurt anyone. A stranger tried to hurt us. I feel sick knowing that I killed him but nothing was going to harm that baby while I was around. The only reason the kid is still here is because the Anzat couldn’t control my mind. And the fact that he controlled yours is not your fault. Nor is it mine. How could we have known that would happen? Without that being a factor you would have taken him down like it was nothing, and you know it. People fear you. I’ve seen it for myself. That’s because you’re good at what you do.” 

Looking back at you, his voice becomes bitter. “Taking the bounty was reckless and cocky. I should have learned more before jumping into it.” 

“So you make a bad call and suddenly we’re not allowed to be friends anymore?” Now tears are forming in your eyes, fists balled up in your lap. “That’s not fair.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I’m not fit to be your friend.”

“Yes you fucking are.” 

Crawling from the cot and onto the floor, you’re sitting on your heels right in front of him. Close enough to touch. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, and his silence pisses you off. Angrily shoving at his beskar covered chest, a tear escapes from your left eye and runs down your cheek. He doesn’t budge, continuing to watch you closely.

Letting out a guttural noise of frustration, your brow swoops down to narrow at him. “I killed that guy to protect the little one we both love dearly. I also killed him to protect you. You are my friend. Ner burc’ya. In fact, you’re the best friend I’ve had in a very long time. I am not going to give up on that because this happened, and if you did it would kind of break my heart.”

Silence befalls you both. The Mandalorian’s movements are slow and precise as he crawls forward and turns to lean his back against the wall, grabbing you around the waist to pull you to him. You’re suddenly seated between his legs with your back pressed to his body, warm in spite of the beskar. Arms circled around you, he slowly takes both of his gloves off. The skin beneath reveals itself to you, breath hitching in your throat when the fingers of his right hand come to intertwine with those of your left. Your body melts into his and you feel like you could stay this way for hours, the exhaustion in your body threatening to take over.

“I’ve killed many people in my life in order to protect others. This is The Way,” he says after a moment, “but you are not Mandalorian. You have not been trained to fight like I have. To process what it means to kill another living being. I should have never put you in this position.” Leaning his head down to rest on top of yours a little, his beskar helmet is pressing into you. The metal feels hard against your head now that there’s less hair to cushion it.

You grip his hand, tracing small circles into his tan skin with your thumb as you press back into the helmet gently. “But even still, I do not and will not regret my choice to save the kid. This is definitely going to fuck me up for a while but it’s my responsibility to heal from it. No one else’s. Something like this could have happened without your involvement, so please hear me when I say that I am never going to blame you for this. Life can be ugly sometimes, but the ones we care about are what make the ugly moments more bearable.”

“As foundlings we are taught that protecting our fellow Mandalorians at all costs is essential to our way of life,” Mando begins to explain, “Our creed dictates that loyalty, solidarity, and keeping one’s word are all traits of a true Mandalorian warrior. Today you wore the traits of a Mandalorian and you wore them well. You may not be one of my kind, but I believe you have the heart of a Mandalorian. There is a warrior somewhere within you.”

At first you don’t really process how significant what he just said really is, and then it hits you. Your mouth falls open as you blink a few times. “Wow. Thank you. That’s probably the best compliment I could ever receive from you, Mando.”

Words taper off for a few minutes, the two of you holding each other on the floor of the ship you both consider to be home. Then the stillness is broken when the Mandalorian suddenly speaks again, voice a low hum within his armor-plated chest.

“Din,” he whispers in your ear, arms tightening around you considerably as he says it. 

Leaning your head to rest on his shoulder, you look up at him and whisper back, “Is that Mando’a for something?” 

“It is my name,” he breathes, “Din Djarin.”

Your heart is both heavy and full at the same time, chest swelling with more emotion for him than you can really process in such a weakened state. “Din,” you repeat quietly as a sleepy little smile spreads across your face. “It’s handsome. It fits you so well.”

“Only others of my kind or those I trust completely know my true name.” Din’s baritone voice sounds so much more lovely to you now that you have a real name to put to it, to the man who has slowly been bewitching you for weeks on end.

You want to say it a million times, adoring the way the one sylable rolls off of your tongue. “I understand. Thank you for trusting me, Din.”

“Thank you for saving us,” he responds, “I am in your debt.”

“Just save my ass next time the occasion calls for it and we’ll be even,” you laugh a little, then when the ugly memory runs through your mind again you grimace. “Ugh, I feel like shit. The guilt is eating me up inside and its making my head hurt.”

“I know,” Din says soothingly. “When we get to Nevarro I’ll get a room with a real bed for a few days. You need proper rest.”

As he says this, the child’s pram opens up and his little green head pokes out. He looks just as exhausted as you probably do and how you assume Din also looks under the beskar. Slowly, the kid climbs out of the pod to come join his humans. Little legs carry him to the two of you, noises of discomfort leaving him as he does so.

When the kid climbs into your lap and nestles into your stomach, you run your free hand over small his head while still squeezing Din’s fingers with the other. Din’s free hand moves to his foster son, a three-clawed green hand wrapping around Din’s thumb as the kid holds him back.

You sigh, “All three of us need proper rest, Din.” 

“Mm,” he agrees with a hum. Then a slap-happy, giddily little laugh erupts from you, causing Din’s chest to rumble beneath you. “What is it?”

A loopy grin spread across your face, you snuggle into his beskar covered shoulder more as you cradle the child. “I'm just so happy to know your real name. I love saying it.”

“I love hearing it said in your lovely voice.” Din nuzzles his metal covered head into you. “I’m sorry that I considered leaving you on Nevarro. Fear poisoned my thinking.”

“I forgive you,” you accept his apology, “and I’m afraid too, if it makes you feel any better. All of this scares the hell out of me. But I'm thankful to be here with you and this little green bean right now.”

Without much forethought, you pull his hand up towards your face and press your lips to his knuckles. Din makes an indistinguishable but attractive sounding noise, and you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself for causing it’s occurrence. 

*****

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*****

Taglist:

@luc-k-y | @theslytherinwriter | @somewereinthegalaxi

[vankaar]

Eddie twirled on himself to face Steve, throwing his arms around in anger.

"You're telling me that I cannot use my metal songs because you thought that the undead are pretty metal and that filtered in this shared reality and made them impervious to my fucking music??”

Steve shrugs a shoulder a little bashfully, not an easy feat while wearing full plate armor. It's not his fault Eddie pulled him into his weird fantasy mindscape. Steve likes to find the sunny side so he's kinda happy he's not strolling around half-naked anymore. The fur panties hitched like a bitch and he's really glad they were gone.

Eddie stomps around letting out frustration “Shit! Undead that are resistant to heavy metal.. Shit.”

Ok. Steve was man enough to admit that Eddie making him strong enough to bash in Vecna's face by playing that fast Dio's song was impressive.

But he's such a drama queen!

It wouldn't kill him to use something that's not metal, if that means getting out of this with all their organs still where they belong.

“Maybe you could..”

“No, nope! nonono don't say it! I know what you're gonna say, but just–don't. Don't say it.” He groaned with a hand on his face, eyes screwed shut.

Steve shook his head. Dramatic bitch.

The horde of undead was getting near, their moans and the crack of their rotten bones sickening in the silence of the night.

Steve sighed again unsheathed his morning star and started hitting the first undead in range with methodical efficiency.

Swing. Crunch. Rinse and repeat.

“umh.. Eddie? When you're ready– you know, some help would be nice,” he called out while bashing in a skeleton skull.

Eddie let out some more profanities and with a last scream of anger took up his guitar with a grimace. He started playing the first bar of a song, his expression as if in pain.

Steve looked at him with a startled laugh, eyes wide. He knew that song!

“Not. A. Word.” Threatened Eddie with a snarl.

As usual the rithmics, choirs, and all the parts of the song that Eddie wasn't performing got taken up by some local fauna, that seemed to pop out of thin air, with their tiny music instruments perfectly in tune.

It would look like Eddie were in a goddamn Disney movie if it weren't for the drums line being played by their enemies remains, using a couple of femoris as drumsticks.

That would count as metal, right?

Eddie started to sing.

“Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'

Waitin' for some lover to call,

Dialed about a thousand numbers lately

Almost rang the phone off the wall”

Eddie was giving all of himself to the performance, like the pro he was, even if it wasn't his kind of music. Steve loved him a little more as he observed him shimmying his hips to the rhythm, hair swishing around.

It was stifling under the fucking armor.

“Lookin' for some hot stuff, baby, this evenin'

I need some hot stuff, baby, tonight

I want some hot stuff, baby, this evenin'”

The air in front of the undead started to shimmer and warble like the heat haze causing mirages, rising up from the asphalt in the hottest days of summer.

“Gotta have some hot stuff, gotta have some love tonight”

The scene was so surreal that Steve almost got beheaded by a skeleton as the choir made by three rabbit, a badger and a fox sang “Hot stuff” doing the silliest little dance.

He was a little bummed he couldn't give all his attention to his bard only because there were sword-brandishing zombies trying to cut off his limbs.

A pity, truly.

“I need hot stuff

I want some hot stuff

I need hot stuff”

With a thrust of his hips Eddie sent a small magic ball of fire from his guitar. The rippling air around them got lit with a deafening whoosh.

Flames roared high, licking the top of a nearby group of trees. One of his strings started glowing red, a clear indicator of an active spell.

“Wuoah! warn a man, would ya?” yelled Steve shielding his face from the scorching heat. If his eyebrows got singed they were going to have words.

A circular wall of fire sat between them and the horde of undead now. A half dozen of them didn't stop in time and walked right in, exploding in a pouf of sparks and ash. The others took some steps back from the heat and stayed there, looking at them with dead eyes. Swaying slowly. Waiting

“That's a cool trick," stated Steve with a smile while pointing at the barrier with his chin. "..but when the pyrotechnics are gonna fade we're still screwed.”

He felt a little guilty pointing out the obvious, Eddie was doing his best.

“Damn, I was hoping they would be more stupid,” said Eddie, drying some sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his blouse.

“We need a way to make them walk into the fire,” thought Steve, out loud.

Eddie tapped his lip, a mischievous smile slowly spreading on his lips. Steve wanted to grab him and taste that smile so much.

“How do ya feel about being a honeypot, big boy?” winked the metalhead twirling on himself to stop in playing position in front of Steve. Very close.

“Huh?” replied Steve unintelligently. His brain got this bug and it blue screened every time Eddie got so close he could smell him.

Eddie started directly from the chorus this time.

“If you want my body and you think I'm sexy

Come on sugar, let me know, ooh

If you really need me, just reach out and touch me

Come on, honey, tell me so, ooh”

He sang circling the other as he played and making the most over the top, silly, sexy faces.

A pink wave of glittery magic followed in his wake, surrounding Steve. The horde started to make sounds and swayed in Steve’s direction as one organism, getting near the thundering flames.

“He's actin' shy, lookin' for an answer

Come on, honey, let's spend the night together”

Eddie sang wiggling his eyebrow suggestively at Steve who answered with his bitchiest eye roll but was secretly impressed: Two of the guitar chords were glowing now, Eddie was keeping up two spells simultaneously. Not bad for someone that learned how that shit worked just that morning.

As the song continues the undead start to walk into the fire, going up in a popping series of blazers, sounding like popcorn and going out like insects fried in those bug zapper people use during summer’s nights.

Steve was glowing pink instead of violet like those lights but the concept was disturbingly similar.

When the last of the undead was gone, Eddie let out a deep exhale, his guitar stopped glowing, and everything went suddenly darker because the flames went out in a zap of red magic.

Eddie fell on his knees, propped up on his guitar, hair falling into his face. He was clearly exhausted.

Steve knelt beside him putting a hand on his shoulder

“You ok?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second. That was intense,” breathed out Eddie.

“Ok”

Steve pulled the other's bangs out of his eyes, tucking the longer strands behind Eddie's ear.

Big round eyes were looking at him with the expression of a deer caught in the headlights and Steve couldn't help himself.

“So… hot stuff, do ya think I’m sexy?” he said using an exaggeration of his most suave King Steve voice.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he slapped him repeatedly on the arm in a fashion eerily similar to Robin when Steve was being annoying on purpose.

Steve chuckled.

“You!!! You're on thin ice man– fucking thin ice!- he yelled, his pointer finger up menacingly like an angry teacher.

Steve saw Eddie fight the smile tugging at his lips and counted that as a win.

One day he's going to be braver and kiss this silly brilliant man.

[the-firebird69]

If it was just weird you're making things cuz they look weird or make things as a function well or I do today is awesome I'm going to put it into production shortly and we're going to have like shows and we're going to show it and they'll be trying to order it for the stores and we'll put in the auto show and we can put golf shows. But the guy say they want to do it first and so we're going to deliver to him and they're going to put it out there and then it'll drive around the golf course. So much fun should be illegal and he says can we make it to any PGA courses and so yeah we have people and we can cover it up and it's going to be cool I mean this is going to be fun it's certified courses and stuff we're going to be alive and they're really the ones that are tournaments and stuff.

-the warlock lost again big time they tried to take people stuff and they got hit and if you were hitting them now overseas in the eastern hemisphere they're getting hit at the races and Stan's trying to recapture ships and they're going to hit episode one is going to start shortly and it is New Hope it starts when they are taunting him Non-Stop and about him trying to take chips and he won't be able to and they keep doing it every day non-stop so he goes to try to take him back and that starts the saga.. they're here trying to steal stuff is there a hit a lot they had 1.5 million octane people left late this afternoon $500,000 octane died trying to take things at work there's the rest started to take their own stuff out again some of them figure out it's easier took tons of it and the other started fighting and took tons of their own and that fight is kept them together for a little bit and they did lose a couple hundred thousand octillion they're down to like 800,000 octillion and they're pulling stuff pulling stuff and finally put it on the ships and finally everybody said just get out and started fighting over the stuff that was there like 10% to 20% and they lost most of that and left those who didn't leave are fighting over things and they're getting hit very badly and they're not coming home and it's invisible thing that happened to them and there's only a few left here and there and enclaves but they're still one or two octillion people.

-they're now standing APB in addition they're about to use and there are rewards from the state and the federal government against John riven Lord and associates all of them and their issued by the sheriff and they're going on now. And todarying to fire 200 they fired $200 yesterday and it's a lot of people and that how it goes. I'm going to defcon 1 I

-they find a lot of other people and they won't know until tomorrow apparently it send them notices and they still won't know how they grabs a lot of them literally the force of the elite supposedly leaders of 3,700 now 3,400 will be cut in half to 1700 who are better and the government workers are going to be 5% tomorrow so it was just today other agencies are being dissolved and most of the federal agencies that cleared the amount

-wee do need to come in here and straighten them out. That threats all over the map.. 200 threats a minute I'm going to start moving on this area

-two more things this one my son is up in the air and a lot of stuff then people are screwing around with him.. hey come on threaten the few minutes after being told what to do with it and do it again it's the same thing.

-the huge number of people want them out then they're working to do it outside of

-Ebola to filter out all night like tomorrow they'll be gone for most areas if it's sitting here staying here and they're going to start dying shortly

Thor Freya

[beastswithoutburdencomic]

the family business: hunters and Wardview U

Couple of days ago two hunter brothers destroyed our frat house and we couldn’t be happier.

Yeah, I know what you’re saying- what? Chadster, what are you talking about? Didn’t all your worldly possessions get utterly wrecked in some fiery inferno or whatever? And I’m like, yeah! It’s all gone dude! The only reason why we didn’t get dusted was because Kurt had rented out a motel room to score with some smoking dames who blew into Wardview. 

It was a good night, even with the unholy existential terror of the rising sun through the slats in the blinds.

So, the brothers. No one let us know that they were showing up. Which isn’t that big a deal, actually. We weren’t having a party that night ‘cause Zebulon was taking his midterms. Like, sure, the rest of us haven’t been into taking tests since like the 50s, but he’s still super in on the academic stuff. Zeb’s out here collecting degrees like it’s no one’s business. A brother’s gotta help a brother out. Even when it scores goose eggs in actually getting some chicks.

Point is, Z-man was the one who let us know shit was going south.

He was doing the studying, as usual, even though it was getting to dawn and there was a ton of vague light just kinda there over the horizon, right within burning distance.

“The fading nights are the closest remains of our fleeting mortality,” Zeb says, “You may hide in the revelries of endlessly repeating witching hours, but there is a part of you, still, which craves the sun. Why do you shy away? Is it not love, to touch that which will destroy you utterly?” 

Sure thing, Z . Sure.

So Zs was looking out the window, contemplating immortality or whatever, when he saw a couple guys through the morning fog. Not exactly anything big, since we get a lot of the thralls of the frat running out in the morning to keep their massive gains. Problem was, the two guys were a lot slower than any of our guys. And there wasn’t a single short leg between them! It was just jeans and flannel all the way down, like two models stepping out of the Old Navy summer sale that was gonna be starting any day now. That’s all fine and whatever.

