#no but light I feel like it’s rare to find genuinely good shows that don’t have them homosexuals carrying

[thyblake]

Why are shows with gay people just like 10x better than any other in human existance?

Like every show with a gay person just automatically because revolutionary and has the most amazing fandoms with the most vivid, creative, awe-inspiring plots and word building.

Arcane, Good Omens, BBC Sherlock Holmes, Our Flag Means Death, Umbrella Academy, Shameless, BBC Merlin, The Last of Us, the list goes on!

But I feel like any other show, regardless of genre, just falls flat when it lacks the ✨crispness✨ of queerness. Am I the only one that thinks this?

[whatswrongwithblue]

Alastor Headcannons

Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon

SFW

Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.

Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.

The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.

He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.

That blew up in his face – almost literally.

He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.

But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.

PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.

The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.

Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.

Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.

In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.

His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.

He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.

In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.

Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.

He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.

He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.

He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.

If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.

He would never ever lay a hand on you.

If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.

Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.

At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.

He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.

Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.

That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.  

It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.

He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.

He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.

Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.

NSFW

Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.

He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.

Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.

But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.

For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.

Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.

But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.

He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.

If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.

It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.

He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.

You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.

He gets very excited when you’re in heat.

It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.

The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.

He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.

He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.

He does bite.

And slap your ass.

He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.

His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.

And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.

That’s when he dirty talks.

And that’s when he really gets rough.

You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.

And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.

They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.

And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.

He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.

You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little  . . . big.

Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.

One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.

Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.

He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.

He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.

Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.

(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my new OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)

[theodorenmyth]

Mattheo and Enzo sharing a lover who kinda sleeps very deeply to the point mattheo may joke that reader is dead in their sleep. Probably so Enzo is like “don’t say that!” Because it’s an actual thing. So now when ever reader deeply sleep Enzo and mattheo have to check their breathing

Dreams and Reality

Pairings : Mattheo Riddle x GN! Reader x Lorenzo Berkshire

Summary : Nestled between Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire, you find comfort in their warmth and presence. However, your deep sleep becomes a point of concern for them, leading to a mix of playful jokes and genuine worry. Mattheo's dark humor and Enzo's protective nature bring light to the love and care they both have for you. Through heartfelt conversations and shared moments, you come to understand the depth of their concern and the strength of your bond. No matter how deeply you sleep, Mattheo and Enzo's unwavering presence ensures your safety and comfort, reminding you that you are cherished and protected in their arms.

A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Warnings) : nothing

Word count : 1.1k+

The heavy curtains are drawn, allowing only a sliver of moonlight to pierce the darkness of the room. You lie nestled between Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire, their bodies a comforting presence on either side of you. The soft, rhythmic sounds of their breathing create a lullaby that almost sends you deeper into your already profound sleep.

Mattheo's hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his fingers occasionally twitching as if to reassure himself of your presence. Lorenzo, or Enzo as you affectionately call him, has an arm draped protectively over your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck. The warmth of their bodies is an anchor in the night, grounding you in this shared space of intimacy.

It's in moments like these that Mattheo's dark humor surfaces, a defense mechanism against the vulnerability he rarely allows himself to show. His voice is a soft murmur in the stillness, "You know, sometimes I think you're dead when you sleep this deeply."

Enzo's head snaps up, eyes wide and glinting with a mix of annoyance and genuine concern. "Don’t say that, Mattheo! It's not funny."

You stir slightly at the sound of their voices but remain blissfully unaware of the conversation happening around you. Mattheo rolls his eyes, though there's a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Relax, Enzo. I’m just joking. But seriously, they sleep like the dead."

Enzo's grip on you tightens almost imperceptibly. "Jokes like that aren’t funny when it's actually a thing, Mattheo. You know how worried I get."

Mattheo's expression softens, and he reaches over to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I know. I’m sorry. It's just... they seem so peaceful when they sleep. Like nothing can touch them."

Enzo sighs, his features relaxing a bit. "I get it. But still, I wish you wouldn’t joke about it. We should check their breathing."

You feel a slight shift as Enzo moves, his fingers gently pressing against the pulse point on your neck. He holds his breath, counting the steady beats beneath his fingertips. Satisfied, he relaxes back into the bed, his body curling protectively around yours once more.

"They’re fine," he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Mattheo's hand joins Enzo's, resting lightly on your chest to feel the slow rise and fall of your breathing. "Yeah, they’re fine," he echoes, more for Enzo's reassurance than his own.

In the morning, the sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stretch, feeling the comforting weight of both Mattheo and Enzo beside you. They’re already awake, watching you with a mix of affection and something else you can't quite place.

"Good morning," you say, your voice thick with sleep.

"Morning," they reply in unison, their voices a harmonious blend of relief and warmth.

You notice the way they exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "What’s up with you two?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Mattheo chuckles, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just making sure you're still with us."

Enzo nudges him with his elbow. "Don’t mind him. He’s just being dramatic."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Okay, now you have to tell me."

Enzo sighs, his hand finding yours beneath the covers. "It's just... you sleep so deeply sometimes. It worries us."

Mattheo nods, his expression more serious now. "Yeah. We just... want to make sure you're okay."

You feel a warmth spread through you at their concern, your heart swelling with affection for these two men who care so deeply. "I’m fine, really. Just a heavy sleeper."

Enzo's thumb strokes the back of your hand. "We know. But humor us, okay? Let us check every now and then."

You nod, understanding the need behind their request. "Okay. If it makes you feel better."

Mattheo's usual smirk returns, and he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. "It does."

The day passes in a blur of activities and laughter. The three of you navigate your shared life with ease, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. The deep connection you share is evident in the way you move around each other, an unspoken understanding that requires no words.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Later that evening, the three of you find yourselves sprawled across the couch in the common room. The warmth of the fireplace and the comfort of their presence create a cozy atmosphere. You rest your head on Enzo's lap while Mattheo occupies the other end of the couch, his legs stretched out and resting comfortably over Enzo's.

"So, what’s the plan for tonight?" Mattheo asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Enzo glances down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "I was thinking we could watch a movie. Something light, maybe?"

You perk up at the suggestion, your eyes bright with interest. "How about a classic? Something we all love?"

Mattheo grins, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Stranger Things marathon?"

Enzo chuckles, nodding in agreement. "Sounds perfect."

You snuggle deeper into Enzo's lap as Mattheo grabs the remote and starts the first movie. The familiar music fills the room, and you feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. As the movie plays, you find yourself drifting off again, the combination of their warmth and the comfort of the setting lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

"Are they asleep already?" Mattheo whispers, glancing over at you.

Enzo smiles, his fingers gently stroking your hair. "Yeah. They must be really tired."

Mattheo’s expression softens as he watches you. "You know, I was thinking... maybe we should talk to them about this. Make sure they know how much we care."

Enzo nods thoughtfully. "I think that’s a good idea. We should have an open conversation about it."

As the night wears on, you shift slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Mattheo and Enzo exchange a glance, their silent agreement clear. They care deeply for you, and your well-being is their priority.

When you wake up the next morning, the sun is just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue across the room. You find yourself in bed again, nestled between Mattheo and Enzo. They’re both awake, their eyes filled with a mixture of love and concern.

"Morning," you say softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning," they reply in unison, their voices warm and reassuring.

You stretch, feeling the comforting weight of their presence. "Did I fall asleep during the movie?"

Enzo chuckles, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "Yeah, you did. We carried you to bed."

You smile, a sense of gratitude filling your heart. "Thank you."

Mattheo’s expression grows serious, and he reaches for your hand. "We need to talk to you about something."

You nod, sensing the importance of the conversation. "Okay."

Enzo takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. "We’ve noticed that you sleep very deeply, and it worries us sometimes. We just want to make sure you're okay."

Mattheo squeezes your hand gently. "We care about you so much, and we want to make sure you know that. If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know."

You feel a wave of emotion wash over you, your heart swelling with love for these two wonderful men. "I appreciate that, really. I’m fine, though. Just a heavy sleeper. But if it helps you both, we can come up with a plan to check in on me."

Enzo smiles, relief evident in his eyes. "That would mean a lot to us."

Mattheo nods, his expression softening. "Thank you. We just want to make sure you're safe."

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to each of their cheeks. "I know. And I love you both for it."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The rest of the day is filled with laughter and light-hearted moments, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing hour. As evening approaches, you find yourselves once again curled up in bed, the familiar sense of comfort and security enveloping you.

"Goodnight, love," Mattheo murmurs, his voice a soft caress in the darkness.

"Sleep well," Enzo whispers, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

As you drift off to sleep, their presence is a constant reassurance, a reminder that you are cherished and protected. The last thing you hear before you succumb to the depths of slumber is Mattheo’s voice, soft and teasing, "Don’t sleep too deeply now."

You smile, your heart filled with love and gratitude for these two wonderful men. And as you sleep, you know that no matter how deeply you dream, you’ll always be safe in their arms.

[strwberri-milk]

Songs of Sorrow - Ch. 4

Rancher!AU || Boothill x Fem!Reader || Slowburn, Drama

The nights used to all be the same to you. 

Sometimes, something interesting would happen that brought a genuine smile to your face. Sometimes, you’d meet someone interesting, maybe considering going out on a date or two with them but it’d take half a second and a shot of vodka for you to realise they wanted nothing else but the ability to say they had you, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. 

However, the addition of that man at the bar started breaking the monotony of your evenings. He never spoke to you, never seemed to even acknowledge your presence unless you came right up to him. You barely even got a good look at his face in the low light of the building, only able to catch glimpses of light locks of hair tied low and the rough hands of a farm hand. Nobody seemed to want to tell you anything about him either, more focused on themselves and how to make you find them more appealing. 

You decided that tonight had to be the night. You needed to talk to him, figure out whatever it was that had you under his spell. You were free for once, having a rare day off thanks to another round of Sampo’s debt collection kicking in. Tonight was going to be a talent show, a yearly occurrence that helped Sampo select his new line of primary talent. 

You seat yourself at the bar early, wanting to be there for the mystery man’s arrival. He had a knack for showing up right before your set and always disappeared after you’ve finished. You watched him for a while at this point, trying to see if he’d approach you first . Much to your disappointment, he never did. 

You hear someone step through the door, looking up to see the stranger. He talks to the staff at the door, peering over at the setlist for the night. You can see something shift in his body language and he starts to turn, leaving through the door. Your heart falls to your stomach and you’re not even sure why considering you don’t even know him. 

“Boothill! Don’t tell me you’re going to abandon me tonight!” the bartender calls from behind you. 

“Not much point in stayin’ if the entertainment ain’t any good,” he replies quickly, deciding to come over anyway to greet the staff.

You feel your heart flutter a little at the drawl in his voice. Sure the accent wasn’t uncommon for this area but somehow you feel he wears it better than most. You don’t see the way the bartender’s gaze flicks towards you, knowing that Boothill was about to walk out that door since you weren’t singing. 

“Come say hi to my friend,” they say instead, you spotting the movement of their hand gesturing towards you. 

“Alright, alright. Only if you pay for my drink.” 

Your breathing shallows as you feel him sit down next to you, suddenly feeling insecure about the way you’re dressed. You tug on the hem of the fabric, brushing back your hair as you curse yourself for not doing one more check in the mirror before heading out. You realise after the clink of his glass hits the counter that he must not recognise you when you’re not in full glam.

“Well lookie here. Seems I might not need that show in the first place. Hello there darlin’.” 

You look up to finally meet the eyes of the man whose attention seemed so hard to get. His hat is tipped back, showing off his strong jaw and steely gaze. All of his attention is focused solely on you now and you regret wanting it this badly. You can’t help the way you squirm, suddenly hyper-aware of anything and everything you could say.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he chuckles, calling the bartender over. 

“Nothing of the sort,” you say, slipping into your onstage persona in record time. It seems like he’s caught on as well, offering you a low whistle as he sits back. 

“Buy yourself a drink. Anything you want, on me,” he offers, smirking at you.

“Awfully kind of you. Nothing in life is free though so what’s in it for you?” 

“Got a pretty girl sittin’ with me. Don’t think I need much else, do you?” 

Your face heats up at the compliment, heart skipping a beat at his words. You’re not sure if it’s because of the words themselves or because the lips they come from look oh so pretty, wishing you were dressed up and singing to him. At least then you’d have some level of control, able to take advantage of the situation as you saw fit. 

“Now you’re just saying that,” you reply instead, batting your lashes sweetly at him. 

“I don’t make a habit of lyin’ to people sweetheart. ‘Specially not when I’d like to get to know ‘em better.” 

Boothill’s not any better off than you are. You wouldn’t be able to tell with the way that he keeps his eyes on you, unknowing that it’s because he can’t take his eyes off of you. When you turn to take a sip of your drink he can’t help the way his brain immediately commits every part of your body to memory. It’s a habit he’s got from bounty hunting, taking in obscene amounts of visual details quickly to make sure he never misses his mark. 

He thought you were alluring from afar, content with just sitting here and basking in your presence but now that you were right next to him he couldn’t help but start to think he’s craving more. At the very least he really does want to get to know you, curious to find out what you’re like when you’re not working. It’s a little disheartening for him to see you immediately going into your persona to speak to him, wanting a more genuine experience but also fully understanding why you made the decision you did. 

“The name’s Boothill,” he offers, extending his hand. 

You slide your hand into his, introducing yourself in kind. You watch curiously as he turns your palm, gasping softly as he brings the back of your hand to his lips. He barely presses them against your skin but it’s enough for you to feel his breath against yours, the warmth of his palm seeping into your fingertips. 

You try not to let your surprise be too obvious, flattered by the act despite the fact you know he’s just being polite. He looks back up at you, smiling when your eyes meet again. 

“I’ve been really enjoyin’ your shows,” he says once the two of you sit back properly.

“Only reason I come into town now. Real nice reprieve after a good hard day of work.” 

“Thank you,” you say genuinely, 

“I didn’t exactly come into this line of work willingly but it’s nice to hear a genuine appreciation for it. I just thought people like my music because they like the skimpy outfits my stylists put me in.” 

“I would be lyin’ if I said I didn’ like ‘em,” he practically purrs, brushing back his long bangs. 

You can see the freckles on his skin, muscles just barely peeking out of the loose flannel he wears. Now that you’re this close to him you decide he’s got both a handsome and a pretty face, strong features perfectly aligned in a way that just somehow looks soft in this moment. 

“But to be fair I don’t care much for how you’re dressed. Just come here to hear your voice.” 

“Well you won’t be hearing it much longer,” you sigh. 

“I’m leaving soon. Find a new job that actually pays me a living wage. Move somewhere nice with a bedroom that doesn’t double as my kitchen,” you laugh, the sound so sweet in Boothill’s ears he thinks he’d rather hear that than your singing. 

“That’s real disappointin’. Now I gotta go find somethin’ else to do with my evenin’s. But, it’s real good a’you to look to do somethin’ better for yourself. Somethin’ that makes you happy. Ya know what you’re lookin’ for?” 

“Not yet. I’ve been squirreling away some funds on the side as much as I can so I should be able to live on it for a while until I figure it out.” 

You fiddle with your fingers nervously, not exactly expecting to be pouring your guts out to a random guy you basically just met. 

“I’m sure I’ll be able to pick up something to do. I’m resourceful - that’s something I think is pretty valued here.” 

“I haven’t known you long but I know you’re right. You’ve got…somethin’ about you. Real allurin’ like,” he admits quietly.  

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume. I still got a few weeks here though so if you’re up to it we could meet every so often after a show,” you offer, hoping that it doesn’t come off as desperate.  

Boothill has to physically restrain himself from breaking out into a dopey grin, heart beating quickly in his chest. He hasn’t fully determined what it is about you that makes him feel this way, unaware that his weeks of admiring you had inspired some feelings of adoration he isn’t sure what to do about. 

“If that’s somethin’ you’re willin’ to do for me I don’t think I’ve got the power to say no,” he says softly instead, basically admitting it to you. 

It goes over your head though and you’re just glad to have maybe made a friend.

“So what do you do, Boothill?”

He’s so done. 

He can barely focus on the words coming out of his mouth, knowing that he’s trying his best to explain cattle ranching and praying he doesn’t sound like he’s talking himself up too much. He doesn’t want to come off like he’s bragging about himself but the fact that he just heard his name roll off your tongue so casually ruins him. 

“Oh! I didn’t know you were supplying us ingredients. Clearly you’ve got a good passion for it judging by how much you can talk about it.” 

“Oh - really, it’s nothin’ much,” he sputters, cool mask slipping for a second. 

