#not mentioned here but hurt no comfort is my least favorite trope

[fangirlmedstudentblog]

Today was a bit of a mixed bag of a day, but now i feel much better, turns out going out and touching grass actually improves your mood!

/sarcastic

(Even if it's like a trip to the grocery store)

Anyways, thanks to @solana-ceae for tagging! And as usual anyone who wants to do this is welcome to try, here's the link!

[doitforbangchan]

It’s not fair - S.C

Masterlist

Changbin x reader (afab)

Summary: As your best friend, he can't just let you rot away... especially since he's in love with you.

This was an emergency request from my lovey Bumble Bee @ayejaii who I just adore. I hope you enjoy, my dear friend :)

Warnings: Angst, crying, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, suggestive, cursing, Bestfriends to lovers trope, Binnie being perfect. Not proofread

WC: 1.6k

There was a distinct melancholy in the air surrounding your apartment.  The curtains have not been drawn in days, making it seem mustier than Changbin had ever seen it. He had been calling you and texting you for days but you hadn’t answered once. Even though he had been your best friend for a few years, never once had you ignored him. He knew something must have happened and in his state of intense worry he sped to your home the second his recording session was over. Good thing he had the spare key you had given him in case of emergencies.

The first thing he did when he entered was scouring the room for you. The living room looked untouched from the last time he was here a few days ago. Right before your latest date with your dickhead fling. When he didn’t find you in the living room or kitchen he shuffled to your bedroom. 

The door was cracked open, a gap big enough for your cat to fit through. Changbin peered inside the dark room, finding a cocooned lump in the middle of your bed. Your fluffy cat was curled next to you but upon his entry into your space got up from her lying position, letting out a little ‘mew’ in greeting to her second favorite human. 

Changbin gave the cat a little scritch on the chin, before he sat on the edge of your bed. “Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You didn’t answer, he only heard a quiet sniffle come from the mass of blankets. “I’ve been worried about you, ya know. You haven’t been answering your phone. Not since you went out with Mike.” He said the man's name with a tone of disgust. Changbin had been in love with you since you first became friends all those years ago, and knew your fling didn’t deserve you. “Have you been laying here since then? It’s been 3 days.”

 At the mention of the name, you let out a sob, your body shaking as you did. “Stop, Bin.” You croaked out, voice sounding like you hadn’t spoken words in days. 

His mind immediately went to the worst, panic striking his body, ”Did.. Did he do something to  you, Y/n? Did he hurt you?” 

You peeked your face out of your cocoon just enough to meet his eyes. Your own eyes were puffy and red, as if you had been crying for hours on end. “No Changbin. He didn’t hurt me. Not physically at least.” 

“What do ya mean, sweetheart?” He was confused, he thought things were going well with the dickhead. 

“He..he broke up with me.” You sobbed, reburying your face in your covers. 

“Oh honey, come er’,” he laid on your bed with you and cradled you into him. “He was a fucking dipshit who didn’t deserve you anyway.” 

“I am so tired, Bin.” 

“What are you tired of, y/n?” He tried to keep his voice even and soothing.

“I am so tired of men treating me like trash. Like I’m some toy they can throw away when they’re done playing with me.” Your shaking got worse, hiccuping between words. “ I try so hard to be good for them, be who they want me to be, but it doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.”

“Don’t say that. None of it is your fault. You don’t have to change yourself for anyone, let alone some low life.” He had fury in his tone, though he was doing his best not to let it show. 

“But it is my fault!” you flung the blankets off you as you sat up. Your voice was hysterical. “He told me it was! That I- I wasn’t enough for him. That I wasn’t the kind of girl he could see himself with in the long run. Why am I so unlovable?” 

“That’s not true!” Changbin exploded. You were shocked at his outburst. “You are loveable! In fact I know someone who would kill to be with you, and treat you like you deserve!” 

“Who, Binnie? What kind of man would want to be with a mess like me?!” you cried. 

“Me, goddamnit!” Fuck, this is not how he imagined he would confess to you. It's too late now. “I am in love with you!” 

Your tears came harder, “ Don’t say things you don’t mean, Changbin. It’s not fair.” 

He cupped your cheeks, “What’s not fair, is how long I’ve spent pining after you. How long I’ve spent trying to show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman.” He was staring right into your eyes, being the most serious you had ever seen him. “It’s not fair that I have had to watch you go out with dirtbag after dirtbag, while I waited and hoped and prayed that you would finally see who was right here…me.” 

You paused, glassy eyes wide. “Why did you never say anything?” 

“What was I supposed to say? That I was in love with you while you were dating someone else? That I didn’t want you to be with anyone else? I couldn’t be selfish, not with you.” 

“Oh Binnie” You flew at him, burying your face in his muscular chest. Your fingers grasped onto his shirt, trying to bring him as close as possible. “I have seen you there. I’ve always known your worth.” 

“Don’t lie to make me feel better.” He whispered, his anguish showing in his voice. 

“I’m not lying!” you wailed, “I have been in love with you for years, since we first met at Hyunjins birthday party!” 

He remembers it so clearly, he often replays it in his mind. Being enamored with your soft smile and bright personality when Hyunjin introduced you a few years back. The pink dress you wore had hugged your figure just right, and your fluttering lashes had him in a trance. At the time, he was too chicken shit to ask you out for a real date, so instead he settled on being your friend. 

“You were always so good to me, Bin. It’s impossible not to fall for you.” You sniffled, trying to make him see. “You always treat everybody so well, I didn’t think you felt the same way about me. I didn’t want to confess and be turned down by you. I couldn’t bear to be on the receiving end of your polite grimace you always have when rejecting a girl. Or even worse, have you feel bad for me and agree to date me in some self sacrificing way, making yourself miserable.I guess that's me, unable to be selfish with you.” 

You waited with baited breath for his response. What you got instead was him wrapping his thick arms around you, and his face in your hair as he…laughed? 

“You’re telling me, I waited so long for you to see me there. For you to love me like I do you. And you’ve been over here, feeling the exact same way? For years?” His laughing mingled with his now teary cries as he took in the situation. “Maybe it’s us who’s the actual dipshits.” 

You couldn't help the watery giggles that escaped you. “ I think you’re right, Bin. We’re possibly the biggest idiots on earth.” 

You both just held each other for a while, cry-laughing together on your bed. Eventually he was the first to pull away. Changbin wiped his watery eyes as he gazed down at you. Even with a puffy tear stained face you were still the most beautiful woman in the world. 

His rough hands cupped your cheeks again, and he held your eye contact as he slowly leaned in closer. “If this isn’t what you want, I need you to stop me now,” he whispered. 

“It’s all I want, Bin. You’re all I want.”  You were the one to close the gap, your lips smashing into his with a delicate intensity. He reciprocated just as fiercely, almost as if this was a dream he would soon wake from. 

Changbin knew if you’d let him, he could swallow you whole. Make you his in every way possible. Your little whimpers that escaped you when you bit on his lip didn’t go unnoticed. But, as much as he would love to take it further, he understood it wasn’t the right time. Sex wasn’t what you needed right now. 

“Sweetheart,” he started, his words muffled when you wouldn’t let him pull away completely. you hummed, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Baby, we can’t right now. As much as I’m dying to finally get you naked, there are more pressing matters.” he managed to gently push you off. 

“But Binniiiieeeee.” you whined with a pout. 

“I know, my love, I know” he cooed, patting your hair, before standing from your bed. “ first things first, you gotta eat something and shower.” He scooped you into his arms as you squealed a laugh. “And let’s get this place aired out, huh? It reeks of despair in here.” 

“Ugh fine” you relented, stomach growling at the promise of food. Plus if it meant you could stay in his arms longer, you would do anything he asked. “on one condition.” 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he asked amused when you plopped you on your bathroom counter. He then turned on the bathtub tap letting it fill up for you. 

“You have to take a bath with me.” There was a twinkling in your eye as you purred it. 

“Fuck, you can’t say things like that. It’s not fair.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered. 

You pulled your shirt off, flinging it at him.

“Who ever said I was fair?” 

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

[thisismeracing]

hiii, would you mind doing prompt 8 with lewis hamilton please ? i love your writing 🥹

Heyyy 🥹💓 thanks, I'm really glad to hear that, nonny!!! here you go, hope you like it!

From the Quick Prompt List: 8. “You said you wanted to be my friend”

word count: 1.4k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY AGAIN AAAAAA)

pairing: reader (she/her pronouns) x lewis hamilton

warnings: angst (w happy ending), not proofread, mentions of a breakup, pinning - friends to lovers trope.

When Yn called crying he didn't waste any time to show up at her door. Lewis knew he was the first person she called because that was just how they worked, they prioritized the other above all things. That was one of the reasons Jackson, Yn's ex, gave for the sudden breakup, he thought they were in love, he thought that Lewis was a looming figure, he felt like a third party in his own relationship, and it didn't matter how many times Yn repeated they were just friends Jackson was convinced either Lewis and Yn were too blind to see or he was being lied to.

When the pilot got there he used the spare key he had to get inside, he took some seconds to look around the living room, some tissues on top of the coffee table, along with an open pint of ice cream and one of her favorite books.

"Hey," he whispered when Yn showed up at the door separating the kitchen from the living room. She gave him a weak smile before running into his open arms and letting the storm take its place.

"He didn't even have a good reason, Lew," she sobbed burying her head in the crook of his neck.

Lewis brought her body close and gave a light tap on her back, a sign for her to lace her legs around him so that he could carry her. He walked with Yn, now tangled in his body, to the couch where they sat together, and he heard the way she complained about the breakup. She wasn't telling him everything, though, and he knew well enough because after all, he was her best friend, yet he chose to just listen and comfort her.

The British watched as his own heart broke at the sight of the woman he loved crying over someone else. ]

"Am I unlovable? Am I a bad lover?" Yn asked after her cries subsided, Lewis's hands going up and down her back in a soothing caress. Her question was more of a conversation with herself because her first two exes complained about her best friend too, which at the time she thought was just jealousy, now, the third time sends her a message, right? No way three of her last partners didn't like Lewis without a reason. What's there not to like about him? she thought. "I must be horrible to be around," she muttered in a huff and Lewis took a deep breath deciding he had enough.

He didn't want to confess his feelings like this, but he also couldn't watch as Yn searched for a problem inside her when it wasn't about her, but about those idiots who let her go. Who could have her a let her go? And Lewis knew her enough to know that he would try to explain for hours and she would still say the problem was her, so he decided it was time to come clean.

"The problem is not you, Yn, it was never you. It can't be you because it pains me to not be around you, it physically hurts me not being able to hug you all the time. I wish I could carry you around everywhere, I wish you could be my forever. You could never be the problem, because you're the solution, at least to me. I love you so much and it fucking kills me to watch you cry for yet another guy all the while trying to search problems on yourself when you're just...perfect."

Yn was silent for a minute. Her eyes were wide open staring ahead of Leiws at her white walls, lips slightly parted. For a second he thought that maybe he was good at hiding his feelings. It's a beat before she's scrambling off his lap, leaving the couch and standing in the middle of her living room with an accusatory look towards him.

"You said you wanted to be my friend!" Yn sticks her point finger at him, her other hand holding at her chest like it would prevent her heart from beating any faster.

Lewis keeps his sitting position on the couch, head hanging down before mustering the courage to look her in the eyes again, "I didn't lie," he states.

"Then you care to explain to me how all of a sudden you're in love with me?"

"It's not sudden, I've been in love with you for years now, Yn. You just didn't see it," his tone is not harsh but his words made her take a step back. "When we met and I said I wanted to be your friend I wasn't lying, I still wanna be your best friend, but I want to be your lover as well, I want you to have a friend in your partner because I know you never did with the other guys. I want everything with you," Lewis confessed.

Yn shakes her head, tears spilling from her eyes like a waterfall. The realization that maybe all her past boyfriends were right: she was oblivion to the fact that there was something between her and her best friend. He loved her and Yn felt guilty for a second because she couldn't find it in her to deny that maybe it was mutual. Maybe she went through three breakups in the past few years because she was afraid of being alone and having to face her own feelings for Lewis.

Still, she shook her head looking away.

She watched from her peripheral vision as Lewis got up from her couch, one hand inside the pockets of his pants, the other sticking in her direction, instinctively she took a step back.

He winced.

It physically hurt her too, but she couldn't stop the tears nor the tsunami of thoughts about all their interactions and all her feelings and how she was blind to the truth all this time.

"Call me if you need me," the Brit whispered before heading to the door and leaving Yn to the sound of her own breath and then the sound of her own sobs because now she was crying harder than when Jackson broke up with her. The truth was, she did not really care about Jackson, she liked him just fine, his breaking up with her hurt her ego and put her on the spot of looking inside herself again, which was not good, or so she thought.

But Lewis leaving?

Lewis leaving felt like part of her went too. Like someone broke her in half and threw the other piece somewhere no one could find.

How would life be without Lewis?

She took some time to think, took hours watching the city go by from her window, all while mentally cursing herself. She could have faced it before. They could have been together for years. Yn was so tired of letting her fears speak louder than her desires. Lewis was so much braver and bolder than her, she took a deep breath and prayed for it to rub a bit in her, his boldness, his courage because it was too late to back away when the Uber accepted her ride to his address.

It was the middle of the night, almost two thirty in the morning the last time she checked her phone, but still, she wanted to be bold, to have courage, she didn't want to waste any more time.

Yn buzzed his doorbell nonstop until a pajama-clad Lewis Hamilton opened the door with a confused frown on his face. She didn't give him much time to question before starting.

"I am so sorry, I feel so dumb, I should have been more honest with myself and with you, Lewis."

"I-" he started, but she cut him off.

"I love you," she confessed. "I love you too and I was just too afraid to lose our friendship to confess it, I didn't want to see my feelings for what it was, and I made you suffer in the process. I am truly sorry for that."

It was like a height left her shoulders.

"Am I still in time to be your best friend but also your lover and biggest admirer and whatever more there is to be?"

Lewis chuckled rolling his eyes at her cute antics before sweeping her off of her feet into a tight hug that gave them just enough space to stare at each other's faces and finally kiss.

Wrote this while listening to "Nobody gets me" by queen SZA. Hope yall like this, I am way too sleepy to try and proofread or look for basic mistakes, so I'm really sorry if you see those. Don't forget to like, reblog, yada yada yada it makes me happy and inspires me to write more, do it without thinking twice <3 *mwah*

[yuurivoice]

I've always felt like a spanking centered audio could be good for Alphonse, with listener either giving or receiving said spankings. Since you mentioned a Bully Alphonse though...

Depending on how much/what type of a bully you're thinking of, him bullying listener for getting off on getting spanked could fit nicely.

You're cooking here Anon......