What wasn’t fine were the rifles across their backs. What wasn’t fine was the fact that they were making a beeline straight for our front door at this bullshit time of morning, and that they were gunning straight for us.

So yeah, of course Z was sounding the alarms left and right! What else was he supposed to do? When he got turned, he was still nerdy and weak, so the vampiric strength couldn’t really do much. The rest of us though? We can handle a couple of guys. Even if we were all kinda hung over.

As the leader of AlphaBetaO, I was naturally the first one up. Zeb barged into my room, voice cracking from volume he wasn’t used to as he yelled about, “Hunters!” And of course I was thinking, shit, do we still have the babes from before? But he was just pulling on me, dragging me off the couch I was totally and elegantly thrown all over, pointing at the direction of the stairs, looking paler than… well, than the dead. Lol! There’s some vamp humor for you there!

Then there was a HUGE bang from downstairs, and that was when I started hearing everyone else start to get up, annoyed muttering and groans filtering in through the walls with my totes superior vampire hearing, and I could hear the heartbeats of those hunters from a mile away. 

Steady, strong, pumping lots of hot blood through the foot that just crashed into our goddamn living room. And it’s like, dude! We just got that shit screwed back on days ago! We can’t keep running through wood like this or my dad’s gonna flip! 

I won’t get too far into the logistics of the battle, since all that crap’s pretty boring, and you know that me and boys put up one hell of a fight- but somehow- somehow!- those hunters got one over on us. They were just lucky, of course. If it were any other time, we would’ve cleaned the floor with those guys, guns and all. 

We didn’t have much time, so we all ended up piling into the back of Zeb’s van and drove to the room that Kurt had rented out to stay the day, and that was when we saw the flames licking over the walls of the frat. In a way, I guess the fire was a good thing- all the smoke and ash blocked out the rising sun in the east, and it let us get away without any light hitting us. 

We only found out what happened the night after, when my old man came to grab us; turns out, there’d been a plasticshifter in the house, and none of us had even realized. 

I mean, how could we? If it was a plastie, it could have turned into anything around our house- toothbrushes, cups, pens, you name it! It would’ve been there! Slowly eating away at the insides of our mouths! Really, we dodged one hell of a bullet, when we were beating that entirely tactical retreat. It wasn’t that we were running away- it was just that we needed to recoup, and it gave the hunters time to take care of things.

Dad says that they got a tip that the thing was staying in our frat, and now that the place was burnt, he sorted everything with the hunters! Sure, right now we have to deal with temporary housing until we can move into the other house that the fraternity owns, but no one was hurt, so! All’s well!

At least, that’s how most of us see it. Zeb says he isn’t all that sure about everything.

Zeb’s been asking things. Like, who would have tipped the hunters off, if no one in the house knew? And if they were tipped off, why wouldn’t they try to call us first, just to make sure that the pasticshifter wasn’t riding us out of the house as a pair of glasses or a prized novelty shot glass or whatever? Why did my Dad say he ‘sorted everything out’? Why the guns at all? 

Like, sure, I can’t answer those questions. But maybe tipping us off would have tipped the plastie off too. Maybe one of our thralls saw something and didn’t want to freak anyone out; maybe the hunters just assumed we knew. Who knows! 

Zebulon’s still reading a whole lot into the situation. I wanna tell him to take a chill pill, but he’s just holing up in his room with all those boring textbooks and won’t come out. Kurt says he needs space to ‘process’ his “”emotions””. He hasn’t really gotten the hang of growing a thicker skin just yet; he just needs some time to figure it out.

Now see, this is the result of all this mistrust that’s been going around about hunters. Everyone’s talking about how hunters are out to get all us supernatural folk, but that’s just not the case! The only ones they go after are the real monsters, like the plasticshifter in our frat, who hurt the entire community. Folks like us, who have nothing to hide and who pay all our dues, don’t have anything to worry about! 

Plus, we can’t lie- those guns looked cool as shit.

[ The preceding opinion piece was paid for by members of the Vladsly family in conjunction with the Wardview University Hunters’ Corp. Chad Vladsly is a university student, student leader, and vampire. For more on the activities of hunters in the community, please click the following link.

To support the Wardview Review, please support our upcoming webcomic. ]

[thisissirius]

my version of the “ok but in the finale eddie gets shot, right?” fic

to touch the sky [ao3 link] eddie/buck, finale speculation. major injuries. mentions throwing up. 

Eddie can see the sky. 

Is he supposed to see the sky? His ears are ringing and there’s a hazy quality to all the noise, like it’s coming from a long way off. 

Move, Eddie tells himself. 

There’s a dull ache beneath Eddie’s breastbone, a tingling in his fingers, and he’s finding it hard to breathe. Something about that should scare him, but it’s too hard to focus. He grunts, remembers his training; pinpoint one noise, one feeling. 

Sirens. Eddie winces, wants desperately to cough but can’t. 

A voice. Buck.

Choosing Buck’s voice is easy; Eddie focuses everything on it, on trying to move his head, but he doesn’t need to. The sound of something scraping and then Buck’s head appears above him, eyes wide, panic in his expression.

“Eddie,” Buck says, but it sounds murky. Eddie blinks, licks his bottom lip as he tries to solidify Buck’s face. Instead, his eyes drift down his body and he notices that Buck’s not wearing his uniform. Why? It’s something Eddie should know and he’s frustrated that he doesn’t. What’s happening? “Eddie.” 

“I’m fine,” Eddie tries to say; but it comes out a gurgled mess. There’s blood on Buck’s hands when he touches Eddie’s face. He looks scared. Eddie hates it when he looks scared. “Shit.” 

“Don’t swear,” Eddie tries. Again, it doesn’t make sense even to him. He can’t focus on why that is, just the terror in Bucks eyes. 

Buck is still touching him, hands wet and red, and he’s shaking. “You hold on for me, okay?” 

Can do. Not that he knows why he needs to. Eddie’s done it before. Thinks if Buck asks, he’d hold on forever. That sparks something in him; he is waiting for Buck. He’s been waiting, but about what drifts just out of reach. He wants to—

Pain explodes in Eddie’s chest and he makes a noise, one that makes Buck’s face screw up. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Eddie tries. Some of it must slur out because Buck’s gaze sharpens, a little hope. “You’re bloody.” 

Something crumples in Bucks face. Eddie thinks it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. 

“It’s yours,” Buck says, his voice high. “Eddie, it’s yours.” 

Oh. That doesn’t sound good.

Drifting for a while, Eddie stares up at the blue, blue sky. It’s bright, sunny, and it’s a nice day. The park. Eddie’s supposed to be taking Chris to the park tomorrow, his day off. Alone, because someone else, someone who comes with them somtimes, isn’t there anymore, but the name drifts away, just the image of a smile, a name he doesn’t like. 

“Eddie?” 

It’s a lot of effort to move his head but Eddie does. Buck’s crying and Eddie wants to reach out, wipe the tears away. His fingers are still tingling and all he can manage is a weird jerk of his fingers. 

“Stay with me, alright? I need to get you on the basket so it’s gonna hurt.”

“Nothing hurts,” Eddie tells him, but for some reason that makes Buck close his eyes, take a few breaths. “Okay?” 

A laugh, sad. “Yeah, Eddie, I’m okay.” 

Eddie groans when pain shoots through his chest. He ignores Buck’s muttered apologies, focus on the way the sky tilts, his eyes taking in a building, the side of another. 

“You got him?” Chimney. Chim’s here? 

“We at work?” Eddie asks. Buck doesn’t answer for a moment. “Buck?” 

Eddie can’t help the way his tone banks into panic. 

“Easy,” Buck says immediately, and his face reappears. “I just had to get the harness on, Eddie, alright? I’m still here.” 

Eddie stares at him. Harness? Nothing about this makes sense. When whatever he’s laying on sways, he feels sick. “M’gonna throw up.” 

“Shit,” Buck says. “Alright, Eddie, do what you gotta do, okay?” 

“M’kay.” Eddie blinks. “Glad you’re here.” 

Buck laughs and again, it sounds funny. “You and me both, buddy.”

There’s a lot more swaying, and nausea bubbles up until it’s overwhelming. “M’sorry,” he mutters as he throws up, chest flaring with pain until it’s all he can focus on. 

“Hey,” Buck says, his voice cutting through whatever’s whining. “Eddie, listen to me, Eddie, you need to focus, okay—HOLD THE FUCKING WINCH—sorry, I know that was loud.”

Eddie closes his eyes, embarrassed, but there’s a hand in his hair. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, his voice gentle, and the swaying is less. 

“Buck,” Eddie manages, and the whining’s stopped at least. “Feel funny.”

A pause. When Eddie opens one eye, he can see Buck hovering over him. He’s wearing a helmet, blood on his forehead, his shirt, but he’s there. He touches Eddie’s face. “I know. We’ll be at the hospital real soon.”

Hospital. For Eddie?

“Yeah, for you,” Buck says, voice cracking. 

“’kay,” Eddie mumbles, and closes his eyes. He can feel the rocking, the noises filtering back in, but Buck’s hand is on his forehead the whole time. 

“Don’t sleep,” Buck says more than once.

Eddie tries. He tries so hard. “Just a little—”

“Eddie,” but Eddie can feel the tug of sleep taking him over. 

-----

Buck’s hands are shaking. 

“Hey,” Hen says, resting a hand on his thigh. “You need a coffee?”

“No,” Buck says immediately. He’s staring down at his sneakers. They’re covered in blood. Eddie’s blood. Like his hands—he’s tried cleaning them—like his shirt, his everything. “How long—”

Buck’s phone cuts through the silence, Chris’ familiar ringtone drifting out of his pocket. A couple of people glare at him, but Buck ignores them, grits his teeth as he answers. “Hey, buddy.”

“Buck,” Chris says, sounding scared. “Abuela said Daddy—”

“He’s hurt,” Buck says, not wanting to scare Chris more than he has to, but he’s not lying. “I’m in the hospital right now, okay?”

A pause. “Can you come home?”

Buck closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. Home, like he lives there. Like there’s not been a steady distance building between him and them for weeks. “I need to be here for your dad, alright? As soon as I know anything, I promise I’ll FaceTime, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris says quickly, which means he knew. “You’ll hold his hand?”

Ana will, Buck thinks viciously. Out loud he says, “Both of them. For me and you.”

Chris doesn’t stay much longer; Isabel takes the phone. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck starts. 

“Don’t be silly,” Isabel says, in the way only she can. “Eddie is strong. He will come back to his family.”

“Yeah,” Buck breathes. 

Isabel makes a frustrated noise. “To you.”

“I don’t think,” Buck starts. 

“To you,” Isabel says again and hangs up. 

Staring at his phone, Buck wonders if Isabel knows about Ana. She must? Eddie’s not the kind of guy to not tell his family and he’s met Ana, so surely—

“Buck,” Hen says, tapping his leg. 

He looks up, sees the doctor walking towards them and abruptly realises they need someone here, Isabel or Pepa, he should have kept them on the phone. He realises, with growing dread, that Ana might be Eddie’s emergency contact. 

“Is there a Mr. Buckley here?”

Buck startles, almost drops his phone. Hen and Bobby share a look. “I’m Buck. Uh, Mr. Buckley.”

The doctor nods, approaches. “Is it okay to have a private word, Mr. Buckley?”

“You can,” Buck starts, frowns, doesn’t know what to say. He looks pleadingly at Bobby. 

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says, with a sense of urgency and patience that Buck doesn’t think he could ever master. “You are Mr. Diaz’s agent, are you not?”

Buck almost says no, but he’s too surprised, too shocked to do anything but stare. Hen pinches his thigh and he nods in reaction, says, “yeah.”

“Good,” the doctor says. “We’re about to take Mr. Diaz into surgery to treat the pericardial tamponade. I need to confirm whether there’s a DNR in place?”

Buck doesn’t know. 

“I,” Buck starts. He thinks, tries to recall Eddie ever saying—

"I don’t have a DNR,” Buck says. “Do you?”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie snorts, nods at Chris. “Neither of us is allowed to go anywhere, Buckley.”

—“No,” Buck says. “Please, he doesn’t wanna die.”

“Alright,” the doctor says. He says something else, something Hen and Bobby are listening too, squeezes Buck’s arm and disappears.

“What’s a pericardial tamponade?” Buck asks, he knows, but he needs them to say it. 

Hen doesn’t look at him. 

“Compression of the heart,” Bobby says instead, approaches slowly. 

Buck’s glad of that a moment later when his legs almost give out.

“Easy,” Bobby says, lowering him into a chair. “Breathe, Buck.”

“Why am I,” he gasps out. “He made me his POA, and I can’t—”

“Of course you,” Bobby says carefully. He squeezes Buck’s hand and Buck squeezes back, probably too hard, but he needs something to ground him. Eddie’s got a fucking heart compression and Buck knows that’s bad, so bad, but he can’t—

“Bobby.”

“Listen to me,” Bobby says. “Of course it’s you. That man loves you—”

“Don’t,” Buck says. “Please. I know you mean well, but Ana.”

There’s a silence Buck can’t explain. 

Hen sits down next to him, looking concerned. “Buck, Eddie broke up with Ana this morning. He didn’t tell you he was going to?”

“No,” Buck says, unable to comprehend. They didn’t speak that morning because Buck’s phone went off and he was with Taylor and they’d gone for coffee. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Someone moves something close and Buck throws up, feels guilt and horror well up in his stomach. Eddie’s in surgery, a doctor asking about resuscitation, and Buck didn’t know he’d broken up with Ana because he was celebrating Taylor’s promotion. 

_____

Numb.

There’s a steady beeping in his ear (hospital) and a rustle of sheets (his own?)

He tries to open his eyes. Nothing. Making a noise of frustration, he tries again. 

“Hey,” someone says in his ear. “Eddie, you can do it.”

Something is clogging his throat and he can’t speak, it hurts, something thick and it hurts. 

Someone says something, but his chest is tight, his panic palpable and then nothing.

When he next wakes, his throat hurts but he can breathe. He wants to sob with relief. This time, he can open his eyes. The lights are too much and he abruptly shuts them, makes a noise in the back of his throat, and shifts. 

“They’re off,” someone says quietly, and he feels a hand in his hair. “You wanna open them again for me?”

Eddie wants to say no but his mouth won’t cooperate so he makes a noise. 

“Please?”

The voice is trembling. Afraid? Eddie doesn’t want anyone to be afraid. He cracks open his eyes, grateful when the lights are off. He turns, ignoring the floaty feeling in his head, his body. 

Buck. 

“Buck,” Eddie croaks. His throat hurts. Buck must realise, because he holds out an ice chip. Eddie takes it, sucks on it gratefully, but can’t look away from Buck. He looks exhausted, a cut on his forehead, and his clothes look rumpled and bloodstained. “Okay?”

��Fuck,” Buck mutters, letting out a watery laugh. “Of course you’re asking if I’m okay.”

Eddie doesn’t know what that means. “Awake before,” he manages, before Buck’s shoving another ice chip at him. 

“Slowly,” Buck admonishes. “I need to alert the doctor.”

“Stay,” Eddie says, sudddenly panicked. 

Buck abruptly moves, puts his hand in Eddie’s hair. “I’m not leaving. Just pushing a button, okay?” Eddie nods and Buck does so, but he doesn’t move away. “God, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. Then, “woke up before.”

“I know,” Buck winces. “They intubated but didn’t know you were gonna wake up so soon. They had knock you out so they could take out the tube.”

Eddie tries to focus on that, but the words drift away like smoke.

“You had a cardiac tamponade,” Buck continues, as if he can’t see Eddie’s confusion. “They weren’t sure you’d be safe to consciously handle—”

The doctor interrupts him, striding in and taking over.

Eddie tries to focus, to pay attention to what the doctor’s saying, doing, but he just clings to Buck, hopes Buck’s paying attention. 

“I got it,” Buck whispers in his ear. “You can rest if you need to, okay?”

“Stay?” Eddie says, scared.

Buck leans down, kisses Eddie’s forehead. “I’m never leaving you.”

Eddie falls asleep with those comforting words in his ear. 

[attackfish]

(Take 2!) please, if you have time, some headcanons about an au where Ozai decides to screw Zuko over even more by populating his ship with Junior Corps members of the fire nation army aka new recruits between 13-17 years of age instead of experienced navy officers. Literally Iroh and Lieutenant Jee are the only adults on board this floating disaster and the fire nation uses child soldiers and it’s terrible.