He hates the way his voice sounds right now, the fact that it’s crawling to a slow drawl that’s hard even for him to understand. You sound so sophisticated, voice light as you somehow manage to continue the conversation even though his brain is on maybe half a cell right now. For a moment he wishes he was a little better educated, that his hands were a little cleaner but when your knee brushes against his unintentionally it brings him right back to the glow in your eyes. 

“It’d be lovely to spend a night under the stars. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to travel across the cosmos too. It’d be beautiful to watch the planet lag behind as the stars streak across the skies, wouldn’t it?” 

He wants to tell you that he’ll take you anywhere you want him to, show you all the beautiful sights he was lucky enough to see whenever he had a moment in between bounties. Or, if that’s not good enough for you he’ll set up a little picnic for the two of you under the stars. He knows a lovely clearing that gives him the most beautiful view of the stars but he knows if he’s sat out under there all he’ll be able to do is focus on the way you look. 

“It would be,” he says instead. 

[fandomsheadcannoms]

A Little Help ~ Chapter 1

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

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Fem!Reader x Clay Story: The Putt Putt trolls have all gathered at Troll Village to reunite with their friends and family! Y/N is anxious to reunite with her parents after so many years, but it turns out she might need a little help to find them.

Today was anything but a normal day. We were supposed to be welcoming the lost Pop Trolls back, though I think they call themselves the Putt-Putt Trolls, cute little nickname isn’t it? 

I say that today is anything but normal like I’ve experienced the day already! Which is not true, it’s barely gotten far into the morning, but either way today is not a normal day! So many family members and friends are finally reuniting! That rarely happens!

I want today to be perfect. Queen Poppy has already organised so much for the Putt-Putts, but I can’t help but feel like I haven’t done anything, I have to do something! I have to show that I am a good citizen who cares about all trollkind! Everything needs to go perfectly. I need to be perfect.

I bit at my fingers, I shouldn’t be this nervous. I never feel nervous! I’ve performed in front of crowds of hundreds as a child! I shouldn’t be nervous about this!

“Y/N? Dearie, are you in your room?” Lavender a sweet elderly troll knocked on my bedroom door.

I yelled back, giving her permission to come in. Lavender well and truly lives up to her name, I think her parents took one look at their light purple baby and thought ‘I have the perfect name for her’. Lavender looked after me ever since I was a young trolling, I was assigned to her after the Great Escape. After I lost my parents. I hope I can see them again.

“Don’t fidget, you’ll rip off all the skin on your fingers.” She batted my hands away from my mouth “Don’t spiral,”

“I’m not spiralling” I sat on my hands and sat up straight defensively.

She scoffed “I’ve raised you since you were eight I think I can tell when you spiral, what’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know if they are even alive, that’s all,” I avoided looking straight into her eyes as I spoke, and resisted the urge to shove my hands back into my teeth.

While I couldn’t see it, the look she gave me felt so scrutinising, I couldn’t help but feel like I was locked in an interrogation room with an officer who was convinced I was guilty. “Sure it is,” She sighed “I cannot confirm whether they are actually alive or not, but you have no need to feel so nervous, they’re your parents, and they’re going to be ecstatic to see you,”

“Thanks,” I finally looked up at her a small smile spreading across my face “I appreciate it”

“Don’t thank me,” She waved her hand “I’ll be down at the village square, meet me there and we’ll search for your mom and pops”

She walked away, closing my bedroom door behind her. I took a deep breath and looked at my hands, I couldn’t meet my parents with peeling and bleeding fingers, I needed to get the biting thing under control. It’s not how a perfectly grown-up and mature daughter should be acting.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

First chapter!!!!!!

I’m going to try my best to to make Y/N feel like a genuine person rather than a pick me character haha (and if grammar and spelling is bad, that’s my bad bro, English is unfortunately my first language and I’m not good at it hahahah)

Anyway! I thought trying to find her parents would be a cute concept, it’s been a while since I’ve written a Y/N story and I forgot how much I enjoy writing these fics!

[strawberryfaced]

whats a movie that u watch when your sad?

thank u for the ask anon!!! (heads up I accidentally went on a Half unrelated? rant so if you want the basic direct answer it is in paragraph 4)

okay honestly I find that mostly when I am sad I do not in fact watch movies. this is because of many reasons but to summarise it I kind of just find that I am the type of person who REALLY REALLY EASILY OVERLY connects to shit easily like. gets obsessed so watching a movie that may or may not contain characters I will get overly attached to when I am already in a bad state is just. not very healthy for me I think. (also why I very rarely watch shows. if I am this bad about 1-2 hour films imagine me with shows with 2+ seasons)

also another sort of weird but unrelated thing about me and movies is I literally genuinely cannot identify a bad movie. you can show me ANY. ANY movie. and I just. will have no idea it’s bad. I cant even tell you the amount of times I’ve finished a movie and I was like “that was so good! love the plot/characters/etc” and then I Google it and it has 2 stars and 2% rotten tomatoes. kind of funny but if I am sad my self deprecating levels go up. so this makes me feel a little bit stupid

anon IM SO SORRY I don’t think you wanted me to go on a tangent about the relationship between me and movies. but I will say there is one specific movie that kind of is an exception to what I explained which is kiki’s delivery service. something about its simplicity and storyline leaves me feeling very light. i watched it one night when I was feeling shitty and I left the room feeling like I could fly. (also many other ghibli movies are quite good for this too. just doesn’t seem to help as much as this specific one) so yeah here’s the answer to your question!!!!

(^wait also I want to mention for those specific reasons I often to listen to music instead of watching movies when I am sad. of course I am very attached to certain artists and music but I find that music makes me feel a little bit less. heavy? therefore yeah. so if you sent this ask in hopes of searching for recommendations to make you feel better I’m SO SORRY I CANT REALLY GIVE YOU THAT. but I can give you songs if you want!!! anyway if you weren’t asking for that reason just ignore I said this)

[kaysfanficcorner]

Out of This World Chapter 3: Bittersweet Symphony

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the support thus far, and for your patience! It took a moment for me to find the groove with this chapter, but it’s finally here! Looks like I was just in time with the return of our beskar-clad love on the 1st. This will be the first chapter with a tag list, so if you’d like to be added going forward please let me know!

Summary: As complicated feelings persist, the Mandalorian and his new ship mate continue to learn more about each other as they head off to Nar Shaddaa for one more bounty.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthing Reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, and mentions of emotional childhood trauma. This story is eventually going to have NSFW scenes so please no one under 18 interact. If you are under age, you are prohibited from this work of fiction.

Music Inspiration

AO3

*****

As Din Djarin is coming out of the fresher on the Razor Crest, feeling a little like a new man after taking a much needed shower, he hears a soft melody coming from the second floor. The kid’s nowhere to be found, nor are you and nor is the cat. Curious, he climbs the ladder to see what you’re doing up there and the light music grows louder the closer he gets.

Now he recognizes your voice, singing along to one of the songs on your primitive personal device with the accompanying music softly playing in the background. He finds the sound of it to be one of the loveliest things ever to grace his ears, despite the fact that the music itself is unlike anything Din has heard prior to meeting you.

Din is also acutely aware that the tone of your voice sounds very sad, and disquiet washes over him. 

He enters the cockpit, eyes immediately landing on the back of your head. You’re sitting in your usual spot with both feet on the seat and both knees hugged to your chest, looking out at the unmoving, purple tinted star field and rocky asteroid belt. You hair is pulled up into what you call a “messy bun”, and you’re wearing Cara’s hand me down clothing. A long sleeved black tunic with diagonal straps going across the chest and a red line going down the side of each arm, as well as a pair of grey pants with dark red pockets and straps going down each leg. Black boots sit beneath your chair, but your socked feet are obviously not in them. These clothes have seemed oddly fitting on you as of late, making you look more like a citizen of the galaxy to Din, while still looking entirely like yourself. It’s a good look, if he’s truly being honest. 

You stop singing when he comes further into the room, and Din finds himself disappointed by it’s sudden cut off. Even dispirited, you sound so beautiful. The device playing the music remains to do its job, laying nearly forgotten on the floor beside your boots. The kid and the cat are both sleeping together in the other passenger seat, nestled against one another. 

“Hey, Chrome Dome,” you say with even more sadness in your voice. 

Din moves in closer, coming to face your right side. You don’t look up at him. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks, genuinely concerned. 

“I don’t know how to answer that,” you reply with a shaky voice. 

Din feels incredibly uncomfortable seeing this sudden change in your otherwise pleasant demeanor. You don’t sound like the you he’s come to feel so friendly towards, and it bothers him. In this current moment he can’t explain to himself as to why, but he wants desperately to take the sadness away from you. To see a smile grace your plump lips again. He knows logically that he can’t just remove an emotion from another person to just to replace it with another, but he wants to all the same.

It’s because you care for her, a voice that sounds a lot like his says in the back of his mind. He ignores it and focuses his attention back to you.

Moments like this have always been awkward for Din Djarin. The tight-lipped bounty hunter has rarely showed this much emotion in front of another person, not at all since entering into adulthood, and seeing someone else openly wallowing in throws of despair is uncharted territory for a man like him. He has no idea how to conduct himself, but in spite of this he still feels this tugging urge to help you feel better coming from somewhere deep inside his belly. 

“You’re clearly upset,” Din says, mentally kicking himself for how unhelpful that probably sounds. 

You sigh, “I just get like this sometimes. I think a lot of it comes from having a lack of a normal childhood and growing up in a generally unaccepting society. At least that’s what I’d been trying to figure out with my therapist back on Earth.” There’s such a lack on enthusiasm in your voice as you speak, shrugging your shoulders as you say the last sentence. 

“What’s a therapist?” Din inquires with a slight head tilt to the left, ever curious about the world you come from. 

“A mental health doctor, or healer rather. They try to help you figure out what’s going on in your head and give you healthy ways to deal with it.” You explain, adding on with, “I don’t know how to explain why I suddenly feel like shit. I don’t feel like I’m at my lowest or anything, but I don’t feel great.” You begin to hug your knees even tighter, burying your face into your thighs to try and hide your obvious tears from him, but Din sees them. 

He’s at a loss for words. He has literally no idea what to say, but maybe saying something isn’t what he needs to do right now. Perhaps what you need is to get these feelings out of you, to know that someone is there and someone is listening. 

Without truly understanding himself, the bounty hunter succumbs to an impulse and removes his gloves, letting them drop to the floor before kneeling beside you. Tentatively, he places a bare hand at the base of your exposed neck. You flinch slightly, before relaxing into his warm touch a little by pressing back against his palm. Din takes this as permission to keep his hand where it is, your soft skin driving him mad somewhere deep inside. 

Then words seem to come to him after all. Not many, but enough to communicate the necessary information. “My childhood was ripped away from me without my consent. I may not experience the same feelings that you do, but I might be able to understand. You can trust me.” As he says this Din begins to gently squeeze your neck, lightly massaging around your vertebrae. His other hand turns the music on your device down a little so that he can focus on your voice. 

You take a deep breath, “I wasn’t treated with a lot of respect as a child. I was born to parents who got pregnant by mistake when they slept together at some party and I was the end result. They got married because more often than not in my culture if you got a girl pregnant it was your responsibility to marry her, even if you couldn’t stand each other. So they grew to hate each other, like a lot. Whenever they fought I always felt to blame for existing, even though I never asked to be a part of their shitty little lives in the first place. To them I was just this constant burden they had to bare and I was the reason that they never got to have the lives they’d dreamed of. Which is such bullshit. They could have done anything they wanted to with their lives, I was just an easy target for blame.”

Pausing for a moment, you catch your shaky breath again and continue, “My grandparents on my dad’s side might as well have been non-existent. My grandmother on my mom’s side is horribly judgmental and controlling and I could never be myself around her. If the family as a whole was not meeting her standards then she would rain hell upon anyone and everyone to get her way. Everything had to be perfect on the surface with her, even if all of us were dying inside. The only person in my family that I’ve ever felt close to was my mom’s father. My grandfather was a great man.” Your voice hitches every few words as you softly weep out this explanation.

Din’s hand never stops rubbing circles into your neck and the other grabs hold of one of yours. 

You squeeze it for dear life. 

“You said your grandfather was one of the few who got to break your planet’s atmosphere,” Din says, letting you know that he remembered your mention of the family’s patriarch. Letting you know that he’s listened to every word you’ve ever said to him with respect.

Nodding, you continue to tell Din about the father figure you’re clearly missing. “He worked for my government’s space program until they kicked him out for theories about human life in other parts of the universe. They thought he was crazy, and so he lost everything. My grandmother left him and I was forbidden from seeing him anymore. But I broke the rules all the time, and I spent a ton of time at his house until I finally got caught one day. After that I had zero freedom until I was old enough to move out on my own. I started seeing him again once I detached from the rest of my family. I was pretty much disowned at that point, so he let me move in. Shortly after that he disappeared and then five years went by without a trace of him. I looked everywhere. Well, at least I tried. He was eventually declared legally dead, with a funeral and everything. I refused to go because I wasn’t ready to admit that he probably is truly dead. I refused to think that he would just abandon me on purpose. The only person who ever understood me, who didn’t make me feel like I had to pretend to be someone else, left me without a single word. I’ll never see him again.” 

Your crying becomes increasingly more emotional, shoulders shaking violently as your voice takes on a new layer of pain. “Fuck, I just wish that he could have at least found out that his theories were correct. He’ll never get to know he was right and that everyone else was wrong.”

“That is unfortunate,” Din agrees, still feeling uncomfortable and unaware of what to say. 

“Screw those assholes. Screw my family. Screw Earth. Part of me doesn’t even want to go back there, Mando. I’ve barely got any friends, and the ones I do have are out living their best lives. Marriage, kids, careers. It feels like I blinked and suddenly we were all thirty and I couldn’t relate them anymore because my life didn’t keep moving forward past school. I don’t have a real family to go back to. I don’t even know who I am anymore, Mando. Maybe I never really knew to begin with.”

Sharply, you sit up then and Din’s hand slides down your back. While letting out an uninhibited noise of frustration, you gesture to the cockpit window where the stars and small asteroids sit serenely in space. “Why the hell would I want to go back to a boring life without this?” 

Then your voice dips down to nearly a whisper, outstretched fingers slowly curling back down into a tight fist that you slam against your own thigh. “Fuck, its so fucking beautiful that it tears me apart inside.”

“You don’t have to go back,” Din says after a beat, meaning every word even though it scares him a little to say it out loud. He’s not sure where he finds the words, but they come regardless. “You could start over, make a new life here. Go anywhere in the galaxy. Become anyone you want. It wouldn’t be easy, but you could do it. There’s nothing stopping you.”

You look at him then, cheeks wet and nose slightly runny, and even so he’s struck by how raw your facial expression is. Although wrought with hard emotions, Din thinks you look stunning. 

“I feel like I’m stopping me,” you say with a small sob, whipping your nose on your sleeve and your cheeks with your palm. Your other hand is still clutching his tightly. “I can barely do anything for myself here. I’m completely reliant on other people. On you. I have to let you do everything. You hunt, you make credits, you fight, you cook, and you fly the ship. All I’m good for is watching the kid. Back on Earth I was completely self-sufficient because I had to be. Sometimes I love it here and I never want to leave and sometimes it’s so frustrating not being able to take care of myself.”

Din moves his hand back up to your neck, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the base of your skull. Your eyes slip closed as if experiencing a small moment of pleasure. Din argues, “Why do you have to be completely reliant on me? You can learn how to do anything that I can do. I’ll teach you, or at the very least I can try.” 

“I already intrude on your life enough as it is, Mando. Ugh, fuck, I’m literally a burden on everyone I ever meet. Maybe my parents were right. I know you had no interest in taking me on, and I’m sure I’ll overstay my welcome at some point.” You huff, prying your eyes open to look at him again. 

There’s so much pain behind your irises that something in Din’s chest crumbles at the sight of it. The need to fix this becomes entirely too strong to control but he can tell you're not done expressing yourself, so he lets you finish. 

Your voice is laced with the same pain from your eyes, “Then I’ll just be on my own again. I’m so fucking tired of being alone.”

Din decides to be honest and firm, but in no way intended to hurt your feelings. “It’s true, you may overstay your welcome one day. It’s also true that I didn’t want to accept this arrangement and I feared that this would quickly become tiresome.” 

Your face contorts into a tiny look of agony so he squeezes your hand tighter, taking on an even firmer tone of voice as he says your name to really get your attention. “Don’t focus on the pain, focus on me.” He’s not sure if what he’s saying is helpful, but he feels as if he’s got to say something. As new and strange as this is for him, he truly wants to help his friend. 