Unrelated but also, super related, I'm looking into licensing a pretty comprehensive collection of NSFW SFX, which actually includes a whole folder for spanks.

The sad truth is, the reason there has been minimal SFX in the spicy stuff is because it's such a hassle to get to sound good if you're recording fresh stuff every time around. It recently occurred to me that I could simply.........stop struggling.

Spanking would probably be a top 3 occurrence in my content if I didn't have to worry about the sounds. So, needless to say, that might be a thing!

As for what kind of bully Alphonse might be, I think the best way for me to wrap my head around it is perhaps using one of my least favorite tropes ever......miscommunication! I like the idea that Alphonse is a real prick because of something the listener did, but they don't know wtf he's talking about and assume he's just an asshole. So it never comes up. Turns out, some OTHER kind of asshole bully is responsible for making it seem like listener did whatever they supposedly did to Alphonse. We resolve the arc with Alphonse being protective and friendly...but along the way he discovers that the listener has a crush, and lowkey......likes the bullying.

Voila. Simple. Clean. Doesn't involve actually abusing anyone in the most toxic ways imaginable and has a resolution that makes me not feel gross!

In the same way I work with Yandere stuff, I don't ever feel quite right just leaving it at "they're really fucked up and it's fucked up and that's all folks!" even though I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It's a comfort thing for me, and also just understanding how people conflate oneshots/au stuff with canon, it doesn't hurt to use some additional restraint in case someone gets emotional whiplash.

We didn't get a lot of time with Alphonse in his abrasive prick era, so writing him in that way would be a lot of fun for me.

[whatisthatmae]

Talking his ear off

Talking his ear off || Avatar: TWOW

↬ Contents..drabble,fem! Omatikaya Reader,fluffy like a pillow,forehead kisses

↬ a/n..I love this trope! Enjoy 💛

Neteyam just had gotten back from his hunting party today. His father let him lead this one for more training to take his place, and to say the least he was exhausted.

All he wanted to do is come home to you and talk about your day, which is always much better than his. In time he grew to love hearing you ramble.

Talking about one thing and then something else happened and that topic excites you even more, so you randomly switched topics without knowing. It was his favorite part of his wholee day. Just sitting in your tent listening to you talk.

It was relaxing for him really and after what had happened today?

He needed to be relaxed so badly.

He walked to your tent in a hurry, not even thanking for taking note to his people congratulating him. Your tent was not far away but it was farther than his family’s tent, so it was a bit of a walk but he finally got there.

You were humming to yourself when you heard your tent flap open. When you turned around you saw your mighty boyfriend Neteyam standing there with an exhausted look on his face.

You gasped while looking at him standing on your feet “What happened Ma Neteyam? Are you alright?” You look over his body checking to see if he was hurt, but turns out he just had a few scratches here and there which is expected.

You quickly sat him down on the floor, you also following suit cuddling up against him trying to get comfortable. Then your breathe in his scent. He always smelled like fresh pine and rain. It calmed your nerves deeply.

“I am fine my love..please,tell me how was your day?” He has a genuine smile on his face when he says it too. He loves hearing about the adventures you’ve had while he was away. It makes him relieved that you were safe and enjoying yourself.

“Ah, well Me and Kiri…” you told him about your whole day, about how you helped Mo’at & Kiri doing Tsahik work and healing others, how you took Tuk exploring in the forest(safely), and how you yourself caught something today. Trying to provide for your people too.

You got so caught up in talking you noticed how you didn’t even let Neteyam talk about his day. You gasped “I’m sorry Ma Neteyam! I got so caught up in my day I didn’t even ask about yours! Please for give me.” You felt bad that you were talking so much.

Sometimes people get annoyed with you for talking so much about yourself, you don’t mean any harm. You just get so caught up in what you were saying. Sometimes you feared Neteyam would do the same but surprisingly,he has not.

“It is alright love, I promise.” He chuckled at you, he thought that he had been obvious that he liked hearing you talk. You have an eyebrow raised at him in confusion.

His laughter died down soon though once he noticed it.

“I love hearing you talking about your adventures love. It warms my heart just thinking about it.” You smiled brightly at him after he said that. He wasn’t bothered by you talking so much at all. It makes you fall in love with him even more than you already have.

“But please Neteyam,” you giggled at him in joy “please tell me about your hunt. Was it a big animal you caught?” “Hmm, you know how Lo’ak is.. always getting into trouble, somehow.” He told you all about his hunt, to but he kept it short to hear more about you since you cut yourself off.

You giggled when he mentions Lo’ak or one of the soldiers missing an arrow. It was also fun for you hearing about his day since you spend so much of it away from each other.

“Enough about me love. Please, tell me more about your day? It seems much more interesting.” You hum in content and continuing on, enjoying your time together.

© 2023 whatisthatmae - please do not steal my work,upload, nor copy any of it on any other websites. All of the rights of my work goes to me. If you have any inspiration please tag me as well!

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: After a long day at the hospital, all Jaemin needs is cuddles from his babies. Pairing: cashmere lop!Jaemin x fem human!reader Tropes: hybrid au Genre: fluff, slice of life Rating: PG Warnings: storms, pregnancy, mentions of hospitals/surgeries Word Count: 822

Neo Hybridverse Masterlist || Cashmere Lop!Jaemin Masterlist

It’s late. It’s really late at night. You’re doing your best to soothe all three of your children back to sleep. A typical summer storm is rolling through your part of the city, and none of them are quite keen on the idea of sleeping right now. You’re beyond exhausted, though. Being eight months pregnant while wrangling a seven-year-old and two five-year-olds is not how you wish to be spending your night.

“Momma, I don’t like the storm. It’s hurting my ears.” Miyoung comments, pressing her hands over her fluffy ears.

“I know, love.” you try to soothe, “Hopefully, Daddy’ll be home soon, and he can help scare the storm away.”

Seojun is the least bothered by the weather. If anything, he’s doing his best to help you. He brought Chaewon her favorite stuffed animal (which he had hidden from her) in hopes that it would help calm his twin down. He bounced around the bedroom, trying to distract his sisters from the storm. All of his attempts to help failed, of course, and he ended up getting spooked by the storm as well.

A loud clap of thunder sounded through the air, and all three of them clung to your sides in bed, trying to hide from the raging storm. Miyoung lets out a squeal and hides her face against your chest. Despite her fear, she giggles when the baby kicks in her direction. You don’t even realize your husband has returned home until the bedroom door pops open, and all three of your kids barrel toward him.

“Hello, my kits.” he giggles, “Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asks while squatting down to their level.

“I was sleeping, but Chae woke me up.” Seojun grunts.

“LIAR! HE WAS SCARED OF THE STORM FIR-” Chaewon starts her tangent but then jumps into her dad’s arms as thunder claps again.

Jaemin picks up all three of them. Miyoung on his back with one twin in each arm. He playfully tosses them on the bed, listening to the chorus of giggles that they let out. You smile at their playful nature despite how late at night it is. With a hand resting on your belly, you watch the interaction contently. Seojun’s grey ears flop back and forth each time Jaemin tickles him. Miyoung and Chaewon, with their soft brown ears try to escape the tickle monster that is their dad. Everything feels so warm and happy.

“I gotta go get changed real quick. These clothes smell like the yucky hospital.” Jaemin explains, “I’ll be right back to cuddle with you five.”

“Five?” you question with a giggle.

Jaemin leans over and kisses you softly, earning disgusted noises from your kids, “Five.” he confirms, placing a hand on your belly.

“Technically, she’s not here yet, so it’s more like a two-for-one situation.”

“Only a few more weeks.”

With that comment, Jaemin disappears into your closet to change into something much cleaner and more comfortable. After a twelve-hour shift as a pediatric surgeon, he absolutely needs to decompress. Cuddling with his babies and wife is exactly what he needs to do. When he comes back into the room, he sees Miyoung already curled up beside you, half asleep. The twins are still pretty hyper, but you’ll always blame that on how high-energy he is too. Before he can process what the two five-year-olds are planning, they’re each clung to one of his legs. Seojun is wrapped around his left leg while Chaewon is on his right. Jaemin drags his feet along the hardwood flooring trying to get to the bed. Both twins giggle excitedly as he does so. The moment he reaches the bed, they both detach and jump up onto the plush mattress. Jaemin climbs into the bed beside you. All three of the kids relax finally. Miyoung is already snoring lightly against your shoulder while the twins wind down finally.

“Pheromones?” you question. Jaemin nods, “How was work today?”

“Actually, not horrible. Two successful surgeries for those little ones I told you about the other day. Then a lot of planning for tomorrow and those surgeries. I’m actually really worried about-”

“Let’s talk about that when we don’t have three kids in our bed.” you interrupt. “Let’s just cuddle for now. We all need it.”

Your husband nods and starts gently stroking Chaewon and Seojun’s ears, lulling them to sleep. The storm starts to calm down outside, and you find yourself leaning your head onto your husband’s shoulder. Miyoung is fast asleep on your left, Chaewon on your right, between you and Jaemin. Seojun is contently curled up on Jaemin’s chest. Moments like these will always be treasured to you. No matter how long they are or how far in the past they may become.

“I love you.” Jaemin mumbles sleepily, “Thank you for giving me these four miracles.”

“I love you too, bunny. Get some rest. It’s been a long day for you.”

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[strawhatyami]

Why you absolutely should bother with watching One Piece in 2022:

Alright I'm going to get straight to the point.

Usually when you ask people “what’s so great about One Piece” the most popular answers will be about the loveable characters, good world building and great foreshadowing.

Which is all very true and I’m here to delve into why, starting with the main character :

Monkey D. Luffy:

I once saw someone describe Luffy as a "pretty simple character that is done right". And I must say that’s the best way to describe him.  His straightforward, curious, extroverted nature is the is the perfect window to explore such a vast interesting world.

Luffy does his own thing, he’s selfish in many ways, his main goal of becoming the king of pirates itself is rooted in selfishness and greed. But he’s still a chill and kind-hearted dude. It just so happens that the selfish things he wants in life are fairly tame things like eating lots of meat and punching those who hurt his friends or innocent people in the face.

And in truth, he’s quite the emotionally intelligent character which is such a charming quality that has landed him allies and friends all over the world.

In short: He’s just goofy and loveable and I like the fact that Oda ditched trying to force a "relatable" protagonist (him not having any internal monologues is a nice touch that fits his character well imo).

And before we move on, I’d like to give an honorable mention to Tanaka Mayumi who is such a wonderful voice actress<3

Next up : World Building and character design

This anime undoubtedly has some of the best world-building that I’ve ever seen.

Which is great because at its core, One Piece is an adventure manga not a battle manga. Sure fights and matchups are important and epic and Haki is one of the coolest power systems out there.

But also watching the heart wrenching relations and back stories of the characters and seeing everything connect and having characters from 400 episodes ago make a comeback and be relevant to the plot in ways you never expected is WHERE IT’S AT.

Oda plays a lot with foreshadowing and he’s very good with continuity and revisiting small details which makes the story a lot more cohesive as a whole.

Watching this show feels like an adventure which is what Oda was going for. It’s so immersive and really plunges you into this fictional world that is so well built and versatile that you will never find yourself bored because each island is a new story. A new adventure.

The character design is also top-notch.

Oda has opened many possibilities for himself with the art style as the cartoony style helps in creating a fantasy world, you get more design freedom when you're not limited to proper proportions and things like that.

And he uses that freedom to create memorable characters but also to integrate parts of their personalities into their designs. Some of my favorite character designs include Sir crocodile, Franky, Kuzan, Doflamingo, Boa Hancock and Baby 5 just to name a few.

Last but not least, The humor :

Okay so humor is subjective. However I can confidently say that no anime has ever made me laugh my guts out the way OP did, the humor is elite and the jokes (especially pre-time skip) hold up even 20+ years later which says a lot.

And I think what plays a big role in that isn’t so much the joke itself but the (often) deadpan and downright hilarious delivery from the talented voice actors.

SO TO RECAP:

Cool mc, watching him punch bad guys is satisfying af.

Great worldbuilding.

Lots of heartwarming moments.

Characters be silly and loveable.

Lots of tiddies. Male AND female.

It has Trafalgar Law in it.

But yeah real talk this show has been a source of comfort for me lately and I believe it has something for everyone (especially if you're a sucker for the found family trope, it does it really well.)

Plus with the manga drawing to an end now would be the perfect time to catch up~

[samanthahirr]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Off the Books (Skyfall AU, 00Q, Explicit, 83k WIP). By far my most ambitious project to date! The James Bond I’m writing as the narrative POV here feels like why I’ve loved James Bond for decades; the stoic spy, the broken man, the hopeful lover, the inveterate manipulator, the skilled fighter, the loyal subject, the shameless hedonist. And on top of all of that, the claustrophobic complexity of an unreliable narrator too busy ignoring his own traumas to see his world clearly. I’m really looking forward to writing the finale of this epic romance-and-revenge tale this Fall!

Please Ask (for Help) (James Bond, 00Q, Teen+, 29k). I think this has been my favorite fic to write. I wrote it based on a super-sweet art prompt of James Bond taking care of injured Q, and that sweetness gave me the excuse to fully indulge in all my favorite tropes: hurt/comfort, pining, and James Bond in love. Is it self-indulgent? Yes. Do I feel a bit exposed by all of the yearning in this fic? Yes. But every inch of this fic feels written ‘for me,’ which I suppose is why I loved every moment of the writing process.

Roman Holiday (Spectre AU, 00Q, Teen+, 2k). This canon-divergence prompt, randomly assigned as part of Festive Fanwork Fiesta, turned out to be the perfect prompt for me. I saw the whole scene instantly and wrote it in a rush of excitement. I’m really proud of the structure and pacing and dialogue and feelings packed into this short scene, not to mention the world of possibilities it opens up for what comes next. In a way I can’t put into words, this one feels like a quintessentially me fic, a perfect exemplar of my style.

Aftershave (The Man from UNCLE, Illya/Napoleon/Gaby, Explicit, 4k). I’m thrilled with how the characterizations and voices turned out in this fic; they feel like they’re straight out of the 2015 movie! For all that it’s an OT3 established relationship, I loved putting Illya into a situation where he has to confront his remaining reservations about Napoleon—the American’s incessant needling, the way his smirks always feel like an insult. And what better time to confront your trust issues (and your partner’s latent trust kink) than when he’s holding a knife to your throat…

A $500 Bottle of Bordeaux (Glam RPF, Adam/Kris, Teen+, 8k). This one’s a real throwback! The first fandom I ever wrote for was American Idol RPF, and even though I haven’t read or written RPF in several years, I have such a soft spot for this particular fic. What starts as a classic meet-cute between a fan and his Broadway-star crush becomes wildly complicated over the course of an intimate dinner party. I love how the four characters all have their own motivations and histories, and none of them are ‘bad’ people, despite the ways they hurt one another; there’s a lot of forgiveness and heart in this fic. The goodnight kiss at the end is some of my most romantic writing, and overall it’s a really hopeful, romantic story that always feels comforting to revisit.