I love everything about this prompt? Sometimes I joke that my AUs are just finding new ways to torture Zuko, and this, this is perfect. You know how when there's someone who just has too much in common with you, and you just can't get along? This is why I hate Ozai. We both just like torturing Zuko too much to get along.

1. The Fire Nation military does not officially allow in recruits below the age of sixteen. And they are, for the most part, excellent at filtering out the odd teenaged street kid or peasant who thinks the military can't be any worse than their current life. Indeed, the Fire Nation tut tuts about those barbaric Earth Kingdom people (and later Southern Water Tribe people) who put their children in battle. How could they put their chidren in danger that way? This is why they need to be conquered! This logic completely disregards that it is the Fire Nation conquest that puts the children in danger, and that it is a privilege the Fire Nation enjoys that they can keep their children out of harm's way. This is what makes it so shocking when Ozai sends his son and daughter into the war along with two other noble girls. I'm willing to bet that if Azula's luck had run out and there had been disaster, and Azula had been hurt or killed, things would not have gone well for Ozai.

2. It's one of Ozai's generals who inadvertantly gives Ozai the idea. He mentions that since a new munitions plant went into operation, there has been the usual uptick in adolescents trying to enlist from the region, but they have been diverted to the coal mines instead. Ozai says, hey, I would like some of those teenagers. Only boys, please. Yes, I have a plan for them. The fact that the general develops dire suspicions as to what Ozai might want with a couple of handfuls of teenage boys, suspicions which are even worse then Ozai's actual plans, goes entirely over Ozai's head. He merely requests only boys because he wishes to forestall any procreation on the part of his son in his soon-to-be exile, which might complicate the succession.

3. It takes some time for the teenagers, remarkably fortunate to be diverted from the coal mines, to arrive. This means that Ozai has to delay kicking Zuko out for a little while. He doesn't mind that much, because Zuko is unconscious and then feverish, and therefore less annoying than usual. This is extremely convenient of him, possibly the most convenient Zuko has ever been in his life. Anyway, Ozai claims his reasons for delaying Zuko's banishment are humanitarian, to give him time to recuperate in the palace, under the care of the royal physician. This is an excellent excuse, since to most people it's plausible, some people even think it'd magnanimous, and at the very least, to some, it makes him look less like a shit father.

4. Yeah, Iroh's not buying it. He knows something's up. Awakened from his grief-sunk stupor, he assumes the worst and sits by Zuko's bed day and night in order to prevent an assassination. Ozai sneers at this, and tells Iroh that if he is so concerned, he can share Zuko's banishment. Iroh thanks him kindly and accepts. Ozai was not expecting that. He thought he was going to have to force that particular solution to the inconvenience that is his older brother. Iroh's place at his nephew's bedside has another result, which is that he is there to witness Azula saying her last goodbyes to her brother. He is feverish and hallucinating, and Iroh fears for his life, even without an assassination. But Azula laughs at her brother, and gloats scornfully. Iroh doesn't know which is more troubling, the laughter itself, or the traces of something darker underneath.

5. Zuko is, still in shock, still in pain, able to walk up the gangplank onto the ship that will carry him into exile, on his own two feet. Iroh hovers, a hand on his shoulder, but Zuko manages it. But his eyes are glazed as he is welcomed by his new crew. It is up to Iroh to peer into those faces and see a crew comprised of children, to be led by a child prince.

[wbearv]

A different day off - b.c (f, sg)

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: Chan likes to spend his day off doing nothing at all, but when he receives a call that you’re sick? well, screw his day off.

a/n: something more fluffy coming to ya! I didn’t really proofread this at all so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes! I hope you like this <3.

masterlist

As the very busy person Chan is (really, he should just sleep a little bit more), he usually spends his days off laying in bed doing nothing. Those days when he can enjoy the peace and quiet of his room without having to worry about anything work related are rare, but he cherishes them to the max.

The sound of his phone ringing startled him since he made sure to tell everyone the day before not to call him unless someone was dying. Someone better be dying for him to have to move from his very much comfortable position.

The screen was lit and your picture came up next to your name.

“y/n,” he sighed. “It’s my day off.”

“Hey Chan, I’m Seungmin, I’m sorry to call you but,” your flatmate said, stopping while you half cried half sniffed in the back because you couldn’t reach the plushie that just fell to the floor. “y/n is pretty sick, and I’m supposed to leave to catch my flight in twenty minutes, could you tell Minho and ask him to take care of her while I’m gone? I tried to call him but he’s not picking up.”

“Minho is out practicing for next week-” the line went silent for a second just for Chan to speak again “you know what? Forget Minho, I’ll go myself. Be there in 10”

“Thank-” Chan hung up while the sound of keys resonated in the background. Seungmin left the phone on the table and turned to look at you, laying on the couch like a whining soul.

And that was how, after stopping by the pharmacy to pick up cold medicine Chan arrived at your apartment a few minutes later. When your flatmate opened the door, he quickly entered the room and went straight to the sofa where you were half lying half sitting. You looked really pale, there were dark rings underneath your eyes and your nose was really red and puffy from all that sniffing and paper tissues. When you turned to the door, expecting your brother, you were really taken aback by him.

“Chan?” The smile that grew on your face immediately once you saw him is interrupted by a nasty coughing fit, which you direct away from him and into the cushion underneath your head.

He rushed to sit next to you, rubbing your back while you let all that coughing out. “Easy”

“Well, I have to leave now or I’ll miss my flight. Keep me updated and take good care of her! see you in two days, don’t die on me” and with that, he closed the door and left, leaving the whole apartment silent.

While you closed your eyes and let your head fall back into the pillow, Chan explored the apartment with his eyes, taking note of the mess around you. Tissues are strewn about and there were empty cough drop wrappers littered across the coffee table. He noticed the cute pics from last summer’s camping trip where you drunkenly told him you liked him but completely forgot about it in the morning, so he never brought it up again. There were a few pics of you and Seungmin from where you first came to this apartment, another one with Minho and your parents… but one caught his eye. You both were smiling and had ice cream stains all over your face while Chan had his arm around your neck, and you were looking at each other with fondness.

He unwillingly smiled and let his head remember those moments you’re your coughing snaped his attention back to you. Chan frowned, and got up to pick up the medicine from the plastic bag he brought.

He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and sat back next to you “I brought medicine.”

You smiled grateful with your eyes still closed, feeling a shiver run through your body, feeling weaker as time progressed “You’re an angel, Channie.”

Chan tried to ignore the rush in his chest from hearing your voice say that nickname that you only use on very special occasions “Yeah, well, you owe me one, y/n.”

You’re still smiling, but your expression showed just how weak you were at the moment, making him more worried.

“Take this” he said taking a spoon full of medicine and approaching it to your face “open up.”

You obliged and swallowed the medicine, your throat hurting and not being able to swallow correctly. Suddenly, you shivered and frowned your brows.

“You have fever” Chan said picking up the thermometer from the cabinet next to you.

“No I don’t” you said sitting up a little bit to take a sip of the tea Seungmin made before leaving “I might be sick but I haven’t had a fever in ages, I doubt it. I just have to get up and freshen up a little bit and then I’ll be f-”

You were cut by Chan, who walked straight to you with a very serious expression on his face and a thermometer on his hand. He put his hand on your shoulder and pushed you down on the couch again, making you sigh in surprise.

“No, you’ll get your temperature checked and then you’ll lay down and sleep while I prepare you some soup so you can eat” he said with an authoritarian tone.

“But-” when you opened your mouth to complain, he took advantage of it and put the thermometer inside your mouth.

“But nothing. Close” Chan said looking straight into your eyes.

You closed your mouth and when he placed one of his hands in your neck to keep your head up, using the other one to check your forehead’s temperature, you felt how your cheeks got redder and redder by the second.

The thermometer’s sound was the only thing that could be heard in that moment, appear from your labored breathing. Chan took it out of your mouth with his hand, leaving one still around the nape of your neck.

“Jesus Christ y/n you’re burning” he said looking at the numbers in the screen “even your face is getting so red” you touched your cheeks and looked at him again. “come on, you have to rest.”

He grabbed your arm and helped you get up from the couch, placing his hand on your waist to help you balance and carrying you to your bed. Feeling the hot skin tightly against yours, you tried to convince yourself that the fever was the one to blame for your skin feeling like it was on fire.

When you were already lying down on your bed and covered with your blanket, you sighed in content.

“There.” Chan standed back. “Better?”

You looked at him with pure affection with your puffy eyes and smiled softly. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Chan smiled nervously and hurried back to the kitchen “I’ll make you some soup now, rest while it cooks.”

When he made his way back into your room with a freshly cooked bowl of soup, he found you sound asleep and smiled fondly. Chan placed the bowl in the table next to your bed and bowed down to kiss your temple, then turned the lights off and made his way out of the room.

But then he heard your voice and froze.

“Chan?” she whispered with a soft cough “can you lay down with me?”

He straightened up in surprise, turning around to face you. Even though it was dark, your face was slightly visible thanks to the dim light coming from outside of the room. And when you smiled at him shyly, he swore his heart skipped a bit

“Um,” he murmured nervously.

“Just lay with me? Please?”

The way you looked at him with your eyes was enough to make him leave any intention of refusing “Okay.” He sighed.

He took off his sneakers and, when you opened the blanket for him to get inside, he gently laid down, careful not to crush you or make you uncomfortable in any way.

You didn’t fall asleep, but enjoyed the silence and how Chan’s body felt next to you. A little while later you spoke softly “Hey” you said, your hand brushing his under the blanket “Thanks for coming over. I really needed this.”

Before he could stop himself, he placed his hand on her cheek, letting his thumb gently caress her skin.

“Of course,” Chan says softly. “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

You didn’t know if the fever was the one talking or you just let your filter slip because of your vulnerable state, but when the words left your mouth, you didn’t stop them “I really really like you Chan, I wish you could see me as something else than your best friend’s younger sister.” And before he had the chance of replying, you were sound asleep.

You didn’t notice it though, but for a solid hour, Chan couldn’t sleep, not one bit. Not after what you just so wholesomely honest said.

Just a couple hours later, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times before finding Chan peacefully asleep next to you.

You’re so close to him, close enough to appreciate how his honey skin glows with the faint rays of sun that come through the door and how his chest rises and lowers slowly with every breath he takes. You can also see how tight his arms are now that you can take a closer look. You supress the urgent need to caress his arm while you sigh, your head pounding, less than what it did a few hours ago but still hurting pretty bad.

You looked at Chan again, feeling really grateful for him. He actually came here today, and on his day off of all days. He took care of her and made her soup – even though it was long forgotten next to them.

A stray lock of his hair fell into his eyes when he slightly moved his head. Gently, without thinking, you reached across and slowly moved it to the side while admiring his face in the process. Chan stirred slightly, and his eyes fluttered open. You opened your eyes as wide as you were able and felt a sudden urge to pull your hand away as fast as possible. But when he smiled at you, your hand didn’t move one bit.

“Hey,” He whispered. “How are you feeling?”

“I am really feeling better” you smiled and closed your eyes to slightly change your position, your hand landing next to his leg. Chan felt nervous all out of sudden and, when his phone alarm boozed off, he got up and grabbed it.

“Wow, it’s gotten late. I should probably head out.”

But before he is able to leave, you grab his arm.

“Wait, um.” You nervously sat up a little “Do you wanna— can you maybe—” You sighed slightly and looked at him straight into his eyes. “Do you wanna stay?”

“I-” Chan opened his mouth “I have practice tomorrow and-”

“I know, I just, I really don’t want to be alone right now.” You cut him off.

He looks at you with a conflicted expression.

You’re about to tell him never mind— that it’s okay, and he’s right, he should leave before it gets any later— but then a slow smile appears on his face.

“I guess Seungmin won’t mind that I grab one of his pyjamas”.

A few hours and two bowls of soup later, you’re both ready to go to bed. Your fever went up a bit and you were feeling kind of dizzy, so you were avoiding getting up from the sofa.

Chan got closer to you and grabbed your hand to help you get up, but you instead made him sit again, very close to you this time.

You looked at him, feeling dizzy at how awesome he was. You must have stared for quite a while, because Chan looked at you worried.

“What?” he said, slowly caressing the arm that was outside of the blanket.

You locked eyes with him and, without thinking, you moved your head forward and kissed him.

Chan was surprised at first, but after a few seconds he returned the kiss with just as much enthusiasm. He intertwined his fingers with your hair and pulled you closer into the kiss – if that was humanly possible.

It ends too soon, though, when after just a few moments Chan pulls away.

“y/n” Chan sits straight and looks at you “You don’t mean this, you’re just sick.”

You look at him with your eyes filled with love and affection and place your hand on his cheek. “Chan, I absolutely mean this, believe me” and you got closer to him again, only a few centimetres between your mouth and his.

“Why do you only confess to me while you’re drunk or have a fever, y/n?” he said, looking at you with affection.

“Wait, what?” you said confused. You did not recall confessing to him apart from just a few seconds ago.

He smiled at your confused expression and lifter your chin, so you looked at him again “Nothing, doesn’t matter” and he closed the space separating you again.

And maybe the following morning Chan wakes up with a sore throat and a somewhat stuffy nose, but he doesn’t really care. What are days off for if it is not for enjoying them? You just have to learn how to accept the consequences.

[onemattwolf]

feeling sorta, attention-y. I wouldn't say *needy,* more like, "hey look at me a sec, I'm cute, right??"

hence the self-indulgent selfie post.

It's been a weird time. specifically around the whole, finding the kind of people I not only gel with friend-wise, but also sexually. It turns out, that I naturally gel with *very few people* in both categories. I already knew that I'm the kind of person that doesn't feel too close to many people, in the sense of, people tend to bond more easily with me than I do with them, so when it happens both ways quite effortlessly, it's very special for me. I should've figured that'd I'd face similar, or worse issues, with finding people who I can naturally bond with when it comes to sex, but I really hadn't thought about that. This has just made finding good fwb that much more complicated.

Technically, I have 3 local-ish people who are interested and down. I've had sex, a couple times now, with one of them. He's also now one of my best friends. But, out of the 3 of them, he's the most distracted and busy. He's also had a very inconsistent sex drive lately, so there really isn't much in the way of flirtyness in our regular interactions now. I miss that. Mainly because I've discovered I'm hard to flirt with. If people aren't almost obnoxiously unsubtle, it really doesn't filter in as flirting. And if it's too, "ooo I'm so sexy and *you're* so sexy let's get it on" seriousness, I just... can't get into it. I'm too autistic to have a sorta, sex persona. So when other people do, I can't get into it. The kind of flirting that works the best for me is SILLY. I'm already way more interested in people who don't take themselves too seriously (not in a self-deprecating way, though), combine that with someone that's able to incorporate silliness with genuine "I do really want to screw you" intent, it's... wow. Because, the intent is important, too! I struggle with feeling wanted, if someone is flirting by like, joking about whether or not they were actually into me, that'd create way too much anxiety! When I mean silly, I mean cheesey pick-up lines with very uncheesey intention and weight behind it.

One of the flirts that worked the best on me was... ya too inappropriate to quote directly (which is saying something coming from me), but it was something along the lines of uh. bear pumping station. it was so fucking dumb, and part of me was aware that it was dumb, but only faintly, cus the rest of me was... gone. Like, *pantpant* kind of gone.

Right, where was I? Oh, right. With the other 2 guys, both of whom are at varying stages of very down and quite into me, I feel really mixed. Sure, I could definitely get the kind of attention from them that I'm seeking right now, I just don't really want it from them.

One guy, I can tell he really isn't getting the whole aromantic thing, and he's definitely getting into me in a way I really can't reciprocate. Also? I'm just not bonding with him on the friend-front. I keep trying, I'm just not. it's unlike me to be *this* bad at bonding with someone. Like, sure, I may not bond as deeply with someone as they do with me, in the deeper friend intimacy way, but I'm still a loving, affectionate person. On a more benign way, I can bond with just about anything. But, with him, I'm barely even feeling any *affection,* which is the weird part.

I see him as a sexual prospect, but I think it's way too mean to tell someone who's obviously quite smitten in both the friend sense and the (unfortunately) romantic sense, that I just want sex, not friendship. So I need to get up the courage to cut things off. I think. I don't really know, actually. I haven't done anything like this before.

The other guy, I do plan to have sex with him, either this weekend or next. I think we're compatible that way and he's been super thoughtful and considerate and letting me go over all the nitty-gritty of trans sex (testosterone makes things a bit more challenging, and I like going over all of that in advance, before things start feeling heady). I think we're also pretty compatible in a friend way. Not like, deep friendship, but I'm ok with that. I have enough friends like that.

The issue with him, though, is I can't really get into how he flirts. Coming to him with this kind of attention-ness wouldn't really give me the results I want.