Din waits for you to blink at him and nod slowly before going on, “I do not regret this. It didn’t become clear to me that I’ve missed having a friend around until a few weeks ago. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I’m tired of it too.”

When Din says that final sentiment, your face softens considerably and you let out a new kind of sob that almost sounds like relief is lacing its tone. You dive into him with such speed and force that he lets out a surprised yelp as he’s knocked on his ass. You’re clinging to him with nearly crushing force. Arms around his waist, your face burrows into him as the rest of you curls up on the floor between his sprawled legs.

At first he just lets you squeeze him with his own arms awkwardly outstretched on either side of you. After a moment, Din’s arms tentatively come to circle your upper back, one hand cradling your head slightly. This is all so foreign, but at the same time he can’t help but think that it feels entirely right to be in this position with you in his arms. 

“I’m here,” he soothes, and you sob until you have nothing left in you.

Somehow Jupiter and the kid sleep through all of it.

*****

When you finally calm down enough to dislodge from the mandalorian, you scoot back until your back is pressed to the side of the red seat. Throwing your head back with inflamed puffy eyes squeezed shut, you rub at them with your hands as you start to take more even breaths. You know a splitting headache isn’t going to be far behind a good cry like that.

“Fuck,” you exclaim. “Sorry that was kinda intense.”

“You don’t need to apologize for expressing yourself.” Mando says sternly. 

You feel incredibly awkward after being so vulnerable in front of someone so stoic like him, but he let you get out several months worth of pent up feelings. “I just feel like that was a lot,” you say, feeling as if it’s necessary to make further excuses for yourself.

Looking back over at Mando, you watch his silver helmet shake in the negative as he speaks. “Well you don’t have to. Thank you for trusting me.”

“You’re welcome, near bursha. Did I say that right?” You demeanor is shy as the foreign words leave your mouth.

“It’s ner burc’ya, but you got close.” He pronounces it slowly, tone low and warm.

“Ner burc’ya,” you repeat softly. 

Mando stands then and holds a bare hand out to you. You sniff a little, trying to clear your stuffy nose as you look at his skin and stop to really register that it had been exposed for most of that interaction between you. The way in which he’d rubbed your neck while you cried your eyes out  had been so soothing, but you’d been so caught up in your feelings that its not until now that you really realize how long you were feeling his warm skin touch your own. 

You take Mando’s hand and let him pull you up easily, wobbling a little as you come to your feet. A hand on his beskar chest plate steadies you, his own hand holding your elbow for extra support. 

“I feel woozy,” you say with your other hand to your forehead. The throbbing in your skull is already beginning its painful rhythm.

“You need to hydrate,” Mando says matter of factly while leading you to his seat at the front of the cockpit. “Sit. I’ll get you water.”

You comply, sitting in the pilot’s seat of the Razor Crest for only the second time since the ship became your sort-of home. It definitely feels more worn than your own seat, having way more give in the cushion. Obviously your mysterious friend didn’t have a lot of passengers prior to you. Pulling your feet up and laying your head on your knees, you breathe in the comforting aroma of the Mandalorian surrounding you for a few moments as you look at the stars and asteroids surrounding the ship. 

Behind you the baby stirs and makes a little yawning noise. 

“You slept through a shit show, green bean.” You say, turning to see his huge black eyes blinking awake at you.

“Language,” Mando’s voice reappears in the doorway, “His first word is going to be something awful thanks to us.”

You roll your eyes with a small grin, “You are dramatic. Is that a mandalorian thing or just a you thing?”

He hands you the cup of water, shaking his silver head at you. “Just drink.”

As you take a few sips he comes to stand next to you, leaning slightly on a buttonless section of the control panel with his arms crossed at the wrists just at the base of his abdomen. His right hand is holding onto his left forearm slightly, and even in the state you’re in you can appreciate how attractive he is to you. The visor fixes on you and you feel slightly unnerved by it, your system still all over the place after coming down from the extreme state of dysregulation. 

Feeling an awkward need to break the silence, you say, “So we’re landing on Nevarro soon?”

“Yes. Before we get there, would you like to practice flying the ship?” His voice is even as he says this, and you’re dying to know what his face is doing on the other side of the beskar. He can’t be serious, can he?

“Uh, what?” You say almost dumbly, features scrunching. “Don’t think I heard you right.”

His head tilts to the side slightly and his arms shift. “You heard me right. If you want to feel more self sufficient, you’re going to need to learn how to live in this galaxy, not just exist in it. That includes flying. Besides, it would take some of the strain off of me if you could man the controls as well.”

Some of your normal snarky personality is starting to resurface as you quip back, “I was just thinking the other day that if there was an emergency and you needed me to fly the ship we’d be screwed.”

“Exactly,” Mando agrees.

“I was being sarcastic, but that’s cool too.”

“Would you like to learn to fly or not?” His tone, although playful for him, has a seriousness laced within it.

You decide to take the hint, looking at him seriously. “Yes, please.”

The Mandalorian shows you a few very basic controls and how to steer. Watching his gloveless fingers dance across the controls effortlessly is mesmerizing. Maybe its because his hands are the only part of him you ever get to see, but damn are they lovely. 

As he explains navigation and thrusters, you realize how intimidating a ship like the Razor Crest really is. So much goes into flying these ships, but seeing as the craftsmanship is far beyond anything Earth has ever come up with you're not really surprised. It’s definitely not like driving your shitty old Honda, that’s for sure. This vessel is designed for deep space, not driving to the mall to get cheese fries and a new t-shirt from Hot Topic. 

After he shows you what you need to know for very basic maneuvering, Mando steps back and picks up the kid. Jupiter has since jumped down from the chair and is circling between Mando’s legs. They come to your side, the foster father and son who are slowly winning your heart, and and any nerves you felt up until this point slowly fade away. You feel a little more confident as you reach across the controls, clicking on the few buttons he’d showed you before grabbing the left and right joysticks meant or steering.

Just as the ship begins to move, your forgotten iPad changes over to the next song and “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve starts to play. It’s so faint you can barely hear it, but you can’t imagine a more fitting soundtrack to this moment. 

You steer left, then right, feeling the Razor Crest glide exactly where you direct it. You speed up a little, dipping up and down then back and forth. A feeling of joy rises to your chest, and if you hadn’t just cried out everything your body has to cry, tears might have formed again at the experience of getting to fly a spacecraft for the first time. But they don’t, so you just allow yourself to enjoy this moment. This confident feeling of freedom is unlike anything you have experienced, like you really could tackle anything you put your mind to.

“How do you feel?” Mando asks as you slow down to a stop and release the steering, grinning up at him with bright eyes.

“Like I can do anything,” you reply honestly. “I could get used to this.” 

The kid reaches for you then, so Mando passes him over. Your bare fingers run across his as you take the child into your arms, skin tingling where his touch had once been. 

*****

The stop on Nevarro is intentionally quick, with Din demanding that Karga give him the biggest payout bounty on his list as soon as he arrives in his office. You’ve taken the child off to see Cara and visit with her until Din comes to retrieve you both. 

“Well hello to you too, Mando,” Greef Karga says with a raise of the brow.

“I need to focus on the mission. On the child. Hunting that last round of bounties took up too much time.” Din says matter of factly. “If I could get one big payout, enough to last us a couple of months, then I can take care of the matters at hand.” 

Karga shakes his head, “You know better than most that the biggest payouts are the most dangerous. Are you willing to put the child and the girl at risk?”

“If I do my job correctly, there will be no risk to speak of.” Din replies evenly, unappreciative of Karga’s tone. “I’d like to be done with this for a while.”

“There is always a risk, Mando. But frankly, with Nevarro becoming such a prosperous and respectable planet I’d like to move away from this kind of work myself.” Karga agrees before changing the subject all together, “How is the girl doing on the Razor Crest, anyway? You never dropped her off back here and it’s been well over two months, so I assume that I was correct and the arrangement has been beneficial for you both.”

Struck by how much the idea of just dropping you off and likely never seeing you again truly bothers him, Din doesn’t answer right away. When he first met you he’d been willing to do that at a moments notice, but now the thought of it isn’t something he’s willing to consider. After learning more about you he’s aware of how cruel it would be on his part, and he would miss your presence. He would miss the feeling of you making him laugh. 

But Din knows that a part of Karga is just trying to distract him in order to haggle, so Din decides to change the subject back. “She’s well, and the arrangement is indeed beneficial. Now about the bounty.”

The two of them do this verbal dance for a little while longer.

*****

At the same time the Mandalorian is arguing over bounties at the desk of Greef Karga, you’re sitting across the desk of Marshal Cara Dune. She’s playing with the child as you fill her in on the events of your life since you last saw each other. 

After a few minutes of letting you ramble, Cara suddenly stops waving her hands in front of the kid’s face to grin widely at you. It’s distracting enough that you forget what you were just saying. 

“What’s that face for?” You ask.

“You have feelings for him,” she replies, completely sure of the statement she’s making. 

“What?!” Heat floods your cheeks, “I have feelings for who?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t look good on you. You like him. It’s clear as day when you talk about him.” Cara looks so pleased with herself that you want to throw something at her. If only this were Earth and she had papers strewn about on her desk, you’d wad one up and chuck it at her face.

Instead you just sigh and hang your head, “Is it really that obvious?”

“Painfully so,” the warrior woman says, still grinning. 

Between you both, the child is looking back and forth at each of you with a curious look on his tiny face and you briefly wonder if he understands what you’re talking about.

“Why are you so happy about this?” You groan out, sinking into your seat.

Cara shrugs, “Because you have a pleasant air about you that I’ve never seen before. It’s nice to see.”

You look over at her to confirm that her face looks as honest as she’d sounded and it does. “Aww, that’s actually a very sweet reason. I’m a little less embarrassed now.”

“You’re embarrassed?” She asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, “Why?”

“Because I feel like an adolescent with a crush. What if its just a result of being cooped up with him for over two months or I’ve just gone too long without sex?” You ask with a groan, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling. The baby makes a noise and your eyes flick back down to him, remembering that he’s there and he’s listening to you. “Whoops I shouldn’t have said that last part in front of the kid.”

“I’m sure he’s scandalized,” Cara quips sarcastically. She leans both of her elbows on the desk and rests her chin in her hands with a smirk playing at her lips. “Do you really think that’s the reason, or is it possible that you’re actually compatible with each other?”

“I mean, I like his personality. He’s funnier than I would have ever expected him to be. His voice is sexy, he’s got a nice laugh, he’s been teaching me how to do stuff around the ship and that’s been nice. I’d like to learn more about him, about his life. He’s my friend, Cara. This is so conflicting and complicated. I don’t know what to do.” You answer your friend honestly.

“Does it have to be complicated?” Cara’s question is blunt and to the point. 

You shrug, “I guess not, but when it comes down to the fact that I’m not from this Galaxy it feels like it does.”

Cara fixes you with a serious stare before asking, “Do you even want to go home anymore? From what you told me, your life back on Earth wasn’t much of a life. Instead of focusing on trying to get back to a place where you weren’t happy, why not build a better life for yourself here? Your chances of going back are slim to begin with. Would you really want to waste your life looking for something that could never happen and miss what’s going on around you?”

You counter with, “Honestly I don’t want to leave the galaxy anytime soon, but a crush on man is a dumb reason to build my life here. I wasted a lot of time on men back home and I promised myself I’d never make decisions about myself for a guy again.”

Brow furrowed, the little tattoo by her left eye wrinkles while she narrows her gaze and looks even more stern with you. “I’m not saying stay because of him. It would be because of you. Sure, see where things with Mando go if you want to, but if you stay in this galaxy do it for yourself. You need to live life for you, and you alone. All I meant was that a connection with someone can’t hurt either.”

“You make excellent points, Cara.” Her words ring true for you and you can’t help but agree with your friend, nodding. “When I first came to Nevarro I was desperate to go home because I’m so out of my element here, but now I’m starting to realize that I don’t have to be. Maybe I can find a new element. I don’t know if or how I’ll act on my feelings for Mando, though. Can Mandalorians even,” you pause while making eye contact with the kid so your voice drops down a few octaves while you wave your hands around, “you know what I mean?”

Cara shrugs, “ From what I understand, yes. As long as you never expect him to take that helmet off. And as for making a move, just let it come naturally. It’ll feel right when it’s supposed to. He might even make the first attempt if he feels the same way. Do you think he does?”

“I don’t know. He’s not cold towards me anymore, that’s for sure. I expected him to barely talk to me at first but we actually talk quite a bit. He’s opened up around me a lot in the last few weeks.” Thinking back on earlier that morning, laying in his arms as you’d cried your eyes out, you add, “He’s been there for me when I needed a friend.”

“Well that sounds like a start to me,” Cara approves of this, nodding.

“A start to what?” The Mandalorian’s voice is suddenly behind you and you stomach does a flip inside your body. 

Dread fills your brain as your heart speeds up, but Cara stays cool and recovers for you. “Our friend here was telling me that she’s been learning some new skills thanks to you,” she says.

“Yeah I told her that you’ve been teaching me to shoot a blaster,” you add, turning to look back at him. Seeing him just solidifies the conversation you just had with Cara. You want him. Badly.

“She’s not awful,” Mando says with a nod.

“Gee thanks,” you reply sarcastically with an eye roll and a laugh.

“Just being honest,” he quips back with a shrug.

Cara looks back and forth between you before sending a smirk in your direction. “I think it’ll end up working out,” she adds this just for your benefit and you wonder if Mando is confused by her phrasing. 

Oh well, you think. He comes to stand beside you, a hand coming to the back rest of the chair you’re in. Cara waggles her eyebrows at you and you fight the urge to wave her off. Instead you focus on him, and ask if he’s done with bounty business.

“Yes, I settled it. We are going to go grab one last bounty and the payout should last us long enough to focus on the kid for awhile.” Mando looks down at you and nods his head towards the doorway, “Is it alright if we get going? You two can catch up more when we come back. This one should only last a few days, a week tops.” 

You nod back, standing at the same time as Cara. She comes around the desk to give you a hug. “Thanks for the advice,” you say. 

“Of course. Be safe out there. See you soon.” Cara says, nodding to Mando as you grab the child and turn to follow him back to the ship.

Outside, Mando waits so that you are walking in stride together. “What advice did she give you?” He asks sincerely.

“I was telling her that I’m not sure if I want to leave this galaxy any time soon.” You say honestly, and he stops for a second to look down at you.

“Was her advice useful?” His tone takes on a certain vulnerability for a split second, but you hear it.

“Yes, I think so.” You reply with a smile, and the walk back to the Razor Crest resumes.

*****

The bounty turns out to be hiding on Nar Shaddaa, the moon of Nal Hutta. The Smuggler’s Moon. Nal Hutta being a green marshy planet with rings on which a race of large slug-like beings called Hutts reign. The moon, where your little group on the Razor Crest are now headed, is covered completely in urban sprawl and criminal activity. Making it the perfect place for a very wanted person to lay low. 

Yes, of course you have to make a Pizza Hut joke when Mando explains all of this to you. The two of you are standing in front of the little weapons locker on the first floor of the ship, and his confusion is adorably worth it.

Then he hands you a spare blaster, and tells you that he is hoping that you’d be willing to help him hunt the bounty. Both terrified and thrilled, you take the blaster and hold it in both of your hands as you look at him with skepticism.

“‘Smuggler’s Moon?’ This place sounds incredibly dangerous. Is me tagging a long such a good idea?” You ask genuinely.

Mando nods at you, “This place is very dangerous, but the worst of it is at nightfall. During the day, the street market that we are going to is fairly harmless. I want to try to lore him out, and I want your permission to use you as a sort of bait.”

“Bait?!” Exclaiming incredulously, you narrow your eyes at him and hold the blaster back out to him. For a moment you imagine yourself dangling on a fishing hook. “I thought we were friends, Mando.”

“We are,” he says pointedly, gently pushing the blaster back towards you. “I would not ask you to do this if I wasn’t sure I could protect you. I promise.”

You look at him and huff, “If I die I’m allowed to haunt you.”

“Deal,” Mando sticks his gloved right hand out to shake yours and you begrudgingly take it. “I have a theory about something. If I’m right, this could end the hunt that much faster.”

You shift your footing and cross your arms over your chest. You’re nervous but he’s trusting you a lot, so you want to hear him out. “Okay, shoot. Tell me what this idea of yours is.”

