#she has one eye and is really finicky but like that's ok

[artificial-ascension]

My cat refuses to eat anything other than cat food and tuna, so it has become a common thing that we always offer her morsels of our food to see if she likes it. So far the only things shes eats are:

Cat food

Tuna

Saltine crackers

The dust off chedder chex mix

Grass we bring her from outside

That's it. No meat, no cheese, no vegetables. She sniffs food but will hardly lick it.

What's wrong with this beast.

[badkitty3000]

Five and Lila are stuck in the Subway and since this is Lila's first apocalypse she has a major panic attack at the end of 6 years and Five calms her down, this is where she tries to come onto him but he firmly rejects her in a mixture of sweet, comforting, funny, asshole way.

I won't lie, my immediate reaction to this request was "NOOO", merely because I have been trying to avoid anything to do with this season and just generally pretending it doesn't exist. But then I started thinking about it and it was a really good idea. So, thank you, anon...you gave me some light at the end of the tunnel. Here is my take on this request as a nice little alternate scene instead of what we were given by the actual show.

You Made It Weird. Real Fucking Weird

2607 words, one-shot

Warnings: None. Zero Smut! Zero Romance!

“How long has it been now?”

“You just asked me that no more than two minutes ago.”

Lila lets out a long, dramatic whine and slides down the cement support beam of the subway station, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Two minutes? God, why does everything seem to take so long down here?”

There’s a pause and Five keeps quiet.

“So, how long now?”

“Jesus, Lila!” He sighs. “You really want to know?”

Lila nods sadly, her tangled hair hanging over her dirt-smudged face. “Yes.”

Five waits a beat because he knows she’s not going to like the answer. “If my calculations are correct, it’s been 6 years, 5 months, and 2 days.”

He watches as his partner in time-crime stares at him in disbelief. “But, that’s impossible. We can’t have been gone that long. I haven’t seen my own face in a while, but I can sure as bloody hell see yours and it’s still as smooth as a baby’s ass. That makes no sense!”

Five shrugs and looks guilty, although he’s not sure why. It’s not his fault time travel is so complicated. “Time travel is a finicky mistress. We just don’t seem to age on this train; I can’t explain it. There’s a lot of things I can’t explain, actually.”

Lila bangs her forehead against her knees a few times, making guttural groaning noises. When she looks up, it’s as if she has morphed into an entirely different person. She looks manic and scared, with her wide eyes and rapid breathing. She looks deranged. Five takes a small step back.

“Are you ok?” he asks dubiously.

Lila shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly. Then she scrambles up from the ground and starts yelling. “No, I’m not ok, Five! Of course I’m not ok! I’ve been away from my family for almost seven years!” Tears start welling up in her eyes. “My kids…I haven’t seen my kids in that long…oh my god…and Diego…” her voice trails off. After a second, her head whips in his direction again. “We need to go back, Five. I need to go back! Like right now!”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been trying to do? If I had a way back, I’d tell you, but I don’t.”

“No…no no no no…this cannot be happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. Five, my kids!” She stares at him with the most heartbreaking look on her face, the tears starting to quietly drip down her cheeks, leaving trails through the dirt smudges. Five’s demeanor starts to soften.

“Listen, I know this is terrible and I know you need your family. But the good news is, they don’t even know you’re gone. No time has passed for them.”

“How the hell do you know? You just said time travel was a judgy whore.”

“Finicky mistress, but sure, we can go with judgy whore. And I’m not sure on a lot of aspects of it, but that part I am sure of.”

That calms her a little bit and she takes a deep breath. “But…even if that were true and no time has passed for them, once we get back won’t that mean I’ll have aged by years in a matter of minutes? What if my kids don’t even recognize me? What if they’re scared of me because their mother is suddenly a haggard old witch with wrinkles and gray hair?”

Five shakes his head with a small smile. “Like I said, I don’t think we’re aging. I think it will be just fine.”

“You think?” She screams at him again. “Oh, well, that’s just great, Five! I’ll try not to worry that my entire life has been destroyed because you, the most self-centered asshole I have ever met, thinks it’ll be fine!”

“You know, if I recall, this was all your idea in the first place!” Five shoots back. “Because you were bored with your life and needed some adventure. So, who’s the self-centered asshole now?”

Lila stops and looks down at the ground. When she looks up, her face has changed again. It starts to crumble and she cries in earnest, her shoulders shaking with loud sobs. Five rolls his eyes and sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, and looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he concedes and closes the few steps between them.

“It’s going to be ok,” he says softly. “I promise. I’ll get you back home.”

When he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug, Lila collapses into him, her forehead pressed against his chest and her hands clutching onto the front of his wrinkled suit. She lets him take her full weight against him, eventually dragging them both down until they’re kneeling on the cold cement floor.

“Promise me,” Lila pleads in between sobs. “Promise me you’ll fix this.”

“I’ll fix it. I promise,” Five whispers as he rests his cheek on the top of her head.

They stay there for a few more minutes as Lila continues crying and Five rubs her back. Once she starts to settle down again, she sniffs loudly and Five can feel her body relax into his. He keeps holding her because he’s not quite sure when he should let go without seeming rude. In order to stave off the awkwardness that he feels is imminent, he clears his throat.

“You remember Dolores?”

There’s a pause. “You mean the mannequin you were shagging?”

Five grits his teeth. “Yes. That one.”

“What about her?”

“All those years it was just me and her. Forty-five years in my apocalypse and she was all I had. I loved her and she made me whole. We were a good team.”

Lila doesn’t say anything, but she adjusts herself and pulls away from Five. She shuffles back so that she’s leaning against the pillar again and Five joins her.

“I know how you feel, believe me. It’s horrible to be away from your family or the world you know. Not sure if you’ll ever make it back again, or if you’ll just die all alone with no one to grieve you. If I didn’t have Dolores…” Five swallows. “I don’t know what would have become of me. Humans just aren’t meant for solitary lives.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Five starts warily, “You aren’t alone. And neither am I this time. We have each other. And even if I could not imagine a more annoying person to be stranded in a matrix of shitty timelines with, I’m still glad you’re here with me.”

Lila looks over at him and sees he’s actually smiling. She wipes away the remaining tears that have slipped down to her chin. “You are?”

Five nods. “It’s true. We can do this, Lila. Because we’re not alone. Anything is possible when you have someone you can count on.”

As Lila studies Five’s face, something in hers switches. She leans in, slowly at first, and then lunges toward him, grabbing the lapels of his suitcoat and pulling him in for a kiss. Five quickly jerks his head back and leans as far away as possible, until his body is practically flat on the ground. Lila’s hands are still clutching at his coat and she leans over him as he sits up on his elbows.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m trying to kiss you, shithead. Now hold still.”

She leans in again, and Five risks a blink to get himself out of the situation as quickly as possible, leaving Lila falling forward onto the ground. He reappears a few feet away. The look on Lila’s face tells him she is not happy. And possibly insane.

“What is wrong with you?” Five barks. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

Lila stands up, brushing off her hands on her pant legs. “Apparently, I have! Because after your stupid, beautiful story, compounded with the fact that I haven’t touched a man in damn near seven years, you’re not looking so bad at the moment. And even if we do end up getting out of here, who knows how long that’s going to take. So, you’re all I have, as pathetic as that may be. Now, get over here so I can jump those puny little bones of yours.”

“Christ, Lila, get ahold of yourself!”

“What’s the matter? Scared that I’m a real woman?”

“No, actually there’s the small matter that you’re married to my brother. And you’re the mother of my nieces. And lest you forget, we have tried several times to kill one another in the past, so I’m thinking that may put a little damper on any romance between us. Shall I go on?”

Lila begins to look like she has a little more clarity again. “Right, that’s all true, isn’t it? You did once call me a sentient STD.”

Five gestures toward her and runs a hand through his hair in relief, letting out a loud exhale. “See? There you go!”

“Oh, god,” Lila starts, as she clutches her stomach. “I think I might be sick.”

“Alright, now you’re just being dramat—”

“No, no, really. I’m going to hurl,” she answers with a groan, doubling over and retching loudly.

Five crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Are you done?”

Lila spits a couple of times onto the ground and wipes her mouth with her coat sleeve. She nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Fabulous,” Five says dryly. Then he hands her a somewhat clean napkin he had stuffed in his pocket earlier. “Here.”

Lila takes the napkin and covers her mouth with it before looking guiltily at Five. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Five’s posture relaxes again. “It’s ok. You just went a little off the deep end. It’s understandable. People in stressful situations do some pretty weird things.”

“Shit…I made it weird, didn’t I?”

Five chuckles. “I’ll get over it.” He leans cooly up against the cement pillar, crossing his ankles. “Besides, I now have some pretty great leverage over you. Now that you tried to fuck me.”

Lila gags again. “An attempted kiss is not the same as me trying to fuck you!”

Five’s mouth presses into a thin line and he cocks his head to the side, eyebrows drawn together. “Yeah…you tried to fuck me.”

“Oh screw you, you little…”

“See? There you go again,” Five interrupts, shaking his head sadly. “It’s like you just can’t help yourself. I do understand the impulse, but really Lila…keep it in your pants, ok?”

Lila’s face evolves from shock and rage to reluctant amusement, and soon she is cracking up laughing. Five joins her until they are both wiping tears from their faces.

“Oh, holy shit, I need to be locked up in the asylum again,” she wheezes out as her laughter starts to die down.

“That is a possibility,” Five says.

“I’m really sorry, Five.”

“I know. Are you going to be ok?”

Lila nods. “Yeah, I think so.” She plops herself down on the edge of the subway platform, swinging her legs. Five comes and sits next to her. “Thank you,” she says.

“No problem. I’m sure I’ll have a nervous breakdown next and you can talk me down from the ledge.”

“I really miss them, you know,” Lila says quietly. “I hope they don’t forget me.”

Five reaches over and snaps the elastic on the beaded bracelet that hasn’t left Lila’s wrist in 13-some years. “Don’t worry, they won’t. Diego loves you; he’d wait a thousand years for you. And you’re a good mom. Your kids know that.”

Another tear slips down her cheek. “Thanks, Five.”

There is a moment of silence, then Five looks over at her. “Now is the time you say something nice about me.”

Lila smiles and bumps him with her shoulder. “You aren’t so bad to have as an end-of-the-world partner.”

“Thank you.”

“You smell nice, too.”

“I smell nice?”

“Yeah. Even when we haven’t found a water source to wash off with for weeks, you never stink. I don’t know how you do it.”

Five laughs. “That may be the nicest compliment I have ever gotten, believe it or not.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lila leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “God, I fucking hate this place.”

“Me, too.”

As if on cue, the loud whooshing noise of an incoming train can be heard approaching, and they blink against the bright headlamps that tear through the darkness.

“Well, here we go again,” Lila says as she takes Five’s hand and lets him pull her up to standing.

“Maybe this will be the last one,” he says with a shrug.

She grins at him. “Yeah, maybe it will be.”

As the doors open, Five gestures for her to go first. “I don’t want you checking out my ass,” he explains.

Lila snorts. “I can’t even if I wanted to, the damn thing’s so flat. Like a smashed hamburger.”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

As the two of them stand on the porch of Lila’s house, she rings her hands nervously.

“You’re sure it’s only been a short amount of time for them?”

Five nods. “I’m sure.”

“And you’re sure I don’t look like I’m a hundred years old?”

“You inexplicably look just like you did when you left. I don’t even know how we got our old clothes back, but like I said, time travel is—”

“A whiny bitch,” she finishes for him.

Five sighs. “Right. Ok, are you ready?”

Lila nods. “Yep, ready.” She reaches for the door and then pulls her hand away. She turns to Five and shoves a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare say anything about what happened.”

Five smiles cruelly. “You mean when you tried to force me into having sexual relations with you? Oh, no I wouldn’t dare. Unless I have to, obviously. I don’t want to have to lie to my own brother, after all.”

“Damn it! Fine, you little shit stick. I will pay for one whole year’s worth of dry cleaning for your crappy little suits. Deal?”

“No deal. You called my suits crappy.”

“Ugh!” Lila throws her hands in the air and looks at the door nervously. “A year’s worth of dry cleaning and I’ll finally introduce you to that cute, single teacher at Grace’s school that you’ve been eye-fucking for the last year.”

Five thinks it over. “Deal.” He sticks out his hand to shake hers with a lopsided grin.

“Thanks again for everything. It’s been…interesting. But I’m glad I had you there with me,” she says with a smile.

“I’m glad you were there, too. We make a good team.”

As they step inside the house, Lila sees immediately that Five had been right. No one has aged. Nothing has changed. Her entire family is right where she had left them and she bursts into tears. Diego comes up, carrying one of the twins and gives her a quick kiss.

“Are you crying? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Lila smiles through her tears. She reaches up and loops her arms around her husband’s neck, giving him a long and passionate kiss. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

As Diego stands there looking like a big dopey man in love, Five pipes up from behind.

“Hey Diego, good to see you again. Did you know your wife here tried to fuck m—”

Lila’s hand shoots out and without even looking, her fist rams right into Five’s crotch. As he gasps and wheezes, doubling over in pain, she smiles her wicked smile.

“Don’t mind him. Now what delicious thing did you make for dinner, darling? It smells amazing!”

[sirianasims]

A few days later I made my way to GeekCon, feeling excited.

For one weekend every summer, the famous Casbah Gallery was completely transformed and filled with cosplayers, merch stalls, and a plethora of geeks.

I had never been able to attend in person, Copperdale was too far away, and the online pass just wasn’t the same.

The gallery shop, normally selling tickets and art prints, was now filled with comics and collectibles, snacks and toys. It was honestly a little overwhelming.

I decided to start from the beginning and looked at the MySims display. I had quite a few already, but I really wanted Violet. She was a little expensive though.

I went through my budget in my head and decided that she would be my reward when I hit 50,000 subscribers. Then I moved on to the Voidcritters.

Everyone knew Voidcritters, but it always felt a bit too much like a children’s game for me. Still, I did occasionally stream myself playing video games, and it might be nice to throw in something more casual – although few Voidcritter fans had anything resembling a casual relationship with the game.

Either way, it could get me some new viewers.

My train of thought was derailed by a guy next to me clearing his throat.

“Hi… uh, are you Jules? From DesignedByJules?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I knew I recognised you! Sorry, I’m Marten, I’ve followed you for years -“

He stopped abruptly.

“OK, it sounds super creepy when I say it like that, but I do follow your channel. Do you play Voidcritters? I’ve never seen it on your streams.”

“I’m considering it.”

His eyes lit up.

“Who are you gonna main? Please don’t say Vulpes, newbies always pick Vulpes just because it’s one of the main characters.”

“Actually, I…”

“You should go for the Earth types, everyone thinks Void is special but Earth is actually stronger if you know what you’re doing.”

“Actually, I was considering Wind. I kinda like Meduso.”

Marten wrinkled his nose.

“Wind is kinda finicky though. If you’re starting with a Common critter, you should try Nymphaea.”

He gestured to one of the decals on the wall.

“If Nymphaeas are in danger, they produce these fungal spores that invade animal hosts so they can propagate the species in a safer environment. In episode 19 there was a bunch of Nymphaea that took over a flower shop and started reproducing like crazy and Leif had to free his friends from their hypnotising pollen and relocate them to a remote nature preserve – the Nymphaea, that is, not his friends.”

“I see.”

I started moving through the shop and Marten followed, still talking at breakneck speeds as if determined to impress me. It was actually a little adorable.

“And you know how Vulpes is based on a fox and Suintor is a pig and such? Some of the fans actually believe that Nymphaeas are based on a real thing.”

“Except water lilies usually don’t have hypnotising pollen.”

“No, but what if something did? I saw this discussion on one of the fan forums once where someone claimed to have heard that there was a rare flower on Sixam that did something like that.”

“It sounds a little farfetched to me. I mean, most super powers are just made up, right?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I guess we’ll never know where they got the idea from, none of the original creators of the show are still alive and there has been no communication with Sixam for decades. Maybe Sixam was never even real. They could have faked it all.”

I thought of the old pictures of a little blue boy in grandpa Eric’s house.

“No, Sixam is definitely real. My great-grandma went there.”

Marten didn’t seem convinced but dropped the subject. 

beginning / previous / next

[butmakeitgayblog]

I have a question about Lexa's wings but I swear is not a cursed one. 😂

So, Lexa is not technically a fallen angel, she was casted out (if I remember correctly) and because of that, she managed to keep her wings.

I assumed they were angel wings, so white? But because she tried to cut and burn them, they are black now with a little bit of grey near her shoulder blades.

My question is: if Lexa tries to cut her wings now, after she burned them with Hell fire, do the wings grow back white or black? Are they damned forever or because Lexa is still technically part angel and she feels Heaven, she still has angel wings? 🤔

Ok so, she was cast out of heaven because of her supposed 'indecision' and that's why she was made to keep her wings. They are part of her punishment and what singles her out from everyone else. Lucifer and their brethren in hell try to mimic their wings with bones and flesh from the dead, but Lexa's the only fallen angel who was expelled who still has her legitimate wings because they are, in essence, her crown of thorns.

The hellfire itself is what turned them black and why they have the specific scent that they do. Before they smelled more very floral and light sweet perfume, whereas now they have that underlying smell mixed with singe of hellfire that gives them that intoxicating smokey incense scent that Clarke is always talking about. The reason why the smaller feathers closer to her shoulders are more grey is because they didn't touch as much of the fire 😔

All that being said, the reason they turned black instead of burning to a crisp is because the damn things are indestructible. They are the same wings she fell with and will be the same wings she has until existence ends. They do not die. They cannot be cut off. They cannot be burned off. Anything she does, they heal instantaneously. For example, when she tried her hand at cutting them off with a chainsaw once it was invented, all it did was tear and chew at the skin, bone, and cartilage that healed itself before she could get deeper than a flesh wound. And that's not even mentioning how the physical pain she feels every time she has tried to get rid of them is unbelievable. Un-believ-able. Take the most painful injury you've ever felt, times that by a thousand. While the rest of her body can take violence like a champ, the wings really are sensitive (don't. Don't. stfu istg you know who you are 😤😒). Like she mentions the first time they go back to her place and she asks if she can let her wings out, they even ache when they're hidden for too long, that's how finicky these fuckers are. They are beautiful and part of what makes Lexa so intrinsically wonderful in Clarke's eyes, but they very much are always a curse on her existence, just as they were meant to be

[thecourtjester12]

Hello, friend!! Can I call you that? I'm not sure... I'm so sorry I didn't send an ask sooner! How have you been? I hope you've been well! Make sure you've been getting plenty of rest and water, and please do take breaks if you need them! I'm sure your event has been stressful to manage, and I've heard you had a lot of alt blogs on top of that! That's quite the juggle!

Please do fill me in on what's been going on since my last asks to you, my birds only tell me so much. No pressure, of course, but I feel as though you deserve to at least reflect on your accomplishments! Doesn't everyone need a confidence boost like that?

~🌻 Sunflower Anon, who has missed you dearly!

Sorry it's taken me a few days to answer you! I wasn't ignoring you or anything, just wasn't too up to answering and wanted to answer you properly! Always nice to see you too!

Hello! And sure! I'm perfectly ok with you calling me friend if you'd like! ^-^

And no worries about taking a bit to send another ask, send them whenever you want to and are feeling up to, don't feel bad if its awhile in between!

I have been ok, sometimes stuff can get too much so I try to step back for a bit and go with the flow a bit and focus on being ok again :3 The same goes back at you! Make sure to get enough rest and drink water and take care of yourself as well! ^-^

The event hasn't been too bad to manage, I most do things in the background, occasionally pull some strings and keep things organized as much as I can, which works great, I much prefer to work behind the scenes (While I am not opposed to spotlight, theres simply something nice about keeping all the lil details of something organized :3)

I certainly have a good few (not as many as SOMEONE I know, yes, I mean you Moonlight, they keep growing) But most of them don't get as much virtual traffic to them so I mostly do things on two 70% of the time which are this one and my main side one jestersdlc

Two other's are ask blogs, and those don't get asks too frequently so they mostly just chill there :3

And the last (known) one is a group one and that one is pretty slow on us all to update it, so it's not toooo bad :3 I can't remember exactly when your last ask was...(time wise I mean >_<) So I'll try my best! Not sure there's much to say tho :3

Idk if PDC was made before or after...but me and a pair of friends (whom you may know, Qwill and Sol) made an au blog called playdatecollectorau where we kinda shove a bunch of our au's together so we can have our beans have 'playdates' theres LORE of course, cause lore is awesome

Mostly just intro stuff on there atm but it's fun to have and plan

I have accumulated....more AU's, there is...so many for DCA au's there is....10 and a half (the half is PDC) (JDCAU, J-TOL, LOTC, MIW, LSAU, REDACTED, NBCau, ESSau, CTAMK and secret) along with a few TSAM's ones which there is...less of 3 and a half (Starboy, CuddleBug, SolarMoon and Dream Eater (which is the half cause its...all encompassing lets say)

And just recently got the SolarAndMoon blog up and running which is nice, they look real squishy

I have a couple little projects on the go or completed as well, a few oneshots have been posted (mostly on my side blog...) and am currently working on a mini series for Aromantic awareness week!

Certain characters are being...uncooperative...but I shall figure something out! (...moreso idk much on certain beans yet so its making it finicky to write them >_<)

and IT IS ARO WEEK NOW! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

So that is exciting, excuse to wear green (one of my favorite colors) and spread awareness for aromanticism! Its great :3

AND new pronouns! Idk if you popped in last before or after that but that was a funky thing, I now use she/they and ey/em/eir so thats fun! ^-^

And I have a few lil secret projects of course :3

I think that sums everything up.....sorry for the really long response! Hopefully you don't mind >_<

I'm in ramble mode rn from rambling to my friend about certain beans being disaster bi's and a disaster lesbian and silly shenanigans for certain au's

How have you been doing? If you're comfy sharing of course, feel free to ramble in turn if you'd like! No pressure tho! ^-^

But remember you deserve a nice confidence booster too :3

[hearts-hunger]

suum ca’nara (rest and peace) || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Summary: You and Din take your baby on a picnic, and rest and peace come more easily with the sun on your face and your husband by your side. || Standalone fic in the Jate’kara (Lucky Stars) series

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff | Word Count: 4.6k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So this is quite possibly the fluffiest, sweetest thing I’ve ever written. I’m proud of how it turned out, and I hope y’all like it! (Also, this gif is what I imagine Din looking like in this fic - *swoon*, am I right?) (Also also, if you’re interested, the poem I use in this isn’t mine - god, I wish - but it’s called “Do you still remember: falling stars” by Rainer Maria Rilke) ♡

“Ad’ika, I think mama is going to be madder than a razor cat once she sees the mess we’ve made of her kitchen.”

You smiled to yourself at the tone of your husband’s voice, amusement and exasperation coloring it in equal measure. You hadn’t seen the state of the kitchen yet; you were supposed to be sleeping in, but the sounds of laughter and happy baby coos had drawn you from the bunk to see what your husband and toddler were getting up to so early. You guessed they were making breakfast, if Din’s steady, one-sided dialogue was any indication.

“I can never remember how much honey to put in,” he said. “Your ba’buir used to make uj’alayi when I was little, and he never measured anything. Just threw it in the bowl.”

You pictured little Din in the kitchen with his father, hands sticky-sweet as he learned how to make the traditional Mandalorian cake. You imagined your little one was watching Din with the same reverent attention Din had watched his father with, and felt your heart swell with love for your little family.

“That’s probably good enough,” Din said. “Now we need the nuts.”

Your heard your baby give a questioning coo.

“Yeah, those,” Din said. “Hold on, the bag might be a little too - ”

Thunk. The unmistakable sound of Koja nuts rolling across the floor had you bringing your hand up to stifle a laugh. Poor Din.

“That’s ok, buddy,” he said, his voice sweet and patient as he spoke to your most likely distraught baby. Your little one loved to try and help Din whenever he could - whether Din was polishing his armor, tinkering with the Crest’s control panel, or clearing his weapons, your baby could be counted on to be there to “help”. Most of the time, his help consisted of a steady stream of chatter and attempts to do whatever Din was doing, and Din tried to find little ways for him to contribute. That your baby had been trying to help his dad make breakfast and had spilled the nuts everywhere was sure to be upsetting for him.

His little coo of apology was absolutely heartbreaking, and you knew Din would be gentle with him.

“You didn’t mean to,” Din said kindly. “It’s ok. Do you want to help me get these up so we can finish the cake?”

You backed up from the kitchen door while they cleaned up, wanting to stay hidden a little longer. Din loved being a dad, and it came to him so naturally; you cherished the moments you got to enjoy watching or listening to him interact with your son when it was just the two of them.

Your baby started babbling animatedly about something, and Din responded with “oh” and “hmm” at appropriate times, encouraging him to speak and letting him know he was listened to. They finished up the batter and put the cake on to cook, the nanowave oven crackling slightly as it heated up. It was an old model, like everything else on the Crest, and you’d become so accustomed to its finicky nature that it was more familiar than frustrating.

“Osi'kyr,” Din said, dismal. “Your mama needs a new nanowave, huh?”

Your baby chirped his agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll have to see about getting her one,” Din said. “Maybe Peli knows somebody we can ask. But for right now, we have to get this place cleaned up before mama sees.”

“Before mama sees what?”

You came out of your hiding place around the corner and were met with two guilty smiles, both Din and your baby looking like you’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Your little one was sitting up on the counter, an uncracked Koja nut in hand, his ears perking up at the sight of you. Din was covered in flour - little baby-sized handprints covered his black shirt and trousers, and streaks of white appeared in his sleep-mussed curls. The kitchen was a mess, like he’d said, but it was worth it to see the two of them so happy.

“Hi, cyare,” Din said, his smile a little sheepish.

Your baby added his own coo of greeting, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning to you too,” you said. You gave your son a kiss on the top of his head. “What are you and daddy making?”

He waved the Koja nut in his claws for you to see. 

“Uj’alayi,” Din clarified.

You smiled. “Cake for breakfast, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, it’s got fruit in it. It’s healthy.”

He leaned close and kissed you, sweet with the taste of honey and ginger from the batter he’d tested before it went in the oven. He held his flour-dusted hands to the side of you so as not to get you messy too.

“Good morning, Mrs. Djarin,” he said sweetly, bumping your noses together.

You beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Djarin.” You gave him another quick kiss. “Do you want some help getting the kitchen cleaned back up?”

He looked a little distressed as he pulled back. “No, I mean - you don’t have to help. You didn’t make the mess.”

You gave an affectionate shake of your head. “Din. I don’t mind.”

He softened. “Well, if you’re offering. It’s very sweet of you, cyare. Sorry it’s such a disaster.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said, waving him off. “Most of the flour ended up on you and not on the counters, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we had a hard time getting it in the bowl.” He took a cloth and began wiping down the counters, scooping your baby up while he did.

“But we’re ramikadyc mandos,” he continued. “Determined, tenacious. Not to be bested by cake batter.”

Your baby chimed in to agree with his dad. You laughed as you filled the sink with hot water.

“How did I get the two bravest Mandalorians in the galaxy on my ship?” you teased.

Din considered that. “I think you’ve just got good jate’kara, my love.”

You gave a pleased hum as he kissed you. “My stars are pretty lucky, aren’t they?”

He smiled. “Not as lucky as mine, cyare.”

When the kitchen was back in order, Din excused himself to take a shower while the cake finished baking. You got your little one dressed for the day in a soft, hand-stitched blue tunic Omera had made for him and tidied the bunk before heading back to the kitchen as the timer went off.

“Quiet a view, cyar’ika.”

You blushed at the teasing warmth of your husband’s voice as you took the pan from the oven and straightened, setting it to cool out of your baby’s reach. You turned and saw Din had changed into a soft white shirt and brown pants, his suspenders resting against his hips, his hair dark and curly from his shower.

“I’ve got quite a view, too,” you said, a little bashful as he smiled and crossed to you. You only had a moment to admire the endearing crinkles by his eyes before he kissed you, all tenderness and affection.

Your little one cooed and you both looked down to see him standing on the top of Din’s boot, tugging on his pants leg and giving uppy arms. Din chuckled and scooped him up, cradling him with one arm and drawing you close with the other.

“Let’s go somewhere fun today,” he said. “This system has some beautiful planets. We can have a picnic or something.”

You smiled. “Okay,” you agreed. You were a little surprised, as Din wasn’t usually very spontaneous, but the idea of a day spent just spending time with him and your baby sounded lovely. “Where should we go?”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ll go look and see what we’re closest to.”

He took the baby up to the cockpit with him to scan the nearby planets, giving you a few minutes for your own shower. You took two slices of uj’alayi when you went to join them; you gave one to Din, and he broke off little pieces to share with the baby.