So instead I'm shouting at tumblr to try and release some of this, cus the one local friend who could offer me the kind of attention i was looking for is busy :( sent him my cute selfies anyways.

It's... the first time we had sex, we weren't even half as close friend-wise as we are now. So there was an awkwardness there the first time that didn't exist this most recent time. but, what made up for the awkwardness was this mutual *want.* big drive, no thoughts, very much targeted at eachother. and we had almost a solid month of that leading up to us actually meeting up. It was really great. And then after, that horny affection stayed, and stayed strong, for a couple weeks after.

then he got covid in the summer and he really hasn't had the same kind of drive since. it started bouncing back late September, then he got covid again :( if my theory is correct though, I suspect by feb i'll be seeing more of the old sex drive from him.

In person he's fine, he's gotten that back more-or-less, but any kind of virtual interaction, be it nudes, sexting, or otherwise, has very little impact on him now. He will, happily, do it anyways. Because he loves riling people up, and he knows that he can rile me up very well. It's intellectually stimulating for him, vs. fulfilling his sex drive or using what I'm sending to get off to. And that took me sometime, and a lot of talking this through with him (and tears. was a hard time) for me to feel fully comfortable with that disparity. I finally concluded that if he's enjoying himself, even if it's not in the same way I'm enjoying myself, it's still good.

But without the inner physically-driven motivation, his attention span barely holds up for it. So he'll be flirting hard, working me up, then he'll get super distracted in the next minute and we're back to talking about ffxiv or sending memes.

Anyways, I really really wanted the same sort of lead up before him coming over, and it sorta happened, but there's been none of the same... aftercare is the wrong word. But, similar idea. mutual decompression, I guess? "Hey, that was really fun last week, I still get turned on thinking about it ;3" was pretty much most of our conversations after the first time. I didn't realize how important that was to me til it didn't happen this time.

So I have this kind of, floating, sexual-leaning neediness with nowhere for it to go.

[azucanela]

being zuko’s s/o would include hcs?

BEING ZUKO’S S/O [GENDER NEUTRAL!READER]

BEING KORRA’S S/O | BEING SOKKA’S S/O

SUMMARY: being zuko’s s/o from the confession to the weddin’ [say this but make it rhyme the way those singers do ya know]

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, very mildly implied nsfw, soft zuko, a dragon

A/N: these are gonna be extensive bc there is no scenario but if you want whole fics there are like 6342 zuko fics coming since everyone is a zuko simp. also wow this is really long um i hope its what you wanted!

GETTING INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

you guys have probably known each other a long time, because homebody does not fall for just anyone, so if you become the object of his affections, you better feel HONORED. hehe honored 

i feel like it takes him a lot of time to actually accept his feelings for you are beyond platonic. the main reason he falls for you is probably your consistency in his life since thats something he tends to lack. like his mom? gone. his dad? kicked him out of the only place he ever knew. his life is filled with major changes so if you guys have known each other since childhood then consistency is key

once he realizes he likes you he kinda panics because what if you don’t accept him? what if you leave? even worse, what if you leave because he likes you? so now he’s panicking, and naturally, as one does, Zuko avoids his problems. You, being the problem. And his emotions, but he is in denial so

definitely talks to his uncle about the two of you A LOT, especially when he is first figuring out his feelings and trying to figure out what to do about them

his uncle is an elite wingman, constantly tries to get the two of you to be alone in the same space or get information out of you in regards to you

when it comes to confessing i can see a few situations

situation one is that zuko confesses completely by accident, freaks out, disappears, avoids you even more, like homie is a mess. after you get fatally injured, or maybe when he thinks you are asleep, or he just kinda blurts it out in conversation when you guys are doing something domestic. regardless, it is entirely by accident, and now zuko is freaking the heck out. 

“i really like this tea.”

“i really like you.”

“excuse me-”

“i goTTA GO FEED MY DRAGOn Y/N!”

“you don’t have a dragon!”

so that’s how zuko gets his dragon from LOK, storytime over

you kinda have to find him and get a word in before he runs off because he is really scared of rejection, he doesn’t want you to leave and assumes that if the situation is never addressed then you can’t leave woohoo problem solved. 

his uncle yells at him lol

when you corner him you gotta confess super fast and handle his anxieties because he is super worried about you hating him now even though it is the opposite. 

“please don’t leave me.”

“i’m not gonna leave my boyfriend.”

“your- your what?”

“we are dating now. i like you, you like me, so we are dating.”

situation two is equally chaotic, but far less dancing around the feelings since you confess! congrats! you have more balls than me! im so proud! good job bb!

when you confess, its probably late at night, a comfortable silence between the two of you, or maybe he’s ranting about something, like how dumb the concept of tea is idk. regardless this is DOMESTIC, so it’s soft and cute and you are just like you know what screw it this nerd is so easily flustered by me maybe he likes me back! look at us cuddling like a couple! might as well make it official!

zuko.exe error, not working

you broke him good job. 

he externally panics and internally congratulates himself while panicking. he is very shocked you feel that way for him because he is an oblivious boy. 

“honestly, i don’t understand why my uncle likes those flavored water leaves so much-”

“i don’t understand why i’m in love with you.”

“WHAT.”

if y’all were cuddling on a bed or smth he THROWS YOU OFF BY ACCIDENT SKJDHJFHKHWJKF oopsie, he just gets up so quickly that you kinda go tumbling.

homie literally asks you why so naturally you gotta start listing all of these reasons why because hes like perfect and beautiful and yeah we all love him a lot :D marry me zuko <3

you gotta give him a hot minute to process all the information you just gave him, he is in shock for a short while, kinda just sitting there confused. once it gets through his thick skull that you like him he’s gonna thank you 💀

then he’ll ask you how you wanna handle this and boom you have a boyfriend now good job! 

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

dating during a war is hard so when y’all first start dating, probably towards the end of the war when he finally joins the Gaang, its gonna be really chaotic and you guys are still gonna be sorting through everything, like what kinda couple do you wanna be? neither of you know

kisses are rare during this time, especially since zuko is a generally private person who doesn’t really do PDA much, especially since he wants to avoid teasing and judgement from others. he’s a real people pleaser at the end of the day, he literally spent three years of his life looking for someone the world thought just disappeared permanently because he wanted his dad’s validation.

when you two do kiss, it tends to be a night in your shared tent, even then Zuko is weary of Toph’s seismic senses.

his kisses tend to be soft and sensual, he really just wants to take his time and enjoy it. however, bb does have a temper so you can expect some spice on occasion when he gets frustrated.

this comes later on in the relationship, once the war is resolved, but that just brings about new problems! like having to deal with the new fire lord who is always busy as your boyfriend!

especially at the beginning, when he’s newly crowned and everything is busy and new and he’s struggling with being organized, he rarely has time for you. however, you are likely his right hand, main advisor, general, whatever your area of expertise is he will find you a position in the castle, unless you tell him you want to stay out of politics. though, deep down, he wants to give you a position so he can spend time with you

once things calm down and he’s got being fire lord in the bag, he starts blocking in time during his day to actually take you out on dates and stuff

at one point just disappears for the whole day with you and everyone thinks he’s been kidnapped until they realize you aren’t around either

that’s not very responsible of you guys smh you have a nation to run 

is soft with you, though zuko’s temper definitely lessened when he became Fire Lord, but it no doubt shows itself sometimes, but never with you

well need your assurance sometimes because he gets insecure

like why is the beautiful amazing intelligent woman dating me i do not understand what the heck why have you not left me yet

knock some sense into him

also gets worried that he is a horrible ruler and wants you to tell him that he in fact does his job very well

did you forget you helped end a war zuko?

kiss. his. scar. give him love, its one of few physical parts of himself that he is insecure about and if you kiss him there he might start crying because wow intimacy didn’t know what that was

speaking of intimacy, he is a touch starved boy so when you start giving him love do not stop, never deprive him of cuddles he gets grumpy

lol play volleyball with him

very domestic??? like his parents highkey did not like eachother so now he just wants to hold your hand, lay with you in the morning, wake up to your pretty face, and just cuddle with you while you read aloud 

overall you two are a power couple and zuko simps for you 25/8 you rule as a team and he values you and your opinion VERY much, tries to take you out as often as he can despite his VERY demanding job, and expresses his love to the best of his ability

MARRIAGE N STUFF

zuko took the throne YOUNG he was like 16, so he is not proposing until y’all are at least adults, but i imagine that he is probably gonna wanna date you for like at least three years before proposing

he wants to make sure you are there to stay even if you’ve been around since childhood

there are two ways he is gonna propose here

situation one is where he kinda just does it,,, randomly? like out of nowhere he realizes that w o w he wants to marry you, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you and dedicate everything to you because you are HIS forever person

so he’s kinda just laying with you in the morning, nice soft kisses here and there, will not let you leave the bed and you are definitely complaining, especially if you have a position in the palace and need to get to work

regardless its a soft moment, there’s light filtering in through the window in your shared room, and its shining on your face, and yeah you are lowkey a mess because its the morning but you are just,, so,, beautiful??

and you start telling him about your plans for the, playing with his hair and stuff, and he’s listening to his heartbeat when he breaks from your hold and looks up at you and is just like

“marry me.”

“we also need to feed your dragon- wait what”

you are kinda just in shock for a moment, so you sit up and look at him, mouth gaping open like

“are you serious?”

he suddenly realizes he doesn’t have a ring and it is 7AM in the morning and it is not the best time for this

“...yes”

now you are laughing, falling back onto the pillows, and maybe there’s a tear in your eye as you nod rapidly, “okay, yes.”

now you are thinking of the fake story you are gonna tell people when they asked how he proposed because you are NOT saying it was in bed at 7AM while you were looking like a whole mess

“yes? yes as in yes you will marry me? are you serious?” 

such an idiot, but he’s cute its okay

you kiss him and its passionate and adorable, and he kisses back but he quickly breaks apart and is like “you’re sure? because i don’t have a ring-”

“how have you successfully run a country.”

“good thing you are gonna join me on the throne i suppose.”

“oh my god you’re right-”

“you aren’t reconsidering are you?”

“NO.”

have fun being the fire god woo

now y’all go back to making out and traumatize whatever advisor comes to check on you because they’re like where are the people who rule this country??? 

situation two is where he has been carrying around the ring for MONTHS but is looking for the perfect time to propose because you are perfect so this must be perfect

he couldn’t sleep and in the middle of the night he was like WELP I WANNA GET ENGAGED and kinda just decided he was gonna marry you

since you were asleep he couldn’t ask you right then and these

confides in the gaang and everyone is super excited

now he’s been walking around with this ring for months and what is he supposed to do now oh god

the gaang is like stop procrastinating bro, just ASK HER, and hes like NO IT NEEDS TO BE PERFECT

they help him set up the palace courtyard and make it all nice, there are lanterns, and candles, and a path of rose petals, and this time around he does have a ring so yes its great

he’s like hey let’s go for a walk! and you’re like okay??? lol

so you two are walking around the palace, holding hands, when he leads you to the courtyard and you are just like DAMN this is romantic AND pretty

“i think we are interrupting Zuko let’s leave”

“what do you mean interrupting-”

“well someone clearly put in a lot of effort!”

“that someone is me!”

:O

its not that he isn’t romantic its just that he’s never done something like this so now you’re confused

“did i forget our anniversary?”

“no.”

NOW you understand, looking around, you turn back to him to find that he’s on one knee, you two are in front of the pond with the turtleducks and wow it must be raining why is there water on your face? haha...

he tells you he loves you and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and how he hopes he never loses you because you are just so vital to his life and his being and everything he’s done to make this world a better place has been for you and damn zuko you wonder if he got possessed

obviously you agree

and obviously something goes wrong

when he stands you tackle him with a hug and you two fall into the pond

oops 

the wedding[disclaimer: i have never been to a wedding so i do not know what happens in weddings, feel free to educate me pls] is either REALLY intimate and private, or really big and stuff, since you gotta go through that whole coronation process now and like public weddings n stuff

no matter what his uncle is the one who walks you down the aisle.

change my mind.

you cant. 

the intimate one is almost similar to eloping, probably happens in the court yard where he proposed, and you are wearing a AMAZING outfit, whether its a tux, an amazing dress, a jumpsuit, you gonna look FIRE

hehe fire

anyways it’ll probably be the people who fought with him in the war, the gaang, the white lotus, kyoshi warriors, maybe a few others, 

its a really nice ceremony, and the courtyard is decorated so beautifully, though Zuko considered putting a fence around the pond considering what happened when he proposed lol

if its a more public wedding, then its going to feel like the entire Fire Nation came to watch y’all get married, much more flashy, there’s a band performance, a banquet, y’all gotta use the ballroom so that everyone can dance 

kinda nerve wracking ngl

regardless, after you two get married nothing really changes because you always acted like an old married couple, and even as the other ruler of the fire nation, you always had an important job in the palace so its kinda just the same but more official

its a vibe

moral of the story is zuko is a simp for you and your marriage is mutual simping, that is all

A/N: i kinda went off ngl, also im about to hit 200 followers and i feel as though i should do something special so i am taking suggestions pls

taglists[lmk if you wanna be added or removed :D]

zuko: @shawni-h @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @outerxorbit

permanent: @chewymoustachio

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #2: One Heck of a Twist: Mirio Togata

In which Mirio experiences two new things in the same night. 

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged up characters, oral sex (f-receiving), strong language, mirio being an absolute ray of sunshine, spoilers for The Empire Strikes Back

Notes: Congratulations! You survived day one! Welcome to day two of Kinktober 2020. Allow me to introduce you to my absolute favourite character to write. Seriously. Count how many times his name appears on my Kinktober masterlist. It’s a problem. Both characters are adults, even if they’re schmucks. 

Today’s prompt is ‘Eating Out.’ Bon appetit!

“I can’t believe you never knew that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker’s father!”

Your exclamation is almost loud enough to draw looks from the rest of the crowd as you filter out of the movie theatre into the damp evening. The city’s glazed by a sheen of rainfall, but it’s as fine as mist and the chill is welcome against your theatre-warmed cheeks.

After finding out that Mirio had never seen Star Wars, you took it upon yourself to show him the original. And when he liked it, you found an independent theatre downtown showing a rerun of The Empire Strikes Back and made a date of it.

“How could I have?” He defends, grabbing your hand so you know he’s keeping it playful. “I’ve never seen it before.”

His hand is as warm and strong as ever, and you feel as safe holding onto it as you might if you were wrapped in his arms.

“Even so,” you continue, “that’s, like… the most common piece of movie trivia knowledge on the planet. How long have you been on this Earth for? And how long has Star Wars been on this Earth for?”

“Well, I know now,” he chuckles, tugging you a little closer by the hand as your shoulders bump. “And it was one heck of a twist.”

This whole holding-hands-in-public thing is kind of new to you, and you’re not quite past the butterflies stage. Then again, you’re pretty sure you’re never going to get past the butterflies stage with Mirio. He’s warm and masculine, funny and charming, but so kind it hurts sometimes. You’ve already been dating a couple of months and he still manages to surprise you all the time.

Take tonight, for instance.

“You must be the king of avoiding spoilers,” you tease, nudging his shoulder with yours again and feeling warm and fulfilled when your bodies connect.

You chat quietly the rest of the way home, walking close to ward off frost in the early fall darkness. For a romance that blossomed in the heat of midsummer, the two of you are weathering the changing seasons smoothly. Then again, you’re pretty sure nothing could ruin him for you at this point.

Silence settles coyly between you as the door of your apartment building draws closer. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent the night, but it was the first time you’d actually planned it in advance. The rush of nerves you first got when he showed up with an overnight bag is as fresh as ever, and by the time you get your keys out there’s heat creeping down your neck.

He stops you on the landing with a hand on your arm.

“Hey,” he rumbles, and when you turn back to him he’s standing a couple of steps down from you. He tugs you gently toward the edge of the landing and kisses you so soft it makes your toes curl. These days, every kiss feels like the first one all over again and you let your palms rest against his chest, falling into him.

“Let’s go inside,” you whisper once you’ve pulled away, pushing your forehead forward against his. You can feel the way his chest rumbles with his chuckle and you grin, push off his chest and grab his arm. You make it up the second flight of stairs in record time and he slips his arms around you from behind as you fish for the right key.

He changes gears seamlessly- shifting from sparkling eyes and sunny chuckles to pushing you inside and easily against the nearest wall, kicking the door shut and towering over you.

You ask yourself who the hell you were in your past life to earn this.

“I wanna try something with you,” he mumbles as he draws his nose tenderly up the side of your neck- just a little chilled against your warm skin. You shiver, hard, and you’re pretty sure you would agree to anything right about now.

“Okay,” you answer dumbly.