“The bounty is an Anzat.” He says this as if you know what he’s talking about, and you roll your eyes so hard you nearly get dizzy. Mando must notice this, and continues speaking before you can take the opportunity to be a smart ass. “The Anzati are a humanoid people who survive on soup.”

No you’re sure he’s fucking with you, so you scoff. “Like potato soup because their planet can only grow potatoes?”

He sighs, “No. Soup is what they call the brains of the living beings that they murder for food.”

Stomach dropping to your feet, your mouth forms an “o” and you do not interrupt your friend again.

Mando goes on, “They look like normal humans most of the time, but they have these proboscises that retract and extend from their cheeks. They snake up the nostrils of the victim and suck out the soup.”

“You’re not making a good case as to why I should be involved. This brain vampire guy sounds terrifying.” You say, growing somewhat anxious.

“They can smell the soup even from miles away, and the Anzati only ever go hunting for the most delicious smelling soup. Or the most rare. Even though you are human, your body chemistry is going to be slightly different than mine, or that of a human from another planet. Your brain will likely smell unique to an Anzat.” Mando explains this cooly, and you can’t help but think that it makes sense.

“Alright, go on.”

“So the plan is we go to the market during the day, in the area he was last spotted, and just pretend to shop around for an hour. Then we come back to the ship, I lock you inside of it so tightly that nothing can get in, and then when he comes sniffing around I grab him. They don’t need him brought in alive according to the puck, so worst case scenario I kill him and we just freeze the body.” The Mandalorian finishes telling you all of this by placing a hand on your shoulder and sighing heavily. “This does sound like a stupid idea now that I’ve said it out loud. I’ll just hunt him the old fashioned way.”

“What if we land the Crest closer to him than you think and he can smell me anyway?” You counter, looking over to where the kid is happily eating something with tentacles. “And what about the kid? He’s got a rare brain too, Mando.”

“I thought about that. We’re going to put him down for a nap and we’ll keep him locked up in the cot until things are safe.” Looking off into a corner of the ship, Mando sighs again before adding, “I regret this idea. Karga was probably right about it being too dangerous with the both of you involved. Even five years ago I would have taken this bounty with a small team, I don’t know what I’m thinking trying to do it alone.”

Your nose wrinkles as you think about it for a moment, and then you look into the T-shaped visor nestled between the beskar covering Mando’s face and you square your shoulders thinking that the two of you could be a team. A great team, even. That has a really nice ring to it. “If I am going to consider living here for the foreseeable future I need to learn what it’s like to be in possible danger. Let’s try your plan. An hour at the market, and then I lock myself in with the kid until you get back.” 

The helmet turns sharply to look at you, his voice sounding surprised. “You’re sure?”

You nod, “Why not? I trust you. I can be your team for this one, at least a little bit.”

The Mandalorian visibly relaxes slightly, tense shoulders loosening as his arms drop a little. “Thank you, ner burc’ya.”

Feeling braver about your feelings after your conversation with Cara, you place a hand to his forearm just above the vambrace. “You’re welcome. I know I’m probably crazy for agreeing to this though.” 

“Perhaps,” he chuckles, and your heart swells at the sound of it. You might follow this man anywhere just to hear that pleasant noise rumble out of his armor plated chest.

You think for a moment and then you recall something that Mando just said. Excitement suddenly floods your system. “Wait, hold up. You said Nal Hutta has rings? I’m going up to the cockpit to look at it. My favorite planet in my solar system has rings and I think it’s the most gorgeous thing ever.”

“You’re going to love this one, then. It’s a handsome planet.” He says, and from the tone of his voice you like to think he’s smiling. 

*****

Din is attuned to your presence every moment that you are out of the Razor Crest on Nar Shaddaa. Things are going as planned thus far, but he is on high alert all the same. He knows how much of a risk he’s created and he intends to keep his promise that you’ll be safe. To your credit, you’ve listened to his every instruction and followed them perfectly. You’re taking this extremely seriously, causing a newfound respect for you to blossom within his already blooming garden of feelings regarding you.

You’re dressed in galaxy fashions a la Cara Dune, and your face is hidden behind a low hanging black hood. The old blaster he gave you is strapped to your right thigh. You’ll blend in perfectly in the impossibly huge moon-city. 

Din looks you over as you finish coming down the ramp of the ship, glad to see that you’d followed his advice on how to dress. “There are so many people here that it doesn’t matter who you are in a place like this, unless the wrong people are looking for you. Good call with that hood. You’re a beautiful woman, you might draw too much attention to yourself with your face fully exposed.”

Beginning to fan yourself, you throw the other hand to your forehead while donning some sort of terrible accent. “Why, Mr. Mandalorian, did you just call me beautiful?” 

“I did,” He says matter of factly, tilting his head with a hidden smirk.

Batting your eyes at him a bit you respond with, “Well thank you. I bet you’re handsomer than hell under that beskar, but I’m fine with never finding out.” 

Din’s eyes widen, a smile creeping up his cheeks in place of the smirk. “I like to think so,” he says honestly.

You put a hand to your chin and pretend to think for a moment. “So the man who hides his face from the world is vain after all?”

“All I’m saying is that I don’t have a problem with the way I look.” Din just shrugs, and the little giggle you let out guts him with a jolt of joy.

The little smile playing at your lips also does Din in a little as you speak. “Your confidence is nice. I wasn’t sure how you felt about yourself in that regard and it never seemed polite to ask.”

Din looks you up and down, deciding to open up more of the wall he has put up around others for most of his life. “My choice to become a Child of the Watch and wear this helmet never came from a place of dissatisfaction with my face. I wanted to be a part of the people who saved my life when droids destroyed my home and killed my parents. I wanted to be a part of The Tribe, to know The Way of The Mandalore.”

“I think its nice that you were able to find a group of people to rely on after your parents died, and something that you feel so strongly about to help guide your life forward. It’s beautiful in its own way,” you say this sincerely, “I am sorry about your family, though. And I meant what I said, I don’t care about not seeing your face. As far as I’m concerned, this is you.” You gesture up at the helmet.

Din didn’t realize that this little banter would turn so serious, but he’s genuinely thankful for how much respect you show his way of life. He dips his head in a nod, “Thank you for saying that.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for opening up to me.” You grin up at him before covering most of your face with the hood again. “You ready to go shopping?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Din shuts the ramp of the ship, making sure she’s locked up tight with the precious cargo inside. He then turns and holds out a hand to you. “Hold out your wrist.”

You comply and he fixes a small watch-like device to your arm. “Is this a com-link?” You ask.

Din nods, “Correct. If, and I mean if, we get separated we’ll be able to communicate with each other. Hopefully you won’t need to use it, but I’ll show you how it works.” 

*****

Nar Shaddaa is gorgeous in your opinion. Sure, it’s definitely got a crime infested shithole kind of vibe, but its like New York City only ten times bigger and ten times more interesting. You’ve always been a city person, so you can’t help but see the charm in this sprawling urban moon. It reminds you of Bladerunner and The Fifth Element, being practically out of a big Hollywood movie. Neon lights everywhere, even in the daylight. Sky scrapers so tall you can’t really see the top. Thousands of people from all kinds of species wandering around either on foot or little hovering vehicles. Some even walking strange little creatures clearly meant to be pets on leashes. Droids scattered here and there. Seedy or not, this place is full of life and it fills you with a little bout of excitement.

Despite this, you remain very serious as you stay close to Mando through the crowds. This is not the time nor the place to be cracking jokes at the risk getting yourself into trouble.

You stop at a few stands here and there. The Mandalorian instructs you to shop and act naturally. He even gives you a few credits to buy some items you need just to make it seem even more natural. So shop is what you do. 

It’s more soothing than you expect it to be. Shopping like this reminds you of going to street fairs back home to look at crafts, or the farmers market on Sundays to get fresh produce.

You do end up looking at the fresh foods first. Being somewhat of a vegetarian, you buy yourself a few things from the produce stand before moving on to meats of all kinds of alien varieties that do not look appetizing. Mando grabs a few of the meats for the kid, and you buy yourself some sort of grilled vegetable on a stick from a street cart when you realize how hungry you’ve become. It’s odd, but tasty all the same.

Then you move on to clothes and handmade items, trying not to get too friendly with anyone while also being polite. At one stand you pick out a black sweater with bell sleeves, cropped at the waist. At another you grab a set of dark purple leather-like suspenders with a removable blaster holster, and a pair of what look like an odd kind of cargo pants. Black, of course. Purple and black are your two colors of choice when actually given one.

It’s coming up on one hour when a particular item catches your eye. It’s a necklace on a small, thin gold chain. The tiny pendant is only one centimeter long, and it’s clearly a small rendition of Nal Hutta as some sort of obvious touristy product. There’s a light white-green stone with a gold band wrapping around it as the planet’s ring. You could care less about having a souvenir from this place, but damn is it a pretty piece of jewelry. You’re not the biggest jewelry person, but you know for a fact that if you had that little planet necklace it would never leave your neck. 

“A pretty necklace for a pretty girl?” A croaky feminine voice pulls you from your small trance. You look over to see the shop owner sitting on a little chair behind the table of jewels. She’s definitely some kind of alien, but what kind you do not know. Instead of hair, she has two very long fleshy tubes attached her head like pigtails. Her skin is green, and she seems rather elderly.

“Oh, me? I mean I love this piece but it costs more credits than I have unfortunately.” You say, grabbing for Mando’s forearm to push him along. For reasons you don’t understand, you get a weird vibe from her and you don’t care for it. 

“Why not let the gentleman buy it for you?” The old woman persists, and you feel uneasy still. 

“The gentleman has already spent enough on her today,” Mando replies cooly, noticing your discomfort and scooting you forward in front of him. Under different circumstances you would have been titillated at the slightly possessive way in which he spoke of you.

This unpleasant old woman gives a sneer and her once kind face morphs into one of ugly distain. “Suit yourselves. I would have cut you a deal, you know.”

“Yeesh,” you say once far enough away, unaware that she can hear better than you think. “I didn’t like that lady.” 

“Neither did I,” Mando agrees. “That necklace would have suited you, though.” 

“Why thank you, Mr. Mandalorian,” you say in that terrible American southern accent again and he actually groans a little. That’s a new one for him.

“For kriffs sake. Let’s get you back to the Razor Crest.” 

You sincerely hope that he’s rolling his eyes as you fix him with a little smirk. He nudges his shoulder lightly into yours and squeezes your hand for a moment in a gesture which you take as a slightly intimate one. He’s letting you know his physical presence is there with you, even in a huge crowd where he’s probably not willing to do more than that.

*****

Ranik A’kazz, the same Anzati man with a very steep bounty upon his head, notices your presence on the moon of Nar Shaddaa shortly after the moment that you set foot onto it’s surface. He is struck suddenly with a scent that he’s never once in his long life ever experienced. Ranik has travelled through all of this galaxy’s outer rim and through most of its inner rim planets, and not once has he ever smelled a soup such as yours.

It’s absolutely foul.

Ranik is disgusted by the rank scent of it, fighting back the urge to gag the closer he gets to the human woman it belongs to and her Mandalorian companion. It’s a powerful scent to be sure, but even more powerful still is the faint scent that accompanies the one which he finds so offensive. 

This second scent is utterly delectable.

“The force,” he finds himself whispering with a small gasp when he’s able to pinpoint why his mouth is watering so much. He’s dipping in and out of shops, stealthily following the two individuals who do not carry this scent themselves, but have faint traces on their person.

Thanks to the rise of the Empire and the fall of the Jedi, it’s been so long, decades even, since Ranik has been lucky enough to feast on a force sensitive individual and enhance his own force sensitivity. This one feels powerful. Unlike anything he’s felt before. His skin tingles at the thought of ingesting such a meal, and so he follows the unpleasant scent until the trail goes cold.

He doubles back to the jewelry stand where he saw the woman admiring a necklace, and he goes straight to the elderly Twi’lek sitting behind the table.

“The Mandalorian and the girl. Where did they go?” 

“What’s in it for me?” The old crone asks with a skeptical eye.

Ranik drops a small sack of credits in front of her, and the old woman snatches it up faster than a woman at her age normally moves.

“They went back to their ship. I think I over heard the Mandalorian call it the Razor something.”

“Crest. Razor Crest. Ex-military gunship and patrol model. Thank you for your services, madam.” Ranik says, dipping his head politely as he exits the jewelry stand. 

Then he heads for the docks, the hunger in his belly growing all the while.

*****

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

@luc-k-y | @theslytherinwriter |

[helix-enterprises117]

Fluff #16 and Misc #10 for the sentence starters!

16 - The Moon's Envy

The observation deck was always quiet at this hour, a sanctuary from the relentless pace of duty. The panoramic windows framed the vast, velvet expanse of space, where stars dotted the darkness like distant lighthouses. It was here that John and Linda found themselves after a long shift, both seeking a moment of reprieve under the night sky that was neither night nor sky but the infinite cosmos itself.

Linda leaned against the railing, her eyes tracing the contour of Earth’s moon. Its cratered surface was bathed in a soft, silver light that seemed almost delicate from this distance. She was usually a fortress of focus and command, but here, she allowed herself a moment to just be Linda, not Sierra-058, the Spartan.

John watched her from the corner of his eye, taking in how the moonlight accentuated the gentle curve of her cheek, the relaxed posture she rarely showed to others. He had always found her compelling, not just for her prowess in battle, but for these quiet, unguarded moments most never saw. With a small, almost imperceptible sigh, he ventured a step closer.

"Ever think the moon might get a bit jealous?" he asked, his voice carrying a light, teasing edge.

Linda turned, her expression one of mild amusement mixed with curiosity. "Jealous? Of me?"

"Yeah," John leaned on the railing beside her, his gaze still fixed on the moon, then slowly drifting back to her. "It’s been up there a long time, probably thought it was the best looker at the night party. Then you come along."

Her laugh, a rare sound that seemed too genuine and too light for the hardened warrior facade she wore, echoed softly between them. "So I’m upstaging the moon now, am I?" Her tone was playful, yet there was a warmth to it, the kind that invited a deeper conversation.

"Absolutely," John affirmed, turning to face her fully now. "I mean, it’s had a good run, but even the stars seem to shine a bit brighter when you’re around."

Linda rolled her eyes, but her smile was undeniable. "You have a way with words, John. A dangerously cheesy way, but I’ll give you points for originality."

John chuckled, the sound deep and heartfelt. "Maybe so. But tell me you don’t feel it—the quiet, the peace? Out here, it’s like we can just be John and Linda for a moment, not Spartans with the weight of the galaxy on our shoulders."

The softness in his voice drew her gaze, and for a moment, the universe seemed to pause, the constant hum of the ship fading into a hushed lull. "I do," she admitted, her voice softer now, stripped of the usual command. "Nights like this, they make it all seem... manageable."

They stood side by side in silence, watching the cosmos whirl in its slow, ancient dance. It was a shared moment of vulnerability, a mutual acknowledgment of their weariness and their resilience.

"You know," Linda started, after a long pause, turning to look at him with a thoughtful expression. "Maybe the moon isn’t jealous. Maybe it’s just glad to have some company, someone else to share the spotlight with."

John nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, maybe it is."

---

10 - Locked

The afternoon sun was blazing like a forge on the surface of a desolate, unnamed planet, where the only relief was the occasional cloud of dust kicked up by a stiff breeze. In this harsh landscape, an armored Warthog sat parked—a modern marvel of military engineering, now resembling nothing more than a massive, inert beetle under the relentless glare.

Private Jenkins, a marine whose luck ran as dry as the desert they were stranded in, shambled over to his squad with the gait of a man walking to his doom. His armor clanked with each step, broadcasting his shame like a bell tower at noon.

"Uh, so... I might've done something kinda stupid," Jenkins started, avoiding eye contact as he addressed his squad who were lounging in what little shade they could find under a pathetic excuse for a tree.

Sergeant Haskill, whose face was as craggy as the cliffs surrounding their makeshift base, raised an eyebrow—a simple move that had the weight of a thousand push-ups behind it. "Let's hear it then, Jenkins."

The private gulped, his voice squeaking slightly as he confessed, "I locked the keys... in the Warthog. Inside it. Like, fully locked in."The silence that followed was profound. Even the wind seemed to pause for a chuckle before continuing its dusty business.

"You what?" Haskill finally managed, the disbelief in his tone so thick you could've used it for cover fire.

"Yep, keys are just... sitting there. On the seat. Inside the locked Warthog," Jenkins mumbled, wishing the ground would swallow him up—or at least offer a hole to hide in.

Corporal Li, who had been tinkering with her combat knife, let out a snort that morphed into full laughter. "Oh, man, Jenkins! Only you could lock us out of our own ride with no enemies in sight to pressure you!"