Tag, you're it! @aprettyspy @spiritofcamelot @anyawen @hammerbacks @stinastar @dhampir72 @theserpentgirl

[charcadett]

Hi! Could we possibly get some headcanons of being an adopted child of Katy, please? Thank you!!

MY FAVORITE TROPE YESSSSS. Katy time! I am always happy to do characters who don’t have a lot of content on them. Um. I got VERY carried away with this one.

CW: Mentioned past parental death and mourning.

Being Katy’s Adopted Child

- Katy has so many Gym Challengers, names often slip her mind. It's not her fault, there's a near-constant revolving door of trainers. You, however, she recognizes in an instant. Your prowess in battle is hard to forget, especially at such a young age. Katy will never get tired of being surprised by Paldea’s youth. It’s odd. Instead of vigor lighting up your face, you're picking away at the front of your shirt, expression pinched and melancholic. Though she supposes that may be how you usually appear. She hasn’t known you for long, after all, only that one battle, it still worries her. Children should be off enjoying their day, not kicking rocks along the streets of Cortondo.

- While Katy's normally busy baking, this is far more important. Plucking a fresh croissant from a tray, she greets you with a kind smile. “Is everything alright?”

- You return her smile with one of your own, though its effect is lessened by how watery your eyes are. She sweeps you towards one of the outdoor tables and waits patiently as you nibble on your croissant. As much as she’d like to know what’s wrong, the last thing she wants to do is push you. So, she will sit here as long as you need, periodically bringing you some more pastries. Even if you never get the courage to speak, the least she can do is keep you well-fed.

- Finally, you tell her what’s wrong. It’s simple as it is heartbreaking. You miss home. Your parents have been dead for two years, and while the wound is healed, it hasn't stopped hurting. Clavell has been kind enough to waive your tuition. Your grades are exemplary, and it would be a mistake to lose such a wonderful student for something entirely out of their control. You have friends, you have food, and you have a roof over your head but it’s not home. And you’re scared it never will be. What if that feeling of comfort, of unconditional love, died along with your parents? How do you mourn something like that? There is no grave to visit, no words of comfort to be given. Just a gash on your heart that might never stop bleeding.

- You’re not quite as eloquent as you tell Katy. Your words are jumbled and choppy, but she can hear the tremor in your voice. Her heart shatters when your voice breaks as you dissolve into incoherent sobs. Carefully, she places a hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. The action only makes you cry harder, and she almost jerks back before you choke out a feeble thank you.

- There isn’t much she can do. Though Katy may be a stranger who wants to help, she’s a stranger all the same. Her bakery is a safe space for her. It’s always been a place she can truly be herself. Humming tunes under her breath as she bakes and bakes until she can’t anymore. She doesn’t know what she would do if she lost that. So, Katy offers to share that with you. If there is ever a time you need anything, you are always welcome to come to find her. She will be there to listen, to give advice, and to keep you fed; her door is always open to you.

- You take her up on the offer. Over the next few months, you find yourself on Katy’s doorstep more often than not. She teaches you how to bake, her advice is unmatched, and she helps you with your homework with a smile. Katy reminds you of your mom. Sometimes too much and you can feel your chest ache. As time passes, the ache lessens into a warmth you almost forgot. Katy’s guest room gets filled up with your things: Awards you won for academic achievements, your gym badges, even your stuffed animals. It doesn’t happen on purpose, you never meant to spend more time here than in your dorm, but here you are, and you couldn’t be happier. Eventually, Katy sits you down and asks if you would like her to be your legal guardian. You don’t have to call her mom, though you’re welcome to if you like, she wants you to know that this is permanent. She won't be going away anytime soon.

- It’s finally official. Katy is your legal guardian and normal doesn’t feel so out of reach anymore. Her guest room has become your room, and with a smile, you place your final possession on your bedside table. Your parents smile back at you. They’d be happy that you’re not alone anymore, you feel it in your bones.

[sleepyowlwrites]

Oops hit the wrong button when trying to send an ask. Time for me to go to sleep apparently.

How about you? What are some favorite very specific tropes that you have?

Hi rainstormdaughterdearest

Twins. Bonus points if they have magic (3/4 sets do)

Guy takes himself way too seriously and is oblivious as to how unhappy it makes him

Ambiguous older person who knows so much stuff that they won't tell the protagonists

"I don't need friends" vs "this one. I'm gonna be friends with this one"

The soul of the group that everybody else would protect with their lives

Plucky young lad who didn't ask to be the main character but here we are

Chill and competent lass who observes the chaos around her and sometimes also partakes

Cuddle piles

Fights that absolutely would be flirtatious except that the majority of my characters are non-romantic (at least I never mention if they are)

Everybody's some kind of asexual unless specifically stated in the text

Long-lost (ish) siblings and you better believe it's complicated

Opposites becoming good friends, often through coercion from their respective friends

Protagonist is not the main character

Random lingual stuff: slang, greetings in older dialects, the latin of the wip, phraseology

Sidekicks in various forms: twice possessed skeleton, talking animals, the resident clairvoyant, your brother who knows stuff, sunshine or raincloud, etc.

Can I interest you in some heavy emotions for a couple thousand words?

Sneaky magic

It's hot outside a lot for some reason

Thiefs. But the good kind?

Hurt/comfort sandwiched in between shenanigans

⬆️ that's just my main thing. All my wips can be summed up thusly

Bonus list of tropes I like

Bonus list of romance tropes I like

Thanks for asking 😊

[thefourchimes]

For the Fic Ask Game: 🥭🍇🥝

My bad for the late answer! Here we go:

🥭 Rank from most enjoyable/fun to write to least: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Crack.

Definitely Angst, Fluff, Crack, then Smut

I'd argue angst and fluff are tied, with crack being second only because I don't actually know how to write it intentionally (or more accurately, if the thing I write is even funny at all), but if I had it my way, it'd be a three way tie because I love all of them so much and it's fun to write for all of them when I can

And then there's smut—as mentioned before, I'm personally uncomfortable writing it, not to mention I don't even know how to 💀

🍇 Is there a particular scene/episode/book/etc that you want to just write a million fics about, over and over? Which one?

Oooh, this is an interesting one...I'm not fully sure if there's a specific one off the top of my head, as I just go with vibes and ideas out of the blue for the things I write

Though I guess Casita's fall scene and my love for the cool sisters spawned that one time travel au I thought about with how the two older cool sisters get sent back to the past after going back for Mirabel as Casita falls and protecting her, but I haven't made any progress with it recently

I also have this funny thing when I enter a new fandom, I sort of have a rite of passage every time of me thinking "is it possible to throw these characters into the underground of Undertale?" that tells me I'm really in deep in a media, hence why the Encanto Undertale AU exists right now

And on a more general note, anything that I'm hyperfixated on will usually always have ideas zooming in and attempting to form, like Encanto is right now

Case in point: my 235 page document of a (super super) self indulgent Encanto AU I'm planning right now (when will Mic ever shut up about this AU? Who knows!)

I probably forgot to mention others, but those are what I can think of atm eheh

🥝 What’s your favorite trope/AO3 tag to write?

Oooh, I got a couple I can think of rn:

Found family (or Friendship tags, and for actual ones that have related family members like Encanto, the actual Family tags, I just love dynamics and platonic relationships so much)

Angst with happy ending

Hurt/Comfort

Any relationship tag with the & because gen and platonic relationships ftw lets go!!

[Insert Character] needs a hug (I may love angst a little too much...)

Also, this is less favorite trope and more just an ao3 tag I like to use because of how convenient it is: "There's a Tag for That"

I sometimes just can't think of the right tag at that moment and couldn't be bothered to then, so that's another one lmao

Again, there are probably others but I can't remember them atm oof

Oh well, thanks for the ask!! :DD <33

[hergrandplan]

hi frienddd <3

7 and 10 for the writer asks plssss :)

7. Your favorite ao3 tag

I love any variation of "no beta we die like" and just in general when writers (myself included) use the tags to also just go off. i know that's not what tags are for but there's somethings you can't put in the summary that i still want people to know.

10. Top three favorite fic tropes?

Already answered this but obviously i'm gonna have more so here's three more tropes that are near and dear to my heart. (i just realized at least 4 out of the 6 i've mentioned so far are in suburban legends lol. i just love them so much)

Right person/wrong time (goes very well with second chances)

Hurt/comfort

Fake dating (or pretend relationship)

Send me a fic writing ask <3

[crazycatfaery]

A wonderful morning from your holiday anon. I'm here with, you guessed it, more questions! of all 13 eps which one is your favorite? which 3 things would you change about season 2? do you have 3 favorite fanfic tropes?

Omg hi anon!!! So happy to hear from you again! 😄💚

So sorry for my late reply, but it turns out you stumped me with the first two questions this time, so I went and rewatched the whole series with a notebook and pen in hand (I had to go through all the feels again because of this, how dare you! /affectionately).

My favourite episode: OMG WHAT. I can't choose just one! I liked the first episode of S1, because its an introduction of all the characters, and I like that Farah is in there a lot. I also like the last episode of S1, apart from the fact that Farah gets forced into her nap. My favourite scene is in that episode, with Farah opening up to Bloom and them hugging 🥺. But then I also really like episode 6 of S2, even though that's when we say goodbye to Farah. The whole conversation between Stella and Luna, Bloom's stasis dream with Aisha's words, Farah freeing her after wiping her tear...just, ugh 😭❤️. The problem is that I have things I love and things I don't in every episode of the show, so picking only one is so hard! The best I can do is narrow it down to S1Ep6 and S2Ep6 (hah, both episode 6), which are equally high up my list.

Three things I'd change about S2: Ooh are you ready because I have THOUGHTS.

Saul's emotionless reaction to the mention of Farah by Terra. Like, what the heck was that?? I already have a couple HC explanations for it, but I would've much preferred the addition of a small scene where we see a hint of him breaking down or very obviously keeping in his emotions (like punching a tree and then pretending everything is fine while someone looks at him with sad eyes, maybe Sky? *takes note of this for future fic*) to signal that he does, in fact, know about her death and DOES care a GREAT deal! I'm very passionate about this as you can tell.

Bloom and Rosalind's "fight". I don't like how Rosalind just kind of... stands there while Bloom gets ready to flambé her into a crispy piece of chicken. Couldn't they at least have done a little exchange of magical blows or something? Rosalind trying to attack Bloom (futile attempts ofc but still)? At the very least make it so Rosalind doesn't feel so weak in that moment. She's supposed to be a powerful fairy, more than Farah! I actually jumped on this scene for the fix-it event this year, and wrote THIS fic, if you haven't read it yet and want to know more about what I'd change. I even go more in-depth in the comments.👀

The pacing. Most of this season felt rushed. Maybe it would've helped if they'd added another episode and stretched it out a bit (as they initially promised), maybe they should've ended the season with Rosalind's crispyness so they would've had more room for all the previous storylines that season. Then again, we wouldn't have had that final goodby of Farah, unless the show did actually get renewed, in which case they could've scrapped that whole bit and just have Farah come back because Eve Best's filming schedule would've possibly alined better (wishful thinking, I know). Overall, I feel there were a lot of things left out that could've been told, and weren't because they focused on rushing towards Bloom going to the Dark Realm.

Three favorite fanfic tropes: Good god I have to breathe for a minute after that rant😂. I'm glad you put a positive question after that one!

I like to read all sorts of stuff, but the tropes I gravitate towards the most are: Fix-it fics (or canon-divergence AU), because of obvious reasons. Angst/fluff (or hurt/comfort?) fics, because I love me some angst as long as it has a happy ending (although sometimes I like a bittersweet ending too, if I need a good cry). And lastly I love Mutual Pining, because what else would I have my two favorite idiots do?❤️

I hope I understood this question correctly, because I always confuse tropes, genre's and styles? Have a few bonus ones I also enjoy, for if I actually got it wrong: There was only one bed, Five times fic, Missing Scene, and Friends to lovers.

[sergeant-spoons]

Secret Santa ‘22 (Pt 3)

Happy holidays, @rebeccapearson��​! Here is your third and final gift fic. I hope you like it! 💕

College Girl Christie

Pairing: Joe Toye x Female OC

Word count: 11,939

Tone: strangers to friends to lovers, idiots in love, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, city girl/small town boy trope; if you squint, it could be a Hallmark movie

Warnings: mentions of war trauma, PTS(D), and grief

Prompt: “It’s hard to get used to…” “What is?” “Being someone that someone cares for.”

Summary: It’s the Summer of 1945 and Winona Christie is on her way to bigger and better things at Boston College. She’s a few days into her drive when she gets stranded in a small Pennsylvania town in the dead space between Scranton and Wilkes-Barre. A friendly local takes an interest in her woes, and despite her best attempts to frighten him off, he sticks around, and before long, the shell around her bitter heart begins to crack. OR The one where Joe Toye knows what it's like to have a string of bad luck, one shitty thing after another.

Read it here on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, fucking finally."

Winona Christie slumps against the side of her 1934 Ford Coupe, letting her head fall back on the roof of the old car. She's spent the last two days driving through Pennsylvania and she's sick of it. It's mid-August, for fuck's sake, she should be swimming in the community center pool back home, not roasting in a metal box without air conditioning, keeping the windows down in a last-ditch attempt to keep cool. The landscape is made up (for the most part) of fields that go on for miles, boasting various crops (predominantly corn) in the last stages of maturation or the early days of harvest. She has passed more tractors today than she has cars and seen more cows than people. Her gas tank has run low, it's almost nightfall, and her eyes are smarting from hours and hours of staring down the most uninteresting road she's ever had to drive. If it's possible to have a least favorite highway, Route 81 would be it. Now she's finally made it to a tiny gas station with an attached store the size of a suburban garage and two pumps, only one of which is in working order. There are a few teenagers smoking cigarettes around the back of the store, but otherwise, there's no one around. Nona doesn't pay the kids any mind and they, in turn, ignore her.

Nona is tired, Nona is sore, and the greater Pennsylvania commonwealth is quickly sinking to the bottom of Nona's travel list.

"Long drive?"

Scratch that. Looks like there she's going to be bothered after all.

"What? No," she says as drily as she can muster, refusing to open her eyes. "Don't you think I've had the time of my life staring at stupid fucking cornfields all day? Fucking hell."

She hopes her obvious disinterest will send the stranger on his way, but he just chuckles and stays right where he is.

"Yeah, that's Pennsylvania for you." He shuffles a step, and Nona guesses he's looking at the gas meter. "Shit, you're still going. Guess you really were driving a while."