He responds in kind, slipping his hands under your denim-clad thighs and picking you up effortlessly- so fucking strong. You reward him by cupping his cheeks and kissing him silly while he feels his way into your bedroom, toppling forward onto the bed with you and caging you in until you force your mouth from his, breathless and gasping.

“First things first,” he says, drawing back. He unlaces your boots and lovingly pulls them off, taking your socks with him. He toes out of his own shoes and then he’s on top of you again. His weight and warmth is a world of its own, all-encompassing and complete.

His shadow passes over you, but instead of your lips he goes for your neck, sliding one knee between your thighs as he lets his mouth wander.

He’s already pushing you out of your jacket and nudging the neckline of your sweater down with his chin to nibble at your collar bone. You whimper, shoving your hands into the folds of his coat and wedging it off his shoulders, and he rears back in kind to shrug it off.

Mirio slips his hand up the side of your thigh, fingers just brushing your waistband. He hesitates for a minute, then pulls away again with a bashful expression in the dim light.

“My hands are pretty cold,” he admits. He blows sheepishly into his palms and rubs them back and forth a few times, then presses one to the crook of his neck. He bites his lip, thinking, then he’s on you again.

“Much better,” he purrs, and this time he’s not shy about sliding his fingers under your sweater, dancing them up your ribcage and selfishly thumbing the side of your bra. He uses his elbow to push the hem of your sweater up a little and his face finds home in your neck again.

“Can I?” He mumbles and you melt all over again.

“Go ahead.”

Your sweater comes off in a swath of cotton-blend, and he’s still wearing a t-shirt but you can feel the warmth of his body as he gathers you back into his arms. You’re so in love. So in love. So in love. It’s becoming a real problem.

“You’re so pretty,” he groans, and you giggle, slotting your hips as casually as you can against his. His body stutters against yours and his next breath comes out shaky.

Incredible.

“You said you wanted to try something,” you mumble. He’s holding you so close that your lips brush his hair as you speak, and you nuzzle a little deeper into the blonde mess. Happy to muss its perfect style.

“Right.” He jumps and pulls back, bracing himself on one arm to look down at you with the moon in his eyes. He grins, wolfishly, and suddenly your nerves are spiking again.

“Lemme go down on you.”

Your chest lurches. Hard. For a solid few seconds you don’t say anything, circulating the words inside your head to make sure they mean what you think they mean.

You hear the quiet echo of your name fall from his lips, and when your gaze re-focuses he’s peering down at you with such concern that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong.

“I… uh. Really?”

He laughs. Your cheeks go hot.

“Yeah, really.” He peeks up at you through heavy lids and if you weren’t already horizontal you might have swooned. “Been thinking about it a lot.”

“Okay.” You’ve gone dumb with shock, but he’s picking up the slack, kissing across your cheekbone and digging his thumb into the waistband of your jeans. He flicks the button open smoothly and drags down the fly. You plant your feet and he wiggles them off, grabbing the strap of your black underwear and tugging that down, too.

“Oh-kay,” you sigh again, fumbling with the clasp of your bra as he gets on his belly and slides his hands under your thighs. You push that last garment away and then you’re bare and his breath is there and it sends goosebumps racing straight up your arms and spine.

“God, you’re even prettier down here.” There’s no scrap of innocent charm left in his voice anymore. It’s all raspy baritones and husked little quips from here on out. He hooks one thigh over an elbow, dragging his fingertips over your hip before circling a thumb against your clit. It’s not much, but you’re drowning in him. You were ready to go by the time he got your jacket off.

“F-uck,” you stutter and your upper body gives out, your shoulders and head diving into the pillows behind you. He lowers his head and noses playfully at your thigh. You feel him smiling against you. Then he turns his gaze and just looks at you.

“Lemme taste you, princess.”

Then he licks.

“God,” you sigh, and where he was smiling against your thigh before, you feel him smile against your slit. He does it again, only this time he groans into you- letting the sound vibrate through his chest and all the way down to the tips of your toes. Your back arches clean off the bed and your thighs twitch. He digs his fingers into them, keeping you still.

“Keep going,” you urge, just in case he wasn’t abundantly sure that you were enjoying this, and he takes the note in stride. He settles into an eager rhythm, drawing his tongue up your slit a few more times before his tongue settles over your clit. If it was tender before it’s electric now, the easy flicks and swipes making you dig your feet into the mattress and slide your fingers into his hair.

Both hands comb through the gelled strands as you bite your lip hard and try to figure out what you’re going to do with all this pleasure. Your hips buck smoothly into his face as he keeps a steady pace, and your eyes are screwed shut but you know he’s watching.

His tongue swipes the right spot at the right time and your breathy little sighs shift from heady and high to guttural and clear, and there’s no way you’re holding back when it turns out he’s pretty fucking good at this.

“O-ohgod – there!”

You feel him pause for a heartbeat, but he’s quickly refocusing, repositioning to take the same angle as before. And where he swiped once he’s suddenly laving again and again, and his arms tighten around your thighs and it’s going to be tight but you’re getting there.

“More,” you plead. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Right there. There, there, there, y-“

You babble, but as soon as it hits you the sound dies in your throat. Your climax tips over like spilled wine and everything goes white while waves of pleasure wash over you. You’re pretty sure you’re grabbing his hair and pulling hard, but he doesn’t seem to mind, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight, licking you over and over until you’re squirming underneath him, pushing his head away with a whimper.

Your eyes shift open. The clouds part. He sits up slowly, licking his lips as he eases into your field of view. There are waves of absolute bliss lapping at your extremities and you do not miss the way he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, sending a fresh throb of arousal straight through your spent body.

“So?”

He breaks the silence as he settles onto his side beside you, resting a hand on the column of your belly.

“So?” You laugh loosely. “When were you gonna tell me that your mouth’s good for more than just talking?”

He’s laughing again and nuzzling you, so loving and tender you might almost forget how thoroughly he just rocked your world.

“I thought it’d be better to show you.”

You turn your head and kiss him. He groans- you’re not shy about tasting yourself- and you roll over, dragging your palm down the front of his shirt. He’s a confident shit when you’re putty in his hands, but irresistibly adorable as soon as the ball’s in your court. You can’t wait.

“In that case,” you growl between kisses, “I think it’s my turn to show you something.”

[bluegarners]

By popular demand, I have written a Part 2 for mainstay for @viceturtle. Thank you so much @newsical for being an immense help with this!!

Part 1.

This chapter was inspired by this conversation between @bigskydreaming and @fuyunoakegata

ao3

There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness. 

He thinks everyone has at least some degree of it within themselves. A refusal to move or consent to something. Sure, some don’t hesitate long. They give. They bend. They break. But the stubbornness is in that hesitation. That moment of ‘Am I really doing this? Should I be doing this? Why in the world should I do this?’. It’s about the pause, is what he’s trying to get at, that makes stubbornness so inherent to each individual. 

It breathes in the form of grudges. Arguments. Games of she-said-he-said-they-said. Right or wrong. I told you so’s and I’m not sorry’s. 

Jason does all of those things like it's second nature. He’s not going to pretend like he’s some saint who can understand the other side and reason with them. If he thinks he’s right, it’s not a matter of if the other person is actually right or wrong. He knows he’s right, so it doesn’t matter in the end. He knows what he knows, and if he doesn’t— whatever. Immovable object and all that.

So, yeah. There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness. 

He calls Red Robin anyway.

“He’s gone.”

“Sorry, what? I need context for this. There’s a lot of people this could apply to—”

“Dick. Dick is gone.”

“Oh. Like, just now he left?”

“I don’t know. Some guy came and took him.”

“As much as I love vague conversations, this isn’t helping me and I don’t understand why you’re calling in the first place.”

“Dick is fucking. Gone. What do you not understand about that.”

“Jesus, I don’t know, Jason. What, is he not supposed to be gone? He said he was going to leave again. He already said ‘hi’ to Damian, so I don’t see why he would stick around any longer.”

“Hm.”

“Fuck me, didn’t you know? This was all just- just some visit for him. Sure, he’ll be back eventually, but fuck knows if he’s actually—”

He hangs up. Pockets his phone. Listens as the rain continues to drench the world outside of his little apartment. His shoulders hurt. There’s a bruise on his chest. Right between his fifth and sixth ribs. He has a split lip. He put ointment on it earlier but it still stings. His knees ache. He has a distant memory of his mother complaining about her knees too. Something about the weather making them act up.

He’s twenty-three.

He’s getting old.

On the table next to him is a box of cigarettes. Low-tar. Filtered. In his right pocket, there’s a lighter he got from someone years ago. He doesn’t know. Maybe he stole it. Found it. 

He pulls it out. Shakes a cigarette out of the thin box. Holds the paper wrapped nicotine between his lips, lifting the lighter and thumbing the flink strike. 

Click. 

He shakes the lighter. Tries again.

Click.

Gotham hasn’t had this much rain in a long time. It’s nearing October. Maybe it’s in season or whatever weather does. He doesn’t know the term.

Click.

It’s raining outside. Jason can see it. There’s raindrops on his window. He can hear it clattering against the fire-escape. Gray and black and mixes of yellow from street lamps below. Jason is inside on the comfort of his couch. Sure, it’s not the best apartment, but it doesn’t leak. The ceiling is fine and he hasn’t had any problems with it before. His face is wet though. He doesn’t know why.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The cigarette falls from his lips and lands with a thud on the stained carpet. The T.V is on. Says the storm over Gotham will last for the next few days. An unprecedented seven inches of rain predicted. The GCPD is advising everyone to stay indoors. Crime is expected to rise with the water levels.

Click.

His clothes are still soaked. He’s probably ruining his couch. He can’t remember if he took his boots off or not. 

Click.

Jason sighs. His chest feels heavy, like someone is sitting on top of him. It’s just him though. Only him in his apartment. He likes having his own space. The neighbors get loud sometimes, but it’s not as if he’s a five star resident either. It’s always been like this. He is…. Alone.

Click.

Dick was gone. Came back. And now, Dick is gone again. Did he do that? Did he drive him away? Is this his fault? Jason doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. Doesn’t know if he doesn’t care at all, but at least the rain is nice to listen to. Yeah. The rain is really nice. Consistent. Steady.

Click.

He didn’t take off his boots.

 ~oOo~

One month is all it takes. 

One month and Nightwing is out spotted in Bludhaven, his photo splashed across every news outlet from Gotham to Metropolis. New Jersey missed its boy in blue and cheers at his return.

Nightwing stays in Bludhaven though. Red Hood stays in Gotham. Just as it used to be. Back to normal. Yeah.

The rain stopped a week ago.

Jason misses the noise.

 ~oOo~

“Won’t you come?”

“No.”

“Please, Master Jason? We would love to have you here. It has been too long.”

“I can’t.”

“I thought you loved turkey. There’ll be plenty of leftovers and I know you’ve been meaning to return the tupperware from last time. It’ll be good for you to leave that apartment of yours.”

“I have better things to do than play nice and talk politics in Brucie Wayne’s mansion. I’m not coming.”

“I know you have your own quarrels with Master Dick, but—”

“It’s not about him. I don’t give a fuck about what he’s doing or what stick Bruce has up his ass this time. I am not walking into the line of fire just to save everyone else an evening of beating around the bush. I. Am. Not. Going.”

“. . . Then won’t you at least visit? I miss you. I worry about you.”

“I’m sorry, Alfred.”

“I am too, my boy.”

  Click.

 Jason spends Thanksgiving out in the Narrows. He’s not rich, doesn’t want to be, but he has money. Plenty he doesn’t need to spend on himself. He goes grocery shopping. Fills two, three carts worth of canned food and rotisserie chickens. Goes home, carries the bags in all at once. Organizes them. 

Single. Partners. Family.

He leaves his apartment. He is not Jason Todd. He is not Red Hood. He’s just some guy out in the Narrows. 

He hands out the bags. Has the decency to look the people in the eyes, knowing he was that street kid once. Seeing his mother in each dirty, beaten face he comes across. Pitying the drunken men and the addicts. They accept his offerings. It would be stupid not to. No one says thank you. He doesn’t need them to.

He goes home. His arms are sore. The bruises have completely faded.

The apartment is empty.

  Click

 Sometimes, there are days where he doesn’t know why. 

That’s a big concept: why? 

He thinks it carries too much weight. Maybe if he had survived past tenth grade, he could’ve signed up for a philosophy or debate class, maybe shed some light on that particular question, but he didn’t. Survive. So, he only has his own mind to ponder the concept. He’s read a couple books. Never fully understood the words he read though. He would’ve liked to, but he didn’t. Understand. 

But it’s up to interpretation right? So, here’s where he’s at.

Jason doesn’t understand or know why sometimes, and it becomes a problem.

He doesn’t understand why he got such a bad hand for parents. Why Bruce didn’t grieve like Jason wanted him to (so desperately yearned for, screamed for, died for). Why someone thought it was a good idea for him to live out a second-still-the-same life. Why he came back so different. (Was he? Different? He doesn’t think he came back wrong but he doesn’t know a lot. Well, he does. But, if he came back wrong then that means he wasn’t right to begin with and he’s always right and if he’s wrong then—). 

He doesn’t know why he punched Dick. He didn’t want to. Not really. But he did. Want to. Badly so. Wanted proof, wanted penance, wanted forgiveness, wanted retribution, wanted that sting that comes with reality and the regret of a little something called mortality. Horse drawn carriage alongside Death, patting the seat next to it. 

Okay, he knows why .

He doesn’t understand why, though.

Jason doesn’t understand why he gets so angry sometimes. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right, like he’s supposed to be feeling something else but he’s just flipped upside down so there’s no point in trying to right himself. He’s always right anyway. Yeah. Yeah.

He doesn’t understand why he says things, why he opens his mouth at all when he regrets them so quickly after. He yells a lot. Raises his voice and spits mean words and cusses worse than anyone else he knows and regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. But he doesn’t learn. Doesn’t rethink it, doesn’t look back and remember the lesson he taught himself. You can’t be taught if you’re always right anyway, so what’s the point? Why regret it when he’s just going to do it again? 

That’s a big word: why.

There are answers attached to the word. Reasons for the question being asked. Explanations and solutions and resolutions.

Jason is good at solving problems, is quick to work around it and get the job done. And a question is just a problem being asked, right? It’s verbal, that’s the only difference, so if he’s such a good problem solver, if he’s such a goddamn good thinker and understands things like philosophy and literature and great big concepts and words—

Why did he do that? Why did he say those things? Why can’t he make up his fucking mind? Why is he the way he is? Why does he just push and shove and drive away everyone and everything? Why did he come back different? Why did he come back wrong? Why didn’t Bruce love him enough to end things? Why was he worth a second chance when he screws up and regrets so much? Why do people still fucking try with him? Why can’t he get one goddamn thing right? Why is he always—

Click.

“Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

Click.

Red Hood is in Gotham. Nightwing is too. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. The air is cold and there’s ice in the wind. It’s a clear night. A quiet frost coats the rooftop and Jason can hear his brother’s footsteps.

“We missed you, you know. Here, Agent A wanted me to give you these.”

Jason turns. Dick is holding out a duffle-cooler. He stands six feet away.

“They’re just leftovers. Turkey, sweet potatoes, casserole, pie; the fixings.”

Jason doesn’t move. Neither does Dick. To anyone else, it would look like a stand-off between Nightwing and Red Hood, neutral ground tensions. They both know it’s not.

It is cold and there is ice in the wind and the rainy season is long past. When they breathe, it erupts out of them in the form of white vapor and Jason can only think of the fact that it looks like smoke. His lighter still doesn’t work. It sits in his right pocket. He wants to take it out. Hear the click. 

“There’s some beer too,” Dick adds softly, voice carried away and twisted in the sharp air. “I have a bottle opener.”

Nightwing walks a few paces away to sit against an A/C unit, shielding himself from the wind. He sets the cooler down beside him, unzipping the duffle and pulling out two bottles of a brand Jason doesn’t recognize, and pats the space next to him. Horse drawn carriage. 

Why is a big concept. A big word. Maybe one of the bigger questions in the repertoire. 

He doesn’t know nor understand why he takes the offered seat. He just does. It feels right to do so. Jason takes the offered bottle too and opens it himself. Hands back the blade. Takes a sip.

It’s cold. It warms him. 

He doesn’t understand:

“Why?”

Dick swirls the alcohol around, bubbles rising to the surface. “Why, what?” 

There’s a lot of things Jason could say. Could ask. He’s had two months to think about a question that would fit the answer he’s trying so hard to get; one that would satisfy the cavern that just keeps getting wider and wider, this empty presence that digs deeper inside him. He likes to think it would be a really intelligent question, one that would stump his all knowing brother; the one with all the answers in the world and a smile to accompany it. Dick had been on this pedestal for as long as Jason can remember. Had been placed so high above himself, even now, it’s impossible for him to reach, fingers a thousand miles away from ever grazing the top.