"I've got an idea," chimed in Specialist Groves, always one to find a silver lining—or at least a technical workaround. She was already pulling a suspiciously convenient slim jim from her pack. "Let’s just consider this practice for when we really are under fire. Who needs a training sim, right?"

The marines gathered around the Warthog as Groves slid the slim jim into the door's seam with the precision of a surgeon—or a seasoned car thief. The click of the lock disengaging was like music, especially to Jenkins, who practically vibrated with relief.

"There we go! Warthog’s open, everyone back to not being stranded in the middle of nowhere," Groves declared, bowing slightly as if she'd just performed a magic trick."

Nice work, Groves. Jenkins, you're buying first round when we get back," Haskill said, clapping Jenkins on the back so hard he almost stumbled.

"Roger that, Sarge. I swear, I'll tape the keys to my hand next time," Jenkins replied, the relief palpable in his voice as he retrieved the keys with a grin that was a little too wide to be entirely relieved.

[leathr-blr]

i really wish i understood the appeal of milo murphys law but i just can't get into it :-( I've tried watching it but it's just so painfully mid

(i’m very critical about mml here but i end it positively don’t worry. essay under the cut)

i watched milo murphy’s law with my best friend and roommate ( @herbi-cide ) which gave me a more positive experience with the show as a whole but there were so many times were it just felt like a slog. i hesitate to call it “filler” because it’s a pretty episodic show (though theres much more of a plot than pnf) but i don’t particularly find the laid back contained story episodes very engaging or funny most of the time. i’ve seen people (KEYAN *shakes fist*) say this roots from a lack luster premise, but i think that a premise is always as good as it’s execution. and a lot of mml executes like ass. it is straight up disastrous. like milo murphy himself walked through the writers room one day leaving the writers to salvage whatever scraps were left among the wreckage

im really not confident in dwampy’s ability to write a plot-driven show, i think it’s obvious that they’re comfort zone lies in episodic comedies. which is awesome, we all have our skills and comfort zones, phineas and ferb is so great at what it does for a reason. but i think this is very much to mml’s detriment. there is so much set up for great storylines and likable characters, and so many good ideas, but like, either they didn’t have time to do anything with them or just straight up didn’t know how. it is genuinely impressive how boring mml can get given its cast and world

i think people blame pnf too much for the decline of mml in season 2, doofenshmirtz is insufferable throughout most of it and all, but i think the pnf shoehoring hints to a larger problem that mml always had. it feels as if it’s uncomfortable with its own characters and world, like it’s afraid to commit, and i think that is very much dwampy’s sitcom-oriented writing style shining through in an ugly way

i see people praise mml for its story, but because of dwampy’s aversion to writing linear storytelling, it definitely ranges on the plot-light side of television. it’s not quite a sitcom, but there’s really not much story progression happening aside from a few world building episodes and big arcs like the aliens or the pistachions (which phineas and ferb also does better in the meap saga let’s be real, at least for the alien arc)

i don’t like comparing mml to phineas and ferb, but one fails so hard at the things the other achieves in spades that it’s kind of impossible not to compare them. i wouldn’t mind mml’s shitty storytelling as much if the plot-light episodes (which is most of them) were compelling. phineas and ferb has just as good as a premise as murphy’s law, if not less interesting, and does the character-driven sitcom filler infinitely better in every single way. it is rare i’ll ever be bored watching phineas and ferb, and ik comedy is subjective, but i think a lot of us can agree that phineas and ferb is overall just wittier and funnier in general than mml. mml is kind of forgettable! i’ll be real! i love it but it’s forgettable

i want mml to be its own unique thing sooo bad but especially in the second half it feels like there’s no reason i shouldn’t just turn it off and go watch phineas and ferb. it’s also frustrating because i know mml has the capability to be good, because the pistachion arc is gripping and well structured and generally super entertaining (one of the best experiences i’ve had watching a show with a friend), and there’s a lot of fantastic episodes and moments in there. which is why i’m so harsh on it, it’s disappointing!!

there’s dozens and dozens of ultra talented people who worked on milo murphy’s law (i’ve gone through so many storyboards and portfolios to look for more details about the artists who worked on it so can confirm these people are awesome) so i can only wonder if studio conditions / time crunches / other factors (disney bullshitery) had anything to do with how spectacularly mml fails in a lot of regards, but there’s an upside, and this is the biggest appeal of murphy’s law for me:

the milo murphy’s law fandom and by extent the dakavendish fandom is one of the best fandoms i’ve ever seen hands down, some of the most dedicated and passionate writers, artists and general fans continue to be active in the community and create awesome shit that is leagues better than anything in the source material. because mml presents so many good concepts but doesn’t deliver, it leaves a lot of room for fans to expand on them and make their own amazing stuff. and because they’re such a small community, and milo murphy’s law is widely remembered as “that show that came after phineas and ferb” or “that show keyan carlile didn’t like” they are very close knit and very very friendly. nicest ppl you’ll ever meet

if it weren’t for the fandom i would not give a single shit about milo murphy’s law, but the fans make the show and it’s characters so much more than they are in the source material. so no wonder i had such a good time watching it when i had my roommate to talk about it with! community adds context to art in a way that can change it entirely, especially in the age of the internet

so i will always recommend murphy’s law with that in mind. also, think of it this way: at least it’s not hamster and gretel. i’ll stand by my opinion that show sucks LMAO

[goldendoodlerlockerlove]

who is your favorite bob's burgers character? what's your favorite aspect about them?? what's your LEAST FAVORITE??

Thank you so much @br1ghtestlight for giving me this ask!! 😭❣️ Just for the future, though, if anyone wants to give me an ask, it’ll have to be through this account, because any ask given through my main account disappears because I’m still Shadowbanned and Tumblr is mean 😒

But onto the actual question!! Well, Light, you already know my absolute favorite is 1,000% our precious baby boy, Gene. I think my favorite aspect about him is that he has some of the best lines in the show humor-wise, but he has a great deal of depth hidden underneath the surface. He’s genuinely an incredibly talented musician (even though he and show claims he only knows a few chords, come on, he’s actually super talented) and he’s such a sweet person. He doesn’t enjoy pranking people simply because it makes them confused and uncomfortable. He just wants people to be happy!! 🥺

He also has a bigger body type which is rarely commented on and he has a love of food which is super relatable to me (I just love food, pffffft). And the headcanons of him being Genderfluid gives me an insane amount of Serotonin. It just makes me insanely happy. As a Genderfluid person, it makes me feel seen and represented, even though he’s not canonically Genderfluid. Just seeing him be unapologetically himself is incredibly lovely.

Now, because there are just so many characters I love, I must list a second favorite. And that would be Bob!! Previously, I’ve said Linda, and don’t get me wrong, I still love her. She’s hilarious and amazing and truly the best wife (🎶 Best of Wives and Best of Women 🎶) but there’s just something about Bob that’s so relatable to me. He’s always tired but always tries his best. Not to mention that his passion for cooking and feeding people is just so sweet 🥹 He loves making food for people and having food bring people together!! It’s so lovely.

Bob is also super Introverted which I relate to very hard. He has a hard time making connections with other people, and has a tight-knit circle (AKA his family) that he prefers spending his time with. And he sometimes has difficulty talking to people without coming across as weird, which I also relate to. Plus, his little quirks are so endearing, like talking to inanimate objects and pretending they’re alive. And getting so hilariously excited about Thanksgiving 🤣

And Bob and Gene together brings one of the most underrated and sweetest relationships in the Belcher family. Their Father/Son relationship is always so adorable to see. The Laser-Inth will forever be my favorite Bob and Gene episode, and probably solidified these two as my favorites.

As for my least favorite, at first I was going to say that’s difficult, because I love almost every character in the show for one reason or another. But then I realized what the obvious choices are: Gloria and Al. They are the absolute worst. Linda deserves good, doting parents, and these two are the complete opposite of that in every way. Sure, maybe they were slightly better when Linda and Gayle were younger, but definitely not now. The Terminilator II: Terminals of Endearment really solidified just how awful they truly are.

Linda dropped everything to help them at the airport, even forcing Bob to close the restaurant for the rest of the day. Then the entire family went on a wild goose chase trying to track down both Gloria and Al, who somehow kept escaping from their line of sight. Only to find out that these two could’ve bought Al’s cream at the airport themselves the whole time. Not to mention the fact that they found out that Gloria just stole Bob’s charger and refuses to admit it. They keep making excuses for their horrible parenting and Linda just has to deal with it, which is wildly unfair.

Plus, Gloria once told Linda that they aren’t the type of people who build things?? Who says that to their daughter?? These two frustrate me to no end. Definitely the worst characters in the show, no contest.

Tina gets an honorable mention simply because of how relatable she is and how sweet she is. She just has such a kind heart like Gene (except when it comes to Tammy ☠️). But that’s okay, because Jimmy Jr. loves it when she’s mean 😌

As a treat for asking me this, here’s an image I found of the Burger Babies in Disney dresses!! Credit goes to whoever on Pinterest made this lovely image:

Also, because I need to be a gremlin every time I mention Gene, I’m going to promote Geneuary again, which begins on January 8!! Hype hype hype hype hype—

[kiirotoao]

Alright, I’ve had this happen three times now in my TikTok comments, and I wanted to write things down here if not addressed there. Here’s the three-time happening, in short: ‘why are you, as a girl, so obsessed with a gay mlm ship?’

And, oh boy. Look. Yes, I am a cisgender woman. Yes, I primarily ship Byler (cisgender males) over all other ships in Stranger Things. But do you realize how objective that is? I am more than my gender. So are the characters portrayed in film and media and thus Stranger Things. I think that there are indeed underlying issues and reasons for genders that are more praised in film and media and whatnot, but I think that that’s a large oversimplification of what’s going on, here.

Guess what? Two cisgender men created Stranger Things. Do you think it’s easy for cisgender men to write in the shoes of cisgender women and just automatically know the nuances and be comfortable writing for them? No. That’s why we have an opening of the show with our four main characters, four boys. Because this story is one of the Duffers’ love letter to being nerdy as once nerdy boys themselves. However, I think that the Duffers have created great opportunities for discourse on the issues that women face through Nancy and her struggles, especially in season 3, and if you want to talk about women and discrimination, please do! But I’m just here trying to ship my ship. I talk about inter-relational issues, not gender issues. Are gender issues important? Absolutely, but I clearly don’t talk about them on my page. Maybe I can be more clear about that. I’m currently considering saying this in reply to the people who asked. I get it. There are no rules on my page, so it’s an open book.

But what I take issue with and what makes me passionate enough to write all of this is that the comments were clearly made to break me down and question, in essence, why I’m shipping males as a female. Well, to answer that, when I went into shipping Byler, I thought about what was happening in front of me as a story whole: two best friends, one lost and then found, empathetically and lovingly sticking by each other and being honest to each other through blood, sweat, and tears, facing an emotional and then physical rift, rejoining and rekindling their love, and finally deciding to stand by each other in the face of the world crumbling before them. No. Gender. Attached.

Byler are simply written as male characters and I’d take no issue if they were females and I think I’d still ship them the same if they were. But at the end of they day, they weren’t. They are males. And that’s not why I like talking about them. I like their character traits, not their goddamn DNA. But all that being said, I also won’t hide it, I do ship women, too. I like Ronance. God, I really like Ronance. Even if they very likely won’t be canon, I adore their moments in season 4 and love me a good sun-and-moon dynamic. I also like Elmax. I think that those two genuinely make each other happy which I find plain adorable. I even have a friend who has convinced me to see the light of comphet Joyce and Karen having a grade school fling before ultimately marrying heteronormatively.

Thing is, there are far less women featured as main characters in Stranger Things than there are men. And so that is just how it goes around here. And I didn’t have a problem with that to talk about it until it was presented as one.

Also, side note, I just started watching Grey’s Anatomy, and my current favorite relationship is between Meredith and Cristina, who are - guess what? - women. So, okay. Here it is. Bare bones down to gender, yeah, I actually do like sapphic wlw ships, too.

At the end of the day, this is my cry: please don’t assume that my fixation on Byler is because I - as a girl - like talking about boys.

That stung, a little, as someone who wrestled with her own sexuality for years and rarely had crushes and never really properly liked boys at all. I think that I feel like I need to make a video stating my sexuality because of this, and that makes me a little uncomfortable. But I’m putting it out here because I feel just a little safer. So let me be clear. I am aromantic-asexual.

So please just trust me. This is not about Byler being boys.

[flowersandbess]

Tom goes to an auction with Greg and is all excited about some rare vintage car. He’s so sure he’s going to get it, but in the middle of the bid-war some Silicon Valley lizard person makes a bid that not even Tom can match.

To not feel emasculated in front of Greg, Tom decides to bid on some other random vintage car and wins. He tries to make it seem like he still got what he wanted somehow. He pulls up his phone and starts researching it, he shows Greg “See, Greg. It’s an original prototype. I own a piece of Porsche’s history”

“Oh wow! Is it- uh- is it still safe to drive? If it’s a prototype?”

“Of course it is!” Tom immediately shuts Greg down, but he genuinely doesn’t know and it kinda freaks him out.

Later in the day Tom gets a call and has to leave the auction, which means he begrudgingly hands over his new car’s keys to Greg. He tells him to be careful. Watch out for potholes. Don’t even hit a bug with with because it’s exploded stomach acid could ruin the paint job.

So Greg drives it, and he’s almost nauseatingly nervous at first. But then he sees how people on the street react to the car and he starts to feel like The Shit. At a red light he sees a lady staring, one that Tom would probably find pretty, so he rolls down the window to make conversation.

“It’s an original prototype” he says, almost too soft to detect, but then his voice suddenly swells up “it’s sorta like driving a, uh, a piece of Porsche’s history”. She doesn’t really care but is smiling politely. The light turns green and the cars behind Greg start to honk

“Oh- that’s my cue!” Greg says and starts to drive off, instantly hitting a cyclist that he didn’t see (they’re fine but the hood of the car is fucked).

Greg anxiously waits for Tom to come back home, he’s too scared to call him and tell him over the phone.

When Tom gets there, he honest to god doesn’t care about what happened to the car, but it’s a good excuse to yell at Greg. So he spends nearly and hour berating him. Maybe he even threatens to take away Greg’s bonus, to “pay for the damages”. But really he’s just being a dick to Greg because it amuses him.

[faize-art]

AFTERWARD: OF SWORD & SHIELD (Ch. 2)

Previous Chapter

As you enter the location Withers had provided you with for the reunion party, you find yourself familiar with the area.

“There you are.” Shadowheart greets you with an unexpected hug. “I was wondering if you were ever going to show up. Ah—and it looks like you do know how to dress up when you feel like it.”

You hug her back. Her hug is tight and comforting as the both of you stand near the water’s edge.

This is where it all began. You recall. Where Lae’zel, Gale, Shadowheart, Astarion, and you first camped out in the wilderness together between Roadside Cliffs and Emerald Grove.

“I’m a busy mind flayer,” you half-joke with her as you let go of each other.

“I don’t doubt that.” She remarks with a giggle and a bright smile. “Hm. You feel more…supple.”

“And you look good too,” you compliment her back.

“I know.” She smiles confidently. “It sure beats having to scavenge for food. Ugh. I remember nights when we barely had anything to scrape by with.”

“…” You reflect on her comment. Your memory of the camp supplies growing scarce a rare occurrence since you made it a priority to stockpile on the daily.

“So, tell me, what have you been up to? Still adventuring?”

You observe Shadowheart for a second. She is genuinely content with her life, and that notion gives you a sense of untroubled joy for her.

“The Emperor and I have been busy making plans, and it has been proving itself promising,” you say without further explanation.

Her face contorts a bit. An expected expression of concern, doubt, and happiness mixed into one.

“As long as this Grand Plan doesn’t involve innocent mass murder or tadpoles, I’ll leave you two to it,” she says in a teasing manner.

“And you? What have you been up to?” You ask.

“Mostly adventuring myself. Though, I do not know if I would call myself a full-out Selûne follower yet,” she pauses for a moment and then resumes. “But I’m willing to find out.”

“Will you become Selûne rhetoric?”

“Oh gods, no. I don’t know how you were able to put up with all that.”

“It was manageable.”

She laughs at your response and then says, “I know my parents were devoted followers of Selûne. With Shar…I was never given the chance to choose. At least this time around, I have a choice and can pave my own path even without my past memories.”

“Your parents will be proud of you, Shadowheart.”