“I think we decided on a planet,” Din said, indicating the display on the instrument panel.

“Baraan-Fa,” you read. “It’s forested, low population... is it safe?”

He shrugged. “Should be, with the place we’re landing. Most of the population density is around the town and the old Rebel base, so we shouldn’t run into anybody.”

You took your seat, happily taking your baby when Din handed him over to you so he could set your course. You were amused to see that your little one had succeeded in charming Din into giving him the silver handle off the gear shift, and he held it up for you to see.

“Your daddy must love you,” you cooed to him.

Din glanced back at you, his expression bemused before he saw what you were talking about. His smile was a little exasperated.

“Maybe we should get him some actual toys.”

You laughed. “He wouldn’t play with them even if we did, honey. He wants to be like you.”

“Yeah.” Din’s expression was soft with affection, and you knew he didn’t really mind that his son had chosen a part of the ship for his plaything. He turned back to focus on bringing the Crest into Baraan-Fa’s atmosphere, and you and your baby looked out the windows in pleasantly surprised wonder at the beauty of the planet. Every inch of it was green, hilly grasslands with blue rivers snaking through the forests. Din expertly landed in a small clearing in the middle of a wooded area, settling the Crest into a glade dappled with sunlight.

No sooner had the ship landed than you were out of your seat and downstairs, impatiently waiting for the ramp to lower as the welcoming breeze flooded into the Crest’s hull. You set your baby down on the soft grass and let him explore a little, tilting your head back to feel the sun on your face, breathing deeply of the clean air.

“You like it?” Din asked. You opened your eyes to see him leaned against the door frame, watching you with a gentle smile. You would have beamed back at him and told him how much you loved it had it not been for the sudden concern you felt at his appearance.

“You’re not wearing your armor,” you said. Checking briefly to make sure the baby hadn’t wandered too far, you stepped up the ramp towards your husband and made to steer him back inside the Crest’s relative privacy.

“Din - ” you protested when he gave a soft laugh and captured your wrists in a gentle grip, just as you had put your hands on his chest to push him back inside. “What if someone sees?”

He held both of your hands close to his heart. “There’s nobody here, cyare. I checked. It’s sweet of you to worry, but you don’t have to.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “You’re going to be out here without a helmet?” That sounded awfully reckless to you.

“I want to be able to kiss you,” he said, giving you a chaste kiss to illustrate his point. “And I want to swim in the river and feel the sun on my face. Can’t do all that with beskar on, now can I?”

You sighed. “No, but...” You met his eyes. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

He softened. “Sure it does,” he admitted. “A little. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been out of the Crest without armor on. But that’s exactly why I want to. And if there’s no danger of anyone seeing me... I think it’ll be alright.”

He tapped the bracelet on your wrist, a modified version of his vambrace with the same remote controls of the Crest programmed in. “Besides, I told the Crest to alert us if there’s anyone nearby. It’ll be alright.”

You reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Well, it would be nice to see your face,” you said. “If you’re sure about it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “I’m sure, cyar’ika. Come on, let’s go get our son before he wanders right into the river.”

You looped your arm through his, feeling like one of the promenading couples you always saw growing up on Naboo. He was a bit scruffier and dressed more casually than any young man on Naboo would be, but you liked him that way. 

As he led you on a leisurely stroll towards the river, minding your little one closely, you took the opportunity to enjoy being outside with him and being able to see his every expression. Din was nothing if not expressive, especially in his brow, and his face was alight with a happiness and peace that made his handsome features all the more alluring.

“Is there a word in Mando’a for ‘very handsome’?” you asked.

He looked over at you with a touch of confusion, either playing coy or just being genuinely oblivious. You suspected the latter, and it was endearing to you.

“No,” he said. “But there’s ‘very beautiful’ - ori mesh’la - and it means the same thing.”

You smiled. “Well then, Din, I think you’re ori mesh’la.”

His cheeks pinked. “Well, thank you, cyare,” he said, endearingly bashful. He smiled. “I think you’re ori mesh’la, too.”

You could have watched his face forever, charmed by his blush and the way his curls looked in the sun, but your baby gave an excited babble and drew you attention. Just in time, too, as he was barrelling full-speed towards the river without a care in the world.

“Oh, ad’ika,” you chided, unwinding yourself from Din and scooping your baby up before he reached the water. His ears drooped as you held him.

 “I know you want to go in, my love,” you cooed. “But you have to be careful.”

You saw why he’d been so eager to get in the water - the riverbed was covered in bright, colorful stones, glinting where they caught the sun through the water. You knelt on the bank and held your baby in your lap, reaching into the pleasantly cool water to scoop up a handful of the stones.

“Look how pretty,” you said, drawing them close so he could take a few. He grabbed the biggest one and turned it over in his claws, mesmerized by the opalescent shimmer.

“Batu,” he said, holding it up for you to see. You smiled. You and Din hadn’t quite figured out what “batu” meant, but it seemed to signal his approval, and you were always pleased to hear it.

“I see,” you said, charmed by his enthusiasm. “Show daddy.”

You stood and turned to face Din, who was watching the two of you with a gentle smile on his face. His brow quirked in excitement when he saw his baby holding the stone out to him.

“Look at that, ad’ika,” he said, coming close to examine it.

“Batu,” your baby said again. Din grinned.

“Yeah, ‘batu’,” he repeated. “You want to go find some more?”

At your little one’s happy coo, you and Din kicked off your shoes to wade into the shallow river. Din rolled the hem of his trousers as well as yours, since your hands were full with the baby, and pressed a kiss to your thigh before he rose.

The water lapped just above your ankles with the gentle current, and you spent a few minutes looking through the clear water to find the stones you thought were prettiest. Your baby wriggled to be put down, but the water was a little too deep for him, and you settled on drawing up handfuls of rocks for him to sort through.

“Hey, cyare, look at this one.”

You turned to see the stone your husband had found and were met with a splash of water.

“Din!” you squeaked, a smile crossing your face. Your baby giggled with delight at having been splashed, and the sound mixed with Din’s warm laughter.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You bent down and splashed him back, getting him more thoroughly than he’d gotten you; he laughed and sputtered as he wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt.

“That was so much worse than mine,” he said. “You’re awful.”

“Good thing you like me so much,” you said cooly.

He grinned. “Yeah, lucky you.” He kissed you and brushed the water from your face. You’d grown accustomed to the feel of his leather gloves, but you’d always prefer the gentleness of his hands, rough from years of hard work but always touching you in love. 

Pressed between the two of you and impatient to get in the water, your baby patted Din’s chest and babbled up at him.

“Come on, buddy,” Din said, taking him from your arms. “You want to swim a little bit?”

“You’re swimming in your clothes?” you asked.

He gave you a wry smile. “Why not? I’m already half-soaked.”

Your smile was slightly guilty. “I'm sorry about that, actually,” you said. “I didn’t mean to splash you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’m not upset. Besides, it’s warm enough that it won’t take very long to dry off.” He nodded towards the bank where a flat rock jutted out over the water. “I was just going to sit over there and let him play where it’s shallow.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, in that case, I’ll sit with you.”

You played with them for a long while, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Din while he held your baby’s hands and let him splash around in the shallow water. Despite his excitement, your baby was a little hesitant once he was actually in the water, and held tightly to Din’s fingers. As his fear eased and his confidence grew, he was happy to stay within his dad’s reach and only occasionally grabbed onto Din’s trouser leg when he lost his balance. His outfit was thoroughly soaked within minutes of his delighted splashing, but he didn’t seem to mind; he played happily and kept handing rocks to you, and you cooed over every one. 

You might have stayed with them and watched your little one play for hours on end if it hadn’t been for Din’s stomach starting to growl; you realized you were hungry too and playfully nudged your shoulder against his.

“Should I go get us some lunch?” you asked.

His smile was a little sheepish. “If you wouldn't mind,” he said. “I can get it, if you don’t want to.”

You ran a hand over his back. “I don’t mind,” you assured him. “What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever,” he said. “You know me.”

“So, just a whole ori'skraan, then?” you teased. Mandalorians always had big elaborate feasts at their celebrations to make up for the fact that they ate rations more often than not, since they were easier while on a hunt; you’d had the pleasure of attending a few during your marriage, including the one at your wedding.

Your husband grinned. “That’ll be just fine, cyare.”

You kissed his cheek before you stood, waving goodbye to your baby. You heard Din console your little one as you left towards the ship, explaining that you’d be right back.

You found the length of fabric you used for a baby sling and tied it around you like Din had shown you; Mandalorians carried their babies in a birikaad, to keep their hands free for fighting, and this was nearly identical to that style. You filled the sling with food from your pantry, wrapping up a few slices of the uj’alayi cake for dessert, and folded up one of the spare blankets to picnic on.

You heard Din singing as you walked back to the river. You almost didn’t realize it was him, at first - he was usually so shy about his singing voice, and he reserved it for lullabies when your baby was very fussy or drinking songs when he was deep in his cups with friends. He sang to you, occasionally, when you asked him to, and he was always endearingly bashful.

His voice carried over the clearing, mixing with the sound of the river and your baby’s happy laughter, and you drank it in the closer you got to him. It was a beautiful song, full of longing; Din’s warm baritone made it rich and lovely. The lyrics were in Mando’a, and you were too caught up in the sound of your husband’s voice to translate; you let his voice wash over you, warming you from head to toe.

You didn’t know how long he would have kept singing if your baby hadn’t caught sight of you, giving a happy coo of welcome. Din’s voice cut short as he turned, perhaps fearing you were someone else, but his expression softened into a smile as soon as he saw you.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled. “Hi.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stop singing on my account.”

He blushed. “No, I’d been singing that one over and over. I’m sure ad’ika’s tired of hearing it.”

You knew that wasn’t true; your little one calmed faster to Din’s voice than he did to anything else. You didn’t want to embarrass him, though, and carded a hand through your husband’s sun-warmed curls.

“You two hungry?” you asked.

You baby gave an affirmative babble and gave his dad uppy arms; Din obliged him and dried him off a little as you spread out the picnic blanket. Your little one came and sat in your lap as Din helped you set out the food. 

“You missed your mama, didn’t you?” Din said sweetly. You brushed an affectionate hand over your baby’s ears and swapped the bright purple stone he held for a piece of fruit. He watched your hand carefully to make sure you hadn’t really taken his prize away for good; satisfied when you set it next to you on the blanket, he happily ate the bite-sized food you and Din took turns giving to him.

Din took your baby back to the river as you tidied up after lunch, and you were happy to watch and listen to them play as you stretched out on the blanket and read the book you’d taken from the shelf in the bunk. It was a collection of poems that Din had gotten you for your birthday, and even though you’d been excited to read it, you hadn’t had much spare time lately. You were quickly absorbed in the poetry as you read; the sun was warm on your back, and the sounds of your husband and baby playing created a comforting backdrop.

They came back from the river after a while, their hands full of brightly colored stones, their clothes half-soaked, and their expressions as tired as they were happy. Din set your baby down and let him toddle over to you; your little one added his stones to the collection you’d made, his ears perking up as he sorted through them.

“All done?” you asked, giving Din a gentle smile as he dropped his handful of stones into the pile. 

He hummed in agreement. “For now, anyways. He probably needs a rest.”

Your husband gave a soft groan as he lay beside you, tired and comfortable in the warm sun. “Your baby is a pretty good swimmer, mama.”

You closed your book and looked over at your little one; his smile was wide at his dad’s praise, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“I saw,” you said, tapping his nose and earning a giggle in response. “Did you like swimming with daddy?”

Your little one gave an affirmative coo as he abandoned the rocks and climbed up onto Din; with a great big yawn for such a little thing, he lay on Din’s chest and snuggled close when Din laid a hand over his back.

“Tired you out, didn’t it, ad’ika?” you said gently, brushing a finger over his ear. You looked to Din’s face and saw he was already dozing too.

You smiled. “Wore your daddy out too, I see.” His hair was light in the sun, almost golden in some places; his cheeks were rosy and sunkissed under his scruff, his expression peaceful and soft.

You kissed his cheek. “Did you know I love you?”

He gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” He turned his face towards you, your noses bumping together, his kisses tender and drowsy. You brushed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna take a nap?” you asked, keeping your voice soft for your baby’s sake. He was already asleep, curled snugly under his dad’s hand, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of Din’s chest.

Din gave a content sigh. “Maybe. Lay here with me, cyare.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You kissed the bridge of his nose. “You want me to read to you?”

He nodded, moving his free hand to rest on the curve of your lower back. “What book is it?”

“The one you gave me for my birthday,” you said, flipping through the pages until you found where you’d left off. “Ancient Keltrian Poets, remember?”

He hummed in agreement. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely. “Here - I was in the middle of this one, but I’ll start it from the beginning.”

You read to him for a while, pausing to underline or make notes when you found a line you really liked; his fingers drew circles on your lower back as he listened and made a few comments here and there.

“For stars, innumerable, leapt everywhere,” you read. “Almost every gaze upwards became welded to the swift hazard of their play, and our heart felt like a single thing beneath that vast disintegration of their brilliance.”

You traced your fingers over that stanza. “That’s kind of like our vows, don’t you think? ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted.’ Our heart feels like a single thing.”

When you didn’t get an answer, you looked over at your husband. “Din?”

He shifted a little, and you realized he’d fallen asleep. 

“Alright, cyare?” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He ran his hand over your back. “That’s ok, love.” Even mostly asleep, he still comforted you with intentional gentleness. “What did you say?”

You smiled. “Nothing. Just that I love you.”

He tilted his chin up just a little, asking for a kiss; you obliged him, gently pressing your mouth to his.

“Keep reading,” he said. “I love the sound of your voice.”

You softened. “I love the sound of your voice, too.” You brushed a wayward curl from his forehead. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Naasad'guur mhi,” he said. “It’s a drinking song.”

“It’s pretty,” you said.

He hummed in agreement.

“What’s it about?” you asked.

“It says, ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care, we are the elite Mando boys from Mandalore.’”

You laughed. “That’s really what it says?”

He smiled. “Yeah. It sounds really nice when you have a bunch of people singing it all together.”

You gently ran your knuckles over his scruff. “Will you sing it for me later?”

“Sure, cyare. If you want me to.”

You settled closer to him and flipped the page to the next poem, reading it aloud a bit more quietly than you would have usually. Din’s breathing evened out until he was snoring softly; you smiled when you saw the way your baby had a fistful of Din’s shirt held tightly in his hand. The sound of the river kept you company as you read about stars and rainstorms and fields of aura blossoms; Din’s warmth beside you was comforting and steady. Days of rest and peace were few and far between for your little family, but they were sweeter for it; you held tightly to them when they came, and always thanked the jate’kara for days like these.

series taglist: @kyjoraven​​​​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​, @remmysbounty​​​​​, @bitchin-beskar​​​​​, @cosmicbreathe​​​​​, @prettyboyskywalker​​​​​, @happyxdayxbitch​​​​​, @radiowallet​​​​​​, @marvelous-glims​​ ♡

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekcryptid​​​​​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​​​​, @stardust-galaxies​​​​​, @theorganasolo​​​​​, @qhbr2013​​​​​, @willowtheewisp​​​​​​, @lori-tovar​​, @sarybennett​​ ♡

please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

no grave can hold my body down – 2/2

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better.

Word Count: 9,000

A/N: I know there are a lot of contradicting opinions on Jason Todd’s height. But for my own wish fulfillment, he is 6′3/6′4ish in this fic. 

Part 1

Y/N had fallen asleep after getting home from work. She had a long day and was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as she sat down on the couch. Jason had to take off her heels and drape a blanket over her.

Now he was dressed in his armored undershirt, cargo pants, leather jacket, and tactical boots. His red helmet was tucked under his arm, but he was already wearing a domino mask. If Bruce had taught him anything, it was to be prepared to a point of paranoia.

He crouched down to his knees.

Ever so gently, he brushed Y/N’s cheek.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

She stirred and winced a bit when she opened her eyes, the glare of the quiet television was suddenly harsh.

“What’s going on?” She asked, still half asleep.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to go on patrol.”

“Mhmm. OK.” She hummed. “Be careful, J.”

If Y/N ever found out how un-careful the Red Hood was, she would never sleep and she’d probably beg Jason to quit his vigilantism.

“I love you,” he told her before kissing her on the forehead.

“Love you, too,” she said back so dreamily that it sounded like she was talking in her sleep.

Jason slipped out of the window. He purposely chose this apartment due to the direction the windows faced, the distance from approximate apartments, and the darkness that would prevent any wandering eyes from the neighbors.

He’d been patrolling for a few hours. It was oddly a quiet night. He assumed it had to do with how cold it was outside. Sometimes criminals were weak in the most obvious ways.

Jason was standing on a rooftop, taking a breather when he felt someone drop behind him. He knew his family all too well and could differentiate all of their footsteps. Which was why he didn’t immediately shoot Dick when he thought he’d try and surprise him.

“So, Y/N was quite the hit…” Dick said without giving Jason a proper greeting first.

“What are you still doing in town?” Jason answered.

Dick sighed. “B still needs a little help on the case.”

Jason nodded, not actually caring why Dick was still in Gotham. 

Then an awkward silence washed over them. Well, Dick thought it was awkward. Jason couldn’t care less. 

“Why won’t you talk about her with us?” Dick’s teasing was gone and his tone serious now.

Jason turned his head away from the city view and finally acknowledged his brother. “You don’t need to know anything about her,” his helmet distorted his words to make them sound even harsher than they already were.

“Doesn’t seem like she completely shares that view.”

Jason didn’t respond. He didn’t appreciate Dick speaking on Y/N’s behalf.

“Bruce seems to like her,” Dick added.

Jason’s head snapped to him. “As if I give a fuck,” he snapped.

Dick had the audacity to laugh. “How did the two of you meet anyway? She was living in New York City when the two of you first met, right?”

“Jesus,” Jason growled. “Did all of you run a background check on her?”

Dick shrugged. “What did you expect?”

————

Y/N didn’t have any idea where she was going. With the sun having already set, she couldn’t even figure out what direction she was headed.

But she had typed the address to her hotel into the Uber app and trusted it from there. She was also too preoccupied still answering the dozens of work emails on her phone.

“Hey lady, we’re here,” the driver said rudely after she didn’t realize they had stopped.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, writing the last few words of a sentence before pressing send.

She jumped out of the car and yelled a thanks before slamming the door shut.

To her surprise, the car raced off without a second’s hesitation.

But when Y/N turned around, she realized she was definitely not in the right place. And for the first time throughout the drive, she realized she was definitely in a bad area.

Y/N heard all of the terrible things about Gotham. Sometimes she wondered if the things about all of the crime were exaggerated by the news or if the city was really rotting from the inside like everyone said. What she definitely didn’t believe in was all the vigilantes that seemed to be protecting the city. No one could ever offer up any proof, even with every single human having a video camera in their hands at all times.

But now she wishing she’d taken people’s warnings a little bit more seriously.

This was definitely not Gotham Heights, where her nice hotel was located.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she whipped out her phone and instantly tried to call another Uber. But the app was being finicky and she was getting a loading screen for far too long.

Then she heard a group of men whistle at her. The streets were filled with literal dumpster fires. There were countless inoperable cars with broken windshields and without wheels. The only women she spotted looked like they were working the streets.

‘Walk, Y/N. Just walk. Act like you know where you’re going.’ Her brain was screaming at her.

So she did while remaining on high alert.

No matter how much she pretended to blend in, she was obviously out of place and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Her heart was racing and she tried to walk as fast as she could without fully running. She just hoped to get to a main street soon and try to catch a yellow cab, since apparently all her car-service apps decided not to work.

But suddenly, a man stepped onto the sidewalk, blocking Y/N’s path forward.

“You lost, sweetheart?” He cooed.

Y/N stopped and started backing away. But when she turned around, she saw that two men were waiting behind her.

“No need to be scared,” the same men said behind her, closer this time. “We just want to talk.”

‘Fuck this,’ Y/N thought before she decided to make a run for it.

But one of them grabbed her and shoved her to the side, pushing her into the alleyway she hadn’t realized they were right next to.

It was so dark that she could hardly make out the silhouettes of her attackers. But that wasn’t going to stop her from fighting. She immediately tried to shove past anyone in her vicinity and hit whoever was grabbing her.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She screamed, hoping that there was someone in this poisoned city that would try and help her.

Except she was outnumbered by three men, which ended in her getting shoved up the brick wall that lined the alley.

“I don’t have any money,” she gasped as a last ditch effort to save herself.

“Who said we wanted your money?” One of them chuckled darkly.

Before their words could hearten Y/N to try another defensive attack and escape, there was a strange zipping sound that echoed down into the alley.

Next thing Y/N knew, the man that was pressed up against her and pinning her to wall was flung off.

Y/N gasped and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness enough so she could actually see what the hell was happening.

“It’s the hood!” One of the men yelled to his friends before making a run for it.

Then a gun was fired off – two shots.

Y/N yelped at the noise and covered her ears.

But when she looked back up, the man who had tried to escape was now on the ground, screaming in pain as he looked down at both of his knee caps that had been shot.

When Y/N turned her attention to the other two men, she finally saw who had interrupted their assault.

It was a man – if that was even what he was – dressed in military gear of some sort. But what really caught her attention was the red helmet that was reflecting the night light and allowing her to actually follow what was happening.

Y/N watched as he punched the daylights out of one of her attackers. She saw the man’s face get more and more covered with blood with each punch.

If Y/N was scared before, she was now terrified.

Without hesitating any longer, she too made a run for it, hoping she wouldn’t be shot like the other runaway.

She sprinted around the corner. But she only got a few yards before the same behemoth landed in front of her.

He was tall, and had to be at least 6’3. Men were confusingly short in New York, so Y/N was still trying to wrap her mind around having to tilt her head slightly up. But then she realized it wasn’t even his height that was jarring; it was how utterly hulking he was. His shoulders were so wide and his chest was massive. His thighs seemed to be the same width has her entire torso.

Everything about him was intimidating and imposing.

“I gotta give you credit for being that fast while wearing heels,” he said to her as he glanced down at her shoes.

It wasn’t exactly comforting that his voice seemed to also be distorted by the helmet.

Y/N was frozen in fear, truly not knowing what he was capable of or even what he wanted.

“You can relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he told her with his hands raised. His guns were no longer in his grip, but in their holsters at his thighs.

“You just killed three men,” Y/N told him with a shaky voice as she took a step back.

“I didn’t kill them. But if you want me to, I’d be happy to go back there and finish the job.”

“What? No!” Y/N cried out.

He had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction.

“Where exactly did you think you were going?” He asked her.

“This whole damsel-in-distress thing is new for me. But I thought it made sense to run away from the guy who was shooting people,” she told him quickly.

Jason was grateful that his mask hid all his emotions and facial expressions, because he was smiling at her sass.

He looked her up and down, taking in her outfit and just her overall look. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What gave me away?”

He shrugged, ignoring the question. “What the hell are you doing in The Bowery? This is the most dangerous neighborhood in Gotham.”

“My Uber dropped me off here. I thought I was at my hotel and by the time I figured out I wasn’t, my driver had already sped away and left me for dead.”

He took a step toward her. “What’s a gal like you doing in Gotham?”

“I work for an art gallery in New York. But there was an event that I had to attend. I’ve been here all weekend.” 

Why was she telling him any of this?

Jason nodded in understanding. “Come on,” he told her.

“W-What?” She asked nervously.

“You’re not gonna get a car in this area. You should report the driver who brought you here in the first place. He knew better.”

He walked past her.

Y/N looked around her, trying to figure out if she even had any other option. She knew he was right about a car, which was probably why she’d gotten a loading screen for all of them when it realized her location.

Yes, he was technically a masked criminal. But he did just save her life, no matter how terrifying it was to watch.

Y/N decided she didn’t have much of a choice.

Before she could move, a motorcycle was being pulled up alongside her.

Y/N eyed it for a moment.

“What’s your name?” She asked him, as if it would make the situation any safer.

“Red Hood,” he told her.

Y/N nodded, not surprised that it didn’t make her feel any better. She realized she was in no position to ask for his real identity. She knew enough about vigilantes to understand that they only survived from hiding their true selves from the criminals they fought and the law enforcement who thought what they were doing was wrong.

“Where are you staying?” He asked her.

“Crest Hill Hotel,” she told him.

“Fancy,” he teased. “Hop on.”

Y/N hesitated before following his instructions. She sat awkwardly on the back of the motorcycle, unsure of what to do.

“You’re gonna want to hold on, beautiful.” He told her over his shoulder as he revved the engine.

Y/N tried to ignore the heat that rushed to her face as he called her ‘beautiful,’ and then she tried to ignore how wide and strong his torso felt as she reached to hold on.

It took 20 minutes to get to her hotel, proving that the Uber driver really hadn’t given a crap about how incorrect her original address had been.

Jason had decided to drop her off in the back entrance to avoid a scene of the infamous Red Hood dropping off an average citizen. He didn’t need that type of attention and Y/N shouldn’t be tied to him in any way.

Y/N got off the motorcycle with a surprising grace and turned to him.

“Thank you for…saving me,” she told him gently.

“It was nothing,” he told her.

Y/N just watched him for a moment, wondering what he looked like under that red helmet and without all the armor.

“What’s your name?” He surprised her by asking.

“Y/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

She didn’t know why she felt comfortable giving her surname. But it just came out.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Though, I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

Y/N suddenly dug into her purse, making sure she still had her phone and even just the key to her hotel room.

“Fuck,” she muttered without realizing it.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“Nothing. I just…it sounds stupid, but I have a little notebook to write down ideas for – well, for my artwork. But it must’ve fallen out back in that alleyway when those guys shoved me against the wall.”

When she looked up at him, it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Anyways, thank you again.” She turned to finally walk away.

“Y/N?”

She shouldn’t love how much she loved the sound of him saying her name.

Y/N turned around.

“Stay close to the hotel. Gotham is different than New York City.”

She nodded.

————————

“So, when did you see her again?” Dick questioned after he listened to Jason’s retelling.

“I was helping out a friend with a job in NYC. Things got ugly. I may or may not have been shot when I showed up at her window. Her apartment was in the area and I needed a place to lay low.”

Dick laughed. “Uh huh. Sure you did.”

Jason ignored him. “Anyways, I’d gone back to the alley that night and found that notebook she was talking about, and gave it to her to make up for bleeding all over her couch.”

“Always the romantic,” Dick teased.

Their conversation came to a halt. Instead of talking, they both listened to the city noises that Gotham brought.  

“Listen, Jason, I know I did a poor job of being there for you and actually acting like a brother. And I also know you haven’t always been my biggest fan.”

Jason stayed quiet.

“But you deserve to be happy. And we both know Y/N does that.” Dick sighed. “But you don’t talk about her with us and you kept her from even just meeting us after years of you two dating. If we weren’t all noisy and paranoid, we wouldn’t know a thing about her.”  

“What’s your point, Dick?” Jason asked roughly.

“No one ever wants to acknowledge this, especially you…but you’re more like Bruce than any of us. And you’ve seen how he pushes people away, keeping them at a distance. Y/N wants to be a part of your life, your whole life. And that includes all of us – whether you like it or not. So, what I’m saying is you don’t have to hide her from us.”

Dick knew not to expect a response from Jason. So he left him where he found him and gave him his space once again.

Jason didn’t have anything to say anyway. 

Dick’s words made him angry more than anything. Because he knew they were true. Yes, he saw how Bruce behaved with women. It was promiscuous and casual, because anything else was too close for comfort. Bruce’s priority would always be Batman. And Bruce knew that no significant other deserved his lack of commitment – no matter how much they might love each other.

—————

Y/N was doing her nightly routine and applying moisturizer to her face when she heard it. She could be acting paranoid, but her instincts were telling her something was off. 

No, someone was here.

Jason made a point of being loud and immediately announcing when he got home as to not scare her. So, it couldn’t be him.

As quietly as possible, Y/N tiptoed out of the bathroom and to her side of the bed where she kept a titanium baseball bat. Jason had offered her multiple times to teach her how to shoot a gun. But Y/N wanted nothing to do with them.

With the bat in hand, Y/N snuck her way to the living room where she heard the sound.

She had turned off all the lights, making it hard for her to see clearly.

But she did see a large mass standing in the middle of her living room. With just a bit of hesitation, Y/N swung the bat. But the intruder caught the bat, stopping her attack.

They stepped into the moonlight, finally allowing Y/N to see that it was Batman in his full uniform, cowl still on.

“What the fuck. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Y/N snapped at him.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce defended.

But Y/N was still irritated. “Jason isn’t here.”

“I know. I came to talk to you.”

She froze. “Me?”

“I need a favor.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “I highly doubt I could do anything to help you.”