A lot of people would tell him he’s done this to himself. That the things he decides to do, his actions, what he says to other people and what they do as a consequence; all a product of his own creation. Even the cavern inside of him, filled with stalagmites and cobwebs and so many empty boxes, perhaps he did that to himself. He— He did that. To himself. 

But Jason doesn’t like being wrong. Doesn’t like the fear that invades every nerve in his body when faced with the possibility of being so far off from the mark that it comes back and strikes him in the face. He’s paid the price for being wrong, has the scars and the memories and the stories to prove it, but he’s also been right, over and over again, and it feels so good to be right.

It felt good to punch his brother.

It felt good to have a reason to do so. 

The anger, the fear, the possessive guilt that clung to him in those months where Dick was dead and he was at the wheel, knowing he was going to crash and burn eventually and probably take everyone with him. He played the long game and knew the end result. Jason had fooled himself with the thought of taking Dick’s place, thinking he could climb up that enormous pedestal he had placed there himself all those years ago. Torn down and resurrected today.

He doesn’t have a question though. Not a singular, all encompassing question that would piece together every missing hole inside of him and fill the void. His mother used to tell him he talked too much, that a big mouth like his would one day get him into trouble. She also told him that he was smart and curious and kind and so much more than anything she would ever be able to give him. Jason doesn’t understand why she said so many contrary things.  Wishes he could ask her, have the opportunity to finally get the answers he wanted from her when he left everything behind just for a chance to do so. He can’t though. She died. He died too.

Dick didn’t.

“Why did you leave?” 

His brother stops swirling the contents of his bottle, choosing instead to release a heavy sigh that travels into the air in a thick cloud of tired gray and remorse. “I wasn’t in a good place at the time. Leaving felt like the only good thing left I could do. Batman gave me the mission and I… I took it.”

“What part of letting us all think you were dead was ‘good’? How does that translate to ‘good’ in your world?”

“I wasn’t a part of that decision,” Dick says pointedly, setting down his beer and thunking his head back to rest against the unit. “I was still comatose by the time Batman had broken the news to everyone else. I told you, Hood, I had no choice. Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was all that made sense to do.”

He pauses, a hand coming up to scrub at the sides of his face. “Robin had just… died. Protecting me. I got captured by people with faces I’ve known my entire life and couldn’t escape them. I let myself get hooked up to that- that machine and exposed my identity to the entire world. Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to you all, had I stayed? Everyone knew who Nightwing was under the mask. It would’ve— People would have figured the rest out soon enough. When Batman offered me the opportunity to at least make something right, I took it.”

Something unsettles inside Jason’s chest. Leaking, fracturing. It feels wrong. He feels- “So, what? You left because you felt bad ? Gallivanted off as soon as the opportunity was presented? Oh, I’m sure you’d love to do that again. Hey, Nightwing, tell me, are you feeling bad right now? Would you like a one-way ticket to Spain? I bet that’d make you feel much better.”

Dick frowns, head swiveling to look at Jason. “If that’s how you’d like to picture it, then fine. Yeah, I felt bad about exposing my entire family’s identities. I felt bad about letting down Batman and getting myself taken. I felt bad about dying and not being—”

“Quit fucking saying you died! You didn’t. You put on a good show, I’ll give you that, but having a model that looks just like you being buried in the ground doesn’t qualify as you dying. Get the fuck over yourself.”

A sharp crack meets his words and Jason snaps his head over to see Dick’s bottle broken against the ground, the older man having knocked it over with his hand.

Nightwing’s white lenses are staring at him and Red Hood meets his gaze unflinchingly, if only for the reason that he can’t see his brother’s eyes. There was something to be said about clear eyes in a city full of smog and endless voids, and Jason has looked enough people in the eye to know when to blink and walk away. The dark does not have a gaze to collapse within and yet there is empty white surrounding them.

“Come with me.” 

Why is too big of a word.

 Jason follows anyway.

He’s at the end of his rope in asking questions he knows no one will be able to answer. Knows that the answer he wants is not one anyone is willing to give, or even can give. See, Jason knows why. Has an understanding with the concept in a personal way unlike anyone else will ever have. He knows, understands, gets exactly what the question demands with all of its little fallacies and conundrums and ever so many follow ups. If he could, Jason would shake hands with it, an agreement to never speak a word of its existence ever again. But, how could he ponder the question when he himself cannot bear to fathom his own existence?

Nightwing is already scaling down a fire-escape, duffle-cooler slung over his shoulder, and Jason watches his head disappear below the roof line. He stands up, feet numb and hands feeling bitten, and side glances the broken bottle and the one he’s leaving behind. Even with the bleak, gray weather, the glass twinkles and shimmers in the ice, and, just faintly, Jason can smell the alcohol in the wind. Gotham is a city filled with muck, grease, scum, and litter. There is no difference in adding their own to the ever increasing pile, and yet Jason cannot help amend himself with the thought that at least their trash is beautiful in the cold.

He walks over to the edge of the roof, peering down to where he can see Nightwing traveling up a different, rusted ladder, ready to seek a new vantage point for wherever it is he’s decided to lead Jason. He doesn’t have his helmet on tonight, just a plain domino to hide his face, and the frost cuts against his nose and lips. A shiver runs through his body and Jason slides down into the alleyway below, keeping his brother in eye-sight. Nightwing launches a grapple, clinging to another building about 200 meters away, and Red Hood follows suit, the chill buffering inside of his jacket.

They arrive at one of those motel looking buildings, the outward appearance completely abandoned. Bruce had built this many years ago, one of the first of several safe-houses, and for all intents and purposes, it served to only attract the kinds of people that knew how to keep their mouths shut. The “general office” is where Dick walks into, a separate facility from the boarding rooms. He waits for Jason to enter, having taken a back door of four inches of solid steel, and locks it behind them once the younger has entered as well.

Dick throws the duffle onto one of the chairs inside the room, and rolls his shoulders in a circular motion, a long sigh escaping him. Somewhere, Jason can hear the heater kicking on.

He thumbs his lighter.

Click.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing, waiting by the door for Dick to make the first move. His brother says nothing though, continuing to move his joints around and rub his hands furiously together. He doesn’t even glance at Jason as he leaves the main room, entering another side door and into, what Jason assumes is, a bathroom. Left alone, Jason keeps his boots on and sits down.

Click.

He waits. Peels off his mask and winces at the pull on his skin. Rubs at his eyes and forehead. Sighs.

Click. Click.

He stares at the domino in his lap, regretting having taken it off. Dick could look him in the eye now. He didn’t— He doesn’t like that. You only look people in the eye when you want to convey something, be it emotion, honesty, or purely how much you don’t give a shit. Jason doesn’t know what it meant when he looked at all those people in the Narrows a few days ago. Doesn’t know what it meant when they looked at him. Who was he, then? He was no one. No one. 

Click.

The bathroom door opens and Dick steps out wearing a thick tank top and a long pair of joggers. Just beyond the cracked doorway, Jason can see his Nightwing suit hung up against a rack. The remnants of irritated skin also pepper his brother’s face, red and splotchy. 

Dick looks up and meets his gaze.

Click.

“This the part where you try to argue yourself right?”

His older brother frowns. “No, it’s not.”

Jason looks away.

Click. Click. Click.

“What’s that in your pocket?”

“Just some old lighter. It doesn’t work.”

“Ah.”

The stiff silence reverberates between them. Normally, when conversation isn’t invited, Dick would go off somewhere and find something to do; something in his head urging him to seek out an offering. It was a tactic the older man used often, something to hold or something else to focus your attention on making an otherwise shaky atmosphere comfortable. When he was still Robin, it was a ploy Jason found himself enjoying sometimes, where Nightwing would meet him on some pre-designated roof carrying hot chocolate or donuts and Jason would gripe to the older man about Bruce’s latest restriction or Batman’s newest growl. Their conversations would last well into the night and it was their secret they kept together, a fall-back to go to when things were too uncertain or days were too long.

Those memories were nice. Fond, even. 

Dick does not have an offering this time.

“Did you believe I was dead?”

Jason sucks in a breath, fingers stilling against his lighter. “Yes.” Pause. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Jason fires back. “It was on live television for Christ’s sake, Dick! Half the world watched you die.”

“It’s not as if doctored film has never been done before, even if it was live. At some point, it cut off too. I’ve watched the video myself. My death wasn’t shown on screen.”

“There was audio. I could hear your heart stopping on the machine.”

“There was a lot of fighting going on. It was chaos.”

“Fine, I didn’t see you die and the video was shit. But Bruce told us you were dead. Batman told us you had died.”

“And Batman doesn’t lie.”

“Fuck you.”

Dick sighs, leaning back against one of the walls. “Look, I’m not trying to pick another fight with you. I don’t want to.”

“Then what. Do. You. Want,” Jason grounds out, rising from his chair. “I’m sick of this. I am so sick of not knowing what the fuck is going on with you and Bruce, with all of your little secrets and fake-deaths and—”

“It wasn’t fake,” Dick interrupts, standing his ground. “It may not have been for long, but my heart did stop. I died in that machine, Jason, and I’m upset you guys accepted that.”

“Well, what the fuck else were we supposed to do?” Jason erupts, flinging his arms wide. “Fucking poke at your body until you were alive again? Wait next to your corpse in the morgue with your suit on hand, just in case you decided to wake up?”

“You could’ve at least doubted, ” Dick hisses. Jason can hear the heater still humming. The room is cold though. Bitter. “At the very least, you guys could’ve looked into it. Bruce isn’t the perfect, untouchable beast we’ve made him into. He left a trail. A trail that would have led right to the fake body he created while I was comatose. A trail that would have shown the Batmobile needing repairs it shouldn’t have needed. A trail that would have shown the documents he forged to get me into Spyral. There were so many things, Jason! So many goddamn things that would have shown you guys I wasn’t dead!”

“If you wanted to be found so badly, why didn’t you tell us?” Jason snarls, that leaking fracture in his chest pooling into his lungs. “Why didn’t you say a single word if you were so desperate for someone to notice?”

“I already told you,” Dick says quietly. “I needed to make things right. Bruce offered a way to do it and I needed that; the space, away from everything, everyone, in my life that I knew I had failed. I don’t regret it, and I am sorry it caused so much pain, but—”

Click.

“—was it really so wrong to want someone to save me?”

The leak implodes and Jason stops breathing.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“I know it sounds ridiculous. I should be able to handle these things, but I— there was this moment where I convinced myself that none of what was happening was real and that it was all some nightmare I was watching.”

The blows had stung and burned in the way only rusted metal against bone and flesh could. His left eye was bleeding and his nose had been broken long ago. After the thirtieth strike, Jason had somehow convinced himself it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t there, in that old warehouse, and that he wasn’t some child-soldier-hero being beaten to death by a maniac who laughed and giggled at his pain. 

“When I woke up, I really believed that. I-I was so convinced and then Bruce showed up and gave me this mission and, god, Jason, how could I have ever said no? I had failed. Bruce told me I failed. ”

He remembers that sadistic clock in the corner. Silent up until the last ten seconds. It had its own little tick, a click, and it was the stupidest looking bomb Jason had ever seen, bright red and just any old alarm clock with a few extra wires. A nightmare. All just a nightmare and Jason had begged the universe for him to wake up. For someone, anyone, to save him. For Batman to come swooping in and rescue him from his stupid fucking mistakes but—

Click.

Dick breathes out, a shuttering exhale that rocks him to his core. “Spyral, the mission, everything after… It was my penance, I think. Bruce’s way of forgiving me for failing. There was just no other way, Jason. It was all I had left. I guess I had just hoped someone was still in my corner, even after fucking it all up, you know?”

He does. Jason does know with a clarity that haunts him every morning he wakes up and finds the events unchanged. There are cobwebs and old boxes inside his cavern, the place where his soul used to be, but he knows. He knows he came back wrong. That he came back different. That something inside of him was missing when he opened his eyes to mystic green and an emptiness that plagued him until he came back to Gotham; rage, fear, and a deep sadness taking up that empty space inside of him. He doesn’t know how many times he’s asked himself ‘why?’ only to ignore the answer given to him. Too many. 

And maybe Dick has asked that same question as well. Maybe he has his own cavern deep inside of him, filled with his own fragmented cobwebs and starved crates, ghosts that continue to follow his every step, and whispers that forever ring in his ears. Perhaps the dead carry memories and questions wherever they go, and perhaps that is their sole purpose. They only stay to recount and wish and want and only breach the word “if” and “maybe”. 

But they are alive now. They live. They breathe. 

Jason thought death connected himself to his elder brother, but perhaps it was the voids inside of them both that bound them together. The desperation that clung to their beings, seeking approval, seeking retribution, seeking out anything that’ll make them feel whole once more after having been stripped bare and left in the throes of Death's carriage. This was the tie that bound them together. It wasn’t Bruce. It wasn’t Robin. It wasn’t death.

It was simply the missing pieces inside of them. Brothers not by blood, but by the very nature of their search for meaning. And that was all.

“Yeah,” Jason says, the molten gravity of this answer leaving him boneless. “Okay.”

Dick stares at him with the same clear eyes he’s looked at his younger brother with since day one. Something passes behind those eyes, a shift in the monumental focus that is Dick Grayson’s ever present gaze, and the heater continues to thrum in the background, just as ubiquitous as Gotham always was and always will be for them. There was a fundamental alteration inside them both, something taken from them that can’t be replaced, and Jason feels as though he is not alone anymore. There is another presence, another existence, in his life full of betrayal that shares the same scars and the same emptiness that has captured him since the day Bruce stopped hoping for him.

“Okay?” Dick repeats quietly, and Jason can hear the echo inside his chest. “Is that all?” 

“No,” Jason murmurs, easing back into the chair he had left. “No, it’s not. But I… I can’t do more of this right now. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t either,” Dick sighs, the exhaustion from his own ordeals weighing down his shoulders and causing him to slide down the wall. “It’s— I never wanted to, Jason. You know that, right?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I guess- We deal with it, right?”

Jason wants to laugh. Maybe give a little less weight on his back to the warm air around them, but it sounds like a lot to do. He exhales instead, something maybe interpretable as a tired grin lifting his mouth. “Another time, then?”

Perhaps that is a statement that can’t be guaranteed nor promised. Time is scarce in their world, more so than anyone else's, but it is a scarcity they are well accustomed to. Death had departed in Its carriage, the seat left warm by their presence, but for now, they had left and that was all that really mattered. Why they left, why they need time they don’t have, why the caverns inside of them exist. All questions that have been answered before. Maybe when the sky isn’t gray, or when the rain isn’t pounding against fractured ceilings, they can begin to make amends and go from there. But the safe-house is warm.

It is warm.

“Another time.”

[sorenskyhigh]

How the Haikyuu boys would get their s/o out of their zoom meetings (for example, pretending that they are getting kidnapped and getting dragged off screen) My sister did this before and my teacher was cracking up. THANK YOU BEST FRIEND :)

YES! I love this! Imagine if they took you on a sweet little date afterwards and you both just mess around all day!!! o(≧∇≦o) and thank you so much for supporting me!!!!!

Also I want to apologize for not writing anything, there's been a lot going on and I've just had no will to do anything ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

Includes Daichi Sawamura, Koushi Sugawara, Asahi Azumane, Yū Nishinoya, Tetsurou Kuroo, Kenma Kozume, Toru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Koutaro Bokuto, Keiji Akaashi, and Satori Tendou

Not proof read

Getting You Out Of Zoom Class

Daichi Sawamura

Daichi may end up being a cop and he may seem like a stickler for the rules, but........

He is super smart

And I definitely wouldn't put it past him to break some rules here and there

Daichi knows you hate the particular class that you're sitting through right now

The teacher was an ass and the class was just not your forte

Daichi was sitting just out of shot and you angrily scribbled down notes. You knew you could lie and make excuses for why you didn't do the work but, your conscious just wouldn't allow you.

Every once in awhile Daichi would reach out a soothing hand under the table and rub his thumb a couple times over your knee to sooth you.

At one point Daichi got up and just stood there for a second.

He intook a large breath before picking you up out of the chair and swinging you over his shoulder.

Hus face appeared in your camera and he just smiled wide and said, "Sorry, they've got something more important to do."

With that he left, not even bothering to turn off anything before he walked out to the kitchen with you and started making a lunch for you two.

Koushi Sugawara

We all love our chaotic Sugamama

Suga though isn't exactly theatrical person

What he would do would be simple and easy but very effective

Koushi was in your kitchen making a cute little brunch for the two of you. He had set everything up in your living room.