"And I guess you don't know how to take a hint."

"A hint?"

She cracks open one eye, letting her head loll to the left, and the tart response of kindly fuck off, would you? sticks on her tongue. This is not some creep who thinks he's about to get lucky with some out-of-towner—in fact, there is nothing sinister about this young man whatsoever. His low, gravelly voice did not at all prepare her for what he looks like. He's got big dark eyes and wavy hair that he's combed neatly down to the tops of his ears, the kind of hair you want to run your fingers through to see if it's really that soft. He's leaning on a crutch, but even with it, he's seriously tall. Nona doesn't bat an eye at his empty pant leg—with the war on, she's seen plenty of young men come home missing a limb or two—and there's something in the way he tilts his head that makes her think he appreciates it. Still, he's managed to catch Nona off-guard by how he's looking at her like she's an old friend. For a moment, she wonders if she should recognize him, but he hasn't called her by name, so he probably doesn't know her. She stands up straighter, the gas pump clicks, and the stranger offers his hand to shake.

"I'm Joe," he tells her, "Joe Toye."

She can't help a small smirk, and he grins.

"Toye with an ‘e’, sweetheart," he rasps, and she squints at him.

"I'm not your 'sweetheart', Toye-with-an-'e'."

"Sorry." He flashes that grin again. "Just thought you were pretty enough to be."

He's trying to make her smile, but she won't give in. He studies her face for a moment, then lets go of her hand and goes to the pump, putting it away for her and even going so far as to screw on her filler cap.

"Still waiting to understand that hint, College Girl."

Nona has moved to sit halfway on her driver's seat, one leg dangling out of the open door as she cleans her sunglasses with the hem of her shirt. Now, she pauses and looks up.

"'College Girl'?"

"Yeah." Toye points at the baseball cap on her head. "You go to Boston College, right?"

Nona takes it off and smooths down her hair, suddenly and uncharacteristically self-conscious.

"Not yet," she admits. "I start my first semester next month."

"Good for you." He itches the side of his nose. "I'm not smart enough for college."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Well, fuck that."

They stare at each other. After a beat, Nona cracks a smile, and Toye touches his free hand—the one not steadying his crutch—to his cheek.

"I can't believe it," he gasps drily, "she actually smiles."

"Oh, shut up."

She swats at his arm and he drops his hand, chuckling at his own humor.

"How'd you end up here, College Girl?"

She considers whether or not to tell him the truth, or just a fraction of it, or nothing at all, but then he looks at her with that old soul kind of sympathy and she relents.

"I've been driving cross-country for the last two days," she tells him. "This is the fifth gas station I've passed in the last three hours and I almost ran out of gas because I couldn't stop at the other four."

"No?"

"The first one was out of order, the only person around at the second one was this old guy who was already leering at me before I pulled up to the pump, so I just kept driving, then the third one was also out of order, and the last one a couple of miles back looked like something left over after the Blitz. Seriously. And no way in hell was I stopping there around dusk, so I kept going, and now I'm here, at the only gas station in working order in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. And to top it all off, the sun's setting, which means I'm stuck here overnight." Defeated, Nona throws her hands up toward the cloudy, slowly darkening sky. "So fuck me, I guess."

Toye's eyes widen just a little. As he bends his mouth in an upside-down smile, he leans against Nona's coupe, trying to strike a nonchalant pose.

"Sure thing," he teases, glancing her up and down, "but how about I buy you dinner first-"

She hits him on the shoulder, and though he teeters a little, he snorts a laugh.

"No, but really," he says, dropping the suave act, "that's some really shitty luck that landed you here."

"Where is here, even?" 

It's the question Nona's been reluctant to ask, but Toye doesn't even bat an eye.

"Hughestown, Pennsylvania." He looks down the road into town as if he can see the Atlantic Ocean from where he's standing. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you've still got a few hours to go 'til you hit New York—and that's just the state, not the city."

"Fuck." She leans against the car and groans long and hard. "Fuuuuck. Shit."

"You know, you swear a lot."

"And you-" She waves at nothing. "You don't shut up a lot."

"Uh-huh. Real quick. Sharpest comeback in the West."

She glares at him.

"Sorry. Sharpest comeback in the East."

Nona can't help a sigh. He's having too much fun with this conversation. She is not. Still, she might as well make some good use of his goodwill and try to find out where she can stay for the night. When she asks, he takes a moment to consider, and she thinks he might answer her seriously this time.

"You could stay with me."

"Yeah, no." Nona blinks at him. "You do realize we're still strangers, right? I don't know you."

Toye, flushing slightly, coughs, choking on his own discomfiture.

"Right, you don't know me," he repeats, and she's willing to bet the way he scratches behind his ear is a nervous habit. "I didn't mean to... Well. Sorry."

Despite herself, Nona hesitates, a little afraid she might not have any better options. Then he nods down the road and tells her there's a motel just ten minutes down the road that's always got a few rooms to spare, and she relaxes.

"We don't get many travelers through here," he adds, and Nona snorts.

"Well, shit, I wonder why."

It slips out without her thinking. Nona's face starts to flush, but Toye snorts a laugh, unoffended.

"Yeah, yeah. Not much to see around here, I get it." He pats the hood of her coupe and—finally—starts to step away, a bit slowly due to his crutch. "Good luck, College Girl."

Nona's almost sorry to see him go. Almost.

"Thanks... Joe."

He's got the hint of a smile on his lips as he turns away, and just like that, he's gone. She expects she'll never see him again. Not that she minds. He was nice enough, but she's got real things to worry about, like getting to Boston and starting college and having her whole life ahead of her, not kind-of-sweet, kind-of-snarky small-town boys from Hughestown, Pennsylvania. It starts sprinkling as Nona pulls out of the gas station, and by the time she gets to the motel, that drizzle has turned to buckets and buckets. She braces herself, then steps out into the downpour and gasps—it's cold, not warm like she'd anticipated. She forces the trunk with the broken lock open and yanks out her traveling suitcase, nearly wrenching her shoulder in her haste. Racing into the lobby, she gasps in a few breaths as her adrenaline fades, grateful for the stuffy, uncomfortably dry air of the indoors. The attendant at the desk doesn't look at Nona even when she comes right up to him, and she realizes he's asleep in his chair. She rings the bell and that does nothing, so she kicks the desk and he wakes with a start. He sleepily checks her in and gives her a key, and when she asks where her room is, he has the gall to point all the way across the parking lot.

Great. Just fantastic. Now she's got to go back out there in the deluge—but at least she'll have a ceiling over her head once she gets there.

Wrong again.

As soon as Nona tries the key in the lock, she can tell it's not going to fit. She wiggles it around a bit, then—after glancing around to make sure there's not a soul around, and there really isn't—attempts to shoulder the door open. It's flimsy enough that she could probably kick it in, but that would be a bad idea on so many counts, so she grits her teeth and turns over her shoulder to look back at the single light coming through the lobby window. She's not about to leave all of her things here in the dark and the rain for anyone to grab, so yet again, she hauls her suitcase all the way back across the parking lot, growing more agitated with every sopping step. At this point, she's drenched down to the bones, and the sound of her shoes squelching across the shitty carpet wakes the attendant from where he's been dozing off again. He looks confused when she tells him the key isn't working, then takes it and tells her almost immediately that it's the wrong key, not even batting an eye at his own mistake. Nona just barely manages not to cuss him out, mutters her thanks for the right key through gritted teeth, and traverses the parking lot one last resentful time.

The room is lackluster at best, but Nona wasn't all that optimistic, to begin with. As soon as the door is shut and locked behind her and all the shades are drawn on the windows, she hurls the suitcase onto the floor in the corner and strips off her sopping clothes. She rings them out over the sink and hangs them on the towel rack to dry, but now she's shivering, so she wraps herself in a scratchy towel and starts the shower. No matter how long she runs the water, it only gets lukewarm. She should have expected as much. Still, she steps in despite her mumbled curses and feels a little better once she's washed all the grime of the day away. It takes her a bit to brush all the tangles out of her hair, but by then, she's calmed down quite a bit and is starting to realize just how tired she is. So she goes to lie down, but the bed is lumpy as can be, and she gets up again almost immediately. In a last-ditch attempt, she grabs a paperback romance missing its cover off the meagerly-stocked bookshelf and curls up on the surprisingly-comfortable armchair. From page one, she can tell it's going to be a terrible book—the kind even her soft-spoken mother would call 'trashy'—but it fits the bill for her lousy day, so she keeps reading until she's bored asleep.

When Nona wakes up the next morning, she's got so many aches and spots of soreness that she's not sure she can even move. She manages to after a time, and when she goes into the bathroom, the light switch has stopped working. Thankfully, there's a small window above the shower that lets in enough daylight for her to see, for the most part. Once her eyes adjust, she brushes her teeth, combs her hair, and gathers up her clothes, which are still damp but no longer drenched. She knows they'll start to smell musty if she stuffs them into the suitcase like they are, and then all of her clothes will smell, so she decides to drape them over the passenger seat in the coupe and let the sun dry them through the windshield as she drives. Once she's dressed, she takes the key back to the lobby, and the same yawning attendant from last night wishes her happy travels. Oh, if he only knew...

Shaking her head to herself, Nona dumps her suitcase in the trunk of the coupe and gets into the driver's seat. She adjusts her rearview mirror, checks that she's still got her map in the glove compartment, and turns the key in the ignition.

Except, the car doesn't start.

"No, no, no, no, no-"

She tries again, then a third time, and by the tenth, she slumps forward, defeated. Her forehead hits the horn on the steering wheel, and when it blares, she groans right along with it. No one comes out to complain, not even the attendant, so she just sits like that for a minute and groans into the wheel. This is what she gets, isn't it? Maybe she should have been nicer to that Joe Toye at the gas station. He was a looker, wasn't he? Doesn't matter now. No one can help her now that the coupe's run its course. She should have known better than to keep holding on, but all three of her brothers drove this car before her, and she's been hard-pressed to trade it in for a newer model. She wishes she could say the age of the coupe is no big deal, that nine years isn't that old for a car, but that kind of thinking is exactly what has landed her stuck in a motel parking lot, turning a key that won't catch and listening to the car sputter and groan like an old man refusing to wake up from a nap in his best recliner.

And then someone comes up and raps on her window, and when she looks up, she can't tell if it's a blessing or a curse that Joe Toye has found her in dire straits yet again.

"Morning, College Girl."

Though his voice is muffled, Nona can read the words on his lips. She furiously cranks down the window, gaping at first and then glaring.

"You again!"

"Me again."

He gestures with such half-hearted bravado that it makes Nona want to snort with incredulity instead of laughter.

"Of course, you just have to show up like this. Again." She narrows her eyes at him. "Are you following me?"

"No."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

He holds up a box of donuts, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at a busy bakery across the street. "Getting breakfast for me and the old man. Want a donut?"

"No, I don't want a donut!"

He shoots her a disbelieving look and she, frustrated to the breaking point, slaps her steering wheel.

"I just want to get the fuck out of here!"

"Something wrong?"

"Well, I'm still here talking to you, aren't I?"

He seems either unphased or amused by her outrage, and Nona isn't sure which is more infuriating. Taking a bite out of a plain-looking donut, he scans her dashboard display.

"Is it your car?" he asks through a doughy mouthful. "That something's wrong with, I mean."

"Yes, it's my car!" she shouts, and a single frustrated blink later, she finds a donut in her hand. "What the hell...?"

"It's an old-fashioned. Best kind, in my opinion." He gestures with his own breakfast treat. "C'mon, eat."

Nona is at a loss, staring at the donut, torn between stewing in her misery and taking the appeasement he's offered. Toye adjusts how he's standing on his crutch, one hand on the windowsill while the other balances the donut box, and studies the hood as if he can see the issue with it still shut.

"What's wrong with the car?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me!"

He comes back to the window but withdraws his hand. He looks like he wants to be hurt but is choosing to be amused instead. Nona manages to keep her glare going for a good three seconds more before she drops her chin and takes a reluctant bite of the donut. It tastes better than she expects, and better yet, her nibbling seems to have appeased Toye.

"I'm sorry," Nona says at last. "I didn't really think you would've tried anything malicious."

"Malicious, huh? Big word."

She shoots him a look, but there isn't much oomph behind it, and he doesn't bother to react.

"Look," Nona sighs, utterly defeated, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm at the end of my wire, but it's not like it's your fault."

There's a smile creeping back onto Toye's lips, and Nona, for a reason she can't place, is relieved.

"Hey, no sweat. I get it."

She frowns lightly at him, skeptical, already halfway through the donut. She is hungry, despite her earlier protests, and Toye is wise enough not to comment on her change of heart.

"You've been in this situation before?" she asks him.

"What, the almost running out of gas, the storm last night, and the oldest car I've ever seen finally throwing in the towel?"

There is something about having her misfortunes listed out like this that makes them seem less abominable, and Nona softens a little.

"Yeah, that."

"No," Toye admits, "but I know what it's like to have a string of bad luck, one shitty thing after another."

"Yeah?"

His gaze drops toward the pavement, and Nona doesn't have to look to know he's looking at his missing leg.

"Yeah."

Feeling a bit guilty, Nona twists in her seat to face him. He grasps the car door with his broad hands and leans down to look at her, his strong arms filling up half the window frame. When he leans his chin on his hands, looking up slightly to meet Nona's eye, she wonders for an instant how she ever could have thought him a scamp.

"So?"

"So? So what?"

"So you live around here, right?"

He nods.

"You know who I should call for a tow?"

His smile begins to grow, pushing up his cheeks. The dimples it reveals make Nona want to smile, too.

"I think your luck just might be turning around, sweetheart, 'cause you've just befriended the best handyman 'bumfuck nowhere' has to offer."

Nona's cheeks heat up. So he did catch that, last night. Her embarrassment must show on her face, for Toye snickers. When she squints at him half-heartedly, that snicker becomes a laugh.

"We've got Scranton to the northeast and Wilkes-Barre to the southwest," he chuckles, standing up straight, "and you still think we're in the middle of nowhere?"

Although there seems to be nothing but cornfields and tired old streets as far as the eye can see, Nona shrugs and holds her tongue.

"You said you're a handyman," she points out, "that doesn't necessarily mean you're a mechanic."

Toye scoffs. "What good's a handyman if he doesn't know how to work a car?" 

Seeing Nona's disbelief has persisted, Toye pouts at her, and she almost feels bad. Almost.

"Really, what else am I supposed to do around here? I get a job fixing someone's busted AC one week and then changing a lightbulb or two for some old lady the next—if the ceiling's low enough that I don't need a ladder. Work comes slow around here for a guy like me."