She smiles softly at you. Her fond memories of adventuring alongside you sentimental. And the single kiss the two of you shared beneath the dark skies that night with a bottle of vintage wine poured into your brass goblets, unforgettable. “Thank you, Tav. That means a lot. Now, don’t let me stop you from catching up with everyone else. I’m sure they all want to catch up as well. I will see you around.”

You hug each other again, and then you wander away from the moonlit water’s edge to the blazing bonfire lighting up the night sky where Wyll happily danced.

After you had bid farewell to Wyll and his newfound mercenary life, you float to view the elaborate spread of savory dishes and fruit on the extended dining table.

No brains. You confirm. It seems Withers has somehow forgotten you are a mind flayer, or perhaps Withers intended there to be no brains at the party except for your friends. After all, a mind flayer only needs to consume an intelligent brain for its psionic energy biweekly—a brain once a week being a luxury for any privileged illithid.

“My heart.” A much older man’s voice stops you from viewing the spread.

“Halsin,” you greet him with a twinkle in your barely noticeable black-green irises.

“You would think someone of my vintage would be inured to the passage of time, yet these past six months have seemed endless without your company. But now our paths cross once more…” he poetically says in that sentimental druid fashion of his.

“Let me guess. Just as fate intended?” You lightly tease him in return.

His soft hazelnut eyes peer down at you with much glee. He cannot help himself from letting out a chuckle along with that familiar wide grin of his.

“Yes. Just as fate intended,” he sheepishly agrees. “I cannot help but idle on the times we all have spent together. It weighs me down and causes me to miss everyone…everything.”

You glance at Halsin with listening ears, his soothing voice playing like a comforting lullaby, and it makes you recall the first time you met within the prison cells of the goblin camp. Albeit you did not care for the old hunky druid in the beginning since you had too much on your mind—and in it. Yet, he had a way of gently rooting himself into your life like oak seedling and soil.

He looks handsome. Your wandering mind informs you. You subconsciously eye Halsin’s crisp attire he has on. His clothing of choice enhances his appeal. It is a fine combination.

“Ah. Forgive me if I am talking too much,” Halsin suddenly stops himself from engaging in speech any further. “I tend to have a habit of rambling nonstop, and oftentimes, I catch myself too late.”

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him. “I like to listen to you talk. It is calming.”

He chuckles out of slight nervousness, smiling ever so gently your way. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

You smile back at him, your beady eyes squinting in endearment. “You seem…under. Perhaps you would like a hug to ease your discomfort?”

Without any hesitation, Halsin’s large arms pull you into an embrace. His body is tough, yet warm like an old hearth filled with undying flames prancing quietly about on a cool night, and his muscular arms that are wrapped around your much slimmer frame holds onto you tightly like a long-lost lover. You lean into each other with quiet sighs and closed eyes, seconds of this very moment fleeting by.

Hm? A strong sensation of safety mixed with arising lust and drunken love pulses through your cerebellum. You sense Halsin may have other intentions hidden from you, and as tempting as it may be to sexually probe his mind, you ignore it.

“Ah, there it is. That is what I have been missing,” he comments on with another sigh before you let go of each other.

“You aren’t afraid?” You ask.

“How can I be when I know you are my heart.”

His words melt you, and you chuckle lightly in thought. “I recall you have quite a few young wards to care for—nine wagons of them, wasn’t it?”

“Ah, my greatest purpose, and greatest reward. Those children have been through more than fate had any right to cast at them, and yet they go on, as resilient as anything in nature. I impart what knowledge I can to them, yet in truth they teach me far more. The land we save is theirs, and they will cherish it, I am sure. Thaniel and Oliver shall never want for friends ever again.”

“Is this the balance you were speaking about back then?”

“It is…but it also isn’t.”

“Why is that?”

Halsin explains to you in detail the downsides of his perceived vision, but it is thoroughly countered with how lush the fields are and how rapidly the population is rising in Reithwin Town and Moonrise. How, after the Shadow Curse was broken, the entirety of the landscape has changed dramatically and is barely recognizable now. He talks deeply and fondly about the children and how he nurtures and cares for them like they are his own, and it inspires you in your own illithid way of who you once were. If anything, you probably would have been happy being at Halsin’s side, too, if you did not turn.

“I will definitely have to pay Reithwin a visit,” you inform him.

“Yes, you should,” Halsin agrees. “In fact, I was thinking that you should visit whenever you please to. I do not see why we should only gather like this when we can meet more often. After all, my door is always open for you. All of you.”

“Thank you, Halsin.”

You embrace each other’s body again, and then he plants a kiss onto your forehead. Surprising you.

“Before you go, I have something for you—just a little keepsake, really.” He quickly reaches into his bag, pulling out an object. “Do you remember how I told you I like to whittle? I made this…”

In the palm of his large tan hand lay a wooden carved duck. The jagged strokes in its every curvature nicked with care and the details of its wings smooth.

Halsin once mentioned liking ducks…and honey. You dimly remember.

“Ducks are my favorite, but I thought they were particularly fitting in this case. They are migratory birds, of course, traveling far and wide with the turn of the seasons.” He hands the gift to you, and you carefully receive it, your fingertips grazing each other’s. “Yet they always find their way back to where they belong, just like old friends find themselves back in each other’s company.”

“It is lovely. Thank you for the thoughtful gift.”

“Uh-hum, yes. Now…do not let me hog you all to myself. The night is still young, and you still have plenty of friends to talk to. I will be here if you need anything, my treasure.”

You float away with the wooden duck in hand. A bit of ways away from the flickering bonfire, you sit down on a fallen log to admire the whittled masterpiece in your hand.

“Hey, it’s you, so you did show up!” A gleeful voice with many elongated tones in it welcomes you. “I wasn’t sure our withered old friend would live up to his promise, but here we are.”

“Good to see you, Astarion,” you greet him.

“Gods, did the old Druid make that for you? Pft. I didn’t think you were the sentimental type since you’re—well…you know,” he gestures at you with both arms swaying up and then down. “Sooo. How have you been darling? What have you been up to? At least I assume it is you in there. It’s a little hard to tell.”

You put Halsin's gift away and kindly smile at the pale elf. “The Emperor and I have been busy. I would indulge you with the details, but unfortunately, I cannot.”

“Well…that doesn’t sound ominous at all,” he awkwardly laughs it off.

“How are you faring? Not drunk on blood, are you?”

“Oh please,” he scoffs in a semi-haughty way, “I know how to control myself, dear. There’s no need to worry. Anyway, I have been doing…good, thank you.”

You do not pry into his mind, but you read his facial expressions and his body language. He isn’t lying. He is doing well.

“I am happy for you. Truly,” you wholeheartedly reply.

“As am I,” he remarks with bits of his sinister-like giggles mixed into his own self-realization. “You know, I’ve taken a turn as an adventurer and hero. And it turns out that no one actually cares about murder. So long as you murder the right people, no one cares. And apparently, I am rather good at it. Hah! Would you believe that?”

“Astarion, a hero? Who would have guessed?” You joke back.

“Darling, please. I am still me. Perhaps more ‘me’ than I have ever been. I also find the whole hero thing rather fun sometimes—not that it wasn’t fun when I was with the team.”

“Noted.”

“But you know, during these six months of simply trying to survive, I learned to embrace who I am. What I am. Part of that was learning to embrace the shadows instead of trying to run away from it. It’s funny, because at first, I thought I was trapped by the shadows and cursed to live in them forever. But in time, I realized that darkness is as much a part of me as my fangs are. After all, it is only a curse so long as I refuse to embrace the shadows. So, I decided I would.”

“Does that mean you don’t miss walking out in the sun anymore?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still do miss it. And I don’t think I will ever stop trying to look for a cure, but learning to embrace what I am, and doing what I want to do and not what others want me to do has been life changing.”

A slight murmur to your heart ripples throughout your pale-mauve body, and a pulsing sensation of insuperable elation floods your entirety. You are happy. “Really. I am glad to see you happy with yourself, with your life. That is all I wish for, for you.”

Astarion smiles charmingly at you, his smile relaxed and filled with sentiment.

“Thank you darling,” he says with a sincere smile.

***

While Withers’ reunion party was pleasant, catching up with everyone was surprisingly and unexpectedly pleasing. You return to the Knights of the Shield at the break of dawn. The reason for your late arrival home was because there were no brains served at the party, or at least no dead and ready-to-be served brains to your avail.

With a turn of the key, the heavy and sturdy door unlocks itself, and you invite yourself into the main entrance of the guild's stone covered hall.

“Welcome back, Master Tav,” Nevine is quick to greet you, her body stripped of her usual medium armor and covered in lightweight loungewear, and her hefty greatsword lay at her side as she sits directly across the extended Main Hall table facing the main entrance door.

“Still awake?” You question her while locking the sturdy door and then sticking the key back into your pocket.

“I could not rest,” she gives you a curt reply after seeing you have returned home as your mind flayer self, covered mildly in blood.

“Judging from your response, you are agitated,” you point out.

“How can I not be when you have disappeared for longer than usual Master? I thought you would certainly be back by midnight. And by the gods, it is past twilight hours, and you return to your quarters a bloodied mess.”

You sigh. “You are worrying too much, Nevine. I can manage myself. I am not as feeble as you think. And this…this is but the blood of a criminal I stalked outside of the city.”

“But you are a mind flayer. Do you not worry about your own safety?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Yet you are as reckless as the Emperor, and I am stuck here worrying if you will return today or not,” she complains, her agitation turning into dejection.

You study her. Sense her. Feel her every thought that is deliberately spilling out. And then you apologize.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Know that it is not intentional. I am simply busy. Please understand that much.”

Her fiery golden yellow eyes peer over at you harshly and then soften. “Yes. I know. I am trying to. I just cannot help but feel like a failure if I were to fail protecting you. What will I do then? Can you imagine the things the Emperor will smite onto us…to me? You are an irreplaceable asset.”

Nevine mildly reminded you of Karlach. They were not the same, but their passion for those they care for burned near the same. Although Karlach was no longer here amongst your former allies, you think of her often. How the rising yellow-orange hues of the morning sun had gradually risen above the reflective orange salt waters that day, and how she had groveled onto her armored rose red knees at the end of the dock huffing and breathing heavily with a hand on her chest before her mechanical heart finally gave out.

“I adore you,” she had said to you before bursting into cinders in front of everyone.

A sense of guilt begins to encumber you as Nevine’s golden yellow eyes weep over in your direction, and you find yourself perplexed about past grievances.

Perhaps you should have granted Karlach that final request she was so sure of and allowed her to become a mind flayer in your stead. If you did, she would still be here to this day, and Astarion and you would have worked out. Or, perhaps you should have ventured down to Avernus with her and fought alongside her for a cure or an upgraded fix just as she fought alongside you. Perhaps. Yet, you were selfish and took those options away from her.

You set aside your inner turmoil of feelings and straighten yourself out. Logic over any emotional outburst will help you maintain a sense of control and balance.

“Nevine my loyal confidant, if you are unable to sleep after an hour, let me know, and I will make you a vile of mild sleeping potion,” you chastise her before leaving the guild hall area. “Sleep is essential in order to properly operate the following day, and I do not wish ill on you…”

Nevine nods her head and then bows lightly. You can sense the sadness in her heart. Her loyalty to you is unceasing and one-sided, and her unsaid love for you unreciprocated.

***

You lay in bed with one hand clasped over the other. Your hands resting on your bare pale-mauve chest and your breathing calm and steady. Nevine’s harsh words from earlier loop in your brain as you gradually wake from your light slumber.

“Yet you are as reckless as the Emperor, and I am stuck here worrying if you will return today or not,” her voice repeats itself.

It dawns on you that you may be putting too much trust into the Emperor venturing out from the city to network. Then again. Why should you worry? You know the Emperor is capable, and he has managed fine so far.

But what if his luck runs out? You ponder. He was lucky and saved by Ansur the first time…and the second time he became enthralled, it was due to Gortash. Will he be lucky a third time if he were to encounter another Elder Brain?

You think back on Nevine's expression. How her fiery golden eyes wavered so passionately after saying those words to you. How she was trying her hardest not to burst into tears like a child even though she is a grown Tiefling.

Ah…I see. You acknowledge her standpoint. That must be how she views me in her eyes.

You chuckle to yourself in amusement. To Nevine, you are like another Emperor—self-preserving, freedom seeking, and relying on luck to survive in an Illithid shunned world; survival, independence, acceptance, and ambition being your core values. That is quite ironic. You comment on, knowing very well that you are merely another Nevine waiting on their Emperor to return home with trifling unease.

-

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[eirwenxmp]

Esther smiled at the other. She provided a quick head nod. She had been through the park several times so far, and as she chose to eat out more than in, she had frequented the stall quite a bit. Whether the other would enjoy it, she could only find out. However, she was hopeful. "No problem." She states warmly, and once she knows that the other is ready to go, the demigoddess moved her arms behind her back as she started walking into the direction of the stall. "I tend to spend a lot of time in the park. It's rather pretty. So far, no matter the season, there is either something to do or some sight to see." Circe? That sounded familiar. A goddess likely in a story she read during her college studies. Though she was rather curious to know more of the powers, she chose to let that happen down the future. "Wow! I've been to the bakery a few times. I have not been let down yet!" She praises warmly. "I am a musician for Noonas. I play most nights, so if you are ever planning to make a reservation, try to aim for then so you can see me." Esther offered her a light smile. Nothing beat yummy food and her music together. That was a fact. "Are you new to the island?"

Eirwen listened to the other demigoddess with a light smile on her face, as she could see that Esther was, at least temporarily, released from the grip of her own misery. 

“You’ve just made me realize that I should come here more often,” Eirwen commented, matching her pace with that of her new friend. “I’ve been walking past this place several times, but rarely spend time here, either because I’m too caught up with things or don’t have enough energy for it.” 

What Eirwen had read about  Skuld in mythology got her curious, yet it may not be the best time to ask one of the goddess’ demigod daughters about her. As Esther had just recovered from an emotional breakdown, Eirwen assumed it would be better to keep their conversation light-hearted.

“Thank you, I’m glad that you’ve got good experiences at Black Forest.” She responded with a bright smile, her words may appear to be over-professional, but Eirwen’s joy was genuine. “May I ask which products of the bakery are your favourite?” 

Her eyes opened slightly rounder in nice surprise as Esther revealed her occupation and workplace. Despite not showing up at many musical events, Eirwen enjoyed music, and she had grown deep respect and appreciation for singers and performers. “That’s so cool! When I find a chance to come to Noona, I’ll definitely check with the restaurant to catch your performance!”

Eirwen noticed just now that they had gone out of the park and got on the way leading to the night market. The streets were moderately busy, most stores were still open, and she realized it had been a while since the last time she went out at this time of the day. It was a rather inexplicable feeling, but it was not bad at all, especially when she got a new companion. 

“Hmmm, if we’re talking about how long I’ve stayed here, then I’m not really new anymore,” she explained to Esther, finding it slightly embarrassing to admit. “But if you mean my experiences on this island, then yeah, I’m still new to it. I’ve spent most of my time at the bakery and in my apartment, quite boring, I know.” 

She quickly scanned over the surroundings, gazing at the blinking neon signs of the stores, before a question came to her mind. She turned to look at Esther, asking. “What are some interesting things you’ve noticed about this island so far?”

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜

Esther had been sitting outside on one of the benches. She had a lot on her mind lately. Where she thought she had finally been coming out of a funk, the joy she had built up seemed to collapse in seconds. She could only save face for so long before she finally could no longer. And, seated in a place she thought she would be alone, she finally allowed herself to cry.

When the other sat beside her, she stared at the other with widened eyes. Tears stopped, only because she was immediately embarrassed that she was caught in her moment of weakness. "I--." She speaks, voice wavering as her lower lip quivered. It only took seconds for her sobs to come back. "I am sorry. I am fine. I promise."

[neiptune]

rain is bad luck

pairing: sanemi x female reader

warnings: cursing, an almost anxiety attack, a lil blood/wounds, a lil angst

wc: 4.6k I'm so sorry

Sanemi isn’t very good at remembering that some people care and need his ass to come back alive from missions

Storms made you nervous.

You didn’t exactly succeed at getting used to the colder, harsher climate you were met with when you decided to leave the Okinawa prefecture to move to the mountains, ready as ever to begin your training to become a demon slayer. 

Considering everything you had lost, it was dumb for you to find yourself missing the sun or the sea so often. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel tense whenever rain fell as if an invisible hand hovering above decided to violently empty buckets on buckets of water.

Your dad used to say storms were bad luck and you always believed him. After all, everything you had lost, you had lost while it rained.