Nice, comfy nest on the floor, open windows, a short table to set everything on.

You had been particularly stressed since you had had to start online classes. A lot of people could learn this way, but, you just couldn't

You were busy working and didn't notice when your feed cut out and froze then turned off.

He had asked Yamaguchi what he could do since Yamaguchi was surprisingly good with electronics.

He had gotten into your account and was messing with it. Somehow, since a computer and and his laptop were trying to use it at the same time it genuinely messed it up but that was a worry for later.

"Awww c'mon!" You said before you screamed in surprise.

Koushi had popped up from under your desk,"I think you need a break."

Asahi Azumane

Asahi is a super nervous guy, we been knew

But when he saw just how stressed his little baby was over your online classes

You were sitting in your living room on the floor, all your stuff spread out. You looked like you were spread so thin as you tried to keep up.

Suddenly your front door slammed open and big guy in a mask came in and snatched you up and took you outside after shutting your door.

You were of course until you got outside then you both started laughing.

Asahi had gone over this with you many many many times es just to make sure you were okay with it.

Aftwards he also kept worrying over you on whether he hurt you or not.

Nishinoya Yū

You know this boy would go all out for this

As loud and wild as he can make it

Yū had decided to be as obnoxious as possible. It was simple, yet highly effective.

Not only did you have to turn off your mic but your teacher asked you to turn off your camera as well.

Yū wasn't just a auditory nuisance but a visual one as well.

As long as he could be seen or heard he would either be being a pest or too funny for anyone to concentrate.

After your teacher had asked you to cut off your sound and camera you both obviously left.

Yū wanted to go and eat your entire fridge while you watch horror movies.

Tetsurou Kuroo

You know this man would bring in straight facts

He would cut down any of your teacher/professors excuses as to why you had to stay

"Too much time on a computer, phone or TV screen can cause serious retinal damage. If they can't see then they can't do the work you want them too. Life would be so much harder for them if they lost their sight."

With that he hurriedly turned off your computer and rushed you out of there so you guys could hang out and watch probably an animal science documentary.

Kenma Kozume

You know this boy is tech proficient

He would have your computer so screwed

Why even try

You go to get into your class but the potato filter is on and you can't fix it.

Your teacher is angry at you bc 'you're young and apart of the generation that grew up with this technology so figure it out and blah blah blah.

You're struggling so with the sound, you sound like you had just sucked on a can of helium.

Then the loud celebratory noise emitting from your computer and an all too familiar voice came over and said, " Not today, pudding." Then your entire computer "crashed".

Kenma entered the room very queitly as you sat there.

"It's not broken. But if you don’t play video games with me I won't fix it."

Toru Oikawa

This twink ass drama queen

I pity whoever dates this man if you have to take zoom classes

You know he would be super dramatic about it

You're sitting at your chair and are dutifully taking notes when your bedroom door is flung open.

There stands Toru.

His hands are on his hips and he's pulling his little pouty face.

"Now, little cutie. You have been ignoring me for weeks."

You look at him as if he had lost his mind. You just talked to him this morning.

"If I didn't know ow any better I'd say you had the hots for someone in that class!" He was slowly raising his voice.

"I thought we were happy?! I love you and I wanted to marry you."

Disconnected

After he had unplugged you're entire computer he giggled and kissed you, "Sorry little cutie, I just hate to see you so stressed from those stupid classes."

Hajime Iwaizumi

He gets enough drama from Shittykawa

So he's not going to create any of his own if he can help it

But he did think that video of someone "kidnapping" their friend was pretty funny

You were in the kitchen with a glass of water when Hajime very quietly came in. You had just baby heard your front door close.

He held his finger up to his mouth and pulled a bandana up over his mouth.

He skillfully it over him since this wouldn't be the first time you had had distractions from your friends during class.

You were curious about what he was doing.

Then all of a sudden you were grabbed from the side, the stool falling over as Hajime shut your laptop.

He carried you outside where Shittykawa, Mattsun, and Maki were waiting.

"No more classes for today."

"Yeah you get to have just so much fun with us," Maki said sarcastically.

Koutaro Bokuto

This man

This MAN

I love him to death but not only would he get the entire team in on it but he would screw it up somehow

You were on your bed with your laptop on a blanket in front of you as you listen to your teacher drone on and on and on.

Then you shrieked when your bedroom door was thrown open and three fairly big guys came rushing in.

Naturally you screamed in fear.

Koutaro was the one carrying you as the Konoha turned off your laptop and Akaashi stood there. He was so not with this.

The thing is, Koutaro didn't tell you on purpose so your reaction would be genuine enough to fool your class.

He got you so upset that Akaashi, Konoha, Anohori, Komi, Onaga, Sarukui, and even Washio were chastising him for it.

They weren't having his dumb shit today, no sir.

He made it up to you though, so did the rest of the team.

Keiji Akaashi

After dealing with Bokuto for what felt like a lifetime

He wanted to keep things simple and easy

Akaashi had just walked into your room while you were sitting at your desk.

He had pushed your chair out of the way and simple turned everything off. Saving any documents you may or may not have had open first of course.

Then he took your hand and he took you to a nice and quiet Cafe where you guys spent the rest of the day.

Satori Tendo

Itcha miracle boi

You know that when he starts to make you leave ethe teacher say soemthing he will fight them ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ

He's ready to dish it out

Straight up insults them

You were sitting in bed with your laptop while Satpri was sprawled across your lap.

He hadn't disturbed doubt thus far. He was actually being very well behaved.

Thankfully with how you and your laptop set up, no one saw him chillin' like a villain in your lap.

That is until he groaned and started to whine about how boring it was.

Your teacher addresses you and scolds you for having Satoir there.

"Why, it's not like I'm distracting you. You're not doing anything anyways. Let's leave, my Paradise."

After that Satori had a long argument with your teacher, your teacher very clearly losing. More than half your class was losing it at this point.

"Look, you abarrent brat,'" thats when you got mad.

"Excuse me? What did you just call him??!!" You slammed your laptop shut after that.

@kneecapstealingalien @multifandombrainrot @vaniatslover @popcorntime-doodles @i-need-coffee-now-pls @jiheonity @shadowsbutdead @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @ghostexhibit @smallmangi @thatfunnysprout @backalley-astrologer @itsallgonnabokayihope @g00s3 @boreateo @all-around-fandoms31 @weareallhumans123 @lil-mellow-bunbun @strawberrymakki @beelziee @mehreenackerman @taiyahhh @sakusasgerm @cr4z3d-cl0wn @detective-bakugou @mainnews32 @turtletris2tumble @oshun22 @syirahtorizawa @wouldsimply31

[smarchit]

How Lucky We Are pt 2

Summary: A continuation of Look Around, Look Around. Mando and Reader continue their adventures with their young children.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any warnings... Violence, maybe a little blood?

The Crest shut down in a docking bay on a bustling planet just before dusk. 

Already, you could hear shouting and trading still going on even as the light disappeared from the horizon. 

"Welcome to Coruscant," Mando said as you leaned over his shoulder to look out the window as he sat the cockpit. 

"What a skughole!" you lamented.

"Filled with the exact people you'd expect too," Mando said evenly. "Just... Keep your opinion about the planet to yourself if you know what's good for you."

"Y'know, I liked you better when you took me to planets with waterfalls," you teased, leaning up as you he powered down the engine.

Mando grunted as he stood up and for a moment, you were worried you might have offended him. But he turned to look at you and for a brief moment in the bright light of the hangar, you saw the outline of his chin and jaw - if you imagined hard enough, you swore he was smiling.

"Coruscant is fun, provided you don't have a planet attached to your stomach," he replied, playfully bumping his arm against your shoulder as he passed by to check on the sleeping babies.

"You took all that time to come up with a reply?" you chuckled, reaching for your sling bag.

Mando shrugged. "Does it help if I say I'm rolling my eyes?"

You snorted and shook your head.

"Not by much."

He hummed and closed up the Child's pod and then moved to open Trin's. Both children were sound asleep, undisturbed by the light filtering in from the window.

You gently picked her up and kissed her forehead before placing her in her swaddle.

Mando picked up the tracking puck and made sure you were ahead of him as he left the ship, the Child snuggly tucked into the crook of his elbow. 

As you walked through the streets, Mando kept an eye on the people around the four of you for any sign of trouble. More often than not, the people here didn't mean harm, but with two babies, he didn't want to risk it and have something happen.

"Where are we going?" you whispered, pulling Trin a little closer as you neared an alley, sectioned off by a hanging piece of cloth.

"Just stay quiet and follow me," he murmured, keeping his hand your shoulder. "Try to keep Trin quiet."

You bit your lip and hesitated for a second as Mando urged you to step into the pitch black alleyway. 

As if sensing your discomfort, Trin began to fuss, her little face screwing up as she began to cry.

"Oh no," you soothed, "It's okay, my moon. Mama is here."

"Keep her quiet," Mando whispered, a little harsher than normal. He had a firm grip on your shoulder as he guided you through the darkness.

You stuck a finger in Trin's mouth, hoping it would keep her quiet long enough to get you through this alley.

The air smelled foul. Stale urine and sweat hung heavy in the air, the heady sent of sex stinging your nose as you passed a tent. Two or three alien women were gathered around the entrance and cooed to you and Mando as you walked by. 

He tightened his grip on your arm and guided you towards what was clearly a cantina, lively music and the tell-tale sound of a fight coming from the inside. 

"Who are we here for again?" you asked, trying to turn your head towards Mando as he all but shoved you through the streets. 

"The smuggler," Mando said gruffly as you approached the cantina. A woman with lavender-colored skin and nearly as tall as she was wide stood at the door. It took nearly all your courage to not shove Mando down and take off running in the opposite direction. 

She took one look at you and the Mandalorian and scowled, her massive arms crossed over her chest.

"I don't think so," she scoffed. 

Mando stayed quiet. You knew him well enough to know he was trying to form a plan under that helmet of his and you knew from experience that it usually ended up with him on his ass in the dirt. 

You decided to take control like you had back on Nevarro. 

"Please," you said, trying to make yourself as weak-looking as possible. "I'm looking for my little brother - I've looked everywhere! Can I please take a look inside?"

"You, fine. Not him," she spat.

Mando grumbled something under his breath. 

The bouncer grabbed him by a pauldron and lifted him off the ground all before you had time to even react. Her massive hand could completely cover his helmet and you didn't want to find out what she could do to him. 

"What did you say, tin can?" she growled, bringing him close enough that her breath fogged up his visor.

You held up a hand to try and stop her before things got out of hand. Already you could see Mando trying to reach for the flamethrower at his wrist. 

"He's my bodyguard!" you shouted. "My father hired him to accompany me while I searched for my brother! Let him go!"

The bouncer grunted and let Mando fall to the dirt where he, as you figured would happen, landed on his ass.

Once inside, Mando gestured to a booth next to the kitchen and lead you across the floor to it. You knew you were being watched from the moment you stepped inside. You were sure it wasn't often a Mandalorian graced this cantina with their presence.

You checked on the Child and on Trin while Mando surveyed the room. Both, thank the stars, were sound asleep, undisturbed by the chaos around them. Mando faced the door so he could watch all activity and not be caught off guard. Vaguely, you remembered him saying something about that while stopped on a random planet while you were about six months pregnant. 

"It's easier this way. I'm never caught off guard when I sit this way," he had said.

"That thing have a sensor in the back?" you asked, your hands curled around a cup of soup. 

"No. I didn't get that upgrade." There was a slight hint of a smile in his voice.

"Seems dangerous."

Mando shrugged and glanced off towards a group playing a game in the corner. 

You raised your hand to try and fling a piece of potato at him when he spoke. 

"Don't even think about it. I can still see you."

Now, Mando's attention was focused on a group of women playing Sabbac, the whole scene so reminiscent of the one where you attempted to toss your lunch at him. 

"Any of those our bounty?"

"Our bounty?" Mando drawled sarcastically, his helmet lazily moving in your direction. "No. Though I do think I recognize a few of them. No -- we're looking for a bald woman with a tattoo on her face."

You quickly glanced around. "So we just wait?"

"Yes." There was a pause and then, "She'll be here later."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes."

You sighed and ordered yourself a small plate of food while you waited. You knew sometimes Mando could be gone for days at a time while tracking a bounty. Only accompanied him once or twice before on an actual mission. But that had been long before you actually were hindered by your... Delicate position. You weren't sure if you could call your own capture being on a job with him, but the memory if it made you smile anyway.

"What?" Mando asked, turning his head an imperceptible fraction towards you.

"Just wondering how many of your bounties you find in cantinas," you hummed, bouncing Trin in your arms. The Child still slept beside you in his blankets.

Mando hissed a laugh through his vocoder amd shook his head. "Enough of them where it's usually the first place I look. You didn't exactly make it a challenge for me," he said.

"Nah, I just gave you a moral dilemma."

"You wouldn't be the first," he said softly. 

As the evening wore on with no sign of the bounty, conversation between you both dwindled down to nothing after a while and you leaned back against the booth, Trin and the Child still asleep in your lap. You had gotten up early to feed Trin and play with her - coupled with you chasing the Child around for the better part of the morning, you were exhausted.

Just as your eyes drifted shut, Mando nudged your foot with his boot to get your attention.

"She's here," he said softly, nodding in the direction of the bar.

You followed the gaze of Mando's visor to the newcomer. 

A broad shouldered woman in a thick canvas jacket had slid between two patrons and barked her order at the droid behind the counter. Her head was shaved, and when she turned her head slightly, you could see part of a tattoo on her cheek.

"What are you going to do?" you asked, leaning forward.

"She spotted me on her way in. She's biding her time," he replied. "Probably formulating a plan. I want you to wait outside."

"What? Why!"

"Please," he said softly. There was something in his voice that made you automatically reach for the babies. Urgency. You'd only heard it a few times before. He was nervous. "Please wait outside."

You bit your lip and took Trin and the Child - still sleeping, and side-stepped through the crowd. 

If Mando wanted you to take your chances out on the streets of Coruscant instead of inside a bar, it was probably about to get ugly.

You turned away from the yellow light of the cantina and tried to find a small spot to hide out in until he was finished.

Doing your best to ignore the noise coming from the cantina, in addition to the bustling street around you, you found a spot under a street lamp by a closed vendor stall. It was near an alley, and you hoped no one would sneak up on you as you waited.

It felt silly, just sitting here. You wanted to help him. He had done so much to help you in the past year.

Maybe he would train me to fight. I've felt helpless for far too long. I'm ready.

Trin began to stir and fuss in your arms. It had been a long time since you had changed her and she was probably hungry as well. The Child, hearing her cries, woke up and started tugging at your sleeve. 

You cast a glance at the cantina and then behind you at the alley. 

I'll only be a few seconds. 

Picking up both babies, you ducked into the alley, trying as best you could to keep an eye on the streets for Mando in case he came out.

You got Trin changed and cleaned and untied your dress to feed her. The Child held tight to your leg as he stared into the darkness of the alley.

"What's wrong, little one?" you asked, bending down to pat his head.

He made a soft noise, almost like a whine and stared up at you before he pointed to the back of the alley.

"You shouldn't be here," came a deep voice from the shadows. "It isn't safe."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to shield yourself from the voice. "I'll be out of here in a few minutes."

"You need to get off this planet," came the voice again. It sounded closer, though you still couldn't see anything.

"I'm waiting for someone!" you replied, glancing nervously towards the street. You bent down again to scoop up the Child, but he was gone. You felt your heart stop and you yanked Trin away from your breast; you felt her little teeth dig in to your nipple as you pulled her away. She gave a sharp scream as you quickly covered yourself. "You stay away from me! I'm... I'm armed!"

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already," the voice said calmly. "I want answers."

"What do you want?" you asked, kicking yourself for how afraid you sounded.

"Where did you find the Child?"

"She's --- she's mine!"

The man huffed. "No. Not that one. Him."

"Please don't hurt him," you said firmly. "His father--"

"Where is his father?" he asked sharply.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's working."

"Where?"

"Around."

"Then I'll just keep this little one."

"He's at the cantina!" you shouted. 

The man stepped into the dim light of the alley. You swallowed thickly - the man was a beast. At least a foot taller than Mando and twice as wide. He was appeared much, much bigger than he was by the heavy, deep green armor he wore, and his face was concealed by a helmet with a familiar visor. 

"Are you a Mandalorian?" you asked, holding an irate Trin close to your chest. 

"Maybe."

"Why are you--"

"Where is he?" this new Mandalorian asked. He had the Child in the crook of his arm, much like how you had seen Mando hold him. The Child was smiling and cooing, relaxed in this stranger's arms.

"Across the street."