They both know he doesn't want her to question the 'guy like me' bit, so she skips over it and remarks instead, "So you are a mechanic."

"Yeah, I work part-time at the auto shop down the road. Give me fifteen, I'll drive my pickup back and bring the tow truck to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course, I'm serious!" He looks almost offended again. "I'm not gonna leave a pretty girl such as yourself stranded—and if that look you're giving me means anything, I should probably remind you that it is, in fact, my actual paying job to help you."

Nona sighs and tugs her key out of the ignition. "Alright. Well, thank you."

"Like I said, of course."

He tips his head at her, then turns and saunters away toward his truck, wobbling a little with the quickness of his pace. Nona frowns.

"You're going to trip."

He ducks his head, and she can already tell there's a grin splitting across his face without having to see it.

"Aww," he calls over his shoulder, "you do care."

Nona fights back a smile and then resists the opposing urge to flip him off. 

"Are you going to get that tow truck or what?"

He waves off her concern, tugging open the door to his pickup, and Nona grumbles empty complaints as she sinks back into her seat. She doesn't realize she's still staring at Toye until he waves and shoots her a smirk. Pretending she hasn't seen, she turns and starts rifling through her glove compartment as if she might find something to captivate her attention there. She doesn't find much there other than a few sticks of gum, two expired ration slips for white sugar (for a cake that the birthday boy never came home for), and two brand-name chapsticks that have melted gruesomely in the heat. She grabs the map off the passenger seat and occupies herself figuring out how to fold it back up. This takes her a few minutes, and by the time she looks up, Toye is far gone down the road behind her, a dark, shimmering speck in her side mirror. In the dashboard console, she finds a packet of Lucky Strikes that her father left there absentmindedly and takes one of the two left. Her lighter is at the bottom of her purse, and by the time she finds it, she no longer wants to smoke. She's just sitting back up (from where she'd bent over her purse) when someone honks their horn. She hits her head on the headrest, and as the cigarette falls into her lap, she swears loudly. Twisting to lean out her window, she readies a snappy word or two only to find Toye grinning at the wheel of a battered tow truck idling behind her.

"I'm back," he calls unnecessarily, and despite Nona's feigned disapproval of the man, she grabs her purse and gets out of the coupe.

Toye hooks up the car and Nona helps a little, then follows his direction to hop in the passenger seat of the tow truck. If he tries anything—which, at this point, she doubts—she's got a solid punch, and the brass knuckles in her purse (just in case) are never far from reach.

"You can drive?" she questions as he opens the driver's side door, then feels incredibly stupid and insensitive for having asked.

 "I only need one foot—the clutch is up here on the wheel."

He taps the steering to show her, then hauls himself up—it suddenly makes sense to Nona why his arms are so buff—and settles in behind the wheel. There's a second, smaller seatbelt affixed to the side of his chair, and she watches curiously as he latches it over the stump of his leg.

"Keeps me balanced," he says when he catches her looking.

"It's a good idea," she replies, seeming to surprise him. "I know a lot of people who'd get a lot of use out of something like that."

Something in his gaze has shifted when he looks back at her, something tenderer than she deserves, and she turns away. He doesn't speak as he maneuvers them out of the parking lot. She's glad for the silence until it lasts too long and she realizes with a start that she misses the sound of his husky voice. He catches her jolt and eyes her for a beat, then opens his mouth.

"So... where to?"

She squints at him. “The auto shop.”

“No, no, I mean-” He waves vaguely. “Where are you going once you get outta Hughestown?”

Nona huffs, reticent.

"You know where I'm going, Joe."

He shrugs, a small smile creeping upon his lips as they both realize she's just called him 'Joe'.

"Just trying to make conversation."

They pass a minute or two in silence. Then:

"See any good scenery on your drive so far?"

She shoots him a skeptical look, and he raises his brow at her, awaiting an answer.

"Cornfield after cornfield after fucking cornfield. And then, oh, what's that?" She gestures out the open window. "Soybeans! And not two minutes later: fuck, it's another cornfield."

Toye's laughing, and there's something about the sound that makes Nona—who usually knows when to let a joke end—keep going.

"I've seen more corn in the last three days than I've seen in my entire life—more than I'll ever need to see again!"

"The western half of the state does have a lot of corn, I’ll give you that."

"Holy hell, talk about the understatement of the century."

She throws her hands up, but she's mostly playing her exasperation up to get him to laugh again, and though she's pretty sure he knows it, he plays along.

"So, what, you came up through West Virginia?"

"Ohio."

He hums a note of recognition. "Alright, Ohio. Then straight into Pennsylvania?"

"Yeah, straight into Pennsylvania, which was, to be frank, a fucking mistake."

He snorts a laugh, and there's a twinkle in his eye that Nona finds hard to look away from. "Oh, so you're Frank? I didn't know that was your name."

"It's not, and you know it," she chides him, making a face, but he doesn't tease her like she's expecting him to—in fact, he says nothing. He glances over at her, both hands still firm on the steering wheel, and does it a second time before he speaks.

"Actually," he reminds her carefully, "I don't know that."

"Oh." Nona blinks. "Wait—so you came to help me, a total stranger, out of the unfathomable goodness of your heart, who's cussed you out multiple times, and you don't even care that I haven't told you my name?"

"I never said I didn't care." He tilts his head to the right, then the left. "It would be nice to have a name to call you by, not just 'College Girl'."

Nona's still stuck on the fact that he's helping her just because he can. It feels weird. She's not so sure she's able to believe it, even if she wants to.

"What makes you think you can trust me?" she goads. "That I'm not gonna- I dunno, rob you of all that you own?"

He doesn't even have to think about it. "Your smile."

This baffles her even further. "My what?"

"Your smile," he repeats, turning on his blinker and leaning forward slightly to see around an overgrown bush. "You don't smile much—or, at least, not around me—but when you do, it's like, uh..." He drums his fingers on the wheel, trying to think of the right depiction. "Like when the sun rises after a stormy night. It's... reassuring."

Nona isn't quite sure what to say to that. They pull up to a four-way stop and Toye puts the truck into park. He looks at her and she realizes he's not going to go on without her telling him her name. She feels silly for having withheld it so long, and in an attempt to make amends, she reaches across the dashboard console and insistently takes his hand to shake.

"I'm Winona," she tells him at last. "Winona Christie."

He gives a low whistle. "Like Agatha, right? I like her books. Good mysteries. I borrow them from the library sometimes."

"We're unrelated, sorry to disappoint."

He shrugs. "Not disappointed." A beat. "Winona."

"Oh, no," she quickly insists, "call me Nona."

When he grins at the green traffic light ahead of them, she expects he would be turning that smile upon her were he not focused on completing a U-turn.

"Nona," he muses. "I like it. Nona. Short and sweet." A slight smirk. "Like you."

"Uh-huh."

He quirks a brow at her. "Jeez. Tough crowd."

She shoots him a look, and he lifts one hand off the steering wheel to plead his defense.

"Alright, you win. Look—we're here."

They passed by the auto shop about half a minute ago, and Nona was wondering why until Toye made the U-turn. She sees now that there is no way to get to the shop from the other side of the street, as there is a raised concrete divider smack in the middle despite the road being one lane in either direction.

"Fucking Pennsylvania," she gripes as she gets out of the truck. "Can't build a goddamn road without something wrong with it."

"Now that," Toye says, unbuckling his two seat belts, "I can agree with."

It takes him a minute longer than Nona to get on his feet, but she doesn't say anything about it, and neither does he. He's shutting the driver's side door when an older gentleman in overalls and a button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows comes out of the auto shop. He looks a bit like Santa Claus, with his cheeks all red and his nose big and round. His name is Mr. O'Connery, and as he eats three donuts in a row without ceasing to talk (even more of an impressive feat considering that he's talking coherently), he tells her that he's got a daughter who's a nurse who looks an awful lot like her. She's in Australia, and Nona is here. She feels a little small for a moment, a little useless, and then Joe interrupts and points out the coupe on the back of the tow truck, and Mr. O'Connery is off like a shot. They haul it down and push it into the shop as Nona watches, chewing nervously on her lower lip. They're careful with the old dear, though, and get it into position without a scratch. As Mr. O'Connery eagerly pops the hood, Joe sidles up to Nona and tells her not to mind the old mechanic's chatter—he'll be bragging about his children until the day he dies.

"And that includes you, Joe," Mr. O'Connery adds, overhearing, and when Nona looks at Joe in surprise, she finds him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"In a lot of ways," he tells her, "the old man's another father to me."

Marveling at how old the coupe is (though Nona would beg to differ), Mr. O'Connery calls Joe over to have a look inside the hood, and Nona amuses herself by wandering around the shop. For the most part, the visible walls are covered in various tools and places to hang other equipment, but there's a spot about three-quarters of the way to the back where the only thing from floor to ceiling is a landscape painting the size of a small windowpane. Nona gets up close to look at it, and as she admires the water lilies floating on an unknown pond, she can hear Toye's crutch-step, crutch-step pace coming up behind her. He settles at her side and she points at the painting, her curiosity authentic.

"What's this?"

"It's a painting."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Toye thinks for a moment, then looks at her with a smile, endeared that she's harkening back to his enjoyment of mysteries. Feeling a bit warm in the face, Nona turns back to the painting and gestures at it vaguely.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Paris." He studies the canvas. "Bought it off a street artist 'cause I thought it kinda looked like a Monet."

"Oh, yeah." She tilts her head. "It kinda does."

She's being genuine, and when she straightens up, she sees he's looking at her again. She huffs and steps back, smoothing her hands down her skirt.

"You do that a lot, you know."

"Do what?"

"Stare at me."

Toye snorts. "No, I don't."

"Liar," chuckles Mr. O'Connery as he ambles on over. "Yes, you do."

He holds out his fist and Nona bumps it with her own. Toye groans.

"So?" Nona asks, pretending not to notice how Toye's gone right back to staring at her. "What's the verdict?"

The old man looks at Toye, then at her.

"I think I'm gonna need a few more hours to figure it out."

Nona sighs, and he grimaces sympathetically, slinging a greasy rag over his shoulder.

"Come back around, say, five in the afternoon, and I'll let you know what I can do." He turns to Toye. "Hey, Joe, be a gentleman and take the lady to the diner, yeah? Bet she's starving."

"Are you?" Toye looks worriedly at Nona. "Hey, did you have dinner last night? I know they don't serve food at the motel..."

Nona glances aside. "Maybe."

"So that's a no." He gives her a meaningful look, then starts toward the door, beckoning her after him. "Come on. One donut isn't enough to sustain you for a day—even if it is an old-fashioned."

The diner is mostly empty by the time they get there. Nona supposes that's because it's too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, but she has a sneaking suspicion that the place doesn't hit full capacity even during rush hour. Maybe it's just because the town isn't that big and is full of working people who can't afford to eat out every day of the week. Nona's hesitant to order a full meal, but Toye raves about the steak and cheese until she gives in, and when it arrives, it blows her expectations out of the water.

"You didn't do this justice," she mumbles around a heavenly bite. "This thing-" She points at the sandwich. "-is incredible."

"Right?" He points at the pink delight sitting by her elbow, so far undisturbed. "Try the milkshake."

She does and slumps back in her seat, blissful. Toye takes a sip of his own milkshake and hums a note of appreciation.

"Good, right?"

"I love this place." Nona looks around, her mood drastically improved now that she's got some food in her. "I never want to leave."

Toye laughs. "Because of the company, or...?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she replies, but she's teasing, and it only makes his smile grow.

"I think you like me, after all," he says, trying to steal a fry off her plate and wincing when she swats his hand away. "Hey! Yours are hotter than mine."

"Yeah." She nibbles at her fries, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "That’s ‘cause they're mine."

Toye snickers. "Don't flatter yourself."

With a gasp, she pretends to be offended and throws a fry at his face. He moves his head quicker than she's expecting though and catches it with his teeth.

"Show-off," she grumbles, and he chuckles as he munches away.

"So, College Girl," he says, "tell me about yourself."

"Really? We're doing this, now?"

"Why not?" He dabs at his lip with a napkin. "We're just wasting time until five o'clock."

He's right, so she answers him in full. She's on her way to college, which he already knew, and she's driving there alone because her folks can't travel well, her father with his knee, and her mother with her back. When she mentions that she's from Columbus, Ohio, he perks up.

"I knew a guy in the service from there," he says. "Johnny Martin. You knew him?"

"Johnny Martin who always looks angry unless he's smiling? Johnny Martin who's married to my neighbor Pat? That Johnny Martin?"

Toye's nodding grows more excited the more she speaks. "Yeah!" he agrees almost incredulously. "That Johnny Martin!"

They share a laugh.

"Small world."

"Yeah, small world." He considers, glancing up at the ceiling. "I got a letter from him last week, actually."

This news—that Johnny Martin, who Nona knows only by proxy of Pat—cheers Nona up far more than she would have expected. She beams at Toye and he pauses with the last of his sandwich halfway to his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just- it's good to hear that. Really. So where's he at?"

Toye's smiling again, and Nona gets the feeling he likes her more now. "Couldn't say. Censors and all that. But he said it's green and warm and they've got a lake to swim in, so my bet's on France or Austria."

"Ooh, a lake," Nona muses, a tad jealous considering the sweltering heat of the last few days. "And if it's in Austria, it's probably somewhere up in the mountains."

Toye nods. "If it's a vacation they've got, they've more than earned it."

"No doubt about it," she agrees, meaning it wholeheartedly, and his smile broadens.

"Mhm."

After a beat, he leans forward a little, putting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand.

"So what else? About you."

After she graduated high school, Nona took a gap year in order to save up money for her secondary education. She'd expected to take a four-year working hiatus, but then several sums of painfully-won money came into her family's possession—she's not ready yet to tell him how, and he doesn't ask—and she was able to go this year instead of '48.

"Why Boston?"

"I got in," she answers with a shrug. "It was either that or Ohio State..."

And Ohio State was where my brothers would have gone.

"And Ohio State was too close to home."

It's the truth, but it's not the whole truth, and though he seems to realize that, Toye doesn't mention it.

"So, I'm going to BC. I started the drive to Boston on Tuesday-" Three days ago, including today. "-and now I'm here. And you know the rest."

"Good for you." He points with a fry. "About, uh, 'BC', I mean. Whole world's your oyster now."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're gonna have a college degree in, what? Four years? Two? A Bachelor's or an Associate's in whatever." He shrugs, munching on the fry as well as several of its brethren. "Pretty much everyone's lookin' for one of those these days. Can't get hired for much more than the kind of work I do—work with my hands—without one."

"That's not true," she says without really believing herself, and Toye shoots her a skeptical look.

"Trust me, sweetheart. Times are changing. Soon there's not gonna be much room left for stupid guys like me."

"You're not stupid, Joe," she argues. "You read Agatha Christie mysteries, for one, you bought a street artist's painting in Paris because you knew it looked like a Monet, for two, and for third, I suspect you've looked into this whole college thing for yourself, or you wouldn't know the difference between a Bachelor's and an Associate's degree."

Nona realizes she's glaring at him and quickly blinks away the expression, leaning back as she hopes she hasn't made this strange friendship of theirs any more awkward.

"Well." She crosses her arms. "So there."

He stares at her for a moment longer, then puts his milkshake down and crosses his arms on the table.

"My Dad made me drop outta school when I was fifteen," he reveals quietly. "I had to go work in the coal mines so my brothers and sisters could eat."

Nona's face suddenly feels hot with anger—not at Toye, but at what he had to go through. Her family has never been well-off, especially not during the Depression, but she never had to drop out of school to work. No child should have to do that. And for the coal mines? Jesus Christ Almighty.

Nona doesn’t realize she's been mumbling most of her sentiments aloud until Toye grimaces and tilts his head back and forth.

"Yeah. Well, they can eat now, without my help. But hey, at least it wasn't war." He chuckles grimly. "That came a few years down the road."

Nona looks down at her plate and pokes at her fries. She's not hungry anymore. When she offers them to Toye, he makes a face and apologizes for bringing the mood down. She hesitates a beat, then asks if he'll allow her to sink it to the floor.

"Go ahead."

"My brothers are dead. All three of them."

She looks out the window. She hasn't cried in months, and it's strange to think she might start now.

"It happened over the last few months. First Patrick, then Don—Donaghue—and finally Michael."

Toye is silent for a long moment.

"So you've got an Irish family?"

While they've been sitting here, dark clouds have rolled in, threatening more rain. She can see her companion's reflection in the glass of the window. He doesn't look all that concerned. In fact, he looks like he's spent a long time talking about Death—as it stands, he's probably narrowly missed meeting the man himself—and he knows how to do it well.

"Yeah," she answers softly, knowing she's waited too long for her reply to make sense, but he gets it right away.

"Me too."

He ends up taking her fries, then leans back and nudges her foot under the table with his own, nearly losing his balance in the process. He's been too kind to Nona for her to mention it, even in teasing, and she nods, allowing him to say whatever it is he wants to.

"I get it now."

"Get what?"

"Why you're so bitter."

She balks, but he shakes his head, drumming his fingers on the table.

"No, really, I get it. I was pretty bitter too when I first got back."

She glances at the crutch leaning against the side of their booth, and he nods.

"Happened last January. You ever heard of the Bois Jacques?"

"No."

"Nobody does. Not unless you live there—or General Eisenhower boots your ass to the middle of the fuckin' woods." He leans over the table, and though he tries to hide it, Nona notices his shiver. "Like I said, it was January."

"Brrr."

Just then, thunder rumbles, and the lights in the diner flicker. Toye winces and Nona instinctively reaches across the table to touch his hand. He stares at her fingers covering his, and just as she's about to draw them back, he turns his hand over and takes hers to hold.

"You wanna get outta here?" he asks, still studying her hand as if trying to put it to memory.

"And into that?" She frowns at the rain starting to pelt the windows. "No fucking thank you."

So they stay at the diner for another two hours until the weather lightens up, and by then, they're so deep in conversation that neither wants to leave. It's not like Nona's got anything to do all afternoon other than stick with Joe. But maybe she shouldn't phrase it that way—after all, she's really starting to like him. So when he offers to take her back to his place, telling her it'll be quieter and that he's got a pitcher of fresh iced tea in the fridge from his mother, she accepts. At the stop sign just around the corner from his house, he pulls to a stop even though there's not another car in sight. She half suspects he's being warier as a driver now that he's got her in the passenger seat. She appreciates it, even if she wouldn't tell him so. They end up sitting at his kitchen counter, sipping iced tea so bitter it makes their lips pucker and talking about everything under the summer sun. When her watch finally indicates it's a quarter to five, she almost doesn't notice, but Joe does, and he gets her to the auto shop right on time.

"Bad news, I'm afraid," is what Mr. O'Connery greets them with, and when Nona's shoulders slump, she catches Joe about to wrap his arm around her in a side hug. She wishes he would, but he drops his hand instead and clears his throat roughly.

"What bad news?"

"I'm gonna need more than a couple o' days to fix this old puppy up." He looks back over his shoulder as he puts his hands on his hips and rocks on his heels. "Shouldn't be too long, less than a week, but, uh... You're stuck with us until then, kid."

"I kinda figured as much," Nona sighs, already picturing another night in that miserable motel, but then Toye pokes her arm and she remembers she's got a friend to fall back on now.

"I know you called me a creep last time I offered, but, uh, I do have a spare bedroom..."

To her surprise just as much as his, Nona turns and hugs him in a burst of gratitude. It's brief, but it's still something, and when she steps back, she sees he's blushing.

"Sure, yeah.” She glances aside, not sure if she should be embarrassed or endeared at his pink cheeks. "And, uh, Joe—thank you."

She ends up staying with him for a week and a half. It's longer than she thought, and she keeps having to make calls to her landlord out in Boston to update her on the situation. She's not very happy at the delay, but she's forgiving enough, knowing that there's nothing Nona can do about it. She calls her folks, too, and though her father thinks it's just the funniest thing that the old coupe finally broke down, her mother starts sobbing, and they have to hang up. It's jarring and raw and Nona freezes with the receiver still in her hand until Joe comes up to her and gently hangs it back up. He holds out a deck of cards and distracts her with canasta for the next hour until the iciness in her chest has abated and she can take a full, deep breath again.

She's not sure when she started, but she's taken to calling him 'Joe', addressing him by name much more regularly than she did before she moved in. He gets a twinkle in his eye whenever she does. He still calls her 'sweetheart', but she knows if she told him to stop, he would. Strangely, she doesn't him want to. Only sometimes does he address his teasing to 'Nona', and when he does, she gets a little flutter in her chest. It's just her name, what everyone calls her, but there's just something about his voice, something about him...

A week in, she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror, her hands shaking as she clutches the sink, and swears she's not falling in love with him.

She goes down the hall and discovers the pleasant smells coming from the kitchen are him making breakfast for her. It's almost done, he says, knowing it's her without having to check, pull up a chair. The second she sits down, he serves up two fried eggs, a slice of bacon, and four triangles of toast, and she stares at it for a moment, her heart thudding in circles around her chest. That first day in the diner, he was asking her all sorts of things she thought were silly, like how she liked her eggs in the morning. She told him rather flippantly, but he's remembered nonetheless. He keeps stealing glances at her from over at the stove like he wants to know what she thinks, so she takes a bite and smiles at him. When he beams right back, his whole face lights up, and she knows she's done for.

He takes her all over town during that week and a half. She can tell it's not easy on his arm and his leg to be walking around with his crutch all the time, but she knows he would hate her worrying over him, so she says nothing, just walks a little slower than she usually would and then speeds up to open doors for him before he can ask. He drives them everywhere, and though Nona has offered once or twice to sit behind the wheel, he says he likes driving. It's one of the few things he can still do almost exactly the same as before. He brings her to a different place every day. First, it's the diner, then the library, then the park, then the movie theater... If Nona didn't know any better, she'd think he was trying to squeeze six months' worth of dates out of ten days. But he's just her friend, and 'date' is not a word they could ever use to describe these outings with just the two of them looking at each other too long. He's just her friend, just for now while she's stuck here in Hughestown, and even if that makes her sad to think about, she'd never tell him. If she did, she's certain he'd look at her with those sad, soulful eyes, and she'd tell him how she's falling, harder and faster than she's ever fallen before, and how she knows he's going to break her heart when she leaves, and that's why she's so sad. Not because she'll miss a new friend, but because she's leaving a piece of her heart here, whether she likes it or not.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

It's been nine days and Nona is still in Hughestown. She's sitting with Joe in their usual booth at the diner, and for a change, she's the one staring at him. She ducks her head and twirls her straw in her milkshake, taking a slow sip as if it will hide her from his curiosity. It does not.

"No reason," she mumbles, and he snorts a laugh.

"Uh-huh. I definitely believe that."

When she looks up, he smiles encouragingly, like he wants to hear what she has to say. She's still getting used to that. Even with her folks, she doesn't really have that kind of open ear. Not that she doesn't love them, she does... They were just always more attentive to her brothers. Now that she's the only one left, it isn't much different. Maybe it's just that they're all still grieving. Yeah, that's got to be it.

Nona's chipped heart won't let her believe otherwise.

"It’s just... It's hard to get used to," she admits aloud, then goes quiet, not sure she's got the courage to tell him the rest.

 "What is?"

He pokes the side of her hand, looking a little worried that he's done something wrong, and that just won't do, so she tells him the truth:

"Being someone that someone cares for."

He softens, taking her hand to hold.

"Of course, I care about you." His smile tugs up at the corners. "I need somebody to help me pay the rent, and I've been thinking maybe you could stick around-"

It's exactly the kind of joke she needs to hear, and she grabs her hand back, laughing and scolding him for his beautiful, thoughtful insensitivity.

"What do you think of Boston?" she teases him, actually a little curious as to what he'll say. "Or is that too big of a city for small-town Joe Toye?"

"Depends on how high the rent is." He leans his chin in his hands and drums his fingers against his cheeks. "I'll consider it."

It's the closest they ever get to the stay with me? they both know better than to ask.

Nona made Joe take her on routine visits to the auto shop for the first few days, but then Mr. O'Connery told them not to bother and that he'll call Joe's home phone when the coupe is ready to go. Still, they drive past the building sometimes on their way to the diner. The traffic light outside the shop is always green. Nona has decided it must be broken. Either that or she and Joe have impeccable timing. On the tenth day, the stoplight is red, and Joe puts his blinker on to make the U-turn. Now that she thinks about it, he's been antsy all morning. Is her car fixed? Now she's the antsy one as they pull into the parking lot. Mr. O'Connery is already on his way out of the garage, and why he looks a little grumpy, Nona couldn't say.

"Here we go," Joe mumbles as he climbs out of the pickup, and Nona doesn't get the chance to ask him what that's supposed to mean before the old mechanic is upon them.

"I know you like her," he says to Joe, thumbing at Nona, "but that coupe's been taking up space in my garage for the last ten days."

"I'm sorry," Nona says, reasonably shamed, "I had no idea the problem was that bad."

"That bad?" Mr. O'Connery blinks at her. "You needed a few engine parts replaced, but that only took me a few days." He points at Joe. "I called this fool nights ago and he said you'd be around to pick it up in the morning."

Nona gapes at him for a moment, then whirls on Joe, who looks incredibly guilty. When he sees how upset she is, he starts to harden, hiding his hurt behind a set jaw and a stern brow. That just makes her feel worse. He's never closed himself off to her before, and she's certainly not about to let him now. She marches right up to him and crosses her arms, bending her neck to try and catch his gaze. Those dark eyes of his that she's come to adore, that now look anywhere but at her, dart away, ashamed, and her heart twists into something ugly in her chest. She thought she could rely on him, her one friend in this lonely town. Evidently, she can't.

"Joe. Joe."

He finally forces himself to look at her, blinking hard, and she's not even sure what to say until he licks his lips and she looks at them, and her splintered heart cracks even further.

"What the hell?" She throws up her hands. "Seriously, Joe, what. The. Hell. What the fuck!"

"I'm sorry."

She scoffs. Just a few minutes ago, she would have believed anything he said. Not anymore.

"No, you're not."

Turning on her heel, she starts to march away, heading for her car and the open road, the only two things she knows she can trust right now.

"Nona."

She ignores him, and then he starts to come after her, and then he falls, and the sound of him hitting the pavement is ten times worse than her heartbreak. She goes to him at once and helps him off the ground, and when he looks at her, it’s the first time she’s ever seen him scared.

"I'm leaving now," she tells him, but then Mr. O'Connery clears his throat, and Nona gets the sinking feeling that she's going to be stuck here for a little longer.

"You can't take it yet," he says a bit awkwardly, tugging at the straps of his overalls. "I still have to tow it up to the gas station... I had to make sure you were actually coming to get it before I filled up the tank." He sucks on his upper teeth and tilts his head back to look at the grey-blue sky. "Come back in, say, an hour and she'll be good to go."

"Can't I just come with you?" Nona starts to ask, but then the pickup starts behind her and she remembers all of her things are back at Joe's place. "Shit. Nevermind."

"Hey-" Mr. O'Connery wags his finger at her, and she nearly slaps his hand down in a flash of ire. "-he didn't mean anything by it."

"How do you know?" she snaps, and he squints at her, meeting her bitterness head-on. She can see where Joe gets it from.

"I've seen the way that boy looks at you." He shakes his head soberly. "Don't you lose him to something like your pride."

She stalks away without responding, but she does call a weary thank you over her shoulder for having fixed what seemed to her a hopeless case of a car. She'll pay him as soon as she gets back, not just for the work but for the gas, too, but first, she's got to get her wallet—and all the rest of her belongings—from Joe's house.

They drive back in silence. Nona is huddled up against the car door. She can feel it when Joe looks over at her for more than a second, and she turns her head further away each time. When they get to the house, she jumps out of the pickup and hightails it inside, letting the screen door slam behind her. She thinks, cruelly, maybe if he can't get in, he won't be able to break her heart again. She's in the guest bedroom, throwing her belongings into her suitcase, when she starts to feel the anger fade. She slows her frenzy, then stops and looks around. There are still Easter decorations in here from last Spring, courtesy of Joe's mother. She tears her gaze away and nearly hiccups, feeling the shadow of her own mother's grief. On the desk, there are a dozen letters Nona has started and never finished, addressed to her brothers. She snatches them up and throws them in the wastebasket by the bed. Worst of all, there's a blue baseball cap sitting beside the lamp on the bedside table that she's worn so much, Joe has told her to take it with her when she leaves. Her hand hovers over it, but she can't bring herself to pick it up. She turns her palm up toward the ceiling and watches her fingers shake until a voice comes from the doorway.

"I told you you could take that hat."

Nona stuffs her hands into her pockets, then pauses, a little confused as to when she put her jacket on. It must have been while she was dashing about the room, running high on the red of anger.

"I don't want it."

"Really?" His voice breaks, and she wishes it hadn't, because there goes her heart, straining against her ribcage for her to go to him. "I thought you liked that hat."

Finally, she turns around, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. Joe comes a few feet into the room, then stops when she asks him:

"Why are you trying to keep me here?"

He looks like he might start shaking at any moment. She's afraid if he does, he'll blow away like a leaf in the wind, and then she'll really never see him again.

And despite it all, she really wants to see him again.

Which is why it hurts so much when he looks at the floor and shakes his head as if he can't give her an answer that won't hurt her.

"Joe, come on, just tell me."

"I shouldn't."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She pushes up off the wall and starts toward him. "I'm not stupid, Joe—and neither are you, so don't even start with that—and I know you've got a reason, and I think at this point, I deserve to know-"

She's started to raise her voice, and then he looks up and it all falls away. She can't speak. He licks his lips, takes a deep breath, and puts his shoulders back.

"Nona," he tells her, and she feels like she's watching his heart break in real-time, "I'm in love with you."

He's right, he shouldn't have said that. And then he says more, and Nona can only gape.

"I'm in love with you," he repeats miserably, "and I know that if I say goodbye, I'm never going to see you again."

"That's-" She waves her hands, but her feet are cemented to the floor by desperation, and she cries out. "That's so selfish, Joe! Don't you know that?!"

His face falls. When she abruptly starts toward him, almost falling as her feet are suddenly released from their anchors, he doesn't seem to realize she's got more to say. He winces, ducking his head again and retreating into his shoulders like a turtle who's lost his shell.

"I know. Fuck, I know. I just..."

He trails off when she arrives and cups his chin in her hands, lifting his head slightly so she can look him in the eye. Tears have gathered in his lashes, and now they begin to fall. He swallows thickly.

"I just couldn't help it."

Guilt at having caused his tears heats Nona's cheeks, but the pounding of her cracked heart echoes in her ears and tells her she can't back down now.

"Don't you know I'm selfish too?" she whispers, and before either of them can say another word, her lips are on his. She kisses him hard enough that he comes close to losing his balance, but he puts his trust in his crutch, and once he's steady again, he flings his arms around her—both his arms. His fingers flex with emotion as he clutches at her back and she feels the bittersweet knife of longing cut a jagged trail through her chest. She has to leave, she has to go to Boston, there is no changing that—it almost makes her break away. But Joe kisses her again and again and she cannot bring herself to step back. Even when they do part, they don't go far; she can still feel his shaky breath on her lips when he lets it out in a wanting sigh.

"Maybe you're selfish," she whispers at last, "but I'm worse."

"What? How?"

She gulps back the floundering excuses her fear wants to offer up and forces herself to tell him the honest truth, no matter how it burns her throat coming up.

"I'm kind of, well- I'm in love with you, too," she confesses, brushing a lock of hair off his eyebrow, and he stares at her like she's just told him there's an eighth wonder of the world and he'll be the first to see it.

"But..." He fumbles for the words. "But how is that worse?"

"Because I'm the one leaving."

She expects him to let her go—it is no less than she feels she deserves—but instead he pulls her back to him and wraps her in a hug. He pushes his face into the crook of her neck, brushes his lips there in a kiss, and holds her so tight there is no room for her fear to stand between them. Eventually, she relaxes, and he takes a deep breath before standing up straight. They do not separate entirely but stay in a sort of half-embrace, touching but not locked together as before. Joe leans in and kisses Nona on the forehead, reverent, and it is his tenderness that makes her finally start to cry.

"Oh, no, no," he pleads, brushing his thumbs gently across her cheeks. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Don't cry because of me."

"How could I not?" she chokes out. "I've just got you, and now I have to let you go."

He gets a funny look on his face, but there is a determination building beneath every stirring motion. He moves his hands to hold her face, his palms cool against the sudden heat in her cheeks, and Nona tries to force her trembling lip to still.

"Whoever said that?" he asks, and his voice is softer than usual, drawing over Nona like a warm wool blanket on a chilly morning just before dawn.

"I, um..." She shrugs, not quite helpless but not strong enough to make this decision on her own. "I don't know."

"Well, you can tell them they're wrong. Very wrong." He leans forward and rests his forehead against hers, watching her with a slight wariness as if he's afraid she'll start crying again. "The most wrong, even."

She giggles, just a little, but it is enough, and a smile cracks Joe's serious expression.

"There it is. Oh, that smile." He draws his thumb over her lower lip. "I'm gonna get a photo of that smile before you leave, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agrees against his lips, unsure who started leaning in first but not caring now that they've met in the middle.

"You promise?" he pulls back just slightly, though not without effort. "Promise you'll smile for me, sweetheart."

"I promise," she whispers, then goes back in for another kiss.

Forty-eight minutes later, once she's gone and paid Mr. O'Connery for his hard work, she drives the coupe right back to the house. Come hell or high water, she's going to keep that promise—and she does. When the sunlight comes out from behind the clouds and streams in the windows, it finds her sitting at Joe's kitchen table, looking just past the lens of his dented Kodak camera, and smiling because it's him she's looking at, it's Joe, her Joe. He takes the photo, waits a moment, then comes around the camera and kisses her.

"Call me when you get to Boston," he whispers, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. She's tempted to cut it off and give it to him right then and there.

Her suitcase is waiting by the door. She's already a week and a half behind schedule. She has no more excuses—and no more time—to delay.

Nona strokes her thumb across his jaw and studies his face. He leans into her touch.

"Joe?"

"Hmm?"

He's been looking at her lips. She's been looking at his.

"Think I could stay one more night?"

She leaves for Boston in the morning. Before she wakes up, he takes a photograph of her tangled up in his sheets, her hair splayed across the pillow like the streams of Mother Earth, her body a beautiful Appalachia beneath the covers. He tells her what he's done and she can see his relief when she smiles and tells him to get it developed.

"To remember me by."

Nudging a kiss against her shoulder where her shirt has slipped down, he tells her he could never forget her, and she believes him.

The summer flies, and though the heat persists, her life is happier with him in it. Her parents think she's crazy for driving back and forth to Hughestown every other weekend to see him, but hey, her roommate at Boston College thinks it's romantic. Secretly, Nona does too. Sometimes she meets Joe in the middle. At first, this means Hartford, Connecticut, but they quickly get sick of the dangerously wild traffic and relocate their meet-up spot to Poughkeepsie, New York. It's quieter there. Still, she prefers seeing him in Boston, where he seems happier, and Hughestown, where he seems happiest, so they brave the commute. On the day the war finally ends, she cries on the phone with him for three hours. He's not afraid to cry, too. Johnny Martin comes home from Austria (they were right, after all) and he and Joe meet up once or twice to catch up over drinks that Autumn. Nona is very happy for them and sends her love to the newly-pregnant Pat.

By the time Winter overtakes the East Coast, Nona has been to Hughestown dozens of times and ultimately decided the middle of bumfuck nowhere isn't so bad after all. She thinks she might like to grow old in a sleepy little town like this—but not for many years. For now, she'll take Boston with all its gritty glamor, or Columbus, where she returns for Thanksgiving and then Christmas. Joe comes with her for the latter, after which they drive overnight to see his family on the 26th. Nona isn't prepared for all the friendly attention she gets from his older siblings, and when Joe finds her crying outside on the porch in the snow, he takes her out to their old spot at the diner, gets her a milkshake, and just sits with her until she's okay again. He gets it. He always does.

Months and months go by, and as Winter melts into Spring, Nona starts getting antsy. She wants to be with Joe more often. She's smart enough not to forsake her studies for more time with him, but it's hard, and she misses him, and he knows it. Loving someone so far away is immensely difficult, but at the end of the day, she wouldn't trade him for the world.

He shows up in Boston right before Easter with his pickup packed with all his worldly possessions. There is still a little snow on the ground from the last blizzard. She watches him skirt it on his way to the door. He's wearing a tie. Why is he wearing a tie?

Nona nearly falls down the stairs twice as she flies to meet him on the stoop.

"I've come to stay," is how he greets her when she flings open the door. "Marry me?"

Nona has never fancied herself the marrying sort.

Then she sees the ring in Joe's hands and the tears in his eyes, and immediately, there is nothing more precious in the world than the thought of being his wife.

"Yes," she whispers against his cheek, clinging to him like they're the last two on earth. "Yes, Joe, of course, I'll marry you."

"Of course?"

She smashes her lips against his and he melts, smiling into her mouth as he finagles the ring onto her finger. When they part, they've both started to cry, and Nona laughs, cupping Joe's face in her hands.

"Of course."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[weirdsociology-writes]

Five Runs - Run 3: The Other Throne Room

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Title: Five Runs - Run 3: The Other Throne Room (3.2k)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

His voice isn't breaking so much as shutting down, his vocal cords unable to keep up as his words tumble over one another. You catch another fragment that contains you and something that might be did this but it's nothing as coherent as a sentence, and then he gives up all together and you're halfway launched into an open cabinet as he slams into you, wrapping his arms around you in a bruisingly tight hug that seems to surprise him at least as much as it does you.

Description: A series of drabbles all sharing one theme: you've decided to run away from your Mandalorian. On purpose. For his birthday. Listen, everyone's got their kinks, and his is bounty hunting (sort of. Mostly, it's you.)

Series: Part 3 of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, canon-typical violence, object insertion but probably not in the way you think, oral sex, manual sex, implied penetrative sex, brief mention of somnophilia, canon what canon, no betas we die like men [warnings are for all drabbles.]

Tropes: established relationship, the helmet comes off, hurt/comfort, fluff, adventure

Author's note: When I finished Easy Mark, I wanted to write something adventurous and fun next, something that lets these two show how much they really do enjoy each other's company. Each drabble is set during a different time in their relationship but it's all after the Mos Eisley incident mentioned in Distractions.

***

RUN 3: THE OTHER THRONE ROOM

The third time, he's impressed: “When I said run, I didn’t mean run to the nearest available warlord."

“Yeah, but I saw the puck Karga gave you. Seemed convenient. Easiest way to kill two banthas with one knife.”

Din's having this conversation with your knees as he looks up at you on your perch. The aforementioned warlord's throne had been a comfortable spot from which to watch your bounty hunter do what he did best, but the dais at your feet is now splattered with blood from the bodyguard that had been unwise enough to challenge him to single combat. The warlord himself is bound and gagged on the floor, cuffs clattering as he shifts impotently against the flagstones. No one had noticed you, the lowly installer tech, sneak in the back door and take the throne for yourself in the commotion.

"How in the hells did you even get in here? I lost a whole day figuring out how to get over that shield wall." He had, you'd watched him do it, secure in your position as the backwater outpost's newest employee. You'd been repairing a HoloNet hard line that stretched across the cluster of low rooftops surrounding the courtyard and therefore had an excellent vantage point as the gate guards flatly refused to let an armed Mandalorian into the keep. You'd even given him a cheerful wave when they weren't looking, nearly certain Din wouldn't start a massacre in a yard full of civilians just to get to you.

"That's because you showed up all hot and bothered and waving a blaster around. I came in looking for a job, and when they got a taste of my talents, well, they couldn't wait to hire me."

The helmet makes a spluttering noise. "Tell me you didn't-- what does that-- what did you do?"

You laugh. "Relax, Mando. You don't need to avenge my honor yet. All I did was flirt. And to be fair, I do know how to upgrade a HoloNet connection. The amount of channel competition on their mesh network was awful. I had to dig around in a lot of very dusty attics." You reach behind the base of the throne, feeling blindly for the sack you'd brought with you.

"Still sounds better than climbing over a--" Din starts, but his words are cut off as he catches the heavy canvas bag you fling at him, the hardened knuckle guard of his glove making a chiming sound against the contents even through the cloth.

"Open it," you command imperiously from your perch. Din does, giving a low whistle through the modulator. He pokes a fingertip inside, using it to rifle through the contents, and you can tell he's counting under his breath. You'd done the same when you'd found it, the pile of credits big enough to make your eyes widen and your brain briefly go to static.

"Where did you find this?" he says at last. "This is more than the last four jobs put together."

You can't contain yourself any longer. You come out of your seat, stepping off the raised dais and dropping down to stand next to him. "I know.” The giddiness you feel leaks into your voice. "That's enough for repairs and refit. That's enough for the rations the womp rat likes. That's enough for everything we need all at once and a new sleeping pad." You put a hand on Din’s vambrace, hoping he can sense your excitement. "And that's not all. There's something more. Something important."

"Nothing's more important than a pile of hard credits," Din retorts, but you can hear his smile. He nudges the still-struggling warlord with the toe of his boot. "We'll find a nice closet to stash him in on the way. Show me?"

***

You’d found the treasury room on one of your installation jobs, replacing old fiber optic in the interstitial spaces between the outpost's wooden ceilings and its hardened steel roof. You’d been following the cable when it took a sharp drop and terminated in a comms panel that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. Next to it was a nest of other, much newer electronics: a scomp link port backed up by a biometric authenticator; a localized security computer inset just beside the reinforced door frame; a series of seriously intense magnetic deadbolts. Every component was tied to an alarm system that had been state of the art in the Core ten years ago. Out here it had probably cost a small fortune.

The setup caught your attention immediately. Anything behind a security system like that had to be worth getting to. You ditched the rest of the day's work immediately, knowing no one would miss the tech with the sling full of tools they'd last seen crawling into a maintenance hatch. Most of the people in the building probably don’t even know this corridor exists, let alone the door that now beckoned to you enticingly from its cradle of locks.

It had taken you most of the day to get through. Scomp links were easy to clone if you had the right tools -  which you didn't -  or access to the original - which you also lacked. It was a slow and fiddly job, sliding the thin sheet of transparisteel you always carry in your kit between each of the scomp link receptor's teeth and waiting to hear the right kind of click. So many unsuccessful attempts would have certainly triggered the alarm if you hadn't shorted it first, wiring the sensor array into the old fiber optic line to keep the circuit closed before cutting the connection to the door. The security computer was off-network, a straightforward way to keep it out of reach of an override code from a central control room, but that also meant it couldn't do more than blink impotently at you as you tried to rekey the biometric scanner. And then tried again. And again.

By the time the magnetic locks let go with a final-sounding clunk, you were past tired and halfway to exhausted. "This had better be good," you said aloud to the empty corridor, and waved one hand in front of the sensor until the door hissed open.

It was better than good. It was like a dream, or maybe a fairytale. You'd heard stories about places like this one, local heavies on the Outer Rim who'd taken the fall of the Empire as a sign and converted all their wealth to metals and other materials for war or barter. You'd never believed they were true.

The room is small but tidy, crates and shelving units stacked one on top of another. Several of the lower drawers are partially open and you can see the glint of gold, the subdued shine of platinum. One shelf is occupied entirely with white-grey ingots of doonium, while another holds a small rack of crystals you can’t identify. You step inside, shutting the door behind you and feeling as though you've just walked into a tacky holonovel, and kneel to rifle through the crates. Your mind is racing through the possibilities. Two nights, plus travel time to reach the outpost. Throw in another few hours while you persuaded first the gate guards and then the warlord's administrative flunkies to take you in, and it’s been just under two and a half days. That means Din will find you in the next twelve hours - almost certainly sooner. You need a plan.