The hashira meeting ended on a hopeful note: Muichiro and Tengen had just returned from a successful mission and the demon slayer ranks seemed to have suffered less casualties in the previous months. Master Ubuyashiki was content and the pillars felt more motivated than ever, everything was fine. So why did the goddamn weather have to ruin it for you?

Some of the members decided to stay at the estate for a while longer, they rarely had the chance to spend some time with other people and the storm was a good enough excuse not to hit the road right away. Amane-san had been kind enough to serve some tea and you all sat happily on the engawa, chatting animadetly. Well, not all of you, since Giyu and Obanai sat in religious silence, occasionally looking outside and frowning, but that was nothing unusual.

You grabbed two cookies from the big plate that was placed in front of you and handed them to both without saying a word. You couldn’t force them to have a conversation but you didn’t want them to feel left out.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be fun? There are a few next to a village I patrol, I think you’d love it!”

The insect hashira smiled politely.

“I can’t really say that matches my idea of fun”.

Mitsuri pouted.

“Why not? It’s relaxing and we’d get to spend some time together. You can’t refuse, it’s me and y/n against you, right?”, she lightly nudged you with her elbow. 

“Sorry, what?”, you had stopped listening without even realizing, mesmerized by the leaves bent from the heavy rain falling on master Ubuyashiki’s beautiful garden.

“I’m trying to convince her to take part in an onsen getaway, please actively support the idea instead of zoning out!”

You blinked a few times.

“Right. That’d be nice but we don’t really have the time, do we?”

Kanroji rolled her eyes.

“Not with that attitude, we don’t. What are you so distracted by? You haven’t said a word in ten minutes!”

You cleared your throat, taking a sip from the cup you were holding with both hands. 

“I’m not distracted”.

“You seem worried”, Shinobu tilted her head slightly. 

“It’s just that I hate this weather. I’m officially supportive of the onsen getaway plan, I’m sick of feeling cold all the damn time”, you laughed, hoping they would follow. 

Instead, Shinobu sighed heavily and Mitsuri leaned alarmingly close to your face, eyes glimmering with a mischievous light.

“I know what you’re really worried about”.

You put the emptied cup down on the floor and looked at her, genuinely taken aback.

“What?”

Her rosy cheeks extended to show a smile so bright it could have blinded you.

“Shinazugawa-san isn’t back yet, is he?”

Thank fuck you had finished your tea and could no longer choke on it.

“What? ”, you repeated, playing a little too dumb for her liking. Kanroji’s patience wasn’t infinite.

“You spent the entire meeting looking over at his empty seat. It’s fine to admit that you’re worried, he’s not here to hear you say it anyway”.

“I’m not worried, Mitsuri”.

It was true, you weren’t. He was strong enough for you not to get worried by his longer-than-usual absence. Plus, when he walked past the entire group right when you were entering the estate, he gave you his usual shit eating grin as you asked where he was going.

Priority mission, he announced proudly.

Try not to become the dinner.

Get fucked.

The love hashira snorted and was about to say something but, much to everyone’s surprise, Obanai anticipated her.

“He’s late”, he observed, speaking for the first time in what felt like forever.

You shifted nervously in your seat on the floor, suddenly feeling the concrete danger of anxiety overwhelming you. 

“It happens all the time. It happens to all of us. Can we go back to the onsen topic?”, you were one step away from begging and Kanroji knew when to get the hint so she smiled again, taking your hand and squeezing it lightly.

“Yes. Even if it’s just for one day, we should go. Actually, we probably won’t have an entire day off anytime soon, so what if we go for a few hours?”, she turned towards Shinobu, looking at her with her signature big, puppy eyes.

The insect hashira sighed again but smiled nonetheless.

“I’m fine with a few hours”, she gave in, earning a triumphant squeal from Kanroji.

Giyu stood up, you guessed he was getting increasingly annoyed by the noise you guys were making.

“Tomioka-san, don’t go yet. You’ll get drenched”, you tried as hard as usual. It felt so unfair for him to be the only one without a proper friend in the group and although you knew friendship wasn’t something you could force on him or anyone else, you hated the idea of not even trying.

“I’ll be fine”, he replied, giving you a small nod. You hoped it was his way of saying thank you.

“Are you sure?”, Kanroji, sweet and kind as always, looked just as worried.

There was no chance for him to reply because a crow suddenly appeared over your heads, flying in desperate circles.

“Kocho Shinobu urgently needed at the Butterfly Estate! Shinazugawa Sanemi in critical condition! Kocho Shinobu urgently needed at the Butterfly Estate!”, the animal was screaming so loudly the sound of the rain seemed to disappear for a moment.

Something cold crawled inside your stomach, it felt like steel. A sour taste took over your mouth, heart pumping in your ears.

Mitsuri was still holding your hand, eyes wide. You didn’t even notice everyone had been on their feet the second the crow started screaming. 

“Don’t panic”, she whispered, voice shaky. 

“Shinobu”, it was the only thing you could let out, throat dry.

“You can come but I have to be quick”.

“I’ll catch up”.

You blinked, she was gone. Oh the days you have spent begging her to train you to be faster.

“Whatever it is, she’ll fix it”, Mitsuri squeezed your hand one last time before letting it go. 

Yes, she will. I’m not worried, I won’t be worried. It happens all the time. It happens to all of us.  

You looked at Obanai and gave him a fake, tense smile.

“It’s gonna be fine. Please don’t worry, I’ll send a crow”.

It helped, taking the role of the one who should’ve reassured someone else. It meant you didn’t have the time to give in to the blind terror threatening to engulf your brain and every other cell of your being. 

Obanai nodded at you.

“Go”, he simply said.

“This is taking too long. Does it usually take this long?”, you ask nervously for the millionth time. She has been nothing but patient and kind, considering the increasingly freaked out state you were in. 

You were cold and wet and breathless when you arrived at the Butterfly Estate. Aoi was quick to bring you some towels and you absentmindedly used one to dry your face, too distracted to care about being absolutely drenched and freezing.

“It can take longer sometimes. Shinazugawa-san was badly injured but Kocho-san always knows what to do”, Aoi spoke calmly, hoping to relieve your stress even if just a little. She offered a change of clothes, more towels, herbal tea, but you refused everything and just stood in front of Shinobu’s treatment room for what felt like excruciating hours. 

“The crow said he was in critical condition. At least tell me more about his injuries”, you begged, voice going up an octave.

She hesitated but you took her hands in yours, leaning closer.

“Aoi, please. Just tell me something. Anything ”, you cried. Fuck dignity, you didn’t need it anymore. He was not there to hear you anyway.

“Crushed ribs, probably a punctured lung. He hit his head and we couldn’t stop the bleeding. Whatever he was fighting, it covered him in deep wounds all over his back and legs, he also threw up a concerning amount of blood right before collapsing in our garden”.

You quickly blinked a few times, breath getting more and more irregular. 

“What if the rib punctures the heart?”, you asked, slowly sitting on the floor because you no longer trusted your legs. Aoi was quick to kneel in front of you.

“That’s very rarely seen, y/n-san. Please-”

“He dies, right? If he moved the wrong way after getting injured, he’ll die. I don’t want to sit here and wait for it to happen, let me in”.

Her face crumpled.

“It’s not gonna happen. Kocho-san will handle it, please just wait-”

“Don’t”, you interrupted her reasonable and optimistic pep talk because you simply couldn’t take it anymore. 

God, you were so angry at him. You just knew he had to have pulled some stupidly reckless, overconfident shit again. He always did, he never cared about anything or anyone enough to keep in mind that maybe someone needed for him to come back alive.

Fuck him, fuck his cocky attitude, fuck the day you gave in to the unbearable physical attraction you felt and found yourself in his futon three nights in a row. Dumbest thing you ever did, worst person you ever started caring for.

“Y/n”.

You got up the second you heard her voice, Aoi istinctively supporting you.

Shinobu wasn’t smiling, a bad sign, but she didn’t seem alarmed. You didn’t say anything, waiting for her to drop the news. Any news.

“We’re gonna have to wait for him to wake up. He lost a concerning amount of blood but I took care of that. I honestly believe he’s gonna be fine and yes, before you ask, you can see him. But first you have to get rid of those clothes because I don’t want two of my most difficult patients here injured and sick at the same time”.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You never wanted to hug her so badly but you knew that she didn’t love that kinda stuff, so you just squeezed her shoulder.

“Thank you, Shinobu”, you whispered. 

She finally have you a familiar small smile and put her hand over yours.

“You can change in my office, I asked the girls to provide one of my clean uniforms”.

And you did. You stumbled all the way to the room you’ve visited so many times, since the very first day you became part of the corps.

Although as a hashira she was still your superior, you soon became close enough to drop the honorifics and any other formality. With Mitsuri, it had been even easier. You remained respectful of every other member of the group, except for Muichiro, because you honestly refused to address a fourteen-year-old as Tokito-san. He didn’t seem to care anyway.

You folded your wet uniform the best you could and put on Shinobu’s dry one. It was warm and smelled like lavender, much like her. You noticed how shaky your hands were and felt so incredibly stupid all of a sudden.

What did you panic so much about? You were familiar with injuries, you have had broken ribs before. Hell, Tomioka was pushed down from a temple just a few weeks before. You were slayers, you got hurt all the damn time, you didn’t have the luxury of hesitation, of fear. Your reaction had been embarrassing.

“Y/n-san, everything okay?”, Aoi peeked through the half-open door.  

You turned around quickly, folded damp clothes in your hands.

“Yes, uh, sorry. Where should I put these?”

God, she must think I’m such an idiot. I won’t be able to show up here ever again.

Aoi smiled at you and extended her arms.

“I’ll take them. Kocho-san thinks Shinazugawa-san could wake up any moment now, you can go be by his side”.

Fuck, this is mortifying. Does she think I’m his girlfriend or something? Good, that’s what you get for overreacting like a dumbass.

You thanked her with a small bow, to which she replied by blushing.

Shinobu was waiting for you at the door but before she could say anything, you folded your hands and faked a smile.

“Look, I think it’s not necessary after all. I’ll head back to the headquarters, maybe tell Iguro-san that everything’s fine and call it a day. I’m sorry for having bothered-”

“Y/n”, her interruption was gentle but imperative. When she used that tone you easily remembered that she was, in fact, one of your superiors. 

“You are allowed to care. Go, and if he gets difficult you can tell him that I asked for your help, alright?”

You scoffed.

“He knows you don’t need any help”.

“He doesn’t know how bad I can make a medicine taste, so he better watch it”.

She had such a special way of comforting others. Shinobu wasn’t as physically affectionate as Mitsuri and yourself but she was caring, generous, always observant enough to know just the right thing to say. You were older than her but you felt so much younger every single time.

“Fine”, you said, and she gave you a small push, before you got the chance to change your mind again. 

The room was almost completely dark but your eyes would get used to it soon enough. It smelled terrible, like antiseptic, sweat, blood and medicinal herbs. He was laying on a futon, looking so frail you feared he would crumble under your stare alone. Bandages were wrapped around his head and, you guessed, around almost every other inch of his body. Were all of them already crimson stained just like the ones you could see?

“You look like shit”, you muttered, slowly sitting on your heels, just beside his futon. The room became purple for a whole second and the sudden loud crack of the thunder made you flinch.

The silence that followed was unbearable but you used it to close your eyes and calm your breathing, just like Rengoku-san had teached you to do so many times. You were so used to maintaining the swordsman breathing technique used to strengthen demon slayers in combat, that you found it hard to remember what it meant to breathe just to heal or calm yourself down.

You opened your eyes, heart still slamming concerningly hard against your ribcage. 

“Hey. Sanemi, I really need you to wake up. Please, wake up. I can’t stay here all day, you know? I’m busy”, you paused for a second, clearing your throat. Should’ve asked Aoi for some water or accepted the damn tea.

Yeah, the breathing wasn’t working. Rengoku-san didn’t know shit. What if Shinobu just told you what you wanted to hear? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was so badly injured he would’ve had to retire as a hashira and you never saw him again? Not that you needed to see him. You just hated the idea of the demon slayer ranks further dropping in number. 

“Fucking hell, am I gonna have an anxiety attack in front of him?”, you angrily muttered to yourself, one hand pressed to your chest, cold sweat covering your forehead, breathing still irregular. “I need you awake and talking, please Sanemi, just wake up”, you raised your voice ever so slightly, too afraid to touch him, growing scared and impatient by the minute. Didn’t Shinobu say any moment now?

“Can’t remember the last time you called me that”.

You almost jumped out of your skin at his low, husky voice; istinctively pulling back with a gasp.

His eyes opened so slowly it made you think he was channeling all of his remaining energy into an action so simple. The expression that took over on his face showed surprise, maybe even confusion. 

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, looking at you with furrowed brows.

You stared back in shock.

“What’s wrong? You almost fucking died, that’s what’s wrong!”, you snapped, too upset to enjoy the relief taking over your heart, which was finally slowing down.

He scoffed, lips wearily curled in his signature smirk.

“Takes more than a sorry ass demon to kill me”.

“Shut the fuck up, Sanemi”, you hissed, “this stupid mindset is exactly why you’re laying there looking like hell right now”.

He paused for a moment, staring at you with inquisitive eyes. Then he tried to sit up but you were quick to keep him down, your entire being burning with rage and dread at the same time.

“Don’t move, you dumbass”, you ordered, pushing his shoulders ever so delicately. You were terrified he was gonna manage to hurt himself even more.

He groaned.

“Then come closer”.

You ignored the way your heart skipped a beat at those words, irritation taking over when you felt your cheeks heat up.

Nevertheless, you leaned towards him, holding your breath once again. He slowly raised an arm, frowning in pain for just a split second. You didn’t expect the back of his hand to stroke one of your cheeks so suddenly, so gently. You pulled back once more, surprised.

“What are you doing?”, you asked, making him roll his eyes at your alarmed tone.

“Jeez, when did you become so fucking dramatic? Stop crying”.

“I’m not crying”, you scoffed. When you touched your own cheek, however, you froze in shock. 

He let out a sarcastic laugh and you had to resist the urge to throw something right at his stupid, bruised face. Did the stain on his head bandage grow larger? You should’ve called Shinobu instead of sitting there, bickering like a teenager.

“Why are you wet?”

You focused on his face again, blinking in confusion.

“What?”

“Why-is-your-hair-wet?”, he articulated the words slowly, irritating you beyond measure.

“It’s raining ”, you replied in the same way, making him scoff.

“No shit. Did you run all the way here through the rain or what?”

You stayed silent long enough for him to grasp what you weren’t saying but you couldn’t see his eyes ever so slightly soften in realization, cause you had turned your head to look at the wall on your right. 

Well, he wasn’t saying it either. How reassuring it had been to hear your voice so suddenly, so close to him, when the last thing he remembered was the feeling of being sliced in half. The warmth he felt at you calling him by his name after what felt like an eternity. He never knew what exactly it was that you did but you had such a way of articulating it, he would’ve done unthinkable things if it meant having you say his name over and over again.

You never asked him for anything but for as long as he could remember he wished that you had. It would’ve been easier, less complicated. He ached to give you something. Anything.

“Yes, I ran all the way here through the rain. Because I had to make sure I knew what to tell to the people who actually give a shit and were worried about you”, your voice was bitter, he could almost taste it. 

“How heroic of you”, now it was his turn to get bitter, almost resentful. You snorted, patience growing thin by the minute.

“Guess this is what I’m gonna tell Genya and Iguro-san, that you can’t stop being an asshole even after you almost got your ass killed”.

“Can you also tell them that we hooked up what, two times, and now you think you’re my mother?”

Your breath hitched in your throat and you looked at him with wide eyes, surprised at the sudden pain you felt in your chest. Wow. Just wow.

He closed his eyes for a second and exhaled slowly.

“I didn’t mean it”.

Of course he didn’t fucking mean it. But you knew better that bringing Genya up.

He wasn’t good at communication, he couldn’t move and you increasingly irritated him, you were just so good at irritating him. And he was just so good at snapping, at saying the wrong thing, the worst thing.

Your anger disappeared, leaving place for… what was it? Pain? Humiliation? It almost felt like you were about to have an anxiety attack. Again.

“I’ll go”, you said slowly, trying to hide how accelerated your breath was getting. You knew it was useless, his hearing was perfect. 

“I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t”, he sounded harsh and you mistook his fear of seeing you leave for aggressiveness.

“I never know what you mean, Sanemi. Or think, or want”, your voice was suddenly low, almost a whisper.