“You’re wrong. This has to do with your job. You work at The Drago House.”

Y/N tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“It’s owned by the Ibanescu family. They use it as a front for human trafficking.”

Y/N shook her head. “That can’t be possible…”

“Don’t underestimate the crime families of Gotham, Y/N.”

“So, why do you need me?”

“There are files and codecs that would decipher who their buyers are and where they hold auctions around the world. Nothings digital. They’re old school. With that information, we could shut done their operation forever.”

Y/N’s face was serious now. “What do you need me to do?”

“You have always had access to all the information. You just never knew it. All I need is for you to scan the files.”

She now looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t they say you're the world’s greatest detective? I find it hard to believe that you’d have problems breaking into the gallery after hours to get them for yourself…”

“It’s only completely lockdown as soon as it closes every night. Their security system is high-end and resets every 24 hours. Could we get into it eventually? Yes. But we’ve already been at it for weeks. And we’ve received word that there’s a big…” He hesitated. “…shipment happening any day. We don’t have time to waste.”

Y/N thought about what he was telling her.

“Why didn’t you go to Jason?” She finally asked.

“You said Jason doesn’t tell you what to do.”

Y/N glared at him for using her own words against her.

The apartment went quiet again.

Then Y/N nodded slowly. “There’s an opening tomorrow night. I can get them then.”

—————

Dick’s words haunted Jason for the rest of the night. He wanted to cut patrolling early and just get back to Y/N.

Now he swiftly moved into his apartment from the fire escape and immediately took off his helmet and domino mask underneath.

But Jason froze when he saw Y/N’s bat in the middle of the living room.

His heart raced at the immediate assumption that something happened to her. The furniture was untouched and there were no other signs of trouble, but he still rushed towards the bedroom anyway.

“Y/N?” He called out, despite it being nearly 4AM.

He let out a sigh of relief when he found Y/N slowly waking up from their bed.

“J?” She murmured, half asleep.

“Y/N, why is the bat in the living room?” Jason asked as he rubbed his face and then sat on the edge of the bed near her. Without even thinking, he cupped her cheek.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up more. “I thought I heard something and freaked myself out. But it was nothing.”

“Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me when shit like that happens.”

“But it was nothing,” she repeated. “What?” She added with a sigh when he was giving her that disapproving look.

“I don’t care if it ends up being nothing. If you’re scared, then I’m going to be here. OK?” Then he finalized his point with a quick kiss to her lips.

She nodded. “OK.”

Then she looked him up and down, realizing that he was still completely in his Red Hood gear, only without his helmet.

“You OK?” She asked in a whisper. Her eyes already scanning his body for any obvious injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jason sighed. “I was just worried about you when I saw the bat. I thought something…”

Y/N quickly sat up in bed. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m fine. I’m OK. I was just being paranoid. I should’ve put the bat back. I’m sorry.”  

A comfortable and reassuring silence settled between them.

“Why don’t you take a shower and come to bed?” Y/N offered softly.

Jason nodded and kissed her again.

As soon as he was out of the room, Y/N ran a hand over her face. 

She hated lying to Jason. He didn’t deserve it. But she also knew he wouldn’t let her anywhere near an operation that Bruce was trying to pull off. This had to be the same thing that Tim had pulled Jason aside for at the gala.

But Bruce made one thing clear: he needed her help. And he wouldn’t do so if he wasn’t desperate.

———————-

The next night, Y/N couldn’t stop sweating and her heart rate was out of control. She tried to act like this was just another day of work, greeting customers, explaining the pieces, and answering questions.

But the need to get into the back offices when everyone else was gone would not stop nagging her.

With shaky hands, she tapped her ID on the scanner. Usually at this point in an event, all of her colleagues were either on the floor or had called it the end of their work day and headed home.

By some miracle, that was exactly the case.

Y/N locked the door behind her, never having seen a purpose for doing so any other day of working at the gallery.

“OK. OK. OK. Breathe,” she muttered to herself as her eyes scanned the room.

She knew where all the files were in the room. And Bruce had given her the keys to knowing what to look for. Now it was just a matter of putting the two together.

Y/N instantly went to work and started shuffling through papers, finding what was needed.

Bruce had given her a special pen that would scan every file within a second no matter what angle it was pointed at, so Y/N wouldn’t have any suspicious photos on her cellphone.

Y/N was almost done, covered in sweat and with shaking hands, when the door started jiggling.

She swore her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

With pure adrenaline, Y/N quickly put back the files that were in her hand.

But the person on the other side of the door was clearly getting impatient quickly and continued to mess with the doorknob.

Y/N jumped when it was finally kicked open. She whipped around to stare at a man who was nearly the size of Jason, but looked far deadlier. She’d never seen him at the gallery before, which meant he was definitely part of Ibanescu’s gang.

“Can I help you?” She snapped rudely, trying to use her authority to hide her fear.

“What are you doing in here?” He accused.

“I work here. Who the hell are you?”

He ignored her question. “Why was the door locked?”

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Y/N shot back.

And with that, she straightened her posture and started walking past him. But this man wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Just as she thought she’d slipped away, the man grabbed her by the arm.

“Excuse me,” Y/N hissed.

But he ignored her and started dragging her into the back storage area of the gallery and further away from the crowd.

Y/N tried to rip her arm from his grasp but his grip was vice-like and didn’t even seem fazed by her efforts to escape.

This was not good.

While Y/N was still hopeful that she could possibly talk her way out, she was also realistic. 

Which is why she hit a button on her watch.

Jason had gifted it to her very early on in their relationship. It was a classic chronograph watch. But he had installed a panic button onto it.

“If something ever happens – even if you think you’re being overly cautious – you push this and it will send out a signal that I can track. I’ll be there before you know it.” That’s what he had told her when he gifted it, and she’d worn it every day since.

A few seconds later, Y/N was being shoved through the door that led to the back alley.

There was a group of men, just as large and intimidating as the one who still had a grip on her arm.

It was pouring rain and freezing outside. But the slight overhand of the building into the alley protected them slightly.

“What the fuck is this?” One of them asked.

“I found her snooping around in the offices,” he announced.

“I’m one of the directors of this gallery!” Y/N bit back. “I was checking the price points on pieces for a potential customer.”

“The door was locked,” the man added.

They all seemed to be looking at each other.

Y/N was frozen, trying to wait for the perfect moment to make a run for it.

But then she saw one of the men, who appeared to be in charge, eye the pen that was clipped to the pocket of her pants. She prayed that he was too stupid to think it was anything more than just a writing utensil.

But then he slowly walked up to her. He grabbed the pen from her pocket and inspected it.

Y/N swore time froze. She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t feel the tight grip on her arm that was surely going to bruise her.

Then the man’s gaze shifted from the pen to her eyes.

“Get her in the car,” he told the group.

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Without hesitating, she immediately started to fight the man holding her. With a swift motion, she kneed him hard in the groin, making him let out a growl and keel over. But he dropped his grip on her arm.

Despite wearing heels, she made a run for it. She didn’t get far, but she got far enough into the rain that she was already drenched.

Another man grabbed her, shoving her against the building and clenching her throat to a point of suffocation.

“You stupid bitch,” her original captor spat as he backhanded her across the face.

Y/N blinked as a ringing started in her ears and her face stung with pain.

“Get her in the car before you make a fuckin’ scene,” the leader warned.

But before they could respond to the command, the street lights went out, causing a surge of darkness to blind all of them.

Y/N tried to step away from her attackers as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. But she couldn’t see a damn thing. The pouring rain was only making it more impossible.

It wasn’t until one of the men cried out in pain and guns started firing that she could see anything. Except it was too fast for her to make out a clear picture. Every so often, a lightning strike or a muzzle flash would give her a short glimpse.

Lo and behold, Batman was taking out the men one by one. But every time Y/N’s eyes focused on his tall silhouette, he’d disappear. She couldn’t keep track of his movements. And apparently neither could any of Ibanescu’s men.

“Shoot the girl!” One of the men yelled.

Y/N’s eyes widened when two of the men turned their guns on her.

But just before they fired off their rounds, a small force tackled her to the side and behind the safety of a giant dumpster.

Y/N looked up to see a young boy shielding her with his own body.

Damian. 

Things were so chaotic that she hadn’t even registered he was there, too.

Before she could say anything to him, there was another presence that dropped down beside her. The next second, she was being grabbed and pulled into the sky.

From the feel of his arms alone, Y/N immediately recognized it as Jason.

His grappling gun had brought them to the roof of the building.

Once their feet were grounded onto the roof, Jason barely stepped away and grabbed her shoulders.

Y/N couldn’t read his face from his helmet. But the subtle movements of his head made it clear that he was scanning her body to see if she’d been hit. It only took a few seconds to be convinced that she was clear.

Then he was grasping her face. “Stay here,” he told her before he used his grappling gun to vault back down into the alleyway.

Y/N ran to the edge of the room to look down.

When Jason returned to the fight below, he was ruthless.

Damian had seen the Red Hood with a vengeance many a time. But this… this was something different.

No bone was left unbroken.

Jason wasn’t just neutralizing these men…he was out for blood and pain.

The leader of the little gang was on his knees, covered in his own blood, when he looked up at Jason, who had a gun pointed just centimeters from his head.

“Red Hood, no!” Bruce growled as he threw a batarang, knocking Jason’s gun away from its almost-victim.

Jason whipped his head around. “They were going to kill her!”

“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Bruce countered.

While they talked, Damian knocked out the man Jason almost murdered. By now, all of them were knocked unconscious or so injured that they couldn’t even open their eyes.

Jason’s entire body froze, realizing what had really happened. Bruce and Damian didn’t just happen to be there to save his girlfriend. This was their doing. They were the ones who had put her in this dangerous situation to begin with.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jason thundered.

Just as a flash of lightening struck, he turned to face Bruce, finding his new prey.  

“She had an in and I asked her to use it,” Bruce explained evenly. “She agreed.”

“Of course she fucking agreed!” Jason yelled over the rain. “She’d never say no to helping! And you knew that, and you took advantage of it!”

Then he raised his gun, pointing it at Bruce.

“Put the gun down, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Jason hissed.

The next thing Y/N knew, Jason shot a bullet towards Bruce, causing her to let out a yell from above. In her heart she knew he hadn’t aimed to kill, but Bruce dodged the shot anyway.

Now the two men were fully fighting each other. Bruce seemed to be pulling his punches and just trying to remain on the defense. But Jason wanted revenge. Yes, Bruce and him had a dark history. But putting Y/N in danger erupted something inside Jason that made him see red in a way he never had before.

Just as Y/N was going to call out for Jason to stop, she heard someone drop beside her on the roof.

Dick stood a few feet away, standing tall in his Nightwing uniform.

“Dick, do something!” She begged.

“I can stop Bats, but I can’t stop him,” he told her.

“Then get me the fuck down there! Use your zip-line thingy!”

“Zip-line thingy?” Dick repeated, clearly offended. “This is a grappling–”

“Dick!” Y/N cut him off.

“Right, sorry.” He grabbed her, held her body tight to him, and lowered them down back to the alley.

When Y/N looked up, Bruce was on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

But Jason wasn’t done with him.

“You made it clear that you don’t give a shit about me. But putting the one person I love in danger just for you to solve a case? You’ve reached a new low,” Jason yelled as he slowly started to walk towards Bruce.

But before Jason could reach him, Y/N blocked his path.

She was soaking wet and shivering from both the cold rain and the shock.

Jason could already see the bruises covering her neck and face. He also didn’t miss the small line of blood that had trickled down her nose.

“Jason,” she whimpered. “That’s enough.”

He froze.

Y/N walked to him. “Please, just take me home,” she whispered.

Just seeing her made Jason’s entire body relax. But he was also reminded that she was the priority, not Bruce.

Noticing her shivering, he took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Bruce, Dick, and Damian were barely able to see the short, loving moment before Jason flung a smoke capsule onto the ground, covering him and Y/N as he brought her into his arms.

By the time the smoke disappeared, Jason and Y/N were gone.

—————-

When Jason and Y/N got back to their apartment, Jason when into autopilot mode of nursing Y/N. He pulled her into their bathroom and immediately started helping her out of her wet clothes. Y/N couldn’t stop shaking, and he noticed.

Jason only left her side for the split moment when he turned to start the shower, making sure to make it extra hot.

Then he was right back at her side, taking off his uniform and matching her nudity.

When he gently tugged her into their abnormally large shower, there was nothing sexual about it.

Now that Y/N’s skin was bare to him, he looked at all the injuries she had.

There were a few scrapes that would heal in a week or so. But Jason’s gaze went dark every time they lingered on the bruises across her throat, face, and bicep. He should’ve killed all of those bastards.

Y/N leaned into Jason’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Because she knew that’s what this was. Jason wasn’t mad at her – at least, not yet. That could very much come later. But no, right now, he was scared. He put so much energy into keeping Y/N away from his other life, only for her to be thrown right into the center of it. And it wasn’t even his doing; it was Bruce’s.

“I know,” he bent down to whisper in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N didn’t know how long they stayed in the shower. But eventually Jason turned off the water and wrapped Y/N around in a fluffy white towel. She looked so young and innocent.

He moved her to their bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

Y/N watched him as he moved about the room, getting each of them clothes – all from his own closet.

“Are you hungry?” He asked her carefully as he handed her a pair of his sweatpants and one of his hoodies.

She shook her head.

Jason wasn’t surprised. One of the side effects of trauma and shock was a loss of appetite. But he made her drink a huge glass of water before he let her get in bed. And he made a mental note to make a big breakfast tomorrow when her body recovered and realized how starving it was.

When they were both finally under the covers, Jason didn’t hesitate to pull Y/N completely in his arms, smothering her with his giant frame. She welcomed his touch and warmth, burying her face into his chest.

Neither of them knew who needed this closeness more.

Tonight had been scary. Y/N knew Jason’s anger was bound to show up at some point. But right now, both of them were just grateful they were okay.

————————-

To Y/N’s surprise, she woke up in bed alone.

But her concern didn’t last long as she heard Jason moving around in the kitchen and she could hear soft music was playing if she listened hard enough.

When Y/N moved to get out of bed, she felt all the soreness that came from being grabbed and thrown around like she was last night. She winced, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. But she made a mental note to hide any signs that she was in pain from Jason.

Over their time together, Y/N and Jason got disturbingly good at reading one another. So, when Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Jason making breakfast, she immediately sensed things were not good. It wasn’t the cooking that tipped her off. His naked back was to her and she could somehow see the tension in his shoulders – in his whole body.

Y/N knows he heard her as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

“There’s coffee,” he says without turning around from the stove. He’s making pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, to be precise.

Y/N pours herself some coffee and sits at the table, watching him.

A few minutes pass before she’s had enough of the tension.

“If you’re gonna yell at me, then yell at me,” she told him.

Jason froze for a moment, but then quickly looked at her over his shoulder. “When have I ever yelled at you?”

He had a point.

Yes, Jason was once filled with only rage. There was a reason some feared Red Hood more than the Batman. He was ruthless. Fueled by vengeance, his temper, and his disappointment in the evil that plagued the world. He fought his enemies, but he also fought with his friends and family.

But Jason Todd was none of those things with Y/N. He never lost his temper with her. He never projected his rage and hardships from what he saw as Red Hood onto her. He’d never even raised his voice with her.

“I know,” Y/N admitted. “But I also know you’re still angry.”

Jason sighed, turning off the stove and bringing a giant plate of pancakes to the table.

But Y/N couldn’t eat while having this discussion.

Jason leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have let me do it,” Y/N countered.

“Yeah, and for good reason.”

“He used you, Y/N.” Jason tried to explain. “You’re untrained… with no exposure to this world. He knew not to involve you and he went behind my back to do it anyway.”

Y/N lowered her head in shame. There was a part of her that felt useless. She couldn’t jump around rooftops and save those who needed it. She was just…normal.

“I just wanted to help,” she mumbled.

Jason leaned forward from seeing her upset. “Y/N, come here.” He reached for her hand and baited her towards him.

She took his offer and moved from her chair to straddle his lap.

Jason held her waist tightly as he pressed his forehead to her’s. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

“You’re not going to,” she reassured him.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t ever do something like that again.”

Y/N’s heart hurt at how desperate he sounded. She had realized far too quickly that Jason wasn’t scared of death. He was only scared of her death.

“I promise,” she told him.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me, Y/N.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jason accepted her apology with a kiss. But it didn’t end quickly. In fact, it got more heated and hungrier. His grip got firmer on her waist.

Y/N knew where this was going, especially as he thumbed the hem of her hoodie and sweatpants. But they both needed this.

“The pancakes, Jason.” She warned him.

Jason smiled as he pulled away from her lips. “Fuck the pancakes,” he told her in between kisses. “I’m takin’ you back to bed.”

—————————

A few weeks had passed since the incident. Y/N tried to get her relationship with Jason back to normal. He still insisted on keeping his vigilante life away from her. But there was more of an understanding for why now.

However, tension had risen again a couple days after the attack, when they received an interesting gift in the mail. They had opened a rather large envelope addressed to the both of them. 

Inside were two first-class plane tickets to Paris with their names on them and an open reservation at Hotel Le Royal Monceau.

Y/N had stared at them with more of an understanding than Jason.

She’d looked up at Jason. “I…I told him I’ve always wanted to go to Paris when I first met him at the gala.”

He’d glared at the gift. “Typical Bruce. If he can’t punch his way out of an issue, he’ll try and buy it.”

Neither of them had said anything about actually using tickets and reservation. It just collected dust on one of their end tables.

Now Y/N sat in their apartment alone, reading another one of Jason’s books, when her cell started ringing.

It was a number she didn’t know, but she decided to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, it’s Alfred Pennyworth,” a charming voice answered back.

Y/N couldn’t help, but smile. As if she knew more than one Alfred in the world. “Hi, Alfred.”

“I thought it would be a good time to give you that lesson you asked for. Are you free today?”

Y/N looked around her apartment. All of her plans for today had consisted of laying around, drinking coffee, doing a bit of reading.

“Yes, today would be great.”

—————

Y/N wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and had given Jason the heads up on her change of plans.

Seeing as Jason had no issue with Alfred, he didn’t seem too bothered bit it all. But he did still tell her to be careful and ended the call with a sincere, “I love you.”

It was strange going back to Wayne Manor when there wasn’t a gala being held there.

Y/N thought it would seem more like a home this time around, but it still felt like a museum to her. And yet, she still had imposter syndrome as she walked through the threshold.

Alfred gave her a warm smile as he opened the door. “It is lovely to see you again, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Alfred, please, it’s just Y/N.”

He nodded. Then he gestured for her to follow him. “Come. I have a station set up in the cave.”

Y/N stuttered to a stop. “Cave? As in the Bat Cave?”

Alfred seemed amused with her hesitation and concern. “Of course.”

“Should I be – Is that even OK?” Y/N fumbled through her question.

“Well, I don’t see the point of hiding it from you. It’s not like you don’t know all the family secrets already, dear.”

Y/N blinked at that and finally continued following him.

Alfred led her through the secret passage way as if he was taking her to the dining room. She tried to control her reactions and not come off too interested in the details of it all. But it was rather hard.

Just like Alfred told her, there was a little medical station set up in a brighter lit area of the dark and dingy cave.

Y/N half expected him to bring up the recent drama that she’d caused. But ever the gentleman, Alfred didn’t so much as mention it.

He also did as he promised, going through everything she could ever need to know while tending to Jason. He even had little models to practice sewing stitches on. He was a good teacher and Y/N was soaking it all up like a sponge.

She couldn’t imagine her going to med school at any point. But knowing these skills were going to be used to help Jason made it easier to retain.

After hours of teaching, the cave awoke as a carport opened and the batmobile sped in.

Y/N internally swore. She’d hoped not to run into Bruce with this visit. He never seemed to be home, so the odds had seemed low. But clearly she’d messed that up.

Bruce stepped out of the car, taking in the two of them.

“Any injuries, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked politely.

Bruce was about to lie, but he glanced down at his abdomen where it was quite obvious he was bleeding.

“Perfect. My pupil can practice on you,” Alfred announced. 

Y/N’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh! That’s definitely a bad idea…”

“Nonsense. Best way to learn is under pressure,” he winked. “I shall go off and start dinner. Let me know if you’re near death, Master Wayne.”

Y/N watched him leave, regretting ever having come here.

When she turned back around, Bruce was removing his cowl.

“He’s right,” Bruce admitted. “Best way to learn is under pressure.” Then he moved to sit in the medical chair.

Y/N swallowed, realizing how dry her mouth was. “Right.”

Her hands shook as she tried to remember everything Alfred had been through. But she knew in the back of her mind that Bruce was fully capable of stitching himself up. So, as much as this was a set up from Alfred, Bruce wasn’t running away from it like she had tried to.

Y/N hadn’t said a word as she cleaned his wound, only apologizing when she thought was necessary – even though he never made a sound of pain or even so much as winced.

Bruce seemed to be following her lead, not wanting to force her to talk if she didn’t want to.

But after 20 minutes or so of silence, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer.

“You know, you can’t buy his forgiveness,” she said as she focused on her stitches.

“I wasn’t only looking for his forgiveness…”

Her eyes flickered to meet his awaiting gaze. “You can’t buy mine either.”

“I owe you an apology,” Bruce began to her surprise. “I should have never involved you. It was dangerous, despite how in control of situation I thought I was.”

“I agreed to it,” Y/N offered. Then she looked at him again. “But I accept your apology.”

A moment passed before Y/N asked, “Are you going to say that to him, too?”

“I would if he would even consider talking to me.”

With that comment, Y/N put down her tools for a second and straightened her posture. “I may not know you very well, Bruce. But I do know that you and Jason are more alike than either of you care to admit.”

She hesitated on continuing. Did Bruce even deserve advice from her?

“He was hurt. And he showed all of you that hurt by being angry, because he didn’t know how else to tell you. He doesn’t feel heard and he doesn’t feel seen. He was lost. And it’s hard for him to just forget how you all handled it.” She took in a deep breath. “But I know he still sees all of you as his family. And you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a real father.”

Then she quickly grabbed her tools again and cleared her throat. “So, get over yourself, and just talk to him. And I mean actually talk to him – not as Batman and Red Hood, but as Jason and Bruce.”

The cave went quiet.

Y/N couldn’t help herself and looked up at Bruce. Either she was losing her mind or he was giving her a very shy smirk.

“What?” She blurted out.

But before he could answer, a motorcycle sped into the cave.

Y/N would recognize Jason’s bike anywhere. But he wasn’t in uniform. Instead, opting for his black leather jacket and a normal tinted motorcycle helmet.

After he took it off, he eyed the two of them, trying to read the room.

“Hey,” Y/N said shyly.

“Figured I’d come and pick you up,” Jason answered her unasked question, ignoring Bruce.

Y/N looked down at Bruce’s injury. “Actually, I’m all done here.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said sincerely as Y/N covered the wound with a bandage. “You’ll be a better nurse than Alfred in no time.”

Y/N grinned and took off her gloves.

But then she met Jason’s unsure gaze. They had a silent conversation.

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Alfred,” she quickly told Jason, but really she was telling both of them. “Meet me out front when you’re ready?”

Jason hesitated, but nodded.

Y/N walked to him and gave him a quick kiss for comfort and encouragement.

And then she was off, leaving the two men alone.

Jason shifted his weight, not knowing where to start.

“You’re lucky to have her,” Bruce finally spoke.

Jason winced even though it was a compliment. “I don’t deserve her.”

Bruce stood up. “That’s not true.”

“You of all people know I’m not a good man, Bruce.”

He shook his head. “We may have different views on how to save this city. But we both want the same thing. That doesn’t mean you’re not a good man, Jason.”

Jason blinked at his statement.

“I owe you an apology for... a lot,” Bruce began. “The first is putting that girl in danger.” He paused. “The second was not protecting you – before and after everything that happened.”

“You mean before and after I died?” Jason wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Bruce’s jaw clenched at that.

“Anything else you want to apologize for?” Jason challenged.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed. “But I get the feeling that you don’t want to hear it all right now.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll always be my son, Jason. Even if you no longer see me as your father.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears at Bruce’s words. But he held them back. He couldn’t break down. He couldn’t be weak. Not here. Not now. Not like this. 

He couldn’t take any more of this discussion. But he knew this was what he’d been wanting to hear from Bruce for so long.

“I’ll see you around, Bruce.” He told him before putting his helmet back on.

But Bruce had one last thing to say. “Keep her close. Don’t be like me, Jason.”

‘Don’t push people who love you away and make this darkness be your only life,’ was what Bruce would never actually have the courage to say.

Jason now had the cover of his helmet to hide his expressions. But he gave Bruce one last glance before tearing out of the cave.

—————

As Jason pulled his motorcycle up to the front of the manor to pick of Y/N, Damian was playing out front with Titus on the gravel drive.

“Hey, Demon Spawn,” Jason greeted after taking off his helmet.

“Todd,” the boy replied coldly.

To his surprise, Jason got off his bike and walked to him with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Damian eyed him.

“I saw what you did that night. You saved her life,” Jason said.

Damian waited.

Jason held out his hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”

The boy hesitated before finally shaking it.

Jason didn’t expect Damian to say anything. But he did know talking to him like an adult, instead of a kid, was the only way to get through to him.

Then Y/N was walking out to them with Alfred lingering in the doorway.

“Hi, Damian,” she greeted sweetly before greeting his dog as well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Jason was surprised he even remembered her name.  

“Ready to go?” He asked Y/N.

She nodded. But then reached up to touch the white in his hair. She seemed to have a fondness for it. And Jason didn’t seem to mind.

“You OK?” She asked.

He nodded. “Better.”

She gave him a shy but encouraging look. “I’m glad.”

“I love you, you know,” Jason breathed.

“I know,” she smiled.

---------------------------------

Oh lordy. That took way longer than I was expecting. But kept my mind off of this dumpster fire of a country. And I hope reading it did the same for you ❤️

[detroitbydark]

Chapter 10

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch, Walon Vau... Every character imaginable and few that you probably didn't expect to see

Warnings: None!

Summary: Harvest Day is very busy day. The boys head home. Jessa faces some hard questions. Walon has to decide what is right for his growing clan.

A/N: 15K holy hell. Thanks your patience with this one. it was an undertaking! As always thank you to my wonderful @crimson-dxwn​ for letting me bounces ideas off of her and for her beta'ing. Thank @fractiouskat​ for being an A+ cheerleader and thank you to @royalhandmaidens​ for the greatest banner ever!

Kyr’vhetine Tuur comes on a most un-autumn like day with temperatures before the sun had fully risen already beginning to look to those of a cool summer morning. The winds had disappeared almost entirely overnight, leaving only a gentle breeze that barely kissed the nunas’ feathers

It was going to be an excellent day to celebrate the end of the growing season and the bounty of the harvest, Kal had proclaimed before the groups had split off.

Walon wasn’t one to argue the good fortune of a perfect day. He was old enough to know they didn’t come often and still young enough to appreciate it for all it was.

He pulls a deep filtered breath in while his HUD scans the surrounding tree line.

Per tradition, hunting parties had broken off at the crack of dawn in search of game. This would be one of the last good days for a hunt before the snows came and the animals disappeared into the white wonderland of northern Mandalore. It wouldn’t be prudent to attempt again until the heat of summer fell and the mothers had dropped babies and could be more easily avoided.

Rav Bralor and her boys from Yayax squad - as well as the former commander Levet - had come in the night before, much to Walon’s chagrin. Sleeping arrangements were far tighter these days with the various marriages and additional children. He’d had to put his foot down when Kal had offered his rooms up to the entirety of the Bralor clan. In compromise, Walon had allowed Rav and Levet to take up Jessa’s room and she had moved into Scorch and Sev’s while the rest of the clan piled in with the other bachelors.

Walon pretended that he didn’t know his Ad’ika had spent most nights asleep in Scorch’s bed already and simply explained that he didn’t think either commando would appreciate others sleeping in their space. She’d eagerly complied.

She was still asleep when he, Mird, Rav and Levet had gone to meet the other early risers for their hunt.

The verdant summer greens had faded first into jewel toned fallen leaves and finally crisp brown litter that spilled across the forest floor. It added a layer of difficulty that the Mando’ade found a pleasant challenge. Shatual were a finicky creature, as likely to run away from a hunter as they were to attack it. The crunch of leaves under boots was enough to solicit either response and many an unlucky Mando had found themselves enjoying the scent of bacta rather than the taste of shatual haunch after a hunt gone bad.

Each clan of the former training sergeants was represented this morning. Kal and Ordo had set off in one direction while Mereel and Corr had gone another. Rav and Levet had joined in as well. Walon, no human adiike of any ability in sight, had Mird as his hunting companion.