You start pulling open drawers methodically rather than randomly. Most of the cache is no good to you: no practical application for either you or your bounty hunter, useful only in quantities too heavy to carry or too rare to fence quietly. There are exceptions - you shove a small spool of something you think might be very thin cortosis wire in your bag, and in one well-thumbed drawer you find a sack full of credits that's worth more to you than anything else in the room. Credits spend without fuss and they can't be easily traced. That alone makes the time you spent slicing your way through the door worth it.

Two boxes left, the inert lockpads thick with dust. They're both small, shoved into a corner as though someone had kicked them there in a hurry to get to something else. You reach to inspect the first, easing up the lid, unsure of what it might contain.

You almost laugh when you realize what you're looking at. The small rectangular space is packed tight with flashing metal and precious stones, strung into delicate and decorative arrangements. Jewelry - as if the treasury room really is a pirate cave from a children's storybook. You balance the crate on one of the cabinets and card your fingers through it, letting the tangle catch and gleam in the dim light. It's an absurd thing to find on a planet like this one. Jewelry. As if a pretty necklace would mean anything when a renegade dropship blew through the shield generator.

You leave the jewelry scattered across the cabinet top in a tangled drift like a tidal pool and lean down to pick up the last crate. It's heavier than you anticipated and you wrestle it into an open space on the floor with a surprised oomph. Not just earrings in this one then. What could be that heavy but got pushed aside as though it were useless?

You flick open the latch. For a moment you don't recognize what you're looking at. It's just more metal, grey and dull, stamped with the Imperial cog this time instead of the emblem of the New Rep—

You slam the crate closed again, heart hammering in your ears, and frantically catalogue your options for jamming the treasury door behind you so no one else can get in. You have to find Din. You have to find Din.

***

Your Mandalorian unceremoniously dumps his bounty in a heap in the disused corridor, not bothering to find a closet. There's enough chaos throughout the building that the warlord’s shouts for help, muffled by the gag Din forced between his amateurishly sharpened teeth, are unlikely to attract attention. It takes you no time at all to get back through the treasury room’s security system, having already bypassed the scomp link and reprogrammed the biometric lock to open at the touch of your hand.

You push Din in ahead of you, narrowly avoiding slamming into his armored back as he takes two steps inside and then stops. "Maker. How did you find this?" His gaze is sweeping the room, assessing, completing the same inventory you had when you'd first realized what it contained.

"Running cable," you answer. "Doesn't matter." You'd stashed the little crate with its plain ingots in one of the cabinets, shoving it to the back to keep it safe in case anyone else came looking. It was unlikely that even the warlord's most trusted bureaucrats would be able to get through the door after you were done slicing the security system, but you couldn't risk it. You open the cabinet and push a box of what might be aurodium ore out of the way, finding the crate exactly where you left it. You lift it out with both hands and set it on the table next to the pile of jewelry.

There's probably a correct way to do what you're about to but you have no idea what it is. So: "Din," you say, to get his attention - you never use his real name in public, not even when you're alone - and the helmet whips around to stare at you in surprise. Then you unceremoniously pop the lid and shove the crate towards him.

Whatever reaction you'd expected, it wasn't this. Din goes absolutely still for a moment, every movement under the armor stopping at once like a droid having its power cut. You can't tell if he's examining the contents of the crate or you, and his lack of motion makes a tiny spark of fear shoot up your spine, some deep animal part of you recognizing the quiet focus of a predator.

The visor finally tips to look directly at you. "It’s beskar. Do you know what this means?"

"Uh-- not really," you respond lamely. His reaction has made you strangely unsure of yourself. "I know it's... important. I know it belongs with you." He hasn't moved any further and the twinge you'd felt is rapidly consolidating into a nervous twist in your gut.

"It's beskar," Din says again, and you open your mouth to shoot back something stupid like no kidding, but he's still talking. "Beskar that was stolen from Mandalorians. You found it and now you’re just giving it back.” He's accelerating now, as if it's vital that he tell you this information before something terrible happens. "Beskar is our future. This is enough to feed everyone in the covert-- every adult, every foundling--  for a year. Maybe more. You-- I--" His voice isn't breaking so much as shutting down, his vocal cords unable to keep up as his words tumble over one another. You catch another fragment that contains you and something that might be did this but it's nothing as coherent as a sentence, and then he gives up all together and you're halfway launched into an open cabinet as he slams into you, wrapping his arms around you in a bruisingly tight hug that seems to surprise him at least as much as it does you.

You yelp as your head misses the corner of a crate by a scant inch but Din doesn't seem to care, his vambraces digging into your ribs, his bandolier smashed against your breasts. It's an awkward embrace, maybe the most awkward thing you've ever seen him do, and somehow it’s the awkwardness that drives home how much his gratitude is horribly, crushingly sincere. You're not handling the moment any better: you can feel your cheeks burning with chagrin and your mouth is squashed into his shoulder, muffling your protests. "I didn't do anything," you’re compelled to say to the gap in his armor between breastplate and pauldron. "I was just curious. All I did was break in and it was here."

"Shut up," Din says savagely, and then just as abruptly lets go, pushing you away, tearing at his gloves. The second his hands are bare he reaches for you, running them over your jaw, your neck, the open collar of your tunic the same way another man might feverishly kiss you. Din's touched you enough that you can feel that this time is different, the warm roughness of his grip  conveying something new and meaningful that you can't quite decipher yet. It doesn't stop you from leaning into him, offering more of yourself, as his hands dip under your shirt and start to slide lower. 

Your shared moment of mutual embarrassment is dissolving into something urgent as Din drops to his knees in front of you. His intention is clear, but as much as you want this, want to explore whatever threshold you've just crossed, common sense dictates otherwise. "Mando… Mando. Din," you say again, trying to interrupt the reverent path of his hands unbuckling your belt. "We can't– we don't have time– we have to go." If you'd read the situation correctly, you have about an hour before word of what just happened spread outside the outpost. As soon as it does, a power vacuum too powerful to ignore will pull in every local thug who fancies themselves the next warlord, all of them gunning for a chance at the Mandalorian who'd deprived them of the last man to hold the throne. Din had won the contest with the bodyguard at least forty minutes ago. You need to be well on your way to hyperspace by now.

The uncomfortable press of the cabinets against your back lessens as Din does his own mental calculation and arrives at the same conclusion. "You're right," he grumbles, getting to his feet. By the time he stands you can tell he's back to his usual sardonic self, but whatever's changed between you is still simmering under the surface. He's holding something back, waiting for the right - or at least a safer - moment. "Sorry, mesh'la. I'll make it up to you later."

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" you tease, glad that his awkwardness has dissipated. "It's your birthday."

Din huffs indignantly. "That's right. It's my birthday. And I want to make it up to you later." He slaps your ass as you move toward the door, like a rancher herding a recalcitrant blurrg. "Get going," he commands, as if leaving wasn't your idea. "The sooner we get back the sooner I can show my appreciation."

The countdown timer on your wrist goes off as you're sprinting back to the spaceport, Din half-dragging, half-carrying his bounty and your legs unsteady with the added weight of the beskar. 

Both of you ignore it.

***

Your escape goes as smoothly as can be expected. Which is to say you make it to the ship alive and with cargo in tow, even if you’re both bloodied and sweating by the time you hit the loading dock. Your Mandalorian is unusually quiet once you reach the relative safety of open space. Less than talkative even after he puts the bounty in carbonite and then promptly hauls you off to his bunk to pleasure you in every way permitted to him by his Creed. You enjoy yourself anyway, his solemn attention to your body steadfast as you moan and quiver under him, although you miss the hot litany of filth from him that frequently accompanies such occasions.

He doesn't say anything beyond the strictly necessary until you're eating dinner together in the cargo bay -  or rather, you're eating and he's watching you eat, as has become your routine during meals. The beskar ingots are stacked on the makeshift table between you in tidy lines, as though Din can’t quite believe they’re real and needs to confirm for himself by handling them. You shift a little in your seat on the floor, curling your legs, bunching more of your loose tunic under yourself as a makeshift cushion. Certain parts of you were not just tired but outright sore by the time Din was done demonstrating his... appreciation. You hadn't had time to restock on supplies, so you raided the freeze-dried rations to put together something resembling a meal. You've just snagged another bite of reconstituted fungal protein when he picks up one of the ingots and turns it over.

"I wonder what clan this came from," Din says, partially to you and partially to the metal itself. "Whoever they were, they're probably all dead. You said you found it running cable?"

"Yeah. Happened to see the security system from the attic. I got lucky," you say around a mouthful of food. "The door was there and it looked interesting."

"You didn't just get lucky," he objects. His tone is still absent, as if thinking about something else. "I got lucky. I got very..." but the rest of the sentence trails off. You lift your head from your noodles to find the helmet pointed directly at you, as though he was waiting for you to look up.

"I got lucky. I am lucky," Din says, softly but firmly, and reaches across the beskar to take your hand in his.

THIS BLOG IS DEFUNCT DUE TO A GLITCH IN TUMBLR'S SYSTEM. PLEASE FOLLOW @weird-writes INSTEAD FOR UPDATES.

[xnchxntmxnt]

I posted 1,055 times in 2022

That's 173 more posts than 2021!

296 posts created (28%)

759 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@xnchxntmxnt

@kage7ama

@pixelwisp

I tagged 441 of my posts in 2022

#//ɪɴʙᴏx - 150 posts

#random bullshittery - 51 posts

#//ᴏʀɪɢɴᴀʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ - 46 posts

#jack — 🛸 - 32 posts

#//ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ - 25 posts

#anniversary event - 19 posts

#sk8 the infinity x reader - 15 posts

#sk8 - 15 posts

#sk8 x reader - 13 posts

#sk8 the infinity - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#i just read a fuckin fic that reader was supposed to be like. a lot shorter than sakusa. i know several girls who are at least 5’9 like

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How They Kiss (KnB ver.)

Fandom: Kuroko's Basketball

Character: Kise Ryouta, Kuroko Tetsuya, Kagami Taiga, Murasakibara Atsushi

Warnings: borderline suggestive but mostly fluffy bs. not proofread or edited at ALL. written at 1am excuse the grammar

Notes: gonna make another one of these w my boys but i gotta make the bestie (ew i hate that i said that like they are i just hate the word) & the no homo s/o happy first <33 @rqkuya thanks for the inspo on the kuroko one and @ruujiko come get ur man he's a giant teddy bear

gn!reader!

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sk8. ver || hq ver

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316 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

#4

5 Moments Kagami Taiga Realized How Much He Liked You, and the One He Finally Did Something About It

Fandom: Kuroko’s Basketball

Character: Kagami Taiga

Warnings: cursing, several food mentions, it’s assumed that reader isn’t a basketball player but knows a little, minor injury mentioned, plz dont listen to the fic ur not actually supposed to use hydrogen peroxide on cuts but i didnt know that till i googled it after i read this just use cool water to clean it,

Notes: wrote the ending when i was sick so its shitty however this is officially the longest fic I've written and posted on here. beat the last one by like 20 words or something. congrats to me

gn!reader!

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362 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

#3

hi, can i please request the sk8 boys reactions to a reader who can skate (doing tricks and all) wearing stilettos? take your time and take care!!

sk8 boys reacting to you skating in heels

Fandom: Sk8 The Infinity

Characters: Kaoru “Cherry Blossom” Sakurayashiki, Miya Chinen, Reki Kyan

Warnings: MIYAS IS PLATONIC ONLY. that was my biggest concern writing him. however the other two can be taken as platonic or romantic, dealer’s choice. reader’s age isn’t implied either so you could be a friend/older sibling/partner/whatever you like!

Notes: hi! so sk8 boys was vague so I did some favs + some people who deserve more recognition on my blog lol. i could do a pt 2 if anyone is interested?? It would be Langa & Joe and maybe shadow hmm

gn!reader

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365 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

#2

hihi!! i saw your event and i love the theme jdbsjs <33 also happy (early?) birthday to both you and koi!!

can i request a 4 star pull for genshin impact? the trope would be they forgot your birthday (hurt/comfort pls) ☺️☺️ with xiao, diluc, and gorou?

thank you so much!! if i didn’t request correctly pls feel free to dm me :,)

when they forget your birthday...

etc: established relationship, modern au![character] x gn!reader, gn pronouns used (they/them/mx.), food mentions (not descriptive), probably very ooc i'm sorry

notes: the favoritism is real in this one :,)

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398 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Detention

Fandom: Stranger Things

Character: Eddie Munson

Warnings: suggestive content, lots of kissing

Notes: before anyone gets too excited im not writng for everyone just this guy. feel free to send requests for him tho im in love with this bastard man <3 anyway what even is this help me /hj

gn (masc leaning) reader

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“(Y/N)...psst, hey, (Y/N).”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean you're the reason we’re stuck here in the first place! So no!” 

“Hey, ain’t my fault Holak’s a pain in everyone’s ass and doesn’t like it when I kiss my favorite person in the hallway.”

“We were not kissing you were making out with me under the stairs, Munson. And now I have detention and it's your fault.”

Eddie Munson, king freak of Hawkins High, dungeon master and ring leader of Hellfire Club, and worst of all your boyfriend flashed his incredibly irritating and adorable smile at you—you looked away to not fall for it, going back to your homework. 

He leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “you weren’t complaining about it before she found us, were you?”

You could just smack him. 

Instead, you decided to tune him out and continue your work. May as well do something productive here, right?

You didn’t look up when the teacher mentioned something about having a meeting to go to and expecting you to behave yourselves, nor did you look up when he left. You, unfortunately, looked up when Eddie took your pencil out of your hand and sat on the desk in front of you. 

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Come get it, sweetheart.”

There’s that cocky smirk you hate so much from him. 

You stood from your seat, as did he. He held the pencil above and behind his head, so you lunged forward for it. With a bit of laugh, he dropped the pencil and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tight. Your hand you reached for the pencil with landed on his shoulder in defeat. 

“You’re a prick,” you complained, although you made no effort to pull away. 

“Mhm, yeah, and you hate me so much. Shut up and kiss me already.”

He silenced anything else you planned on saying with a needy kiss. Almost immediately you melted, using your other hand to run through his hair. When you tugged gently, he groaned against your lips, pulling you tighter against him. Without a second thought, he walked you backward into a desk (luckily not the one you’d been sitting at) and you sat on top. His hands traveled down from your waist to your legs, guiding you to wrap them around his waist. 

You pulled away from him, putting a finger over his lips to stop him from following yours. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Ed. We’re screwed if he comes back in.”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining.” 

You groaned in frustration and laid your head against his shoulder. “Eddie Munson, you are such a pain in my ass.” 

“I could be if ya let me.”

“Ed!”

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813 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

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