The new Mandalorian jerked his head in the direction of the cantina. "In that one?"

You nodded meekly and watched as this giant stalked past you and into the street. The crowd parted around him with ease. It seemed everyone wanted to give him a wide berth. 

You followed him, not wanting them to get away if he took off with the Child. At least this way, you could have a clear shot of following him. Stars, if this man didn't kill you, you knew Mando would if he found out you lost the Child.

"Kriff!" you swore under your breath. Mando was waiting outside the cantina, one hand clutching his shoulder. The body of the smuggler lay at his feet. You could tell by his body language that he was scanning the crowd, searching for you.

He straightened up when he spotted the mountain of a Mandalorian carrying the Child.

You made it to Mando long after the larger man did, thanks to the crowd jostling you and shoving their way past you in their attempts to scurry to their destinations.

Both men turned to face you when you finally made it through the throngs of people in the streets.

Mando called your name to get your attention. 

"You're bleeding," he said softly. His voice sounded strained and tight. He sounded hurt.

You glanced down and saw a deep red stain where Trin must have tried to latch on when you pulled her away. 

"Oh, it's-- I'm fine."

Mando grunted and took the Child from the large man's arms.

"This is Sherruk," he said, nodding at the man. "He is a--" Mando hesitated -- "A friend. He helped me protect the child on Nevarro."

"She is the one we heard about then?" Sherruk asked, nodding at you.

Mando nodded and adjusted the child in his good arm. "She is. I trust her with the Child."

"She doesn't look like much," Sherruk grunted.

"She is quite capable," Mando replied, sounding irritated. "And far stronger than you or I."

Sherruk snorted and turned to you. He nodded in your direction. "Not even my riduur could do what you have done." He turned back to Mando then. "Need some help with that shoulder, vod?"

Mando made a soft grunt of pain, barely audible through the visor. "Please."

You took the Child from Mando and stepped back to give him some room to turn and face Sherruk.

The huge man took Mando's shoulder in one massive hand and pressed his other hand against his back plate of armor. There was a sickening crack and a pop after Sherruk jerked Mando's shoulder back into place. Mando grunted in pain and staggered forward after Sherruk let him go. 

"See you around, vod," Sherruk said. He gently touched the Child on the top of his head, nodded at you once again, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Let's go," Mando said tightly. He reached down and grabbed the smuggler around her middle and hoisted her over his shoulder.

Not wanting to cause a delay, you followed behind, saving all your questions for when you got back to the ship.

TAGLIST (let me know if you want added or removed): My tags didn’t work so I’m sorry if anyone got tagged twice or already read this chapter and got tagged. I’m just working off my list!!!

@miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @someplace-darker @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @poeticparker @blackbird337 @the-last-twin-of-krypton @divineangelix @c1996 @mell-bell @qhbr2013 @bookszazzy @marvelbros-oneshots @cuteboyking @boomtownboy @connor-challoner @fandom-lover-4 @itsmysticalmystery @love-struck-aries @lifeisapitch15 @cosmicwhisper @hybrid-huntress @whatismylife00 @remmyswritings @yodaboo @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mcrmarvelloki @lcandothisallday @ry0t @ravenclawbitch426 @keichainn

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

Previous

AO3

Another Sunday, another chapter. Hope it’s a good weekend for you all, despite these uncertain times. I always intended this story to be a bit of fluffy light relief from the real world. Thanks for all the support for it.

There will probably be another 3 chapters after this, depending on how the characters behave. I cant seem to make them do what I want sometimes!

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Chapter 11: From Marriage to Mackenzie

It’s 1pm and I’m in a hotel room, still in a bathrobe, sipping Buck’s Fizz whilst a hairdresser wrestles with my wayward curls, finally managing to corral them into some sort of recognisable hair style.

Geillis is sitting on the edge of the bed incongruously dressed in tiara and bathrobe, her hair arranged in an elaborate updo. I catch her eye through the dressing table mirror and smile before my vision is obscured by a miasma of hairspray.

A few final tweaks of my curls and it’s done. I am just amazed that my hair can be cajoled into such glossy, bouncy curls, held behind one ear by an ornately decorated comb. With suitable compliments and thanks, Geillis and I bid goodbye to the hairdresser.

The bride stands up and adjusts the belt of her robe. She seems the epitome of calm.

“Are you not nervous, Geillis? You’ll be walking down the aisle in about an hour’s time.”

“Weel, I am a wee bit worried about a couple of things,” she admits. “I dinna ken how ma cousin Janie will behave. She may try tae proposition every man under the age of seventy five. And as fer Dougal’s Uncle Eric—he has been known tae get steamin’ drunk and puke in the rose beds. But about the marrying? Nah, I dinna have any nerves about that. I want tae spend ma life wi’ Dougal and that’s what today is all about. I have nae worries about making that commitment. He’s the one fer me. When ye ken, ye ken. Trust me, Claire.”

The pocket of her bathrobe begins to buzz. She quickly pulls out her phone and reads the message.

“I’d best go. That was Mam, fretting about something or other. Are ye ok getting dressed on yer own?”

“I’ve managed for the past twenty nine years or so. I dare say I can manage another day.” I sigh theatrically.

“I ken. Ye can manage on yer own. Ye always do. But thanks fer being here with me today. It means a lot tae have the people who mean the most tae me around,” she leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “But remember what I said, Claire, when ye ken, ye ken. Dinna ignore it.”

Pausing at the interconnecting doorway, she does a quick body shimmy and grins. “Woo hoo! I’m getting married. Canna believe it’s here now,”

From the adjoining room, I can hear a shouted response. “Geillis Duncan, ye get here now. Yer mam reckons that makeup lassie has done her eyeliner wonky. It looks fine tae me. Can ye come and talk some sense in tae the daft cow?”

“Alright, Da, I’m coming.” Geillis yells back before leaving to deal with her parents.

I sit down and study my bridesmaid’s dress, now hanging on the wardrobe door. I’m getting excited about the day ahead. Probably not as much as Geillis, obviously, but a host of butterflies appears to have taken residence in the pit of my stomach.

I’m truly thrilled for Geillis to be marrying Dougal—they love each other so much. But, also, it’s scary to me. She is willing, eager even, to commit to one person, to base her future life, her future happiness on one man. If they should ever leave…well, I’m not sure I’d be able to cope with that. If you love too hard, you can hurt too much. Trust me on that, I know. People leave you. Don’t give your heart to anyone, keep it hidden away, protected…intact.

The ping from my phone diverts me from this somber train of thought.

I’m downstairs at the hotel. Can you come and say hello?

I quickly type:

Come up to the 2nd floor. I’ll meet you by the lift.

Making sure the keycard is in my pocket, I slip my feet into the hotel’s complimentary slippers and shuffle out to meet Jamie.

I’m already waiting as the lift door opens and he emerges. My first thought is oh wow, as is my second...and third. He has made an effort for this wedding, and it’s certainly paid off. Eschewing the more formal Prince Charlie style, he’s wearing a charcoal grey jacket and waistcoat, perfectly matching the grey in his kilt. A crisp white shirt and burgundy tie complement the secondary colours in the tartan. His sporran is black leather, heavily etched or embossed. I can’t quite make out the detail. Then I feel myself blush as I realise I have been clearly staring at his...er, lower body. I look up quickly.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to have noticed. He looks me up and down and smiles. “Nice outfit,” he comments drily. “Is the bride wearing white towelling too? What’s the theme? Salon chic?”And is that part of the design?” He points to an orange stain on the front of my robe. I pull a face and tie the belt tighter, trying to tuck the offending piece of material out of sight.

“Must have spilled a drop of my Buck’s Fizz.”

“Drinking already? Dinna be staggering down the aisle.”

He reaches out towards my hair and pauses for a second before making a random circular motion with his hand. “And this…I like yer hair. It’s verra…verra…” he searches for the word. “... asymmetric.”

“Thank you,” I hold the ‘skirt’ of my robe and bob a little curtsy. “That’s totally what we were going for—asymmetric.”

He laughs. “Nah, seriously. Yer hair and yer makeup look grand. I’m sure ye’ll look lovely in yer dress.”

I gesture to my room. “I’d best finish getting ready.”

“Aye, I’ll see ye downstairs.” He presses the button for the lift.

“By the way, you look grand too.” I try to say it in an understated way. It’s true, but I don’t want him to read anything into the statement.

The lift arrives and he steps inside. As the doors close, he fires a parting shot. “Especially the sporran, eh?”

*********

Now in my bridesmaid’s dress, I practice a couple of pirouettes in front of the mirror before hearing a quick knock on the door to the adjoining room.

“Ye ready, Claire? Mam’s jes’ gone down. Only us three left.”

I walk through to the other room to be met by a riot of open suitcases, bags and boxes. A variety of towels, dressing gowns and footwear seem to be carpeting the floor.

“‘S ok,” Geillis’ voice comes from behind me. “It’s no’ ma problem. I’m no’ sleeping here tonight. I’ll be in the bridal suite. This’ll be Mam and Dad’s room.”

I turn to see my best friend now fully dressed and ready. Her father is hovering next to her, clad in kilt and full formal regalia. I always knew she would win that battle.

As beautiful as she looks, the thing that really strikes me is the way her father is watching her, with such love and pride. She returns his gaze and brings her forehead to rest against his cheek.

I swallow hard, fighting the desire to shed a tear. It’s such a precious image, so intimate, but also, I realise that, since Lamb died, I have nobody, no father figure, to share something like this. I feel a momentary pang of, not jealousy, but a feeling of regret over an emotion that I will never get to experience.

And then, just like that, the moment passes.

It always does.

Geillis passes me a creamy white posy tied with a simple ribbon and gathers up her bouquet of peonies, roses and fragrant eucalyptus.

“OK,” she takes a deep breath and breaks into a huge grin. “I think I’m late enough tae get Dougal jes’ a wee bit nervous. Time tae roll.”

*******

The hotel’s orangery provides a perfect setting for the wedding ceremony. Softly diffused sunlight filters through the white muslin drapes at the large windows. A slight breeze wafts the fabric gently, giving tantalising glimpses of the formal gardens outside.

At the end of the room, Dougal and Angus stand beside a large arch of succulent green foliage, staring straight ahead as Geillis and her father begin the procession down the aisle with me following.

Even before he turns to look, I can spot Jamie — his auburn curls are head and shoulders above those around him. He stays still at first, but as we draw near he turns around and grins before doing his funny blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes, which I have learnt, is Jamie’s attempt at a wink. I return his smile before focussing on the arch getting ever closer.

Dougal appears rooted to the spot, but Angus turns around and watches for a moment before giving me a perfectly executed wink. I smile politely even as I shudder inwardly. The sheer self confidence of that man is beyond belief. Then he disappears from my thoughts as Geillis reaches the arch and passes me her bouquet to hold. The joy on her and Dougal’s faces as they prepare to make their vows is wonderful and I’m so happy to be a part of it all.

***************

They say the sun shines on the righteous. Well, Geillis and Dougal must be exceptionally good, as it’s a perfect summer afternoon. It’s beautifully warm, but not too hot, as all the guests mingle in the gardens, admiring the beautiful surroundings whilst drinking chilled champagne.

The photographer has finished with the formal photographs, so I’m allowed to relax and enjoy a glass or two. I can still spot him wandering around, ready to take more natural, candid shots of the proceedings but nobody seems to mind.

I was initially worried about inviting Jamie to the wedding for a couple of reasons. The first was my friends. Of course, my friends are great, but Anna and Mary can sometimes have an issue with boundaries and I had visions of the ‘conversations’ they might try to have with Jamie — ‘nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition’ unless Anna and Mary are around.

The second reason was that Jamie would literally know only one person at this wedding —me. And that, when I was off doing official ‘wedding stuff’, he would be on his own, billy-no-mates. But, as I look around, I realise I had absolutely nothing to worry about on that score. He has the knack, it seems, to get on with everyone.

At the moment he’s talking to Geillis’s father, laughing and joking like they’re old friends. He notices me looking at him, lifts his empty glass up and points to me. I hold my glass up and nod. He excuses himself and strolls towards the bar.

There’s a slight touch on my elbow. “Hello, dear.”

I draw my attention to the old lady standing next to me—Geillis’ great aunt Frances. I’ve met her on a couple of occasions before and have always enjoyed her company. She’s a straight talker and makes no bones about it. “When ye get tae my age,” I remember her commenting to me “ye dinna have time tae beat about the bush, ye need tae say what ye think.” I like that in a person.

“Hello, how nice to see you.”

“Ye too,dear. I must say ye’re looking awfa bonnie in that dress. It’s a fine colour on ye.”

“Thank you. And you’re looking lovely yourself.”

Frances makes a self deprecating ‘hmph’ sound, dismissing my compliment with a wave of her hand. “Away wi’ ye. Ye do yer best wi’ what ye’ve still got. Which isna much in ma case.”

I shake my head. “Not at—“

But she decides to change the subject and moves on with her next question. “Is that yer young man over there?” She points at Jamie, heading towards us with two glasses of champagne. “He’s a handsome chap, is he no’? Mind ye, that’s no more than ye deserve. Sae, mebbe ye’ll be next?”

“No, we—“

I have no chance to say anything more, before Jamie is by my side and handing me one of the glasses. I take a sip as he notices that Frances has no drink and, without hesitation, he passes the second glass to her.

“Aren’t ye kind… er?” She accepts gratefully.

“Jamie.”

“Weel, Jamie, let me tell ye. It’s been a long while since a good looking young man has brought me a drink. I should make the most of it. Anyway, I was jes’ saying tae our Claire here, how bonnie she looks today. Does she no’?”

She fixes her gaze on Jamie, demanding an answer.

“Aye, she looks lovely.” His eyes meet mine for a second, before I look away and try to change the subject.

“Don’t you think Geillis looks beautiful, Frances?”

But, it seems that Frances has one line of conversation that she is keen to pursue. “Oh aye, she does. But, Jamie, I was jes’ saying tae Claire that mebbe she’ll be next. What d’ye think?”

Fortunately, I’m spared any response as a gong sounds and the maître d’ announces that dinner is served and that everyone should make their way inside to the dining room.

****************

Having narrowly avoided any embarrassment, I am somewhat apprehensive to see Frances at our table. Fortunately, Geillis’ cousin and baby are enough to divert her attention away from any matrimonial prospects that may or may not be on my horizon.

With Jamie sitting by my side, I catch him up on all the behind the scenes activity of my day and we fall into our pattern of easy conversation and gentle banter. From time to time, I can see Frances, opposite, watching us with a look of approval on her face, but she says nothing.

Once the speeches and toasts are over, there’s a palpable change in the guests. Jackets are draped over chair backs, sleeves rolled up and waistcoat buttons undone. I can spot more than one woman moving awkwardly in her chair, struggling to locate the shoes that were eased off out of sight under the table. Cheeks become flushed with an abundance of rich food and tongues become looser with a surfeit of fine wine.

I sip my whisky, savouring its peaty smokiness. Jamie is in a serious rugby related conversation with his neighbour. A rustle of fabric behind me announces the arrival of the bride, a look of frustration on her face.

She greets the table politely before whispering “Can I borrow ye, Claire?”

I make my excuses and follow her into a quieter room.

“What’s up, Geillis? Is everything alright?” I’m concerned that there’s something genuinely wrong.

“It’s his bloody family,” she hisses. “The Mackenzies, if ye give them an inch, they’ll take a fuckin’ mile.”

She takes a deep breath and continues. “Dougal invited his second cousin Gary and his wife tae our evening do. Jes’ the two of them mind. Sae they turn up an hour and a half early and try tae cadge dessert and brandies from the waiters.”

“Where are they now?”

“Och, they’re sitting outside wi’ a couple of spare bottles of wine.” She gestures angrily to the gardens visible through the window. “And they’ll be first in the queue fer the buffet this evening, nae doubt. And what's more, they took it upon themselves tae bring their three bairns too. Weel, I say bairns, but they’re all in their twenties so it’s no’ as if they dinna have a babysitter.”

She finally sits down and lets her shoulders relax.

I take her hand and try to look serious. If this is the worst thing that happens today, that’s not so bad. Although clearly, in Geillis’ eyes, this is a catastrophe. “It’s not going to spoil anything really is it? They didn’t gatecrash the meal or the speeches,” I speak in a soothing tone. “Are you ok now?”

She nods. “Happen ye’re right. I jes’ wanted tae get it off ma chest. And I kent what I was getting in tae wi’ his family. But tae drag Gregory, Alicia and Laoghaire uninvited wi’ them jes’ pisses me off.”

I stare at her. “Laoghaire? Laoghaire Mackenzie?”

“Aye, that’s right. Unusual name, is it no’? Ye dinna find many of them around—thank god.”