The strill stalks ahead through the tops of the veshuk trees, silent as death itself. The sun had yet to penetrate the forest around him and the stillness, the sheer quiet of the morning calmed him like little else could. Two days and still Fenn Shysa’s intel bothered him on a level he wasn’t familiar with.

Of course the Empire would look to make money where it could. Of course clone lives meant less now than they had to the GAR and the Republic at large.

Maybe it was the fact that they all had adiike still on the ranks - if they’d managed to survive this long - or perhaps it was the fact that they weren’t even being sold as slaves.

Walon, Kal, Rav and the rest of Cuy’val dar had raised competent soldiers, the best of the best. He himself had spouted that they were to be tools of the Grand Army, that their one purpose was fighting for the Army that in the end would give little thought to the clone -the men- they sent into battle. Now, to hear of them being sold as surplus like a decommissioned line of blasters or transports left Vau feeling sick and angry in a way that wasn’t familiar with. Righteous indignation was a state of being for Kal Skirata, but for Walon Vau it was new and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do with the rage simmering in his chest.

Mird chirps from his spot in the canopy above, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He nods carefully to the strill and readjusts his sensors to pick up heat signatures through the dense brush. Not twenty yards away a flare of color through his HUD as a great shatual buck rises from its bed, shaking its head unawares of the danger that waits for it.

Over two and a half meters from top of its dark nose to the white fluff of its tail. The spread on its rack is impressive and would make a fine display on any wall. It makes a low bellowing noise, calling for any unbred females.

Walon can see the lines of Mird’s body strung tight in preparation. It’s almost time and the Mandalorian can feel the cool calm of a hunter’s mind wash over him. There is nothing else in the moment, only hunter and prey. He says his thanks to the Manda for another day of air in his lungs and another opportunity to stalk the dark forest. He doesn’t need to look at Mird any longer. They’ve been doing this since he was a teenager. The strill is ready and waiting for the signal. Walon leans back slowly against a veshuk tree and raises his slugthrower to his shoulder. Only one word leaves his mouth.

“Oya.”

The shatual turns its head in time to see its death, teeth on display bearing down on it from the trees above.

A strill with business in mind will always go for the throat. A tiny shiver of pleasure skitters down the back Walon’s neck as the creature finds its target. It’s satisfying in a way that Walon’s never been able to put into words. The shatual tries in vain to throw the smaller strill off, shaking its big neck from side to side. Strill teeth are long and sharp and Mird will not be budged, even as blood from the shatual begins to run into his eyes. Walon watches his oldest friend readjust his grip, only his back feet touch the ground as he all but hangs from his prey. The shatual makes a forlorn sound as its front legs buckle, sending him down to his front knees.

Walon levels the sight on the slug thrower as the creature turns broadside. It bellows again but it comes out wet and choked. Vau finds the sweet spot, imagining an invisible “x” over the spot he wants to hit. He pulls in a gentle breath, all thought of auctions and clones and adiike pushed aside. He squeezes the trigger on his exhale and the shatual falls silent.

————

Sev doesn’t balk when Scorch asks to make a quick pit stop in Enceri. He doesn’t bat an eye when he forgoes their usual perusal of the blaster smiths for a box of fresh pastries. He doesn’t so much as question Scorch’s motives until they get to the flower shop. Even then it’s just more of silent Sev with extra eyes burning into the back of Scorch’s head.

The words had come to Scorch easily enough, they always did. They needed to woo their intended. He didn’t like the word courting, something about it felt too old timey and proper, not like something two former commandos turned bounty hunters would do. Sev seemed to find his explanation acceptable. He was good for rolling with the punches no matter what anyone else said. He even let his like and dislikes of the various options be known in a series of very Sev-like grunts and scoffs. Scorch liked the red ones. Sev liked the pink. They split the difference and got both and jumbled them together into - what Scorch felt - was a very appealing assortment. It took almost no time and it left the former commando pleased with his previously unknown ability to romance a woman.

And then they were heading home.

The sun had barely crested over the mountains when they arrived at the airfield and performed a quick once over of the Duke. She’d require a more thorough shakedown later but today was Kyr’vhetine Tuur - Jessa and Sev’s first on Mandalore - and in Scorch’s eyes that took precedence. His heart is light and bubbly as their speeder bikes cover the ground between the airfield and Kyrimorut. Last time they’d done this he’d had a half frozen woman wrapped in his arms and now, just months later, he was plotting ways to get her back into them. Into theirs.

He knew his vod enough to know that he wasn’t fully on board with the mission as of yet. He didn’t see the odds of a favorable success and he remained open but unimpressed by the possibility of it all. That was ok. Scorch had enough hope and atin’la for the two of them.

It’s not until Kyrimorut becomes little mounds on the horizon that the jitters start. Scorch has picked up women in cantinas. He’s taken them back to small hotels or their homes. Scorch has left everyone with a smile on their face. He has never properly courted someone. It’s been ten days and he’s starting to second guess what he thought was there. Maybe Jessa didn’t feel the same pull. Maybe the kiss was a fluke.

“Shut up.” Sev’s voice growls through their comms, “you’re thinking too loud.”

Scorch says nothing.

The yard in front of the yaim is crowded with a speeder and a trio of speeder bikes. The Bralors. Scorch frowns. He really doesn’t want to do this in front of an audience.

The pair park in the usual spot and slide from their seats. The sun is bright, its rays warming the wind whipped beskar covering them. Sev’s buyce cocks to the side as he turns toward the tree line. Scorch can make out the shape of their buir from a kilometer away.

“Went hunting without me,” Sev grumbles sounding like a petulant child who’s missed dessert.

Mird takes up position next to Wal’buir and Scorch can just make out the shape between them. Impressive.

“I’m going to go lend a hand.”

Sev is gone, taking off at a brisk jog with his pack still on his back before Scorch can say anything. If he didn’t think it’d get him slotted, he’d call him a coward.

There’s nothing left to do but take the plunge. Scorch waves to Atin and a few of the boys from Yayax squad as they head out toward the livestock pens. Chores would be done in a snap today and everyone can enjoy themselves after.

His HUD takes a moment to auto adjust from the intense bright light of the sun to the dimmer interior of their home. Conn, Burr, and Kad are all playing in the main area of the house. The three boys sit around in the floor with small carved animals playing near but not exactly with one another. Three matching heads of dark hair turn when they see him, eyes widening comically as they scrabble to get up. He’s done this a thousand times now and it never gets old. He swings his pack off his shoulder and, careful to not jostle the bouquet inside, draws out a handful of colorful hard candies. The children are nearly vibrating with excitement as he doles them out. Before he can turn to the kitchen, Conn already has three in his mouth. Bes is going to kill him, he thinks with a grin.

Surprisingly the kitchen is not the hub of excitement it usually was. He glances at his chrono. They must be having a late breakfast because of the hunt. Fi and Parja are pulling pans out of the oven and Laseema is busy filling small pots for the table with different jams and butters. Kyr’vhetine Tuur meant there would be something to eat within arm’s reach all day, so it wasn’t shocking to not see the usual spread of hearty filling dishes lining the long table.

“Scorch! You made it!” It’s Fi’s voice, bright as the autumn sun. The former Omega Squad commando greets him, ambling over and giving him a quick grasp of the forearm and knock against the bucket in greeting.

“Good to be home,” he agrees, feeling disappointment begin to sink in. Parja is grinning his way. “She’s in the walk-in. She’ll be out in a-“

There’s a clatter as a tray is unceremoniously dropped on the counter and before he can turn to see he’s got his arms full. One boot falls back to brace his weight and keep him from stumbling at the onslaught. He tenses for a moment, training threatening to kick in until thin arms are wrapping around his neck and he’s got a visor full of dark hair as Jessa presses in close to his neck.

“If this is how I get welcomed home I’m leaving more often.”

Jessa’s arms around his neck squeeze tighter as he stands straight and pulls her feet off the floor. Her legs come up, knees tightening around his hips. Scorch’s hands grip her thighs because they need support. Yeah, that’s why.

“Don’t you dare.” She whispers lowly.

“Keep this up and a guy will think you missed him.”

Scorch doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Parja and Laseema. He doesn’t hear Fi’s laughter. It’s just him and his girl and the rest of the world can kriff off.

Jessa leans back, her hands float to either side of his buyce. She stares into the T of his visor like she can see through it. The breath he’d been taking catches in his throat as she leans in and presses her forehead to his bucket.

“I missed you.” It’s so soft his buyce barely picks it up.

“Missed you too, Mesh’la.” If he didn’t have his bucket on he’d kiss her right here right now and not care who was watching. He’d push her back against the wall and he wouldn’t stop ‘til she was breathless. He doesn’t think she’d mind with the way she’s looking at him. Fett bless codpieces because his was saving his shebs from utter embarrassment.

Someone clears their throat behind them and Jessa’s pale blue eyes go wide. She wiggles against him and a small groan slips past his lips as he lets loose her legs. She untangles herself and slips to the floor, cheeks flushed crimson as she wipes at invisible creases in her pants.

Parja’s buyce cocks minutely. Scorch grins from ear to ear under the cover of his own. At Parja’s side Fi nudges her in the ribs. “How come I don’t get that kind of welcome home?”

“Bad balance.” Fi nods in understanding flushing a deep crimson as she continues. “Plus, there is that thing with my mouth-“

The former medic coughs and quickly places his hand over his riddur’s mouth. “Roger that. No need to clarify.”

Scorch reaches out, placing a hand above Jessa’s hip. When she turns he uses two gloves fingers to tip her chin up. She’s a sight for sore eyes. He wants to drag her back to the Vau side of the yaim and keep her all for himself. And Sev. Just the three of them like it was supposed to be. Only, she didn’t know that yet and they had to help her see. Her hand covers his wrist as she looks up, her skin is soft over the small strip of skin between his nerf hide gloves and where his flight suit began.

Jessa’s dark hair is pulled back into a messy top knot and she’s wearing a plain faded tunic that dips low, giving him just a peek of cleavage. She’s never looked more perfect in all the times he’s seen her.

“We brought you something.” It’s regrettable that he has to step away, he misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. He slips his pack from one shoulder and lets it slide around front. He’s careful to open it, glancing up to see her curiously eyeing him.

“It’s not going to explode is it?” The quirk at the corner of her mouth lets him know she’s joking, at least partly.

“Woman after my own heart,” he sighs dramatically. “You want fireworks? I’ll show you fireworks.”

Fi makes an ‘oof’ of pain as both his Riddur and Laseema pop him in the arm at the same time, “I didn’t say anything?!”

“You were thinking it,” Laseema says, arms crossed over her chest.

“But I didn’t say it!”

Scorch shakes his head, ignoring the audience. The bouquet is a little bedraggled, a little more worse for wear for its ride from the airfield to home. A few of the pink flowers have bent at odd angles and one of the red ones, a rose, has lost its structural integrity (and majority of its petals).

The look in Jessa’s eyes lets him know she hasn’t noticed a single one of the issues. They go wide with surprise and then crinkle at the corners as she smiles, clapping her hands together over her chest before reaching out, hand hovering just shy of the flowers.

“Scorch! They’re beautiful! And they’re for me?”

It’s a little confusing because he certainly hadn’t ever thought to bring flowers for Ordo or Atin. He nods his head and presses them into her hands.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. Sev had a hand in them too.” She pulls a long slow breath in through her nose. The scent really didn’t translate through his bucket but she seems to enjoy it.

“Sev? Sev Vau?” Fi’s voice is full of confusion. “We’re talking about the same psychopath we all know and love.”

“Hush.” Parja admonishes her husband. It’s an expected reaction. Sev was known more for his kill now ask questions later, Devil may murder attitude than he was for his softer side. In fact, Scorch was beginning to think the extent of his soft side only existed in a conveniently Jessa sized space. He was good with that. Maybe it was selfish to try to force her into a space they could both be with her. They didn’t even know if she wanted this but they had already plotted out a course of action and he was loathe to change it now. It was the Vau way. Make a plan and push forward until it worked or you died. Square peg round hole? Use a det.

Jessa folds the flimsy wrapped bouquet against her chest. She takes a step forward and Scorch can’t help but admire whatever has come over her in the ten days they’ve been hunting. She grips the back of his bucket and pulls his head down and presses against his again. There’s more confidence in that one movement than he’s seen in all the months she’s been in Kyrimorut.

“We should get those in water.” Laseema’s voice is a blessed interruption from the pure drivel he was about to spout.

Jessa nods and turns toward the cupboards, searching for something. His eyes fall to the round curve of her-

“Ahem…” his eyes snap to Laseema’s skeptical face. She’s got her arms over her ample chest and he suddenly feels the eyes of the rest of the room on him. Ok so now he feels seen. Parja is unreadable under her buyce. Fi’s eyes hold humor and Scorch knows immediately that the whole homestead - and then some - is going to know about this before the day is out.

Good. Maybe that would keep the other hounds from taking to the hunt. Not that Jessa was prey or should be hunted or…

“Scorch?”

Stang. He’s been caught. Jessa’s turned back with a stoneware pitcher and the flowers he’d given her artfully placed inside.

“Mesh’la?”

“Princess.”

All eyes turn to Sev and Walon standing in the doorway. A large shatual haunch is draped over Sev’s shoulder while their buir carefully uses a cloth to clean one of his hunting knives. He’s thankfully forgotten and Jessa passes the table, depositing the makeshift vase. She doesn’t exactly leap into his arms like she had for him but she’s still more than mildly enthusiastic to see the Mandalorian in front of her.

As usual, Sev appears impassive. The slight rise in his shoulders speaks otherwise as Jessa - much smaller than the man in front of her - comes to a stop and absolutely kriffing beams at the former sharp shooter. Wal’buir stands a step behind the pair, looking on with veiled curiosity.

“I like my flowers.”

“I picked the pink ones.” It's a Sev-level simple exchange.

“You did good,” she murmurs softly.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” It’s the first time Scorch has noticed the clean linen bandage wound around her palm. Of course, it would be the first thing Sev noticed. He watches her reaction carefully. His buir watches knowingly as Jessa tries to shrug it off.

“It’s nothing really. A little cut.”

Parja is the one to speak up this time. “Jess’ika tried to take in an entire Imp garrison in Keldabe the other day.”

Behind Sev, buir scoffs. Sev seems unamused as he brushes past her and places the freshly butchered haunch on the open durasteel prep counter and moves to the sink to wash his hands. Buir glances down at her as he passes and moves to the stack of mugs and carafes of caf sitting on the table. Apparently the old barve is going to let it play out without his intervention.

Scorch hovers in space watching as Sev turns back to Jessa. She’s shortened the distance between them and he nods to her hand. It takes a moment. Jessa clutches her wrist tightly and Scorch wonders what the Fek happened. Mird trots in from parts unknown and plops down next to buir. The merc begins cleaning off equal parts blood and saliva from the strill’s mouth as if nothing were amiss.

“It wasn’t really a big deal,” Jessa says, a defense. Fi makes a sound in his throat.

“Anytime now Princess.” As if ordered from a commanding officer she takes the final steps and holds her hand out. Scorch moves to taking up post at Sev’s shoulder as his vod begins untying the wrap.

“How long?”

Their buir answers from across the room. “Three days.”

Scorch lets out a low whistle as the bandage rolls away and the bacta soaked linen is removed. It’s nasty, deep looking. With three days worth of bacta and presumed early cleansing… he works it out in his head. It had been a bad wound. Sev is stock still, holding her hand in his palm.

“What did it?”

“My knife.” There’s no waiver in her voice, she looks him in the eye, a defiant tilt to her chin.

“You mean my knife.”

Jessa mouths falls open a hair before her teeth clack together and she sets her jaw.

Sev is unmoved. “Hand it over.”

And there goes the pleasant welcome home.

There’s more pairs of eyes on them than Scorch is really pleased about. A staring contest in the kitchen was not part of the plan. It’s a war of the wills as Sev takes a step into Jessa’s space. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t react at all.

“There’s two ways this will go and I end up with the knife in both.” Sev’s rumble is a threat that is crystal clear to anyone within earshot. He holds his unwavering gloves hand palm up between them. Scorch glances at his buir and sees a single shake of his head, fall back and wait.

Jessa pauses the length of a breath. Then she presses her injured hand hard against Sev’s cuirass for support while she pulls her leg up. Scorch has to give it to her. She keeps her eyes locked with his vod’s visor. If she were jetii his brain would probably be frying by now. He wondered if that was even possible and makes a mental note to ask Bardan later if that was a Jedi brain sizzle was a thing.

With her left hand she pulls the knife from the sheath hidden in her boot. For a second he thinks she may just drop it on the floor between them. The thought seems mutual as he glances around and the few inhabitants of the kitchen are watching with unrestrained curiosity. Jessa’s thinking very loudly. He can see it in the way her movements hitch. Had he given off that many signals Sarge would have cuffed him by now.

“Ad’ika, do give the scary Commando the weapon and be done with all the posturing.”

Jessa’s eyes drop but her voice remains steely. “Yes buir.”

There’s a lot for Scorch to unpack there, but his buir doesn’t seem willing to add anything to clarify for either of his confused sons.

Jessa presses the knife handle into Sev’s open hand. Her own ball into fists as she steps away from the larger Mandalorian in front of her. Scorch’s eyes immediately fall to the painfully slow drip of blood from her injured hand as she clenches and unclenches. Her partial handprint is painted in blood on Sev’s cuirass. Laseema notices and grabs a clean cloth. Jessa’s cheeks flush red as she turns away from both of them to face Laseema.

The Twi’lek shoots both men a dirty look as she presses the cloth into Jessa’s palm. She doesn’t flinch as the older woman fusses over her quietly. He makes out a few particularly colorful Ryl words.

“Let’s go to medical and get this redressed, ok?” Laseema’s soft voice belays the fierce glare in her eyes as they focus on Sev. With a huff and a protective arm draped around Jessa’s shoulders she ushers her toward the Skirata wing and medical just beyond.

“Real nice.” It’s Parja now on the attack, arms crossed over her chest in a manner most unwelcoming. She turns to follow the other two women. Their buir sighs deeply and Sev cocks his head at the door the three have just vanished through.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Fi says what Scorch thinks only in a much less exasperated tone than his own inner dialogue. That escalated quickly. A moment’s glance to his brother shows the other Mando is just as confused with how quickly that hit FUBAR status.

Behind them Walon Vau clears his throat. “So would my di’kutla boys care to know what happened while they traipsed across the galaxy?”

———

“You’re getting spoiled and fat, Kal.”

Walon does a fair job of hiding his amusement at Rav’s assessment of their fellow Cuy’val Dar vod.

Not to have his holiday merriment karked up by the Bralor clans matriarch Kal grins and pats the fine layer of paunch, barely noticeable around his middle.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you vod’ika”

That has Walon scoffing into his glass of ti’haar. Kyr’vhetine Tuur called for day drinking and Bralor clan had brought their latest batch, a reason for a lunchtime tasting if he’d ever heard one.

For his part, Mij Gilamar does little to hide his laughter, openly laughing at the Skirata clan leader. Rav was right, as Rav usually was. Kal’s favorite rocker had moved from its home by the hearth of the karyai to a comfortable position where he could lord over the comings and goings of the day. When lunch had been served Laseema had brought a plate loaded to the brim with the best cuts of meat, juicy orchard fruit, and freshly roasted root vegetables.

Kal turns his sharp eyes to Walon, ignoring the mirth dancing in Mij’s. “Nothing to say, Walon?”

He rolls his eyes, lowering his glass from his lips. “Rav’s assessment skills have not atrophied with age.”

Rav makes a disgruntled sound. “Thank you, Walon. I think.”

Mij, quiet to this moment, picks now to speak. “He can’t exactly say anything.”

Walon can’t exactly disagree. His own belly was quite full in part to his newest acquisition. Jessa had given him a plate - while not as loaded down as Kal’s had been - that could have easily fed two commandos. And some for Mird. She’d been very clear that she’d swiped a choice soup bone and some delightful strips of fat for the strill. His pet had taken the scraps happily before he’d been offered the bone and disappeared to do whatever it was that a strill did with bones. All Walon knew is that it would never be seen again and he wouldn’t need to clean up shards of it.

Rav leans back in her chair, not a rocker but still more comfortable than any of them had grown used to over the years, she sips her drink and Walon waits for it.

“When I heard through the grapevine that you’d adopted another I was shocked. And now that I’ve seen her I’m more so.”

There it was. There was no worse gossip in the galaxy than a Mandalorian.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Rav smiles. “Take it as you will. I’m still trying to figure out the why and obviously you are not going to illuminate us with your reasoning.”

Walon crosses one leg lazily over the other as he leans back. In a small shaded area across the open yard Jessa sits happily chatting with the Skirata wives. She looks genuinely happy and that makes him feel warm… or maybe that was the ti’haar.

As if sensing eyes on her, she turns and catches his. Her smile is radiant, like sunshine brought to life.

Walon leans forward and liberates the ceramic liquor bottle from Kal’s side and tops his glass off.

“The little ad has grown on me, much like a tumor.”

Mij, never as tolerant of alcohol as his peers, chortles merrily. “Leave it to you to compare having children to cancer.”

Walon shrugs. “Have one and find out.” Mij scoffs at the idea and the group settles into a comfortable silence.

Jessa and the wives chat idly. Further past the women, the former commandos and Null ARCs are dividing up into teams on the makeshift pitch. Some words pass between one of the Bralor adike and Walon curiously watches as Scorch grips his brother's shoulder and pulls him to a stop.

Meshgeroya would be good. The lot of them needed a good match. The amount of testosterone flying around the yaim as of late was stifling. It would be good for the mass to get it out of their systems before someone had an unfortunate incident.

“Of course it would be yours, wouldn’t it?” Rav sounds about as worried about the averted skirmish as he feels. Boys would be boys and Fett clones would be Fett clones. He hadn’t met one yet that hadn’t gotten at least some of Jango’s competitive nature.

“Who’s to say my lads started it?” He raises a brow in Rav’s direction and she challengingly raises one right back.

Kal clears his throat, drawing the attention of the trio. “We’ve got to discuss the information the Mand’alor passed along at some point.”

“Din’kartay?” Mij asks, setting his now empty glass on the ground. Kal nods. His eyes follow the first snap of the match for a few moments as bodies collide and whoops and hollers rise into the air. His eyes travel over the gathered group, all four of them sharing something no other Mandalorians could - a past and a shared future in the form of their adopted children.

“Surplus auction has been moved up.”

Walon’s eye widen. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Just got the comm this morning, after the hunt,” The greying merc explains, “It’s a week from now.”

“A week?” Rav waves it off. “We’ve planned ops in less.” Walon wasn’t feeling the same sense of comfort as his vod. Something was coming, the proverbial other boot waiting to drop.

“We’ve got a problem.”

There it was. Of course, there was a problem. Kal doesn’t wait to ratchet up the drama of it all thankfully.

“Our intel says the boys are going to be in two separate places, troopers in a subterranean holding bay and the few commandos we're expecting are going to be a part of the main auction floor, two stories up.”

Mij frowns. “So we need a two pronged approach.”

“Which means two teams with one in the actual auction itself.” Walon sighs at the realization. “And none of the boys are exactly inconspicuous.”

Kal nods sagely. “That is the issue.” His eye wanders again and still Walon feels like he hasn’t heard the worst of it. “Bes can’t go. She’s already starting to show and we can’t put her or the baby at risk.” That is valid reasoning. Walon nods slowly. “This is a high end event. The cream of the crop.”

“So that means human…” Mij says shaking his head with disgust, “Las’ika is out.”

“Parja is Mando.” Rav says with an air of pride. “She’s not going to pass for aruetii elite even with time and training.”

This time Walon follows Kal’s eyes when they stray from the group. Jessa is sitting in the small half circle of women while the children run around and play a short distance away. She glances shyly at the commandos playing their game. The shirts have come off and while the buir’e and family could tell one from the other without any issue, to the casual observer it would be hard to seperate a Skirata from a Bralor from a Vau. Parja makes a comment and Jessa’s face flushes bright red. Her anger with Sev from earlier seems to have subsided if the way she’s staring at his shebs has anything to say about it.

“Your Jess’ika came from money.” Kal presses on, a fool’s errand. “She can play in that sandbox as well as you could-“

“No. Absolutely not.” Walon doesn’t even want the idea entertained among the group.

“She won’t be in any Imperial database. She’s got no record. Who would you have go, Walon? Send a twi’lek? Send a pregnant woman?”

“Neither, but I’d also not have my child sent as a sacrifice either.” Rav and Mij are silent. Yes, keep your mouths closed as Bu and Buhi fight, he thinks sourly.

“Doesn’t she deserve the chance to say no herself?”

“Again, absolutely not. She is so eager to please and you with your words of aliit and pats on the head would have her signing up for war before she even knew what was going on.”

“If your worries are about Sev and Scorch-“

Walon holds up a hand, “they are not my concern in this, she is. I put them through the crucible myself. They are more than capable of handling anything placed in front of them. Jess’ika is an unknown commodity-“

“We’ve all been through the ringer at one point or another but-“

Walon raises a brow. “If this is going to be a story about poor Kal the war orphan you can stow it. She has no training.”

“Walon-“

“Gentlemen?” Mij asserts easily. His ire turns from Kal to his own sons as soon as his head turns a cheer of “Oya” rises up between the teams. Sev is on top of one of Rav’s boys raining hellfire while Scorch runs his yappy mouth and does a commendable job of taking a punch from another. The rest of the pack has circled and is shouting encouragement.

“Can we not just have one nice day?” he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet.

“Cov!” Rav snaps at Yayax Squad’s former sergeant from across the open yard. His enjoyment of his brother's tussle is quickly replaced by the stark realization that their buir was on her way and she was not pleased.

Walon watches as Sev slows, giving who looked to be Jind under him, a chance to breathe. He sits back on his heels still atop the prone Mando, chest heaving. He has the decency not to smile but Walon can see the delight from the little tussle dancing in his eyes.

Scorch on the other hand, continues to run his mouth as he trades blows with Yayax’s second in command, Yover.

“And now you keep your eyes where they ought to be.”

Walon can only imagine what started all of this, but he’s very clear in who’s going to be the one to finish it.

“Six-Two!” Scorch’s momentum falters as Walon snaps irritably, “Are you nearly done?”

“Yeah buir- just- about-there..”’ Scorch punctuates the last hit, slipping a foot behind Yover’s and shoving him to the ground. “Finished.”

Walon feels a surge of pride but it is far outweighed by irritation.

“Care to explain what the thought process was for this?”

Sev reaches down and helps pull Jind to his feet. He holds back a smile as Walon glares.

“Verbal correction didn’t work so methods required escalation,” Scorch explains without getting to the actual cause of the whole skirmish. “We’re good now, right ner vod?”

Yover glares balefully from his spot on the ground before nodding assent and holding his hand out. “Apologies, sergeant Vau, we were out of line and needed a quick recalibration.”

Walon’s eyes narrow. Rav has Jind by the chin, turning his face right and left assessing the damage. His eye is already swelling but it appears as if Sev worked his middle over more than anything, really rather harmless in the grand scheme of what he was capable of. The other commando appears no worse for wear.

“You said something stupid, didn’t you?” she questions, and he offers her a lopsided grin in response. Walon watches as she cuffs the larger man, though there is no real animosity behind it. He ducks and offers a sheepish, “Sorry Buir.”

“Nothing’s broken?” Mij joins the group.

“Just my pride Doc.” Jind tries to make his glance over to the group of women casual.

For the love of Fett… Walon rolls his eyes. All of this over a woman. Jessa is looking on with unshielded concern but her eyes follow Sev and Scorch as they fall back to one another’s side

- not the boys from Yayax squad.

“Your adiike ought to be muzzled, Walon,” Rav grumbles, as they step back and the men begin to reset their game.

“Probably, but they’re a bit territorial and I can’t blame them.”

Rav glances over and sighs, “I need to get mine into Enceri. Let them meet a nice girl.”

“What is it you’re saying about my daughter, Rav?”

“She looks sweet Walon but the apple never falls far from the tree, now does it?”

Walon pauses at the thought. It’s a wonder it’s never hit him before. Rav takes his silence as permission to continue.

“So will it be Sev or Scorch?”

Mij hums as if the question has occurred to him as well. Walon curses himself for not asking it sooner.

——

“It’s over with. You can relax.” Besany means well enough sitting cross legged on the blanket the small group of women shared but it’s hard to press the nerves of what she’d just witnessed to the background.

Conn, Burr, and Kad play a short ways away, oblivious to what had just transpired. They stack sticks in a tower trying to see how high they can make it before it topples over and they dissolve into laughter. Bes was probably right. This was probably normal and she needed to relax.

Jessa runs her finger along the hand sewn seam of the blanket. Her eyes follow as the stitches flow in and out of the fabric. Parja pats her hand. Jessa looks up.

“They’re fine, see?” She inclines her head toward the game that has restarted. “Sometimes things boil over, but it’s usually nothing a few well placed punches can’t settle.

“It’s just-“

Laseema offers a gentle smile. “When you haven’t seen it before it’s a little overwhelming?”

Jessa snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Terrifying maybe?” It’s Parja’s turn to scoff.

“If Sev Vau wanted someone dead they’d be dead. And in short order at that.” She gestures to the pitch and the bodies crashing together. “That was just working out a minor disagreement.”

It’s not hard for her to find the man in question among the crowd, the four jagged scars down his back stand out pink and raised over the hard planes of muscle, stark against the deep tan of his skin. Further up she can make out a circular scar, not as extreme as the other ones but perfectly symmetric as if done with a scalpel on the back of his neck. She's curious but not enough to actually ask about it. There’s a feeling that some things were sacred. Some things you didn’t just ask questions about. Even without the scars she wouldn’t be able to miss the way he moved. Like a jungle cat, he stalks from one spot to the next. He’s solid and sleek. He’s a hunter to his very core. No one else moves like him.

Scorch is simple to find for other reasons. It’s not the smattering of burns across his chest and arms or the way his sweat soaked curls stick to his forehead. No, it’s the sheer volume of his voice. Currently he’s crowing over Corr with the ball tucked under his arm. His eyes are sparkling and Jessa follows a bead of sweat as it trails from his hairline down his temple.

Sev appears at his side and butterflies tumble over one another in an attempt to escape her stomach. The sniper nudges his brother with his shoulder and says something and then both sets of eyes look up. Caught in the act of staring, she quickly looks away.

If the other women notice the interaction, they don’t let it dissuade them from the train of conversation that has seemingly jumped off the track and gone from encouraging their young friend to commenting on some of the more enticing aspects of the men on the field.

“Why are they so pretty?” Laseema asks, tipping a bottle of Ne’tra Gal up and taking a drink. Parja holds her own up in a mock toast.

“I don’t know but you’ll never hear me complain.”

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe stronger genetic variation doesn’t exist through the whole batch.” Everyone turns toward Bes. Parja nudges Jessa in the side as if to say, wait for it.

“Literally, how can there be so many perfect shebse?”

There’s a pause and then laughter bubbles up, giggles and chuckles. For a moment they are not mothers and warriors and former slaves, they are just women enjoying the view on a nice day.

“Who has the best?” Laseema asks as the giggles die down. In unison, Bes and Parja announce Mereel as the winner.

“You could bounce a credit off of that ass.” Bes says, barely able to maintain a straight face. Jessa flushes as Laseema agrees. She really hadn’t looked but now that she allows herself to she had to admit it’s a glorious sight. They are all glorious. Stripped of armor and flight suits, of the black under armor tops they all still prefer from their days in active duty they are pristine examples of what a man could be physically.

“You could wash clothing on Levet’s abs.” Parja adds. Bes nods in agreement. And it goes like this through the various family members. Fi’s smile. Atin’s back. Corr’s thighs. Bardan’s eyes. Jessa is happy to sit back and smile, every now and again nodding as the Skirata men are ogled and rated.

“What about the Vau’s?” Bes asks after a few minutes. There’s silence. Jessa feels the prickle of irritation at the quiet until she looks up and realizes three sets of eyes are looking intently at her.

“So…” Parja asks slowly, “you're part of this game too you know.”

For a second she thinks she might just wave them off, say something about not feeling right saying *hose kind of things but Parja is right and though she’s loathe to admit it - she has been looking and not just since the armor and clothes started to get peeled off and piled neatly on the sidelines. She flashes back to this morning in the kitchen when she’d pushed out of the walk-in and seen the familiar gunmetal and yellow beskar’gam and how her wits had left her. His arms had felt so good around her, holding her close after she’d flung herself - consequences be damned - at him. Scorch is an easy answer.

“His hands.”

This seems to be an answer everyone is agreeable with. Laseema hums quietly and all eyes travel back to the field and watch the former commando of the moment. He offers a cheeky smile and wave before the ball is snapped and turns back.

“Opinions on Sev?” It’s Parja again distracting her from the game at hand. The Mandalorian woman has a sly grin on her face. What was she getting at? Of course, Jessa had opinions on Sev. The strong muscles of his arms bracketing her, his thick trunk she could lean back into… jessa takes a moment to slow the race of thoughts.

“Sev doesn’t count in this.” Bes speaks up. The tone of her voice, the dismissive way she says it raises Jessa’s hackles.

“Yes he does.”

Bes startles nearly as much as Jessa does at her own words. Of course Sev mattered. He mattered more to her than any of the Skiratas and just as much as Scorch. “Best shoulders of the bunch.” She adds primly after an awkward moment of silence.

Parja barks out a laugh and watches the next play, Sev has his arms wrapped around Atin, pulling him down to the ground and pinning him face down with an elbow pressed into his back, “ok, she’s got a point.”

Laseema nods while Bes remains red faced and quiet.

The children, Kad, Conn, and Burr offer a distraction from the awkwardness that hangs in the air. The younger two head immediately for their mother while Kad seems to take a moment contemplating which aunt suits his current needs best. Jessa yawns. She hadn’t slept well the night before with strangers just a door away and it was beginning to take a toll.

It’s all Kad needs to see. He is a headstrong child when the mood hits and he was not one to be denied. Having learned both of these things Jessa doesn’t argue as he crawls into her lap.

“Sleepy?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the question but as she’d discovered even if a child was tired they’d be loath to admit it. Kad turns his face into her shoulder and Jessa wraps her arms around him. Bes and Parja excuse themselves. Bes steers the boys toward the yaim for naps of their own and Parja makes an excuse about bringing a tray of food out for the ‘old barves’ to pick at.

Laseema lounges back onto her elbows, eyes following the game that seems to be wrapping up. Jessa isn’t entirely familiar with the rules, but it doesn’t seem like the players are really following any set guideline. More or less they’re playing for the enjoyment of it. Jessa visually checks in on her boys. Always close to one another, Scorch talks rapidly to Sev as he points to Ordo and then to Corr on the other team. Sev nods in acknowledgement at whatever plan has been made.

Kad nuzzles in closer to her chest and Jessa eases the pair of them onto the blanket to lie down. The sun is warm and it leaves her feeling drowsy and content. Kad lays his head on her arm as she rolls to watch the game. His little fingers poke and prod until her other arm is draped over him to his liking.

In the air the song birds flit, taking a break from their southerly migration. The sounds of good natured ribbing and laughing comes from the game field before her and the group of buir’e behind her.

“So which would you choose?” The question catches her off guard. “Sev or Scorch?”

Jessa doesn't speak. Her eyes follow the pair as they play. Never far apart. Working together without words as if they were of the same mind. She can’t imagine one without the other or how it must have been for both before Sev had been brought back from Kasshyk.

The thought of making a choice has never occurred to her because the thought of anything more than the simple life she’s settled into is a seed barely sprouted. She frowns at the thought. If they both wanted to pursue something then of course she’d have to choose one versus the other but It doesn’t feel right, like separating a set. How would they react? Would they be competitive? Would they fight against one another? Would it tear the family apart? She’d rather be alone the rest of her days than see her fragile new family torn apart by her choice.

“Neither.”

Laseema cocks her head questioningly. Her lek curl and uncurl in a soothing manner Jessa can pick up from the corner of her eye.

“I couldn’t choose. I wouldn’t.”

———-

During a mission, when exertion and strain and sweat were a thing, Sev didn’t mind the thin sheen of perspiration that accumulated on his skin. He ignored the beads of it at his temples and the way rivulets of it ran down his back. Afterwards though, it was different. Since Kasshyk a lot of things had been different. Things he’d never tolerated - the loud way his brother chewed for example - became almost reassuring, while things that had never concerned him - like the coating of sticky sour sweat - were intolerable.

A couple of the guys - Levet, Corr, and Mereel - join him on his journey to the locker room after the match. He’d give it to Skirata, this place, their home, had all the bells and whistles. Everything he could want was here. Had he not just needed a quick wash down in the locker room he could have slipped off to the smaller bathroom shared between the twin bedrooms in his clan’s wing of the yaim. But no, the blood pumping and friendly competition had him feeling nostalgic. Locker room it was.

It takes him only a few minutes longer than the others to clean off, an extra few seconds of scrubbing with the mild soap that had followed them since their days on Kamino, while the others joked and laughed. Feeling clean made his bones settle, made them feel less like they wanted to rattle out of his skin.

Levet says something and Sev turns his attention. “Hmm?”

Levet has a towel slung low around his hips while he uses another to scrub at his damp hair. “You gotta excuse the boys. About earlier,” he says.

Sev thinks to tell him he didn’t have to do a kriffing thing, but this was Commander Tactful and even after his service to the GAR had ended, he was still trying to do what he’d always been good at.

Sev doesn’t need defusing. He wasn’t about to go off. He just needed the Yayax boys to understand that the Princess was a hands off, eyes to yourself affair. Levet tosses him a towel as Sev turns the water off. He catches it with one hand and bringings it directly to his face to rub residual droplets from his eyes.

Without the gloves Sev can hear the servos in Corr’s prosthetics whir as the younger clone dries himself off. “Sev is a little protective over his vod’ika,” the former trooper cracks.

That wasn’t quite what he was trying to make clear. He huffs into the towel. Is that really what it looked like to everyone?

“It’s understandable,” Levet agrees, “hear she’s been through a lot. There’s a lot of people who would take advantage of that; my boys aren’t them though.”

Mereel, who’s been quietly pulling clothes back on makes a discontent sound. “Seems to me if someone wanted to court the dal, they ought to make their intentions known the old fashioned way. You know, put it on public record.”

Sev can feel the Null ARC’s eyes on him. “You planning on making that move?” There’s a chill in the questions he doesn’t make any attempt to hide.

With the exception of the slow drip of water from the recently cut off shower heads, the room has gone quiet. Mereel stops where he stands, shirt halfway up his arms but not yet over his head. It’s an interesting time to realize Scorch isn't here to have his back if the sudden tension in the air ignites into something more.

“Are you?” It’s Corr’s smart mouth, he’s got a smile sliding across his face. “Because I was thinking I might stand a chance.”

In unison Sev and Mereel throw damp towels in his direction. He catches one easily with one prosthetic hand, the second - a half second behind - barely misses smacking him wetly in the face.

“Come on, really? Do you see this?” Corr turns to Levet motioning up and down his body with durasteel digits. “I could pull a woman like that.”

Levet, always level-headed and prudent doesn’t even favor him with a grin, “No, vod’ika you couldn’t.”

Mereel gives Corr a hearty pat on the back. “We can’t all be me. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable woman out there for you.”

“Gee thanks, vod.” He makes to sound irritated but Sev can see the smile lines forming at the corners of his eyes. The little bastard was still good diffusing a situation and he’s both irritated and grateful. He didn’t need a three on one but he also had no further intel on what was going on in the karking Null ARCs head.

Sev layers a fresh set of blacks under loose pants and a tunic. He collects his armor in a neat stack. No one else was putting there’s back on and he was going to take the opportunity to try without for once. He knew he’d likely wind up back in it before supper. Armor wasn’t just physical, it was mental as well.

He tries to tell himself that it’s got nothing to do with Jessa, but really it has everything to do with her. And what happened earlier. He follows Levet, Mereel, and Corr from the locker room but when they hang a right to head back outside he takes a sharp left toward his buir’s karyai. He waves off Levet’s curious over the shoulder glance. The others don’t attempt to wait or question.

It should probably sting, but it doesn’t. The Skiratas and Bralors were family but Sev only cared about two- three other people (and a mangy strill) when it came right down to it. Those were the opinions that mattered.

And he had karked up one of them. Or so he’d been told.

He heads straight toward the room he and Scorch shared, directly to the small desk that went mostly unused now that they’d set up shop in the armory. Jessa’s knife - his knife - his buir’s knife sat gleaming on the top, nearly sparkling against the dull grain of the wood, as innocuous as a honed blade of its caliber could be.

Maybe he should have gotten the story from her first. Maybe, as Scorch had suggested afterwards, it would be better to handle these things behind closed doors in the future. The thing is he hadn’t, and it wouldn’t have changed that he was going to take it back.

He was fracking impressed by the sheer gett’se it must have taken to stand up to a fully armored Mandalorian staring her down. She’d had fire in her eyes. It was like he could see her trying to decide what nice cozy intercostal space she could seat the knife in. For aruteii, it was fekking nehutyc. That still hadn’t meant the blade she was going to shank him with was hers.

It had always been too big. He knew the first time she’d held it to his throat - he swallows hard at the memory - that it didn’t fit well in her far smaller hands. He knew it was ungainly for her and awkward to wield but he hadn’t ever really meant for her to be in a position to use it. It was supposed to be a security blanket, something to pacify a terrified girl, but like everything else she’d surprised him. It wasn’t just standing toe to toe with him this morning. Wal’buir had told him what had happened in Keldabe. Before Mird had gotten help she’d been about to take on two fully trained Imperial troopers. Jessa was a smart girl and to Sev that meant she knew what she was getting into and not getting out of. The thought both set his teeth on edge and his kad to stiffening.

“Fekking Skirata.” Like his buir, Sev found it easy to blame the feisty old merc for everyday problems.

He grasps the handle and flips it in his grip. It was still a solid weapon, just not what she needed. He could fix that. Next time there was a blade between them she wouldn’t look at him like he’d done her wrong. Sev didn’t mind the anger and murder in her eyes but he didn’t ever want to see that look of betrayal again. He didn’t want to ever feel like it was her against him unless her life was on the line. He slips the blade into the sheath at his hip. It wiggles more than he liked but he didn’t intend on having it on him for long.

As he’s leaving, he catches a splash of forest green tucked under the covers of Scorch’s bed. He grabs the scarf without a second thought and folds it carefully as he heads out.

——

Parja’s in the kitchen. It’s nice because he hadn’t wanted to go looking. He hadn’t wanted to need to find an excuse to pull her away from the other women, or worse, her gossipy riduur. He knows the Mandalorian woman enough that if he could convince her it was important she’d keep things quiet. Fi, not so much.

She’s stacking a tray high with tidbits of cheese, meat, tiny pickled peppers, and bits of bread. His stomach growls and Parja’s head shoots to him.

“I’m gonna put a kriffing bell on you,” she curses quietly, narrowing her eyes. He didn’t have time for her ire, nor did he have the patience.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“After that stunt you pulled today? You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself.”

He tries to keep his lips from pulling back, he really does. He succeeds partly. Parja is undeterred by the silent snarl.

“You know she’s been a mess with the pair of you chakaar gone? You know she hasn’t been sleeping since Keldabe? You wouldn't know, because the first thing she gets out of you, Sev Vau, is nothing but trouble.” She’s pissed. He knows this because she’s gotten close and is using her index finger to jab an exclamation on each of her final words dead center of his chest. He probably deserves it.

“Can you do something for her then?” he questions. Parja takes a step back, sizes him up, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“What is it?”

Sev pulls the knife from its spot at his hip. Parja’s wide eyes move from the blade to its handler and back. He spins it in his hand, presenting the handle like one would a peace offering.

“I need you to make this work for her. I thought maybe - maybe you could make it into two.”

Parja takes the offered weapon. She studies it with the eye of a craftsperson and the tactical experience of a Mandalorian. Sev waits patiently. Somewhere outside someone is laughing obscenely loud, Mij Gilamar by the sound of it. “So-“

“You know I’m no armorer, no blade smith either?”

“You’re family and I trust you.” He waits again. She’s searching his face. After a moment she nods slowly. He hopes she’s found what she needed.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t tempt me.” There’s a hint of humor pulling at the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Say again.” Obviously he was commissioning her to make a set of blades. It really couldn’t be much more straightforward than that-

Parja rolls her eyes, humor once again gone. “Are you and Scorch courting her together or separately? And don’t think you can put me off or lie to me, Sev Vau.”

By Fett, he hated that word - courting - it sounded so… he just didn’t like it. He really didn’t want to have to go all the way to Keldabe to have this done, so he swallows down any apprehension and nods. “Together.”

“Good. Now let me get a few ideas from you.”

——

She sleeps light and dreamless in the spill of warm sunshine. Kad nestles close to her as she shelters his little body with her own, his small hands cling to the front of her tunic. She can hear the occasional voice of someone passing nearby, of footsteps approaching stopping and then continuing on. Months ago she’d have stiffened and been on edge. She’d never have freely offered her back to danger, but now it was different. Everything was.

Kad stirs as a familiar pair of boots scuffs closer.

“Ba’vodu…

“Udessi…” Jessa soothes, quietly trying to coax the child into just a few more minutes of blissful cuddles, “I’m right here.”

He wiggles in her grip, a giggle rising up. “Ba’vodu! Boom!”

Jessa rolls to her back bringing Kad with her. He’s off her chest and half stumbling to still-shirtless Scorch’s waiting arms.

“Boom! Boom!”

Scorch hoists the giggling child into the air. Kad squeals with delight as he’s easily caught. “Yeah, verd’ika, there’ll be some big ones tonight. I promise.”

It’s an ‘oh’ moment, a split second where Jessa realizes as many times as she’s seen the other men around her toting the kids around it’s never looked so attractive as Scorch doing it.

“Ba’vodu Mesh’la!” Kad whines and Jessa cocks her head as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s heard.

“I taught him that. You can thank me later.”

It takes a moment to realize what he’s said, and when her brain finally plays catch-up she feels her cheeks flush.

“I eat food now?” Kad is unconcerned with what is playing out as he pokes at his uncle until the bounty hunter has had enough and pretends to drop him to the ground. He catches him an inch before he hits the ground and Kad acts like it is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Another family member, Bardan, calls his name and he’s off like a shot the second his feet hit the ground without a single look back. It must be nice to be a child without a worry in the world.

Jessa pushes up, resting back on her outstretched hands. She can count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen him out of beskar, the amount of times in this state of undress less than that.

The matte grey of his pauldrons had only served to highlight how broad his shoulders truly were, and now without the added cover she can get a good impression of the muscles that moved down from those shoulders. Biceps and forearms defined by his work lead to the hands she’d mentioned earlier. He flexes his arm. Jessa’s eyes snap back to his. Caught. Scorch grins from ear to ear.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Jessa nods. The sun still has her feeling drowsy and content. “Wasn’t ready to be done with it,” she admits. He drops down to his knees and then flops lazily at her side.

“I’m not Kad, but I’ll offer myself up as a cuddle buddy.” He holds one arm up, inviting her into his personal space like the night she’d had a nightmare and he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.

A soft breeze blows cool against her exposed skin. Goosebumps rise to the surface. Jessa slides next to Scorch. It’s out of necessity, she tells herself. He’s a human furnace, suiting his name, and she was going to use that to enjoy the last bit of time she would get outside sans layer upon layer of clothing. His arm braces behind her back as she leans into his side.

“You fit good there,” he notes. Jessa says nothing. She feels good this close to him. The light scent of sweat and salt radiates from him.

“You stink,” she murmurs quietly.

“You like my stink,” he hums back. He doesn’t exactly smell bad and she doesn’t argue. She’d spent too many nights with her arms around one of his pillows, buried under his covers to deny what he said.

“What were you fighting about with Yover?” She watches him from the corner of her eye. Scorch looks out across the field, seemingly staring into nothing. There’s a boyish smirk plastered across his face that makes Jessa think all sorts of things, not least of which is what his lips might feel like if he kissed her again.

“Nothing you need worry about.”

Thankfully he’s good at chasing away her soft, reckless thought. It’s not the answer she wants and he laughs at her irritated growl. “If you keep making that sound how are people supposed to tell you and Sev’ika apart?”

She can think of a few ways, but keeps them to herself. She rolls away, putting a shred of distance between them so she can turn to look at him fully. She missed him - them - so much. Scorch opens his mouth as if to say something and then shuts it suddenly. It’s not like him. With a puff of air past his lips he flips onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Given the opportunity, Jessa seizes it. She lets her eyes rove now that he’s not watching. From his arms to his broad chest and tapered waist there is a light smattering of scars. None are particularly deep with the exception of a few to his forearms.

“I can feel you staring.” Brown eyes peek out from under his arm. “Something you like, Mesh’la?”

“You’ve got a lot of scars,” she notes, gaze not wavering from its exploration. Now that she’s begun she can’t find it in her to stop.

“Ah yes, my marks of personality.”

“Marks of…” She offers him a confused expression.

“Buir- Sarge back then, always said scars gave you personality. He helped shape our inherent charm. Have you seen Atin’s face? Vod has tons of personality.”

“Where did this scar come from?” Jessa reaches out and touches the slick looking slice on his flank. Goosebumps rise up under her fingers. A quick glance at his face shows nothing amiss.

“Sev has this great trick for slotting Trandoshans he picked up from the old man”

“But why do you have a scar?” She’s sure that her mind shouldn’t go where his words were leading it. Sev would never- well at least not Scorch, she thinks realistically.

“Spicy dreams.”

Jessa jerks. Scorch’s arm tightens around her. Sev blocks the sun from shining on the pair as he towers over the two.

“Aww Sev, was that a joke? I knew ya had it in ya.” Scorch sits up and Jessa follows, crossing her legs neatly as she does. Scorch eyes her. There must be something akin to the growing horror she was feeling painting her face because he tries to explain more.

“Sev doesn’t like to be woken from his beauty sleep.” As if to accentuate it, the man in question makes a lazy wave at his face as if to say ‘see’?

“I need every bit I can get.”

Undeterred by the look she is wearing, Scorch encourages her to stand up, giddiness and glee coloring his tone like a small child excited to show off a prized rock or funny shaped stick it had found.

“Show her!” Scorch nudges her gently until she has no choice but to stand with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a great trick.”

Sev rolls his eyes back but motions for her to stand in front of him. She’s still angry about this morning but her sense of curiosity is getting the better of her. Sev hesitates as if he knows he’s still not in her good graces but it lasts only a second before he pulls her close and spins her around. It’s a familiar position, the line of his body pressed against her back. They’ve done this once before and she flushes at the thought now of how vulnerable she’d been in the locker room and how Sev had taken care of her then.

“You ever deal with a lizard?” Sev’s voice is gruff. Jessa nods. Transdoshans made excellent slavers. Two had held her still while a fat fingered Gamorrean had branded her after she’d been bought. She presses back into Sev, seeking more of the heat he transferred without the layer of beskar between them.

“They got these… what do you call them?” He looks to Scorch.

“Plastron?”

“Like the belly of a lily turtle?” Jessa asks. “Mother kept them in the water garden.” A strange look crosses Scorch’s face as he nods at her explanation.

“Yeah, Princess, like a turtle,” Sev murmurs, reminding her how close he was. “So they’ve got these plastron across their bellies and the rest of their bodies have these thick scales that do a damn good job of blocking most sharp pointy things.” Sev’s hand comes to rest at her waist just back slightly, his thumb pressing into a spot above where she knew her kidney to sit. “Except right here, where the plastron and scales connect there is a soft spot.”

To emphasize the point, Sev presses his first two fingers into her flesh. Jessa winces and he lightens his touch enough to take the edge of the discomfort off.

“The trick Buir taught us is you’ve got to adjust your grip accordingly so when you get the chance-“ his fingers press forward, sliding along her side til they reach her belly, “you can spill their guts.”

The way he lets them sit there for a minute before he steps away makes her tummy flutter. She’s glad for the separation. Jessa folds herself faintly back into a seated position.

Curious eyes watch from afar. Jessa feels them acutely and glances past Sev. Ordo Skirata is not being covert. He holds eye contact for a second before moving on, one of his young sons clinging to his leg.

“Wonder what Ord’ika is up to?” Scorch says, more to himself than anyone.

“Better be minding his own damn business.” Sev’s voice is a reassuring growl as he flanks her other side.

——-

His belly is full of spicy skewered nerf and deliciously fatty bits of shatual. Sev has never been one to search for a buzz in the bottom of a bottle like some of his vode (Scorch included), but a bottle of sweet Ne’tra gal dangles lazily between his fingers. The abnormal heat from earlier in the day has bled away to an appropriately crisp autumn evening as the sun set an hour before. It felt good.

He alternates between staring up to the cloudless expanse of sky and taking the occasional pull from the bottle in his hand, allowing himself a moment or two to enjoy the sweet barley and hops of traditionally brewed ale. Unfettered by the light pollution of the larger Mandalorian cities to the south, the stars shine like gemstones above. It wouldn’t last long. Fireworks were coming next - Scorch had already kriffed off with Corr for last minute preparations. They’d be lucky if Doc wasn’t working on a new prosthetic by morning with those two at work.

After fireworks the kids would be shuffled off to bed and - so he was told - the real party would start. It sounded like a big excuse to drink too much and do something incredibly stupid by an open flame. Probably would be fun. He still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. He’d been through a few celebrations since being brought to Kyrimorut, but this was his first fall and Scorch had been doing his best for months to talk it up and try to get Sev as excited as he was.

He’d seen lots of things blow up in his life. From one side of the shabla galaxy to the other, he’d seen enough to consider himself an expert of sorts.

Jessa lies in the grass by his side. Her eyes are fixed on the sky above. She’s been quiet since she laid down next to him. It was wrong. She usually said something. Anything. Most times he’d have no fault in the silence, but all around them people were talking and laughing and they were just there. Being weird. Somehow he thinks it’s probably residual from this morning. He sighs heavily. Blue eyes flash out of the corner but then focus back above.

“You looking at the stars?”

Jessa makes a soft hum of agreement.

“Kriff…” he curses lowly, turning toward her, “You still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad.” And Palpatine was a well loved public figure.

“You were,” he asserts, “You looked like you were ready to slot me”

“I would never.” She finally turns, fixing him with eyes that affirm his previous assertion.

“But you wanted to.”

She sighs, rolling onto her side and tucking an arm under her head. In the growing dark with her hair spilling around her she is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally willing to admit that attraction.

“Too much beskar,” she states bluntly, “Besides, I’d miss you if you were dead.” There’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Sev feels a strange pull in his chest somewhere between asphyxiation and taking a barely controlled ascent down a fast line.

Her smile drops away. “Sev?”

“Yeah Princess?”

“If you ever do something like that again? In front of the rest of the family? I will do it.”

The bark of laughter that leaves him has heads turning all around them. Curious and concerned eyes fall on the pair. Jessa’s eyes narrow. That feeling in his chest intensifies. She looks like a pissed off loth cat waiting to attack. Fekking gorgeous.

“Roger that, Princess. I won’t even fight back.”

She softens visibly, pushing herself into a seated position only a hairs breadth away from him.

“Good.”

With that settled, the pair turn their eyes back up to the darkening sky. The silence doesn’t feel weird anymore with the issue between them blasted to dust.

Sev feels content in the moment.

The sound of the first mortar being released into the air catches his attention. The light of the small explosion comes just a few beats after in the form of neon red that lights the sky. It’s impressive. More follow at regular intervals, different colors and sizes, sounds and shapes. Like burning flowers in the night sky they flash to life only to die a few moments later. The smell of explosives rolls like a fog from the launch point to the onlookers.

Sev glances around and finds the small children staring transfixed as the fireworks erupt into life, their tiny mouths cracked in o’s of delight. He tries to remember the first time he ever saw anything explode or heard a bomb and he can’t quite place how old he must have been. He’d been fascinated, but not nearly as much as Scorch had. Scorch had been obsessed. No one loved blowing something up as much as his vod.

The next mortar explodes with all the force of a sonic boom and Sev finally notices Jessa’s stiff posture next to him, the way she twitches when each firework ignites.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The words rush out of her mouth in a way that lets him know she’s not.

“You don’t need to be scared.”

Her head swings around. “I’m not-“ A pair of twin explosions follow each other in rapid succession and she nearly comes out of her skin. Sev remembers watching another squad when they were just tiny cadets, the way they had all crowded in around a vod who obviously was having issues with the sounds, pressing in until their pod mate had calmed.

“Come here.” He motions to the spot in front of him. Jessa shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she lies again.

Sev huffs. Did she not see that he knew? Stubborn dal. He should let her stew in her own fear. That would teach her, but then he’d have to listen to a lecture from Scorch and he hated when he got lectured. Before the next can go off he leans over, closing the paltry distance between them and loops his arm around her waist. She squeaks as he pulls her effortlessly into his lap, spreading his legs and tucking her into the spot between them. She struggles for a second. He notices, not for the first time, the she never curses, not in Mando’a nor in Basic. He thinks if she did she would be right now. She squirms against him and he regrets not putting armor back on.

“Stop wiggling,” he grunts into her ear. She stills and Sev takes the opportunity to wind an arm around her and pull her tight against him. Sev doesn’t see the eyes that have followed them or the way other members of the homestead lean in to whisper to one another because Jessa is relaxing back into his grip, melding with him and his brain isn’t sure what to do. The next volley of decorative ordinance pop and she barely twitches. The purple shimmer of rhydonium paints her features in a soft glow as it fizzles out of existence.

He holds her tighter and by the round after she doesn’t move at all. Her head rocks back and rests against his shoulder. He can feel the heat of her all along the front of his body and his mind travels to places it hasn’t in ages.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she murmurs.

“If you say you were fine, I swear-“

“They kept the barracks near whatever tunnel we were working in at that time,” she begins.

Sev nods. This was a Kappa Black thing. He should have known.

“We worked in shifts. You had to try to sleep while they were blowing through the asteroid around you.”

It made sense. If you’d seen any amount of osik the galaxy had to offer you weren’t likely to leave it all behind.

“Odds are you're not gonna get blown up here.”

“How do you shut it off so easily?” She twists, glancing up at him.

“Turn off what?”

“The fear.”

Sev stops. He’s never really dwelled on it. “I don’t turn it off. I focus it. Fear is a tool.” He recites an early lesson. “It’s a blade. You either use it on your quarry or you use it on yourself. Never been much on killing myself.”

Jessa goes quiet, thoughtful. She wiggles in closer as reds and greens and blues light up the sky in front of her.

“Cold?” It seems like the right thing to say. Sev had seen a holomovie once on a stakeout that reminded him of this. He’d had to read lips because he’d been perched in a Corrie window watching it from his scope in a building two over. He got the gist of it though. Romantic osik that made him want to gag on the warra nuts he’d smuggled along. Now though it doesn’t feel nearly as unrealistic as he’d thought back then.

“Maybe a little.”

From the cargo pocket of his tac pants Sev retrieves her scarf, the same one she’d left on Scorch’s bed earlier. It’s not easy to unfurl it one handed, but he manages and drapes it over the front of them. She makes a soft sound, a sigh of contentment as she burrows under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

——

If the flames of the bonfire grow any higher, Walon is sure they’ll be able to see it from Keldabe. Not that you could tell any of the celebrating adiike that. No, drums and Bes’bev and various stringed instruments of unknown origin had been pulled out and now not only was their fire and drink but also music to go with it all.

Rav is beating out a rhythm on her bucket next to Atin, using a hide covered drum of his own making. The rest of the Bralors take turns on the winds and strings. Fi chortles out a bawdy song about a twi’lek dancer and the battalion of troopers that had loved her. Walon can make out the words “seduced by her lekku of love” before uproarious laughter drowns him out. Off to the side, Laseema rubs tears from her eyes barely able to control her laughter.

“They don’t work like that vod!” She manages to get out between giggles.

“Atin?” Someone asks. The former Commando in question offers a toothy grin but says nothing. Walon rolls his eyes. He’d like to think his adiike were better behaved, but Scorch is taking shots of ti’haar with Corr in celebration of a pyrotechnic display gone well. Sev, while not drinking like his vod is encouraging it.

“You gonna let a trooper get one up on you?”

Jessa is pressed shoulder to shoulder between the pair. Her cheeks are flushed with life and she looks happier than he’s ever seen as she fidgets with the thick braid of hair draped over her shoulder. Corr offers her a shot and she takes it like one of the Commandos. She barely flinches. Mandokarla indeed.

Even slightly inebriated himself, Walon can see Scorch’s keen gaze watch her like a mother nuna. Sev’s is more fixed on Corr. A pair of guard massiffs if he's ever seen them.

No, Walon didn’t need to worry about her overdoing it with Sev and Scorch present. Likely, he should be more concerned of their safety should they need to cut her off. The murderous look she’d given his sharpshooter this morning spoke volumes of the personality that was starting to bloom.

“Vau.” His musings are painfully disrupted by the shorter merc easing himself into a sitting position next to him.

“Skirata,” Walon greets.

“We need to talk about earlier.”

Like an obnoxious fly buzzing about, Walon tries to ignore him. Still, Kal’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his skull until, like a fly he cannot help but give him his full, irritated attention.

“You’re trying to ruin my Kyr’vhetine, aren’t you?”

Kal gives him a bemused smile that slips quickly into something more serious. Yes, he was going to ruin it.

Walon’s eyes drift to his children. The makeshift band has begun to play a song the is unmistakably Ryl. It’s heavy drum lead beat and accompanying strings lends itself for dance and Laseema throws her head back and laughs from her spot near Parja.

“Am I being called out?” She asks the group of musicians. There’s an uproarious cheer as she sets her drink down and pushes up off the makeshift log bench. “Fine then.”

Walon watches her bunch her tunic in her hand, tying the loose fabric just above her hip. Blue skin peeks out as she extends her hands at her sides and begins to dance.

Traditional Ryl dancing is almost impossible to look away from. The movements are fluid and driven by the rhythm of the music being played, steady drum beats with a mixture of plucked and strummed strings.

It’s not merely a dance but a delicate balancing act played between the musicians and the dancer. Laseema knows this game better than many he’s seen. Her hips shimmy and roll with the beat as she steps delicately about the circle of aliit. There’s cheers and hoots from the crowd and the smile that graces her face is radiant. Like so many others she had blossomed and truly begun to thrive in Kyrimorut. He was sure no small amount of that was in part to Atin. While he’d taken the Skirata name, Walon had quietly patted himself on the back for creating the man and survivor he was today.

“The auction…” Kal begins and Walon sighs deeply. From his spot at its Master’s foot, Mird glances up, tongue nearly too large for its mouth lolling out to the side. It’s warm by the fire but the strill is loathe to be anywhere Walon isn’t.

“The auction,” Walon agrees. The thought gives him a headache. A year ago he had just become reacquainted with the idea of having an ad and now here he was with three healthy, somewhat adjusted adiike. He was loathe to upset the newly formed balance, but he knew somewhere deep in his gut - as he didn’t trust his dead heart on such matters - that they needed to be part of whatever was set to happen. Each of the Cuy’val Dar sitting around the fire had trained multiple squads and so few were accounted for outside of those that had already been known to have marched on. If there were others they deserved a chance and their buir'e deserved a chance to give it to them.

Kal seems to understand he’s finally got his attention. When he speaks it’s not of someone trying to convince a friend in a fool's errand but instead a hardened mercenary beginning to plan for an op.

“We’ve got so little time to prepare. The lads will do fine but-“

Walon holds a hand up, “I know. I know.” His gaze travels over to how newest acquisition. Laseema is pulling the giggling girl to her feet while Scorch eggs her on. Sev watches with his hands on his knees. He appears relaxed, laconic, but Walon knows what lies beneath - always alert and on guard.

Laseema slows her movements, working her hips in a tight figure eight and Jessa imitates. It’s uncoordinated at first, but with each rotation she seems to sync into the music a little more, so Laseema shows her another step and then another. Parja joins the fray with absolutely no rhythm but shereshoy that cannot be argued with.

“You can’t deny that she’s our only option.”

“I never said I did.” Walon watches as Mereel enters the small fray of dancers and pulls Laseema close. Fi slides in and grabs his wife. He’s just as off rhythm as she, but they both seem oblivious to anything but one another. Jessa spins happily, the green scarf tied in a triangle at her hips twirls out like the layers of a skirt and Walon can imagine her being spun around a dance floor in another life. She’s happy and content and what is about to come could very well ruin that but she’d do it. He knew that in the same way he knew Scorch would spring to his feet the second one of Yayax squad attempted to move in her direction. Honestly, it’s astounding it takes as long as it does but after the correction earlier maybe it’s not too shocking. It’s Cov this time who gets two steps to near before Scorch is sliding in between the Yayax squad leader and the girl. Jessa only seems to see Scorch, beaming up at him as he slips in behind her.

Walon raises a brow. He hadn’t expected either of his lads to move like that.

“Sev and Scorch are not going to like this, I take?”

Walon chuckles. “I don’t imagine, but they also know their place and what an op like this means. They can give their hormones a backseat long enough to get the job done.”

“That’s going to be a mess when they work that out between them.”

From her spot pressed against Scorch’s chest Jessa finds Sev. He’s nursing another drink, only the second of the night by Walon’s assessment. She reaches out, palm up and curling her finger. Sev raises a brow and shakes his head, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Jessa sticks out her lower lip and pouts. Someone shouts about making her the filling in a commando sandwich. Kal chokes, coughing violently into his drink.

Walon’s never known Sev to willingly do something commonly perceived as fun and dancing… he imagined it would be a cold day on the plains before he’d see his Ad’ika do that.

“I don’t doubt they’ll work it out in a way all their own.”

“That’s what I worry about.”

From the corner of his eyes, Walon studies the Skirata patriarch. He considered (if only to himself) him a friend for a few years now - since Mygeeto at very least - but there was a time when he’d have happily put his fist through the other man’s orbital bone if given the chance. Sometimes he still said things that made Walon’s old arthritic knuckles ache in anticipation.

“They’re not yours to worry on. I feel you have enough without adding my adiike to your plate.”

Kal hums and Walon knows this will not be the last time he will have this conversation. The song being played ends as he’s thinking of the inevitable irritation of having to repeat himself.

“Jessa.” The girl turns her head at her buir’s sharp call of her name. Scorch’s hands tense where they rest at her hips, but she shimmies out of the bounty hunter's grip.

“Yes, buir?” The musicians are mumbling amongst themselves about what to play next.

“Naberrie Waltz.”

Confusion flitz across her face, settling along with the crinkles between her eyes.

Walon is undeterred. “Do you remember it?” Jessa nods once and Walon rises to his weary feet. Scorch hover protectively behind her. With an irritated flick of the wrist Walon shoos him away.

“Show me the waltz.”

“But the music isn’t-“

“I’m aware, Ad’ika. I’m sure your parents spent large sums of money teaching you how to do things that didn’t always fit what you wanted at the time. Has their money gone to waste?”

A bemused look crosses her face as Walon offers a hand. It’s been a long time since he’s waltzed. Far longer than his new daughter has probably been alive but the steps come back as if it was just yesterday as a light hand on her waist guides her in a slow turn. He knows eyes are on them. He can see the flash of mirth in the eyes of the other Cuy’val Dar but that is none of his concern. Jessa’s spine is straight, her head, carriage uniformly perfect. Even though the song is all wrong she doesn’t miss a step. She slipped into it as easily as he feared she would. She could do what Kal was asking, maybe not perfect but she could figure out how to play the part. He glances down and catches her wondering eyes.

“Very good, Ad’ika. Very good.”

She smiles at the praise and allows him to continue to spin her around. Sev and Scorch’s looming shadows stand at the edge of the circle. Those two weren’t going to like what was to come one bit.

———

aglist: @bylightofdawn​ @leias-left-hair-bun​ @skdubbs​ @passionofthesith​ @haloangel391​ @fractiouskat @peacelandbread​ @clonewarslover55​ @cherry-cokes-world​ @nelba​ @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie

Mando’a translation

Kyr’vhetine Tuur- harvest day (one of four Mando holidays @crimson and I dreamed up)

Mando’ade- sons and daughters of Mandalore

Adiike-children

Riddur- spouse

Din’kartay: sit-rep, or sharing of information/planning

Gett’se- balls

Nehutyc- gutsy (also feisty)

[atlene]

The Patterson Legacy -  1.1

Nothing says "2022" like a Sims 2 Legacy Challenge, right?! Just 14 years after the height of Sims 2 popularity, I am once again attempting a legacy challenge. Not that I ever really stopped... When you've been playing The Sims 2 as long as I have, you've got to come up with new ways to play and new ways of doing things. So I've downloaded Lazy Duchess's Story Progression Beta, and started a fresh game (with all of my favourite cc and mods). I rolled a d6 to decide which pre-made hood to use and I rolled Veronaville! I added Downtown, and rolled to see which University and Vacation hood(s) I would add - Sim State and all vacation hoods. I also decided to randomise the seasons and ended up with Summer, Autumn, Spring, Spring. And because I do plan to keep score in this Legacy Challenge, I picked some Handicaps - Storyteller, One Way Street, Aspiring to Do It The Hard Way, True Love, Free Roaming Ghosts, Danger Zone, and eXtreme start. (You can read more about the rules and the Handicaps in the link at the top.) I also decided to randomise my founder completely. I rolled to determine gender, skin tone, hair colour, eye colour, body shape, and used Pooklet's Townie Face Randomising method (with generators from chemtale!) to create the face. I rolled for hair style, clothes, whether they would wear jewellery or makeup or glasses etc. I even randomised the name. Our founder is Ona Patterson. (I randomly chose her awful sunglasses, ok?)

Ona is a Pisces (5/3/7/3/7) which, in Sims 2 world, means she is shy, active, serious and nice. She’s a Family Sim with the lifetime want to Have 6 Grandchildren. She’s turned on by Blue Eyes and Creativity and turned off by Green Eyes. Her top interests at the moment are Crime, Environment, Work and Fashion.

And our Pet Founder was also randomised. This is Coco Patterson. She is a tuxedo cat. She’s a Virgo, and is a Genius, Independent and Finicky. Her top interests include Sleeping and Food. (A big mood, Coco.)

The first thing Ona does is find herself a job because she has about $10 to her name and a legacy needs money! All of the jobs in the paper that day paid about the same so I rolled a die for it. She gets a job in Culinary as a Dish Washer.

Like I said, a legacy needs money! So Ona gets to digging up her enormous yard for some stuff to sell so she can afford luxuries like a fridge and a bed.

The parade of possible spouses begins! Poor Coco gets assaulted by this garden club guy Ona had no interest in.

Ona met Victor Lillard whom she had 2 bolts with. Unfortunately (or fortunately looking at that face), the True Love handicap means that Ona needs to have 3 bolts with her future spouse so Victor is out of luck and she needs to keep looking!

She may not be having luck in the romance department, but Ona is lucky enough to get promoted at work - she’s now a Drive Through Clerk, and brings home Antonio Monty. Our first glimpse of the playables in Veronaville.

Ona and Antonio have 2 bolts! But that’s not enough! And he’s a playable, so we wouldn’t be able to move him in anyway. Ona flirts a little and sends him on his way.

Victor is still trying to woo Ona, and invites her downtown. There’s no reason she and Victor can’t be friends, after all. Of course, when she turns up it appears to be an outing with Victor and all the other women he’s pursuing! He spends the whole time flirting with each of them!

Ona does get a chance to meet a few more guys, and lo and behold she has 3 bolts with Consort Capp! Again, he’s a playable so she wouldn’t be able to move him in, but I suppose he could knock her up. I’m just not too keen on having a single parent generation 1. And not too keen on that horse face haha!

Ona has been able to make a little extra money and put a roof over her head at least. The classic Legacy Shack takes form!

Ona’s firth chance card at work. The legacy rules say you can’t just ignore them, and because I like to inject randomness into my game (haven’t you noticed by now?) I rolled for it. Ona chooses to just fill the order for the obnoxious rich Landgraab kid and is rewarded with an extra $150!

After nights and nights of going downtown, searching for her True Love (...another True Love...) Ona meets Dickson Garth! He’s one of the classic Downtownies, they have 3 bolts, and they even have the same taste in awful sunglasses!

After a little getting to know each other, flirting, and some backrubs, Ona and Dickson have a solid crush on each other.

A decent start to this legacy! How quickly can Ona and Garth fall in love? More importantly, how much money will he bring in? I do love these early days of the legacy.

[doyumacy]

FALLOUT |LH| TWELVE (FINALE)

*gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of jaemin taeyong. swearing, major character death, gunshot wound, blood mentioned, grieving 

WORD COUNT: 4,6K

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN 

You groaned as, once again, you awoke sick for the fourth day.

It had been impossible to keep your breakfast down of late, and more often than not you spent most of the morning with your head in a bucket. You blamed the one week old pizza you had a week before.

That morning, Donghyuck made you your favourite breakfast before leaving with Jeno and you couldn't even have a bite. You were going to throw up again.

“Love, did I leave my phone here? I can't find it anywhere…” You heard him.

Another wave of nausea caught you, and you threw your head into the toilet. You coughed, tears in your eyes as the voice got closer. The dry heaving was almost more unpleasant than the vomiting, you lamented, leaving your throat sore and your voice hoarse.

“I am not dressed yet!” You called, not technically lying, as your pajamas clung to your body with sweat.

“I think we are past all that,” he laughed, pushing the door open.

You adjusted your pajasm as he searched, sensing the rush he was in from his near ignoring of you. "I swear I left it here before I took a shower."

He finally found it atop the mantlepiece, and turned to make a comment on it, when he noticed your appearance.

“Good god, are you okay?”

“Fine. A little nauseous, is all.”

He rushed over to you

“I think I have the stomach flu, perhaps. Stay back.”

“I likely already have it, if it is that,” he smiled. “So there is no further harm.”

"Seriously," you whined. "I don't want you to get sick."

"Are you sure you're okay? You look palid," he cupped your face.

You nodded. "Go. Jeno must be waiting for you."

Donghyuck sighed and placed a kiss on your forehead. "If by tomorrow you don't look better I'm taking you to the hospital, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Your body ached, more so than when you were PMSing. But not every month was the same, so you thought the pill was doing its secondary effects. You grabbed your birth control pill case and before taking it, you checked your last case and realised you missed a few. You cursed.

You stared at the rows upon rows of pregnancy tests. Did women actually know which one to take? Was it common knowledge knowing which one was the best? You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You were probably overreacting. You grabbed the pink one off the shelf. It wasn’t the cheapest one, but it was a brand you remembered from commercials. You stopped by the snack stand and picked up a bar of your peanut butter and chocolate. You always hated peanut butter. Shit. You dropped the bar chocolate and sat down on the counter. The woman at the checkout rang them through and gave you the total.

You held up your bank card, “Credit.”

She nodded and pressed the button. You inserted the card into the machine, went through the motions of inputting your password and checking the account type.

“Would you like a bag?” The woman asked as you waited for the transaction to clear.

You shook your head, “No thank you.”

She handed you the two items and the receipt. You dropped them down into your purse. You exited the drug store and stood on the street corner for a minute. You couldn’t do this alone. You needed some guidance. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted Lena.

Can I call you? You pressed send and began walking home.

You recounted the last few times you and Donghyuck had sex. You ran your fingers through your hair, so many times. Your phone rang in your hand and Lena's caller ID showed up.

You smiled, “Hey girl.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” She cut right to the chase.

You thought about lying, just to spite her but you two knew each other so well that it wasn’t a surprise that she’d picked up on your worries early on.

“I bought a test.” You explained.

She squealed into the phone and you had to pull it away while she freaked out. You laughed at her reaction. Your nerves settle the tiniest bit. She already had Minah. She knew exactly what to expect. You unlocked your front door and lined it for the couch.

“Ok.” She settled in as you entered your house, “Take the test right now.”

You shook your head, “Isn’t it better to take it in the morning? I swear I heard that somewhere before.”

“Pff if you’re pregnant it doesn’t matter what time of day you take the test.” She explained.

You rolled your eyes, of course she knew best, she was a doctor and a mom after all.

“How am I supposed to pee on a stick and hold the phone at the same time?” You joked.

You heard a door shut on her end, “Put the phone down, pee on the stick and come back.”

You groaned. What if you really were pregnant? You were happy but scared at the same time. This wasn’t something you’ve ever had to deal with.

“Alright.” You said.

You placed the phone down on the table and pulled the test out of your purse. You went into the bathroom, ripped the box open, ignored the instructions and made sure that the bristles were in place. You frowned, this was almost as awkward as peeing in a cup.

You placed the phone down on the table and pulled the test out of your purse. You went into the bathroom, ripped the box open, ignored the instructions and made sure that the bristles were in place. You frowned, this was almost as awkward as peeing in a cup. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt weird about the whole thing. Lena was willingly waiting for you to pee on a stick. You set the test on the corner of the sink, finished your business and pulled up your pants. You pushed the cap over the bristled part of the test and then washed your hands. You grabbed the instructions and test as you went back to the living room. You glanced at the clock. It was only 10:30 in the morning. Donghyuck wouldn’t be home for another few hours.

You picked up the phone, “It’s done.”

“Yay!” Lena laughed. “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell Donghyuck?”

You shrugged, “No. I don’t even know if this is real yet. I could just be overreacting.”

“You wouldn’t have called me if you thought this was a false alarm.” She stated.

You groaned, “Ugh.”

Why was she always right? She laughed again. She distracted you with mindless prattle while you waited the three minutes for the test to finish. You left it sitting on the coffee table, upside down because you still didn’t know if you were prepared for the outcome.

“Three minutes.” Lena announced.

You took a deep breath and gingerly picked up the test. You flipped it over and creased your eyebrows in confusion.

“Uh – it has one solid line and one really faint one.” You told her.

You pulled out the instructions pamphlet and began scanning through. It mentioned that two solid lines mean pregnant but it made no mention of a solid first line and faint second one. Were all the tests this finicky?

“That’s exactly what it looked like when I was pregnant with Minah.” She advised.

You shook your head, “This doesn’t make any sense. The booklet distinctly says that you have to have two solid lines. Not one solid and one barely there.”

She chuckled at your denial, “Y/N you’re pregnant.”

“That’s not what the booklet says!” You fought back.

“You’re pregnant.” Lena said again.

You paused and then all the excitement of being pregnant caught up with you. Tears formed at your eyes.

“I’m pregnant.” You whispered. “I'm pregnant!” You screamed. “Oh my god. Oh my god! How am I going to tell Hyuck?"

“Do something cute, like put the test in a pan and put the pan in the oven.” Lena offered, “Symbolically tell him you have a ‘bun in the oven.’”

You burst into laughter, “Isn’t that sort of stuff reserved for people planning on these things? This wasn’t exactly on our list of to-dos.”

You both broke into giggles. This was absurd and exhilarating all at once. You never expected to ever be a parent. It wasn’t something you thought you had in you. Now that you were pregnant, and with Donghyuck, you’d never felt more ready. The two of you could do this.

You took a deep breath and then blew it out through tight lips, “He’s not going to be home until after 7. I can’t wait that long.”

“Mull it over. He loves you, remember that.” She gave me a minor pep talk, “Oh, and guys handle these things differently. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded, “Alright. Thanks Lena.”

“No problem. You have to call me and tell me how he reacts.” She demanded.

I laughed at her, “I will.”

“Alright girl, I’ve got to go. I’ve been paged five times now.” She spoke swiftly and then hung up.

You dropped your phone down onto the coffee table and turned the TV on. You had no idea how you were going to tell Donghyuck. This was definitely not something either of you had talked about.

(...)

He’d been home for at least an hour now. The two of you were just sitting on the couch, watching TV. You couldn’t concentrate on the show because there was so much going on in your mind. Your face was hot and a blush was covering your entire body. You had no idea why but you felt embarrassed. You hadn’t even said or done anything yet. The tension in your body was building and you were starting to freak out. What if he had a horrible reaction? You never did talk about this. It wasn’t in the plans. Shit! You needed to get out of your head. You couldn’t start making things up. He didn’t even know yet. You tucked your feet underneath you and cradled the throw cushion into your stomach. You felt safer, almost like you were hiding your secret.

“Baby…” You murmured.

He glanced over at you, “Yeah.”

“We need to talk.” You said, immediately regretting your choice of words.

Now he probably thought you were breaking up with him. How did other people do this? This was the hardest conversation you’d ever had to have in your life. He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to speak. You opened your mouth but stopped. You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was thudding in your chest and the adrenaline soared through your body.

"(Y/N)?" Donghyuck kept staring at you. "What is it?"

"Uhm..." you scratched the back of your neck. "I, I don't want to eat shrimp in our wedding."

He stared at you for a couple of seconds. "That is it?" You nodded, swallowing. "Baby, we can eat whatever we want in our wedding."

You hated yourself for lying to him. "I just... heard you say to Jeno you really love shrimp and I don't, so..."

"I don't really mind, love," he pecked you. "If you want to have tacos, then we'll have tacos."

You smiled. "Okay."

"Okay." He kissed you.

You couldn’t do it. You were too nervous.

(...)

You were all together in the cabin you rented, sitting around the coffee table filled with food and drinks.

“So, when's the wedding?” Jaemin asked, having a sip of his beer.

“Uh we still haven't set a date, but I hope it's soon,” Donghyuck replied and smiled.

“Hurry up before my baby bump starts showing!” Lena laughed. "And others things too." She glanced at you. You ignored her.

“Are you pregnant again?” Taeyong looked at her.

She nodded. "Yup, baby number two is coming next winter."

"Hey, congrats," Jaemin smiled. "I bet Hoseok is thrilled."

"He is, he wants twins," Lena rolled his eyes. "As if one wasn't enough."

Donghyuck giggled. "I'd love to have twins one day."

"You see, (Y/N)? Give him babies soon!" Lena smiled.

You rolled your eyes and Donghyuck put an arm around your shoulder. "We'll have kids as soon as we get married."

"You don't even hate a date yet," Jaemin mocked him.

You didn't know when Jaemin and Donghyuck became so close that they would bicker jokingly so often. And you found it funny, but that day you were nervous because you had to tell him you were pregnant. He deserved to know.

Taeyong tilted his head to the side, examining you. You looked different, your body seemed different. And the way you wouldn't look Donghyuck in the eye he could tell you were hiding something.

Then he knew. You were pregnant.

Later that night, you were doing the dishes when Taeyong showed up in the kitchen. He smiled at you as he poured  some water in a glass. He stood next to you, leaning against the counter. “How long are you?”

“Excuse me?” You looked at him.

He cocked his head cutely, smiling. “If I’m not wrong you’re pregnant, right?”

You sighed and nodded. “How did you know? Did Lena tell you? I’m gonna kill her.” You hissed.

Taeyong chuckled and shook his head. “I had a slight suspicion since the last time I saw you.”

You pressed your lips together. “6 weeks.”

“And… are we happy?” He rested his hand on yours.

“I am, I’m just nervous,” you let out an awe sigh. “I know he’s gonna be all happy, but still, it’s unexpected.”

“You’ll be fine.” Taeyong assured you. “Everything will be fine.”

“Promise?”

“When have I ever lied to you?” He cocked an eyebrow.

You giggled. “Never.”

“See?” Taeyong smiled. “Come here.” He pulled you close to him and hugged you. “I’ll always be by your side.”

(...)

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Jaemin asked.

Donghyuck's eyes lit up, “There are several things we could do, how physical would we like to get?”

There was an extremely varied pool of answers. Jaemin and Donghyuck wanted it to be as extreme as they could get. You seemed anxious about what ‘physical’ would entail as physical usually also corresponded with danger.

Taeyong thought for a moment before recommending, “Why don’t we go down to the lake? It can be as low key or high key as people want, and there are some very pretty places nearby if people would not like to participate in the lake.”

Jaemin nodded, “Sounds fine to me.”

Lena whispered something to you and when they nodded Donghyuck's eyes lit up, “we're in as well.”

The next morning , you decided to make sandwiches for your trip later in the day while everyone cleaned up from breakfast, and then everyone left to go get dressed. Donghyuck put on their bathing suit underneath so he could easily change in and out of it, and grabbed their pair of sunglasses. He went out to the main area of the cabin to gather up the towels.

Taeyong arrived a few moments later, he had a sunhat on with round black sunglasses on. "Is everyone ready?"

Jaemin nodded. "We better go!"

The walk down to the lake was surprisingly calm, it was still morning and the birds were chirping, hidden in the trees, and the occasional butterfly would flutter across their path. The lake was stunning when you arrived. It was a large tranquil body of water which seemed to absorb the sun to show every possible shade of blue, and reflected it at just the right points so the ripples glinted and gleamed.

Donghyuck immediately tore off his shirt and sprinted for the dock as Jaemin and Taeyong followed him. Lena and you sat on the edge of the dock.

In the field there was laughter and joy, the three of them wove crowns and bracelets for each other.

"Why haven't you told him yet?" Lena queried.

You shrugged. "Becuase I'm dumb."

"Yeah, I know," she giggled. "You need to tell him before he realises it."

You sighed. "I'm gonna do it tonight."

She smiled. "Finally!"

"It's so cold." you said hugging yourself tighter.

Donghyuck grinned, scrunching his nose. "If you get in the water you'll get warm."

You rolled your eyes again. "You're not getting me into the lake."

Donghyuck pouted. "You sure, love?" He asked, batting his eyes.

You crossed your arms nodding your head. You didn't notice the way his arms snaked around your legs, having a slightly good hold on you. "I hoped you'd say that." Donghyuck had an evil smile on his face, causing you to look confused.

"I didn't say any- ahh!" Before you knew it, you were pulled into the lake.

When you broke to the surface Donghyuck was already waiting for you. You moved the hair from your face and glared at him. "Hyuck!" You yelled slamming your fists into the water. Donghyuck broke into a laughing fit. You glared at him, crossing your arms and turning away with a small 'Hmph!' Donghyuck was still laughing just a bit, before swimming up behind you. "Aw come on love, you can't be mad at me." He said wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. You weren't mad, but you wanted to tease him a bit. "Let go off of me."

"No," you felt him smile on your shoulder before he kissed it.

You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you." He kissed your cheek. "I love you more than anything, you know?"

"I know," you smiled, caressing his arms . "But I like when you say it."

"I love you," he turned you and kissed you. "I can't wait for you to have my babies."

"Hyuck..." You looked at him. "You need to know something."

"What is it?" He stroked your cheek.

You opened your mouth but Jaemin called you two interrupted. You shook your head. "Let's go before he goes crazy. I'll tell you later."

"Alright, love."

(...)

"Please repeat again why did we need your private jet to come all the way here, Taeyong?" Lena questioned him.

"It was an 8 hour ride. I was not going to drive," He shrugged.

Jaemin laughed. "I could've drove."

"You're not the best at driving," you teased and everyone laughed.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," Jaemin rolled his eyes.

You all were in a suv on your way to the hangar where Taeyong's private jet was. You were coming back to the city after spending a few days out of town.

You didn't tell Donghyuck that you were pregnant since you weren't alone and when you have time for yourselves, he fell asleep. So you decided to tell him as soon as you two were home. It would be better.

After you arrived at the hangar destination, you got off of the car and grabbed your belongings. All of you went to the airstrip where the jet was already waiting for you. Everyone started to board the plane when Donghyuck let go off your hand. You looked at him. "I think I left my wallet in the car. I'll be right back."

"I'm gonna wait for you here," you say nicely.

He nodded and walked back in the hangar where the black suv was. He found his wallet underneath the pilot's seat and took it. He started walking towards the plane again and smiled when he saw you on the staircase. God, he was so in love with you.

A deafening sound echoed in his ears.

He blinked.

Donghyuck could you see running towards him - almost in slow motion - you were mouthing something and staring at him with fear, pain and… shock in your eyes.

Why were you shocked?

The right side of his chest felt sticky, and cold but warm in the middle. Weirdly warm. But it was not warm, it was hot and it hurt. Not like a punch. It was more like a pinch, that was blossoming into a cramp - a horrible, numbing cramp.

He was feeling light-headed and the cramp in his chest was getting worse. You were getting closer, but the distance between you two was considerable.

Another bang reached his ears a second later, it was loud, deafening, it made his ears ring. He stepped, no, stumbled to the side. Turning his head to see you, the look of acknowledgement and horror on your face.

He felt his blood on his hands, the heat and pain building up in his chest, the warmth of the sun seeping into his back. His knees gave way and he started falling backwards as his hand stretched out towards you.

His head hit the pavement with a startling thud and it felt strangely numb, he could hear you yelling for an ambulance. He blinked, closed his eyes for a second and suddenly you were there above him. You were cradling his face, saying something, tapping his face too hard.

"Hyuck!"

"-pen your eyes!"

"Come on Hyuck Please! Don't do this!"

"Babe, love, Donghyuck! You're okay, you're alright, you're gonna be fine. Please stay with me."

His back arched and he tried to curl onto his side and make the pain go away. His blood was still pouring out of him like a grotesque tap that couldn't be turned off.

"I-I love s-so m-uch. Y-you're t-the b-est t-thing t-that happened t-to m-me" He rambled.

"Don't do that. Don't say goodbye," you spoke, your voice cracking as a few stray tears fell from your eyes.

The blood that was coating his throat started clogging it instead and he couldn't breathe.

"You are going to be fin-" he choked

"It won't" You cut him off. "Hyuck, please. I'm pregnant, we're gonna have a kid. You're gonna be a dad. The best."

He tried to smile and looked at you weakly. "Take c-care o-of t-them, okay? I-I l-love yo-"

He was cut off by the blood in his throat that he coughed out onto his chin. The pain was spreading everywhere and numbing his brain.

And he took his last breath. He was smiling up at you.

“No. No! I’m not losing you! Donghyuck! I just got you! I'm not losing you! I’m not losing you… I’m not losing you.” You cried as you frantically shook him trying to bring him back to life but to no avail.

He was gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to marry Donghyuck and raise your kid together. And two stray bullets weren't supposed to have struck in your fiancé's chest.

You weren't supposed to be trembling in front of the small white tombstone etched with the name Lee Donghyuck, but it was happening anyway.

You just wanted him to hold you; to tell you that everything happens for a reason, as he always did. You imagined him wrapping his arms around your waist like he always had, the way you now held yourself, alone.

Furiously wiping the tears from under your eyes,you began to make your way to your real destination from the graveyard. As you opened the door to the small doctor’s office, she gave you a soft sympathetic smile.

“Come on in, let’s see how your little bean is holding up.”

You nodded, sitting on the sturdy table for examinations in the back of the small office. You didn’t really notice the colors on the walls anymore, your eyes skipping over the medical tools meticulously lined up in the doctor’s preference of order.

You were four months along.

“Everything seems to be going well with the baby. But Y/N, you know that you need to eat more. It isn’t safe.”

Safe. That word didn’t seem real to you anymore.

“Are you hearing me? Please, I don’t like you living alone.”

You nodded. "I'll try."

(...)

Time went on. You were slowly running out of tears to cry around the eight month of your pregnancy. You still stopped by the graveyard to say hello to Donghyuck.

When she got back to your house, you found Taeyong parking outside. He had always been kind to you, respecting your space and distance.

“Hey you,” he greeted you smiling.

"Hi," you greeted back.

"I brought you some lunch."

You smiled politely. "Let 's go inside. I'm cold."

You got inside your house and went to the kitchen. Taeyong placed the food containers on the table. "How's the baby?"

"They're fine," you smirked. "Although I get heartburns very easily."

He nodded. "I'm glad you're doing better."

You sighed. "I'm... trying."

"And you know I'm here to help."

"I know."

You suddenly let out a low groan. He turned to you abruptly. “Are you okay, is the baby alright?” Taeyong, with a panicked look on his face.

“Umm, I think...I think I’m having contractions.”

It took a minute for this to process with him. "Okay, okay.. Okay, I'm gonna take you to the hospital? Okay?"

You nodded. "Is too soon, oh My God."

(...)

Taeyong ran his hand through his hair for what seemed like the millionth time as he paced in the waiting room.

He glanced down the hall where he knew your room was. He got called by a nurse. He went to your room and saw you connected to a lot of medical stuff and his heart ached.

You were in pain and when you saw him, you reached for his hand. Taeyong, grabbing your hand not even caring about your tight grip as he kissed your head, sweat be damned.

“(Y/N) ...it’s almost time for you to push, waiting any longer will mean an even greater risk for your baby.”

You nodded but let out a shuddering breath.

As nurses started coming into the room, he pressed another kiss to your head.

“You can do this.” He whispered.

Minutes later, you began to push.

He looked back at the baby girl. She was beautiful. And so small.

Taeyong looked up.

“She’s a fighter, just like his dad..”

Tears filled your eyes again.

Taeyong knew he wouldn't go anywhere, not since he had you all from himself and had gotten rid of Donghyuck.

He smiled, holding the baby. He was a dad.

Alternate ending is finally here !!

[kieraelieson]

Centaur AU 5

To say Thomas worried the rest of the day would be an understatement. He tried to keep it to himself, but it must have been palpable, since Roman came into the stable bright and happy, and his smile dropped immediately. His eyes went wide, clearly sending messages to the others, but he didn’t say a word until his jockey was gone.

“What happened?!”

“It’s not that much to be concerned about,” Logan said. “My legs are hurting, nothing more.”

“The vet has been called at least!” Roman said, a flash of anger in his eyes. “If—“ his words fizzled out as he turned to see Thomas.

“No, no, Thomas called the vet. She’s coming tonight to help,” Patton said, his tone calming.

“Well,” Roman looked like the wind had been taken out of him. “Good.”

And that somehow reminded Thomas. The very visit probably wouldn’t be over in a few minutes, he would be late to get home again. He was now Extremely glad he’d gotten a cell phone for Remy. Perhaps after a month or so he could afford one for Emile too.

He went to the phone, ignoring the quiet talking from the others.

Remy didn’t pick up right away, and Thomas called a second time.

“Look, I don’t know who you are—“

“Remy, it’s Thomas.”

“Oh. Sorry, this is a weird number. Wait—- don’t tell me you got lost this time!” Remy laughed. “Emile! You’ve got to hear this!”

“No, no, Remy, I’m not lost, I’m still at work. I just called to say I’ll probably have to stay late again.”

There was a vague, displeased grunt. “What, overtime twice in a row? You did negotiate for overtime pay, right?”

Thomas sighed. “No, I’m not sure I’m even getting paid at all for it.”

“What?!” Remy yelled. “Thomas, you are A Doormat!” The sound went a little fainter. “Emile, tell him! He’s not even getting paid for staying late!”

“Really, Thomas, you do need to stand up for yourself in terms of fair payment,” Emile said.

Thomas chuckled slightly, sighing. “I know. I really do. This is just more important than that. I’ll explain when I get home, and I’ll even try to figure out a way to renegotiate.”

“We’ll hold you to that,” Remy promised.

“Be safe and reasonable,” Emile said. “If you get very tired, it may be better to quit before your task is complete or to stay the night there.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” Thomas said. “Love you guys.”

“Yeah, yeah, all the mushy ‘we love you too’,” Remy said distantly before hanging up.

Thomas smiled a bit. He really missed them, even though it’d only been a few days, they seemed really long.

And then he heard a car stop and a door shut. Hopefully that was the vet.

He turned to offer his most reassuring smile to the centaurs before going out to meet her.

“Oh, hello, are you Thomas?”

“I am, yes, and I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Dr. Avery. Would you help me carry some things?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not surprised something finally happened,” Dr. Avery said, her tone rather annoyed. “I’ve been saying all you recent grooms are lazy and uneducated.”

Thomas tried not to take offense, but really, he was undereducated. He hadn’t had barely an idea of what to do.

“For a centaur like that one you need to be applying liniment all the time, and keep support for his legs between, and he really ought not to be sleeping standing.”

Thomas nodded, extremely glad for the information, though a part of him grated against the tone it was delivered in.

“And he really needs some kinds of exercise other than those competitions. Without the variety, eventually he’ll be unable to do anything else. Maybe it’s even too late already.”

Thomas nodded again.

They entered the stable, and the silence was almost oppressive. All four centaurs stared intently at them, very still, and not making a single sound, not even in response to Thomas’s small smile.

Dr. Avery went right into Logan’s stall, and he narrowed his eyes at her slightly before moving into the middle of the stall, crossing his arms and staring firmly at the wall. It somehow cut into Thomas to see it. As if the vet visiting was something that had happened long ago, and ended very unpleasantly, and this was some sort of unpleasant truce. But he didn’t know what to do about it. He, they all needed a vet, and he strongly doubted he would be able to call his vet. There would be so much paperwork, even just to begin, and Logan was hurt now. Not to mention that the owners might well hate the idea of switching vets.

Dr. Avery unwrapped Logan’s legs and ran her hands carefully over them, making small displeased noises as she found… whatever she was finding.

“Thomas, go out to my truck, there’s a portable x-ray machine. Bring it here.”

Thomas ran to obey quickly.

The vet examined each of Logan’s legs very carefully, and then studied the x-rays, frowning intently, but not saying much. Thomas felt like his breath was held the entire time, waiting on the professional judgement.

“Well, first of all,” she said, still staring at the papers.

Thomas nodded quickly. “Yes?”

“This is going to be expensive to treat,” she said, her tone sour. “There are a number of faint cracks in the cannon bones. I’m quite frankly shocked he hasn’t broken his legs. He needs to stay off his feet as much as possible, and his legs need support, as well as dietary supplements to build up the bones again. He will not be able to participate in any of those competitions whatsoever for 12 weeks at the very least.”

Thomas nodded firmly. He was sure… well, he was desperately hopeful that the Authiers would pay for it.

“But on top of that the mental aspect cannot be discounted. I’ve known this centaur for quite a few years. It will be a long, and painful recovery, if it’s handled just right. I don’t think he’ll pull through it. Centaurs are finicky like that once injured.”

Thomas felt as though she’d managed to slap them all in the face, and Logan at least twice. He wasn’t sure if he was more shocked or angry.

“Add all that to the likelihood that he won’t be able to do many competitions afterwards even if he did somehow pull through it, and from the inactivity his muscles will be atrophied, he won’t be the same for… perhaps six months or more. I don’t know that you’ll, or rather, that the Authiers would find it worthwhile to keep him around anymore.”

Thomas felt like he might fall over. His voice came out squeaky and faint. “Are-- are you seriously suggesting that---”

“Putting him down. Yes.”

There was a choked sound from Patton, who looked both absolutely terrified and like he might throw up. Thomas wondered if he looked the same way. There was suddenly a scream.

“NO!” Virgil had reared up and kicked the door, hard.

Dr. Avery paled. “Why is he loose like that?! That is a violent centaur!”

Thomas, in what was probably a powerful move Emile would berate him for later, managed to shove everything down all at once and put on a conciliatory smile.

“Thank you so much for coming. I will talk to the Authiers, and call you again with their decision. If you leave, it will be easier to get him under control again.”

Virgil was still screaming, the sound more animal than human, and the stall door would not hold much longer.

“That’s at least a three man job! I’ll get the tranquilizers.”

“No.” Thomas said firmly. “Please leave. Now.”

Dr. Avery shook her head like he was crazy, but grabbed her stuff and left.

Thomas shut the stable door, and then heard a cracking of wood. In seconds Virgil was in front of him, rearing up threateningly. If he hadn’t already so far detached himself from the situation, Thomas might have screamed. And then he would have most assuredly died. But he didn’t, he raised his hands slowly and silently in surrender.

“You won’t touch him!” Virgil screamed.

“Virgil, please. I swear to you I will never let anything like that happen to Logan. I swear. I will do everything I possibly can, and if that doesn’t work I’d kidnap him before I let someone kill him. I promise Virgil, everything I can, I will do to make him safe. I promise. Please. Please walk back to your stall. Or to Logan’s. I’m sure he would appreciate you with him.”

It was as if dark clouds started to be blown away as Virgil stood down, taking a step back and turning to look at Logan.

Thomas collapsed to his knees, suddenly sobbing.

Something was going on, but he didn’t know what, only that his breath was coming short and he couldn’t stop himself, nearly curled up in a ball, heavy sobs wracking his body. And then strong arms picking him up and holding him in a hug.

“It’s alright. Everyone’s safe for now.” Someone said. “You did the best you could.”

Thomas tried hard to stop crying. He needed to be the strong one. He needed to fix everything. “I’m so-sorry, I’m trying.”

“It’s alright. We’re all alright for now. Let it out now.”

Thomas slowly managed to regain some kind of composure, and realized that Roman was holding him, knelt down on the floor with him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. You- you shouldn’t have to--”

He was cut off and surprised by Roman squeezing him in a tight hug. “Thomas, you’re giving us the best you have. Thank you. It’s enough.”

And somehow that made him want to cry all over again. Not the same desperate sobs, but it still made him sniff, and quite a few more tears ran down his face. “Thank you, Roman.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, his voice quiet and low. “Did-- did you mean what you said?”

Thomas nodded firmly. “I’ll never just stand by while they kill someone. Especially not for being hurt.”

Patton burst into tears, which, judging by his wet face, were not the first by far.

“Is Logan ok?” Thomas asked.

Virgil looked up at Logan’s face, which he could see from his place snugged up against his side. “He’s out.”

It took Thomas a second while his brain screamed ‘he passed out???’ to realize Virgil probably meant he was heavily dissociated. Thomas couldn’t blame him. But… this was probably what the vet meant about centaur’s and their minds once they got injured. It wasn’t their fault, it was a whole life long of trauma. But for Logan to get well again he would have to be present.

But not yet. He deserved to calmly make his way back. He deserved… anything, after being talked about like that. Someone literally threatened to kill him while he stood there listening! Thomas felt anger rising up in him, bringing with it a rush of heat and energy. He was calling the Authiers. And he was not taking no for an answer.

He took the phone with him into the closet, where he couldn’t be so easily overheard. None of them deserved any more bad news.

“Hello?” A familiar voice asked, with loud music in the background. It was the woman who had hired him, and he felt bad to say, he didn’t remember her first name.

“Hello, Mrs. Authier, it’s Thomas Sanders.”

“Oh, Thomas! Do you need something?”

He was going to have to phrase this right if he had much hope. “I’ve been looking into the things that the other grooms did, and I’ve found several problems.”

“Uh huh. Well give me the quick version, I’m a bit busy.”

Thomas took a deep breath. “One of the centaurs needs medical care, and I need more time here. I’d like to be hired full-time, and be able to bring things over here to stay.”

“Oh, that was excellently quick. Is that everything?”

“Um, yes?”

“Great. I’ll give you an empty check for the medical care, and send my lawyer to talk with you in the morning about rearranging the schedule. Are we good now?”

“I… yes. I think so.”

“Great! There’s a party up at the main house, and it’ll go most of the night if you want to join.”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Call anytime, you’re a good summarizer!”

And then she hung up. Thomas was dumbfounded. It was entirely not how he’d expected it to go at all. He was wondering more and more what kind of crazy people he was working for.

He called Dr. Avery, and went to voicemail, which he preferred quite a bit. “Mrs. Authier approved the medical treatment. If you can come in the morning and give me care instructions, I’ll do my best to be sure they’re followed.”

And then Thomas let out a long, relieved sigh. He came out of the closet to many tense faces.

“She said yes. We’re going to treat Logan, and help him the best we can.”

Roman and Virgil sighed in relief, and Patton nearly cried again. “Oh, thank goodness!”

“And,” Thomas said, and suddenly had all eyes fixed on him again. “I think, I might be moving to stay here. Would that be alright with you guys?”

There was a strange silence.

“Well, what we think about it wouldn’t really change anything,” Roman said.

“Of course we’d love to have you!” Patton said, overlapping Roman’s words.

Thomas nodded solemnly. He could understand if they didn’t want him here. They barely knew him, and it’d take away the privacy they had at nighttime.

“Well, for tonight then, I need to wrap up Logan’s legs again, and probably after all that mess Virgil at least could use a brushing down. Would that be alright?”

Thomas looked mostly at Virgil, who nodded, but reluctantly, and didn’t meet his gaze.

And Thomas had to admit, even with the exhausted numbness settling over him, he was scared to be between Logan and Virgil, even though he knew, and they knew too, that he was only trying to help. Logan was still almost frozen, a glazed look in his eyes as he turned lazily to watch Thomas.

Thomas ran a hand gently over Logan’s flank, and over again. He didn’t know if Logan would appreciate petting or if he’d be annoyed or insulted by it. He just wanted to find some way to help, and to perhaps comfort and reassure a bit.

“I’m really sorry. If I’d known what she was going to say I would’ve had her outside to talk.”

Logan didn’t respond at all.

Thomas tried giving a rather wry smile, but it fell a bit flat.

“If you’d come out of this stall, Virgil, it’d be easier for me to brush you,” Thomas said, turning and going back to the closet to get a curry comb.

Virgil was standing in his own stall when Thomas came back out, and he was standing stiffly, his eyes darting around a bit, though he turned his head away to make it less obvious. Thomas wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he didn’t blame him. He felt antsy and jittery himself, and just wanted to get done and get home.

But as he entered the stall Virgil stepped away from him. “I’m sorry. F-for earlier. I-I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s alright,” Thomas said, raising the brush. “Just stand still now and we’ll be good.”

Virgil flinched back and away, holding his arms close to his chest, a wide-eyed scared look on his face. It finally registered to Thomas that something more was wrong than just fading adrenaline.

“Virgil, I’m tired and kinda crashing, it’s making me kind of dumb, and I’m gonna need you to communicate here with me, ok? What’s wrong?”

Virgil’s eyes flicked to the curry comb, but he didn’t say anything. A tremor started and ran over his body.

Patton came to the rescue, leaning over the walls.

“Virgil doesn’t like that brush.”

Thomas frowned down at the innocent curry comb. “It’s no worse than any other brush, Virgil.”

“It hurts! Especially when you’re mad or tired.” Virgil blurted out, shutting his mouth immediately after as if he’d said something bad.

The only way this kind of brush would hurt was if it was practically slapped against…. who was Thomas kidding, with the rampant abuse, it was incredibly likely that exactly that had happened.

“It wouldn’t hurt if it’s done properly,” Thomas promised. “Would you let me try? If it hurts you I promise I’ll go back and get your favorite one instead.”

“You promise?”

Thomas nodded firmly. “I promise.”

Virgil shook his head, a tremor running down his whole body. “Promises break.”

Thomas thought about it for a minute, and then went out and grabbed a lead rope, tying one end around his wrist.

“Do you trust Patton? The whole time I’m brushing you he can hold the other end of this rope, and the instant it hurts you he can pull my hand back.”

Virgil looked to Patton, who seemed more than a little nervous about the idea, but still nodded and accepted the end of the rope.

“O-ok.”

Thomas gently set the brush against Virgil’s side, waiting for the flinch and shiver to die down a little before he moved the brush at all. Virgil was all covered in sweat, and Thomas tried to move just right to get it off without moving too quickly and startling him.

He was a little surprised, but also a little not, that by the time he’d finished one side Virgil was relaxing into it. It must feel good to finally reach through all the hair and get properly brushed, and to get really clean.

He’d just wanted to get home a bit ago, but this was more important. It wasn’t just brushing down a centaur, it was getting Virgil to trust him, to trust brushes. It was healthy for Virgil’s coat too. And probably it was helping relax a lot of stressors for him. He needed it, far more that Thomas needed to get home. So he took his time, did it the best way, which also happened to take a long time.

And once he was done Virgil was so relaxed his eyes were drifting shut.

“There. You did very well, Virgil. And thank you for helping, Patton.”

Patton smiled and yawned. “You’re welcome, Thomas.”

“I’ll probably head home now. Is there anything else any of you need?”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Logan said, startling Thomas by speaking.

“Yes?”

Logan just gave a small nod, as if that meant something to him. “Thank you.”

Thomas nodded. “You’re welcome.”

He closed stall doors and turned off all the lights but one, finally leaving. When he got home, for some reason, he didn’t go into the house, he went into the stable. Only barely awake, he dropped onto the hay next to where Emile was stretched out, laying prone.

“Thomas?”

Thomas gave a weak grunt in acknowledgement before falling asleep.

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Don’t Breathe 5.5 | sneak peek

»Genre: hitman!au || angst, fluff ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of borderline Stockholm syndrome and Lima syndrome, brief mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, mental trauma mentioned, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DO NOT love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it? He couldn’t do it.

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0 - pt.5.5 - pt.6.0

author’s note: if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please comment on this post or send an ask~💖 p.s prepare the tissues😭🤧

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms​ @komorebi-unnie​ @tangledsparkles​@yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) @sarzkh31​

Release Date: 09/06/20🌻 -

His hands naturally settle on your waist, as if you were greeting him after a long day from work. It feels as perfect as always, he wants to make it last. If this is the last five minute he gets to have with you, he wants to savor how you feel, how you make him feel. He’ll miss this, the touching, the chemistry that you put into words so perfectly. Your hands that grab at him when he’s in bed, the eyes that linger on him when he cooks, life won’t feel the same without that. The late nights of sweet breathless pants meeting his ears, the warm strain in his body that grants you both a fleeting moment of ecstasy. Gritted teeth, knitted brows, smiles, keening into your chest—intimacy. The frosting you put on his nose, the stumbling in the yard to run away from him, the joyous laughter over movies. He never had fun with anyone the way he did with you.

“Taehyung,” You break the kiss, getting off of your tippy-toes to rest your ankle,“I don’t know what’s going on...” You lean into him, breathing in his sweet scent and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, I saw you got hurt and I didn’t know how bad it was,” He smooths your hair down, “I couldn’t sleep last night, I didn’t think he’d let me see you again.”

“Let you see me?...

He loves you too much to make you run for the rest of your life, and you know it.

*

*

*

“I was in a room a the whole time. I was given food and water, I showered everyday, the conditions were sanitary...But I never saw anyone.”

That was your day in interrogation room 2. They apologized for having to bring you back but they needed to tape your testimony for Leu’s court case. The video will be shown in court to further prove the damage to the only surviving victim, you. The young lawyer on the case in your defense, Jeon Jungkook, wanted to question you with Yoongi by his side. It worked out, you had an appointment with your therapist that day so you figured you’d get it over with.

“So,” Jungkook continues to jot points down on the notepad, “the bruises that were fading on your wrists the day you were rescued, that was from being tied up at some point?”

You nod, hands finicky in your lap.

“Can you tell me about the day you were abducted?”

“I- Um...That day I got home kind of late, I was really tired so after I showered I drank something and went to bed.”

“The drink was confirmed to be drugged, so you know that’s why you were in such a deep sleep,” He affirms when you nod, “and you woke in strange place, right?”

“Yes,” You swallow, recalling the scene that you had tried all this time to block from your memory, “I was handcuffed and really scared, I didn’t understand what was happening...”

“And in the report it says you were told you why you were there, is that correct?”

You nod.

“You knew you were there because Mr. Leu wanted dead,” Again, you nod, “alright. Now, I know you’ve had a few appointments with psychologist Elaine Woods and she diagnosed you with some conditions as a result of this traumatic event, is that right?”

“Yes...”

Yoongi’s eyes narrows at you, hyper-aware of your reactions.

“So, you would say that what you went through has made an negative impact on your life,” You hesitate for a moment, but nod nonetheless, “would you tell me what those conditions are?”

“ASD, social anxiety disorder, and depression...”

“And how do those conditions affect your everyday life now? Is it hard sometimes to get out of bed in the morning?”

It is. Everyday you make a little bit of progress, every week your therapist says you’re doing great, just don’t push yourself too much. You sit there and tell him how you feel, you tell him that you’re struggling, that feel you lost and out of place in life. Last week, you spent an entire day trying to convince Suzy to put you back on the job. To avoid any bad press, you turned down interviews from papers everywhere. You just wanted to work, you were eager to jget back to your old job. She wasn’t convinced, she said that you needed time to heal before throwing yourself into work. Yet, somehow you convinced her to let you come to the office to and talk to her boss. That day you realized that things would never be the same there.

“We missed you!”

You walked into the office and your coworkers, some you never even talked to stood around a little cake in the break room. Putting on a happy face, you thanked everyone for their kindness, but you knew in your heart that it was partly out of pity. You were overthinking everything anyone said to you, it was exhausting how paranoid you were to be around people. So many times you wanted to run out and throw-up from how overwhelmed you were but you pushed it down. Eventually, as everyone started to trickle out, Suzy’s boss pulled you aside.

“Y/n, you are so strong,” She looked at you like you had really done something great, “I wanted to know if you’d be willing to write about what you went through? We already have a story on you, you could write the concluding piece.”

The life drained from your face, she just wanted to use you. You told her you would have to think about it before promptly leaving without a proper goodbye. Suzy was right, you weren’t ready. You were far from that point in this process. After fleeing the party, you threw up in the lobby bathroom. You cried for a little bit in the empty stall, trying to pull yourself together before leaving. After cleaning yourself up, you drove to your new apartment, where you called Jin and cried again. You were in such bad shape that he drove all the way to check on you in the middle of the night. It didn’t help that you drank a half a bottle of wine but you were out of options, nothing felt right so you decided not to feel at all.

“Kev, cut the cameras,” You’re shaken from your daze when Jungkook stands up suddenly, exchanging a look with the man behind the camera, “we need to take a 5-minute break. Y/n, let me get you something to drink.”

Yoongi watches as Jungkook and the camera man leave the room. On the little couch, you sit, eyes void of all emotion.

“Are you alright?” Yoongi gets up to kneel in front of you. “Is this too much for you? Just say the word and we can finish later-...”

*

*

*

[briggsz]

* LUCY BOYNTON, CIS WOMAN + SHE/HER  | you know DECIMA MARNIE BRIGGS, right? they’re TWENTY-SIX, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, THEIR WHOLE LIFE ON & OFF? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to STARS ARE BLIND by PARIS HILTON like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole MUFFLED SCREAMS INTO SILK PILLOWS, GOING NUMB AFTER ICE BATHS & THE BELLYACHE YOU FEEL COMING IN SECOND PLACE thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is SEPTEMBER 15TH, so they’re a VIRGO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( b, twenty-two, gmt +3, she/her )

hellur...im back with My second baby . do i hav the brain cells 2 write them both ? no <3 bt im delusional n sexy like tht . here’s her . awful pinterest board ! hmu here or on discord if you’d like to plot . u want to plot bc u love me n decima so much . ( gentle godmod )

the much needed update: basically decima is an ex Olympic athlete tryna change her whole life n become an influencer / youtuber bc it’s all she cn do at the moment. everything she does, she gives her 110% .. doesn’t mean she succeeds either. struggles w the change bc shes so used to Living one way ( waking up @ 4 am , practicing fr 8 hrs a day , etc. ) 

ok so decima’s a new muse n if i fuck up . no i don’t <3 i’ll figure her out eventually pls dnt leave skjdhfj i lit rally tried to write this intro 3 times n i hated it each time so this is probably the Worst out of 3 bt here u go.

inspo: rachel reid (the wilds), kendall roy (succession), astrid sloan (the politician), monica geller (friends), haley keller (crawl), kat baker (spinning out), gracie hart (miss congeniality)

ok mr briggs is an ex pro-athlete n he’s the coach fr the town’s .. sports team i dont know Shit abt sports so u nod n look away 

he n his wife, alana adopted decima when she was 13 . she has two younger siblings . always felt like she cldn’t be the Responsible older sister bc had Hard time adjusting to the briggs household. not because she wasn’t welcomed, no, because she was simply trying Too damn hard. 

her life before briggs fam .. she never talks abt it , involves a deadbeat father n a teenage mother. cried for three hrs when she first called alana mom . 

thought sports would be the best way to connect with her dad, so she joined every sports club until she settled on skating . 

juggling school work n such a consuming , competitive activity .. yea ... she started to crumble under the Pressure bt asking for help ? with Tht much virgo on her chart ? nt happening </3

isolated herself from her friends n peers bc the path 2 glory is lonely .. so she thot .. 

channelled her 110% to figure skating, but something was .. missing. she no longer enjoyed skating, only did it to prove herself she cld, because her family expected her to be perfect . delusional . her parents only wanted her to be happy bt she was blinded by her ambition rip .

21, no uni degree, still skating, she met archie while on nationals.

they hit it off , for a while decima ws doing really good bc it was healthy , she had a life outside her practices , made new friends .. didn’t last for long : ) 

the highs were high n the lows .. they were . bad . ABUSE TW: he was mentally n physically abusive , decima started 2 skate more bc she just needed an escape and didn’t think of breaking up . why wld she ? she loved him , and he loved her .  : /

stayed with archie for almost 3 years, on & off. anyone cld see the damage except her .. until their last argument before The most important night of her life . TW END

she made a rookie mistake and fell while performing a quad toe loop, which was her way to the olympics. 

ironically, the death of her dream opened her eyes. she broke up with archie while she was still at the hospital, recovering from her fall

still skates , got her teaching certificate bt irving isn’t the best place to do so sdhjfk

is an influencer / youtuber . posts abt literally nothing important bt she’s using her pretty priviledge so shush

UhMMmM high pitched screams i cnt write it anymore i hate it here This makes no sense im so sorry

PERSONALITY WISE.....ok so . shes the Opposite of frederica </3 hard 2 please. finicky. aloof bt like ??? actually really warm n welcoming jst doesn’t know how to Present herself the best way .

v disciplined n sometimes feels weird abt it . as a skater it ws necessary bt now she’s only vlogging herself n posting shit online so ?? ?? cant balance idk . omg miss congeniality vibes . 

volatile .. i think .. tries 2 be nice n calm bt one off remark n she loses her shit

extremely ambitious n feels like a failure 99.9% the time rip

wears elaborate make up looks .

my body is my temple <3 vibes .... my ass

the Mom friend

cnt hold her drink . one beer n shes out

has her schedule n doesn’t like being late .

p much in l*ve with the idea of l*ve

uhm

ok so basically shes a mixture of babydoll n the jock if tht makes any sense if it doesnt . same

i hate it here

bt love her song and yes she listens to it regularly . paris follows on her insta . her biggest achievement .

[doginshoe]

I’m Gonna Put a Spell on You

@thewritingstar Part two of your @kuroshironekoserver secret Santa exchange piece!! 

summary: Witch Academy AU. Juvia is frustrated that her relationship with Gray hasn’t gone anywhere since they had started dating and plans to fix it with the help of Lucy as the holiday season sweeps over the school. However, these two young witches have no idea of the consequences that come with love spells. Fluff & comedy & hurt/comfort pairings: Gruvia, Nalu, BROtp Luvia (julu) part 2 of 7: Incantation Accident:

Lucy finds out just how finicky magic can really be as the situation gets progressively more... bright when Natsu is around :)

When Lucy had finally returned to her chambers that night, she had fallen asleep almost instantly. Though, the blonde barely felt like she had a wink of sleep. Part of her knew that it was because her and Juvia had stayed up too late - the two girls not coming into their dormitory until the sun was just about to peek its head over the horizon - but there was something different about this exhaustion. Her eyes stung as the light filtered into the room, her shoulders sagging as a weight rested on her shoulders and her magic could barely even offer up a spark.

The witch was absolutely drained.

Reluctantly, Lucy pulled herself out of bed to the dining hall, quickly clipping on her familiars vessel to the loophole of her belt. Most mages could form the entity of the soul of their familiar before them or had their familiar come to them in a physical form. Every skill level of witch and wizards was different as well as their familiars.

Lucy frowned as she felt Plue through her magic. The blonde could still only bring her life-long companion to her if she used an inanimate object. She was stuck at the basic level of familiar magic and the thought of it always irked her.

Natsu never missed a beat when he saw that look take over her features, telling her that it wasn’t her fault - She hasn’t been exposed to magic like the other students. Yet, Lucy always felt her mood deflate when the subject was brought up. Even if her father had forbidden magic from her when she was younger, she should still be able to conjure up Plue’s spiritual form.

The young witch shook her head as she saw her friends gathered at the end of the furthest table, not wanting Natsu to offer her another one of his ‘talks’. The dining hall was practically empty, but they still kept their own spot that they had sat ever since they had started at Fairy Tail Academy. Though, there were a few more spaces filled around them now, it still felt like that first day when Lucy had gravy splattered all over her robes and in her hair by Natsu and Gray.

Erza had apologised immediately and then the two boys had followed suit - with a fierce glare sent by their fiery friend to help them get on with it. The rest was history.

The blonde waved to the girls, a wide grin spreading on her lips as she took her seat beside Juvia, quietly whispering to her partner in crime. “So, did you make it yet?”

Her friend barely even looked at her, her blue eyes trained on Gray and the glass beside his breakfast. The raven haired teen was resting his head on the wooden table. He always took the longest to finally wake up.

“Yes,” Juvia murmured, her hand shooting out to grasp Lucy’s as soon as the young witch sat down. “ Juvia couldn’t sleep so she went straight to the gardens. I.. I poured it into his drink when he wasn’t looking.”

Lucy’s brown eyes widened. “Has he drank-”

“Yes,” Juvia cut in, “As soon as he sat down, but h-he just put his head on the table.. Does… Does Lucy think its failed?”

She frowned, her eyes slipping to the boy across from them who had still yet to greet her. “I’m sure-” Lucy started but she was cut off as two arms encircled her, the scent of ash and cinnamon filling her nose. She sucked in a short breath.

“Hey Lucy.” A familiar voice breathed from beside her ear and goosebumps began to rise on the back of her neck. “Nice of ya to finally get up and join us.”

“N-Natsu,” she stuttered, heat flushing her cheeks a light pink. The arms tightened around her chest as he gave her a light squeeze causing the blonde to squirm in his hold. “How many times have I told you about personal space,” she cried and his soft chuckle filled her ears before her best friend finally pulled away.

Natsu ruffled her blonde hair. “Yeah, yeah. Respect the bubble and all that. I got it.”

“Then,” Lucy growled, “Why do you insist on breaking that bubble?” She turned in her seat, her brows narrowed as she scowled at the boy who had his arms crossed behind his head. He was already grinning down at her, his uniform disheveled much like the rest of his appearance. His shirt was crinkled and had ridden up his stomach to reveal tan skin and his robe had been loosely thrown over his shoulders.

However, that wasn’t what made the young witch's jaw go slack.

“Come on, Lucy. Lighten up would ya,” he teased, but she had no response.

She blinked. Then again. She even rubbed at her eyes, but she still couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Natsu’s smile faded. “Uh, Lucy-”

“W-Wha… What,” she sputtered. Her brown eyes still couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was impossible. “What happened to you?”

“Luce, are you ok?”

Lucy ignored him, his voice faint as she still struggled to believe what she was seeing before her. “You’re.. You’re glowing!” She nearly yelled as she pointed at him.

The rest of the group turned to face her, except for Gray who kept his head down on the table. Usually they were used to this morning routine of flirting, as they all called it though Lucy refused it was anything of the sort, yet the blondes outburst had all heads turning to face the duo.

Natsu raised his hands in the air, a pink eyebrow rising as his face twisted into confusion. “Whoa,” he called out, “Are you sure you woke up on the right side of the bed this morning? You’re acting weirder than usual.” The mage laughed nervously, his green eyes looking to his friends for help as Lucy shook her head.

“No. You are definitely glowing, Natsu.” The blonde looked at her friends. “Tell him guys.”

The table all stared at Natsu, then to Lucy and finally offered each other a nervous look. They were hesitant as she waited on their response and the blondes face slowly became more desperate the longer they all stayed silent.

“Bunny girl has finally lost it,” Gajeel laughed and then yelped, his hand coming up to rub his arm as he glared at Levy beside him who kept her eyes trained on the blonde before them.

Lucy felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to Lisanna who sat on her other side. “Lucy… are you sure you’re okay?” Her blue eyes were full of concern as she looked at her friend and Lucy narrowed her brows.

“Yeah, Lu,” Levy piped up, “Maybe you should go see Porlyusica.”

The young witch shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m fine.” She looked back up to Natsu, to the illuminating glow that surrounded his entire body. It reminded her of an angel in movies where an ethereal light would surround them. Except, this was real. She could see it plain as day.

“Is Lucy sure she got enough sleep last night?” Juvia whispered from beside her as their friends all looked at her as if she was crazy.

“I.. I’m not- He.. He is.” Lucy fell over her words as she tried to comprehend what was happening in this moment. It was true that she was tired, but Natsu… She couldn’t be seeing things. Lucy had stayed up countless of times and last night was no different apart from her drain in magic after the-

The witch froze in place.

“Love a sleeping violet lay.”

Her heart skipped a beat and her palms started to sweat, the dread making her stomach feel like a void.

“Eyes still covered and wander.”

Her brown eyes widened and she shook her head. She refused to believe it. Those words weren’t meant for her.

“Show thy love to thee. Shine the star and open thine heart.”

Lucy looked up at Natsu and the shine that was definitely coming from the boy. Her lips parted as she fisted her robes to stop her hands from shaking. It couldn’t be.

“To illuminate the one tis meant for me.”

Her mind flashed to when Juvia had spoken the incantation that she had found. To the magic that had hung thick in the air and how she felt the spark shoot up her spine. The signs were all there and yet, she refused to admit it. Her brown eyes turned glassy and she bit the inside of her cheek to try and keep her emotions in check, but her cheeks were already turning a harsh red.

“This… This can’t be happening,” Lucy whispered. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, her chest felt so tight that she couldn’t take in enough air. The only thing ringing in her mind was the last line of the spell. She knew exactly what it meant, but it couldn’t be. Not him. He couldn’t be… her soulmate.

“Lucy.”

She blinked and the tears that had built up in her vision cleared before slowly sliding down her cheeks. He was knelt right there in front of her, his hand cradled her cheek and his eyes swam with… fear?

“Just tell me what’s happening. I can fix this.”

She stared at her best friend. His green eyes never left her, his lips pulled into a frown as his thumb wiped away one of her tears, and the glow around him seemed to shine even brighter.

Lucy pulled away from him, shaking her head as his words turned into white noise. “I-I can’t...” she whimpered, standing up from her seat. Natsu reached out for her, but she was already running out of the dining hall.

“Lucy!” Natsu shouted, ready to go after her. Though, Juvia quickly placed a hand on his chest.

“Leave her, Natsu-san.” Her blue eyes were cold and the mage visibly shrunk back as he remembered just how scary Juvia had been when she had arrived from Phantom Lord. Though, he still pushed, refusing to let her stop him from going after her. Even if the witch did freak him out.

“She needs me!”

“No,” She cut in and there was an audible gasp from the table of their friends. Juvia eyed them, watching as Gajeel placed a hand over his mouth in shock. “It is Juvia that will help her now. Just… wait for her when she’s ready.”

The witch offered him an apologetic look and Natsu opened his mouth to counter her, but she had already begun to walk away - leaving the table of friends in an uncomfortable silence.

“I should go after them,” Levy murmured.

“I’m coming too.” Lisanna nodded at the petite girl, the two quickly scurrying after their friends.

The rest of the table sat, pushing food around with their forks as they didn’t know what to do. No one could offer up anything to say. They had all seen their fair share of problems as the years had gone by, but never something this.. Strange.

Natsu continued to stare after where his best friend had retreated in tears.

Gajeel looked at his friends in thought, red eyes piercing each of them before he crossed his arms. “Don’t worry. Juvia has got ya sorted.” He nodded to himself, seeming to verify his own statement.

Though, no one paid any mind to the teen, their eyes turning to Gray.

“Ju…” He groaned from where he was face down on the table, “Juvvii…”

The friends looked at him surprised, seemingly forgetting he was there after what they had witnessed with Lucy and Natsu.

“Ju… Juvii… Juvia..” His voice was strained, muffled as he spoke into the wood.

Natsu turned to the raven haired mage, his eye twitching as Gray seemed only to be finally waking up. If he couldn’t go after Lucy then he would find a way to vent his frustration and that was on his rival-friend-enemy-guy-thing.

“Oi, Fuck-wit,” he called, “Ya girlfriends not here so shut up before I shut you up with my fist.”

Though, Natsu nearly fell on his butt when Gray shot up unexpectedly, his dark eyes were wide as he desperately looked around. Natsu’s eyebrow raised and both he and Gajeel stared at their male friend in pure, utter bewilderment.

Gray’s eyes watered as he finally stopped searching and his fingers bit down into his palm as he shook. “Where is she,” he cried, looking directly at Natsu, “Where is Juvia-sama?”

[hongism]

I jsut gotta say this after I’ve stewed for a little:

1. I do not get good vibes from jisung. there’s something really off about the whole situation. and as another ask said, memories are finicky and can make someone see through rose-colored glasses AND y/n also has experienced a LARGE amount of memory lose so who knows what she’s forgetting

2. I feel like the dreamscape would be helpful enough to find san wooyoung and mingi since it’s all connected. I feel like if they tried hard enough they could find it themselves without jisungs help and then they wouldn’t have to keep up that god forsaken deal cause I Don’t Like™. I don’t like him or trust him to actually have good intentions jdjfwjjr HES JUST SO FISHY

3. I have this very strong feeling that things with jisung will not turn out well. knowing how you love to torture us, something is bound to happen🤨

4. ok lastly, I need you to just forget whatever plan you had for this fic and jsut let everyone fall in love with each other and live happily ever after in a nice poly relationship :) there’s no more pain this way :)

ehehehheheheh yeS i love things like this 🤧🤧

1. i think the biggest thing that no one has thought to mention yet which makes sense since so much is happening all the time is that if y/n has these deeply traumatic memories tied to the memory, but all her flashbacks and memories with jisung are happy and pretty and lovely and perfect, that’s a Bit Odd? and doesn’t make sense right? that’s a big thing to remember and you are most definitely on the right track!!

2. you do have some good points with the dreamscape as well altho y/n doesn’t know whether seonghwa knows about wooyoung and sirens can only meet in the dreamscape if they are in close proximity with each other. what’s important to note about y/n’s most recent dreams are that she is not with wooyoung, she is seeing through wooyoung’s eyes but there are some other things that will come into play in these next few chapters AND idek WHY ITS SO FUNNY TO SEE YALL BE SO SUS ABOUT JISUNG 😭

3. my lips are s e a l e d 🤐🤐

4. JKHSHJKDF one day there will be some odd offbrand moc spinoff where it’s just a nice poly relationship and everyone is happy and doesn’t suffer

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Hi bee, i hope you're doing wellI just wanna ask for some tips bc I can't seem to do the "show don't tell" thing when writing. I have no idea why, it's weirdly difficult. Any websites or good examples about it? I'm kinda disappointed in myself. Thank u for being so kind! Much love to you

Ah yes, the classic advice that everyone says but is very hard to actually define. As a beginning writer, I always found this especially confusing because all writing is “telling” in the sense that you are telling a story. You only have words. It’s also a very hard thing to find clear examples of because “telling” might only be a sentence or two but good “showing” might take a whole scene, a whole chapter or a whole novel to do right. It’s something that takes practice and, unlike rules of grammar, can’t be fixed overnight. 

I don’t always get it right (and “right” gets pretty subjective with this topic), but as an exercise, let’s compare the first scene I ever wrote to the opening scene of Void. 

Excerpt One: Opening Scene of If You’re Struggling

(Disclaimer: I am so embarrassed by this cringey-ness. There is a reason I deleted it from Tumblr. Please don’t judge me too harshly. Writing is a learning process)

To illustrate the point (and because Tumblr’s formatting options suck) I’ve put a strikethrough on all the parts I would consider “telling” instead of “showing”.

“Have a great first day, honey!” Your boyfriend gives you a quick kiss as you grab your coffee and head out the door for your first day at your new job. You’ve been eagerly awaiting this day for several weeks now, since your successful interview with BigHit Entertainment. Up until now, you’ve been working as a makeup artist on a spec basis here in Seoul, but this is going to be your first full-time job as a makeup artist and stylist.

At the BigHit offices, you are welcomed in by the head stylist whom you met at your interview and she shows you around the offices.

“Ok, we need to get to the dressing room” she says, clapping her hands. “The boys are recording their dance practice today, and we need to do their makeup beforehand.”

Your heart beats a little faster when you realize you’re about to meet BTS. A month ago you had never heard of them, but since getting this job two weeks ago, you’ve been a bit obsessed - listening to their music non-stop as you do housework, watching all of their music videos over and over, seeking out all of their Bangtan bombs and television appearances. When your boyfriend caught you watching the “Boy in Luv” video for about the 30th time on your laptop, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your cheek.

“Do I need to be worried about you spending so much time with these boys?” He teased.

You turned your head and kissed him reassuringly on the lips. “No!” you giggled in mock offense “look at them, they’re just kids!”

You enter the dressing room and are pointed to a makeup chair in front of a mirror. You set about cleaning up your station and setting up your kit before the boys arrive. You hear the boys coming before you see them -  shouting and laughing down the hallway before they get to the door. You are still setting up your station when the door clangs open and they burst into the room.

You turn around to find a tall, older blond boy already sitting in your chair. He gives you a smile and shakes your hand. “Hi. I’m Namjoon. You must be the new stylist.” He introduces himself as the leader and offers to help you get to know the other members. “Watch out for the younger ones, they like to play jokes on each other and everyone else.”

After Namjoon, you meet Jin. He is polite and spends most of his time in the chair filling you in on his recommendations for the other members “Be sure you get underneath Yoongi’s eyes, he was up late last night”, “Don’t go too dark on Jungkook’s lip color”, and so on. When you’re finished, he smiles gratefully at you and stands up to go.

Hoseok comes running over and throws his arm around Jin’s shoulders. “Jin’s make-up is easy since he’s so handsome already, right noona?”  he teases Jin.

“Yes, precisely.” Jin replies, not embarrassed at all, but gives you a smile before heading off to hair.

Hoseok is the easiest to talk to out of all of the boys. He peppers you with questions as you do his makeup, all about where you’re from and where you’ve worked before. Before you know it, you’ve told him all about your life, including how you moved from South Korea to the US when you were six for your dad’s work and moved back when you were sixteen. “Oh wow!” He says excitedly. “We can all practice our English with you!”

While you are talking, a loud commotion comes from the back of the room as Jimin and Taehyung are playing Rock, Paper, Scissors and shouting about something.

“What’s going on?” You ask Hoseok and he smiles, a little embarrassed.

“They’re having a disagreement about who gets to sit in your chair next…” He replies. You just blush and look away.

While the younger boys are distracted with their battle, Yoongi plops down into your chair. He introduces himself with a nod and puts in headphones.  About halfway through applying his makeup, you realize that he has fallen asleep. You look over at Namjoon, “What do I do now? Should I wake him up?” You ask.

Namjoon just chuckles, “You can keep going, he’ll just sleep through it.” When you’re finished, you gently wake him back up and point him in the direction of the hairstylist. He grumbles appreciatively and stumbles off.

Jimin has apparently won the game and comes rushing over to fill the vacant chair. “Hi. I’m Jimin.” He flashes you a devilish grin, then adds “You know… you are a lot younger and cuter than our last stylist…”

You’re a bit flustered, but Namjoon saves you. “Jimin, you can’t talk to our stylist like that!” He smacks Jimin gently upside the head and suddenly Jimin is just an adorable kid again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” he says and you get to work on his makeup.

Taehyung watches you doing Jimin’s makeup, making goofy faces in the mirror when your back is turned, trying to get Jimin to laugh and mess up all your hard work. He slides in when Jimin is done. He spends most of his time in the chair shouting across the room to Jimin, who is now having his hair done. You keep having to gently remind him to sit still.

The maknae is last. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.” He quietly introduces himself. He is really shy and barely says anything else to you as you do his makeup, but you can tell he is trying really hard to stay perfectly still, despite several attempts from the older members to distract him.

Once all of the boys are ready, their manager comes and rounds them up and you hear them running back down the hall to the dance studio laughing and joking. You breathe a sigh of relief and can’t fight back the smile that spreads across your face.

The first few weeks of working at BigHit are fantastic. The boys continue to warm up to you as you get to know them better. Namjoon loves talking with you in English, especially really quickly so his bandmates can’t follow what he’s saying. Of course, you can’t always follow what he’s saying either, but he is so thoughtful and full of ideas. Yoongi still often falls asleep, but he also now comes in with music recommendations for you and hands you the other ear of his headphones while you do his makeup. Hoseok continues to be your favorite, telling you all about his childhood, the audition and debut process, and filling you in on the latest gossip. Jimin and V continue to cause trouble, but are so adorable when they do that you can never stay mad at them. And Jungkook continues to be quiet and sit perfectly still in the makeup chair. He is so chatty with his bandmates that you are a little sad he isn’t more comfortable with you, but it does make his makeup easier to do than Taehyung’s.

Thoughts:

So there a lot of things here like it being her first day of work, her being nervous, and the mannerisms of the boys that would have been much better if I had showed them through dialogue, description, and physical mannerisms rather than telling them outright. It would have done a lot better job of placing the reader in the scene and would read as a bit less cringey. The last paragraph in this scene is particular egregious because instead of allowing the reader to see those relationships build over time and really invest us in those characters, I just summarize in one paragraph. 

As a result, we get to the end of this scene and we know a lot of facts, but we don’t really have any good sense of who this character is or why we should care about her or empathize with her. 

Excerpt Two: Opening Scene of Void

(Disclaimer: This is also not perfect, but it is much improved from the previous)

“Can you see them?”

You blink your eyes as you stare into the microscope, squinting against the bright light. You’ve been staring into this scope for two hours, searching for tiny signs of life.

“Maybe?” you reply. Your colleague leans in closer, close enough to smell his shampoo. Your eyes begin to water as you scour the field of view, checking each fleck of dirt for your prize. But again, you came up empty. “No, I don’t think so.”

You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing them to relieve the strain. You didn't get much sleep last night. But you can’t bring yourself to complain to Hoseok.

He groans, standing up and twisting side to side. Your back aches in sympathy from bending over these finicky slides all morning. “We’re going to run out of samples.” The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown.

“We’ll run out of kerosene first,” you mutter. You look back through the lens one last time, hoping you missed something.  

“They should have sent us with more.” Your fellow science officer stands up and walks over to chemical storage.

“Yeah, because large amounts of volatile organic liquids are a great thing to have on spacecraft." No one else on this ship would appreciate your joke. It’s not a good joke. But Hoseok humors you and gives you a small chuckle.

“Should we try an acid?” he suggests, as he examines the inside of the storage cabinet.

“Acetic?” He nods and scratches his chest as he fishes out the necessary bottle. He walks the acid back to your lab station and sets it down on the counter next to you.

He sighs and puts his hands on his hips, resuming his twisting back and forth. He clasps his hands together and does a long slow stretch upwards. Your eye catches on the sliver of exposed skin popping into view as his shirt rides up.

His smooth skin stretches across well-defined muscles, distracting your serious scientific mind. You lick your lips as you imagine how warm he would feel under your palm. You stare at the gap between his navel and the top of his pants. Not for the first time, you find yourself wondering what his skin tastes like.

“We should dilute it.” His shirt falls back down, breaking the spell. You look away, shaking your head, embarassed by your own lacivious thoughts. You’re a professional. A highly educated astronaut and scientist. You have a PhD, for god’s sake. Focus on the mission at hand.

“Yeah, we should.” You nod in confimation before standing up to get some glassware. “What concentration?”

As you turn around to reach the water tap, Hoseok moves to reach the tablet behind you. Your small lab is so narrow that you end up colliding with him. You bounce backwards off his body, cradling your beaker of water, headed straight back toward all of your ship’s glassware. You panic. Visions of shattering thousands of dollars of lab supplies fly through your head. But Hoseok catches you before you stumble into the cabinetry. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize he’s got you in his arms.

“Fuck.” You smile. “Sorry, Hoseok.”

“It’s okay.” He laughs, shaking his head. “My fault.” His hands linger on you as you both chuckle. You feel the heat of his touch seeping through your jumpsuit.

Despite living in such tight quarters, it’s rare that you’re ever this close to him. You try to avoid physical contact with the crew out of self-preservation.

He smells good. Hoseok always smells good. While your ship smells mechanical and sterile, the man holding you smells warm and human. It’s comforting, but in a way that makes you ache with how you long to bury yourself in him.

Your colleague lets go of you and steps backwards, coughing into his shirt sleeve. He picks up the tablet and scrolls through your research materials. The warmth of his hands begins to fade from your shoulders. He finds the correct dilution factor and reads it out to you.

You measure out the appropriate amounts of acid mixing it with water. Hoseok retrieves another fragment of the meteoroid that you’re scouring for microorganisms. When he returns, you cover the sample with the acid, stopper the flask and set it to oscillate for a hour.

“Nothing to do now but wait.” You sit down on your stool and drum on your thighs. The idea of being alone with Hoseok for another hour fills you with nervous energy. It's a relief when he excuses himself to the bathroom.

It didn’t used to be this hard. When you started this mission two years ago, you had no problem being alone with any of your crew members. You were professionals doing a job together, and there wasn’t time or energy for idle sexual tension. But as the mission drags on, you have begun to feel more and more on edge. And it’s not only Hoseok. You are finding it harder and harder to be alone with any of the crew. When you spend all night fantasizing about someone, normal conversation becomes difficult.  

You stare at the flask rocking back and forth on the counter and let your mind wander. You replay your previous clumsy moment.  You imagine Hoseok catching you in his arms again, but this time you grab him and kiss him. You smell him and taste him and surround yourself in him. You close your eyes and follow the fantasy further. You imagine dropping to your knees and sucking him off up against the glassware cabinet. You imagine the way the lab equipment would clink as he bent you over the lab counter.

Hoseok returns, brandishing his tablet. “I got the new article from Geology on microfossils, if you want to take a look.” You sigh and nod.

Thoughts: So there is definitely some telling happening in this scene too. Telling is not always the worst thing in the world, although I wrote this scene nearly two years ago, so if I could go back and edit some of this out now I would. But what I want to point out here is how much information I convey without ever having to explicitly spell it out: we’re on a spaceship, the OC is a scientist with a crush on her colleague, she is touch-starved, they are searching for fossils, etc. And I think it does a much better job than the previous example at drawing the reader into the scene. 

___

In general, here some good pointers for moving more in the showing direction:

1. Focus as much as you can on the present moment. What is your character thinking right now? What are they feeling? What information are they getting from their senses?

2. Use dialogue. Dialogue is a great way to show relationships between characters and fill in backstory without long paragraphs of just “telling” your readers stuff. Just be careful that it sounds like real dialogue and not exposition masquerading as dialogue. No one tells anyone their whole life story the first time they meet them or repeats information that the other person would obviously know. 

3. Trust your readers to fill in the gaps. Readers are very good at picking up context clues. You don’t need to spell everything out for them. If you put them in the scene and describe the world around them well, they will figure out lots of things just from context.

Hope that helps! The only real solution is to play around with it and practice and see what you like. Good luck!