He stayed silent for a few seconds, pale eyes glued to yours. 

“I’m sorry”, once again, he articulated the words as slowly as he could. 

You shook your head.

“What happened?”

Sanemi resisted the urge to sigh. You were so good at deflecting, always had been.

“Upper moon”.

The horrified expression that took over your features would’ve been funny on a different occasion.

“What? How are you alive?”

Of course he called a goddamn upper moon a sorry ass demon. Jesus. 

“He was summoned, or whatever the fuck it was. He disappeared”.

“Did Oyakata-sama know? Did he send you against an upper moon, alone?”

“Don’t use that tone. It’s a stupid ass question, of course he didn’t”.

“Can you fucking stop ordering me around?”

He cracked another smile.

“Relax, then. I’m fine”.

“You’re fine”, you repeated mockingly, “I wish you could see yourself right now”.

“I’ve been injured before, you have too. It’s part of the job, you’re overreacting”.

Never have I wanted to punch you in the face so bad.

“I got scared, okay? When your fucking crow came and said you were in critical condition, I got scared shitless. Not because you’ve never been injured before but because I know how you get injured. You’re reckless and stubborn and impulsive and you never once stop to think about the fact that you have friends, allies, a master and a brother worrying and caring and waiting for you to come back alive. So yes, I’m overreacting, you fucking idiot!”

He didn’t reply immediately, too busy taking in the sight of your heated cheeks, the determination glimmering in your eyes.

Sanemi liked how easy it was, getting you riled up, but he also liked how genuine it was, the worry you felt for others. He was almost always there to hear you tell Shinobu she needed to get more sleep, offering Gyomei to walk him to the shrine, asking Obanai if he wanted some time alone so that he could remove his bandages and be comfortable.

You worried about Giyu the most, something Sanemi hated, because Tomioka just didn’t seem appreciative enough whenever you approached to sit in silence with him or ask for some help in your training. You were so good at finding excuses not to make anyone feel left out, ever. You were the complete opposite of him.

“Stop staring at me like that”, you snapped again.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m being histerical”.

“You are being histerical. But”, he was quick to add, amused by the daggers you were glaring, “you may have a point”.

You exhaled, emotional fatigue suddenly weighing on you like one of those giant rocks you knew Himejima-san used to train his possible Tsugukos.

Holding his stare was always difficult, mostly because it was impossible to decipher his thoughts. You, however, felt overwhelmed by yours.

The relief finally came and a little voice inside your brain reminded you how badly you wanted to touch him, lightly squeeze one of his hands, graze his bruised cheek. You could tell by the way he was breathing that he was focused on stopping any bleeding he had enough strength to stop, maybe even heal an injury or two. 

“Come closer”, he demanded again, voice dangerously soft.

He ever so rarely spoke like that and you weren’t sure about how many people could say to have experienced him whispering sweet nothings to their ear, hands lightly stroking their hair, cheeks flushed, eyes giving them no place to escape. You hated how vividly you remembered all of that, especially when sitting closer to his futon, especially when you gave in to the urge of delicately moving a strand of his messy silver locks out of his forehead.

“I remember there’s people waiting for me”, he said, eyes closing the second your hand brushed against his hair. 

You hummed so skeptically he wasn’t able to hold back a snort.

“I remember. That’s why I’ll always come back in one piece”.

His eyes opened again and were now staring at you with such an intensity you felt your face heat up again. 

“I can’t promise I won’t overreact again”, you muttered, “or beat your ass myself, the next time you do something reckless and stupid”.

He finally smiled, a genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

“That’s my girl”.

You didn’t realize how close you were leaning until he said that and you felt your body suddenly burning so much that you had to istinctively pull back. The smile only grew larger: oh how he wished he had enough strength left just to pull you close once again.

“I think that’s enough chatting”, a sudden, melodic voice made you both flinch. How did you manage not to hear her come in?

“I have to take a look at those injuries and you have to rest, Shinazugawa-san. The faster you recover, the more you can help me heal you with your breathing”, Shinobu spoke softly. It was so comforting, seeing her smile again.

He groaned and you got up, dusting off the uniform she was kind enough to lend you.

“How long will this take?”, he grumbled, any softness long gone from his sharp-edged features.

“A few weeks. Less, if you decide to actually listen to what I tell you, for a change”.

You let out a small laugh that was soon interrupted by a loud sneeze. Shinobu turned to face you, her entire aura screaming exasperation.

“You’ll stay here tonight. I already told Aoi to prepare a bath, go take it before you catch a cold”.

“There’s no need, I actually wanted to…”

Her smile grew wider and you knew better than to test her patience so you stopped talking, embarrassed.  

“Fine. Thank you”, you muttered.

You glanced at Sanemi, who was already staring with tired eyes.

“Do what she says”, you warned him.

He yawned.

“You can come check on him after dinner. If he’s awake”, Shinobu looked at you with a complicity that made you clear your throat with a condesceding nod.

“I will be”, was the last thing he said before a soft snore escaped his mouth, making the both of you chuckle.

“You know, the first thing he said after waking up, was your name. He thought I was you”, the insect hashira whispered.

You felt a familiar heat rise from your neck.

“He was already awake when I entered the room?”, you hissed in disbelief.

Shinobu tilted her head, not really getting why you seemed so flustered again.

[heliads]

bae, I am BEGGING you to do a maze runner AU with the gang at hogwarts!!!! a newt x reader where they're both in hufflepuff but friends with the rest (who can be in different houses) and then in potions they have to make amortentia and they smell each other and then flufffffffff

bae, i would love to!! a good au is wonderful and when combined with a classic amortentia scene >>

masterlist

You don’t know that you have ever felt stillness so poignantly as this before. You can practically feel it hanging in the air, suspended along with motes of dust in the thick beams of light coming in from the windows, eddying around pairs and trios of students in your golden common room. No one is lonely, no one is abandoned, but they are quiet in the way that makes everyone feel all the more close to each other. It is marvelous.

It’s not that you’re usually desperate for peace of mind in your house, far from it. Hufflepuff is the rare gathering of people in which you can have both serenity and connections, close friends and alone time when you need it. It does well for you, and you for it. 

Your contemplation does not go unnoticed, and by your side, a blond boy most agreeable by your standards looks up from his book to glance at you quizzically. “Everything alright, love?”

You nod, still keeping your gaze fixed somewhere in the vague middle of the room. “Everything is perfectly alright. That’s the best part of this.”

Newt hums in agreement, pressing a bookmark in between the pages of a Herbology textbook and shutting the covers with a distinct thunk. “It’s a very peaceful day, isn’t it?”

“Very peaceful,” you repeat, “that’s been rare recently.”

Newt chuckles. “If you’re referring to our friends, I’m going to have to agree. I don’t think they’ve been able to go a full day without getting into trouble in months. Perhaps even years.”

Your laugh is interrupted by the sound of a voice coming from behind you. “I do hope you say that in genuine admiration, Newt, or we’re going to be hurt. We didn’t go to all the trouble of showing up here just to have you insult us.”

You and Newt turn around in unison to see a pair of boys grinning at you, having just emerged from the shadows of the common room. Normally, you’d be delighted to see your friends, but the fact remains that this is the Hufflepuff common room, and neither Minho nor Thomas are in your house.

Minho, a proud Slytherin, is the one who just chastised Newt. Thomas, by contrast, tends to be a little quieter, although he’s still grinning at Minho’s comment. You’re not entirely surprised to see him here, either; Thomas is a Gryffindor in every sense of the word, and he’s constantly prone to scouting out restricted areas in the hopes of figuring out some new addendum to the castle that nobody else has even heard about, let alone discovered before him.

You arch a brow at the sight of them. “And how’d you get in now? No one would ever let you in our common room after you set that fire a few days ago.”

Minho waves a hand dismissively at your reproach. “Tell your fellow Hufflepuffs not to worry, the flames were barely a foot high. I think everyone would do well with a good bonfire, they’re very fun. Anyway, we didn’t need one of your friends to let us in, Thomas here found us a secret passage.”

Newt groans. “Isn’t that the third one this month? You’ve got to stop stumbling upon these things, it’s very tiresome for those of us who like our privacy.”

“Maybe you should stop living in a castle with this many secret passages,” Thomas counters, “it’s not my fault they’re so easy to find.”

Minho claps his friend on the shoulder. “Ah, Thomas is just being modest. The guy’s got an uncanny sense of direction, I tell you. You could Obliviate him and stick him in the middle of a labyrinth, and he could still find his way out without a care in the world.”

You frown. “That’s a very specific scenario, Minho. Are you planning on doing that any time soon?”

Minho shrugs liberally. “You never know. Things come up.”

Thomas mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like “if you’re sticking me in a maze, I’m taking you with me,” and the rest of you break into laughter.

After a while of such talk, Newt glances around at the direction from whence Minho and Thomas had come. “You’re the only ones here? I would have thought you’d at least take Alby or Teresa on your latest expedition.”

Thomas shakes his head. “Teresa was busy helping out in the hospital wing again, and Alby claims that, as Head Boy, he would actually ask someone to let him inside instead of just breaking in again.”

You snort. “Alby can talk all he likes about the righteousness of being Head Boy, doesn’t mean that it erases the fact that he’s committed the worst offense of all by being friends with us.”

“Also the amount of detentions he’s gotten all by himself,” Newt notes.

“Also the detentions,” you confirm.

Minho laughs. “Yeah, so he’s not here. Thomas is horribly upset that Teresa is missing as well, by the way. He’s done a stunningly good job of hiding his desperation to be with her, but–”

He’s cut off by Thomas swatting him on the shoulder. “Minho doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Thomas interjects vigorously, “Don’t pay him any attention.”

You and Newt exchange knowing glances. “Oh, we never would,” you say.

“Definitely not,” Newt answers, and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing.

Thomas looks as if he’s about to hit you and Newt as well, so you hurriedly inquire as to the whereabouts of Chuck, Thomas’ little protege. The kid is a first year Gryffindor, and has recently taken to following Thomas about at all hours of the day. You think any other student would grow sick of the younger boy’s obsession, but Thomas seems to view him as a little brother, and so Chuck is tolerated for a while longer.

Thomas confesses to have left Chuck behind due to the secrecy of their mission (sneaking into the Hufflepuff common room), an explanation which is accepted by all. You end up talking with your friends for a while longer until Newt glances at a clock on the wall and announces that it’s time for you all to get to class, an announcement which is greeted with a chorus of groans.

The next class, of course, is Potions, something not even the academically strong Teresa can claim to enjoy. The problem lies with the instructor, Professor Janson, who’s had it out for you and your friends since the day you showed up at Hogwarts as not-so-timid first years.

Still, you’ll do your best to survive the class, just as you always do. Luckily for you, he’s been out sick for the past week, and his substitute will continue to be present for the time being. You have a sneaking suspicion that Thomas and Minho may be behind that odd absence, but then again, if there’s anyone who’d be capable at avoiding the occasional poisoning, it would probably be your vengeful potions teacher.

His replacement, Professor Randall Spilker, is somewhat average, even if he tries to match Janson’s evil nature measure for measure. He was handpicked by Headmaster Paige, though, so he must have at least some iota of knowledge lurking behind those stultifying eyes.

Today should be interesting, at least; you and the other students will be tackling one of the most sought after potions of the last several years. This would be amortentia, the notorious love potion. Every year, Hogwarts students have to produce amortentia in class, and every year, fights and confessions break out as to the contents of your recently brewed potions.

The fascinating thing about amortentia, other than the fact that it can cause an instant infatuation in the drinker, is what happens when you’re brewing it. Supposedly, if you smell the steam emanating from a correctly made cauldron of amortentia, you’ll pick up the scents of the person you love the most.

This sounds like a ridiculous story, but supposedly it reveals the true natures of the students who brew it, year after year. There’s nothing to say that it wouldn’t work. Perhaps what you hold against this rumor is that you would prefer it to stay just such. You don’t entirely want to voice the truth of your heart, because you’ve been keeping that secret hidden even from yourself for quite some time. 

Now, however, it appears that you won’t be able to avoid the truth of who you love for much longer. You start to brew the potion with the rest of your friends, and before long, students are starting to have their own revelations as they finish.

Minho finishes first, and he takes great pride in not saying a word of who he smells to anyone, despite pleading from all of you. He chuckles at Thomas’ desperation, merely mentioning that he’d never give any of you such useful blackmail.

The rest of you have no such qualms, and Thomas, who produces his cauldron full of amortentia next, spends several minutes trying to figure out just who he smells. In the end, he claims that he’s caught between two clearly distinct people, and seems bewildered by it.

You and Newt lock eyes from where you stand next to each other. Neither of you have to say a word, already knowing what’s on the other’s mind:  Thomas is stuck deciding between Teresa and Brenda, just as he’s been for the past few months. You don’t know if Thomas would ever be truly capable of making a choice unless something happened to take it out of his hands.

Until then, he’ll be stuck in the center of such a decision forever. You push him from your thoughts soon enough; your own batch of amortentia is complete, and you stare into the pearly sheen of the surface, wondering just what you’ll learn.

In truth, not even you know who you truly love. You take a deep breath, and try to focus. After a moment, it comes easily to you, such a familiar scent that you sigh in exasperation. You turn to Newt, the question already rising to your lips to ask him to step a little further away as you can’t smell a thing except him.

When you look up, though, you realize that Newt has gone to help somebody across the room, and he’s nowhere in sight. If he’s not here, and you’re still smelling him, then that means–

No. No, it can’t be. It can’t possibly be that the one person you love more than anyone else is Newt. Newt, your best friend, your oldest friend, the only boy who couldn’t be farther from your reach right now. Newt would never love you, not like you love him, because you’re so deep into the friendzone that not even the force of amortentia could save you.

It hurts, this revelation. You wish that you could have gone on existing in your blissful state of oblivion, not aware of the fact that you love Newt more than anything. Now that you’re conscious of it, though, it’s impossible to ignore.

Of course you love Newt. How could you ever love anyone else? Newt, who’s memorized your favorite drinks and foods and colors a thousand times over, who’s sworn to the sky and stars that you’re the only person he’s ever needed. Newt, who has made you feel more complete than a single other friend. Newt, who stands now on the other side of an impassable gulf, impossible to reach except in memory.

After all, how could you possibly go back to being friends when you now wish more than anything that he would love you too? You could never fake smiles and have them turn out half as real as they were before. What’s more, Newt would know the difference. He always does.

A sound in front of you makes you startle, and you realize that Newt has returned to your side. He’s teasingly asking you what you smell in your amortentia, but when he realizes that you look shell shocked, his impish grin drops in a second.

“Y/N?” He asks tentatively, “Y/N, everything alright?”

You nod hurriedly, convincing neither you nor him. His concerned expression, that adorable furrow in his brow, it’s all too much to take, so you murmur a few excuses and rush out of the room. You want nothing more than to be alone, but it appears you’ll be unlucky again. You’ve barely turned the corner to get out of the door before Newt is following you out.

You try to pick up the pace and lose him, but Newt is by your side in an instant. He grabs your arm, tugging you into an empty alcove of the hall.

“What happened?” He asks again.

You shake your head, unable for a moment to conjure up any words at all. After a few breaths, you’re able to control yourself long enough to gasp out a few words. “Nothing. I’m fine, I swear.”

Newt raises an eyebrow. “You have to be kidding yourself if you think I’m going to believe that. What happened, Y/N? Really.”

You laugh bitterly. “It sounds silly. I learned thanks to the amortentia that the one person I love the most would never love me back.”

Newt frowns. “How do you know that?”

You should stay silent now. You really should, but he’s looking at you pleadingly, and you have never been able to do anything but tell him the truth in all these years.

So, you tilt your eyes up as if in the search of something to save you from this, and whisper:  

“You.”

Newt lets out a sharp breath, and just as you’re certain that this is the singular biggest regret you will ever have, he starts to laugh.

You look at him angrily, which only makes him laugh harder. He holds up a hand to stave off your irritated comment, and explains himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just, well, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“About what?” You ask hesitantly.

Newt gestures between the two of you with a free hand. “About the person you love never loving you back. You know who I smelled in that potion, Y/N? It was you, so overpowering that I could barely think about anything else. There’s no reason to be upset, you know. I love you too.”

It is only upon hearing this final confirmation, the final ‘I love you,’ that you finally start to breathe again.

“You love me?” You whisper.

He nods. “I love you.”

It is a good thing that all students are in their classes or otherwise skipping school in a different part of the castle. It is a good thing, because it allows Newt to kiss you in utter solitude, a sort of peace you have never known except with him, and it is perfect.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria